#is customer service a soft or hard skill

[sanguineterrain]

Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

[izzystizzys]

“…I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand”, Fox says, for what must be the dozenth time that hour. His heartbeat pounds behind his eyes in an incessant drum of hurt, and his head aches with every breath like someone’s taken a rusty fork to the inside of his skull and raked his brain out. Fox’ eyes are beginning to burn the way they start doing around hour 80 of a shift, and he has to suppress the brief urge to check over his shoulder. Not even Stabby could come up with a ploy this contrived to make him sleep. Probably.

In front of him, General Grievous coughs awkwardly, long spindly durasteel limbs shivering with its force. “Certainly”, he vocalizes, in that deep, watery cadence. “For your glorious triumphs in battle, your awe-inspiring victory over me in close combat, and your undeniable warrior spirit, I accept you as my consort. I have proven my skills through the ritual capture, and thus, by Kaleesh custom, we are now wed, Commander Fox. I will honor you as my war-bride, and visit vengeance upon your enemies. I swear it to you.”

Expectantly, Grievous tilts his faceplate to the side, and Fox only just catches the suppression of the manic giggle that wants to escape him. Yeah, probably not Stabby - maybe a dying fever dream? Has the infected gash from that skirmish on the lower levels five rotations ago finally decided to end him? If so, it’s not fast enough for Fox’ tastes.

Here’s how it happened: Fox has no kriffing clue. All he knows is one moment an emergency alert tore him from precious Scream Closet time this morning, he went to rescue the Chancellor’s dumb ass again, and whoop, here he is on General Grievous’ ship with the war-criminal himself declaring them happily married. And eyeing him up and down like a piece of candy.

Why, Fox thinks, desperately, does this always have to happen to me?!

Chancellor’s still kidnapped, by the way. Fox has other priorities for the time being.

“I swear to aim my weapons in your service”, Grievous continues, when it becomes exceedingly clear Fox is not going to break out of his shocked stupor anytime soon. “I swear to aim true and strike with murderous intent, I swear to uphold the sacred bonds of our clans in the name of our union, I swear to raise a strong, bloodthirsty brood of warriors with-“

“Wait”, Fox interrupts, once his brain has caught up past the astromech dial-up sound it seems to be playing on repeat. “Uphold clan bonds? You murder your way through my brothers like a rabid nexu on spice on the regular!”

Grievous’ faceplate, which should be for all intents and purposes totally expressionless, does something that reminds Fox strangely of contrition. It has him gaping and shivering in discomfort, in any case. “A fact I regret, but acknowledge lies in my past before the fateful crossing of our paths. I am a warrior at soul, you must understand, my worthy mate.” Durasteel faceplates don’t turn soft. They don’t. And coughs don’t sound loving. They simply do not. “But I uphold the bonds of these sacred vows under Kaleesh law, that I swear to you, my beloved.”

“All I did was grapple you to the ground”, Fox says, mourningly. “Cody has kicked you in the head dozens of times and you’ve never tried to marry him.”

“He is not you, and his battle lacks the lustful vitality and love of violence of yours”, Grievous declares, and Fox really cannot tell whether the sound that erupts from him is a lovelorn sigh or a hacking death-gurgle. This cannot be his life.

Just then, a droid conveniently enters, putting a pause to all Fox’ sufferings. He’ll need to tell Thorn to research Kaleesh divorce proceedings. Or, better yet - he needs to blow up this whole karking ship including himself and destroy all evidence of this ever happening.

“Generals Kenobi and Skywalker awaiting in custody, Sir”, says the droid, nervously. “They are here to rescue Chancellor Palpatine, but we cut them off just out of the hangar bay.”

Internally, Fox rolls his eyes so hard it hurts his brain. “The Jedi can wait”, Grievous hacks out, and for once Fox agrees with him. Let the two dick around onboard, there’s bigger issues at hand.

“But Sir”, says the droid, all twitchy with an anxiety Fox eternally wonders who the kriff programmed into the damn things, “what if they try to escape and -“

A deep, growling noise erupts from deep within Grievous’ massive metal chest, amplifying Fox’ pounding headache by a thousandfold. “I have no time for this”, he snarls at the cowering droid. “Remove yourself from my and mine beloved’s sight.”

“Roger Roger”, the B2 squeaks, hesitantly, before adding on - “The Chancellor-“

Harrumphing petulantly, Grievous stomps one massive, clawed foot and makes what feels like the whole viewdeck shake. “I will twist his head off his body like a rotten fruit”, he declares. “That will get those pesky Jedi off my ship faster, and then we can continue saying our vows.” He pauses, thoughtfully, and then hooded eyes ringed by what must surely be rotten flesh fix on Fox inexorably. “It will be my wedding gift to you, beloved, an offering of peace to your brothers.”

Fox opens his mouth to protest, but quickly snaps it shut again when his husband already turns tail and storms off.

Huh. Maybe this marriage thing isn’t all bad.

[eggtartz]

✧ 20th October ✧

Giyu Tomioka // Destress (f! swordsmith villager reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : soft sex, giyu is straightforward

you weren't the best swordsmith there is, so you resolved by doing what you can well. serving people. you name it, restaurants, massage services, your name is quite infamous in the service area of the swordsmith village. unlike them, you wanted to contribute more rather than just simply living there. today, the chief village had alerted you to serve a full on massage and relaxation for one of the hashiras who's coming to the village.

you were exhilarated as always, finding happiness in what you're doing. you waited by the hot spring bath where you met him, his towel on your knees. "tomioka-san? ah, what an honour to meet a hashira" you lowered your head to bow at him "thankyou" he said silently "i was informed that you want a massage? will you want to have a cup of warm tea while you're relaxing inside the hot tub?" you asked, being friendly.

"yes, that'd be great" he answered. you nodded and gave another bow before going inside to brew some tea. the water hashira was known to be stoic but as far as you observed, he looked quite.. normal? handsome, even. you did not understand all the fuss about him being stoic and expressionless. perhaps, he's stressed.

stress is a no no for you.

"tomioka-san, i have brought you tea" you smiled, kneeling at the edge while putting down a tray with cups and kettles. "yes, thankyou" you waited there, hands on your lap as you looked at him expectantly. "uh, yes?" he raised his brow. "the massage, tomioka-san. i usually massage my customers while being in the hot tub because the water has healing purposes" you smiled. when you noticed he went radio silent, your smile quickly falter.

"u-unless, if you refuse then that's okay too" you said, averting your eyes as you felt ashamed for barging into his personal space. you slowly shifted back, in order to dig a hole and hide in there forever until you heard sounds of water splashing. "i don't mind" he said, empty eyes looking into yours. "o-okay.." you stammered, quickly taking a special ointment and rubbed it along his muscly scars. you took note of multiple scars as his broad shoulders relaxed.

"it's warm" he commented as you slowly massaged his back "yes, it's supposed to relax your muscles for you to be less tense" you said, hand swiftly moving on his back. you eventually went into the warm, steaming water while massaging his arms. "oh, you're very skillful. it's not wonder the chief recommends you" he said, voice low.

"yes, i try my best" you smiled politely to him. working on his biceps, you could feel his eyes boring into yours with curiosity but you remained silent. he gave small grunts when you pressed a pressure point, his muscles spasming.

"y/n. i paid in full for you but still this isn't me forcing myself. i just wanted to know" he said when you're massaging his feet, water splashing underneath you "what is that, tomioka-san?"

"sex. i wasn't intending to but your touches makes me.. hard" he looked away, blush on his cheeks. "if you'd like, i'll pay extra for it." you smiled "a customer order is always a pleasure to be fulfilled" you smiled and gently took off your already soaked yukata. giyu's breath hitched when your boobs came on display and he's trying not to peek at your pussy.

he also removed the towel around his waist, he won't be needing that anymore.

you swam closer to him, breathing at his face. his hands slowly crept to your waist as he finally, so slowly kisses your lips. it was slow and almost felt intimate as he pulled you closer with easy strength that he has mustered. you smiled when he fingers your entrance, liking the dominance and the fact that he isn't hesitating to use you for his own destressing ways. you softly mewled when one finger entered your cunt, your slick mixing with the warm water doubling the pleasure and it pulsed with anticipation.

"o-oh.. tomioka-san.. need it.. please.." you plead with half lidded eyes. "patience, y/n. i'm the customer here" he said, almost mischievously. you whimpered when he pushed you to the edge of the hot tub, the wall behind you while he teased your pussy with the tip of his dick. you couldn't see much through the water but you knew it was going to stretch you good.

"oh!" you yelped when he pushed inside as giyu gritted his teeth. it was so easy sliding inside you, your pussy is basically inviting him and warming him up. he gnawed on his lips as he had to pull out but pushed back in with double the intensity. his thrusts were shallow, but deep as you made ah, ah, ahs with your eyes getting blurry.

"y/n" thrust "you" thrust "feel" thrust "so good" his pace was slow as he took his time burying inside you like he never wanted to leave. your hands went behind his back that was still moist with ointment and held it tight, scratching it with your nails. giyu almost growled, lifting your body with his hands under your knee "spread it for me" he whispered as your hands spread your needy, greedy cunt that swallowed his dick without difficulty

"damn it.. gonna cum.." he panted beside your ear, whining and breathless. you held on tight to his back, placing sloppy kisses to his neck. you clenched your pussy in purpose at times, giving him the utmost pleasure at all times.

"oh! i can feel it tomioka-san! o-oh!" you moaned as he came inside with a grunt. "damn it! you're too good!" he growled again, pushing your body harder to the wall behind you as he pistoned himself inside your weeping cunt. "wait! you're gonna make me cum tomioka-san!" you screamed, feeling your brain disconnecting from your body as he was going too fast, as if he didn't creampied you earlier.

"that's the point, y/n. you did a good job with my stress, it's time for me to pay something back. pay something that isn't money" he nibbled on your ear one hand of his teased your clit, flicking it and rubbing it and it swell under his touch. you were knocked out by his teasing and sinful plap plap plap sounds accompanied with wanton moans and groans could be heard from a distance.

"gonna cum!" you yelled as he quickly pinched your clit. you squeeze your eyes, feeling your wetness which was as warm as the water. you panted until giyu decided to give you another heartwarming kiss, a hand behind your back as he held you. it was a passionate one, tongues swirling as his cock is getting touched again.

"we can go for another one, free of charge of course" you smiled.

[yoonkinii]

How y♡u first met Sukuna!

Warning(s): None Requests open! (only for this AU) Masterlist (check for more AU content here!)

Life feels like a dull melody, endlessly looping without change. Each day blurs into the next: wake up, attend college classes until your brain can’t take it, work until your feet throb, return home to study and work some more, then catch a few fleeting hours of sleep. The cycle repeats over and over again, with only minor changes being added to the never-ending routine. 

The air of the store is frigid as you reorganize the frozen food, red vest covering your white long-sleeve uniform shirt. THe fabric irritates your skin, causing an incessant itch, but you had to endure it, knowing that wearing anything else would beckon the wrath of your shift manager. 

Your fingers ache, tinged a faint red from the freezer’s chill. You could have finished a lot sooner were it not for the haphazardly thrown boxes of frozen food, which you have to constantly rearrange in order for them to be in the right places. Every time you thought you were done, another misplaced container catches your eyes, prolonging the task. 

Letting the magnetic door shut with a soft thud, you sighed, shoulder aching from the relentless task of lifting and moving items. Stepping back, you inspected the freezer for any remaining misplaced containers. A wave of relief washing over you when none were in sight. 

“Um, excuse me?”

You turned to the voice beside you, the well-practiced customer service smile automatically appearing on your face. 

“Yes! How may I help you?” 

Your tone was cheerful as you clasped your hands in front of you, looking at the customer. He wore an unfamiliar school uniform, dark blue pants and a button-up sweater with a red hoodie-like trim. It was clear he was in high school based on his attire. His hair, an unusual color cut into an undercut, caught your attention.

He must dye it, you mused, maintaining your smile. As you observe him, you also notice two matching, almost triangular slits under both of his eyes. Perhaps scars or birthmarks? It wasn’t your place to know, so you quickly pushed those thoughts aside. 

“Oh, I was just wondering where the canned sodas were.”

Your mind instantly mapped out the store’s layout, a skill honed from countless hours of restocking. 

“Those are in aisle 5C. I’d be happy to take you there if you’d like.”

The boy’s smile could rival the sun as he nodded eagerly, showering you with ‘thank you’s’ for your help.

That’s how you found yourself in the drink aisle, having an interesting discussion with the young man.

“Yes, but wouldn’t you say Dr. Pepper is better than just plain Cola?”

You hummed in thought, eyeing the vast array of soda crates lining the shelves. “While Dr. Pepper is good, if you’re bringing it to a class party, wouldn’t you want more variety? For example,” ou bent down and pulled out a certain crate of coke. “This pack has a variety of flavors, and some people can’t stand the taste of Dr. Pepper. Are you sure everyone in your class likes it?”

The young boy was silent for a moment, now crouched beside you as he examined the crate. “You have a point.”

“Yuji, what the hell are you doing? I sent you in to get drinks for your class like ten minutes ago.”

Both you and the boy, now known as Yuji, snapped your heads up at the sound of another voice. Yuji stood up immediately, turning to face the source of the interruption. 

“Sorry, Uncle. I was having a hard time deciding,” Yuji apologized, scratching the back of his head. 

You grabbed the crate of soda you had recommended and stood beside Yuji, finally getting a look at the man who had spoken. Suddenly, a loud crash resonated through the aisle as the crate of sodas slipped out of your grasp and landed on your foot, eliciting a string of curses. 

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Yuji’s voice echoed in your head as you kneeled, cradling your throbbing foot.

Oh my God, he was stunningly handsome. Not Yuji, but the resemblance was clear. Yuji’s uncle, whoever he was, was breathtakingly beautiful, and you had just embarrassed yourself in front of him. He easily stood over six feet tall, towering over his nephew. While Yuji shared similar features, his uncle’s were sharper and more defined by age. Intricate face tattoos adorned his skin, accompanied by two slits in both of his brows, a barbell piercing through his left brow. His hair, styled similarly to Yuji’s, appeared to be its natural, unique color. 

Maybe it wasn’t dyed after all. 

He looked every bit of a high school troublemaker. His ears were pierced with gauges and several piercings lined his helix. Tattoos, similar to the ones on his face, trailed down his neck and beneath the collar of his sweatshirt. His hands were casually shoved into his jean pockets as he quirked up a brow of annoyance. 

Mentally scolding yourself, you stood up and bowed at the waist. “I am so sorry. The crate slipped from my hands.:

“No, no! It’s okay, really. Are you sure that you’re alright?”

Yuji’s voice carried concern, his brow furrowed as you regained your full height. There was no way in hell that you would admit that his uncle had been the real reason you dropped the crate. 

You tensed as Yuji’s uncle shifted, sidestepping you to bend down behind you. He held up a new crate in his hand. “Let’s go. You’re already wasting my time, kid.”

Yuji nodded briskly, taking the crate from his uncle’s hand and hurrying towards the front of the store. Swallowing hard, you glanced at the man beside you. His eyes met yours, almost making you jump out of your skin. Quickly looking away, you stared at the floor in silence.

“Sorry if my nephew bothered you at all.” His voice, velvety smooth, resonated through the aisle. 

“What?” You blinked, turning to face him. “Oh no! He wasn’t a bother at all.”

Your heart thundered. His eyes—a deep maroon that gleamed in the light—captivated you. Did Yuji share the same trait? You couldn’t remember. 

He arched a brow, seemingly unconvinced by your response, before walking away and disappearing from view. As he departed, you visibly relaxed, leaning against the shelf for support. Your hands rose to cradle your heated face.

God, who knew someone could make face tattoos look so hot?

[rorlokiswifey]

Make up artist! Loki Headcanons!

I colored this image to give it a lil more life?

💚 Loki loves bright colors! Anything green, purple, blue and pink is on his radar!

💚 His favorite part of doing the make up is graphic liner or eyeshadow! That is because he enjoys showing his artistic skill when it comes to the graphic eyeliner and gets to do fun color combinations!

💚 With eyeshadow Loki often uses glitter or pastel colors to make the eyes pop out of one has dark eyes! And of one has light eyes he used a more nudy base or more soft colors!

💚 Loki is probably someone who does make up for drag queens or events! He loves that he can go all out and do different combinations as well as styles! Especially the bold and confronting lines of make up, often it doesn’t need to be blend but it’s still takes a lot of work!

💚 one of Loki’s favorite styles is gyaru make up! He is a fan of how bold, saturated and unique the subculture is, especially with the meaning behind it! He has many Gyaru clients and always asks to learn more about the subculture in Japan!

💚 even though Loki is a make up artist, he also plans on doing nails and hairs, he thinks it’s part of the art itself because one’s nails should also be a match to one’s make up!

💚 Loki can often be found at comic cons! Helping cosplayers with their make up look, he has his own stand and brands of make up he used. During his stay he also offers glitter tattoo’s!

💚 Loki plans on having his own brand one day that can suit any style! He would sell them at a reasonable price and make them of safe, healthy and eco friendly materials, even if they would be hard to find!

💚 He has done make up for runaway shows! Ofcourse he has been credited and even joined on in on the walk! This is to show how his make up style changes depending on the undertone, style, color combinations, aesthetic and ofcourse saturation!

💚 despite the mostly make up applications, Loki is also fond of body art. His go to color would be gold, a color that would suit any body type, color or undertone yet give off an angelic majestic and phenomenal look!

💚 Loki as a make up artist is trying to do everything when it comes to the body. Hair, nails, make up, skin care, anything you can think about. He care a lot about presentation, service and the health of his customers!

💚 because of his work, Loki learns a lot about different cultures! This caused him to take an interest in henna/ mehendi, he currently takes lessons on how to apply them as it is both applied on the hands and feet, while brides often wear red mehendi. So lot’s of practice for him!

💚 Loki actually thought of becoming an tattoo artist! But because he lacks artistic skills he found his passion more in make up! But he might be one one day. At least that’s what he thinks!

💚 Loki loves patterns and lace! He uses them in his work, he adds diamonds amd gems too, often taking inspiration from lace to do body art, he uses a technique where he puts make up ok old lace and presses it against the body, causing it to make a mark of the make up!

💚 Loki started making videos on how he does certain looks or how he makes his make up look fabulous. He even gets sponsors, yet he’s always honest with his followers in which product works and which one doesn’t.

💚 Make up artist Loki might have even done make up for Idols or Vkei bands, if there is one thing he loves it’s weirdness, he will try to find the weirdest of it all! It made him listen to Kpop ad Vkei haha

💚 Despite Loki’s love for weirdness, he also has a fixation on more feminine things! He likes designing clothes, headwear and skirts with lots of bows in pastel colors, usually pastel blue, pink, green and white.

🌸That’s all that came to my mind…thank you for reading!~ 🌸

[blkdaddie]

Welcome to Meskhenet

Meskhenet - The Egyptian goddess of childbirth

The moment I stepped into Meskhenet, the air was thick with the scent of top-shelf spirits and the underlying sweetness of ripe citrus. Soft jazz melodies whispered through the dimly lit room, where the lighting was just low enough to create an intimate atmosphere. It was my fourth visit this month. The allure was undeniable, and it wasn’t just the cocktails that kept me coming back.

“Evening, Alex,” called a familiar voice. Tyler, one of the bartenders, flashed me a smile from behind the bar. His belly, prominently round beneath his perfectly fitted shirt, swayed slightly as he mixed a drink with expert precision. “The usual?”

I nodded, sliding onto a stool. “You know me too well, Ty.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dimpling. “It’s part of the job. Keeping the regulars happy.”

Meskhenet wasn’t like any other cocktail bar in the city. The staff—every single bartender—was a pregnant man. It was the novelty that drew first-timers through the door, their curiosity piqued by whispers of this extraordinary place. But it was the quality of the service, the ambiance, and the unparalleled mixology that turned those curious glances into loyal patrons.

As Tyler expertly crafted my Old Fashioned, I glanced around. The bar was a spectacle of polished wood and plush leather, every detail meticulously chosen to exude sophistication. The clientele ranged from business professionals unwinding after a long day to couples on dates, their eyes glistening with intrigue.

A new patron, wide-eyed and hesitant, approached the bar. His gaze lingered on Tyler’s belly, then flitted away, embarrassed. Tyler noticed and leaned forward, a knowing smile on his lips.

“First time here?” he asked, sliding my drink in front of me with a flourish.

The newcomer nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I’ve heard about this place. Didn’t really believe it until I saw it myself.”

Tyler’s laugh was warm and inviting. “We get that a lot. It’s a bit of a shock at first, but we’re just like any other bartenders—only a bit more… expectant.”

As the night wore on, the bar filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Tyler wasn’t the only one who knew how to handle the attention. Michael, another bartender, was equally skilled, his hands deftly mixing drinks even as his belly pressed against the bar.

A patron, emboldened by a few cocktails, leaned in towards Michael. “So, what’s it like working here?” he asked, his voice slurred but curious. “Do you… you know… mind all the staring?”

Michael’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Honestly? It’s part of the charm. People come here expecting a show, but they stay for the drinks and the company. And we’re well-compensated for the attention.”

“Yeah, but why do it?” the patron pressed, his curiosity piqued.

Michael set a finished drink in front of another customer before turning back. “For some of us, it’s the pay. For others, it’s the atmosphere. And then there are those who enjoy the attention. We know what the patrons think when they look at us, and we’re okay with it. It’s all part of the experience.”

I sipped my drink, savoring the balance of flavors. The bartenders were more than just a novelty—they were artists, crafting each cocktail with a finesse that kept people coming back for more. It wasn’t just about the spectacle; it was about the quality.

A regular next to me, Emma, leaned over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Admit it, Alex. You come for the drinks but stay for the view.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Maybe at first. But it’s more than that. It’s the whole package. The ambiance, the skill, the… uniqueness.”

Tyler overheard and winked at us. “Glad to hear it. We aim to please.”

As the night deepened, the bar buzzed with life. Meskhenet wasn’t just a place to grab a drink; it was an experience, a blend of fantasy and reality served with a twist of lime. And as I watched the bartenders move with practiced grace, their bellies a testament to the unique allure of the place, I knew I’d be back.

[cha-melodius]

oh man, okay, so, firstprince, Harrod's food hall

(In which I take Henry's canonical skill at recommending cheese to its logical extreme. This got longer than I intended because I kept waxing rhapsodical about cheese [only half joking]. I hope it lives up to your wildest dreams!)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

Will You Brie Mine?

(firstprince, 5.8k, T; read it below or on AO3)

“Ah, Alex,” he says with a soft, fond smile curving his lips and crinkles at the corners of his blue eyes, like he’s pleased to see him.

Alex pointedly ignores the way that something in his stomach swoops.

“We have a new Manchego in this week that I think you’ll love,” Henry continues.

Right. Henry’s pleased to see him because Alex is his best customer. Alex assumes so, anyway. Surely no one else buys this much cheese on a weekly basis.

He hadn’t meant to start this little routine. June had been telling him since he moved to London that he had to go to Harrods and visit the food hall, so he’d gone just to be able to shut her up about it. And sure, it’d been reasonably impressive and he’d gotten some tasty stuff out of the trip, but he probably wouldn’t have been back if he hadn’t wandered by the cheese counter and caught sight of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing behind it. Alex hadn’t really spent much time contemplating his sexuality until he was suddenly confronted with floppy golden hair, ridiculously full lips, the finest cheekbones he’s ever seen, and broad shoulders only emphasized by the contrast of the green apron tied snugly around his narrow waist.

(It had still taken him several weeks of visits to the cheese counter before he realized why he was so drawn there, and a few more to come to terms with the fact that he really, really wanted to kiss the man behind it.)

Unfortunately, he’d been caught staring and had to play it off like he was particularly interested in cheese. He likes cheese, don’t get him wrong, but he never really thought too hard about it. Now he’s in pretty much every week to see Henry and has learned more about cheddar and brie and gruyere than he ever wanted to know. His fridge is always full. He brings cheese plates to pretty much every gathering he’s invited to. It’s kind of becoming a problem.

He hasn’t stopped visiting, though.

Today, as Henry tells him all about the Manchego, Alex tries his best to listen and not fixate on the mole next to the corner of Henry’s mouth or the way his shoulders strain the seams of his white uniform shirt. It’s not a particularly easy task for him, in all honesty.

“Would you care for a sample?” Henry asks, as if Alex has ever said no to him.

“I’d love one,” Alex tells him instead of saying I’d like to sample you.

The Manchego is quite good. Alex buys a chunk and takes it home, along with a baguette and a bottle of wine that Henry recommended to go along with it, then stands in front of his refrigerator and contemplates how absurdly pathetic he is.

Maybe he should make fondue for dinner.

~~~~~

“I don’t get why you don’t just ask him out?” Nora says as they weave their way through the various food hall areas. They’ve already purchased several pastries and a pile of chocolates, though Alex wouldn’t let them visit the wine shop until they’d seen Henry.

If Alex had his druthers they wouldn’t be here at all, but Nora is visiting for a job interview and pretty much demanded that Alex take her to see ‘the hot cheesemonger’ that he’s been talking constantly about for the last six months. (He hasn’t. She’s grossly exaggerating.)

“He’s in the service industry, Nora,” Alex argues. “Being hit on by customers is the worst. You get put on the spot and you have to smile and act all polite while you’re trapped because you’re at your job? I’m not going to do that to him.”

She pops a chocolate truffle into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. “Mm. You could casually ask when his shift ends and bump into him.”

Alex shoots an exasperated look her way. “That’s not better.”

“Oh, but accumulating the world’s finest collection of cheese in your one-bedroom apartment just so you can see him is a completely reasonable course of action.”

That, he doesn’t deign to dignify with an answer. Anyway, they’re nearing the cheese counter, which means they’re definitely done discussing this. He spots Henry immediately, looking unfairly adorable in his little green hat as he helps an elderly lady pick out some munster, and browses the display cases behind the counter as they wait. The fact that the other employee at the cheese counter doesn’t even bother trying to help him probably says something.

Eventually Henry finishes and turns toward them, though his smile falters slightly when he sees Nora. Weird. Probably Alex is just imagining things, because a moment later it’s back to normal.

“Hullo Alex,” he says, and Alex’s stomach does that swoopy thing at his name on Henry’s tongue, same as it does every week. “You’re early this week.”

Alex ignores the pointed look that he can feel Nora giving him. “Nora is visiting and wanted the ‘whole experience’,” he explains, gesturing with a sideways nod of his head toward her. “We’ve already hit the bakery and chocolate shop. Saved the best for last.”

Henry’s smile widens, and he ducks his head slightly before he looks back up. “Not actually last, though.”

“I mean, obviously Eric over at the wine shop is the best.”

“Of course,” Henry says solemnly. “Good to know where I stand.”

“You know me, always here to put you in your place,” Alex returns. Next to him, Nora loudly clears her throat and gives him a pointed look, and he has to bite back the too-revealing grinning on his face. “Right. Nora, this is Henry. Henry, Nora.”

“Hi,” she says, smiling in a way that makes Alex nervous. “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nora.”

Henry looks bemused by this information, his eyebrows arcing skyward as he glances over at Alex. “Really?”

“Ignore her,” Alex tells him.

“I’ve heard a lot about your cheese, then,” she revises, eyes sparkling with pure mischief.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Alex says. He can feel his fucking cheeks getting hot and prays it’s not noticeable. “Whatcha got this week?”

“Ah, a new one arrived that I think you’ll get a kick out of. Tête de Moine.”

Alex furrows his brow. “Tête…”

“… de Moine,” Henry repeats. “It means ‘monk’s head’.”

“Of course it does.”

Henry huffs a soft laugh. “It’s from Switzerland. This one’s aged four months, and it’s very full-bodied, with an earthy nuttiness to it. The real trick is in the serving though.”

“Oh?” Alex prompts. He has to admit, he could fucking listen to Henry talk about cheese all day. It’s not really the cheese, though; it’s how passionate and animated he gets, sometimes downright rapturous. It’s the spark in his eye and the confidence with which he speaks and the sheer depth of his knowledge.

Behind the counter, Henry holds up a finger to indicate they should wait a moment, then sets about retrieving a small wheel of cheese already set up on some kind of circular contraption. There’s a post sticking through the center of the wheel with a small blade radiating out toward the edge, which has a handle that Henry grabs. In one slow, smooth motion, he spins the blade around the top of the cheese wheel, and a delicate little rosette of cheese appears. Then he pinches it carefully by the base and holds it out over the counter toward Alex. It looks for all the world like he’s handing Alex a flower.

“Like this, it melts in your mouth,” Henry says, and Alex barely manages to avoid swallowing his tongue.

Their fingers brush as Alex takes the little cheese rosette from him, and Alex feels a little frisson of electricity even though Henry’s wearing gloves. Henry watches him expectantly as he sticks the whole damned thing in his mouth—because what else is he going to do with it?—and oh. Wow, that’s really something. It does melt in his mouth and it’s a little funky but not too much?

Henry’s cheese recommendations truly never miss.

“That’s fucking amazing,” he says once he’s finally swallowed it. “And it has to be served like that?”

“The only way to eat it,” Henry confirms. Then he turns his smile toward Nora. “Would you like to try it?”

“Sure,” Nora agrees, and as soon as Henry’s attention is diverted toward the cheese again she kicks Alex in the shin.

He gives her a what the fuck was that? look, and she in turn replies with some significant eyebrow raising and head tilting toward Henry, like he’s supposed to know what she’s on about. A moment later, she schools her expression back to normal as Henry reaches out to hand her a rosette, which she polishes off in about two seconds flat.

“Yeah, it’s good,” she says in her typical understated manner.

Whatever. Alex knows an exceptional cheese when he eats it. “So how do you sell it, then?” he asks Henry.

“Well, you can buy the whole wheel and the girolle to go with it, but I assume you’re not particularly interested in acquiring specialized cheese equipment,” Henry says. Honestly, Alex would probably let himself be talked into it, if Henry was doing the talking. This is definitely becoming a problem. “But I can shave you a collection of rosettes if you think you’ll eat them within a day or two.”

“A bouquet, then?” Alex jokes.

Henry’s cheeks go slightly pink, and Nora kicks him again. Alex ignores her.

“I suppose so,” Henry says.

“All right then. And the wine?”

“A full-bodied variety, like Bordeaux or Côtes du Rhône.”

“Perfect,” Alex says. “I have one at home, so I won’t even need to visit Eric.”

Henry’s lips quirk upward. “A shame to miss out on the best stop.”

“Did I, though?” Alex asks, scrunching up the side of his face in fake thoughtfulness.

It makes Henry laugh, which is pretty much everything.

He can’t even be annoyed that Henry pretty much ignores him to ask Nora about her visit as he works on the rosettes. Then he catches himself thinking that it’s kind of sweet that Henry’s making sure she’s included, before realizing that it’s his job to chat with the customers.

Jesus, Alex is hopeless.

“He’s nice,” Nora says once they’re done and have walked far enough away. Alex wasn’t looking for her approval, especially since probably nothing will ever happen, but still. He trusts her judgment. It feels good. “Also he totally wants to dick you down.”

“Nora,” Alex hisses, eyes going wide as he looks around to make sure no one heard her.

“And you obviously want him to, so.”

“How could you possibly know that after ten minutes?”

“Besides the fact that the entire time it looked like you wanted to eat him instead of the cheese?”

Alex huffs in frustration. “I meant about what he wants.”

Nora stops walking in the middle of an aisle between counters, and Alex drags her to the side so they don’t get mowed down. “Alejandro. Babe,” she says flatly. “The look on his face as he watched you eat that cheese was nothing short of pornographic.”

“You’re imagining things,” Alex scoffs.

“He. Wants. You,” she repeats firmly. “Ask him out. He’s not gonna say no, I promise. Ninety-six percent.”

Alex bites his lip. “Ninety-six?”

~~~~~

Nora’s numbers should be reassuring. Instead, Alex is freaking out. Ok, maybe he wants Henry, and maybe Henry wants him, but he’s never dated a dude before. He’s done precisely nothing with his bisexual revelation, partly because he’s always swamped with work and partly because he doesn’t want to go hook up with random guys. It’s not like he hasn’t kissed a guy before; he flat out made out with Liam back in high school, and it was nice but he still managed to come out of it thinking he was straight, so. That doesn’t inspire much confidence. The idea of kissing another man now makes him weirdly nervous because if he does and if the same thing happens—worse, if he kisses Henry and it doesn’t do anything for him—then he loses all of this. He likes what they have now. He still doesn’t know a lot of people in London outside his office. As ridiculous as it sounds, the cheese counter feels like a lifeline he can’t afford to let go of.

It’s probably better if they just stay friends. Acquaintances. Whatever the fuck they are.

Anyway, Nora is probably wrong. She couldn’t possibly be that certain after watching them interact for ten minutes. He holds firm to this (misguided) belief right up until he makes his weekly trip to Harrods and Henry positively lights up when he sees Alex approaching.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Henry says, not even bothering with a greeting as he immediately goes into the case to fetch something.

“Hello to you too,” Alex says with a lopsided smile.

“Yes, hello,” Henry huffs, “now come here and close your eyes.”

What.

Henry’s not even looking at him, he’s too focused on the cheese in front of him, and Alex has no fucking clue what to make of any of it.

“Uh, Henry? Is this some kind of new thing y’all are doing?”

Henry smirks at him. “Only for mouthy Americans. Are you coming?”

Jesus’ tits. Alex looks around, but not a single person in the bustling food hall is paying attention to them. Henry appears to be by himself at the counter today. With a deep breath, Alex braces himself for whatever’s about to happen and steps up closer to the counter.

“Now close your eyes and open your mouth,” Henry tells him, which is more or less what he expected, but still. Those words, in that voice. It’s a fucking lot.

“Henry, what—”

“Come on, after all this time, don’t you trust me?” Henry teases.

Well, when he puts it like that.

So Alex closes his eyes and opens his mouth, and a moment later a small morsel of cheese is deposited on his tongue—via toothpick, he realizes as he closes his lips around it, and not Henry’s fingers. Thank god, honestly. Fortunately, the flavor of the cheese completely distracts him from how insane all of this is, because wow. It’s hard and a bit crumbly, salty with a tang and kick of smoky, fruity spice that builds on his tongue. There are peppers involved, chiles like he has rarely tasted since he moved here, and the flavor of them just about punch him in the gut with the flavor of home.

He opens his eyes and finds Henry watching him raptly. That’s a lot, too.

“It’s unbelievable,” Alex says honestly. “What is it?”

“Queso de cincho enchilado,” Henry answers, with passable Spanish pronunciation. “Imported specially from Guerrero.”

“What?”

“I did some research and found out one of our suppliers had a contact in Mexico,” Henry explains. “And, well, you’re always complaining how it’s nearly impossible to get Mexican ingredients here, so I thought you might like it.”

Alex’s throat feels like it’s closing up around the emotion that’s trying to choke him. “You ordered it… for me?”

“If any of our customers deserve a special order, it’s you, Alex,” Henry says, a small, soft smile curving his lips.

“Oh,” Alex says.

His brain is spinning endlessly, like a gear never quite able to make contact with the next one. He needs something to make sense of this. He needs… a list.

1. Henry went out of his way to order something for him. 2. Henry saw a chance to bring Alex something that means something to him and made it happen. 3. Henry chose not just any Mexican cheese, but something special, something he wouldn’t get anywhere else. 4. Henry cares enough to know him.

Fuck.

With a truly heroic effort, he manages to paste on a smile, shoving the rest of it deep down where he will decidedly not inspect it later. “Well, thank you. It’s amazing. Honestly, I don’t know what to say.”

“That has to be a first,” Henry quips, and Alex protests with a ‘Hey!’ and a laugh, because the only other alternative is having a breakdown in Harrods about cheese.

They fall into something like their regular banter after that, and all of this is fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

It’s totally fine.

~~~~~

The queso de cincho enchilado haunts him. Quite literally, since he bought a large quantity of it and every time he looks in his fridge he’s reminded of what Henry did for him. It feels like a lot. It feels like maybe too much.

Maybe Alex needs to take a step back before he goes spinning out of control and fucks something up, badly.

For the first time in a while, he doesn’t visit the food halls that week, or the next. He’s got a crazy case on his plate at work and can’t afford to spare the time anyway. It’s fine. Henry probably won’t even notice he’s not there.

Then, a couple of days after the day he usually visits, he’s in the middle of a long, brutal run through Hyde Park to try to clear his head when he nearly collides with someone in a wool peacoat and a Burberry scarf.

“Jesus fuck, asshole, watch where you’re—”

Alex cuts off because, when he finally regains his balance and turns toward the person, he looks up into a pair of startlingly familiar blue eyes.

“Alex?”

“Henry,” Alex exhales. He suddenly feels much more out of breath than he did a second ago. 

Alex would try to claim that he almost doesn’t recognize him out of his uniform, but that would be a lie. He’d know that face anywhere. Those eyes, those cheekbones, those lips curled into a small, pleased smile. He’s bundled up against the February chill, but he still looks effortlessly put together in a way that makes Alex starkly aware of how sweaty and bedraggled he is in comparison. Alex is so overwhelmed by seeing Henry here, outside the safe realm of the Harrods food hall, that he almost completely misses the beagle sitting, well-behaved, at his feet.

“You’ve got a dog,” he manages. He feels strangely unmoored by the situation.

“That I do,” Henry says with a little chuckle. “This is David.”

Alex doesn’t mean to make a face, but it happens. “Weird name for a dog.”

“It’s after Bowie,” Henry tells him.

“Oh, well. That’s cool.”

A beat of silence stretches between them. Fuck, this is awkward. It’s never this awkward when there’s a case full of cheese between them. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your run,” Henry ventures.

“No, it’s fine. You just surprised me.”

“So you usually berate innocent pedestrians while you’re running, then?”

His teasing surprises a laugh out of Alex. “Fuck off with ‘innocent’, you stepped into my path.”

“Well, yes,” Henry admits. “And I do apologize for that. David was very excited about a squirrel.”

“Oh, blame it on your dog, real smooth,” Alex says, grinning, and Henry laughs. Alex makes a motion toward the beagle. “Can I pet him?”

“I’m sure he’d enjoy that,” Henry says.

Alex squats down in front of David and holds out his hand for him to sniff, which David does and then proceeds to immediately tuck his nose under Alex’s hand and nudge it up onto his head. He’s utterly adorable, and Alex spends several minutes scratching behind his ears and feeling some of the remaining tension bleed out of him—dogs really are magic—before Henry speaks again.

“We missed you at the cheese counter the past couple of weeks,” he says lightly. We, like any of the other employees there care about whether Alex comes in. He’s probably just that weird guy with the cheese addiction to them. He can appreciate why Henry would put it that way, though.

With one last pat, Alex stands again and pushes a hand back through his hair before remembering how gross it is. “Yeah, I got slammed at work,” he says. It’s mostly not a lie. He doesn’t actually need to explain why he wasn’t there, except he feels oddly compelled to. He quirks his lips into a sardonic smile. “Sorry, I know I’m probably a substantial part of your monthly sales quota.”

Henry laughs softly. “You are,” he confirms, a teasing glint in his eye. Then his expression goes more serious. “But that’s not why I was concerned.”

Oh. Henry was worried about him.

“Well, I’ll be back this week,” Alex promises.

“That’s good to hear,” Henry says, and when he smiles his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I should let you go before you catch a chill out here.”

Alex doesn’t want Henry to let him go, although yes, he’s getting really fucking cold in his thin exercise gear now that he’s not moving anymore. He thinks maybe if he wasn’t completely disgusting and exhausted he might ask Henry if he wanted to go get a cup of coffee. Or tea, whatever (he knows, in fact, that Henry’s a tea drinker). It’d be low stakes, friends get coffee all the time, and he could feel things out a bit more. Asking if he wants to get together some other time feels more intentional. Like a date.

They’re not at the shop. Alex could just ask.

“Yeah, ok,” he says instead. “It was good to bump into you, man.”

For some reason Henry’s smile seems to go a little tight at the edges. “It was. I’ll see you soon, Alex.”

~~~~~

It doesn’t occur to Alex until he’s standing in the shower later that he could have asked for Henry’s number at the very least. Now who knows when he might run into Henry again. Maybe he could just haunt Hyde Park during the same time frame and hope that he runs into Henry walking David again. Maybe he should just take Nora’s suggestion to ask him when his shift ends and meet him then.

He’s still contemplating his options when he visits the cheese counter that week. It’s oddly busy for some reason, and he waits a while for Henry to be free. Unfortunately that also means that they’re not going to have as much time as usual to chat, which is quite honestly the whole reason he visits. He’s just wondering if maybe he should come back later when Henry appears in front of him, clearly tired and worn around the edges but no less beautiful for it.

“You guys are hoppin’ today,” Alex says, glancing around.

“Yes, well, lots of romantic cheese plates to sell, I suppose,” Henry sighs.

Alex frowns in confusion. “What?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow?”

“Right, yeah, I totally remembered that,” Alex says, shaking his head as he bites his lip. “Shows you where my head’s been.”

“I hope for your girlfriend’s sake that that’s not actually true,” Henry points out, and now Alex is confused again.

“Girlfriend?”

Henry frowns back at him. “Nora?”

Alex chokes out a surprised laugh. “Oh, Nora’s not my girlfriend. I mean, we dated a while ago, but now we’re just friends. She’s dating my sister actually.” Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t ask. Anyway, that’s why she’s trying to move to London—her and my sister, actually—because June feels a need to watch over me or something, I guess. It’ll be good to have them here, though.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Henry says. “Sorry for assuming, you just talk about her quite a bit.”

“God, don’t tell her that,” Alex groans.

“So no girlfriend, then?” Henry asks casually, or it would be casual if he weren’t avoiding Alex’s eyes and fidgeting with some kind of cheese.

Alex swallows and licks his lips. “Nope. No boyfriend either. I’ll just be hanging out with James Bond tomorrow, I guess.”

“What?” Henry asks sharply, for reasons that are beyond Alex.

“I dunno, Bond movie marathon sounds like a good way to spend Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Right, of course,” Henry says with a tight smile. No explanation for the weird reaction is forthcoming, so Alex shrugs it off. “Our special cheese this week might be kind of moot, then.”

“Why’s that?” Alex asks.

Henry turns away to grab something, and when he turns back he’s holding up what looks like some kind of heart-shaped brie. “Neufchatel,” he says. “From Normandy.”

“The heart shape seems a little gimmicky for the Harrods cheese counter.”

“Ah, but it’s not actually a gimmick. The shape goes back to the Hundred Years’ War,” Henry explains. “The English occupied the region, and the story goes that the French dairy maids who fell for their occupiers gave them as gifts to the Englishmen.”

“Ok, now it makes sense,” Alex laughs. “Of course y’all would sell something that commemorates the people you tried to conquer falling in love with you.”

“I didn’t say it was an admirable story,” Henry protests, flushing a delightful pink. “It is a wonderful cheese, though.”

“Well?” Alex prompts. “You gonna give me a sample of your occupier cheese?”

Henry laughs and shakes his head, but he cuts Alex off a chunk and passes it over the counter. It actually is delicious, ridiculously creamy and velvety on his tongue. It’s also the kind of cheese that’s probably not something you’re going to eat alone, since he doubts it will keep well after it’s been cut into, but…

Alex has to admit, he’s kind into the symbolism of Henry giving him this particular cheese. Not that Henry is giving it to him, Alex is buying it, not to mention that Henry has probably sold a hundred of these heart-shaped cheeses today, but still.

“Yeah, ok, it’s really good,” Alex says, like it pains him to admit it. “I’ll take one.”

Henry blinks at him. “Really?”

“For my date with James Bond.”

A kind of weird look passes over Henry’s face again, but it’s gone as quickly as it had come. “All right,” he says. “I’ll get that wrapped up for you.”

Alex watches Henry package up the cheese, which means he absolutely sees Henry pick up a pen and write something on the inside of the butcher paper that he wraps around it. But Henry also gives no hint as to what it could be as he hands over the cheese and rings Alex up at the cash register. As expected, he doesn’t really have time to linger; there are more customers waiting to be served, so Alex takes his purchase and heads home, the small package burning a hole in his pocket. He can’t very well unwrap a soft cheese in the middle of the London streets or on the tube or something, so whatever Henry wrote remains a mystery until he gets into his kitchen and nearly tears the paper off.

It’s a phone number. Henry’s phone number.

Alex checks the time, and by now it’s after the food hall counters close. With slightly shaky hands, he types the number into his phone and presses call.

“Hullo?” a familiar voice answers, slightly distorted over the line.

“Henry,” Alex breathes. He just saw Henry less than an hour ago, and yet still the sound of his voice sets every one of Alex’s nerve endings on fire. “Um. It’s Alex.”

“Ah. You got my message, I see.”

“I did,” he confirms. A little puff of disbelieving laughter escapes him. “Leaving your number on the inside of a cheese wrapper? Really?”

Henry laughs softly. “I suppose I got tired of waiting for you to ask me for it.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me for mine?”

“If I did, it would have to be for some kind of special order purposes,” Henry tells him. “And I couldn’t use it for personal reasons. It’s against company policy.”

“Oh,” Alex says. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to.”

“Wanted to what?”

“Ask you. For your number. Or… on a date.”

He hears Henry exhale, and then, with immense fondness, he says, “You certainly took your time.”

“Fuck off,” Alex says automatically. Something thrums under his skin at Henry’s answering laughter. “I didn’t want to fuck it up,” he confesses.

“You didn’t,” Henry says softly. “You won’t.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“After six months, I think I know you at least that well, Alex.”

And yeah, Henry does.

“So, uh,” Alex starts, not even knowing where he���s headed with this until the words are coming out of his mouth, “Turns out I’ve got this really romantic cheese that probably shouldn’t be eaten alone.”

“I can confirm it’s better shared.” He can hear the smile in Henry’s voice.

“So you could come over, if you wanted. To my place. Tomorrow? I’ll make dinner. Not just cheese.”

“I’d love to,” Henry says, his voice full of something that fills Alex to the brim with warmth. “I can bring wine?”

Shoot. In his rush to get home, Alex forgot about the wine. So really—

“That’s perfect, baby.”

Alex feels the noise Henry makes over the phone in his toes.

~~~~~

Whatever possessed him to make their first date on Valentine’s Day at his own apartment and to volunteer to cook dinner, Alex is sure he doesn’t know. They could have gone for coffee. They could have gone out to dinner a few days later, or something reasonable that didn’t involve Alex fretting over last minute menu plans and laboring over the stove for hours. He considers something from his Mexican wheelhouse before deciding that sourcing ingredients at this point would be nearly impossible, and in the end he takes inspiration from the Neufchatel and goes French. Coq au vin, potatoes, haricot vert, crusty bread that he picks up from the French bakery down the road. For dessert, though, he dips into his precious supply of dried chiles that his abuela sent him and whips up the batter for a spiced chocolate lava cake that will bake while they’re eating dinner.

So, you know. Nothing fancy.

Henry shows up right on time with a bottle of wine to pair with the cheese and another for dinner, which he’d chosen after wheedling tonight’s menu out of Alex via text earlier. He’s utterly stunning in a blue sweater that looks ridiculously soft, and Alex desperately wants to touch it. Or maybe he just desperately wants to touch Henry.

He doesn’t, though. He greets Henry at the door, and they do the slightly awkward dance of knowing this is a date and knowing each other pretty well, but not knowing exactly what they are to each other yet. Are they on hugging terms? Kissing? Alex sidesteps the question entirely by taking the wine from Henry’s hands and leading the way back into the kitchen. 

It’s blissfully not awkward after that, though. The conversation flows easily as Alex finishes up the last bits of dinner. They drink wine and eat heart-shaped cheese and Henry drops light touches on Alex’s hip or his arm or his lower back as they maneuver around each other in the small space. He’s suitably impressed by Alex’s cooking and isn’t shy with his praise, which warms Alex to the core.

It is, all in all, probably the best date Alex has ever had, and by the time they retire to the living room couch after dessert he feels like he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin with anticipation. Something of it must show on his face, because Henry gives him a gentle smile that is clearly intended to put him at ease as he relaxes into the couch, his body angled toward Alex and his wine glass dangling loosely from his fingers.

“I’ve had a lovely time tonight,” he says, nudging a knee up against Alex’s.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Alex replies honestly, putting all of it into the smile he returns. “Me too.” Then he pauses, steeling himself, and Henry must sense it because he just waits. “There’s something you should know,” he says eventually. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Dated a guy.”

Henry’s expression is maddeningly neutral. “But you want to.”

“I didn’t do all of this because I don’t want to kiss you,” Alex retorts. That, at least, brings a pleased smile to Henry’s face. “I just… this isn’t some experiment for me, but some things are going to be a little novel.”

Henry nods and sets his wine glass on the coffee table, then shifts on the couch closer to Alex. He slides one hand onto Alex’s thigh just above the knee, and the other he reaches up to the side of Alex’s face, gently cupping his jaw. “We can take things as slow as you like.”

Alex leans in, inhales the scent of Henry’s cologne. “And if I’m not interested in taking it slow?”

“I can’t say I’d complain,” Henry answers with a soft puff of laughter.

His eyes drop to Henry’s full, wine-stained lips, to the mole at the corner of his mouth, to the other one at the edge of his jaw. They both sway closer, until the tips of their noses nearly brush.

“I have another confession,” Alex says abruptly, and Henry lets out a fondly exasperated sigh as he pulls back again and looks at him expectantly. “I’m not really that into cheese. Or, I wasn’t, I guess. I only really visited to see you.”

“I know,” Henry says, biting back a smile.

“What do you mean, you know?!” Alex demands.

“I mean, it was clear that you didn’t actually know much about cheese, and though you seemed interested, you never really struck me as a connoisseur,” Henry tells him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out again. “That’s why I always hoped, even when I thought you had a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes. “So you wanted me…?”

“Christ, from the first time you stopped at my counter, Alex. Now will you please kiss me—”

Alex leans in and presses his lips to Henry’s, and it’s everything he could have imagined and more. Henry’s lips are plush and soft under his, and he tastes like red wine and chocolate and chiles, and Alex already never wants it to end. Kissing Henry is new in the best way—from the way Henry’s end-of-the-day stubble scratches against his own, to the strong hands in his hair, to the sensation of the hard planes of Henry’s waist under his palms—but at the same time there’s something achingly familiar about it. Like coming home.

The more they kiss, the more he realizes that there’s something else that’s different about this kiss: it feels, unmistakably, like the last first kiss he’s ever going to have.

[effervescentdragon]

Piarles / coffee shop au ☕️

Este elbows him in passing with his unnaturally long arms, almost making Pierre drop the carton of oat milk he is carrying. He would have, if he wasn't such a good barista.

"What the fuck?" Pierre hisses. Este, the fuck, doesn't stop grinning.

"Your Fancy-Pants Chai Latte is here," he sing-songs the last word. Pierre can hear the capitalisation clearly, and he barely restrains the urge to turn around immediately. He knows that if he does it, Este will win. Fuck that.

"His name is Charles," he replies. Before he can add anything else, Este elbows him again, taking the boxes from him and pushing him back to the register in a surprisingly agile manouver for someone who looks like a praying mantis on a good day and like Slenderman on a bad one. Pierre goes, because he isn't in the mood to start a fight with Este. Besides, he's pretty sure they're both on thin ice with Otmar, and they both need this job, no matter how shitty it is. Neither of their scholarships covers everything they need. If they did, neither of them would be working in Alpine Caffe. Needs must, though, or whatever the saying is.

"Hello," he says with a wide smile that is, for once, genuine, and not his customer-service smile. It's hard not to be genuine around Charles for Pierre.

"Hello, Pierrot," Charles says, and the dimple in his cheek is as distracting as ever. "How have you been?"

Pierre shrugs. "Good. Studying, working, same old. How's your finals going?"

Charles groans, and Pierre laughs to cover up the instinctive reaction that groan gives him. "That bad, huh?"

Charles groans again. Pierre narrows his eyes, but Charles says "Don't ask, please. Professor Vettel is set to kill us, I am sure."

"So dramatic, Charlo." Pierre chuckles. "Medieval German literature isn't as interesting as you thought?"

"You know I only took the course because I had to." Charles pouts, and Pierre wants to sink his teeth in that full lower lip.

"You could have taken Intro to Economics," he says instead, then laughs at the utter betrayal on Charles' face. "I'm joking, cher. I would never be so cruel to suggest that for you, knowing what I know about your math skills." That makes Charles smile, and Pierre feels satisfaction in his very core at making Charles smile. "What will it be today? The usual?" Charles nods, and Pierre rings up the order, then busies himself with making Charles' drink.

The whole time he works, he feels Charles' eyes on his back. He imagines Charles checking him out, and many other things he really shouldn't be thinking about at work. He imagines the touch or the rings on Charles' fingers on his skin and wonders if they'd be cold, or warmed by Charles' body heat. He wonders how Charles' mouth tastes right now. He thinks of many things as he adds oat milk into the Chai Latte, and puts it on the counter with a smile.

"One extra large Chai Latte with extra espresso shot and oat milk. That will be 3.98. Anything else?"

Charles' eyes flash mischievously, but he only says "Thank you, Pear" sweetly and pushes a five at Pierre. "Keep the change," he says, and fails to wink, and then he's walking through the almost-empty caffee and out the door. Pierre watches him go, eyes firmly set below Charles' waist.

"You know that order is worth double what you charged him, right? Or are your math skills as bad as his supposedly are?"

"Fuck off, Esteban," Pierre says, refusing to blush. Este laughs from somewhere on the left.

"When are you finally going to ask him out? He's definitely interested. I don't know what you're waiting for."

The group of around seven giggling girls bursting through the door saves Pierre from having to answer Esteban's question. It's an old argument for them, which started the first time Charles stumbled into the caffee, wet from the rain outside and more beautiful than Pierre could have ever imagined a person to be, and started speaking in soft, accented English. Pierre recognized the accent, and switched to French, and the way Charles' eyes lit up and the way he switched into their mothertongue with excitement and relief was still one of Pierre's favourite memories.

Pierre can hear Esteban sigh as the girls approach the counter. "You're a fool," he says and pats Pierre's shoulder.

Pierre doesn't bother replying. Instead, he fixes his customer service smile on his face firmly, and prepares himself for half a dozen fancy, almost impossible orders.

--

The mouth underneath his tastes of watermelon and sweat. It's a singularly appealing taste to Pierre.

"You vaped again," he murmurs into the kiss, and Charles bites his lip in retaliation. "Oh, you'll pay for that."

Charles' eyes are live fire, his cheeks are flushed, and his arms and legs are wrapped tightly around Pierre's body. He stretches, pressing his whole body agains Pierre's. His necklaces are as warm as he is, and Pierre's cross ends up tangled in them. It feels appropriate.

"That's what I'm counting on," Charles says, and Pierre wants to say too many too truthful things, things he can see reflected in Charles' eyes. He doesn't, though. It's not the time.

Instead, he lowers his body over Charles', and he takes Charles' lower lip in between his own, and he pushes inside, and he swallows all of Charles' moans, and all of Charles' whimpers, and all of Charles' breaths.

[rebornologist]

Hello I'm here for the Tea Prompts as well because I didn't know about these and reading them, I wanted more from you about our resident grumpy but mellowed cat Xanxus. May I ask for matcha tea; chai tea; hibiscus tea please? And if it's not too much trouble please english breakfast tea on the side. Thank you so much and I loved how you thought about the character. I love it when writers understand the character.

Thank you for the high praises! I really try because I adore these morally grey (honestly, terrible people) little freaks in the KHRverse and want to think of them in a multidimensional way without watering down the complexity of their character building.

♡ Xanxus + proposals, spice, fav places, family

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ matcha tea; how and when do they propose to their s/o?

✧ He doesn’t. At least, not properly. Marriage would have to be something that his s/o insists on, and he would have his mental gymnastics cut out for him in weighing the emotional costs and benefits of compromising with that request. He’s more likely to hear the suggestion to get married, not even respond, and leave them wondering if he was even listening to what they were saying. He was, for the record. He’s just taking some time to let the thoughts simmer, instead of chewing them out over bringing such an idea to the table.

Being legally tied together means absolutely nothing to this man, and the thought of it stresses him out due to his attachment wounds. He cares about them, admittedly, despite everything. Despite himself, and as much as he wants to bury those feelings.

He would begrudgingly accept any well thought out, private, intimate, [insert more synonyms for lowkey] proposal, and granted his s/o does the bulk of the wedding planning. He’s kind of babygirl for that.

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ chai tea; how do they spice up their relationship?

✧ His relationships are inherently pretty spicy (in the traditional and nontraditional sense) because he’s a mercurial man. He’s not great for anyone who doesn’t do well with reactivity. His moods can be all over the place, and that’s likely what is spicy enough for him and his relationships.

I’ve said before that his s/o is often the one to propose they do anything new, and a lot of him complying with their requests is because it pleases them (and him). He doesn’t often go out of his way to please them, but he also prides himself in keeping his s/o happy and is more easily swayed to push his comfort zones if they drive a hard bargain.

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ hibiscus tea; what’s their favourite place to take their s/o?

✧ He is not particularly adventurous in general, and while his s/o may frequent a specific spot, it would be only once in every ten visits that you’ll find Xanxus with them. He doesn’t mix well with the general public, if I’m so honest. He’s a man with a huge, intimidating, attention-drawing aura about him, and he’s easily ticked off.

No matter how good your customer service skills are, it’s unlikely that Xanxus will be pleased enough to leave a 5-star review of your cafe. He prefers spaces that require less petty social interaction. His favourite place is definitely his personal room(s) in the mansion. He unexpectedly fares well in a large dim bookstore or fancy library, granted he is just going to plop down onto the big sofa and take a nap in hopes that no one bothers him. Everyone has to be extra careful to not set him off in that space though, because that is one flammable enclosed space.

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ english breakfast tea; would they want a family?

✧ In a sense, he has a family whether he likes it or not, though not by blood. He has his assassin team, the Vongola as a whole, and of course, his baby boy Bester.

He’s surprisingly sweet with Bester, though the liger does have a similar temper like his handler. Bester is really only super soft and tolerant with Xanxus’s partner(s), and that totally annoys him, kind of like when your cat likes the s/o more than it likes the actual owner. It might be because they spoil Bester with extra treats, and they end up being the good cop to Xanxus’s bad cop in the parenting dynamic.

Anyway, I can’t imagine Xanxus wanting to have kids, aside from to feed his ego and to follow his blood family’s traditional customs and values. He doesn’t have the emotional capacity to support and raise a child healthily and is reluctant to replicate the trauma that he experienced in his upbringing.

[ititledit]

Cover letter tips, please? <3

Quick note - I only use Tumblr mobile which does limit my ability to write/format long response well but I will do my best! Sorry it's taken so long to answer, I haven't actually finished so this is v1!

This anon is because I voted for "write a cover letter" on the poll about "which adult activity are you happiest to do" - the number of people happy to build Ikea furniture is mind boggling to me!

A little about me. I am a manager and have been involved in recruitment for many years. I have shortlisted and interviewed people for roles from apprentice up to senior leadership. I have also mentored several people into my industry.

And I have worked for several industry lead companies.

Tip one - the mindset.

You are not writing about yourself, you are writing about your friend, who is the ideal candidate for this job. They just so happen to have done the exact same things as you, but they are not you. You love them. You are proud of them and impressed by their achievements.

Socialisation teaches us to be modest and not to value what we have accomplished ("because I did it I guess it wasn't such a big deal?"), so framing the cover letter as being for a dear friend can help to get over this discomfort. This doesn't work for everyone though, but I think it's still worth trying.

When something is ahead of us we view it as a dream or aspiration, and someone else who has that thing is superior, Impressive, has their life sorted out. But when we look at those same things in our own past, we devalue them, partly because they become normalised to us... But I also think that living in a society that minimises women's achievements lead us to devalue our own - we judge ourselves with the eyes of patriarchy, rather than the eyes of someone who loves us.

So treat yourself as you would someone you love. Recognise what you have done and acknowledge the value of those things.

Tip 2 - The Process.

go through the job advert and make a bullet point list of the things they have explicitly asked for. This will be a mix hard and soft skills, or even come from how they describe the job environment. Leave a few lines between each bullet point.

- Computer literate

- Customer service

- Fast-paced environment

- Changing priorities

- Organisation

- Field specific systems/knowledge

- Previous experience in the industry

Next you are going to bullet point all the things you have done on a separate piece of paper. Again, leave space between them.

If you are young and early in your career you will need to find these things from a wider pool. If you are established in your career then you may only need to use your current job and maybe one or two previous roles.

- Qualifications (all of them - school, college, music, sports, anything you worked for and were examined in)

- Working in shop/bar/warehouse

- Volunteering

- Extracurricular activities

- Work experience

- Your current job

- the job before that

- Childcare for your siblings/cousins

There are two methods for what to do next

Method 1

Take the list of requirements and apply it to everything in the experience list

- working in shop/bar/warehouse = use computer for stock taking, fast paced customer facing environment, have to organise the kitchen/stock, prioritising orders

- volunteering with the scouts = using emails to communicate and organise

Method 2

Take some scissors and cut up all the bullet points of things you have done. I like to have the piece of paper with the list of requirements on the left and the cut up bits on the right.

Then you start pairing them up. Doesn't matter how tenuous it is, you are making what you have done match what they want. Also you can use the same example for multiple things, if it is the best fit for those.

Computer literate = learning IT at school, current job, volunteering to help teach elderly people use emails.

Customer service = bar/shop work, volunteering with scouts

Fast paced environment = bar/shop work, doing theatre tech at school, being on a sports team

Changing priorities = looking after your siblings/cousins, a project you worked on at college, bar/shop work

Organisation = scheduling your work/school/extracurriculars, current job,

Field specific systems/knowledge

Right I'm posting this now, but I will try to write the next part soon.

[oldsargasso]

hehehe I'm glad to be a menace 😊

You did mention Dean's age insecurity in your ficlet! I do think Winner is prob close to Kim's age, yes, even tho it's not mentioned afaik. I read Kenta as being at least late twenties, if not early thirties? Which puts some time between him and Dean (at least Dean knows how to wash dishes SDGDFG DKMM he's got service industry trauma)

Kim providing that competency kink 😌 Kinbaku would be so nice for them! The attentiveness and the constant touching. THE TRUST!! And Kenta's muscles are made for it LBR. As good as I think he'd be at keeping his hands in place and not moving, even without being tied down, I know he'd find such freedom in being able to just be.

Yes, Dean is absolutely doing it to be Good at it, he wants to be told how skilled he is and given all the compliments. And doing it under Kim's guidance is also part of it for him, too. Having someone pay close attention to what he's doing matters!

And why am I melting at the thought of Kim letting things be done to him first when one of the others is feeling insecure about wanting it?????? Like I'm? SO SOFT??? The care, the reassurance it implies. I can honestly hear his tone of voice so clearly, the forwardness and directness and lack of judgement. They would literally all be a mess without him is2g

His arms bulging, his chest puffed out, his eyes glazed over, his head lolling- IT'S… CUTE. HAHAHA 😏

I'm sitting here drawing hearts all over this ask by the way

okay I knew I had shared a Thought about it somewhere!! I went looking for Kim's profile and he's 26 (if the show is 2023) which makes sense for Winner to be around the same age. Tricky cause he seems more immature but also more established (similar experience to Babe and Way in racing?) and then Dean a few years younger and Kenta a few years older makes sense to me. (and then Pete would be closer to mid 30s which tracks with him having a well-established company) no WONDER Dean is so furious all the time, he has that customer service spirit.

who doesn't love Kim and his superpower of being a functioning human being 😌 imagine trying to name ONE thing he's not good at!! impossible!!

yesss like I think Kenta wants to be perfect with honour bondage and he CAN be but he shouldn't have to be! that's the point! also I think it would be nice for him to not have to worry about accidentally breaking free/overpowering anyone. plus his glorious chest decorated with lovely ropes... it would be appreciated greatly by anyone I'm just saying. (I wonder if Kenta understands the appeal of his body. for so long he's lived in it as a tool. it probably takes some time and a lot of compliments and such for him to understand that Kim et al. also get something out of looking at him)

actually i think that's why it would work really well if they were practicing kinbaku on Winner too - the whole neglect thing we talked about. he's just there simply to provide a body for Dean to show Kim what he's learned. they both want 100% of the attention but in such different ways. Winner because he's used to having it, and Dean because he's worked so hard and needs someone to recognise the effort he's put in. (I realise that's just Dean's canon storyline lol) but you know, Dean can't jump straight into blowing Kenta's mind as payback, he's gotta work up to it.

it just makes sense! Kim's entire thing is non-judgemental and helpful, of course he's happy to test things out for his boys. plus once he's experienced something, it's easier to tailor it to better suit whoever asked for it. and sometimes he deserves to have of all the attention like that! in the end it really always just boils down to "here's this practically perfect dude... and his three loser boyfriends" and that's what we love!

[ero-heart]

There is barely any fanfics about the bandits from project nexus, which is a shame because I adore them, so I made one myself!

Reminder that all of my stories’s readers are gender neutral unless specifically stated,, same goes to this one! Hope you like it!

Cw: Violence, food burn 😔

SHARING IS CARING!

(Bandit x Reader)

You tried your best to succeed in life, it was hard. Slaving away at your customer service job, fighting rowdy clients, long walks through the dark streets to your tiny run down apartment. Without counting the randos that try to take over your home, those you had to fight to the death for the right to it. It’s not like your landlord cared if someone killed you and took over your living space (if they payed rent), that was how you got your apartment in the first place and it will be yours until some bastard manages to get lucky. It was hard, but you were strong, you were still standing and you did not intend to get less tougher. You were still a softie tho, all tough guys have a soft side. And this soft side was what brought you to this situation.

He was looking up at you with bright eyes, you stood tall and imposing. You won another fight, you got him on his back. This bandit jumped on you on your way home, most likely due to the bag of mini hotdogs you got from your work on the convenience store. Looking down at him, his dazed expression send a pang to your heart. He was fighting for food just like you were. You knew bandits, it was not your first encounter with one of them, they were hungry folk like everyone else but it’s significantly harder of them being able to get a job to get money for food, their communication skills were not great (most being non verbal) and employers had preference towards stronger grunts, which they were not. That also made it harder for them to fight for food when they were alone. Life was entirely harder for these guys. You sighed and threw the bag of hotdogs towards them, you could go one day without dinner.

“Enjoy it, next time I wont be as merciful..”

You left, walking on the dark sidewalks. The man on the floor trembly got their hands on the bag, sitting up to look at the contents inside it, the smell of food hit him, actual food, he might as well cry. The bandit immediately dug into it, wolfing down the hotdogs like it would be his last meal. That person beat him up and still gave him the price, he was astonished. Sharing was rare for bandits, everyone only knew how to take care for themselves and never think of someone else. When a bandit SHARES with another one, it was a sign of great trust and affection towards them. No one ever shared with him, and he never shared with anyone. But now their head was spinning. A strong grunt just shared, GAVE him all of their food. The bandit was blushing thinking about it, this grunt really knew how to fight, it was so impressive, they looked so cool during battle. His heart was melting, he didn’t knew what was happening, he wanted that grunt close, he wanted to share with them.

About three days later, when your shift ended, you came across that same bandit. You immediately got defensive at the man, but he simply handed you a piece of candy wrapper. He looked at you expectantly, almost bashful, seeming more and more excited as your hand got closer to his. You didn’t know if it was a trap, but when you rapidly took the wrapper away from him, the bandit beamed and ran away with his hands covering his mask cheeks. You were definitely confused, was this a gift? You didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so you kept it on your bedroom’s shelf. The same happened on the day after, he gave you a tomato sauce can and ran away. You washed it before putting on the shelf. The next day he gave you a crumpled coffee stained document, again to the shelf. It kept going until it came down on you that he was sharing you his food. You face palmed so hard to not have come to the realization sooner, you couldn’t believe it. Looking at your ceiling, you took a deep breath as you held your teddy tighter, you could regret everything you are about to make, but hopefully it would be worth it.

On the next night, the bandit was about to hand you a glass shard before you spoke.

“Look don’t, I- look you don’t have to. Just.. follow me please.”

You made a motion for him to follow you as you start walking. He jogged right by your side, nervous and curious about what you would show him. Soon you arrived at your apartment complex, passing the sleeping concierge, you were now holding his hand as you two got up the flight of stairs, the bandit was completely overjoyed by the physical contact and just followed through to where you were guiding him. You were not aware of his blissfulness however, upon finally arriving on your floor, you take the keys off your pockets and unlock the door of your apartment. You immediately guide him to your kitchen table before going to close the door, then march right to the fridge. The bandit looks around this new place with big curiosity, was this were you lived? It was noticeably tidier than the place he took shelter in. Your place had a couch, did you sleep in there? Did you have an actual mattress? He had one, they were super proud of finding it, his sleep had never been better. The bandit immediately noticed the smell of cooking meat, quickly getting off the chair and following it to glue themselves behind you, he looks over your shoulder to see you frying two patties on a pan. You jumped upon contact, turning around to face them and gently pushing them away, since they were too close and could get burned by the sizzling grease.

“It’s not over yet wait a bit.”

This didn’t made him go away tho, hovering you hovering the stove through all of the cooking process. When it was done, you shook the burgers from the pan to a plate. The bandit wasted no time and quickly took and brought a burger to their mouth under the mask, which caused on a half eaten patty being dropped back on the plate and the bandit blowing his own mouth while they tried to chew the hot meat inside it. You freaked out, unsure what to do you held their cheeks and told them to spit it out, they refused and successfully gulped down the food as tears streamed down his cheeks to your hands. You decided to go grab some tab water to help with the bandit’s insides. Bringing the glass to his mouth, they take it and tilts to drink it, rapidly. Soon when the glass is empty,

“Hic!”

He got hiccups.

You stay quiet for a bit before bursting out laughing over the absurdity of the situation as your guest continued hiccuping. You brought a stranger home to eat only for a burn freak out and now hiccups. Through sorries you guide the boy again to sit on the table and place the burger plate in font of him, rubbing his back as you continue laughing. You soon take a sit across them, watching him now safely munch on the warm food. You knew he was your problem now. He came in every day for more food and to share his food with you. You had to work extra hours for the new mouth you had been feeding, you also had to eventually eat the trash he has been bringing you every day for his gifts to not go unappreciated, but everything was worth it, this dude had grown on you and you adored him, as much as he adored you.

And that’s it! I hope it wasn’t messy haha! This will definitely have a part two,, I am thinking on giving a name for our Bandit friend! Mosher maybe? I hope everyone here is having a good day, if not,, I hope this story could help! Stay safe everyone 💝

[flannelepicurean]

Saiyan Pride

I started off having a crack fic continuation from this situation, but I started bleep-booping on it this morning and it turned into some fluffiness featuring a transgender reader with three excitable alien roommates, and a "lost in translation" that actually hit me kinda deep when I got into it. So, uh...yeah. I was having some trans feelings today, here you go. 💖

————————————————

They really wreaked some havoc when they landed. Or tried to, anyway. Goku and the boys took care of it, or that's what you heard (not from them, though; they tell it a little different). Either way, it's not that hard to believe, no matter which direction you squint at the story.

They're okay roommates, though.

Sure, they come and go at weird hours, and they can get pretty loud. And it's hard to explain the space ships, and the bunker add-ons, but after the first time Nappa grumbles, "Lemme handle this," nobody ever gets a parking ticket at the house again, and they always come through with rent, so you don't ask a whole lot of questions. 

It's not clear what they do for a living. Their soft skills leave a lot to be desired. Vegeta can at least dress himself like a halfway normal person, but his skills are granite. Iron. Even Raditz has better customer service game.

But they treat you decently. And when you finally take the plunge, and change your hair, and put on the new outfit you bought, and grab a bag of your old stuff to take to the donation center, you pause for a second in the living room. 

And sure enough, Raditz looks up with slight puzzlement and remarks, “Your hair’s different.”

And you shrink a little, and stand up straighter anyway, and explain that there are going to be some…changes. You do your best to explain it, in hopes that it will come out right, and it’s still a little awkward, but you explain to your roommates that you’re transitioning. 

They all hop up from the couch immediately, and the atmosphere becomes raucous and excited. 

“Whoa, you can DO THAT?!” Raditz squawks.

“Unbelievable!” Vegeta cries. “I didn’t even know you’d been training!”

“What are your new powers?” Nappa demands, and then whirls toward Raditz. “Get the scanner, I wanna see what level–”

You wave your hands and raise your voice and explain that GENDER, it’s a GENDER transition, TRANSGENDER!

They fall silent, eyes wide. 

“Trans…?” Vegeta breathes. “TRANSFORM YOUR GENDER?! Not even Kakarot is that powerful!” He places a hand on your shoulder. “You must truly be an astonishing warrior.”

Raditz leans in with a friendly but feral grin and a jubilant, “You wanna spar?”

You back slowly toward the door with promises of pizza in hopes of distraction.

It works.

————————————————

“Whoa, you look cool,” Raditz observes. “What’s the flag for?” 

You inform your roommates that you’re meeting up with some friends to go to Pride, and find yourself immediately caged by a cluster of keen-eyed Saiyans.

“Wait, what?!” Vegeta inquires. “Where are you going?”

You stammer out an explanation about Pride. Pride Month. You add that there’s a parade.

They exchange glances at lightning speed, and round back to you again.

“THERE’S A WHOLE MONTH?!” Nappa hollers.

“IN WHO YOU ARE, AS YOURSELF?!” Vegeta confirms.

“There’s a parade…about PRIDE?!” Raditz yawps.

You nod, quaking.

Vegeta throws an arm around your shoulders, beaming with lunatic glee. “WAVE YOUR FLAG HIGH AND GET IN THE SHIP! EVERYONE! EVERYBODY GET IN THE SHIP, WE’RE GOING DOWN THERE, RIGHT NOW!”

————————————————

They act exactly like aliens. Which…makes sense, really, but still. 

Your friends are polite about holding in their laughter. But they also don’t know exactly how to deal with the situation. The Saiyans gawk unabashedly, but with the same bewildered and bewildering reverence they gave you. 

One of your friends nudges you and motions to a space a few yards away, where Vegeta stands, craning his neck to ask a towering glamazon, "So, you're telling me they tried to crush your spirit, because of who you are, but you found your way in a hostile world and became both fierce and fabulous?” He rubs his chin and muses, “Your power levels must be off the charts..."

You trade a shrug with your friend because…well…he’s not wrong. 

And you’re not really surprised when Nappa declares, with the carnival glee of a spirited child and the full-chested power of an enormous Saiyan warrior, “This…this is the BEST PLACE ON EARTH!” And, looking around at the crowd, the different flags, and the many different folks, the colors and shapes and all the visuals, the feathers and flair, and cargo shorts and clogs, and rainbows, and neon, and leather, and glitter, and tee shirts and jeans, and everything else, you kinda get what he means. 

You can’t really explain why he’s right, but for some of the wrong reasons. But his heart’s in the right place, maybe? And you’re having a pretty good time. 

————————————————

You look up at a sharp knock on your bedroom door, and open it to find all three of your roommates crowded into the hallway, looking serious. Your stomach and heart take racing elevators in opposite directions. 

“Hi,” Raditz says, with some measure of cheer. 

You give them a cautious greeting. 

“Seems like the transformation’s going well,” Nappa observes, encouragingly.

You pause for a moment, then just smile and offer some thanks. It’s a little complex. A little complicated. They still don’t get it. But they’re really supportive, and that’s nice. 

Vegeta adopts a businesslike tone. Informs you, “We very much enjoyed attending the Pride festivities last year, and owe you a debt of gratitude for introducing us to the other warriors.���

You offer a hesitant nod.

He continues, “Some of the individuals at the collective have been training us to join the alliance.” Before you can sort out quite what he means, he motions to Nappa and Raditz. They shuffle around a bit while he explains, “You’ve clearly been training hard, but it’s important to be properly equipped, as well.”

He steps out of the way, giving Nappa room to step forward, and present one of those weird cases they ship stuff in. They maneuver it into your room, and watch while you open it. 

“We know this isn’t your final form, but this should be able to handle it, whatever the transformation brings.” Vegeta explains, nodding toward the set of Saiyan battle armor. Just your size.

You nod toward it as well, stunned. And puzzled. 

You look back up at your roommates, and find them watching you with a look you’ve never really seen from them before. It’s a bit like that weird, smirky expression they get when they cheat at board games, or catch each other cheating at board games. But the fierceness around the eyebrows is different. And the eyes have a kind of contentment that’s still pretty intense. 

They just seem…proud.

So, inevitably, whatever else you may be feeling, you do put forth the critical question. 

They nearly ricochet off the walls. 

“Of course we’ll go with you!” Vegeta assures.

“ARE YOU GONNA BRING THE FLAG?!” Nappa booms. 

Raditz sidles up to you and murmurs, “That’s technically battle armor, it’s not really, y’know, formal. LIke, parade-style. But I think you’d be okay.”

And so you prepare yourself to head to Pride with the Saiyans again.

[operatorsdiner]

A full house: Entry 7

Wren sat silently in the farthest booth, staring out the window, waiting for Dante to bring them their order. The rain methodically thrummed against the roof of the building only adding to the boring atmosphere of the restaurant tonight. A sigh left Wren's throat as the soft clacking of a plate on the table in front of them drew their attention away from the outside world. “Order up,” Dante hummed as he wiped his hand on his apron. “Hawaiian roll french toast with honey glaze.” He smiled proudly. Wren's gaze turned to the plate in front of them staring down at the 5-star gourmet food placed before them. Sitting up straight they took the fork out of their napkin and began to dig in. Dante turned; leaving Wren to enjoy their 30 as he went back to share his creation with the others. Wren greedily dug into the food in front of them as they savored the sweet taste on their tongue. It wasn't often that the store was empty enough to allow Dante to work on his culinary skills, but when the store has been empty since 12 AM it's hard not to try and concoct something. Wren enjoyed any food placed in front of them though, not just Dante’s cooking. Compared to the prison food they consumed for 2 years, Dante’s food was like heaven on earth. Prison food wasn't too bad, it was filling; however, so was dirt, and the dirt was preferable. Getting caught shoplifting sucked and snubbed any job opportunity they had of getting a high position in any industry. Being stuck in a dead-end job with coworkers who equally hate their job brought them some solace though, as it meant they were not alone in this feeling of emptiness. Wren continued to eat as they pulled out their phone and began scrolling as they enjoyed their break. They had always done this when work was too slow and even when work was busy. The only time they weren't on their phone and would step in to help was when everyone else was struggling to do their job, which was always a complaint that they heard from everyone else.

Truthfully Wren didn't care what the others had to say about their behavior, because anything that they said could easily be proven as hypocritical. Dante and Enzo were chronic smokers and constantly took breaks in order to satisfy that craving, Alex was a mute and would get overwhelmed too easily by the basic dinner rush despite being the head cook, and Baylen was just Baylen. “Who are they to judge when they have their own reasons to abandon this sinking ship?” they pondered to themself as they continued to scroll. While Wren hated their coworkers' attitudes about their lack of enthusiasm for their job, they did admire their consistency; Dante wearing his evil eye and mixed metal jewelry, Enzo's dry humor, Baylen’s laid-back behavior, Alex's anxiety going full circle to confidence, Adrian's great customer service, and Vesper's ability to match the energy of customers. It was something that Wren could at least say was one positive of working here. The sounds of praise from Adrian and Enzo as Dante took their empty plates were nothing but background noise to Wren as they plugged their earbuds in to have their own personal bubble once more. 

Enzo looked at the clock and signalled to Dante to follow him. Leaning into the office, Enzo whistled to Alex and Baylen to grab their attention, “It's dead as fuck in here. Dante cooked up some recipe he’s working on in school if you want any, but we're gonna head to the back to have a smoke break.” He hummed as he leaned out again, not waiting for a response. Alex and Baylen looked at each other once more before Baylen raised his hands to do quotations, “‘Smoke break’, yeah sure.” He snorted sarcastically as he swivelled his chair back around to face his monitors. Alex chuckled as he swivelled back in his own chair. “I’m telling you, dude, either A) they’re secretly dating or B) they were tragic lovers in a past life.” Baylen hummed in response. “Maybe, or maybe they're just fucking gay but not gay for each other,” Alex grunted as he wrote the schedule for the next week. “Well, you know the deal. 20 dollars will be earned eventually.” 

Outside of the restaurant, Dante held the door for Enzo as they stepped out, pulling out their cigarette of choice, and placing it between their lips. Dante pulled out his zippo and waved Enzo closer as he held up his hand to prevent the flame from going out. They stood close until the tips of their cigarettes glowed crimson, soon pulling away. Dante squatted down to the concrete as Enzo stood next to him leaning against the brick wall behind him. “T’nights so fucking dead, dude,” Enzo grumbled as they took a drag and pulled it from their lips, ashing it to the floor. Dante hummed and exhaled his own disgusting gust of cancer while fiddling with his evil eye necklace. “I’d rather have a dead night than a full house. You know our pay is based on the entire day, so if we didn’t make shit one night it’ll be covered by the day shift.” Enzo snorted and shook their head. “God you're terrible for thinking that way, but I love it when you're right.” He smiled as he took another hit. They continued to chat and smoke, not caring about their surroundings as they enjoyed their time together, their conversation having no care until Dante was reminded of something. “Hey dude, I've been meaning to ask this, but do you know what happened to the freezer? No one really gave me a straight answer.” Dante glanced up to Enzo, hoping for the most deadpan dickhead they knew to finally give him some answer. Enzo stared straight ahead as his face scrunched in confusion; only then did they both realize how quiet their surroundings had become. “Well uh…” Enzo began dropping his arm holding the cigarette to their side. “I actually don’t kn-” Snap. Both their heads snap straight forward, staring at the woods ahead of them. The back of the building always unnerved the night crew. At night the only light there was the one at the back door, and it illuminated only the asphalt before the woods. The inky black of the unknown lurked not even 12 feet away, and it made Enzo queasy. There had always been rumors about those woods since he was a kid; a tall man that sent people mad and drove them to kill, a pale creature that looked human but would rip a man limb from limb with inhuman strength, and a demon made of so many eyes one would see the abominations of the earth reflected in them. All of them were just old folk tales, of course, made to keep kids out of the woods and away from the wildlife that could kill them. Enzo knew that so why were they frozen in anticipation? Why was their heart racing as they stared ahead? Dante was frozen in the same way. They were both grown adults, yet being told the same folk tales from a young age brought them the same terror. Snap. Dante scrambled on the ground and to their feet, moving close to Enzo while reaching into their back pocket to pull out their knife. Their hearts slammed in sync as they waited for something. The snapping of twigs seemed to get closer as Dante pulled out their knife and held it in their fist. The sounds grew closer and more rapid as he took a stance in front of Enzo, preparing for the worst. His heart raced as the noise came straight towards them as Dante sucked in a breath and took a step forward, ready to make the first and final blow. The sound stopped quickly as a small gray rabbit stepped into the light of the building. Dante and Enzo stared at the creature as it sat on its hind legs, cleaning its face before looking up at the two humans who seemed as if they were going to explode. Enzo let out a sigh of relief and placed their hands on their knees as they tried to regain their composure. Dante huffed as he began to chuckle and put away his knife, “Man, I think that's the hardest we've tweaked ever.”

“Hello my-” Dante and Enzo screamed and jumped into each other's arms as someone rounded the corner. The man also jumped back at the sudden reaction and shouted in surprise as well. After a pause, Dante lunged at the man, slapping his arm repeatedly and yelling profanities at him in Spanish. The man only laughed and used his shoulder to defend himself. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I know, I'm sorry!” he laughed as he took the beating like it was nothing. Enzo sighed and held a hand to their chest, feeling their heart thumping at a mile a minute. “Jesus Christ, Brian, you scared the shit out of us.” He sighed as Dante continued to slap Brian. Brian Thomas, another regular of the night shift, was one of the beloved customers amongst the crew and was a part of a little trio that frequented the diner at oddball hours of the night. He smiled a crooked gap-toothed smile at Enzo that could almost melt his bitchy, stone-cold heart. Almost. Dante finally stopped slapping Brian's arm and leaned into his chest, groaning loudly. Brian laughed as he wrapped his arms around Dante and rocked him back and forth“. Rough night?” he inquired as he smiled again. “Dead night.” Dante muffled through Brian's chest. “Ahh makes sense. You cancer-filled crusaders at least making it through?” He squeezed Dante. Enzo shrugged. “Yeah, to the best. Are the T’s with you?” Brian laughed and finally let go of Dante. “Tim’s inside giving Alex a panic attack and Toby’s off with friends. Before you ask, we're also shocked that he has friends,” he chuckled. Enzo nodded; straightening out his uniform and pulling open the backdoor. “Well, we’ll be in to serve you now. See you inside, Mr. Thomas.” Brian laughed as he nodded, turning the corner and disappearing into the night again. Dante and Enzo stepped back in and headed to their station to continue their jobs.

Wren leaned back with their phone in hand, occasionally looking up to peer at Alex on the verge of panic as they listened to Tim’s order. While Alex wrote on the notepad, Dante came up behind them and placed a gentle hand on their shoulder before taking the notepad out of their hand. Dante said something that couldn’t be heard over Wren's music as he wrote down stuff on his notepad and poured a cup of black coffee for Tim. Wren’s eyes flickered to the door as Brian walked in, sitting down next to Tim at the counter and patting him on the back. Wren grunted at the sight and sunk into their booth to look at their phone once more, drowning out the world around them. Tim and Brian had gotten up from the counter and moved to a table close to the door out of Wren’s line of sight. Wren scrolled through Facebook, observing all the people's life achievements they’d missed while they were in prison. Most things were to be expected, such as people getting married, having a baby, or getting a house; things that just received an eye roll from them. To their annoyance, their ‘30 minute break’ was interrupted once again by the door being slammed open and a figure looming at the threshold. Wren’s face scrunched in irritation as they looked at the man at the door from bottom to top. Beat-up black Adidas shoes that looked like they were about to tear away from the sole at any second, black pants stitched up with scrap fabric and handmade patches of bands Wren couldn't even imagine pronouncing, and a dirty white hoodie with random brown stains around the chest and sleeve. Wren moved on from the man's clothes and looked at his face only to feel all the judgment leave their mind as they recognized the man. He didn't seem to see Wren as he moved from the door to sit down at the counter. Wren ripped their earbuds out as they rushed out of the booth and behind the counter. 

“Dante, I've got this one. You take your break.” Wren promptly demanded as they yanked the notepad out of Dante's hand. Dante’s face twisted in anger as he turned to Wren. “The fuck’s your problem? I’m with a customer!” Dante hissed at Wren. Wren moved and stood in front of the man directly as they pointed toward the back of the building. “Go.” They said firmly as Dante glared back at them. “You’re a fucking asshole tonight,” he replied bluntly. He took the towel out of his apron and smacked it onto the counter before turning away to the manager's office. Wren kept their eyes on Dante until he was fully gone before they looked back at the man. “I thought you still had 5 more years, Jeff,” they said coldly. The man stayed silent for a moment before he leaned in and grinned his extended smile. “I got out on good behavior, Wren. I’m a changed man.” Wren couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down their back as they looked at the man's face again; Jeffery Woods, a serial killer, sat before them again. His curly black hair framed his scared face with patches of baldness from his burns and half his face and neck were rough and patchy from burn scars that covered most of his body. That wasn’t the part that unnerved Wren though- in fact, it gave them a bit of sympathy for Jeff- the thing that really unnerved Wren was the fact that Jeff did it to himself, completely of his own volition. The jagged, healed scars of where he had mutilated his face left the corners of his mouth extended to an uncomfortable degree, and the jagged form of his eyelids from him trying to cut them off made his eyes seem unnervingly wide. The jagged and rough skin always made Wren’s skin crawl when they were in prison together, but Jeff wore it with pride like it was a badge of honor. “You got new piercings I see,” they swallowed dryly as they looked down at the notepad in their hands. Jeff's milky blue eyes glimmered with joy, “Oh, you're the first to notice. Yeah, I got them as soon as I got out.” He pulled back his hair and showed off his ears. “How long have you been out, Jeff?” Wren asked bluntly. Jeff stiffened as his smile dropped and he folded his hands on the counter. “Same as you, Wren. And I'm staying with a few friends who are getting me back into the loop of life.” His grin slowly started to come back. Wren glared at Jeff when in the corner of their eye, they spotted Adrian stepping out of the office and heading over to Wren with an angered expression. Wren quickly leaned towards Jeff and hissed at him. “Whatever you’re up to, you do not bring it here, you hear me? These are good people. You stay the fuck away from my coworkers.” They quickly pulled away and turned to Adrian as he stood in front of them with Dante behind him. “I think Dante has it from here. You and I can roll silverware together,” he stated. Dante gently took the notepad and turned their attention to Jeff. “Don’t worry, Wren and I go way back. Just catching up with a friend.” Jeff grinned his extended, crooked grin at Adrian. Wren glared as they walked away, turning their back to Jeff and following Adrian. “Hey Wren,” Jeff called out. Wren turned around expecting an insult. The shout also caught the attention of Tim and Brian, bringing them out of their conversation. “With my new job, I want you to know I'll be seeing a lot of you and your coworkers around. We're all going to be very well acquainted.” He smirked. Wren’s face heated up and they turned away, rushing to the back to stop themself from flying over the counter and strangling Jeff. Brian and Tim’s eyes stayed glued on Wren as they continued to walk away then flickered over to Dante looking for an answer. Dante looked back at the two men and shrugged as he turned his attention to the man in front of him. “Sorry about that. My name's Dante, what can I get started for you tonight?” Dante placed a mug in front of Jeff and held up the coffee pot offering him some. Jeff curtly nodded at the offer as Dante poured him a cup and then slid two small bowls of disposable cream and sugar packets. 

“So how long have you been working here?” Jeff inquired as he brought the cup of black coffee to his lips. Dante pondered as he turned around to make Brian and Tim’s usual orders. “I’ve been working here since I was 16. So about 6 years on the 13th.” Jeff tilted his head as he rested his hand on his chin watching Dante crack eggs with one hand and cook them on the grill. “The 13th, huh? What's so important about that?” Jeff took another sip. Dante shrugs, “That's my birthday. So that's how I remember how long I’ve been working here.” Jeff hummed as he continued to sit and drink his coffee in silence. Dante continued to cook as Baylen stepped out of the office; turning on the radio as they grabbed the plated food from Dante. 

A town curfew has been set in place due to the recent uprising in missing people and murderers. Curfew is set at 9 o’clock at night and will be held till 5 am; lock all doors and windows as well as set up home security. If you see any suspicious behavior in or around your house, hide in a dark room and call the police. The emergency line will be on 24/7 for anything. If you see something, say something.

Dante turned his attention to the radio with a frown and turned up the volume, listening intently. Jeff hummed as he took another sip of coffee, “That's a shame. I have so much to do at night now that I’m out. That’s going to make things harder.” Dante turned around with a confused look at Jeff as Baylen placed down Tim and Brian's plates. Brian's eyes shot up at Baylen as he stared at them for a while. Tim looked up from his plate to Brian's face before turning his attention to Baylen as well. Tim squints for a second before having an undescribed look. The sound of Dante swearing took away Baylen's attention from the men as they watched him leave the counter and move to the back. As he made his way to the back Enzo moved to the front, giving him a weird look as the two crossed paths. Baylen looked back at the men and sighed. “Sorry about that, is there anything else I can get you?” Brian hummed as he looked up to Baylen, studying them for a moment, before cracking a smile. “How about that hangout I’ve been asking for for months? You can’t keep me waiting forever.” Tim turned his attention to Baylen as well. “Yeah, man. Come out and hang with us during the day for once.” Baylen shrugged and rolled his shoulders back as she looked over in the direction Dante had disappeared to. “Maybe later this week. If you need anything just holler. I have to check on my line cook.” Baylen turned around as they walked to the back to look for Dante. Enzo leaned towards Baylen as they walked by, “His necklace just broke, it's nothing life-threatening but he is kinda frazzled tonight.” Baylen sighed. Normally she wouldn’t think twice about her employees' antics but when Dante was ‘frazzled’ it could mean many things. Baylen headed to the back to find their line cook only to see the area empty with the backdoor cracked open.  Slipping through the crack and observing the surroundings, Baylen found Dante with his back to the door, leaning his head back with his hand against his mouth, seemingly swallowing something. Baylen sighed as they stuffed their hands into their pockets and walked up next to Dante. “You a’right?” Baylen asked as she looked down at Dante, a puzzled expression crossing her face. Dante sighed and scratched his neck as he reached down pulling out his second cigarette of the night, “Yeah, just... My necklace broke and it made me realize I forgot to take my meds and T shot. I can take my shot when I get home but I definitely need to take my other stuff now.” Dante hummed as he lit up the cigarette, taking a filthy hit into his lungs. He craned his neck up to stare at the stars covering the night sky. “You're usually so suspicious. Why aren't you freaking out about your necklace?” Baylen crossed his arms over their chest as they kept their eyes on the shorter man. Dante kept his eyes on the sky as he took another drag. He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head over to look at the taller one. “Truth be told, I'm trying more to think logically. I get antsy too easily so I can't let my superstitions get the better of me. I've had this necklace for 6 years from my mama. It was only a matter of time before it broke. Plus she sends me one for every holiday, so I can just wear a new one tomorrow night.” Baylen only nodded and looked at the sky with Dante. They both stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity but was only a few minutes.  

The sound of the back door opening dragged their attention away from the night sky as they turned to see who could have caused the commotion. “Yo,” Wren said bluntly as they stuck their head out of the door. “Brian wants more coffee and I'm on my break.” Dante sighed as they dropped their cigarette to the floor and crushed it with the toe of his boot. He walked to the door and shoved passed Wren. “You've been on your break for the past 2 hours. You're dismissed for the day.” Wren scoffed as they watched Dante walk, turning back to Baylen. “He's not a manager. He can't talk to me like that,” they grunted as Baylen walked past, closing the door behind them. Baylen sighed and blankly looked down at Wren as they voiced their complaints. Wren scowled at Baylen, putting their hands up with attitude as they waited for Baylen to respond. “Hello?! Are you going to say something to him? He can’t talk to me like that.” Wren’s mood soured the longer Baylen sat in silence. Baylen looked down and pinched the bridge of their nose as they took a very grounding deep breath. Baylen’s eyes shifted to Wren’s face, watching as they continued to boil in rage. Baylen looked them up and down one more time. “I don’t have the energy or time for this Wren. You’re dismissed,” They stated, before turning and walking away. Wren scoffed and stomped their feet as they turned toward the coat rack, yanking their jacket off. They swore under their breath and huffed as they turned around one last time, watching Dante as he passed by, coffee pot in hand. Wren swung their hand up with force and proudly gave him the finger. Dante looked over his shoulder, eyeing Baylen, before forcefully smacking the coffee pot down and removing his apron as he made his way to Wren. A wave of fright and adrenaline rushed through Wren's veins as they quickly spun on their heel and rushed out the backdoor to their car. They quickly unlocked their door and hopped in, slamming the door behind them. They looked to the back door of the restaurant, and when they didn’t see a raging Dante burst through to come and key their car, they relaxed and turned the car on. It hummed to life with warm air flowing through the vents. 

Knock knock.

Wren jumped in their seat and whipped their head towards the driver's side door, seeing Jeff standing there with a shit-eating grin. Wren rolled their eyes and rolled their window down a crack to glare up at him. Jeff leaned down and looked at Wren through the crack. “Hey stranger, where you heading off to so soon?” He moved forward, resting his forearm against the top of the driver's side door and resting his head against his fist. Wren rolled their shoulders back as they closed their eyes, attempting to block their vision of Jeff's unnerving eyes. “I'm going home. My shift’s over,” they answered. Jeff hummed and nodded as he moved his head to look at the woods beyond the parking lot. “Well like I said before; with my new job, I'll be around more. Not gonna lie, it's really nice to see you. A familiar face in a new place, ya know?” He shrugged and reverted his gaze back to Wren. “Don’t worry though. I won’t be in your way,” He said as he pushed himself away from the car and slipped his hands into his hoodie pockets. “After all. I’m not here for you.” Before Wren could question what he meant, Jeff had turned on his heels and waved goodbye. “See you ‘round, Wren! Try not to cause any more issues than you already have in your miserable life.” With that, Jeff continued to walk away, out of the parking lot and down the winding road. Wren watched as he was slowly swallowed by the darkness, a stew of emotions enveloping them as they huffed, putting the car in drive. 

Same shit different day.

[xoxoauntscripty]

Hiya! I know you don't work in EMS anymore but I was wondering, do you have any tips for someone hoping to get into the field? I've been interested in emergency response pretty much forever (see: since about six) and I'm now in college and eyeing the EMT course with an ultimate goal of paramedic. Thanks for all you did on ScriptMedic over the years, it's a goldmine for both writers and medically interested peeps! I love clicking through the archives and reading everything, it's such a great resource.

Happy new year!

Hey! I'm going to give you the unsexiest advice you will ever get, but it's all things I wish someone had drilled into my head before I started:

The money will suck. The money will ALWAYS suck. It will probably suck more over time, because I've never ever had raises that kept up with inflation. That may not matter to you now but may matter A LOT down the road. And if that's something you can't live with, choose another path NOW.

Take care of your body. Lift weights. Do push ups. Maintain a healthy weight. Your career length depends on your body.

Never, ever, EVER lift with your back - ALWAYS with your knees. I've seen too many careers end from back injuries.

People will be ASSHOLES to you more often than you can possibly believe, and you will have no recourse but to sit there and take it.

No patient can be as abusive as the system.

EMS is, above all else, a customer service job. That means you will need SO MANY soft skills you probably won't have yet. Diplomacy. Getting along with people who won't shut up about topics you hate. Working with jerks or people who don't care about the job the way you do. Putting up with abuse.

EMS training will make you believe the job is supposed to be about intervening in life and death events. This will make up about 1% of your calls. The other 99% isn't a waste of time but it can feel like it if you lie to yourself that your job is about saving lives. (It's not.)

You won't necessarily be broken by the times you try to help and failed. You WILL be broken by the BS admin in the system. By knowing there's a better way and not being able to behave that way.

Your job is not to fix anything, your job is to try. Set your standards of 'I did better than last time.' Because the chances to make real lasting interventions are VERY rare.

Most of the time the most value you can bring to a situation is kindness and compassion. It's also the first thing you want to abandon when you're tired, exhausted, and overwhelmed. This is the hardest work.

Me, before We, before Them, but only in an emergency.

ABC - Ambulate Before Carry.

Mindset, mindset, mindset. Decide who you want to be and what values you want to live by. Because you can survive mistakes, loss, horror, violence, ANYTHING, and live with yourself after, if you can honestly tell yourself you lived by your value system.

Get comfortable with the idea that you will see more death, disease, and horror than any of your non first responder friends. That means it will be hard to talk about what you see. Don't talk about the WHAT, talk about how it makes you feel - "This call made me feel really sad and helpless", not "We went to this house and did CPR and...". Learn how to transmit your experience without transmitting details that keep people trying to understand rather than listening to your experience.

Make a point to seek out and celebrate the good. "Today I was nice to someone who no one has been kind to in a while." "Today I got to help a mom who was really worried about coming home to her kids." "I got to help people sleep easier knowing someone like me was out there for them." Because the negative stories - abuse and hate and neglect and sorrow and loss and pain and fear and just plain exhaustion - those stories are POWERFUL. Counter them on purpose.

If you're hoping helping enough people will make you feel like a Good Worthwhile Person.... It won't. That's one of the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn. Liking yourself doesn't depend solely on doing good things.

Learn something from every call, even if it's something tiny.

Ask old people about their lives when you can. They're fascinating, and usually pretty neglected.

Ask happy married people how to make it work. They love it and you'll love them for it.

Fall in love with your patients, just a little bit.

Your coworkers will fall into 3 categories: naive, burned-out, and burned-in. Aim to be the last, and be VERY careful what you learn from the other 2 groups.

You can learn as much from a partner you can't stand as you can from one you love. Learn who you want to be, AND who you don't.

Learn motivational interviewing. Your job will be SO MUCH EASIER.

Get a shrink BEFORE you start, and ignore anyone who thinks you "shouldn't need help" coping with what you'll see and experience. Seriously. Your mental health matters even more than your physical health.

That's about all I can think of.

I can't in good conscience recommend EMS as a career, but don't let that stop you from following your heart and your dreams.

And if nothing else, you will learn SO MUCH about groups other people ignore - the sick, the elderly, the disabled, the homeless, the lonely. Listen to them. Learn from them. Be with them.

Good luck.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

[gradsireninc]

How To Get A Job Without Experience (With 6 Career Options)

Are you wondering if you can get a job without any technical or professional experience?

Getting a job without any prior work experience can seem daunting. But it's not impossible! You can convince employers to take a chance on you with the right strategy and perseverance. This article will take you to some effective ways to land a job without experience. You'll get to know six career opportunities that don't require any experience or minimal expertise.

Let's dive in.

Effective Ways To Land A Job Without Experience

Here are some effective ways to help you make a strong case to potential employers and open doors to intriguing prospects. You can utilize these ways whether you're a recent graduate, switching to a different sector, or simply trying to start over.

Leverage Your Education

Highlight your academic credentials, especially if you have a degree that relates to the field or role you're pursuing. Coursework, projects, internships, leadership activities, and any honors or awards show your capabilities.

For example, if you majored in marketing, emphasize any analysis or campaigns you did for class. Or, if you're applying for a software engineering role, describe coding projects and hackathons you participated in.

Be prepared to talk intelligently about what you studied and how it prepares you for the job's responsibilities.

Showcase Transferable Skills

The fact that you don't have direct experience in a particular job doesn't mean you don't have relevant skills. The key is identifying abilities from other areas of life that translate.

For instance, if you're trying to get a retail job, customer service skills from past restaurant work are highly applicable. For an office manager role, administrative skills from coordinating student group events would be valuable. Make a master list of all your strongest soft and hard skills. Then, customize it for each job by picking 3-5 that fit the role.

Highlight Volunteer Experience

Any volunteer work can help fill in experience gaps on your resume. Nonprofit, community, religious, or other voluntary activities demonstrate responsibility, teamwork, dedication and other qualities employers seek.

Just be sure to frame your accomplishments from a professional standpoint. For example, "raised over $5,000 in donations" is better than "participated in a charity fundraiser".

Complete Internships

Internships are like work experience training wheels. They give you professional skills and knowledge and let you start building a network.

There are abundant internship opportunities, paid and unpaid, that don't strictly require you to already have experience. Look for openings at small or mid-sized companies that may be more flexible.

Successful interns are often converted to full-time hires post-graduation. Even if that doesn't happen, it's still incredible resume fodder.

Showcase Related Side Hustles

Freelancing, consulting, business ventures, etc., demonstrate you have initiative, can generate income, and pick up new skills quickly. Even informal side work like tutoring, web design, or selling crafts has merit.

For example, if you're seeking a full-time marketing position, tout the social media management or influencer marketing services you offer. Anything where you actively had to market yourself and acquire clients is impressive.

Just make sure you can back up any claimed skills if probed in interviews.

Ace the Interview

At the interview stage, how you present yourself matters more than a thin resume. Confidence, professionalism, problem-solving skills, bona fide interest in the company and quick learning ability can all override experience gaps.

Come equipped with thoughtful questions, ideas and visions for how you'd tackle the role. When asked about experience gaps, pivot to your assets.

For instance, "While I don't yet have full-time social media management experience, I learned XYZ skills managing the Instagram account for my college basketball team, which helped increase engagement by 30%."

Sell how you can provide unique value. With preparation and passion, you can make employers believe in your potential.

The key is convincing hiring managers you have the right foundation and can excel on the job. With resilience and utilizing these tactics, you can transition successfully into a new career without directly relevant experience.

Just highlight your transferable abilities, be willing to start at entry level and work hard to prove yourself. The rest will fall into place.

6 Career Opportunities Options You Can Pursue Without Having Any Prior Experience

Entry-Level Customer Service Representative: Customer service roles like call center reps or customer support specialists rarely require previous experience. You'll learn on the job how to interact with customers, troubleshoot issues, and provide excellent service.

Administrative Assistant: Many administrative or secretarial positions are open to those just starting. Your duties may include answering phones, scheduling, filing, data entry and supporting office operations.

Sales Associate/Retail Worker: Retail companies are often willing to hire people without experience for roles like cashier, sales floor associate, stocker, etc. These jobs provide lots of customer interaction.

Teacher's Aide/Assistant: Schools, daycares, and learning centers need paraprofessionals to support teachers in the classroom. No prior experience is necessary beyond a high school diploma.

Delivery Driver: Pizza chains, UPS, Instacart and other delivery companies need drivers to transport packages, food orders or other items. A clean driving record is generally the only major requirement.

Entry-Level Hospitality & Tourism: Hotels, restaurants, parks, and other hospitality providers have many basic operational jobs like a housekeeper, dishwashers, ride attendants, tour guides, etc. These allow you to start in the industry.

The key is being willing to apply for junior roles, learn on the go, provide great customer service, and work your way up the ladder. You can build a career even without direct experience with motivation and persistence. You can also ask for assistance from platforms like GradSiren that offer you entry level jobs. They allow you to find fresher jobs as per your interests and skills.

Conclusion

It is possible to find employment without experience. Put a focus on your education, practical experience, volunteering, internships, and relevant side businesses. Gain confidence and problem-solving skills during interviews.

Take a look at entry-level jobs in administration, retail, education, delivery, or hospitality. You can begin your job adventure and rise through the ranks if you are determined and open to learning. Remember that everyone starts off somewhere, and your potential can emerge with persistence.