Three for One 2
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As a customer service associate, youโre used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than whatโs on the shelf.
Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale
Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. Iโm trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I havenโt forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. ๐
You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.
In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.
Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.
A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!
You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.
"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"
His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"
You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."
"I came in last week," he says.
You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."
"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.
"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."
"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."
"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"
He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."
He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"
"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."
"Is that what you wear?" He asks.
"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.
"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."
He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.
"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."
"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."
"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.
"How do you know?" You say.
"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."
"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"
"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."
"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."
"Charlie Brown," he repeats.
"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."
"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."
"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."
"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."
You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.
"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."
"Well, he was nice," you say.
"Kinda cute, too," she intones.
"He was shopping for his wife."
"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."
"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."
"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.
"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.โ
๐
Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.
You yawn at the empty fragrance section as itโs only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.
โWe need a body at returns,โ Lucille cuts through the chatter. โNow.โ
No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.
You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns.ย
โI can help the next person,โ you call and wave your hand in the air.
You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.
โHello, sir,โ you bat your lashes, โhow are you today?โ
โNot fucking well,โ the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? โItโs a piece of shit.โ
โOh, okay,โ you look down at the trimmer and examine it, โyouโd like to do a return?โ
โYes, Iโd like to do a return,โ he snaps, โare you dim?โ
โOf course, sir,โ you punch in your ID and passcode, โIโll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?โ
โA receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.โ
โAh, alright, when did you buy it?โ
โYou donโt remember, little trigger finger,โ he sneers.
โWhat do you mean?โ
โPfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?โ
โUm, no?โ Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as youโre hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. โDid you have the card you purchased this with?โ
โYou donโt think I have money?โ
Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You donโt know what to say that wonโt agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.
He flicks a black card onto the counter, โput it back on this.โ
You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, โbet you never seen one of those up close.โ
โSir,โ you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.
You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, โwhatโs your name, sir?โ
โLloyd,โ he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, โHansen.โ He finishes sharply, โwith an E, got it?โ
โYes, sir, and the reason for return?โ
He rolls his eyes, โit doesnโt fucking work.โ
โAlright. So it doesnโt cut the hair orโโ
โIt wonโt turn on,โ he growls.
โRight,โ you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. Itโs empty, โand you had double As in it?โ
โDouble As?โ He repeats.
โIt needs batteries, sir.โ
He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.
โYou think Iโm stupid? That I donโt fucking know that? Youโre not getting free fucking batteries from me.โ
โOf course, sir, of course,โ you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, โIโll get you your money back on a gift cardโโ
โGift card? I want my money,โ he holds up his card between two fingers.
โYes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside whileโโ
โWhat? How would I know that?โ He hisses.
โIt says on the receipt, sir.โ
โI donโt have the goddamn receipt,โ he barks.
โI know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I canโt override the option.โ
โI want a manager. NOW!โ He demands as you jump in your shoes.
โIโฆ Iโll see if sheโs availโโ
Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.
โSir, is there something I can help with? Iโm the manager,โ she says.
โI want my money,โ he echoes once more. โI bought a defective product and I donโt want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.โ
โOh, certainly sir,โ she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, โright back on that black card, right?โ
She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.
โYes, exactly,โ he snorts, โnot like I donโt have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.โ
You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.
Your eyes meet that manโs and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. Itโs fine, you wonโt let him ruin your day. Heโs already ruined his own getting so worked up.
๐
Itโs another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You canโt mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. Youโre only a week from Christmas.
You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.
โHello, sir,โ you croon, โhow are you today?โ
โHere for a pickup,โ he ignores your question.
โRight, can I get a name?โ
โWhy?โ He challenges.
โForโฆ for the package,โ you sputter.
โOh, uh, Drysdale,โ he sniffs.
โI saw that earlier. Iโm the one who called,โ you brighten up.
โSo youโre the annoying songbird,โ he grabs his drink again, โtook you fucking long enough. Lineโs a mile long.โ
โItโs very busy, yes. Everyoneโs catching up on their Christmas shopping,โ you bounce, โare you almost done yours?โ
โYeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.โ
You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.
โRight here,โ you announce, โI have good news, too.โ
โTell me youโre gonna stop yammering,โ he snickers.
โUm, no, the uhโฆ the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.โ
โWhy would you do that?โ He asks.
โEr, becauseโฆ itโs policy?โ
โYou think I canโt afford it?โ
โN-no, I didnโt sayโโ
โLook, I donโt need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,โ he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.
โItโs a very nice scarf,โ you agree.
He narrows his eyes, โyouโre mocking me.โ
You shake your head, โno, sir, I like the coloursโโ
โGive my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, โand a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you wonโt have half the city waiting to get their shit.โ
โThanks,โ you swallow down his anger. โHave a great day, sir.โ
He doesnโt reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. Itโs too late to call him back. Youโll just put it aside, youโre sure heโll come back for it.
You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, โhello, how are you?โ
โGood,โ the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, โsome peopleโฆโ she tuts, โdonโt let the grinches get to you, honey.โ
โThanks,โ you feel the ice melt away, โI wonโt.โ
โAdorable cardigan,โ she adds, โI really love the collar.โ
โOh, thank you,โ you trill, โis this everything for today?โ You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.
โThat will be it. And Iโd love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.โ
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โฐ fluff (cute moments, kisses, cuddling, dates, etc.)
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โฐ smut {smut is only written as part of a storyline, I do not write porn without a plot. here are some things I'm comfortable with writing: consensual sex, oral sex, handjobs, fingering, p in v, breeding, dom/sub, alpha/omega, voyeurism, exhibitionism, orgasm control, cockwarming.}
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โฐ reader's insert exceptions {these reader inserts I am choosing not to write simple because I do not know what it's like to be in their shoes + I would not be able to do them justice; trans!reader, gn!reader, male!reader.}
๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐:
โฐ reader inserts only {there are very few characters that I will write together that are not reader inserts. some examples are: mike ross x harvey specter + jj maybank x rafe cameron, sarah cameron x john b. these reader inserts are strictly fem!reader, plus size friendly.}
โฐ requests not related to current series or projects will be answered in the form of blurbs + one-shots.
โฐ fluff (cute moments, kisses, cuddling, dates, etc.)
โฐ angst {h/c, injuries, anxiety, etc.}
โฐ smut {smut is only written as part of a storyline, I do not write porn without a plot. here are some things I'm comfortable with writing: consensual sex, oral sex, handjobs, fingering, p in v, breeding, dom/sub, alpha/omega, voyeurism, exhibitionism, orgasm control, cockwarming.}
๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐๐๐:
โฐ sensitive topics {infertility, abortion, physical/mental/sexual abuse, mental health issues, self harm, etc.}
โฐ smut {ddlg, foot play, age play, age regression, non-con, dub-con, rape, rape play, sadism/masochism, race play, bondage, incest, pedophilia, sweat play, etc.}
โฐ reader's insert exceptions {these reader inserts I am choosing not to write simple because I do not know what it's like to be in their shoes + I would not be able to do them justice; trans!reader, gn!reader, male!reader.}
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