#there are plenty of other factory jobs that are always hiring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cornflakegetmilking · 1 year

Text

Bittersweet Cravings

Warning: this fic contains possesion, alot of killing, oh also some saucy moments

Also this is a Jack x Sona fic plz don't shame me XD

Sauce Warning - Sauceless

Chapter 1: Importance Vs Desire

It was like any other day, the disturbing aura of the factory releasing heavy smoke in the middle of what seemed to be a lake or an ocean. It was running well like it always did with bakers of plenty running around doing their best to be quick but also precise with their job as any little imperfections could make their boss enraged. Ever since the incident of wishing star plenty have assumed on his death, however it wasn't the case, his return even struck fear onto others and made them more sure not to mess with the big man himself.

However after his journey it was clear he didn't have alot of bakers nor magic trinkets left in his factory, not like that was gonna stop him from anything. It was a mircale his factory even got any people to come and get hired from, maybe it was the good pay, maybe it was the bragging rights or maybe it was a death wish. That being said he had a small line forming in his trophy room which had a few new magical items in store, some say the trophy room was a way of intimidation and if it was it worked well.

"Little to no experience in baking and yet you thought you could just let your idiotic self step into MY factory?!" The large man yelled in frustration at the much smaller man before him. The man only shook in fear where he stood before trying to speak bravely.

"I-i just thought since you needed new bakers you would-" He wasn't even given time to finish his sentence as he was cut off immediately.

"I-i just thought-" Jack said mockingly before looking at him with frustration. "You think just because i need new bakers i would be DESPERATE enough to accept low lives like you?!"

He snarled before getting up from his seat and picking up the man effortlessly by his collar and throwing him out the room. He could've sworn he heard a few bones breaking, not like he could care.

"Take this man away! He's utterly useless to me!" He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and his middle finger as if he was starting to get a headache.

Not too far was a different person just outside the gates of the factory. Their hair was black with a few bronze highlights, eyes dark brown almost like the color of coffee. They stood there observing the large gate in front of them intimidated by the aura the factory gave. They swallowed the lump in their throat before looking down at the resume in their hands, they had been from bakery to bakery in their past but only for them to eventually resign. Why? Well it was because the owners of the bakeries never paid them well despite their full efforts. They sighed trying to gain the courage to open the gate only to stop as soon as the man from before came out limping making them once again intimidated.

"Maybe i should just go back to being underpaid..." they said to themselves as they started to turn around only to be called by a guard making them cringe a bit.

"Hey. What are you here for?" The guard asked looking at them with a stern expression.

There was no way they could back out now. Well there was but their anxiety wasn't letting them. They took a deep breathe trying to gain the courage to speak up.

"I'm here to see Jack Horner for a job interview..."

The guard only stared at them for a while as if in disbelief but nodded and opened the gate for them. Finally they stepped in and started walking past the big door into the factory and now walking to the trophy room, with each step their body grew heavier and heavier. Inside their body was screaming for them to turn back while they could. But before you knew it they were knocking on the very doors to the trophy room. NOW there was no turning back.

"Oh what is it now?!" He yelled through the door clearly annoyed.

They frowned in fear by the tone of their voice.

"Im here for the Job interview Mr. Horner Sir!" They managed to say only to hear a groan in return.

"Another one of you idiots huh? Fine come in! You can't be worse than the previous one or else this time im throwing you out my window!" He sat on his chair as if he had his expectations low.

They could feel chills crawl down their spine as they touched on the door to push open. Their eyes couldnt help but linger around the room scanning on each trinket that laid on the shelves neatly, each of them dusted and/or polished at least he seemed to take care of his valuables. Finally their eyes looked forward now seeing how massive he actually was in person compared to their rather small body. They stood there absolutely nervous on failing the interview but also terrified that this is how they could die.

"Make it quick i don't have all day!" He puts his hand out as if asking for their resume.

They only nodded and handed over the piece of paper but not without taking a quick glance of their purple stained thumb, they'd be lying if they said it wasn't kind of cute. Jack glared at them before looking into their resume.

"Mutliple bakeries huh? What you thought those were too good for you?" He scoffed.

"No sir i just wanted more pay..." They decided to answer straight and quick as an attempt not to waste his time.

Which seemed to have amused him a bit as his face had softened a bit.

"Okay then tell me what makes you think I'll hire you so easily?" He stood up and walked towards them as if it was an attempt to intimidate them.

However for them it was less intimidating but more intriguing. They could feel their face heat up as they watched them tower over them.

"I have alot of experience with baking sir. If my resume isnt enough proof i am more than happy to prove myself physically." They seemed brave on the outside but inside they were screaming in absolute agony.

They knew if they were too brave they'll fuck up, but if they showed too much intimidation they'll also fuck up. Since if they showed too much bravery he would think they were cocky, but if they showed that they were overly intimidated he would think they were too pathetic for the job.

"Prove me huh? And what exactly should i do if you prove yourself to be useless like the rest of those who have failed to impress me?" He grinned as he kept looking down at them.

A small grin, that had to be a good sign right? There was no way they could screw this up now, not when it seemed like the opportunity was so close in their reach. They just had to grab it.

"I can handle whatever punishment i deserve for my mistakes sir..." They hoped that was what he wanted to hear.

Jack looked at them up and down before walking back to his desk to pull out a uniform from one of the drawer, placing the garments on the desk and sliding it forward.

"You're the least pathetic one out of the rest who decided to come in here... you start tomorrow. If the uniform doesnt fit make it fit i don't care!" He let out a small laugh before sitting down.

They perked in surprise and tried to hold in their excitement they immediately walked over to take the uniform while nodding in appreciation.

"Yes sir! Of course sir! I promise i won't dissapoint you!" They tried to hold in their smile.

"Yeah yeah! Just dont be late!" He glared at them only to notice their ears twitching in an odd manner making him slightly confused.

They only nodded again before walking out the door. Jack looked at the door still a bit confused by the ears movement but shrugged it off before looking back at the resume to read what their name was.

"Flakes huh? Well isn't that a stupid name!" He shook his head laughing before tossing the piece of paper aside.

Flakes walked home rather happy with themself, their heart still pounding from the adrenaline. They skipped home and set their uniform aside before letting out a tired sigh. The interview was enough to stress them out, the intimidation Jack gave with his big body, the terrifying glares, and the tone of his voice... and yet despite the intimidation they couldn't help but feeling something else there when they looked at him... They needed to let loose. With one more deep breathe they shook their body as they slowly transformed into an unidentifiable creature, fur in many places, large paws and feet with strange claws, fluffy ears and a fluffy tail to match with all that fur. They stretched their body a bit before laying on their couch. They had been a shapeshifter in disguise for as long as they could remember, ever since people started fearing their species and killing them. Unfortunately because of this they had been become much harder to find. Luckily for them it wasnt uncomfortable to shape shift and stay in a specific form for so long. That being said it didn't mean they dont miss their real form, they were soft and warm like this after all. Tomorrow was a big day so they needed all the rest they could get now, with that their eyes slowly drifted to sleep.

The next day finally arrived and Flakes was awaken at 6am by their instincts. It was rare for them to wake up late and today was no exception and luckily that was a good thing. They stretched their body before shaking their body to turn back into their human form before getting up to the kitchen to make quick breakfast. Bacon, egg and toast seemed good enough, it was quick to prep too. There honestly was no rush honestly since it was still awfully early in the morning they just wanted to make a good impression.

They took a shower once they finished eating and once they were out they put on the uniform they left on the table. Surprisingly it was a perfect fit, maybe a tad bit loose on the sleeves but it was almost perfect. They smiled admiring the uniform only now noticing how well made it actually was, they half expected it to be made of cheap fabric since Jack was the one giving them. But maybe the good quality uniform is a way of showing his position or maybe just so his bakers were a little bit comfortable? Who knows really. With one last glance they turned to their door and finally head out to the factory. Their heart was racing but unlike yesterday this time it didn't bother them too much. All they had to do was do a good job, it was clear from yesterday that Jack was pleased when you didn't waste his time and let him do most the talking. They sighed and finally reached the gates and to their surprise the guards let them in even in such an early time. They walked into the factory and clocked in, a part of them was curious if Jack was in the trophy room. But there was no way they should go check, they didnt have that much privilege to do so anyways. They looked around the factory to get used to their new surroundings, it was no surprise how everything was well sorted, from a pantry full of dry ingredients and another full of wet ingredients, a large fridge probably for cooling down the pie crust before putting any filling in them. They then looked at the open work tables and seeing a piece of paper they decides walk over to investigate. It was the Jack Horner pie recipe, guess he couldn't be bothered to hand it over himself. They only sighed and shrugged before finally starting their work. It wasn't hard to follow the recipe as it wasn't their first time making pies, hell it wasn't even their 10th, they were so focused on their work they didn't notice the eyes watching them work. Jack had stood there for a while observing them, and he didn't want to admit it but their work so far was actually pretty good, it showed that they did have experience with this sort of stuff. It wasn't long til he realized they haven't noticed him standing in front of them, which he didn't like one bit so they let out a cough to make their presence unnoticed. This however startled Flakes a bit causing them to jump, luckily they didn't drop their finished pie.

"O-oh Mr. Horner sir! I didn't notice you there!" They smiled nervously.

"I noticed..." He glared at them before looking down at the pie checking the crust, before putting his thumb out to stick into the pie and pull out a plum to taste.

Flakes couldnt help but watch in anticipation, their eyes gazing onto their large hands and thick fingers, his large figure to match his large ego, and as they watched him eat the plum out his thumb they couldn't help but go red. They were no longer watching in anticipation but now watching in what felt like desire.

"Chitter chitter!" They covered their mouth shutting themself up and holding in a mating call.

Luckily Jack didnt seem to notice.

"Hm... i must say it is in fact delicious. But don't be too flattered of yourself. It's still my family recipe... but you did a good job following it to a tea. Just keep it up and yada yada yada!" He scoffed unbothered to continue the sentence before walking off to his trophy room.

Flakes stood there with there with their face still red. They let out a sigh in relief before putting the ruined pie away.

"Can't believe i wanted to let out a mating call!" They facepalmed in humiliation before going back to work.

They couldnt afford to have any interests with anyone right now, it was important they focus on their career and safety first. But hopefully that was a one time thing and nothing more will happen between them. They're just a baker now working for their boss and nothing more... right?

To Be Continued

#jack horner #jack horner x oc

4 notes · View notes

dubaiisrising-blog · 6 months

Text

Best CV Writers in Dubai, UAE

Your CV is the secret weapon for successful job search in UAE.

We Find Jobs is not just another ordinary CV / resume writing service in UAE. Our executive branding specialists work exclusively with senior business leaders like you to uncover and communicate what makes your career story unique and valuable in the modern competitive UAE job market. Our bespoke professional CV / resume writing service has helped over 1,000 senior business leaders – in Dubai and UAE – secure interviews, obtain formidable salary increases, get promoted to bigger positions and land more fulfilling job roles.

A typical CV / resume – even one that’s written by a professional CV / resume writer – is rarely more than a flyer that contains surface-level aspects of your career. Your qualifications. Your tenure. Your achievements. A shot at articulating your value and communicating your career story. While these resume features are important, they fail to position you as a superior candidate – especially at the senior leadership level. We are not a resume factory with a shopping bag of pre-written resumes and CVs. We’re a potent team of high calibre talent to have on your side when big opportunities are on the line and you need your brand to look and feel 100% right. We aren’t a CV / resume writing service in UAE like others. There are plenty of those on the market. We’re different because we’re the only company in UAE that can elicit your unique point of difference in the market and communicate it via your resume and your online assets. The world of job search is changing at a rapid rate due to disruption by digital technology. We are acutely aware of the latest trends in today’s job market from a hiring perspective and that’s why we always stay up to date. We have very high standards, and so do our clients. Whether you’re a fresh graduate, mid-career or a top executive, our clients come from every industry like you. Join thousands of successful job seekers at UAE’s top professional CV / resume writing service. Get a world class CV / resume written by the industry experts.

With a decade of UAE experience providing expert CV / Resume Services to job seekers of all career levels, we are offering you the best resume writing experience possible. Whether you’re a Fortune 500 Executive or a recently graduated student, our expert writers will ensure that you get your foot in the door and book that crucial interview. We pride ourselves as being an honest company not looking to make a quick buck with extraneous add-ons and extra fees. We offer you the total package at a reasonable price. No gimmicks and no extra costs. Our mission is to inspire and professionally guide clients in achieving their career goals. We understand the roadblocks faced by job applicants and hiring managers in UAE, because we’ve been on both sides of the hiring spectrum; we know what organizations in UAE are looking for in prospective employees. We’ve helped clients from 60+ different industries and varying career stages: recent graduates, mid-career, management and C-level / Executive level professionals.

Does your CV / resume not only look great in front of the eyes of a hiring manager, but also in front of the eyes of a computer? In competitive employment environment of UAE, hiring managers can get overwhelmed with resumes from potential candidates. Having your CV lost, among the hundreds of submissions, is highly likely and quite frustrating. By taking advantage of our expert professional resume writing services, you'll receive that customized resume for UAE job market, bringing you one step closer to that job you desire. With a professionally crafted CV / resume in your arsenal, you not only win more interviews faster, you’ll be a stronger and more confident candidate. More interviews mean more practice, less pressure, and a better chance to land your ideal job. If you’re in the UAE job market for new employment, we cannot overemphasize the difference a professional CV / resume writer can make to your career. When your writer knows how to conduct a revealing interview, asks the probing questions, and digs deep beneath the surface of your job history, you'll get a powerfully persuasive CV / resume that quickly opens the doors to new opportunities and careers.

0 notes

dubaimovies · 6 months

Text

UAE's Best CV Writers

Your CV is the secret weapon for successful job search in UAE.

0 notes

dubaiuaeevents-blog · 6 months

Text

Best CV Writing in Abu Dhabi, UAE

Your CV is the secret weapon for successful job search in UAE.

0 notes

wefindjobsuae · 6 months

Text

Best-Rated CV Writing in Dubai, UAE

Your CV is the secret weapon for successful job search in UAE.

0 notes

topwebdesigndubai · 6 months

Text

Best CV Writing in Dubai

Your CV is the secret weapon for successful job search in UAE.

0 notes

moxfirefly · 2 years

Note

Omfg... So many good prompts for Heisy...

Can I get a #7 and a #14. Extra sauce.

You know I most certainly can friend 🖤

“Well, ladies first,” “Fuck you,”

“God, why did we ever pretend to hate each other?”

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

He always had the worst manners. Compared to his sister, Karl simply must’ve missed out on those basic lessons to just not be crass and crude. You could understand the animosity Alcina held for him.

Regardless of your job was to simply serve. Alcina required her usual wine and Karl had requested the usual bourbon, extra shot and no ice. As You entered into the meeting, this time being held in one of the lavished rooms Alcina hardly used, you set about delivering the drinks.

As Mother Miranda spoke and Alcina glared her daggers at her brother, you reached said man and handed him his drink. He eyed the glass you held towards him from above his sunglasses. “That smells suspiciously of whiskey” He stated rather flatly. You looked at the brown liquid and quirked an eyebrow. “Pardon me my lord but I do believe this is bourbon” Your tone was trained elegance and courteous.

The corner of Karl’s mouth simply lifted.

Oh, great.

Today he wanted to pick on you.

You wanted to sigh but merely swallowed and once again offered. “My lord perhaps the bottles got mixed up, but I do believe this is bourbon”

Karl stood up, glass in hand and you wanted to crawl into the nearest hole.

“Mother Miranda, do excuse me. It seems my dear sister can’t hire somebody with a sense of smell or eyesight for that matter” He strolled past you and you didn’t dare look up towards Miranda who had simply waved him off and told him to hurry.

“Come here girl, lemme show you how to properly differentiate” The arrogant tone of his resonated off the castle walls, the rest of the staff eyed you as Karl les you to the kitchen area where you had just been.

He nudged open the door with his hip and did little in the ways of holding it open for you.

Once inside he downed the glass with a small hiss and turned to grin at you.

“Must you always make a spectacle?” You sighed, arma crossing and Karl quietly chuckled.

“C’mere doll, gotta make it convincing after all” He pulled you in close and kissed you wantonly. You did little to hesitate in wrapping your arms around him.

This somewhat albeit scandalous affair began months ago. You’d often finished your shift at the castle and wandered into the factory to see him.

But on occasions such as tonight when meetings were held within the castle, well he couldn’t help himself to get you alone for a few minutes.

As the kiss deepened and those skillful hands began to hike up your skirts you pulled away enough to whisper to him. “There isn’t enough time, the meeting is still going on” His hand cupones your mound, the warmth alone making him growl deep within his chest.

“No, there isn’t time for all I want to do, but for you? Plenty of fucking time” He spun you around his arms, skirt bunched up in one arm he secured around your waist.

You were facing the door.

You gulped.

“Now what exactly would happen if one of those maids walked in? Or the groundskeepers?” His free hand went to your lip. A gloved digit found itself between your lips. “Be a doll will you?” You bit down enough to free his hand of the leather.

His question buzzed inside of your head, the sheer fear alone had you quite shaky. If that were to happen it wouldn’t paint well for your future employment, maybe even your life. Karl’s hand slid inside your undergarment, spreading you open and making your knees buckle.

“I believe I asked a question, yes?” His finger circled your clit, the slow movements made your eyes roll back in pleasure.

What was the question again?

He rubbed a little harder, just a little more to drive his point further.

“I-I’d end up… in the dungeons probably” Which was quite plausible. Your eyes remained on the door, willing it to remain shut regardless of the sounds of steps to and fro by the rest of the staff. “Be a shame to lose such a pretty cunt” He drove his point even more by pushing a digit inside. That caused you to bite down on your lower lip.

Soon enough you felt another digit inside and the lewd sounds of just how wet you had become. The scruff of his cheek tickled your neck as you drove your bottom back into his groin causing him to hiss.

“Going to cum in your trousers again, are you?” You grinned, feeling how hard he was.

“Well, ladies first” He bit the back of your neck.

“Fuck you” You hissed between clenched teeth, his fingers diving in and out faster.

“Later doll, later I’ll bend you over, give you a proper lay. Now be a good girl and cum for me” He postponed his digits at just the right angle, and covered your mouth with a hand as your climax hit. It took more of him holding you upright as to not slip. A few taps to your oversensitive nub earned him an elbow to his side. “Absolute beast” You huffed out and his muffled a laugh against your neck.

“To think you ‘hated’ me once upon a time” He popped his fingers into his mouth, making you blush.

“God, why did we ever pretend to hate each other?” You asked whilst trying to fix your uniform. Karl shrugged, freeing his fingers with an obscene pop.

“Probably because we couldn’t stop eye fucking each other from day one you started working here” He smirked as you playfully nudged him.

“Go before they start asking questions” You rolled your eyes when he smacked your rear on his way out.

#ask #imthegreenfairy88 #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #re8 #re village #enemies to lovers prompt

290 notes · View notes

roach-works · 4 years

Note

hey roach! i've gained a bit of an interest in welding due to your tales. do you know much about how a cis girl might fare in that kind of industry? physically and socially?

i don’t know much, unfortunately: i’ve only had three years’ experience in one factory, and that’s as a (closeted) trans man. there are maybe a dozen welders at my factory and i think at the moment there’s only one woman, in another department. from what i’ve heard, the issue is that there just aren’t very many women welders at all. there’s some dismissive ‘women who aren’t super nice to men are mean old bitches’ attitude from the men on the floor that i’ve seen, but i’ve seen that same attitude from men in retail, too.

at one point a woman and a man were being trained as welders from another department and the woman wasn’t kept on because of her ‘attitude’, which is usually a big red sexist flag. but actually i was there for the whole process and it wasn’t an issue of gender bias, it was an issue of she was lazy and rude and spent most of the time she should have been practicing hanging around with other women from her prior department and chatting. the man was much more polite and hardworking and spent the entire training week in his booth practicing hard, so he got the promotion. it was, actually, pretty fair.

as something to also consider, i was hired when i was still legally female and HR knew they were getting a trans man who very much needed for his coworkers not to know i wasn’t cis, and i gotta say, as much as i’ve bitched about the shitty management of my factory, HR has always had my back. they used my chosen name and pronouns the entire time, and switched my paperwork over for me immediately when i told them to once i was legally male. as far as i know, no one i haven’t personally told i was trans has ever known before i told them.

that being said, basically every man who’s ever looked at me has visibly and verbally concluded that i’m very homosexual, and they still treat me fine. and this is in indiana, a fairly conservative area. i’ve only had a problem with maybe one coworker in all three years.

back to the woman thing, there are a lot of women at my factory. not half, sadly, but maybe a third. they install furniture, they do wiring, they haul stuff around, just the same as the men, they’re not just secretaries. while it’s always harder for women to get into male-dominated fields, it’s still worth the effort, because male-dominated fields pay better than female ones. the women who work them seem to have to be a bit tough, a bit aggressive, and get a thick enough skin to keep up with a bunch of men who aren’t exactly malicious, and who often mean well and want to get along with women coworkers... but are definitely not enlightened feminist allies. but also there’s still plenty of sexism going on in office jobs and retail, so. there’s that.

anyway, there definitely needs to be women welders, and all the managers and hirers i’ve ever talked to have always said that they do want to hire more women. there just aren’t enough applicants, they say. maybe it’s a lie, but it’s still worth testing.

also, as much as i complain about the physical strain and the exhaustion, it feels so good to spend my day on my own doing simple, constructive labor with absolutely no customer interaction whatsoever. i am never, ever, EVER going back to retail.

ETA: as for the physical requirement you need to be able to lift (at least) fifty pounds and i was able to build that muscle pretty much before the T kicked in, and i was 5′4″ and maybe 115lb. women can absolutely get fit enough to keep up with men in blue collar jobs, don’t let anyone tell you that’ll be a problem.

#women can get buff as hell!#don't worry #women in trades

246 notes · View notes

happyorsadmultimuse · 2 years

Text

drabble for @shelbysdevil

Lizzie wasn’t sure what time it was. The only sounds in the house were the sound of her typewriter, the factories in the distance and who she guessed were Arthur snoring in the upstairs. It was far from the first time she couldn’t sleep. Looking at the stack of papers next to her that needed typing up was large enough to keep her occupied. Having lit the fire in the kitchen and opened the doors to the shop she sat in only her nightclothes as she continued typing. Tommy had told her to stop working when she found out they were expecting their first child, but she didn’t stop. As of now she had gotten so used to working a normal job that she didn’t want to stop now.

In honesty, it was the baby that kept her up. Her rounded stomach was now so large she could barely fit the nightgown over it. The baby had been awake most of the night moving around and kicking her in her ribs. It made it impossible to sleep. Resting her hand on her stomach for a moment she couldn’t complain, the only thing she wanted was a healthy child. A little bit of her and a little bit of Tommy.

It was of course Polly who noticed she was expecting before she even knew. With the amount of work, she hasn’t noticed she had missed her course. It took her by surprise, she knew eventually it would happen but it did sooner than she had expected. Placing the sheet of paper on the table she got a fresh one to type up the next letter. Of course, Tommy could do this himself, he could even hire a new secretary if he wanted to. Not being able to sleep was a good excuse to get some work done. Her husband had done it plenty of times. More than once had she found him in his office in the middle of the night.

Feeling her neck go stiff and her shoulders aching she needed a break. This was new to her. Before she could carry on for ages before getting tired. Now? Half an hour and it was time for a break. Leaning back on her chair, she lit a cigarette looking at the scoreboard on the wall. Resting her hand on her stomach she knew that once their child arrived she had to stop. She would have plenty to deal with, her typewriter would have to sit cold. Perhaps he’d let the next secretary use it? He had bought it for her after all. Lizzie knew she was being paranoid when she was worried he’d hire someone new, someone better, someone who would take her place. That nice girl she always said he should have. Someone who wasn't her. That she would become one of the women who glared at her when she walked down the street.

Those who knew their husband would come to see her. Looking at the gold band around her finger in the light of the desk lamp a smile spread on her face. She could still see him in front of her when he said I do. She had gotten a new dress, had flowers in her hair, only two of her sisters from her side came. Their wedding night didn’t feel too special they had been together plenty of times before. More than she could count. Him having called her Mrs Shelby for the first time. For her it was more the feeling of knowing the boy she had loved for that long, loved her as well. He was several years older than her, she could remember her older sisters wanting to have him smile at them. The boy with the dark hair and the pale eyes who always seemed to run from someone and the Shelby boys would cause chaos in the street. She could remember their aunt and their mother shouting for them to be careful. How his mother would tell her mother when they stopped to chat how much of a handful her boys were. Lizzie was little then, still holding onto her mother's skirt.

She had only been 14 when the war broke out. Turned 15 that winter. The following year her mother sent her and her sisters out to make money. Their father had been sent to London for the war effort. He was too old for France, but they used him for other things. At 15 she was sent to her first man. A soldier who was on leave from France wanting an English girl. He didn’t care how old she was. He had been kind to her, even given her extra. The next time she wasn’t so lucky. It seemed Lizzie was destined for that job while her sisters got normal jobs. Her oldest sister worked as a secretary while her middle sisters got factory jobs.

“I promise you will never know hardship,” she said out loud and looked down at her stomach “Your father will get you a house with a real garden. You will go to a nice school, never know what it’s like going to bed hungry. You will be loved,” she smiled as she ran her hand down the front of her stomach. Hearing steps on the stairs she knew who it was. He had probably either waited for her to come back to bed or woken up with her gone. Putting her cigarette out she went back to typing. Hearing the feet across the old floor, it didn't take long before she felt his hands on her shoulders. The hands she knew could be deadly weapons were always soft with her. It was as if they changed whenever he touched her. After the hands, a kiss was pressed to her temple, Lizzie smiled and placed her hand on one of his “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d do this,” she told him as she continued typing.

“C’mon,” she heard his voice say as he put his hand in the keys. Looking at the half-written letter she turned to look at her husband “Come back to bed.” It felt unusual to hear him say it. Normally it would be her saying it. Looking at him as she knew he was serious, she had to finish what she had started.

"I'll just finish the letter and then I'll come to bed. Why don't you sit down and wait? You used to love listening to me type," Lizzie smiled remembering how he would just sit and watch her as she typed when she finally learned how to do it. How he'd ask her to do it while he would try to relax on the bed. Just wanting to listen to her work, she never understood why, but she never said no when he asked her.

Listening to her typing up letters, memos and whatnot. How he would have the door to his office open so he could listen to her when they were the last two still in the office.

"Alright," was all her husband had to say as she watched him drag his chair to sit next to her desk. Watching as he sat down she started typing. Looking up at him while she typed she couldn't help but smile as she saw his blue eyes watching her. As she finished she pulled the paper out of the machine and set it down with the rest.

Using the edge of the desk to help her stand she looked at her husband "Well?" she smiled before holding her hand out. Feeling him take her hand she turned the desk lamp off with her free hand as she lead him through the house and up the stairs. Soon they would be moving into a new home. More fitting for a growing family. Letting his hand go she let him close the door behind them. The room was dark besides the one lamp on the bedside table and the fire that was still burning. The room was warm. Throwing her dressing gown over the chair Lizzie sat down on her side of the bed.

Feeling a pair on hands on her shoulders and a nose buried in her hair she smiled and placed her hand on his. “You need to sleep,” she heard his voice murmur in her hair. Feeling the hands gently push her towards the bed, Lizzie looked up at her husband before she gently ran the back of her fingers down his cheek.

“You need to sleep as well,” she raised her eyebrow before she felt a hand on her thigh that was moving up and under her nightgown. “At least blow out the candle,” she giggled as she felt her husband nuzzle into her neck. With a groan he turned out to snuff the candle out.

“Now, where were we?”

#Lizzie and Thomas - Some nights it was you who stopped my heart from breaking #rp: Lay Your Claim #|| drabble

7 notes · View notes

wouldpollyapprove · 4 years

Text

A Girl That Wasn’t Meant To Love

Request: can you do a tommy x reader based on the song hell on high heels by motley crue

Requested by @magnificentzombiebasement

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Language, alcohol, prostitution

A/n: I had a completely different idea for how I wanted to write this and what I ended up actually writing is more of like a prologue. If you guys like this, I may write a second part, but it’s not a priority at the moment. I also want you guys to know that I gave up editing this halfway through b/c it’s hella long and I’m lazy. So, that’s the reason things may be spelled wrong or not make sense at all.

Masterlist

“There’s no shame in this life,” she’d been told before. It was by an old woman, one stuck in her place at one time in her life. “There is no shame in doing what must be done to survive.” Head held high, that’s what Y/n lived by. Ugly truths and monstrous men, she saw nothing but the end of the line. Every night was touch or go, wondering if she would have enough money to make it to the next. But with each rising sun, she grew stronger and the money in her pockets started to bulge.

There was no shame in what she did if it led to her survival.

Y/n never liked the only word ever used to describe women like her: “prostitute”. The word, unclean, allowed men to shove her face in the mud. Women, who never had to do a days work on their back to pay the bills, would spit at her, curses, even words sailors wouldn’t utter, leaving their porcelain lips. They didn’t see the pot of gold they had stumbled upon, all that they had that was out of reach from other’s. They were selfish in believing that some people had a choice in what had to be done to put food on the table.

It had always been a struggle to come by much of anything. Y/n grew up in a village in France that knew everything but wealth. People made enough to live, but never leave. War was the only thing that ever allowed boys and girls alike to wave at the village behind them. Most never returned, but there were always more to replace those in the ground. Producing like rabbits, there was no such thing as plentiful. Skin and bones, they all worked day and night to live for another hour, but it was never enough for Y/n.

Tough as nails, she was tired of living from meal to meal. Wishing for the world, she wasn’t like her mother or sisters, who dreamed of getting by, she wanted to take what was her’s. And so, with what little she had, she fled to Paris. It took days, different strangers pitying her state, the dirt stained clothes and tangled hair, but eventually she reached the golden city.

There, she could find little work with the skill set she’d acquired as a child. Laborers weren’t meant to walk the streets of the capital, they were meant for the tiny villages that she came from. And so, another line of work had to be found and that is when the woman who ran Le Sphinx pulled her inside. Knowing nothing of prostitution, Y/n was forced to quickly learn, being educated in both the desires of men and etiquette.

Once ready and thrown to the lions, she did whatever she could to stay above the sharp, white teeth. At first, there were many nights with tears streaming down her cheeks and the thought of home forever circling around her mind. It was hard to adapt to something she’d known nothing about. Even harder when she was merely competition to the other girls. No one would extend a hand, wipe the tears off her stained cheeks and tell her that it would get better. The girls at the brothel were worse than the ones Y/n encountered on the street. They did anything to start a fight and were worse than thieves. If you valued anything, it wasn’t to be kept in plain sight. It was a war zone one no man would ever have to face.

But before Y/n knew it, she was on top, the woman all the business men and visiting royals wanted to spend the evening with. It wasn’t bad to be sitting in the lap of a Norwegian royal, not once you were aware of how much their hat alone cost. Drowning in riches, this was close enough to the life she wanted. With all the money given to her by the men that believed they were her only loves, she packed her bags and moved to London.

That was where the rich became even richer and where our story starts.

Settling into her London home, Y/n decided she would rather spend her days doing anything but lying on her back. There were some clients, wealthy ones, that she’d see occasionally, but she wanted to make money in other ways. And with all that she had saved up, she did just that by purchasing a dress shop. It was the perfect quaint life that she had been looking for all along and it was finally her’s. Most of her days were spent hiring seamstresses or going over new fabrics, Y/n wanted women to flock from all over the country to buy her dresses and she would do anything to achieve that.

But like everyone, she got bored.

Wanting more than to roam the streets of London, she decided to put one of her best workers in charge and run around the English countryside. While on her little holiday, Y/n stopped in Birmingham. Meant to be the manufacturing capital of the country, it didn’t try to hide that fact. But she loved it. The dirt and grime, the sweat that covered the brow. She was raised just as they were, work until the day was done. The broken backs and accidental deaths were something she was all too familiar with.

These people were her people.

Taking in the city around her, Y/n wandered into a pub near a few factories. Whether it was accepted for women to venture out on their own in this city or not, she didn’t care. A mediocre whiskey sour was all she was asking for. Pushing the doors open, gold details ran along the wall as the sun peeked through stained glass windows. For a pub on the wrong side of town, London was all that crossed her mind. There were many pubs in the capital that held themselves like the one she stood in. Shaking off her shock, Y/n took a seat at one of the bar stools, sinking into its cushion.

“What can I get you?” the barmaid with eyes that dripped of honey and charcoal curls asked her.

“How about a whiskey sour?” she smiled at the girl. She looked to be no more than eighteen, what an age to be. By the time Y/n was that age, she was already in Paris, doing the job few women willing accepted. The girl nodded, curls bouncing around her chiseled face, before fetching the ingredients needed.

Y/n leaned back in her chair and began to search her purse for a cigarette. It was a bad habit she’d picked up from the brothel, but it did wonders at calming the nerves. She searched and searched, but it appeared that she smoked the last one that morning. “Fuck,” she muttered, doubling checking.

“Missing something?” a voice asked from across the bar.

She straightened to lock eyes with a tall man, his brunette hair shaved at the side. Unsure what to make of him, she simply nodded. He held himself like a businessman, suit and all, but all she could see were the rough edges of a working man.

“What have you lost?” he asked, waiting for a proper answer.

Sighing in defeat, Y/n placed her bag on the bar. “My cigarettes. I fear I’ve cleaned myself out.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips, slowly he dug a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled a pack out. “I happen to have a few.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile seeing the canister. God only knows where she’d have to go to buy a new pack. “Mind sharing one with me?”

Waltzing over to her side, movements swift and precise, he held one out between his fingers for her to take. Gently, she slipped it between her own before placing it between her lips. Being a gentleman, the man already had his lighter out by the time it was snug between her painted lips and lit it for her. “Thank you…” she waited for a name, taking a drag.

“Tommy.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” she smiled and watched as he slid into the seat next to her. “I assume your first name’s Thomas then.”

Tommy smiled. “No, it’s Ethel.” The statement pulled a laugh from the woman sitting next to him. “And what’s your name? Or do you not have one of those?”

“Oh I have one,” she said right before the barmaid returned with her drink. “Thank you,” she smiled at the girl. Attention back on the man beside her, she took a quick drink of her better-than-mediocre whiskey sour before answering his question. “Y/n L/n.”

The man nodded, eyes going up the length of her body. The silk smooth fabric of her dress, the purse discarded on the bar top, and the jewels that hung around her wrist told Tommy all he needed to know about her. Plain as day, Y/n came from money. “What brings ya to Small Heath?” Tommy questioned, lighting his own cigarette, and leaned back in his stool, turning towards her.

“Small stop before traveling to London,” she admitted.

“London’s home, I take it.”

Y/n shrugged and flicked ash into the ashtray between them. “For now.”

Silence fell between the two. For once in her life, butterflies fluttered around her stomach, creating a knot that was both nerve racking and pleasant. There was never a chance for Y/n to even think of any sort of love except that of money before moving to England. But still beside Tommy, she felt something that she had never experienced before. Her heart told her it was more than just the love that overcame a silly school girl. No matter what it said, though, her brain overruled and told her off on the silly notion.

The two spent the rest of the day talking at the bar, swapping stories of all they had done. Y/n swept her early career into a dark closet, locking it away from the young man. She knew how his sky blue eyes would turn the color of the sea with the knowledge out in the open. She couldn’t have that. For most of her life, Y/n had watched people’s views on her change in an instant based on a profession many dipped their toes into in the name of survival. She wouldn’t have that with him. Not when she could feel it in her bones that he was meant to be something more.

Eventually, Y/n had to go back to London, but she didn’t board the train without handing Tommy her address. “Write. Please. Anytime you wish, write to me. I will always answer,” a glossy smile danced on her lips, she placed a small paper in his palm.

“I will. I promise,” he answered. Though they hadn’t known each other long, both knew that they would never lose touch.

“I best be going now.” Y/n scanned the station, noticing as people began to board the train. “Goodbye, Tommy.” Before she could turn on her heels, a hand caught her wrist and pulled her back. A grasp escaped her before soft lips captured her’s. Deepening the kiss, Y/n wanted to do anything but board the locomotive.

Tommy pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Goodbye, Y/n,” he said with a sad smile as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

They parted that day and as Y/n watched him become nothing with the growing distance, she could still feel his lips on her. Call it love, call it lust, but it was one of the great wonders of the world, that she knew.

Once in London, Y/n made haste to write to Tommy. Her friends couldn’t help but notice the smile that adorned her face when the mail was dropped by every day and the one letter she picked out of the rest, holding it to her chest. They wondered if she’d found a lover or a boyfriend, but there was no answer she could give them.

What was Thomas Shelby to her? To a girl that wasn’t meant to love?

An answer couldn’t be given in fear of ruining what had been created.

Piles of letters flowed between the pair and soon, Tommy was asking her to come to Birmingham once more. The same excuses were used each time. She couldn’t find anyone to watch the shop or money was tight and she couldn’t spare a penny. White lies left her lips dressed as the truth. She couldn’t leave the safety of her home to visit the darkness of the unknown. Everything surrounding the man was new to her and Y/n couldn’t figure out how to handle it. Run straight at it or hide in the corner, those were her options. She liked the corner.

But Mr. Shelby wouldn’t have it with the excuses, deciding that if she couldn’t come to Birmingham then he would go to London.

A knock at the front door pulled mighty barks from Pearl, the French Bulldog Y/n found starving on the streets one night. With eyes on the stove, Y/n was weary to leave them unattended to answer the door. “Be there in a minute,” she called, giving the eyes a few extra seconds before sliding them onto a plate. Pearl ran between her feet, almost tripping her, as Y/n walked to the front door. Doing her best to keep the creature in the house, using one foot to hold her back, she opened the door, body freezing when she locked eyes with the man in front of her.

“Y/n.” A smile like honey spread across his face, almost making Y/n forget why her heart seized up in fear.

“Tommy,” she breathed out in return. The dog behind her used the shock to her advantage and quickly found a gap between her owner and the door, slipping through to bark at the stranger in front of her. Y/n scoffed and quickly scooped the dog up before she could take a bite out of Tommy’s polished shoes. “Pearl, you pest,” she scolded. “Um, please, come in.”

When the door was opened wider, Tommy stepped through the threshold and began to strip himself of his coat. “I was in town for business, thought I’d come see you.”

A smile lit up her face at his words. No one had ever been kind enough to do that, not for the innocent reasons he was. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen if you’d like some.” He nodded, following close behind as she led the way, eyes scanning the walls that past him.

“Lovely home,” he remarked as Y/n gestured for him to have a seat at the kitchen table. Doing as she pleased, he sank into the wooden chair and took in his surroundings.

The second his eyes had landed on her months before in the Garrison, Tommy knew the woman came from money. Back straight as a board, jewels dangling from her body, there was no mistaking it. He sat beside her, hoping she couldn’t sniff out dirt poor, violent prone individuals. By the end of her stay in Birmingham, it seemed she knew no difference between expensive suits obtained by gun point and those with a handful of coins.

It was foolish for Tommy to believe she would want anything to do with him. He was a poor boy turned thief turned war hero turned criminal. Little he touched after the war was legal and he knew better than to believe that a woman of her status would ever want a man like himself.

“Yeah,” she shrugged while dishing eggs onto two plates. Before placing them on the table, she set a piece of toast next to the eggs and grabbed the butter off the counter. A plate was placed in front of her guest, who wasn’t sure if he should be surprised that she knew how to cook. Anyone who owned a house such as the one Tommy found himself in usually had a few maids and a cook, but not Y/n it seemed. “What business brings you to London?”

“None worth anything,” he answered.

A groomed brow raised, she wondered why he wasted the trip. “Then why come?”

The answer that escaped his lips hit her in the heart, the one she saw coming. “For you.” For her, he had left the comforts of his home. For her, he had wasted precious time. And for her, he would surely be disappointed.

“Tommy,” she drawled, eyes gloomy to match her said smile. “You didn’t have to.”

Leaning back in his chair, his blue eyes pierced her own. His demeanor had changed. Once loving and sweet, now sharp and calculated. “You refused to come see me, decided to come see why.”

Y/n sighed, unsure whether to let her eyes wonder or stay focused on the man in front of her. “I’ve been busy,” she lied.

Her words must have been see through, not an ounce of weight to them, when Tommy rolled his eyes. “Apparently, you’ve been so busy that you’ve allowed yourself to visit the coast.” His words were bitter, laced with venom, each syllable as dangerous as the next. “Thought I wouldn’t find out?”

A foolish move to believe she could live a wonderful life. Once back in London, Y/n had done her fair share of research on Thomas Shelby. When it came to survival, it was always best to know all those around you. Y/n couldn’t allow anyone to burn her empire, no matter how much she was willing to let them. She knew Tommy was making his way up in the world, climbing the latter, each rung as illegal as the next. He was a quick witted and calculated man. Ambition seemed to always cross his mind. Tommy seemed to know as much about her as she did about him. But if he only mentioned her trip to the coast, perhaps he didn’t know all she thought he did.

Opening her mouth to say something, she was cut off before a word could get out.

“What am I to you?” The words were heavy on his tongue, even heavier ringing in her ears.

Y/n sat there, opening and closing her mouth, the breakfast in front of her completely forgotten. There was no perfect answer. No sentence that could be formulated that could wash away the pain evident in his eyes. There was no word that could be uttered to mend what she had broken but the simple truth.

Letting her eyes scour the room, she did her best to avoid eye contact as Tommy’s gaze drilled into her. “If you believe you don’t mean anything to me, you’re wrong. You mean the world to me.”

“You have an interesting way of showing it.”

Y/n couldn’t help but flinch at the bitter words. “I…” she shook her head and got to her feet. She couldn’t sit still, not with her heart attempting to beat out of her chest. “I don’t know how to love.”

The words were barely above a whisper but Tommy heard them from his place at the table. Eyes softening, he wasn’t sure he’d understood her properly. “What do you mean?”

Pacing around the kitchen, tears welled up in her eyes at all she didn’t want to say. Y/n wasn’t ashamed of her past, in fact, many would find it triumphant, but it wasn’t one that bathed in love. She had never been loved or in love until she had met Thomas Shelby at a pub in Birmingham. Many only had one love and that was good enough. But with her background, love was never enough. She could love with her whole heart, but her loyalty would always come into question.

“I have never been allowed to love,” Y/n explained at the mini bar in the corner of the room. It may have been early, but it was never earlier too early for a drink. A strong on at that. Shaking hand poured whiskey into a glass, filling much more than needed. “I-I have never been in a… relationship that wasn’t physical.”

Tommy wasn’t sure what to make of her announcement or the woman that stood before him. Whiskey pouring over the rim of her glass, it wasn’t hard for the man to see that her gentle words covered up a dirtier trust. Pushing himself out of his chair, in a few quick strides, he was by her side. Long fingers snatched the drink from her hand, placing it on the counter. “Were you a-”

“Please, please don’t say it!” she begged, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please.” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him, her head resting against his chest. “I won’t, I won’t,” Tommy said, rubbing a hand up and down her back. It did little soothe her but it was better than doing nothing. “It’s alright, love.”

Y/n shook her head, pulling away enough to meet his eyes. “No, it’s not,” she cried. “I’m fucking filthy! Not someone anyone would love.”

It broke his heart to see the pain in her eyes, the truth she placed on each word. Placing a hand against her cheek, he stroked the smooth skin, letting her melt against his touch. “I love you, Y/n,” he said softly to combat her sobs. “And I don’t care how filthy you are, I love you. And if I have to teach you how to lover properly, then so be it. But if you can love Pearl then I know you can love anyone.”

She was quiet, savoring each word that was said. No one had ever said such a thing to her and meant every word. Some customers had believed they were in love with her, taken her kindness for passionate love, but it was never that. “Do you mean it?” Y/n asked as Tommy wiped her tears away.

“Every word.” He leaned down, capturing her in a kiss. Y/n grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Tommy could have stayed there, with his arms wrapped around her, forever, but Pearl had other ideas. The dog barked from the other side of the room, earning laughs from two. Turning his attention back to Y/n, Tommy brushed a stray hair behind her ear and asked, “Now, will you come to Birmingham with me?”

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to either taglist.

Permanent Taglist: @amirahiddleston @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu @mzcrazy2 @lovemissyhoneybee @multi-fandom-iimagines @tarafaithe @jenepleurepasbaby @fernweh-fangirl @the-anxious-youth @theshelbyclan @wtfdanness @chloeforde @futuristicslimemongerbanana @auds24 @lucillethings @nemesis729 @sirkekselord @princesscornbread @i-volunteer-for-finnick @iwillboilyourteeth @anyasthoughts @ellieemais

Thomas Shelby Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @imnotuglyimjustpredebut

Peaky Blinders: @simonsbluee

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinder imagine #the peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shleby imagines #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader

420 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 4 years

Text

;glazed & dazed (m) COMING SOON

Vanilla, that’s what you do best as one of the industry’s most loved stars. Only you want a change. Taking the plunge to taint your pure image, knowing so many fans would love to see it sullied, even if just for one movie.

There’s only one man for the job in your eyes. One you’ve always admired from afar, and the only one who’s perfect enough to take your innocence in the most fitting way. Seokjin Kim. Even more famous than you; a pro, a veteran, and someone you can’t wait to give your all for. Together you will be unstoppable.

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre; pornstar au, pornstar! seokjin, pornstar! reader, explicit smut, romance, some angst bc it’s me! estimated words; 30k

(!) warnings to be confirmed

RELEASE DATE; AUGUST 4TH 9PM BST

T E A S E R (2.4k)

Glazed and Dazed: Good Girl Gone Bad XXX

Porn’s most loved good girl like you’ve never seen her before... Devoured by Porn’s most filthy leading man... Buckle up everyone, you’re in for a (sweet) treat...

To get hired, there’s just one simple motto to remember: “The magic is always in the hole.”

・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・◦・

The day of the dinner came around quickly and you were oddly nervous. You had made it very clear how you wanted this to be a personal, independent job, that you wanted to spend significant time discussing and storyboarding the movie yourself, so of course you were thrilled he understood that and wanted to meet up. You just hadn’t expected the one on one just yet. Usually these things were discussed between manager and manager, not adult star and adult star. The only interaction you’d have was when you met up to shoot. This way was a lot more nerve wracking.

Despite being the complete opposite, it almost felt like you were getting ready for a first date. Not that you could remembered such a feeling. It had been a long time since you’d dated anyone, so long ago that you often wondered if you’d ever get the chance again. Dating and relationships seemed like something your future would never hold at this point, and somewhere along the line you’d become okay with that…

Still, you could faintly remember the nervous buzz a first date bought and that’s what you were feeling right now as you applied your mascara in the mirror. These nerves were something else entirely though, of course. You were going to discuss sex. You were going to try and convince this man to make a movie with you. It was a pretty terrifying thought. You’d grown confident over the years, but this was a totally brand new situation.

Irene had text you the location of the restaurant this morning, Seokjin in charge of the reservation, and had warned you to dress fancy. This place was no Cheesecake Factory google soon informed you. You hadn’t worn a dress in months, and that had only come about because you were forced to attend the AIA’s; a tacky award ceremony filled with mostly vulture like men hiding behind a professional title. You were beginning to realise your distaste for the industry had always been there, in the back of your head, it was only lately that it had made itself louder…

You took an Uber there, hardly flashy but that had never been you, so why change now? You would’ve driven yourself but you’d probably need a glass (read: bottle) of wine during dinner just for some Dutch courage, even if it was a bad idea. You attempted sophistication when you made your way to the reception area, beginning to regret the size of your heels halfway there, and relayed Seokjin’s surname to the host, clutching your purse uneasily. What if he wasn’t here? What if he wasn’t coming at all? They were dumb fears but they were still there. However, they soon disappeared when the host smiled and nodded, calling a female colleague over to lead you to your table. You didn’t miss the way his eyes glazed over you a little longer than they should though, the faint look of recognition on his features. He was wondering how he knew you. It no longer fazed you, you got that surprisingly a lot. It was just one of those things. This man had watched you get fucked…and maybe he’d watch you get fucked by Seokjin soon enough…

Your table was in another room, cut off from the busier main area. It held a few tables but tonight it was just Seokjin and you. He sat waiting for you at the furthest table and he stood once you entered. Your waiter turned to leave, telling you to ring the bell when you were ready to order and you thanked her, Seokjin joining you. And then you were alone.

You stood in the entrance way like someone lost. You had not expected this to be so intimate. You had expected other customers eating around you, not just you and he alone. Light music played from the speakers, the only thing filling the silence until Seokjin smiled, stepping forward, around the table to greet you. “Good Evening.”

“Evening.” You found yourself easing immediately, smiling back. It was hard not to upon hearing his voice. It was so gentle, so polite. The complete opposite of his on camera persona. The filth that flew from his mouth was unholy. Here, he looked like every mothers’ dream son in law.

There were a few details you’d forgotten to offer up regarding Seokjin, which seemed absurd because it was the first thing anyone noticed. He was ridiculously handsome. Like out of this world handsome. Drop dead gorgeous most would say. Enough to make any woman or man weak at the knees while in his presence. Or maybe that was just you right now. You walked forward, desperate to sit down.

“Oh, let me hang up your coat,” Seokjin offered, and you stopped, lowering the black textile off your bare shoulders. This room was comfortably warm, now all you had to worry about was breaking out into a sweat. He handled the garment with care, attaching it to one of the bronze hooks beside the entrance door while you took a seat, tucking yourself in discreetly.

You definitely didn’t have to worry about over dressing tonight. Seokjin was in a black two piece suit, the jacket sinfully figure hugging, stretched over his broad shoulders, the dress shirt underneath crisp and white, loose at the neck. His hair was parted to the side, his usual style, black locks sleek. He was a distinguished man. Somehow soft yet angular. It just depended what way the light caught him, and age had been kind to him. He wasn’t much older than you, perhaps five years or so, but he didn’t look a day past 25.

The strong arch of his eyebrows almost made you feel intimidated as he made his way back to the table and sat in front of you, so much so, you had to look away from his gaze, spotting a glass of iced mineral water already waiting for you. You picked it up and sipped, wetting your dry throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what you drunk else I would have ordered something a little stronger to start off with,” he apologised with another smile.

“That’s okay,” you reassured.

“Here, take the drinks menu. There’s plenty to choose from.”

“Thanks.” You took it from him, catching his eyes as you did so and he chuckled.

“Sorry, I’m acting weird. I’m nervous.” Your eyes widened a little in surprise. He was nervous? Not going to lie, that made you feel a lot better. “It’s really nice to meet you.” He continued, laughing louder this time. “I’m honestly pretty awestruck.”

You nearly snorted. You were the only one allowed to be awestruck, surely? You shooed him away with a hand. “Please. Shouldn’t I be the one lost for words? The man, the legend.”

“That’s just nonsense.” You were both laughing now, embarrassing one another. The apples of his cheeks were tinged pink, a reaction you hadn’t been expecting from a man like him, and you lifted your hand up to your face just to check how hot you were, wondering if you were blushing too.

“No, honestly. I’m a fan of your work,” he told you earnestly. You must have looked unconvinced because he chuckled again. “Don’t look so dubious. Can’t take a compliment!?”

“Actually, that’s never been a strong point of mine,” you admitted. Plus, it seemed pretty crazy that The Seokjin Kim was a fan of what you made. You were polar opposites. Wasn’t your stuff way too tame for him?

“So, do you have any questions?” You asked, puzzling how you should start this discussion, wanting to divert the attention from you. This was all new to you, and you were trying to fight through your awkwardness.

He smiled. “Let’s order first. Get to know one another a little.” You watched him pick up the main menu that laid next to him. “I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want you to think of this as a business deal, more so, hm…” He paused to search for the right words, smile turning into a grin when they came to him, “an agreement between friends.”

You dipped your head, smiling coyly. It was hard not to agree with that.

“Now, any thoughts on that drink?” He prompted.

You spent half the dinner getting to know one another, nerves slowly depleting as you laughed and joked. Despite hearing all these good thing about Seokjin, nothing could prepare you for how truly well-spoken and well-mannered he was. He was charming but definitely not with intent. He was easy to be around, a warming presence. You spoke about mindless things really, hobbies, favourite tv shows, books you were currently reading. If anyone could see you, they’d think you were on a first date. In reality you were here to discuss the deal of a lifetime.

You were halfway through the main course when Seokjin brought it up again, intrigued and impressed that you were determined to take the reins with this project. You had made sure his agency was aware of that. How much work would go into the discussing and creating of this movie. How close you would work together, and how you were willing to do just about anything. You had chosen Seokjin because of this. He was known in the scene for being extremely professional and respectful. To both the actresses and staff, and you had kept that all in mind, and on top of that, he had been in this industry for over a decade. He knew how things worked, and despite not knowing him personally, there was a trust there when it came to that. You looked up to him.

You thought about telling him all this, but it just seemed all too official. You were embarrassed. Would he think that you were being over the top? Over stepping boundaries? However despite you reluctance to open up, he seemed more than excited about this offer, which surprised you. In the greatest of honesty, you hadn’t even expected to get this far, predicting an email where his agency declined the offer, not that of a dinner invitation with the man himself.

“I have to say though, I’m surprised it’s me you want,” he admitted almost, what was that…bashfully?

You watched him over the rim of your wine glass, taking a sip before you replied. He hadn’t consumed any alcohol tonight, driving here himself, so you were actually still on your first and only drink, in fear of overdoing it and making a fool of yourself. You didn’t drink often so you were a bit of a lightweight.

“You were the only choice.”

You could hear your heart beating against your ribcage, but thought what the hell? Why were you so scared to let him know how much you wanted him to be your co-star? He was perfect for the job and you knew you’d be great together. You told him just as much.

“Well,” he gobsmacked, chuckling lowly. “I’m truly speechless right now. Incredibly flattered, but speechless.”

You dropped your head. “I know I’m not what you’re used to but this is my chance for some change. I truly want this, and it would be just as much your project as it is mine,” you reassured. You’d gladly let him take charge. You had so much to learn from him.

He smiled your way, and you took a shaky breath, needing to know his answer. “So what do you say?”

He paused, smile widening. “I say it sounds fun. I’m in.”

“Really?” You almost gasped, too excited to hide your reaction. Relief flooded over you.

“I think it would be great. Honestly, shooting anything with you would be an honour. You never know,” he laughed, “maybe it’s time I had a shakeup too. I can pull off softcore, right?”

You burst out laughing, realising how unflattering it might look at the last second and shot your hand up to your mouth in a bid to stop yourself, but he laughed freely, not caring what you thought. He had a cute laugh, almost dorky, despite his untouchable appearance.

“You could pull off anything.”

“So could you,” he told you, turning serious, the genuineness in his voice making you shift in your seat awkwardly. “Trust me, I don’t have some crazy expectations when it comes to the women I work with. I think you’re amazing and I would be honoured to work with you. I’m honoured that you thought of me, and…” He trailed off, hesitating. “Actually, I think I should let you know something…”

You raised your eyebrows, curious, and unable to guess what he wanted to disclose. You waited patiently.

“I’m going to be retiring soon.”

Your jaw dropped. “Y-You’re what?” That you had not been expecting.

Seokjin was the it man in porn. You could never imagine him leaving the industry. Men often had it easier like that. Not that they didn’t have struggles, not that you didn’t hear stories, but when it came to longevity, it was easy being a man in porn. Women had a sell by date. In fact, at 27 you were probably near pushing it yourself. Only a certain few kept their fame for decades, and then they were boxed in, stuck doing the same type of movie over and over. The thought made you suddenly bitter. You didn’t want to be boxed in.

“It’s my time. I’ve been here far too long,” he shrugged. Mood dropping, you looked across at him sadly. You felt funny, couldn’t put your finger on it. “But can you keep it quiet?” He asked. “It’s something I’ve been discussing with my agency. I don’t know when it’ll happen yet, but I thought you should know.”

You nodded, feeling a little wooden from the shock, but you quickly forced yourself to smile. “Secret’s safe with me. Honest.” He didn’t even have to tell you, but you appreciated it. Didn’t really understand why he had in the first place.

“Secret,” he repeated, amused. “It’s funny, right? Usually something like this would benefit the both of us, help sustain our careers, but I’m calling time and you’re,” he paused, watching you carefully as he continued. “I guess you want a change in direction?”

A Change in direction? Did you want that? You didn’t know what you wanted. In a way you were lost, not bored. He was still watching you, as if searching for some kind of reaction. Some kind of answer.

“Fucking me will change everything, you know,” he told you finally with a tilt of his head. “But I think that’s what you want, right?”

Change. You think that sounded better. One word. One feeling.

Just what type of change did you want?

#so nervous for this one #pls let me know ur thoughts/if ur excited!!#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #fic:glazed&dazed

296 notes · View notes

dreamsister81 · 4 years

Text

Jeff and MI:

By age, you fit in the G.I.T generation, but you obviously are not one of them...

These facilities are a mystery to me. There they tell you only one thing: hurry up! This leads you nowhere, afterwards your own children run away from you. Through these trainings you get to know women, you get to know men, music is inoculated into people who have no feeling for it; then they can only scare other people or insult them...

I was in this terrible place too, by the way-G.I.T That was a complete waste of time, apart from the theoretical lessons and the friends that I had there. Otherwise: an absolute wrong decision.

How long have you studied there?

One year, the normal program. They give you tons of material, you have to absorb everything, you practice, you are tested and you go to the next course. An intensive support with development is simply not possible. I did so many things: theory, single string technique, jazz class, rock class, all sorts of genres. My friend John was teaching bass there, and he once said that there is not a single teacher at the institute who says to the students, "OK, you're learning all this stuff here now, you're learning how to entertain people and you're learning to learn. But do you even know that there is no one in the universe other than yourself who plays the music you play? " John left the school then. For me it was all a joke that cost me $ 3,900. People interested in music should take private lessons somewhere, start a band, do something with people who like them and have what it takes. These schools are a scene in their own right, a very small, secluded world-the music, on the other hand, is gigantic and open. If you don't notice it, you miss a lot of magic, pain, development...(thinks) and rock! Apart from Paul Gilbert, there was no one there who really rocked. Session musicians are bred there; and at the end of the year you get a piece of paper that says, "Now you have the skills to become a professional musician." Well, congratulations! And then you look for jobs and play what other people want. But that's not all the music, there's something else isn't there? Where's the music coming from? From your own head or stomach, or the concepts of the people you work for?-Gitarre & Bass, October, 1995

I had a friend named John Humphrey. I went to this really crappy guitar school for a year, and he used to teach there, he was a bass teacher. And then he left, and we ended up being roommates later on, after I graduated. This is the kind of school where you give them a shitload of money in order to spend a year learning their curriculum.

What was it, G.I.T. (Guitar Institute of Technology in Los Angeles)?

Yeah, it was G.I.T.. They give you their curriculum, and it's not too comprehensive, but it's just enough, and then you can [snaps his fingers] move on to the next thing. And pretty soon you have all this shit inside you and then they give you this paper that says you have what it takes to be a professional musician.

It's a rock-oriented thing, isn't it?

In the end, I think, the only true product of that kind of learning is to get you gigs on the studio circuit and to get you gigs on the session guy circuit.

So, Lee Ritenour went there or something?

G.I.T. was started by Howard Roberts, the guy who played the wah-wah guitar on the theme to Shaft. And this other guy named Pat Hayes. I don't know. It just seemed like a racket, really. John said a lot of things to me that stuck in my mind. He said that there was nobody who stopped you, sat you in a room and said, okay, we have all these artists that you're learning the licks from, you have your guitar heroes, your virtuoso lust objects. But there's nobody who can make the kind of music you can make now except for you. And you can make it now. You don't even have to know how to go fast. And that makes all the sense to me in the world. It's also kind of an unseen process, that concept, originality. It's like that in all the education systems; there's never any real...identity education, self-generative identity art sort of thing, to be yourself. If everybody in Melbourne had a Wurlitzer organ and had the passion to sing something or make something, you'd have hundreds of thousands of different styles, if they were coming exactly from only their DNA, only their makeup, and their emotional percepts, their idea about what art is. You could have way-removed genres from what is already accepted, avante-garde country-rock-punk-folk-whatever. It's unlimited. But for some reason, the conventions always take over and there's a very ready and powerful formula to step into...

Those are the type of [formula-derived] players who can say, "Well, I was listening to the radio in 1967 and I heard the guitar solo in Jimi Hendrix's 'All Along the Watchtower,' and that guitar sound, that tone, would work perfectly for this television commercial."

Yeah. See? "Stealing from the greats, that's okay." That's right. Once I stopped in [at G.I.T.] years later, when I was on tour going through L.A., just to see what it was like. They've got a completely high-tech, multi-million dollar facility...

More so than when you had been there?

Way more. When I was there, it was just a ragtag bunch of teachers, and they had all left by then. They had video facilities and a class for stage moves and all kinds of things. And I saw this guy who was working the desk, the guy who watches the door. He had a bass on, and he was practicing his Nirvana chops! He was playing "In Bloom" on his bass, way up on his chest, jazz-fusion style, to the Nirvana song. I thought, oh shit--he was practicing his grunge riffs! He was getting his grunge down! Best fucking thing you can do, if you have the interest, is go to a private teacher, go someplace, some college, and learn theory. That was something I really enjoyed, actually, something that wasn't totally pointless. Theory meaning the meaning of the musical nomenclature. I was attracted to really interesting harmonies, stuff that I would hear in Ravel, Ellington, Bartok.-Double Take, February 29, 1996

Once the site of a seakeasy and a bra factory, the 30,000-square-foot quarters were now the home of Musicians Institute, a vocational school for anyone who considered himself or herself a serious musician. With its wooden desks and chipped-tile hallways, MI resembled any other urban school, but at those desks, student guitarists and drummers studied scales and power chords in hopes of becoming the next Eddie Van Halen or Neil Peart, the flashy drummer with Rush. On their way to class each morning, flaxen-haired guitar gods in training could be spotted holding their guitars and practicing licks as they walked down Hollywood Boulevard.

Jeff had heard about Musicians Institute (and its subdivision, the Guitar Institute of Technology) while in high school and told everyone it was his one and only destination. However, potential superstardom did not run cheap. The school charged $4,000 for its one year course, and by the time Jeff Graduated from Loara High School, Mary Guibert was beginning to fall on hard financial times as she went in and out of jobs. In need of money for herself and her two sons, she prematurely broke into a $20,000 fund earmarked for Jeff, but only after he tured nineteen. Once Mary proved to the courtsthat Jeff needed it for his education, he and Mary received it a year early. In a deep irony, the father Jeff had barely met and increasingly resented would be paying his son's way through music school.

On graduation night, September 15, 1985, at the Odyssey in Granada Hills in the San Fernando Valley, Jeff, Stoll, and Marryatt closed the ceremony by playing Weather Report's "Pearl On the Half Shell."-from Dream Brother

With its 30-odd thousand feet of floor space and row upon row of "labs", where hopeful guitar heroes could jam with such shit-hot players as Scott Henderson, LA's Musician's Institute must have seemed like nirvana for someone like Jeff Buckley, trapped as he was behind the Orange Curtain. According to his buddy Chris Dowd, that's exactly why Buckley enrolled there, arriving just before autumn, 1984, bankrolled by $4,000 that Mary managed to squeeze from a Tim Buckley trust fund.

Originally known as the Guitar Institute, which in itself says plenty, the school was opened in 1977. Drawing on the educational philosophy of journeyman guitarist Howard Roberts, it was co-founded and managed by Los Angeles music businessman Pat Hicks, "a real shyster opportunist", in the words of Tom Chang, an expat Canadian who would become very tight with Jeff Buckley during their two years at the Institute. In 1978, thr Bass Institute was opened, followed by the Percussion Institute two years later. Desppite Hicks' questionable business ethics-amongst other things, he'd hire students as cheap labour to do essential maintenance work on the building, which led to Buckley being hired as an electrician's assistant soon after graduating-he did manage to persuade well regarded players and bands to lecture, and play alongside, the hopefuls who'd enrolled there.

What Buckley lacked up in "front" he clearly made up for in ambition. That was proved, in spades, by Buckley's graduation performance which was played out on September 15, 1985, at a venue called the Odyssey in Granada Hills. While the sonic crush and enviable chops of Rush and Led Zeppelin still rocked the world of this Orange County teen, Buckley had also developed a real taste for such "noodlers" as Weather Report.

The number chosen by Buckley for graduation was their "D Flat Waltz" (not "Pearl On The Half-Shell", as documented elsewhere, which they'd performed at a previous event), a typically complicated few minutes of Weather Report neo-fusion-a "really cool piece, very involved", according to Tom Chang-and a standout from their 1983 set Domino Theory. But Buckley, accompanied by Stoll on drums and Marryatt on bass, didn't just play the piece, he also wrote the individual parts out beforehand for the band.-from A Pure Drop

MI pics by me

#jeff buckley #MI #Musicians Institute #GIT #mylove #supremebeing #favorite #music #jeff places

24 notes · View notes