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ladylingua · 1 year

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I have a very genuine question about the tipping post I promise I didnt read it in bad faith: are people who simply cannot afford to tip not “allowed” to eat out? I’m just thinking about how it works where I am from and while tipping is the norm here if someone doesn’t tip because they can’t afford it it really isn’t a big deal (+tipping norm here us only 10%). so if a poor family goes out to eat to celebrate something and they can barely afford the meal would they still be expected to tip 20% because they shouldn’t eat out if they cant afford it? thank you in advance I’m really curious

If it helps, don’t think of the tip as a separate thing. It is part of the cost of your meal. So if you cannot afford to pay for the cost of the meal including the tip you cannot afford to eat at that restaurant. This is something I myself have to calculate when I’m deciding if I want to eat at a particular restaurant- if I have $15 I can’t go to a restaurant and order a $20 entrée and then refuse to pay the remaining cost, and likewise if I have $15 I can’t order a $15 entrée and expect not to pay the server for their service.

Now that doesn't mean families who can't afford a pricy restaurant can't eat out at all. Since it is a % of your bill you can try to go for a cheaper restaurant (smaller bill = smaller tip), or if you go to a counter service place where you serve yourself you’re not expected to tip 20% (sometimes they have a jar out you could kindly throw a dollar or more in, but there is much less expectation to tip because the workers at a place like that receive a full minimum wage, more on that in a sec). I will also say in my lived experience poor families in America understand and tip well, I’ve almost exclusively been under tipped by wealthy people (which is what kicked off the debate on twitter- if your bill is $700 then you obviously can afford to tip a full 20%, no destitute families are spending $700 on one meal).

Technically speaking you can get away with 18% as a tip, and if you go down to 15% your waiter will think you’re cheap and be annoyed (15% definitely implies you were unhappy with their service) but that is the lowest possible threshold of acceptability. 10% is not an acceptable rate here, and 20% is now the expected norm for good service, and going up from there for great service. And I would never, ever not tip at all. I can only imagine not tipping if like the server had done something deeply offensive or dangerous or something. I've never encountered a situation where I felt the server didn't deserve any tip at all.

Because you’ve asked in genuine good faith I’m going to provide some more context to help you understand a bit more why this is the way it is-

Waitstaff in america are wildly underpaid. Our federal government assumes the tips are part of their expected income, and so a) they are taxed on assumed tips and b) it is legal to pay them less than standard minimum wage. Currently the tipped federal minimum wage is $2.13/hr. Now, states set their own individual rates so some states do better, but $2.13/hr is the lowest they can all legally go. And you’ll notice in that link it mentions the assumed tips and taxing them. I said on my original post, when I worked as a tipped waitress I made $2.68/hr and sometimes my biweekly paycheck was like $60 total. Imagine trying to survive on $120 a month, you absolutely cannot. Tips made up my actual wage, and were the paycheck I depended on to pay for my basic needs. I relied directly on customers to choose to do the social convention of tipping for survival, and when someone would choose to do otherwise it was utterly devastating.

Another thing customers sometimes don’t realize is your waiter may not be allowed to keep all of the tip themselves. It’s a common practice to pool tips amongst all the waitstaff and then divide them equally, and many places require that you tip out other employees there. So if you give me $10 as a tip I might be actually giving a large chunk of that to bussers, bartenders, etc. Or maybe we pool tips and someone else stiffed my colleague so now all of us are sharing your $10 tip. So also keep in mind that the money you leave as a tip very often does not go entirely to the actual waiter, so a big tip can actually become pretty small much faster than you would think.

(and that's just legal practices, wage theft and illegal practices run rampant in the restaurant industry, just fyi)

If you are wondering why tipping culture here is so grim, it is because of slavery. Tipping got big here as a way to keep forcing Black Americans into working for free, now with a small tip but still no actual wage. It was designed for oppression. Waitstaff are overwhelmingly not wealthy people. It is very common for them to be on food stamps, require housing assistance, or to otherwise be living under the poverty line. If you are eating out and not tipping because you yourself are poor, you are taking money out of someone else’s poverty wages to do so. When we debate minimum wage here in america, conservatives are really good at painting a picture of waitstaff being perky middle class college kids making an extra buck, or teens from wealthy homes wanting some spending money. There is an implication that they don't really need the money that badly. That is not the reality of who makes up most serving jobs in america. Minimum wage workers are likely to be in poverty, they’re likely to be women and specifically they’re likely to be women of color. Americans of color are significantly more likely to be working at minimum wage than white americans. There is a pretty sizeable number of minimum wage workers who are over 50, and a not insignificant amount of them who are mothers who support their families. There are also those teens who just want extra cash, and they deserve good compensation for their hard work too, don’t get me wrong, but they are only a portion of who makes up the minimum wage workforce.

If you’re like “But that’s such a shitty system, you’re saying it’s pitting poor people against each other for basic human comforts!” yup. I 100% agree. I am a vocal proponent of raising the minimum wage for that reason. I also advocate for a Universal Basic Income, because I understand that when it comes to small mom & pop restaurants the owners aren’t always making a ton of money either and it seems like truly no one is winning in this system. It is set up to oppress and to demean and to grind us all down. There are lots of orgs in America that are fighting to improve the system, or to radically change the system. There are also restaurants that have tried to do things differently- there’s a wine bar in my city that says specifically on their menu that their wine is more expensive because they pay their workers a true livable wage so there is no tipping there. Instead as a customer I pay a higher upfront cost that covers the true expense of running the bar- including server wages. I love that, I wish more places would do things like that. In the meantime, when I’m choosing where to eat I factor in a tip of 20% when calculating my estimated bill, because paying for service is part of the cost.

Refusing to tip fully in america is not doing anything to change the system. It does not make restaurant owners rethink their pay structure, it does not put pressure on our government to fix minimum wage, it does not make a political statement. It just means your server is going home wondering if they can afford their own meal that night.

Thank you for asking for clarity, I hope this helps. Please feel free to ask more if you have any remaining confusion or are curious about other aspects of american culture. If I can answer and the questions are respectful, I am happy to reply!

#also fwiw #you know those big american chain restaurants people like to make fun of?#like olive garden or red lobster or applebees or whatever?#a lot of the appeal of those types of restaurants is they make a big production over you as a customer like you're at a high end restaurant #but the prices are much lower than an actual nice restaurant #so that is why so many americans view going to outback steakhouse as a big treat #it's not that we don't know what a good steakhouse is #it's that those places give you that service but your steak is $20.99 #and if you are like 'ha! my family wishes they could afford chilis"#no yeah those places are not cheap i feel you #but that's exactly the appeal of those big chains #a real nyc steakhouse starts at like $40 for steaks #and goes up from there #now look at outback's menu #now you get it?#so yeah if you're not a wealthy family and you have a celebration coming up you look for a restaurant in that vein

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1o1percentmilk · 4 months

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Commission for a close friend $•u•$

#id in alt #milkart2206 #bunnygirl #commission #what???? milk does...... OTHER art?????#< my typical artstyle before fatal shapes event #also ehhhh i guess i take comms but on a very limited 'for friends only' basis #it's like... chinese guy running a restaurant and i recognize u so i give u an extra plate of gyoza as a gift #closed down automobile shop that i used to run out of my garage but if u come by with busted engine i'll repair it anyways #'just for you my good friend'#just ask i guess bc my prices r also all over the place #i dont advertise it bc i can't take very many.

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themenuland1 · 1 year

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Culvers Menu – Delicious ButterBurgers & Fresh Frozen Custard

Culver’s is a privately owned and operated casual fast food restaurant chain in America. Did you know that Culver’s is the second-favorite burger chain in the US?

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arieswritez · 6 months

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Prodigal Son

prodigal son - derek goffard x afab!reader

cw: MDNI!!!! implied & actual noncon, threats of violence & actual violence, knifeplay, unprotected sex, creampie, weird old men, abuse of power, slight sacrilege (if you squint idk i have religious trauma), derek

about: one of my derek hcs (and i have plenty ‘cause my brain is too fried to write actual fanfic) is that not only is he well known but he is actually very well liked. (~2.3k words)

a/n: this has been sitting in my private posts for the longest & it keeps getting buried under other posts so here it is before it disappears into the abyss <3 is there a second part? maybe. will it take me forever to post it? yes. xx barely read through so if there's some grammatical errors im srry ;( will be editing if needed

the public views the goffards as royal adjacent: his face plastered on nearly every magazine, listing him as the country’s most eligible bachelor. you read about the goffard brothers and their lives of luxury, private schools, boats, villas in italy, and rumoured engagements with duchesses. you remember gushing over them with your friends. . and while they seemed to like matt goffard better, your attention was on derek. getting your hands on every magazine with his face on it and following any blog dedicated to him.

however, despite how much his image sells, not much is known about derek other than the fact that he’s next in line to take over the goffard business. derek is known for many things but his personality is not one of them.

media training may have prepared him to smile and smolder into a camera but those who really know him know that his personality is just. . off-putting. a smile that doesn’t meet the eyes, not talking or even making eye contact with anyone he considers to be “the help”.

his father has done a good job at using derek’s good looks to his advantage. he’s spent a pretty penny cleaning up his messes and his PR team has been working with derek ever since he started to become an absolute terror (around age 13).

and so, with a lot of training, derek learns how to subdue it: suppressing a sneer of disgust when someone attempts to engage him in conversation. he still finds it hard not to lash out when someone so much as brushes their shoulders against him, when he catches a whiff of the cheap cologne and/or perfume clinging to their clothing.

and when the dam eventually cracks: it's ridiculously easy to patch up. because behind that carefully curated image is a long string of accusations of harassment, hush money, NDA’s and lawsuits that’ll never see the light of day thanks to daddy dearest. derek's victims have either been intimidated into silence by the business mogul or simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

derek's father has worked his ass off and he'd be damned if some nobodies ruin the mirage he's created.

from the outside looking in, the goffards - particularly the brothers - are just your average nepo babies. everyone fantasizes about being them. or winning the lottery and marrying into wealth.

it’s only when you meet derek that you realize the goffard empire is more of a jungle than it is a monarchy.

it’s a busy night at the upscale restaurant you work in. and everyone tells you: "you’re lucky you’ve got this gig."

on most days, that’s hard to believe: rich snobs that treat you like you’re shit smeared beneath their shoe and don’t tip well. but that night, with the staff urgently trying to get around, you figure they may be right. . because you get derek’s table.

lucky you <3

derek is with his father, a couple business partners, and two rugged men with shifting eyes who you assume are their bodyguards. he looked like a dream in person. his usually tousled blond hair slicked back, dressed all in black. his dress shirt slightly unbuttoned: his trademark 'disheveled' look you're sure was actually carefully styled. and against his chest, you notice a plain gold chain that was undoubtedly worth more than your yearly salary.

if you thought he looked good in pictures, he looked godly in person.

you do your best to contain your excitement, trying to make a good impression when you introduce yourself. the pitch in your voice heightening - as it always does while on the clock - and you gave your best smile. his father and the other business men seem to be more. . welcoming. or at least in that awkward way old rich white men have of being patronizing and flirting with you at the same time. you couldn’t keep track of the amount of times they’ve called you ‘sweetheart’ , ‘babe’, or ‘doll’.

derek, however, hardly looks at you. he just orders from the menu, giving you short and cutting answers when you inquire about anything, then tossing the menu in your general direction - you hadn’t finished talking - without as much as glancing at you. the menu nearly slides off the table and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment when you fumble to catch it.

and despite how you think he hardly notices you. . he does. from the corner of his eye, he watches your disheartened figure walk away, and the corner of his mouth perks up.

he’s extremely demanding the entire night you serve him. everything you do is wrong in his eyes. the food was cold. too much salt. not enough salt.

i found your hair in the food, i’m not eating that.

you forgot the asparagus i ordered.

the steak isn't medium, it's cooked to shit.

can you do anything right?

your brain feels like mush and the cooks are tearing you to shreds in the kitchen because they can’t get to derek themselves.

eventually, derek’s father must catch on to derek's sour attitude and asks for the check. you curse yourself. it's been a long, ego destroying night & now you’re 100% sure you’re not getting a tip.

you just bow your head and apologize for the umpteenth over your ‘subpar service’ and pick up the table’s plates.

and as you hold back tears, you don’t notice how derek’s is missing his steak knife.

after being glared at by half the kitchen staff - it’ll be a miracle if you still have your job come morning - you scurry into the bathroom to have a good cry.

unfortunately, derek’s been watching you like a hawk. you are quite predictable. or maybe he’s just done this to many women before you.

derek excuses himself from the table and follows you. you hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. you weren’t special. there was nothing unique about you. and for his standards - considering he constantly had a supermodel on his dick - you were just. . plain as hell.

you just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. which was unfortunate for you, of course, seeing as how derek figured someone the likes of you couldn’t exactly afford days off.

and it’s exactly that that caused you to be pinned face first against one of the stalls, the steak knife pressed against your throat, your work skirt flipped over your hips, your stockings and panties torn, and his cock inside you.

when he first attacked you, it happened so fast you didn’t catch a glimpse of who it was.

you were washing your face, not caring if you were removing your makeup in the process: what difference did it make, anyway?

you looked up into the mirror, expecting to see bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. . only to have your head bounced off of the glass.

your ears rang.

you stumbled.

and a hand wrapped around your arm and threw you up against one of the empty stalls.

someone flattened themselves up against you, a hardness pressing against your back.

you recognized his voice first, when he hissed into your ear,

“scream and i’ll slit your fucking throat.”

then, by scent: his expensive cologne choking you as he caged you in and jackhammered into you.

despite his stone cold demeanor towards you the entire night, his mouth stayed latched onto your skin: biting down in an attempt to smother the needy whines and moans that crawled out of his throat. you barely breathed, choking on your cries, hoping the blade wouldn’t slip in his shaking grip.

you were no one.

just another poor little toy derek wanted to break but for some reason, you’d managed to get him all pent up. seeing you fumble around while he berated you . . and now seeing you try to stifle your cries of pain had his balls drawing up. his other hand groped your breast, the knife leaving your throat long enough for him to grab your face and make you look at him over your shoulder.

“beg me,” he hissed. “beg me to come inside you. c’mon. . don’t you want it to be over~?”

you sniffled, letting out a surprised cry of pain at a particularly hard thrust.

"pl-please -" you cried out, unable to get the words out between your sobbing. "please-"

"p-p-please~" he mimicked your whines in a high pitched, exaggerated way. "please what? please what, huh? fuck you harder? cut you? kill you? you want me to put you out of your fucking misery in a dirty bathroom stall?"

everything hurt, your neck was twisted at an awkward angle, your head throbbed, and the friction between your legs was unbearable. he was right, you did want it to be over.

you wanted to go home and wash his cologne out of your ruined work uniform. you wanted to hold your head underwater until the scent evaporated from within your nostrils.

or go back to the time in which you were offered this job and refuse it.

or just not show up that day.

you'd wanted to call out that night, lie about being sick and binge watch trashy television. you wanted to reach an epiphany & snap out of it, trash all the magazines with Derek's fucking face plastered all over them, and kiss your daydreams of prince charming goodbye.

but most of all, you wanted him to get it over with and finish .

so you settled with appeasing him. because he's the one with the power. the money. the fame.

and the one with a knife to your throat.

you didn't care what it might take: you just wanted him to finish. but you didn't say that. you couldn't. so, instead, you managed to whisper,

"please - cum inside me."

the blade nicked you and you swear you saw your life flash before your eyes. the sick fuck was gonna gut you before he finished, you were sure of it.

but the searing pain, the warmth of blood cascading down the valley of your chest, the bright white light promised to you by kind eyed priests and mentioned in the prayers fallen from your mother's lips - never came. instead, you felt the harsh pinch of teeth clamping down onto your shoulder, muffling a strangled shout.

derek flattened you against the stall, rutting up against you. hunched over you, he unlocked his jaw and burrowed his face at the juncture where neck meets shoulder, panting condensation into your skin as he fucked his release into you.

against better judgement, your toes curled into the ridiculous, shiny flats your manager forced you to wear. a spike of. . pleasure. . zapped up your spine as derek's cock incessantly pressed against a spot inside you, throbbing and spurting so much cum it leaked out and dripped down your thighs.

you squeezed around him and there was a soft, whimpering moan.

you weren't sure which one of you'd let it out. but the sound seemed to sober derek up. he straightened suddenly, pulling away from you.

vertigo overtook you. he didn’t catch you when your knees gave and you collapsed. you heard the jingle of a belt, a zipper going up, then, you saw him step out and over you to push the stall open.

he didn't look back at you as he went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and wet his hands, slicking his hair back once again. you caught his reflection in the mirror: a soft flush against tan skin, spreading across his face, down his neck, and to his chest where his expensive, crisp, black dress shirt had been slightly unbuttoned.

his eyes met yours in the mirror.

and you wish you could say you saw something in them. disgust. contempt. lust. but there was nothing. it was as if he'd just seen a stranger in passing. he'd barely registered your existence, looked at you like one might look at the crack of a sidewalk they always pass by on their way to work.

not at all.

and then he was gone.

and a part of you wondered if you'd just imagined it. if it was all just some fucked up dream. you could've convinced yourself, too, if it weren't for the fact that you could still feel him inside you.

you were still crying, you realized, when teardrops landed on your cracked phone screen when your shaking hands managed to grasp it.

you checked the time through blurry vision. you were almost off.

you crawled to your knees and tried to push yourself up to no avail. your vision swam. and before you could register what was happening, everything faded to black.

you were out when the bathroom door opened.

one of the rugged men that were once seated at mr.goffard's table looked down at your crumpled figure on the floor. the man didn't say anything and simply closed the door. a few moments later, the bathroom door opened again. this time, the other man joined the first. without an ounce of hesitation, one of the men gathered your unconscious body and walked out.

no one noticed.

or no one cared to watch you get hauled away and into the shiny, black limousine of the goffards. you imagined averted eyes and anxious sips of wine of fellow restaurant goers as the footsteps of the country's most powerful men passed them by. clicking cutlery and knowing looks passed between couples. what would no doubt be the gossip on their way home back to their massive, lifeless homes.

the wife would say, "poor thing," as the husband unzipped her dress. the husband would hum. and that'd be the end of it.

nothing would be done.

and whether you're ever seen again or not doesn't matter because you'll soon be forgotten. and no one's risking their lifelihood for someone as insignificant as you.

after all, no one's ever dared to say no to mr. goffard's prodigal son.

#derek goffard #derek goffard x reader #tpof derek #art and characters by gatobob #i've never worked in a restaurant can u tell #hes so groddy i wanna eat him #oh to have your idol be a disgusting degenerate #never meet your heroes #but they never said anything about fucking them #tpof #the price of flesh #art by gatobob #gatobob #derek tpof

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callsign-bunnie · 7 months

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Restaurant AU Tweets (With new added characters)

Anyway, it was voted yes for it to be added to the taglist, soooooo

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

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bloodyknucklesforme · 7 months

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Unopened and Unended | Price x F!OC

So tell me now, where was my fault In loving you with my whole heart? - "Blank White Page" by Mumford & Sons

Eight years ago John made a mistake and now with this envelope from the lab in his hands he wonders if he's about to make another one

He poured himself another glass of scotch. She said she was on her way twenty minutes ago. She only lived ten minutes away. He downed his drink again.

The large manila envelope sat unopened on the counter. Guilt pulled on his shoulders. He'd built up a bomb and left it there, ticking away.

It felt like the right thing to do at the time. Steal a toothbrush during a dinner party, send it to a friend of a friend, get the results. He had the courage to do all that but failed to accept the consequences.

Eight years of not knowing. Eight years of missing out. Eight years of seeing his daughter being raised by another man. No, he didn't raise her. He left her shoved to the side.

He should have done something eight years ago when her mother sat next to him in his car and broke his heart.

"John, we have to stop." Poppy said. He could tell she'd been crying since she got in the car. He reached out to comfort her and she knocked his hands away.

"Does he know?" John asked.

"No. He doesn't know anything."

The guilt was getting to her. Cheating on her husband for months now. Meeting him in pub bathrooms and secluded parking lots. They were young. Him, twenty three. Her, twenty six. She was married young, fresh from uni to an SAS captain ten years her senior that promised her the world. He was rich, offered comforts John couldn't dream of.

William was an emotionally neglectful cunt who ignored her unless it was to fuck which she said was becoming more often. He wanted a baby but they were struggling. He'd been a bastard to her about it.

He was also John's superior officer.

"Pip, you don't have to stay with him." His mantra to her. He could take care of her. He wasn't rich but he had a modest savings. They could make it work. He wanted to make it work. It started with a soft kiss as he walked her home from the pub one night. He fell hard for her.

Her laugh, her paintings, the way her hair smelled. He hated William more and more each day.

"I do."

"Pip, you don't." He wanted to convince her. Leave with him right now. Let him take care of her. "I know you're not happy. I want to make you happy. Pip, please-"

"John, I'm pregnant." The air in the car felt heavier, it weighed down his lungs.

"Is it min-"

"It's his. It has to be his."

"Pip."

"I just need it to be. I need to have this baby. I need them to go to a good school and to not have to worry about their parents keeping the heat on. I need William to be the father because that's what best for him."

"Him?"

"He wants a son."

"What a cunt."

"John!"

"What am I supposed to say Poppy? Congratulations? You're telling me you're taking my child away!"

"They're not yours!"

"Seven years fucking him and you couldn't pop one out but six months with me and you're expecting."

"Fuck you."

"You already have." He snapped.

She started crying again. John's heart sank.

"Poppy, I'm sorry." He reached out for her and she flinched away. He let his hand fall to the center console. "I love you. I love that baby. I know I'm not rich like him. I don't have the family name or an estate. I'll work however much I need to send them in a good school. Private and everything. You won't have to work. You can paint all you want. I'll do it, Pip. I'll do it for you. Don't shake your head. You know I will. I love you."

"I'm sorry, John." She got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. He watched as she got into her car and drove away.

They'd barely had a full conversation since then. It didn't stop him from texting her in the following months.

He didn't meet Nina till she was almost a year old. The Irons' Christmas party. She could walk. They had her in a little frilly pink dress and she kept taking off her shoes. She walked right up to him and clung to his leg. Poppy gave him a worried look as he picked her up.

"You're lucky, Captain. Two beautiful girls." He forced a smile.

"Suppose I am." William was not as good of an actor as John was.

There was a banging on the front door. Poppy glared at him as he opened it.

"You're a fucking asshole, John." She snapped, forcing her way inside. "Doing a DNA test behind my back?"

"I have a right to know." He was trying to remain calm.

"What's your plan then? Destroy my marriage? I am happy now, John. William and I are happy. "

"It's not about you, Poppy. It's about Nina. She's not happy."

"You don't know anything about my family."

"I know she thinks her dad doesn't love her! I can see how she follows him around like a lost dog and he kicks her away just like one."

"He just doesn't get on with young children. It'll be different when she's older."

"So it's okay now is it?"

"Of course it's not okay!" She yelled. "But I am trying! I am trying to fix things before the baby. We're in counseling. He's spending more time with her. He-"

"You're pregnant again?" He looked her over more carefully. She had a small bump, nearly unnoticeable now.

"I am."

He thought about being cruel. Asking who she fucked to get pregnant this time. The words died in his mouth as he shook his head.

"Oh fuck off John."

"You see how he treats Nina and you have another kid with him? What if he still doesn't get the son he wanted? You're going to bring some other little girl into a house where she isn't loved?"

"Nina is loved!"

"By who?"

"Me! She's my baby! She's mine! She's mine, John! I grew her! I talked to her everyday, I painted her nursery. I had her, alone!"

He tried to hide his shock. He didn't know she was alone when she gave birth.

"I fed her. I changed her. I got up every night with her when she had colic. How fucking dare you say I don't love her. How fucking dare you!"

She was crying, running her hands through her hair.

"She came from me. I don't know if you're her father or not but I'm her mum. No one else. You can't take her from me."

"You think I'm going to take her away? Poppy..." He always pictured some sort of joint custody.

"All I have are my babies. If you come for her, he'll take this one away," she laid her hands protectively over her stomach. "I don't have money to fight in court. He will take my baby away."

"I wouldn't let that happen." He'd pay for lawyers for her. He was a captain now.

"You'd lose your job. You slept with your superior's wife. They will strip you of everything."

"I don't care about that. I care about her and I care about you." John would burn it all down for them. Part of him still loved her. Wished that he'd stopped her from driving away, got on his knees and begged.

Poppy shook her head.

"We were young and we were incredibly stupid. And it's not fair to you or her what we did. I am sorry that I have hurt you. I don't deserve any mercy from you but I am begging that whatever you find in that letter that it stays with you."

"If she's mine, I can't not do something."

"And what if it's wrong? Whatever sample you managed to get, wasn't enough. You sue for custody and then she's not actually yours. You will have destroyed my marriage, your own career, and you will hurt a little girl that already loves you. You will never see her again."

John leaned against the wall. The idea of a false positive never crossed his mind. He loved Nina. He was always confident that she was his, that part of him made her. But there were times when she furrowed her brow just like William. He'd still love her if she wasn't his. She was a good kid, sweetest little thing. He didn't know how he'd tell her.

"I'm not actually your dad's friend, I'm your real dad. Why haven't I raised you? Your mother and I had an affair. What's an affair? It's when someone who's in a relationship has a relationship with someone else."

He sighed in defeat. He grabbed the envelope off the counter and threw it into the trashcan.

"Thank you, John." She wiped her face. "I am sorry. Truly sorry."

He didn't respond, just stared into the bin.

"I loved you too and if I didn't get pregnant I would left him for you."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Pip."

"I'm sorry." She repeated. She left quietly some time after that.

John reached into the bin and pulled out the envelope. He went up to his office and unlocked the safe in the closet. He laid the envelope inside. It felt like throwing her away in a sense. He could tell himself he didn't need to open it, he knew she was his. If he opened it, she might not be.

He shut the safe.

He got a package a week later. A photo album filled with pictures of Nina ranging from when she was a newborn to now.

John cried as he flipped through it. Some pictures she looked like him. Others like William. More often than not though she looked like her mum.

He laid the album in the safe with the envelope. His little girl locked away from him.

When i said the Restaurant AU would be messy I fucking meant it. No one can keep it in their pants.

Price will tell himself he doesn't love Poppy anymore but was absolutely devastated when she died. Told her grave "I'll take care of our little girl. I promise. I'll take care of her." and then bought Nina a whole flat to live in, gave her a job, makes sure she's okay. Might even pay for her to go to that fancy pastry school in France.

Tags: : @water-bearz @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @macravishedbymactavish

#Captain John Price #captain price #restaurant au #Nina #Nina adjacent lol #Gaz x Nina: Childhood Friends AU

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