Alan Rickman Character One Shots

Forgiveness (🔫 NSFW)

~February 20th, 1981~

It had been five years since you stepped into the lobby of your old workplace, Nakatomi Plaza, for the last time. But you weren't there to party, no, you were an unknowing accomplice to the corporation's downfall.

You sat at a bar, a red dress hugging tightly at your hips, as it did every night. You no longer used your degree in business, you were a waitress at a high-class bar, not being able to step back into a skyscraper again.

You walked up to the table of one of the biggest crime bosses in New York. "What'll it be boys?" You asked.

They all stopped what they were doing to look at you. The boss smirked and took the toothpick out of his mouth, "Three shots of your top-shelf vodka doll. Make it snappy will ya?"

You nodded and walked back to the bar, putting their order in. Ricky, the bartender, "They're staring at you, (Y/N)."

You rolled your eyes, "I know." This was typical, "If they ask how much I am... tell them I'm priceless."

Ricky laughed and put the shots on your tray and you winked at him, going back to the table. "Here you are boys..." you set the shots down carefully in front of them. When you bent over they all tried to get a glance down your dress. "Will that be all?"

"Well yes... unless you can take a seat on my lap." The man said, his voice low and warm.

You forced a smile and giggled a bit, "Oh Johnny. You always know how to make a girl blush." You leaned over and kissed his cheek, it was good for business. Johnny hummed and rested his hand on your hip. You stood back up and smiled, "You boys behave." You said before sauntering off to the next table.

Disgusting. Ugh. Men and their ability to think with the wrong head. About an hour or two passed from that moment when your boss, Charlie Young, whistled at you. You walked over to his table and sighed, "Yes sir?" You sat beside him slowly.

"(Y/N)... you're sweeping the floor tonight. Quite enchanting." He smiled at you and draped his arm over his wife's shoulder. "But... I'm afraid I have to take you off the floor for a bit."

"What?" You sat up straight. You were making the bar so much money, not to mention yourself.

Charlie hummed and sipped his drink. "You have a visitor in one of the rooms." He pointed to the private rooms.

Your face went hot. "Charlie. I'm not a performer. I told ya that when I started working here."

Charlie shrugged, "The man paid me a million. I'll give ya half if you go in there."

You were dumbfounded. A million dollars? For you? Who the hell was this guy. "Five hundred thousand dollars?? In one night?"

Charlie nodded, "He didn't tell me what he wanted though. Good luck. Room Five."

You nodded and got up, you took a breath, went to the bar, knocked back a shot, and slowly walked to the room. You were nervous, your hands were sweating a bit. You straightened your back and opened the door. No one was in there. You furrowed your brows and took a step into the room. The door slammed shut and a man grabbed your hips roughly, a hand covered your mouth and something poked you in the back. You knew what it was. A gun.

You froze, not wanting to move. "Please..." you whispered, but it was muffled. You didn't know what to do.

The hand slowly slid off of your mouth, "Mmm... I expected more of a fight... he taught you better than that." A German man whispered in your ear. And as if you could get any more nervous. Your legs felt like jelly. You didn't even have to look at the man to know who he was. Karl.