#I’m just tired of local businesses complaining about not being able to find people to fill these jobs that require a degree when they don’t

[sadgirlautumn]

Job ads will say “we want someone with a college degree in ___!” and then offer to pay you $18 an hour… like you know a lot of fast food services pay $16 and promise raises even if you have zero experience and no degree whatsoever. $17 if you work the night shift… like be so serious right now.

[bokettochild]

Fic request! Legend and Ravio being best buds and being there for each other? Or like just them getting along. Platonic cuddling? I love them both.

Slight self projection on this one, but oh well!

I really like writing the dynamic for these two! But i would like to clarify that I write it as being strictly platonic.

Yes, Ravio does kiss Legend on occasion. But Ravio is a toucher, and that's just how he loves! For him, that's normal, that's something you do to those you love, not just in couples :)

Legend isn't great about physical touch, mostly because he's unaccustomed to it. He loves it, he just doesn't know how to ask for it or receive it most of the time.

And with that cleared up, on to the fic!!!

Mr. Hero was acting weird again.

His family had come back to visit again, and while many of them were wrapped in bandages and sporting some rather nasty wound, Mr. Hero seemed to be relatively well off from the fight. He wasn’t untouched, this was Mr. Hero after all, but he wasn’t as poorly as some of the others, which is why it was so odd for Ravio to find him curled up on the couch in their living room when he’d thought that everyone had gone to visit the local village.

They’d talked about it over breakfast. They’d arrived yesterday and hadn’t had time to restock in a while. The worse injuries were a broken arm on Mr. Smithy’s part, and that in no way hampered them from being able to do a run to the village, and it seemed many of Mr. Hero’s family saw visiting towns and villages as something of a treat.

They had been so eager over breakfast, talking over each other while Mr. Hero had rolled his eyes and pushed Tune- Wind back into his seat, scolding the champion for chewing with his mouth open and generally just correcting table manners and keeping people under control during the meal. Typical Mr. Hero, fussing over everything being right but pretending not to care, Ravio wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he sees them all they all eat like they’re in a castle, Mr. Hero’s just the kind of person to subtly train them all to behave lest they be faces with his flashing indigo gaze.

But he really would have thought, what with how everyone had chattered, that Mr. Hero would be with them all, leading them through the village and haggling with shopkeepers on the prices of potions and food. Yet here he sits, curled on their couch with that bulky quilt he likes so much thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Hero hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or tuck it under his cap, and it tumbles down his shoulders in a messy tangle as the Hylian stares unseeing at the far wall.

Ravio pauses in the entryway to the living room, his cup of cider still on one hand, and the book he’d been hoping to read in the other, heart torn over walking back into the kitchen and asking why Mr. Hero isn’t with his family. The slight shudder that runs across Mr. Hero's shoulders is all he needs as an answer and it’s without a second thought that the merchant strides across the room to settle on the couch beside his housemate, eyes bright and smile disarming as he looks over to Mr. Hero.

Dull violet meets his own green as Mr. Hero pauses and sighs, gaze shifting back down to the ground.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

No snark, no dismissal, no ‘Ravio, I’m not in the mood’. Mr. Hero is at a stage where he is simply accepting things, and that’s never good!

“Why the long face?” He prods gently, settling himself on the couch as Mr. Hero moves slightly to accommodate him.

Okay, that’s even worse. Mr. Hero is being accommodating.

Oh Lolia, is he dying?

“Enervated.” Mr. Hero drawls, and Ravio is now officially freaking out. The big words have come out, the big words that he doesn’t know the definition of. His gaze trails back over to his book.

Most people don’t consider reading a thesaurus a past-time, and Ravio never would have considered it before moving in with Mr. Hero, but if he wants to understand the hero than he needs to know all the words that will crop up in his vocabulary anytime he is especially tired or bored.”

“E-enerv-”

“Tired.” Mr. Hero clarifies, shifting in place and drawing the blanket tighter around is shoulders.

Sharp green eyes watch his movements. It’s autumn and a slight chill has pervaded the air, but there really isn’t any need for the heavy blanket in this weather. Maybe a shawl or afghan of some sort, but the thickest and heaviest blanket in the entire house? That’s just plain overkill!

“Just tired?” He doesn’t even bother pretending to respect Mr. Hero’s space as he reaches out to rest his hand on his housemate’s forehead, gently shifting to touch the vet’s cheek. Rather than shake him off, Mr. Hero gently leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed gently as a breath whistle from his lips. Ravio frowns as he pulls back.

Mr. Hero is warm, but not unhealthily so, and it can probably be blamed on the heavy quilt he’s got throw over his shoulders.

The merchant quirks a brow. “Are you cold?”

Mr. Hero’s face twitches oddly, eyes darting up to meet Ravio’s before drifting back down; blank and tired in a way they often are after a long day. But today has not been a long day, he reminds himself, and Mr. Hero must have been in here since finishing dishes with him this morning.

“Yes.” Mr. Hero murmurs softly, more at the folds of his blanket then at Ravio. “But not...outside?”

And that is... that is confusing.

“I don’t understand.” He half wishes for his hood and robe, but he’d only just finished cleaning and he hasn’t put them on again, so he plucks instead at the edge of his scarf, similar to what Mr. Captain Hero Sir does when he’s anxious.

Mr. Hero huffs a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Glad you don’t.”

He doesn’t like the blankness of Mr. Hero's face or the heaviness of his words. “Can you explain it to me?”

If there’s one thing that brings light into his friend’s eyes, it’s teaching. Mr. Hero loves to share his knowledge, and Ravio has sat contentedly through a dozen lectures on bee-keeping and orchard work or weapons care and traveling precautions and any number of other things. All he ever needs is a cup of cider and a warm nook to bundle himself away while Mr. Hero talks. Goodness knows he chatters quite a bit himself; Mr. Hero deserves to have an audience on occasion too, and he always has such interesting things to say that Ravio never minds listening.

But Mr. Hero’s eyes don’t light up with that glint of passion and his fingers don’t tap with barely contained energy. Quite the opposite. He curls in closer around himself, eyes clouded as he breaths heavily. “It’s like there’s somethin’ ‘side you that’s cold an’ empty. Like you swallowed ice or somethin’ cold like an’ it won’t melt. You can be toasty warm on the outside and it ne’er goes away, it’s jist-” The pink-haired Hylian’s ears flick as his nose twitches with pent up irritation. “It’s like you’re empty and no matter how much you eat or sleep or keep busy, it ne’er goes away.”

Understanding dawns with a heavy heart and tears pricking in his eyes. “I think that's called loneliness, Mr. Hero.”

Mr. Hero’s eyes glisten as he turns away. “’m not lonely. There’s eight people on my tail on the day to day an’ I can’t lose ‘em even if I tried.”

The tight ball Mr. Hero is curled into could be defensive or self-comforting, and he can’t tell which, but Mr. Hero's grip on his blanket laden shoulders is too tight to be anything short of strained.

“Being with people doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Ravio’s voice comes softer than he means it too.

Mr. Hero once complained that his own voice was trapped in the stage of squeaking and breaking, but Ravio’s could drop low ‘till it was nothing but a deep vibration. He’s teased Mr. Hero about it more than once, but he finds that it’s also effective at making the other boy calm. Mr. Hero loosens so now, eyes still blank as Ravio stares at them, hoping that they’ll turn to meet his gaze. “You can feel lonely in the middle of a full kingdom.”

He knows. He remembers hiding in his big room in the castle and wishing that it wasn’t so cold and empty and that someone would look at him and see something other than a cowardly advisor. He'd wanted someone to look at him and see a friend, or a brother or a loved one. He’d wanted to matter and be safe in the warmth that was a real home.

Mr. Hero gave him that. Mr. Hero’s house, with its big apple tree and buzzing bees, it’s pokey little kitchen and creaky staircase, the blasted rocker and the freaky masks on the wall, all of it makes this house a home that is so distinctly Mr. Hero's, yet somehow also his own.

He can see it in the knitting needles stashed in their basket by the couch. In the mugs that he’s left empty on bookshelves and table tops. He sees himself in the drawing of the curtains to let in sunlight, and the organization of the items on the shelves and the wall.

This is their home, something that is both of them, and it’s always felt warm and fulfilling to him.

He’d never realized that Mr. Hero might not feel the same...

It’s on impulse, and the fact that Mr. Hero doesn’t push him away speaks volumes, but Ravio scoots forwards and pulls the veteran hero over to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping tight around his friend as heavy breaths escape from them both.

“Is this better?” He whispers softly against the pink that curls beneath his chin and the fluttering breath of Mr. Hero.

There’s only a faint grunt from the hero in his arms, non-committal, but Mr. Hero isn’t complaining or pushing him away, so he doesn’t let him go either. Never mind that he’s almost pulled his friend on top of him, Mr. Hero needs a hug, and Lolia danggit! Ravio is going to give him the best one he’s capable of!

Mr. Hero’s breath evens out as he adjusts a few times, shifting but never pulling away, and Ravio takes that as a cue to make himself comfortable.

Short, pale fingers trail up to weave through curling pink locks that are still unbrushed from the night before. It’s silky under his touch, a testament to his friend’s alternate form, and he takes no small amount of pleasure in winding his fingers through it and gently tugging out the tangles. Mr. Hero only sighs under his ministrations.

“It’s okay to ask for hugs you know.” He teases softly, almost disappointed that he can’t see how his housemate blushes and stiffens, but Mr. Hero's ears give him away, red as they are, and a smile tugs across his face when he sees it. “I'm sure Mr. Chosen Hero would love to hug you, he seems like that kind of person. And Mr. Smithy always seems fond of that sort of thing. Why, even-”

“Shup.” Mr. Hero huffs, and Ravio grins as his eyes fall down to where his friend’s arms have wrapped around his waist, a messy head of pink lying against his chest and the full weight of hero and blanket pressing down on him.

He doesn’t respond, but he does go back to running his hands through Mr. Hero’s hair.

A tune comes to mind as he sits there, and he lets the melody drift through the room as he absently strokes Mr. Hero’s long pink hair, the book in his hands capturing his attention until soft squeaking snores begin to sound from the hero on his chest.

No one’s there to see the kiss he presses to the mess of petal pink, and when the others return from their trip, neither of the two bunnies is awake to say anything at all.

The heroes stop in the doorway, surprise and fondness taking over their faces at the sight of both of their hosts stretched out over the couch, Legend lying over the top of Ravio, one of the merchant’s hands still resting on Legend’s head while the other hangs down towards the floor, barely grasping the book he'd been reading (Wind makes a comment about reading a thesaurus being strange, but no one really questions it too much). Legend’s arms are still wrapped tight around Ravio’s waist, his cheek pressed against the merchant's chest as squeaking snores escape through parted lips.

They’ve never seen the veteran so peaceful, Time muses as he removed the book from Ravio’s hand and tucks the quilt tighter around the two, noting with surprise it’s weight. Neither hero nor merchant wake, although Ravio does shift in his sleep at the disturbance, but the two are out cold.

There’s the snap of a shutter and a faint coo as he looks up, single blue eye meeting Wild’s own, the champion smiling sheepishly from behind the slate, the image on the screen of him knelt beside the two boys, tucking them in on the couch. Time smiles at his cub. “I want a copy of that picture, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” The champion whispers in return.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Honeymoon Pt. 1: Friday

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cursing, age gap (reader is around 28, Lee is about 45 now) 

Summary: Following the events of Deadbeat, Lee surprises the Reader with the Honeymoon they never had. 

A/N: This is unedited and if I miss anything I should include as a warning, please let me know!

Series Masterlist

“Are you sure they’ll be okay?” you ask, watching as the house disappear from view from the side mirror. Lee took your hand in his and then brought it up to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You sigh contently, letting yourself rest into the seat.

“They are in good hands,” Lee reassured you. “They’ll run around, tire out the sitter and be in bed by the time we get to the cabin.”

“But after that?”

“It’ll repeat until we get back Sunday,” Lee chuckles. “They won’t miss us,” he jokes, referencing the fact your two sons were much more preoccupied with the cartoon on the television than the two of you when you had headed out.

You smile, and you know it’s just a long weekend. You deserve the chance to relax. Ms. Hanlon was more than qualified and you knew you left the boys in good hands. It was your first time away from them though, and that tugged at you.

“This is long overdue,” you smile, shaking the worry from your mind and focusing your attention to the trip Lee surprised you with. “Two children and no honeymoon,” you tease.

“Maybe we’ll get a head start on a third,” he jokes.

“Maybe,” you grin, biting your lip.

The two of you got married quickly, and wanted nothing more than to start your life together that a honeymoon hadn’t even been brought up as a possibility. Lee had taken on a lot of extra shifts lately and only last week did he announce he was taking you on your honeymoon.

“I wanted to take you on a trip for a while, sweetheart,” Lee explained when he was showing you the pictures of the cabin after telling you. “We can afford it now, and you deserve a break.”

“Lee, you didn’t have to do this, this looks so expensive,” you trail off, but he presses a kiss to your temple.

“You deserve it, baby,” he whispered, and then pressed kisses down your neck. “Putting up with me.”

The cabin was picturesque and it took your breath away seeing it in person. The log cabin sat far back into the Virginian woods, and all the snow that encompassed everything remained untouched like a blanket over everything. The snow at home was an annoyance, gross from cars and pedestrians and it hurt your backs to shovel. Here, it was magical.

The cabin’s roof was covered with shiny untouched snow and the rails also gathered up small mounds as well. You almost hated to get out of the car because you knew your footprints were going to ruin the scene. Both of you were bundled up in layers of heavy sweaters and bulky winter coats, and must have looked silly trying to walk through the snow with your overnight bags.

Kicking your boots off on the rubber mat that was in the entryway, the both of you laughed trying to peel off all of your outer layers. Your hats and scarves were hung up on hooks next to the coat rack. Once you were both left in just your jeans and heavy sweaters, Lee insisted on dealing with the bags later, urging you to just leave them in the entryway.

The cabin was homey, and smelled like firewood and pine. The small stairs led up to a cozy bedroom and the bathroom. The first floor with a kitchen built for two and a living room stocked with blankets and a stunning brick fireplace.

“Lee,” you mumble in disbelief looking around at the living room. “It’s perfect.”

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“And you hear that?” he whispers in your ear, and then presses a kiss behind your ear and then down your neck.

“No?”

“Exactly,” he replies and you can feel his grin against your skin. “No crying, no nothing, just us.”

“We should really unpack the food and put it in the kitchen,” you sigh, before his hands travel too far up your sweater. He pouts.

“I’ll do it,” he smirks, pulling you in for a kiss. “Wait for me upstairs.” You grab his and your bags of clothes and head upstairs.

The stairs led up to a spacious bedroom that was the whole top floor of the little cabin. You could hardly contain your excitement about being here that you hardly gave yourself a moment to take in the loft room. You quickly left the bags on the floor of the closet on the fair side of the room and then quickly stripped down to just your bra and panties to get out of the clothes that were wet from the snow outside.

The bed was covered in heavy blankets and pillows. Sliding under the duvet, you can’t help but grin at the feeling of the sheets against your skin. It felt so luxurious even though it was just a little cabin. You lay on your stomach and settle in to try to warm yourself up from the cold and you tug the blankets up to your chin. The cold felt like it ran right through your body and into your bones. The feeling of the warm blankets made a perfect contrast against your chilled skin.

Lee never thought he’d be able to pin point a time when he felt even more in love with you. Guilt would tug at the back of his mind, reminding him none of this was something he deserved. You and the life you made for him: the house, your two boys… how could he ever come close to giving you something that big in return.

He got the idea for the trip several months back. He sat at the desk in the back office at work, his eyes glued to the security cameras that were just fixed on empty hallways. It was one of his overnight shifts at the museum. He needed to let his eyes rest from the screens, and he decided to take a walk around.

He wasn’t ever one to pay attention or appreciate art before. He never had the luxury. But now, he liked to walk around the place when he could- gradually working his way through the whole building. He takes the same walk all the time, but every time he manages to find something different. The only sounds are the thoughts running through his head and the sound of his shoes echoing in the dark hallways. Of course, he’s thinking about you. You never complained but like him, you hate the nights you spend sleeping alone because of his work schedule.

He thinks about you, tucking the boys into bed alone. Then going through the steps of your own night routine and skin care, and how tonight he’s not there sitting up and already in bed watching you keep going from your vanity to the bathroom. You’d mumble to yourself, and get lost in the familiar rhythm of your routine while Lee is content to just look at you. You’d make fun at him for staring, but he doesn’t even care.

Wandering the hallways, he ends up at the information desk and notices, people left a bunch of catalogues and brochures scattered on the desk’s surface. He starts placing the brochures back in their proper cubbies and then gathers up the magazines to place them in the proper baskets. Without really giving it a second thought, he tucks one under his arm to flip through when he gets back to his own desk.

Flipping through the tourist catalogue, it was mostly ads for local businesses- restaurants and sights you and him had visited countless times already. He wasn’t really even paying attention to what he was reading, more so just skimming, until he saw the advertisements for the cabin towards the middle of the magazine. A two-page spread with pictures and convincing write-ups about the little getaway. Secluded and romantic, and just the perfect place for him to make up for the times lately he’s been away.

He couldn’t believe he had been able to pull off the surprise without you finding out, and the way your face lit up made all the extra shifts he had taken on made it all worth it.

“You sleeping, honey?” Lee asks, walking over to the bed as he kicks off his boots.

“No, just trying to warm up,” you answer, your face peeking out from under the covers. “You need to get out of those wet clothes, or you’re going to get sick.”

Lee nods in agreement, kicking off his socks and then pulling off his sweater. He untucks his tshirt from his pants before pulling it over his head and tossing it on to the floor with his other wet clothes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he chuckles, when he catches how your eyes are following his every movement. You shrug.

“You’re nice to look at,” you tease. He scoffs and continues to strip out of his pants until he’s left in just his boxers. He slides into the bed next to you, and pulls you close to him.

“Can’t believe we’re here,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry it couldn’t be sooner…”

“SHHH,” you gesture pressing a finger to his lips.

“You deserve so much more than me…”

“Shh,” you press a soft kiss to his lips. “That’s not true,” you mumble, sliding your hand down his chest.

He kisses you back tentatively, and cups your face with his hand as he turns on his side to face you. His other hand gazes your side and settles on your hip, pulling you closer as his thumb grazes the waistband of your panties.

He’d imagined the first night here to be much more frantic, rough and desperate. Now, he’s realizing that there is such a luxury of time here, and he can afford to waste hours with you just like this. He wants to take his time with you, at least for now.

He slides his hand further down your body and he grips the back of your thighs, and he practically kneads your skin there, massaging and just letting his hands feel the softness of your skin. You let out a soft moan, and he smiles. He swells with pride knowing after all this time, he still has this affect on you.

Your hands rest on his chest, and you can’t help but let your hands wander up his arms and shoulders and then up his back, and you feel him shiver at the feeling of your nails grazing his skin. He pulls away from the kiss, and ducks down to kiss and bite on your neck and collarbone. He moves his hands up to hold your back as he repositions you both so he’s hovering over you. You sit up slightly to reconnect your lips with his and he seizes the opportunity to unhook your bra and tosses it somewhere onto the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes.

“Beautiful,” he sighs, pulling you back in for a heated kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek gently, as his hand rests on your jaw. His other hand runs down your side, and you can feel how warm his hands are compared to your skin. You run your hand through his hair as his tongue slides into your mouth. You gasp when you hear the ripping of fabric.

“Lee!” You exclaim when you realize he just ripped your panties off. You watch with wide eyes as he just tosses the torn material behind him like he did nothing and he has the most satisfied smirk on his face.

“What is it, honey?” he asks, leaning down and whispering in your ear, sounding innocent. He kisses just under your earlobe gently, almost like his lips barely grazed your skin. “Tell me what you want,” he says, and you can hear the amusement in his voice as you whimper at the feeling of his hands squeezing the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“You want my fingers, baby?” he asks, inching his hands closer up and pressing little kisses down your jaw and neck as he rubs teasingly on your clit. You can’t help but moan, and your hips move in response to his touches. You whimper, desperate for more attention from him. “Or do you want my tongue, sugar?” he mumbles before kissing you again and letting his tongue explore your mouth. You are an absolute mess already. Needy and desperate, practically unable to hold still because of the way he was still teasing you. “Tell me, sugar. Let me give you everything you want.”

“Your cock,” you manage to let out breathlessly, tugging at the waist of his boxers, “Please, honey… Lee, I need you so badly.”

“I love you,” he exhales against your skin, pressing kisses down your neck and chest as he pulls off his boxers. “Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t tell you enough,” he groans, as he pumps his cock. “Fucking love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. His hands rest on the mattress so he’s hovering above you, and you moan as he presses into you. Your hands instinctively go to his shoulders and your sure you’re leaving little crescent indents behind on his skin. He knows your body so well and as he finds his rhythm; he can’t help but just mumble praises of how well you take him, and how beautiful you look.

He lifts one of your legs and rests it over his shoulder as he continues his movements, and you cry out at just how good he feels. He’s so captivated by you, the way your eyes flutter closed and you head falling back, the way your mouth gaps open at the sensation of his thrusts. He’s addicted to watching the way you react to him, even after all this time. He loves the feeling of moving to have your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and the way your fingers comb through his short hair. He loves the gentle and soft feelings of your palms and how that contrasts with the scratching of your nails, leaving red marks in their wake as you explore his back like you have a million times before.

“Lee…” you gasp, your chest rising and falling quickly, “I’m so close.”

He reaches down and rubs your clit as he continues his pace, and you moan at how overwhelmingly good his hand makes you feel. He can feel you, and the way your body responds to him, and he can feel how close you are. He doesn’t even think about himself, until he knows you finish. He’s chasing your high, kissing your swollen lips, rubbing circles on your clit and quickening his pace as he fucks you into the mattress. You cry out at the feeling as you cum, and at the feeling of your release, Lee’s follows.

He collapses next to you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tries to catch his breath. He looks over to you, wide smile spreading across his face as he looks at you in your haze of just pure bliss. He leans over and kisses your temple.

“I’ll run us a bath.”

Taglist:

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[katzkinder]

Little Drops of Water

Tetsu is his pride and joy.

It goes without saying, really, that his dear Eve is his greatest treasure in the world, and that the Item he has been given, one half of the set of four hairclips Tetsu used to keep his hair out of his face all throughout middle and highschool, are almost equally as dear to him as the boy himself. Long after Tetsu is gone, their shiny plastic, ocean blue, will last and Hugh will add them to his treasures. There they will remain alongside a young noble girl’s favored comb, a king and hero’s favorite embroidery (done by the steady and lovely hand of his wife), and… A peasant girl’s dress, carefully, lovingly preserved against the ravages of time, so delicate now that only the most trusted of his subclass are allowed to care for it.

Yes, Tetsu is his pride and joy, and yes, it goes without saying that Hugh holds him near and dear to his heart… But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t brag about him to whoever was fortunate enough to have to listen to him.

...Which is why the situation in front of him is so… Frustrating.

Now, call him a coward, call him a fool, call him a doddering old man… Perhaps he was all those things. But he was not so fool enough as to blindly praise working oneself into the ground, nor was he the type to give praise where it wasn’t due.

Tetsu was not the brightest.

He would admit this, albeit no longer to his Eve’s face. And while he would admit this, he would also much more readily sing Tetsu’s redeeming qualities. Tetsu was a hard worker. Tetsu was steadfast. Tetsu was loyal. Tetsu was a good listener.

Tetsu was all these things and more, but most of all, Tetsu was dedicated.

Which is how Hugh found himself acting as tutor, with his brilliant mind and sharp wit, while his dear Eve prepared for university entrance exams.

It was heartbreaking, though, how hard he worked. Not because Hugh believed he would fail, oh no, far from it. Tetsu might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was fastidious, and really, Hugh thought, the thing that held him back the most was his lack of confidence in his own abilities, to which Hugh proudly thought he had been quite instrumental in rectifying, if he did say so himself.

It was heartbreaking because… Sometimes, it felt as if the only one who believed Tetsu would succeed was Tetsu himself.

And Hugh, of course.

Now, don’t get him wrong. He didn’t believe Tetsu’s family meant to discourage their son. Far from it, they wanted nothing more than for Tetsu to succeed, and they supported him fully in his university career endeavors. Except, well, Tetsu had told him that he wanted to go to university for one very simple, but very heartfelt reason.

He wanted to save their inn.

The inn which… Tetsu’s own parents felt had no future.

But Tetsu and his iron will, of course, thought otherwise, and he refused to give up on the family business, the place he had grown up and loved and worked so very hard to help run, even as far back as before he and Hugh had met. It was charming. It was lovely. It made Hugh want to fight for him, more than ever before.

The inn was something that, even more than a contract with Hugh, Tetsu took Pride in.

So Hugh, in order to nurture that pride, in order to care for his Eve, would do everything in his power to teach Tetsu everything he needed to know to make that dream of his come true. To make their home, because that’s what it is, this place. This little inn is Hugh’s home now, too. It’s no grand castle, no stone walls or towers or awe inspiring, imposing structures, but he loves it all the same, loves the people who make it such a warm, wonderful place.

He wonders how he could have ever considered letting this place die.

Hugh knows the answer, of course. It’s because he was a coward, a fool, and a doddering old man.

He refuses to be that way any longer.

***

“Hugh. Are you tired?”

The Servamp of Pride exaggerates his yawn further, rubs at one of his eyes with a tiny fist, and mumbles that he is fine, he can keep going, let them continue the lesson. Tetsu frowns at him, adjusts the reading glasses he now needs (and he’s grown into such a handsome young man, Hugh thinks, barely able to keep the smile off his face to continue his ruse), and sets the heavy prep book aside.

“No, it’s late. What time is it?”

“Check your phone, my boy… It’s almost a quarter to eleven,” Hugh informs him, just as Tetsu makes a startled noise when he confirms as such with his own eyes.

“It really is that late… Hugh, that’s amazing. You never need to check a clock or anything.” He shakes his head, willing the distraction away. “Sorry. I should have kept a better eye on the time. Let’s stop for the night. I didn’t notice, but… I’m kind of tired, too.”

And just like that, Tetsu starts tidying his space, placing his glasses back in their case and his books back in his bag while Hugh goes to fetch their pajamas. His Eve pats his head when he returns, murmuring a quiet thanks while Hugh soaks up the attention in a way very few people who aren’t big brother are able to earn from him, and after that, it’s the rest of their bedtime routine as normal. Getting changed, brushing their teeth, rolling out the futon, and climbing in together, Hugh always forever tiny against Tetsu’s larger frame, forever his Eve’s favorite teddy bear.

It suits him just fine, and he chitters softly, contently, when he’s snuggled close, tucks his head up under Tetsu’s chin and inhales the scent of pine he finds there, that wafts from Tetsu himself and his futon each. It’s soothing. It’s home.

Hugh cannot allow himself to fall asleep yet, no matter how tempting it is.

He lies there, being held, being loved, and waits for Tetsu’s breaths to slow, waits for his arms to go slack, just a bit, because once Tetsu is asleep… His real work begins.

It’s easy to slip away. A bat in the night, easing the door to Tetsu’s room open and swooping out into the halls, a wandering pet no one will see in the dark and no one will hear, silent as the beat of his wings are. He pauses, only briefly, when passing by the front desk where the lovely spouse of Tetsu’s elder sister still diligently works, greeting Miyako with a swoop and a cheep. She smiles at him, bids him safe journey.

“I’ll leave the lamp on for you. Take care, Hugh~”

A charming young lady, and she treats Tetsu well. Hugh can’t say he disapproves of her, even if her family is one he could do without. Of course, he never says as much, neither to her face nor to Tetsu’s.

That would be rude.

...To All of Love, however, he will gladly complain.

***

Hugh does not return until hours later, when the moon has passed its highest point in the sky and is on its journey back down to the horizon, chased by creatures neither he nor humanity can see, and yet, if you had asked him once, he would proclaim for certain that they were there.

Now, though, science tells otherwise, and he mourns the loss of that mysticism of the past at the same time he celebrates the inventions of the future, because it is only through the inventions of the future that he is able to monitor what needs to be monitored, and complete the tasks that need to be completed.

Such as keeping up with the local subclass, not all of which are his.

It is… Exhausting work.

Tokyo is a large place, and even without the Melancholy vampires to look after, knock on wood that it stays that way, even without Lust subclass, godspeed to All of Love, the number of them in Tokyo is staggering. Most of them are his, yes, and he does not regret granting them new life, no, never, not one bit, but… Well. Some of them need more assistance than others, and between tending the inn alongside Tetsu, studying, and this, his schedule is just… Completely packed full.

He wouldn’t trade this mind numbing feeling for the world. Not after they worked so hard to achieve what is still, unfortunately, an unsteady peace, but it’s an unsteady peace that has allowed his siblings and his subclass to prosper. To be happy, and healthy, and it leaves him puffing out his chest, tired but proud. Tired but happy.

Hugh would do even more if it were asked of him, he thinks as he sits to start putting together more flashcards and mnemonics and memory games, pens and books and note cards spread out in front of him while he lies on his stomach and gets to work. He would do even more, do whatever he could, if only to secure Tetsu’s future even more surely than the rising of the sun.

Because Tetsu is his pride and joy.

And as his pride and joy… Hugh would make certain that his Eve could rest without a single ounce of guilt.

Sleep well, my dear. The future is yours.

[fuckyeahscienceparty]

Fighter (Lover)

Call me fighter, I'll mop the floor with you

Call me lover, I'll take you for a drink or two

You'll get older, and maybe then you'll feel some control...

-

HOO longest thing i've ever written lads :V hope y'all enjoy! title/description based on fighter by jack stauber bc i thought it was very fitting lol

-

Engie let out a strangled yell as he finally managed to land a solid hit on RED's Spy with his wrench, the familiar sound of crunching bone and the squelches of blood that accompanied it filling the air and splattering his overalls in French flavored crimson.

Not a very pretty way to die, and he almost felt bad for the fella, knowing from.... rather painful experience how excruciating it was to go through respawn after having your skull caved in. But almost was the keyword here, especially considering the fact that the bastard had unfortunately managed to sap both his dispenser and his sentry in the process, leaving him not only vulnerable to his fellow REDs but without the resources to actually get things up and running again.

What was extra unfortunate was that before he could get to either of them, they'd both managed to practically destroy both affected buildings, causing his dispenser to spark and sputter to a halt and his sentry to explode, sending components and pieces of shrapnel flying everywhere and barely giving Engie a chance to shield himself while hanging on to less than half of his health points.

Great. Just great.

He let out an annoyed grumble, anger rising in himself as he began to at least attempt damage control by basically tearing the sapper off of his dispenser with his bare hand. He didn't even care about all the little metal bits in his skin that tore through his shirt and were starting to make blood ooze out, staining his already sullied uniform. What he cared about was making sure that RED didn't take their final point and not having sentry up, even if it was just a level 1, was going to make that exceedingly difficult.

That being said, if he made it out of this alive, he was gonna have a field day getting all these stains out he mused to himself as his pried open the side panel of his dispenser. He reached for his toolbox, rummaging around for his wire cutters, twist on connectors, and a new set of wires to replace the ones the sapper had fried as he heard a chorus of bullets being fired from somewhere around the next point over.

He frowned. Those were much closer than they were 15 minutes ago. Better pick up the pace.

With a deft hand, he pulled out the wires and snipped out all the unsalvageable ones, tossing them in his toolbox to properly dispose of later. Twist on connectors wasn't exactly a Good fix to all the problems he knew that damn shock box had caused, but it would be good enough to last him until the end of the round.

...He hoped, at least.

After making quick work of the internals and closing the panel back up, he flipped the switch back on, waiting a few agonizing moments before the dispenser beeped at him a few times and whirred back to life.

Engie let out a weary sigh of relief as it slowly started healing his wounds, giving it a couple whacks with his wrench to get it into somewhat working order. It may have been knocked back down to level 1, but hey, at least it actually started up again! Finally, he had one thing was working in his favor!...

...But only the one thing. Now was the issue of getting his sentry back up, and with his dispenser back at level 1, just waiting around for metal wasn't exactly going to be an option this time.

After scanning the battlefield a few times, a disgruntled noise escaped him. Pyro was nowhere to be found. Just his luck. He grumbled to himself more as he picked his dispenser up and moved it to where he thought it would be at least a little less visible so he could go search for an ammo kit himself, keeping a hand on his pistol and his wits about him as he ventured into a nearby building.

He hated to leave any of his buildings unattended without Pyro around to cover for him (usually in return for a joyride into town the following weekend along with the sugariest fruit flavored item they could get from the local candy store), but he really didn't have the time to sit around and hope for the Chance that they'd 1). be in his field of view and 2). not be too busy to play guard dog for 5 or so minutes (5 minutes they could very understandably use to set some REDs running for the hills. or a fire extinguisher).

And as much as he would love to just waltz into BLU's resupply and pick up all the things he needed with little to no effort, he was currently stationed at second to last and the time it would take him to get there and back would be more than enough time for the REDs to not only destroy BLU's hopes and dreams but also to give way for his teammates to complain about how he hadn't been there to defend them.

(As if he wasn't doing enough for this damn team already.)

So taking a gamble with getting an ammo box was objectively his best bet at the moment. Was he happy about it in any metric? Absolutely not. Sure, he knew his way around the place and he actually knew that the building he was currently in housed the largest ammo kit you could find out in the field, but he also knew that other people knew that too. And that meant that there was a very real chance of running into one of them and not only failing to defend BLU's points and having to put up with his teammates' negging but also dying and gettin sent through respawn in the process.

But that's as if anything was really going his way today.

He hopped up the wooden stairs two at a time, knowing that the ammo kit was somewhere up on the top floor. He'd actually passed by the Medkit on the first and as tempted as he was to heal himself up a little, he also knew that any more time he wasted in there was time that could be used getting a sentry back up.

When he'd reached the second floor, the ammo box was just where he expected it to be, sitting next to a window that looked out over the battlefield, giving him a front and center view of BLU's second to last point. He could just about see a sliver of his dispenser, silently relieved that it was still there. From what he could see, RED and BLU were still fighting it out over the mid point, both teams having captured and then recaptured it several times already, only for the other to take it back.

Currently, it was still BLU's but something told him that if he didn't hurry, that was going to change soon.

He quickly scooped up the ammo box, eyebrows furrowing when the top of it came off with relative ease. Odd. You usually need to do at least a little prying with these suckers to get the tops to pop off. He then rummaged around in it to make sure it had what he needed, confusion deepening when he realized that there weren't any syringe cartridges in the box.

And that's when he heard a slight rustling from somewhere just out of his peripheral vision.

He immediately dropped the box, bullets and miscellaneous parts spilling everywhere as he turned around and reached for his pistol.

However, he ended up getting a spray of syringes to the arm, letting out a strained cry as he instead grabbed his pistol with his other hand and randomly fired it in the direction of where the syringes had come from.

His guesswork was pleasantly met with a very loud "FUCK", his eyes finally focusing on a very irritated looking RED Medic who now sported a bullet wound in his non dominant shoulder.

"You wanna dance? Let's fuckin' tango, buddy," Engie muttered mainly to himself, only just about bearing the pain as he tore anywhere from 4-7 syringes out of his arm and dropped them to the floor.

He tried to shoot his newfound opponent again but his bullets made splinters rather than punctured flesh, Engie fully aware that his normally serviceable aim was probably off thanks to the searing pain in his... well, everything, cursing under his breath regardless.

However, before he could even process what to do next, the enemy Medic made a dive for him, the two of them tussling to the floor and struggling with each other for the right to end someone's life.

Engie was able to momentarily able to wiggle his arm out of the other's grasp, managing a solid hit on RED Medic's face that he was pretty sure ended up breaking his nose.

That really only seemed to make him angrier though, the two of them continuing to wrestle it out until Medic finally managed to come out on top, having practically straddled Engie's chest as he pinned down both of his arms to the ground. The both of them struggled to take in air, Engie still making feeble attempts to escape his captivity with little success.

If this weren't a life or death situation, he probably would've told RED Medic that he was rather handsome, even with a broken nose and blood dripping out his mouth and onto Engie's shirt. Truth be told, Engie had always thought him attractive and if the two of them weren't enemies by uniform color, he probably would've asked him if he wanted to go out for a drink some time.

But even if life or death prevented him from attempting to woo the man who he'd just shot, Engie couldn't help but be immensely frustrated with himself, eventually just letting out a wheeze of defeat as he gave out from exhaustion.

"Just- just fucking do it please, I'm really not goddamn having it right now," He growled out, causing RED Medic to squint and tilt his head at him. After all, it wasn't every day that your enemy practically begged you to off them after they (quite understandably) just tried to strangle you.

"Hey, Stitches, you hear me? Just cut my head off or steal my organs or whatever, make my godawful day into an even more godawful one," He reiterated, Medic unable to suppress a chuckle despite how tired he was.

"Sorry- steal your organs? Do you really think I'm going to do that?" He grinned incredulously.

"Dunno. You just seem like the type," Engie said dryly, Medic letting out a cackle.

"Well just because you made me laugh, I'll make this quick. You don't seem particularly happy right now," Medic vocalized, shifting so that he could pin both of Engie's arms down with one hand and reach for Engie's pistol that had gotten knocked out of his grasp in their scuffle with the other.

Stronger than he looks. Engie couldn't tell if his heart beating faster because he was literally about to die or because an item was added to the list of "reasons why I want to take my enemy out to dinner."

...Might be both.

"Golly gee, what gave that away?" Engie deadpanned, feeling the muzzle of his own pistol pushing against his forehead. RED Medic chuckled again.

"No hard feelings, right my friend?" he smiled at him, almost apologetically. At least Engie thinks it's apologetically. Kinda hard to tell with all the blood that wasn't in his body.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself.

"Nah. None at all."

...

BANG!

...And not even 20 seconds later, he suddenly materialized in BLU's main respawn room, immediately grimacing from the skull splitting headache he was saddled with; the unfortunate side effects of being shot in the head. Respawn could only do so much, after all.

He moved to open the resupply cabinet to just get what he needed and get the hell out of there before he was startled by the intercom crackling to life, Engie's stomach sinking when he heard the very familiar "YOU FAILED" accompanied by almost comically sad music.

Had he really been gone that long? He didn't even hear the Admin announcing that mid had been capped, let alone second to last, and surely he would've heard it even if he was being held up by RED's local handsome devil.

But his teammates slowly filing in with various injuries seemed to confirm their defeat, Engie sighing as he reached into the cabinet for a bottle of aspirin instead of a case of bullets.

"Hrr Mrnrph!" Pyro mumbled out as they made their way in, Scout with his arm around their shoulders for support as he hobbled in as well.

"Yo, Engie, where the hell were you?" Scout frowned, clearly peeved about losing that day's round.

"Yeah, maggot, we thought you were on second to last! Their damn Scout somehow slipped by us and ended up capping both of ours after RED capped mid again," Soldier added, Engie sighing. Of course this was going to be blamed on him.

"Sorry, fellas. Spy managed to sap both my sentry and my dispenser and their Medic got me when I was tryin' to get supplies. I was hoping y'all would be able to hold mid long enough for me to get back but that. Obviously did not happen."

"Oh, so it's our fault now?"

"Hey, I'm not sayin' it's anyone's fault, I'm just sayin' that they got the best of us today. We'll give it another go tomorrow, like we always do."

Scout obviously seemed unhappy by the notion but decided it best to shut his trap when Demo gave him A Look because even Scout knew that Demo was not one to fuck with. Engie knew he didn't actually intend real harm, he just tended to run his mouth with things he didn't necessarily mean. Didn't make his life any easier, though.

"Listen, I think we've all had a long day. Let's just get patched up an' relax before tomorrow," Demo interjected, the rest of the team making various sounds of agreement as the final members of their menagerie made their way in.

As he walked past, Medic gave him a conciliatory look that Engie could only give him a knowing smile in return for. They both knew what it was like for the entire team's failure to be blamed on their shoulders alone. Usually it was Medic who received the brunt of it, especially when he'd just been transferred in, but Engie was no stranger to complaints on his off days about how he should've been better or how could've done more.

It made him want to tear his own ears off. Not only because it was annoying as all hell because you didn't see him out here blaming the entire team's loss on one damn person's slip up, but because it was the kind of shit that he told himself when he was younger and it brought him back to times he didn't necessarily want to remember.

He was suddenly brought out of his brooding by Pyro walking up to him, Scout seemingly having limped his way back into base on his own.

"Mrr rrhrrh hrrph phr nrr rphmm hrr rr phrrhrrk phr rrr," They mumbled out sadly, holding their arms out to offer an apology hug and very much looking like a kicked puppy. Engie let off a soft "aw."

"Shucks, Firefly, it ain't your fault. Can't expect ya to baby me all the time, can I?" He joked, pulling them in anyways. Only a monster could refuse Pyro hugs, after all.

Pyro squeezed him tightly, nearly lifting him off the ground despite the fact that they were only a couple inches taller than he was as Engie was momentarily overwhelmed with the familiar scent of kerosene and singed rubber.

When they finally let go, Engie gave them a gentle pat on the head.l

"You go inside now, hey? I gotta check if my dispenser's still out there and you probably got your own injuries you should have Doc look at," He told them, Pyro nodding at him and giving him an affirmatory wheeze. They then gave him another quick squeeze before waddling their way inside, boots squeaking every so often.

Engie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Oh well. Nothing he could do now but prep for tomorrow.

He sat in respawn for a little while waiting for the aspirin to kick in and only decide it was time to get going when he finally felt like his brain wasn't trying to squeeze itself down his spinal cord.

After making the trek to second to last, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his dispenser was still on. And also there at all.

(To be fair, RED and BLU had been fighting over mid for so long that RED's Scout probably hadn't bothered to destroy what wasn't shooting at him in a desperate attempt to end the godforsaken match already. He couldn't say that he'd blame him.)

He was also surprised, though not as pleasantly, to see someone waiting for him. Specifically, someone in glasses and a tie that, even though it was covered in blood, had a face that was both painfully smug and oddly endearing.

Though they were technically now in ceasefire until battle tomorrow, he still instinctively reached for his pistol, blinking and looking down when he realized his holster was empty.

"I believe you're looking for this?" RED Medic asked as he picked said pistol up off of his dispenser, Engie nodding cautiously.

"Relax, dummkopf, I'm not going to shoot you. The bullet that was in your head was actually the last one in the magazine anyways," Medic snorted, demonstrating by pulling the trigger while pointing the weapon to the ground and coming up with nothing but empty clicks.

Regardless, he still offered it to Engie butt first, Engie himself still wary but a little less hesitant as he took a few more steps forward and took it in his hand.

"Apologies. I actually meant to put it back into your holster before you went through respawn but I didn't have adequate time. You pack quite a punch," Medic smirked lightly, Engie's attention suddenly being drawn to his still broken nose.

He grinned sheepishly.

"Heheh, yeah, mama taught me well... No hard feelin's though, yeah?" Engie sticking his pistol in its place and his hand out to the doctor, Medic letting out an amused huff at his own words being used against him.

"No hard feelings," He assured, shaking Engie's hand.

"I should probably be off now, I can practically hear my gaggle of idiots begging me to heal their boo boos from all the way out here," He then snorted, Engie letting out a chuckle.

"All good. I should prolly get the ol' girl back to the workshop. Damn sappers always do a number on the internals," He grimaced, thinking about all proper rewiring and circuit board replacement he was going to have to do, not to mention normal maintenance and cleanup.

"As I've heard. Our own Engineer has some particularly... colorful words on what he thinks of your Spy."

"Bit of a wily bastard, that one. Can't say I blame him," Engie shrugged, leaning against his dispenser for support and suddenly feeling face flush as Medic did the same, the two of them now so close that their elbows touched in the middle.

If Medic noticed, he didn't immediately let on, merely smiling at him.

"That we can all agree on, I think. What is it with Spies and deciding to be bastards? Is it a profession thing, does it just come naturally to them?" He said mirthfully, leaning in close enough that their noses were close to touching.

...Never mind, he absolutely noticed.

"'s gotta be, right? I mean, it's the only explanation for why they're all so dickish. That or the ones we've been in contact with just happen to be persnickety lil fucks," Engie grinned, Medic laughing loudly in response.

It only made him grin even wider. Medic's laugh had to be in a class of its own. Borderline obnoxious in nature but somehow brash and unapologetic while still being absolutely ridiculous.

Man, was it just something to die for (which he.. technically supposed he did).

"Ah, look at me, babbling about. I really should get going before I waste any more of your time," he said when giggles finally stoped threatening to rise out of his throat, Engie feeling a sudden pang of disappointment in his chest. He merely waved him off with a soft "shucks, weren't nothin'" as he tipped his hat, Medic giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"It was nice talking with you, Herr Engineer. Perhaps we can meet again some time," He smiled before turning to make his leave.

Engie closed his eyes. This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, don't do it, don't do it Dell, don't FUCKING do it-

"Hey, uh. Stitches."

Medic paused before turning around again.

"Are you... free this weekend?"

An amused glint suddenly appeared in Medic's eyes.

"Well seeing as we all have weekends off, yes, I should be. Why do you ask?"

"You, uh. You wanna grab a drink with me, this Saturday, maybe? I know this pretty good place not too far out and uh. I dunno, 'd be fun to uh. See ya again outside of work, I guess," Engie stumbled out, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

"...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot," Medic smiled, Engie's face lighting up.

"Great! Uhm. I uh, I guess. Meet me on y'all's second to last at about 6? I know how to avoid all the cameras, so," Engie offered, Medic raising an eyebrow at him.

"...Hey, when you live out your days fighting people to the death for an old dinosaur who would skin you alive and turn you into the coat given the chance, finding out where her cameras and all their blindspots are isn't that much of a hassle. We're actually in one right now. Wouldn't've asked you out otherwise," He shrugged, Medic holding his hands up in response.

"I'm not one to judge. Whatever gets me out of playing team mama for the night. I'll just tell them I joined a book club or whatever. And if they don't believe me... well I think a saw to the skull might convince them," Medic said, suddenly pulling out his Ubersaw with a malicious grin.

Engie had to physically restrain himself from saying "hot" in response.

"Heheh, yeah, I bet it might. I'll uh. See you later then," He coughed out, moving to put his dispenser into compact mode and pack it back into his toolbox.

When he stood up with it resting on his shoulder, however, Medic was standing right in front of him, nearly causing it to slip out of his hands.

Medic barely stifled a laugh at his shock, gently removing his hardhat and leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

"It's a date then," He hummed cheerily before putting Engie's hardhat back on his head and making his return to RED, leaving Engie with his hat slightly askew and his face moderately flushed.

And that's when if hit him. A date. He had just asked his actual, literal enemy who had shot him in the head about 30 minutes ago, on a date. And he said yes.

He didn't know if he wanted to scream, punch something, or throw himself off a bridge. Probably all three, if he was honest.

Despite all that, he practically forced himself to turn around and begin making his way back to BLU, readjusting his tool box every so often so it wouldn't slip out of his hands. What the hell was he doing, breaking contract like this? He means sure, he wasn't particularly one for rules anyhow, he's pretty sure he's committed more than a few atrocities against the heavens in his lifetime, and the Admin wasn't always on his case for every little infraction he'd ever made anyways. But between her and God, it was the Admin he feared more and he knew that if there was one rule that the she enforced, it was that cross faction relations were NOT tolerated and were more than a warrant for termination.

Termination of contract or termination of your life? Depended on how nice she was feeling that day.

Needless to say, he was very frustrated with himself.

But then he remembered how drop dead (haha) gorgeous Medic was even when he was bleeding all over Engie's shirt and the way hearing his laugh had made him felt and the way that glint made it look like he had stars in his eyes and...

...Aw hell, if he was going to get fired (or die! both was very possible) for this he might as well go down after having had a good time.

Now all he had to do was make it to Saturday. While also not giving anything away.

Piece of fucking cake.

[thelemmerpie]

You look at your watch, and the same question since the beginning of the school year crosses your mind.

Why having classes on saturday morning?

Everyone is tired, except the teacher. Everyone will have to work this weekend. Students never have a vacation, only stolen time paid from sleepless nights.

Whatever. Since you know Mandy, your saturdays to you two are as free as possible and almost nothing prevents you from seeing each other. Every week, you end up in your favorite italian restaurant for a dinner, often accompanied by a night of pleasure in your flat, or hers. Even if it's still impossible for you to live with each other, spending the weekends together is not uncommon. So much that she has clothes and toilet stuff in your appartment, and vice versa.

You thought about her face floating above a table, lit by candles. It perfumes your spirit and you quickly forget the courses. Gracious, her smile revealing so cute dimples, her long and willowy hair tumbling down like a waterfall made of the most sleeked mirror on her oppulent chest, more or less revealed according to her mood...You're already on a cloud only by thinking about her. The day is beautiful, your eyes closes while you're smiling, and nothing can lift you out of your contemplation.

-Mr. Johnson seems already on weekend. Unless he's still in dreamland?

Almost nothing. The comment is as striking as a bucket of iced water. You turn your head to the old vulture who serves as a teacher. The bun as tight as her thin pinched lips, she looks at you with eyes ready to throw lightning. You stutt.

-Sorry mam'. Tiredness.

-Think about sleeping at night, young man.

As if you could afford it...This first year of master's degree in plastic arts, sculpture course, is more exhausting than expected.You wish you could rest your head every night on Mandy, which is impossible. Since she obtained a bachelor's degree and works on the other side of the city, she had to take a flat. You, you stayed on the campus. Life is good inside it, but not as much as with her.

The rest of the class is deadly boring, but you strive to make as many notes as you can. Finally, after what seems like hours, the old harpy frees you by asking you to return a project for the next time.

You turn on your phone and the notifications appears. Mandy sent you a text. You open it right away, hoping for a soft message to wait until tonight.

"I'm sorry, I have to cancel dinner tonight"

A fleeting moment passes, then an immense disappointment falls like a hawk on his prey (and on your heart. And on your libido). This is not the first time that one of you cancels at the last moment, but it's always unpleasant. Nevertheless, you decide to not hold it against her, even if it saddens you.

"Too bad :'(  All you alright? I miss you so much ".

The answer doesn't take long to arrive.

"Yes, I'm fine, but I really cannot go out yet."

She doesn't give you more details, which worries you a bit. Usually, you immediately tell to the other the reasons for the cancellation. You are puzzled, but you trust her and don't insist.

"If you need anything, I can go to your house tonight. Shop, or anything else. What about pizzas and a movie on the TV ?"

"Yes ! That would be wonderful, and much better ! If I can't go out right now, I can at least let you in ~~ I'm sending you a list."

It's autumn, but the heat persists and the blue sky makes you want a sandwich. You would like her to be there, by your side, lying in the still soft green grass, but she never liked the heat for a simple reason : finding suitable clothes to go out in such heat is almost impossible. Not because of being overweight, no. At least, not all over her body. It's a very local overweight: a macromastia.

As a teenager, her chest was already growing at an impossible rate. At 17, she was competing with the most buxom models you'd ever seen. Since then, her chest continues to grow steadily. Every four months, she is forced to buy new bras. Whole boxes of old underwear hang around her house.

She learned to do with it. As soon as she's back home, she unravels the torture instrument to free her chest. If it excited you at first, it fast becomed as common as taking off your shoes. Ignoring her chest is clearly impossible, especially when it jumps in all directions. But the moments you prefer are those quite ones where you are together to the couch, watching TV while behaving and more if you're in the mood. These moments are still too rare. You hope this will change one day. In such a big city, your respective obligations separates you and if you get closer, it would be your obligations that would be too far from you.

You sigh. In just over a year, you'll be able to live together. Her father has promised you a job in his molding company, and he already considers you two as married. Maybe you'll even be able to take up his business later. A clear path, a good job, a dream girlfriend, and a lovely family in law. It's well worth it to endure on saturday mornings with the vulture and work like a madman.

You finish your sandwich when your phone vibrates again. It's Mandy. A short list is displayed. She doesn't need much : food, some medicine...And new bras.

There, you frown.

She bought some two weeks ago, and they were already costing a fortune, in addition to being horribly uncomfortable. Having a big chest is considered as chance, but the bad sides can be counted easily : besides the expensive and inconvenient underwears, you can cite the look of others and the lustful solicitations from complete strangers when you go out in the street.

And yet, you've never seen her complain. No back pain, a body of foolproof flexibility, and an amused satisfaction when she surprises the eyes of others dive into her deep cleavage. She likes to seduce as well, but has always looked for someone who would consider her as something much than a toy for a titfuck. Her breasts didn't leave you indifferent, but you quickly became interested about her to the point that even naked, you can discuss with her as when she wears a triple layer of thick clothes, in autumn and winter, the only seasons where she can go out without problems. Her two favorite seasons have quickly become yours as she feels comfortable.

And yet, what a pair !

You could carve it from memory on pink marble, with all the details that her body offers. Round, no, a little oval. Glossy, smooth, plumped in her clothes, looking like a silicon bag that other women implant themselves. Except that she's natural. It's so unlikely that many people find it hard to believe, at the point that "fake boobs" yeled loudly always been an insult. Harassment, she knows that. But she has always been proud of her body, and you have always been proud of her. People talk, you live your love, that's enough for you two.

You keep thinking about your sculpture. Her tits would be nothing without gravity, of course. A challenge, to account for a chest so beautiful, so full, but that falls so little. Languid into the lustiness of her own pleasure, as she is after love. She's like her chest: proud, but so smoochy when she loves...

And the nipples, of course ! Small, discreet, as cute and innocent as infants. Two small chicks hatched by two aerolas, soft hen mums. Everytime, you vacillate between kissing them softly or sucking them. Everything in her is so perfect that to soil her would be a crime, if she wern't agree to welcome you near her and into her.

Nevertheless. New bras just two weeks after buying other is strange. Have they broke ? With a chest like hers, nothing surprises you anymore.Those before were worse than grandmother's bras. Thick sackcloths, oversized sports bras, with braces stretching out day after day, until her breasts overflowed and compressed her too much. A sexy photo later, you left to buy others. Shopping with her is always a pleasure, even if shops providing sizes at her convenience are increasingly rare.

You call her, and her voice soon rings in your ears.

-Hello, Danny ?

-Mandy, sweetie, I got your list. Had you not...already bought new bras recently?

It still gets you to be embarrassed to talk about her breasts, sometimes, and you must carefully prepare your words in order to not blush. You prefer to look at them and touch them, in silence, without any other noise than her pleasure moans.

-Sorryyyyyyyy ~~ . But I can't do otherwise. I can't go out with the old ones, it's getting worse and worse.

-Better and better, you mean ?

-For you, yes.

-And for you too. I know you love your breasts.

-Stop, she said, laughing. Or I could cancel the pizza tonight.

-You wouldn't dare !

The indignation in your voice is falsely exaggerated, which makes her laugh once again.

-If the handsome and brave knight carries out his mission and goes shopping, maybe the princess will send him a foretaste of what awaits him...

-An antipasti before the pizza, hm? I'll be curious to see what you're making...

-First, shop. I will prepare everything for tonight.

You're about to say goodbye to her, when a genius idea comes to you.

- What if I buy candles?

- What for?

- You know...candlelit dinner?

- For delivery pizzas ? No thanks. And then, I'm lazy to do the dishes. They have grown so much that I start having back pain...

-Really? In this case, prepare your oils for a long and good massage.

You hear hear murmuring with satisfaction.

-Very well, brave knight. If you manage to kill the hunchbacked dragon, the princess will offer you more than an antipasti.

-It's a great honor you give me, my lady.

-Come on, hang up. The shop will not make it himself.

- See ya, sweetie.

-See ya, cutie.

You hang up, a smile on your lips. Never in your life had you had such spars with anyone before. Each of her words brings you joy. Hurry the day you move in with her : your happiness will be complete.

But now, groceries. Your phone is vibrating again. It's a text sent by Mandy.

"I called Georgina this morning, you just have to take the package and pay. It's a huge lucky break, she has just renewed her supplies and agreed to take back those of two weeks ago. I will repay you".

The advantage of being a loyal and regular customer for out-of-the-ordinary clothing is that the ladies around the globe forms a small private club where they can discuss and exchange advice and services. The shop she usually goes to is far away, but it's a warm one and the woman who holds it is super great. Georgina, the manager, is a little old woman as wrinkled as an apple and had the same chest problems. She quickly decided to help women like her. If the bras remaines expensive, she gladly takes over the old ones to retouch them. She's even made customized tailor-made. But as long as Mandy's breasts will continue to grow at a breakneck pace, it will be useless and she clearly told you that : "I should take new measurements immediately after my work is done. I'd never seen that ! Go on like this, my little one, and congratulations, young man ! "

The shop bell tolls when you enter into it. Some times later, Georgina comes out of the back shop and greets you, delighted as you go forward the sale desk.

-Ah, Daniel ! I received Mandy's message. This girl beats all records, I made a new storpile just for her ! Only two weeks, and you'd think she took six months all at once !

-Thank you, Georgina, this is the first time that happens ...

-Tell me about it ! I've never seen that ! Fortunately, I have a good contact in England. Tell her to slow down, she never listened to me! It's not like you're not already happy with what she have, huh?

You try to show a neutral face, as every time Georgina talks about your relationship. Some grandmothers are discreet, but the old seamstress would be able to collapse buildings just by talking. Like every time, you fail and can only display a shy smile.

- I'll tell him, thanks. How much do I owe you?

The old woman sweeps the air with her hand and rejects the imaginary money.

-Nothing ! We'll see that when she returns the others. Knowing her, she didn't even touch it. She made her measurements, but I put her several sizes just in case. She will only have to bring me back as soon as possible.

-Thank you so much for your generosity. Without you, we don't know what she would do.

-Bah, we have to stick together! It was even worse when I was young.. Corsets that choked you even more than the things I'm selling today ! I say, I can't wait the day we can go out without it, half naked, like you men, without being attacked at every street corner! It's not Mandy that would bother ! Beautiful melons as big and as firm as the pectorals of my late husband !

You agree, but you don't know what to say. You may have an empty look, because Georgina allows you to leave.

-Ah, you men ! Go find your beauty and make us beautiful children, it will make my pleasure !

-Yes Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am.

You leave the shop, a second opaque plastic bag in your hands. Even through it, you can feel the fabric of the cup. The more Mandy's breasts grow, the less they seems thick, padded, comfortable. As for the shoulder's straps, they must be tight to cut off her skin. You can't wait the day she'll be able to wear custom made bras for her ease. You send her a text.

"I have groceries and bras, Georgina didn't charge me and she added several sizes just in case."

The answer is quick to arrive.

"Really ? Wonderful ! I'm gonna jump on her neck when I see her. How long before you get in?"

"An hour, I just went out"

"Too looooong..."

You strat to write, but another one appears.

"Here's a little something that will make you want to come even more faster..."

A few seconds later, your reward appears on your screen. It's been a while since you're used to her chest, but your mouth is opening and it takes little to make you drool.

She never sent photos of her completely naked, preferring provocation in exciting clothes. Sometimes she sends you her pretty face. Sometimes full body in a simple, wise, accompanied by her long hair that always makes you fall in love with her when you gaze at them. This time, they are tied over her head, revealing her neck, shoulders and thin arms. She seems to come out of the shower, a few drops still bead of her soft skin A new pair of diving breasts, with monstrous cleavage, overflowing beyond a towel about to explode.

You totally understand the need for new bras. At sight of the nose, only the widest will fit.

And sh's only 21 years old. And she has not finished her growth yet.

In size, yes. Not in cup size.

A new text appears.

"Have you choosed your pizza yet ?"

"I don't know, I'm in a mood for a snack right now. A stuffed sandwich, if you know what I mean ;-)"

“I thought you was in a romantic mood ? Candles of for lightning, not for BDSM, we agrée ?”

"You're impossible, as your jokes"

"No, I'm real. Why don't you touch me, if you don't believe ? I'm still waiting for my brave bra knight ;-) ".

The bus is here. You close your phone, ranks right at the bottom of your pocket so that no one can suspect your activities, and you sit down in a quiet corner. 

Something tells you that you will not have time for eating tonight.

__________

Model is MandaDawn, on Patreon and Onlyfans. That photo is clearly not the best, from two or three years ago when she was on tumblr, but I don’t know why, it inspired me with the force of a train. I barely touched her story since her breasts are effectively still growing, for an actual X cup.

[daretosnoop]

Chapter 1: The body in the Entrance

Here is it guys!

So, I changed the order of some event around to fit better with plot pacing. Also, I extended the mystery beyond one night because that gives me nothing to work with. 

I know I said that this is a romance between Henry and Nancy, but it’s not going to really be that because: 1. Who falls in love over the span of 4/5 days? 2. Henry can’t just go from one relationship to another 3. I have a hard time believing in quick love/relationships. I need foundation, and it’s reflected in my writing. 

I plan to continue the series beyond CRY, and build their relationship. So if you don’t ship, don’t worry, you can still read this.  I suggest listening to the soundtrack while you read to enhance the experience!

Had anyone asked Henry Bolet what love was, he would have had no answer. No honest answer, that is. Love was a parent’s devotion to their children. But his parents died when he was young, and their will somehow declared his father’s brother, Bruno Bolet, as a fit guardian. Love then, must be the desire to look after someone. But Bruno tossed him around from boarding school to military school. Summer and winter breaks were the only chance Henry got to see his uncle, but as he grew older he learned to use his sparse vacations more wisely. At twenty-five, he supposed he couldn’t complain much. Bruno never hurt him. He ensured Henry was clothed, fed, educated, and safe.

But surely, Henry thought, a person could expect more than Maslow’s base level of needs?

That was all life seemed to teach him. If you’re able to stay alive and keep moving forward, be thankful and keep your mouth shut. Be good, be quiet. And Henry was good. He performed well in school. And he was quiet. He silently bore the bullies, the snickers, the shunning. It paid off in military school where his silence was applauded as patience and he was promoted to officer at a young age and expected to delegate arguments. The nub of anger in him, an anger that appeared on the night his parents died, screamed at his fragile backbone. Its voice molded with the voice of his superior officers, commanding for attention among other orders. With so many years being called private Bolet, corporal Bolet, sergeant Bolet, and officer Bolet, Henry almost forgot his name. It wasn’t until he met Summer at a random bar that he remembered.

She sat by him while his fellow soldiers mingled with the other soldiers. It was their scheduled night out and the soldiers wanted to go to the bar. Outnumbered, Henry had no choice but to agree. To disagree would lead to a lack to trust and camaraderie, especially with him. So he sat somewhere dark and quiet in the bar, hoping no one saw him till it was time to leave. But like her name, Summer’s warmth crept into his corner.

“Hey there,” she cooed. “What’s your name?”

“Bolet” came the automatic reply.

“Oooh a cold one are you? Don’t worry. I don’t bite”. She nudged him a little and Henry could smell the alcohol oozing off of her.

“Henry,” he muttered after a long pause.

“Hen-ry”. She played with his name, brought it to life. “I’m Summer”.

Henry nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Why don’t you join the other men? They seem to be having fun?”

“On duty”.

Summer’s eyebrows perked as she took in Henry’s response.

“So you’re not drinking?”

“It’s not my thing”.

“Ooh, a cleanwhistle,” she edged closer towards him. “A proper soldier”.

Henry said nothing. He could feel Summer’s gaze on him and didn’t know what to do.

“Come join us,” she spoke suddenly and got up, pulling him with her towards a group of people. They quietened when he and Summer approached and she introduced him as the “officer in charge”. It got a few chuckles, but Summer’s face showed pride. Henry didn’t say much, didn’t have to. Summer talked for the both of them, and the other members of the group seemed to have no problem with his trepid responses. Excitement, a rare emotion, flowed through him as he listened to the conversations that flowed through the drinks. It didn’t help that twice Summer gave him a peck on the check. She ordered more drinks. Henry paid for the first one, but then cut her off in concern. A chorus of coos went around the drunk group as Summer proudly declared him as “a good soldier”.

“My good soldier,” she whispered to him and Henry let himself fall.

  It was Summer who persuaded him to leave the military.

“What will I do then,” Henry asked.

“Don’t worry,” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you”.

She suggested taking up a degree in accounting. It would be a 180 from the military, but the analytical side would be familiar. Henry considered letting his uncle know of the changes he was making to his life, maybe even introduce Summer to him. But Bruno never responded to the letters and emails Henry sent, nor did he pick up the phone. After a while, Henry just stopped calling. And anyway, there was no need to be concerned. Summer’s decisions were always right. She didn’t attend college, but she worked in the local café. Since she couldn’t accompany him, she suggested he stay and work in the café. After all, most freshman were too busy enjoying their youth to offer any real friendship, and since he was older than the others, it would just be too awkward for him. So he spent his free time in the café. He allowed her to crash in his apartment and picked up her slack.

Summer would often complain about her coworkers, her parents, Henry, even herself. The more time Henry spent with her, the more he saw how tired she was. She was often too tired to help out and frequently disappeared for days at a time. Henry was most worried about those days because she never bothered to let him know when she was going or for how long. Whenever he tried to bring it up, she would snap at him, exclaiming her need to discharge from the world. He tried to explain it to her, how his parent’s sudden death made him a little paranoid.

Summer listened to him. She then held his hands and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not your parents. Get over it”.

So Henry got over it.

Now, two weeks from graduating, he stood in front of the Bolet manor struggling to get over his uncle’s sudden death. Summer had scoffed when Henry informed her of his uncle’s death. She didn’t understand the point of attending the funeral of some estranged relative who barely cared about Henry.

“He took care of me Summer”.

“So?” she exclaimed.

But when she saw that, for once, Henry would not be persuaded, she rolled her eyes and let him go with an aggravated sigh. A permission he thanked with a shopping spree.

“Just come back when you’re done Bolet,” Summer said as she left for her parent’s house.

  It was at the funeral he learned that Bruno had made him executor of his will and also dedicated thirty percent of the estate to him. It was no measly figure. Bruno Bolet’s house was of average size, but his estate encompassed the cemetery plot that belonged to the Bolet family. Even the ten percent that Bruno’s housekeeper was to get landed her a pretty sizable fortune. It was the housekeeper, Renee Amande, who welcomed Henry to the Bolet manor and showed him to his room. The house was very clean, which was all Henry could think of saying as she led him to his room.

“Of course it is. I keep very high standards,” She turned and looked straight at him. “Though Mr. Bolet was an eccentric and disorganized man, I always ensured he lived in a clean home and ate regularly. You don’t get to 98 single and alone”.

“He seemed quite content to live alone, from what I know of him,” Henry said. He couldn’t help snapping back. The anger he held had started to ebb out during the funeral and Henry had no outlet for it.

Renee stared at him. Her eyes roved around his figure, taking in this so called nephew of Bruno Bolet. She didn’t trust him. He certainly played the role of a Bolet very well with his eyeliner, painted nails, and what looked like a fishnet glove on his right arm. But what nephew never met or even called his uncle? Renee entered into Bruno’s life when he was in his sixties and he spoke very little of his family. Oh Bruno prided himself in the Bolet family’s eccentric personality and their history with New Orleans’s ghosts, but he always held Renee and most others an arm’s length away. But New Orleans was linked to the Bolet name.  

The Bolets started out as gravediggers and worked their way up to undertakers. Everyone, both living and dead, knew that if you wanted to be taken care of in death and the afterlife, you came to the Bolets. The family owned the largest cemetery in New Orleans and everyone took advantage of that. Taxi drivers who picked up the occasional ghost rider would drop them off at the cemetery. They would usually find a dollar for their trouble, though it never covered the fare. It was an unacknowledged law that the construction of any infrastructure had to have the approval of the Bolet family. Progressive or not, no one wanted to anger the ghosts of New Orleans.

Yet here stood the heir of the largest cemetery. The next Bolet set to inherit the role of his name. Renee knew from Bruno that the Bolets erred on the side of melancholic, but Henry’s aura radiated cynicism. That boy is trouble for you Renee.

He didn’t object to her desire to stay until the will had been properly sorted. He didn’t object to staying in Bruno’s old room, now stripped of life. He didn’t even object to her carrying on as a housekeeper. But something was off with the boy. At first she though it was grief. But the lack of connection between nephew and uncle made her assume greed. The boy kept staring at his phone with a dark frown on his face. At breakfast, he only nibbled on the blueberry cornmeal pancakes. When she showed him Bruno’s study, Henry just grumbled and set to work. Renee always took pride in Bruno’s workplace. It was a perfect blend of Bruno’s eccentricities and the Bolet’s prestige. But seeing Henry sort through the numerous papers that decorated the dark oak desk, Renee couldn’t help but feel disgust.

He doesn’t deserve any of it.

  Summer had been endlessly calling Henry since he landed in New Orleans. Frustrated and stressed, he put the damn cell on silent. But the missed calls piled up until finally, his phone died on him.

Thank god, he thought, then immediately felt guilty. Summer was just concerned about him. He didn’t even notify her that he landed and attended the funeral. He slept fitfully in a bare room and had no appetite for the breakfast Renee kindly made for him. He didn’t even get the chance to thank her for the pancakes when the landline rang and Henry was pulled into conversation after conversation. Everyone swooped in like vultures, desperate for a piece of the Bolet wealth. From last payments for furniture to unfulfilled I.O.U.s. Bruno Bolet had a lot of money and a lot of places he threw his money. Thankfully, it didn’t look like his uncle was in debt, but the mess he made of his finances made Henry nauseous. How could anyone be so careless on the things that mattered?

The first thing Henry did was grab a trashcan and clear out what seemed irrelevant. Advertisements. Confirmations and thank you for attending parties. Some random info on skulls. And an envelope from a research institute. Rubbish. As both executor and inheritor, Henry was caught in making sure Bruno’s will be carried out, but also in ensuring that no one swooped in and took something without permission. He also had to deal with Bruno’s remains.

After the cremation, Bruno wanted Henry to bury him in the Bolet garden. Where exactly, the old coot never specified. After roaming around a bit, Henry saw a red-eyed vulture sitting atop a shrine. Below it, there were four other red-eyed vultures. Suddenly a gust of noises crowded his mind. They whispered words, some of which Henry barely heard. Am I losing it? He should have been terrified, but whether it was a lack of sleep or the start of insanity, Henry found himself at ease with the whispers. They surrounded his presence and grew louder as he approached the vultures. Here…Here…Here, they urged and as Henry looked around the shrine, he saw a pot hole with the name Bruno Bolet on it. But how to open it?

The pot hole was shut and no matter how hard Henry tried to lever the lid up, it remained fastened to the ground. Taking a closer look at the pot hole, Henry noticed a lock design. So, it needs a key? But where was he supposed to find a key in Bruno’s mess? He sighed and gave up. He’d just figure out some other place to bury his uncle. The whispers cried out as he left, but fell silent when he approached the double doors of the study.

 That night, the whispers came into his room. They swarmed around him, chattering. Tittering whenever he sprung up from the bed.

“Go away,” he shouted.

They shivered.

“What do you want?”

Skull… man… skull… find… man… arrives

Henry flopped back onto the bed. He didn’t have time to chase after the adventures of some Skullman. Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe his uncle’s death was affecting him more than he anticipated. He wasn’t unnerved by their presence. They felt like meeting an old friend, not that Henry knew what that felt like. The only person he had was Summer. Speaking of which, Henry reached for his phone and saw that Summer had called again, numerous times. He sighed, then called and prepared for the onslaught.

“Hen-ry!” Summer’s high-pitched voice spoke through the silence of his room. Immediately, the whispers become silent and Henry could feel their presence leave the room.

“Hey Summer. Sorry about not calling you before. It’s been hectic.”

“God, Henry you’re such a jerk. You couldn’t even call me one time to check-in on me? Don’t you care about me?”

“Course, I do. How are you doing Summer?”

“I’m bored. My parents are working and I have nothing to do”.

“Didn’t you mention that you made plans to go to the beach with some friends? That’s why we bought those swimwear outfits”.

“Yaaa, but what can I do if my friend suddenly decided to bring along her boyfriend? Do you know how lame I look saying I have a boyfriend but not bringing him along? See how inconsiderate your uncle’s death is?”

“Sorry about that Summer,” Henry replied weakly. He never really figured out what to say to Summer when she got angry.

“You have to make it up for me,” Summer demanded. She sounded serious and Henry knew that a stubborn Summer was an uncooperative one. Still, he tried.

“Aw, come on Summer”.

“No buts, Bolet!”

“Alright, alright,” Henry said, trying to pacify her.

“How about I get you some CDs? That way you can listen to them until I finish around here?”

Summer was silent for a while and Henry held his breath.

“How long will you be gone for?” she asked.

“I’ll get you enough CDs for two weeks. How’s that? That way, if I finish early, you get extra CDs for another time?”

“You’re really pushing it Bolet”.

“I know. I’m sorry”.

“Just hurry up!”

Saying so, Summer hung up on him and Henry dropped the phone to the ground.

  There was a local antique store in the old French quarters. The owner, Lamont Warrick, didn’t hesitate to introduce himself to Henry at the funeral and procure a business card.

“For anything you deem useless, just toss it over to me”.

Henry didn’t have much on him. It didn’t help that Renee seemed to always keep an eye on him. Between the whispers and her unexpected presence, Henry didn’t know which was worse. Honestly, he was so close to snapping at her to just get it over with if her intent was to kill him. Her badgering presence was something he didn’t want to deal with. He didn’t know from where he was supposed to get the money to by the CDs Summer wanted. He only had a debit card on him and the stores only took credit. He cursed himself for never applying for a credit card. He never really needed it seeing as uncle Bruno and school took care of everything. It wasn’t until he left with Summer that he had to really take care of himself.

He didn’t need much, just enough to get the CDs and pay for shipping to Illinois. He knew it was wrong, illegal even. He could be forfeit from his inheritance. He would be a hypocrite for sure. But if he didn’t do this, Summer would be mad at him, and if Summer was mad at him—he didn’t want to continue that thought. So he grabbed a box and quickly chucked some clutter from Bruno’s room. The faster he did it, the less he would have to think about what he was doing. Giving Renee a quick excuse, Henry shuffled out of the manor and headed towards Zeke’s curiosity shop.

Lamont gave Henry a friendly hello and perked his eyebrows when he saw the box. Lamont felt bad when he saw Henry Bolet for the first time. He knew Bruno Bolet well. The man spent a lot of time at his curio shop, and frequently bought items. His housekeeper, Renee also frequented the place. But Bruno was the one who truly admired Lamont’s collection. In Bruno, Lamont found an appreciator of junk. The discarded bits people didn’t want, or had no place for, all found home in his curio shop. Bruno often invited Lamont over to see the Bolet manor, so Lamont knew that the house was a trove for antiques.

Lamont once asked Bruno who would get the house and the artifacts upon his death. He supposed some people would take the question as insensitive, greedy even, but Bruno understood what he was really asking.

“A relative of mine would inherit the majority”.

Seeing as Bruno was already hitting his 80s, Lamont assumed the relative was older. But when he saw the relative, this Henry Bolet, as a young man, all sympathy burst forth. This Henry was younger than him. Lamont had heard that Henry’s parent’s died when he was only eight. Bolet news spread like wildfire in New Orleans. Bruno would have been his only other relative. To have him die too. Lamont knew it was wrong. The young man didn’t seem to want company, but business was business. If he didn’t want comfort, maybe this Henry would understand business.

“Didn’t take you long to stop over,” Lamont said as he eyed the box. “Didn’t bring much either”.

“This is just a small sample. I’ll bring the rest later”.

Lamont was confused. People didn’t decide to sell a small portion of their junk and save the rest for later. It was usually a full overhaul, especially when death was the cause. Most just wanted to shove off the remains of the dead, as if they were scared of the memories the junk contained. Henry himself looked distressed, as if he was in a hurry.

Lamont perused through the box. Some old photographs. A locked box, and what seemed to be a top hat and skull costume. He’d often see Bruno wearing the top hat. It would sell. The box would also sell. But the rest would be hard to pitch to customers. No one really wanted the photographs of an unknown person, or their letters. Lamont sighed.

“Your uncle died 2 days ago, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“Well, let’s just say that in my experience, people don’t bring in things to sell 2 days after someone dies. Also, they don’t bring a small box”.

Henry became very quiet and Lamont continued.

“Hey man, I’m not judging you, but I’m assuming that you need cash fast”.

Henry gave a stiff nod.

Lamont sighed again. It was common in his business for people to quickly sell off something they assumed was junk when strapped for cash. He never bought anything from them. If they got caught, he could also get into trouble and Lamont had a family to worry about. But this kid, he looked so, so naïve. He clearly had no idea what he was doing.

“Look, I can’t buy this”.

Henry’s face fell.

“But,” Lamont continued. “Here’s what I will do. How much do you need? Hundred bucks?”

“Two hundred,” Henry muttered, then scowled. He couldn’t Lamont in the eyes.

That’s nothing, Lamont thought. But the kid looked so worried about it.

“Okay, so let’s say this. I give you the two hundred. I’ll even take this box and make a receipt for you if it will make you feel better. But, in exchange. When you actually go through your uncle’s possessions, you invite me over and let me have first pick over the artifacts. I take two hundred dollars’ worth with me. Deal?”

Henry nodded and Lamont rang up a bill.

  A couple days later, after dealing with an endless amount of callers, Henry pushed it all away. Slowly Bruno’s estate and finances were sorting themselves out, but Henry needed a break. Feeling perky, he offered to treat Renee out for dinner.

“About time I saw some Southern hospitality in you, young man”.

Their plan of enjoying the May breeze in the French quarters at a local café was ruined by the onslaught of rain. Henry apologized to Renee, but it was clear that the woman blamed Henry for the rain. They ate in silence and returned back to the manor to see the front door open.

“Did we have a break-in?” Henry exclaimed.

“Oh dear. This is highly unusual to happen in New Orleans. Normally it’s so safe, we needn’t lock doors,” Renee wondered.

Henry turned towards her.

“You didn’t lock the door?!”

“No dear. Like I said, it isn’t necessary”.

Henry pointed to the door.

“Yes, I can see how unnecessary it was”.

Renee eyes flashed.

“No need to take that tone with me, young man. I am not speaking nonsense”.

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why was he bothering to argue with someone who made huff-puff hoodoo powder in her free time? It didn’t help that the whispers came back to him. They followed him to that curio store, screamed more like it, as he ‘sold’ the junk. They were screaming now.

Skull… man… skull… man… fall…

Henry massaged his forehead.

“Let’s just infiltrate and assess damage”.

As both he and Renee stepped into the house, Henry caught the sight of footprints. One wet and small. The other muddy and large. The muddy one indicated that it’s owner had long left the house, but what caused him concern was that the smaller foot prints only went in one direction.

“Be careful Renee. I think our thief is still inside the house,” Henry whispered.

“Understood,” Rene whispered back, eyes watching the floor and mirroring Henry’s thoughts.

They stepped cautiously into the foyer and Renee reached for an umbrella. Smart, Henry thought. The thief might be armed. It would be best for Renee to arm herself. Henry clenched his hands into fists and tensed, ready to throw a punch.

When they stepped into the living room, Renee let out a gasp and dropped her umbrella. In front of them was the award-wining cemetery model Bruno made a long time back. Below the table, and splayed out, unconscious, at the centre of the living room was a young woman.

[katblu42]

I have tossed up whether or not to post this, but I've decided to just go ahead and see how it lands. It is very personal to me, and I'm posting it because today is 2 years since I had to say goodbye.

This is basically a rambling vent that came out after the most traumatic period of my life so far. I needed to write it all down, chronicle it and get it out of my head, and the original destination for it was (my other) fandom.

It is more detailed than the story I posted earlier in the week, but it requires all the same warnings for some pretty unpleasant stuff. Please take heed before continuing.

Warnings for Death Illness Hospital Cancer (Medical) Drugs Medical Procedures CPR

Deep breath Late in 2018 my husband, S, began complaining of a sore throat. He's the kind of male who won't go to the doctor unless he is literally dying. He finally went to his GP in January and was told there was an issue that needed more investigating. He was supposed to go back to the GP in 2 weeks, but we were on holidays then, so he ended up not going back until mid March. GP sent him to a specialist, but the earliest appointment was early April. Consultation, camera down the throat and $400 later the specialist says Cancer - two of them, one in the mouth, one in the throat. Next appointment is the biopsy. By now S has lost almost 20kg because he struggles to eat (and because apparently Cancer can do that to a person anyway). Now there are appointments at the local hospital with the Radiation Therapy Dr, the specialist in Chemotherapy and a dental team (who wanted to take all his back teeth out at first, but changed their minds when they saw where the mouth cancer was, and how hard it was for S to open his mouth wide). During all this I'm still juggling work commitments as we are building up to one of our busiest periods, which covers pretty much the entire month of May. I'm sharing appointment chauffeuring duties with his Dad. It is decided that due to S's weight loss and difficulty eating it is advisable to put a feeding tube (that they call a peg) in his stomach. This is basically a precaution in case he can no longer swallow anything at some point during early treatment. Surgery after Chemotherapy begins will be difficult to recover from. As it turns out the peg is never actually used for feeding S. The first cycle of Chemotherapy begins on Wednesday 8th May. The plan was to do at least 2, probably 3 cycles of Chemo and then begin combination Radiotherapy/Chemo. At first things seem to be going okay. Three medications are administered as part of the Chemo - 2 are done on the Wednesday at the Cancer Clinic, and the third he has to carry around with him for 5 days, returning on Sunday to have the rig removed once that one is done. The peg starts leaking during these 5 days. He is given advice over the phone not to worry about the leak - but I wonder about that advice. I can't be with S all day - work is busy, and he's a grown up who can ask for help if he needs it. Only he's the kind of male who will not make a fuss if he's feeling "not okay". By Tuesday (14th May) S is not feeling much like "eating" - which consists of swallowing soft stuff like milkshakes, jelly (jello), custard and the like - and I basically have to force him to go for a walk around the block with me, just to keep him from lying on the couch all day. (Tuesday is my regular day off). He seems okay, in the "so-so" sense rather than the "fine" sense. He's not particularly nauseous, just a bit Blah. Wednesday - while I'm at work - S stays home all day, which is unusual for him. He is a social butterfly who can't resist going across the road to the Bowling Club just to sit with his mates for a bit. The peg is still leaking, and he feels tired and a bit yuck. By now I have asked him a few times if I should be calling the hospital for advice and he says no - doesn't want to make a fuss. I don't stress too much because he has an appointment at the hospital on Thursday - it's with a Social Worker, but I know that he will be at the hospital, where they will ask him how he's feeling, and if they think he needs something they will take care of him. Thursday comes and he doesn't want to get out of bed. I go to work, telling him to make sure he gets to his appointment, even if he doesn't feel like going. His Dad calls me at lunch time and tells me S didn't go to the appointment. He got in the car, they got down the road, then S told his Dad to just take him home. His Dad tells me S doesn't look good, he thinks S should be in hospital and I wonder why he didn't take S straight there if he was that worried. I get home just after 5pm and S is in bed feeling miserable. I don't get much of a good look at him - the room is dark - but he talks

to me. He's not feeling nauseous, not throwing up, but also not eating or moving much. Over the next few hours he's up and down to the toilet at least once an hour. I ask if he has diarrhoea, because if he does I should take him to hospital. He says no, "not much is coming out". It's after 10pm, Thursday 16th May, when he calls out to me from the bathroom. Something about the way he calls out makes me get straight up to see what's wrong - normally I yell back "what's wrong?" or "just a minute", but this time I think I had an instinct that said something was wrong. I find him sitting on the toilet, slumped forward with his head between his knees. He can talk to me at this point, but I have to help him sit up - he really can't move - and his skin is quite yellow (which alarms me). By the time I have him sitting upright he's not talking to me any more, his eyes are only half open and not blinking and he can't squeeze my hand. I run and get my phone and call an ambulance. Now his breathing is laboured, and as the emergency call taker is asking me to "say now every time he takes a breath" his gasps are getting further apart. I have to get him clumsily onto the floor of our tiny, narrow bathroom and give him chest compressions. 2 ambulances are on their way. Minutes later I have 4 ambulance crew members working on my husband in our tiny bathroom, and I have no idea what is going on. By midnight S is in emergency at the local hospital, and I'm in a private waiting room, alone. I call my Mum - I've already called his Dad on my way to the hospital in my car (they didn't take me in the ambulance). It's about 12:30 when a doctor comes to talk to me. Infection. Kidneys and liver struggling. Blood pressure through the floor. No white blood cells. This is by no means good. By the time I get to see him in Emergency I have my Mum and his Dad with me. S is basically in an induced coma and about to be moved up to ICU. It's about 1:30am. Once he's moved to ICU we wait in another waiting room for more news. A surgical consultant comes and sees us - I think it's nearly 3am - she says surgery is not an option. The infection is in his digestive system. There is no clear area to surgically remove, and his system is so weak it would not take well to surgery anyway. S's Dad leaves soon after that. This is hard for him. It was only 3 years ago that he was here in this very ward with his wife. This is where she passed away after an infection she just could not fight. He tells me "don't let them put him down" - I guess because he had to make that decision for his wife/S's Mum. I think it's after 6:30am when I decide to go to the intercom and buzz the nurses station to find out what's going on. They let us in to see him. All they can tell us is that they are throwing every kind of medical support they can at him in the hope they can help him fight off the infection - blood products, meds to raise the blood pressure, antibiotics. He's been ventilated through a tube in his mouth since the ambulance. They have to run a heating vent to raise his body temperature. They let me into the room, but I see no point in holding his hand or anything - he is unconscious, he won't know I'm there. We go home. I had about 3 hours sleep. By the time I could crawl into bed it was about 8am. By 11am people are starting to text me asking what's going on, checking if I'm okay. I had managed to text my boss about needing to call an ambulance while I was in the emergency waiting room. He's now replied to say I don't need to be at work today, but in the back of my mind is the fact that I have a show to work on, starting on Sunday - we are so busy that there will be no one else who can replace me on this show. (And we had a Federal Election on Saturday as well, so I was going to have to fit voting in around visiting S). At some point on this day a doctor calls me to get permission to administer a drug to S. This drug is not approved for use in Australia, but it is approved in the US. As a result they will have to ship it in from interstate, because there is not much

stock in the country, and I have to sign my permission for them to use it. It is a reversal drug for the 5 day chemo medication. It works best if administered soon after the chemo treatment - we are already past the ideal timeframe, but it is our best shot at helping S. S is unconscious and fighting for the next couple of days, and I'm half dreading that call that says things have taken a turn for the worse, come now! Instead, I see him for a short period each day, but he doesn't know I'm there. And I keep doing the work I have to do - at least this show is close to home for me, and close to the hospital. He is being supported by the blood pressure medication (Noradrenaline) which they are slowly able to reduce in dose, his temperature is stabilising, and the chemo reversal drug has had some positive effect. His white cell count is coming up - probably with the help of the blood products he's been given. By Tuesday 21st May S is awake and aware, and they have been able to remove the ventilator tube. The Physio is concerned about how weak he is - movement in his arms and legs is limited. He is breathing on his own, but it's hard work because his muscles are weak. His lips and mouth have been bleeding a bit around where the tube was. Still, we are seeing slow, small improvements and hoping for the best. On Friday they have to re-insert the breathing tube - he is too weak to maintain his breathing without assistance. This is a set-back, and comes with a warning that the breathing tube can't stay in his mouth/throat for too long, because it can cause all kinds of complications, especially in his compromised state. They tell me that without marked improvement soon they may have to perform a tracheotomy and insert the ventilator there. By this stage they have moved from nasogastric feeding to Parenteral nutrition (intravenously). The peg is still leaking. I'm now getting into a rhythm visiting S when I can for as long as I can around my work hours, and answering enquiries about his health and well wishes from family and friends on both my phone and his. I no longer have rehearsals every night, and the weekend's performances go pretty well. I know he's still critical, but he's stable and despite the set back S seems to be on a path of slight improvement again. The next set-back comes in the form of a flare up of the infection. The gut is still very inflamed - particularly the bowel. More blood products, more antibiotics, Noradrenaline dosage increased again. There is a mention that he probably has a slow internal bleed somewhere. Clotting is a problem - the bleeding in his lips and mouth is evidence of this too. Before I go to my Friday show I have to sign the permission for them to perform the tracheotomy - they've decided it needs to be done, and an emergency surgical team will do it but it could be a day or two before the operation actually goes ahead. Through this entire week S has been awake and aware, communicating with me as best he can around the breathing tube and the bleeding lips, which are scabby and sore. He is still very much alive mentally, still able to laugh at our corny jokes and request the music be turned up! Being in ICU he's not allowed flowers of gifts or anything, but they did allow me to take in a little blue tooth speaker so he could have the radio on all day. I see him as early as visiting hours allow on Saturday 1st June - his 42nd birthday. I have 2 shows on this day, and won't be able to see him again until Sunday. I leave the hospital soon after his Dad and brother arrive for a visit, around 11:30. Around 12:30, while I'm running sound checks for the matinee show, I get a phone call asking me for permission to do the tracheotomy. At first this confuses me - they have permission already. Apparently they are now doing it in ICU, not in the emergency theatre or wherever. He was more drowsy on the Sunday, after the tracheotomy, but still essentially in the same condition - stable. I cried off sick for work on Monday and spent a bit more time with him - I knew I had to be at work on

Tuesday for a morning staff meeting. The hospital social worker called me before I went to visit S, wanting to arrange a "family meeting" for this week some time. At first we settled on Friday morning, but later they asked me if we could arrange a time earlier in the week. After re-arranging my work schedule we agreed on 3pm Tuesday, even though S's Dad would not be able to be there anymore. Then I arrived for my Monday visit with S. We had the radio on - S likes to have music playing, even when he's falling asleep - and the announcers were talking about the State of Origin (a Rugby League series of 3 matches between rival state teams, New South Wales and Queensland). I told him I'd make sure we put the radio on the right station on Wednesday night so he could listen. Suddenly the most important thing in the world for him was finding a way to be able watch the game! I told him I'd find a way. Tuesday comes and I get through my staff meeting and a few other things on my now half day before running back to the hospital for this family meeting. It turns out this is just me, S, his ICU team, his oncology team and the social working re-capping what S has been through so far, and then scaring me (and more so S) by saying out loud the words "Palliative care". Essentially they are telling us we are out of further options. He is being given everything possible to assist recovery - the blood pressure meds are now at a low dose, but they still have to support his blood pressure, he is still on a ventilator to assist his breathing, the infection is still not improving, but it has not got worse, they have run out of different antibiotics to throw at the infection, it still seems the bleed is present, the scabs on his lips are still apt to bleed more than they should if they are disturbed. If his organs start to fail there will be nothing they can do - surgery will more than likely not be an option, and one failure will lead to another until his heart, then brain will go and that will be it. So, if we start to see organ failure palliative care becomes the only option. This is the point at which I am in disbelief. He can't be that bad. He is still totally alive mentally. How can we be discussing "making him comfortable until he dies"? And S is even more disbelieving and scared than me at those words. Yes S has looked better, yes he has spent over 2 and a half weeks in ICU, yes he has a lot more hard fighting to do if he's ever going to beat this, but his brain is fine, he is completely aware of where he is and what's going on around him - just a bit inclined to tire quickly. I stay with him longer than I intend to that night because he starts to complain of stomach pain. It gets worse. Really bad. They give him morphine. He says it doesn't help. His breaths start hitching, like something is stabbing him or something. He finally gives me the description "like hiccoughs, but sore". I can see how swollen his stomach is - fluid retention. And he is also complaining that he wants to lie on his side. We have to wait ages for the right number of people to be available to turn him on his side, to a more comfortable position. But his stomach is still giving him intense pain and whatever spasms are causing the breath hitches and grimaces. I have to leave him like that - in pain, but with the nurse on duty doing whatever he can to ease the discomfort, administering Morphine whenever possible - visiting hours are over and I'm asked to leave. On my way to work on Wednesday morning (5th June) I get a call from the head doctor in S's ICU team. He wants to know what time I can be there today - S has had major abdominal pain since last night (I know, I was there!), and they are investigating the cause, but it looks like the kidneys are failing. He tells me he will update me via text when he knows more, I tell him I will get there as soon as I can after work. I get no texts all day. I get to the hospital around 4:45pm - armed with the all important iPad mini for him to watch the State of Origin game on (yes, that is still a priority for S! God

love him!!). I'm told S has been taken for a scan and I need to come back in about an hour. So, when I return and he's back from the scan, I get the iPad hooked in to the Wifi and open the app he needs. Then I have to have the conference with the doctor. His kidneys have failed. Fluid is building up in his stomach. They want my permission to put a drain directly in his belly to ease the pressure. I give it. I have to wait outside while they get this done. There is a brief discussion about surgery - but that would literally be futile. Again we have the conversation about palliative care. This is the beginning of the end. His body is shutting down. S can't fathom this. He says the words that still break my heart, pointing to his head to indicate his mind he mouths "I'm still alive". He has so much to say, but we can't understand him through the scabs on his lips and his inability to make any real sounds. We try to get him to write things down, but his hands are really too weak. The doctor has asked if he wants to have the pain medication increased so he can slip away peacefully. The sentence he writes is "I just want to see how I go" - he wants so badly to keep fighting. He doesn't want to die. Once the doctor is sure he is comfortable for now he leaves us to watch the game - no S has not forgotten the game! He does not administer the pain medication, but he gives the authorisation for its use once S requests it. And although I had not planned to stay and watch the game (which starts around the time visiting hours end), I do. They let me stay. He nods off a bit during the second half, but I know how much seeing it means to him, so I rouse him for the good bits, and make sure he sees the end - a good result for him, a come-from-behind win for his team. I say my goodnight and leave S to get some sleep. I have told my boss how dire things are, and he has told me I have leave starting now for as long as I need. I get a call around 9:30 on Thursday morning asking me what time I will be getting to the hospital. Apparently S has been asking for me. I had a couple of things to do before I could get there, so I arrive just after 11:30am. S is not as awake and aware as he was last night. They have started giving him the pain medication (Fentanyl) the doctor was talking about, and it has affected S's ability to focus, and therefore communicate. He has apparently been asking what's going on - last night he knew the story, now he's unclear. I wish they had held off on administering the drug. I would have liked to speak to my clear headed husband today. His kidneys have failed, the liver is failing. We are out of options. His Dad and brother are in and out today - we are kind of rotating our breaks until early afternoon. A Palliative Care consultant, and the social worker and the nurse looking after S want to have a meeting with me, and it takes me longer than it should to realise that this meeting is for me to give the final word on the beginning of the end. They are focusing on making sure I am okay with what's about to happen. Making sure I know that I have the final say, and once I give the go ahead they will stop all meds that aren't making him comfortable - the Fentanyl dose will increase, but the feeding, the antibiotics and finally the Noradrenaline will be stopped. It will then be a matter of minutes or hours before he is gone. I know they are trying to be helpful, but having them ask if I'm okay, having them tell me how strong I have been for him and how much of an advocate for him I have been is only making my heart break more. That afternoon, his brother, sister-in-law and their 4 kids, my brother and sister-in-law and 2 of their kids all come in to say their farewells. The Fentanyl dose has already been increased, so S knows they are there, but he is so drowsy it's hard for him to open his eyes. His sister-in-law wants to stay with me. She doesn't seem to understand I need to be alone with S for this. But, at last she gives me space. I'm the one who has to give the green light. It's really hard to do, but I know we

are out of options. As soon as they stop the blood pressure medication (Noradrenaline), S opens his eyes and looks at me. He is as focused as I have seen him all day, his grip on my hand is desperately strong, and I explain to him one final time what is happening, tell him I love him, tell him I'm sorry things turned out this way, sorry for all the things we had planned that we won't get to do together, and tell him it's time to stop fighting and just let go. I try to tell him not to worry about anything or anyone, that it's okay to go. I hope he understands. It must be about 40 minutes before he is unconscious. They stop the ventilator. I turn off the radio - he can't hear it anymore, and he and I have different taste in music! I know he can't feel it anymore, but I won't let go of his hand until he's gone. He holds on for over an hour without the ventilator. Then there are no more breaths. I know he's gone. His hand is already much cooler than it was an hour or so ago. I am a widow. It has happened so fast. It feels strange, but I don't think the full weight has hit me yet. I am bursting into tears at random moments. I am thinking of stupid things like "what am I going to do with all these Fruit Loops - he eats those, not me!", instead of dwelling on the hard things like having a funeral to arrange, and dealing with all the people who keep wanting to do things for me, or stay with me.

That was two years ago now. In excess of 300 people came to his funeral service - a testament to how many friends he made, how many lives he brightened just that little bit with his generous spirit and ever-present smile. Of course, I still miss him. I still have my teary moments. I still struggle with guilt. But I remember his smile, his laugh, the way he would sing along to the music and make up his own words (often to make the song about us), his spontaneous dancing and all the love!

[tracybirds]

Don’t talk to me about timelines XD lockdown 3.0 was an unpleasant surprise but it did give me some fun fodder to play with. Missing from this were the stream of Valentines to Covid that spread around my section of NZ social media XD I was tempted to make Scott write some, but alas it didn’t fit. Obviously plenty has been fudged, it’s definitely not meant to be taken too seriously and more allows me to collect together some of the mixed emotions of getting a five hour countdown to lockdown D: That was not fun lol like far out, and we had to prepped for remote learning by 9am the next day. Scott is not allowed to complain further in his swanky apartment and no job XDD

In all seriousness, this is Scott’s story for FabFiveFeb2021, hosted by the ever lovely @gumnut-logic (Happy Birthday! still the right day in Aus, I didn’t miss it right :0 either way *hugs*** and I hope it was a nice day :DD)

Prompt used was “Are you kidding?” - it really resonated on Sunday evening ahaha (okay I will stop rambling in my defense it’s post midnight and I have feverishly pummelled this out in a couple of hours, it had been itching at me all day.... I missed that feeling :DDD)

----------------------

Scott was International Rescue through and through, but in the murky waters of the central business district, he thrived.

It was a closed meeting, stretching into the long shadowy hours of the evening. Legal advisors quibbled over clauses while Scott exchanged pleasantries with the company representatives, talking up his local ties to New Zealand’s City of Sails.

“My Dad taught me to sail, right out there in the harbour, you know.”

A casual remark but carefully designed to make himself seem approachable and down-to-earth, just another “one of the guys”. His associate had also sailed once, a national representative in his youth, although time and his new habit of lunch meetings had left those days long in the past.

Personal connections made more money than the lawyers in the background ever could, and Scott prided himself on the homegrown touch.

“Mine too,” said the jovial, middle aged man. “Although I reckon it wasn’t near as pretty a yacht as yours. I’ve read up on you as well, you know.”

Scott laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder.

“Len, I knew we’d get on. What do you say to dinner? This has been going on for far too long.”

“I know a great place that keeps a table reserved for me. Even on Valentine’s.”

“I’m flattered.” He nodded to Van Zyl briefly before addressing the small crowd.

“Ladies, gentlemen. You’ve done some good work, and it’s been a long one. We’ll leave it here for the night and reconfer in the morning.”

He acknowledged the tired smiles and leaned back and listened as the chatter evolved from the dry intricacies of patent law into cheery conversation of dinner plans and family time ahead.

He turned and looked out at the city, lights starting to turn on in the early evening light. The sun wouldn’t set for another half hour or so and he wanted to make the most of what they had left in the day.

So did the rest of the Auckland population it seemed. Cars were flooding into the area, people starting to stream into office buildings.

“So, Federal Street?”

“Len, what’s going on down there?” he asked, jabbing a finger down at the street below.

“Sorry?”

He and Len watched, dumbfounded as the office buildings lit up one by one, lights turning on and off again mere minutes later.

“Mr Tracy! Mr Van Zyl!”

“Charlotte, what is it? What’s happening?”

“Oh, Scott, I mean, Mr Tracy, sorry sir.”

“Charlotte. Take a breath,” commanded Scott, letting the authority of Thunderbird One bleed into his voice. “Tell us what’s happened.”

Charlotte shook her head, her hand creeping up over her mouth. She handed him her tablet.

“It’s a civil defence lockdown, effective midnight.”

A cold dread crept up Scott’s spine.

“Tonight?!”

Len pulled out a comm beside him and started dialling. The person on the other end picked up at the first ring, and dimly Scott could hear her calm, measured voice transmitted through the device.

“Can I help?” he asked, still staring at the stark words on the page.

“I… uh... help? Sir?”

“With the civil defence response, with the company, I don’t know!” He looked up, desperation in his eyes. “What can I do to help?”

Charlotte shook her head, pressing her lips together tightly.

“Mr Tracy, we have an isolation response in place, at your father’s request. Leave the board to organise the company, you need to get home and…”

“No.”

Charlotte’s voice pitched up a near octave.

“Sir, I must insist…”

“There are lockdown protocols on the island as well,” snapped Scott. “I can’t just go home, risk my family, my Grandma.”

She shook her head again.

“You can’t help here. They’ve done it before. It’s Level Three, people will be able to collect gear tomorrow if needed, we’re set up for remote offices and the last thing people need is you dilly-dallying in the top office.”

A loud shrieking alarm pierced through her final words and Scott flinched at the sound.

Len yelped next to him, dropping his comm with a curse.

“Damn emergency alerts, don’t they know the whole country has heard by now? Why do they just SHUT UP!” he bellowed at the still beeping comm. “It’s so unnecessary, the first time we went under, I thought we were about to evacuate for a volcanic eruption. Staying home, it’s hardly an emergency.”

Charlotte did little to hide her scorn, but Scott smothered a smile as he read through the full message.

“Okay, fine,” he said at last. “I can bunker down at the apartment for a few days.”

“Weeks, I’d be prepping for,” interrupted Len. “Hard to say of course, but they keep extending them.”

“You know why we do it,” said Charlotte, coolly.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I have to pretend it’s a holiday like everyone else seems to do.”

“Well, there never was any rest for the wicked, they say,” quipped Scott.

Len barked a sudden laugh.

“You’re alright, Tracy. Shame about how this ended, I’d have liked a bite with you.”

“Well, there’s always next time. Maybe we’ll find time for a shared celebration after all this.”

“My treat, Tracy, my treat,” he said with a chuckle. “Take care now.”

Scott nodded a farewell and turned back to Charlotte.

“You’re going to be fine?”

“I’ll go stay with my Mum,” she said, easily. “She doesn’t like to be in her house alone, and I can’t say I blame her. Holotech’s just not the same as being there, you know?”

“I certainly do,” said Scott, thinking of his brothers, hundreds of kilometres away. “Thank you, Charlotte, I’ll be seeing you.”

“Good luck, Scott.”

***

The downtown apartment was a mere fifteen minute walk from Tracy Tower, but with Charlotte’s words echoing in the back of his mind, the thought of potentially weeks stuck in an incredibly well furnished, yet incredibly unstocked apartment plaguing him, he opted to swing past the local supermarket. Located at the heart of the city, it was never quiet at the best of times but this was unlike anything Scott had ever seen.

The tension in the packed shop was thick as the throng that filled it. Over half the customers were already wearing masks, glaring suspiciously at those who had gone without and Scott self-consciously tugged his rain jacket higher.

Essentials, he thought wildly, just eggs and milk and bread and….

There was no bread. No flour either and the confectionary aisle was already looking sparse. He grabbed a few chocolate bars and threw them in the basket.

“Excuse me,” he said, waving down a frantic and wild-eyed shop assistant. “Do you have any bread out back?”

“No way man, haven’t you heard? Lockdown hits in like three hours, people are going mental.”

“But I don’t have any food at home, I was meant to be flying back tomorrow morning.”

The shop assistant, Ariki as his name badge proclaimed him, grimaced in sympathy.

“That’s hard luck that is. You don’t live in Auckland?”

“No, I don’t. But I won’t be able to get home now either.”

He nodded, like he’d heard it before.

“You’re thinking this is like last year, aren’t you?”

“I, uh, yes.”

“Right,” said Ariki, still nodding along with him. “Right, well it’s not quite the same so don’t stress out. Look, you can still get takeaways this time, we’ll be restocked tomorrow and all the real crazies–” he nodded towards a pair who were arguing over what looked like the last can of baked beans, “–yeah, they’ll be tucked up at home, refusing to take a step outside, it’ll be sweet as.”

Scott stared at him, then looked over at the line snaking through the frozen food aisle, between the meat and dairy and coiling up in the sad looking and so-called fresh produce.

The two chocolate bars and eggs he’s managed to grab hardly seemed worth it at all.

“I can put those back if you want.”

“Yeah,” said Scott, dazedly. “Yeah, thanks that’s be great.”

Ariki smirked a little.

“We’re reopening at seven, yeah? I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks again,” called Scott as he hurried from the shop.

The rain that had been threatening its arrival all weekend was starting to appear, and Scott hurried home, ducking his head down and shoving his hands in his pockets. He knew there’d be enough food for at least his dinner tonight and Ariki was right, he could sort the rest in the morning.

A swipe of his keycard, and he shut out the world with a muffled slam of the door and a sigh.

He shucked off his rain jacket, not bothering to hang it up, and trudged into the kitchen. It wasn’t like there’d be anyone around to complain for a while and he was starving. Lunch, the little afternoon tea nibbles they’d provided, even his last coffee felt like it had been drunken in another life.

Dinner, then finally he’d call home.

He didn’t doubt they already knew what was happening, was probably wondering why he hadn’t called, but none of them had even been swept up in the chaos of lockdown preparations.

He stared blankly in front of the fridge, the cold, bluish light illuminating him in the dark room. The sun had fully set by now, and the last vestiges of twilight had given way to the true, deep night with the onset of rainfall.

His carefully defrosting steak wasn’t on the shelf, and he looked around him in confusion, wondering if he’d accidentally left the meat out on the bench. He was hungry enough that he didn’t think he’d care and his stomach was well practiced at digesting the indigestible, bug and all.

On the kitchen counter was a neat pile: a plate, used utensils and cooking equipment all stacked together, waiting to be washed.

Scott blinked.

“Oh, hey, Scott,” called Gordon’s cheerful voice from behind him.

Scott whirled around, gaping at his younger brother, suddenly in their New Zealand apartment and not where he ought to have been – namely a thousand odd kilometres north east of the kitchen they were standing in.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“You,” Scott shouted, jabbing a finger towards Gordon. “You ate my dinner!”

“Oh, crap.”

Gordon bolted a split second before Scott charged at him, yelling wildly with all his might.

“Scott, I’m sorry, it was – shit, I mean – come on, it was past nine, I thought you’d been out, and I, oh damn, I, Scott, damn it, I’m not dressed.”

“I don’t care, you ate my food, have you seen the grocery stores? It’s absolute chaos, you traitor, you can go out and get me something, put some pants on and move.”

Gordon yelped as he dove over the couch.

“Okay, I can see there’s been some errors in judgement here,” said Gordon, panting. “I’m sorry, Scott, I really am.”

Scott glared.

“Not good enough.” He paused, eyeing Gordon as he cowered behind the sofa. “What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Here. What are you doing in Auckland?”

“Happy birthday to me too, love you bro, congrats on surviving another year.”

“You came to Auckland for your birthday?”

“Yeah.” Gordon sat up cautiously. “Couldn’t exactly see Penny, and it’s not like there’s many other places that will let us in.”

“I thought we counted as a US territory.”

“John cleared it with someone, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to be stuck at home for my birthday. And look how that turned out.”

He did look extraordinarily sorry for himself.

Scott sighed, and reached out a hand.

“Go get some damn pants on,” he grumbled. “And go look for Virgil’s emergency snacks, I know he stores them everywhere.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it, don’t you dare come back unless you bring me food.”

Gordon snorted.

“Sure, wouldn’t want to provoke the wrath of a starving Scooter.”

Scott jerked his body towards Gordon, and smirked as he bolted up the stairs towards the bedrooms, before sinking down into the cushions and closing his eyes.

The comm beeped gently, a stark contrast from the blaring alert from earlier.

“Hey,” he said, opening an eye as Virgil was projected in front of him.

“Tell me you’re not–”

“Oh, I am.”

“Gordon too?”

“Yep.”

“Damn.”

“Tell me about it.”

They were both quiet for few seconds, thinking about how rapidly the world had seemed to shift around them.

“I suppose it’s only for a few days,” began Virgil, but Scott was already shaking his head.

“We gotta do the full two weeks. After that, we ought to be able to clear an exit with the harbourmaster and the coast guard, even if it’s not over, but we can’t come back earlier. The only reason we could move freely before without our helmets is because–”

“Preaching to the choir, Scott. I get it.”

“You gonna be alright without us?”

Virgil shrugged. “Rescues are down what with more people staying at home. Alan and I can handle the small change, and Kayo’s been itching for some POD practice recently. We’ll manage. Besides, you’re the one stuck with Gordon.”

“Hey!”

“Food,” growled Scott and Gordon threw a muesli bar and a tube of M&Ms at him.

“Is that mine?”

“Gordon ate my dinner and the shops were out of everything,” grumbled Scott. “Blame him.”

“It’s my birthday, I don’t deserve this.”

“Cry me a river.”

“Alright, don’t kill each other before the two weeks is up. John’s already organised a betting pool, don’t give him the satisfaction of winning again, he’ll be insufferable.”

“Oh, he’s on,” said Gordon, grinning. “Tell him I put fifty bucks on Scott tipping me out of bed or off the couch by the end of the week.”

“Got it.”

“You can’t bet against us,” said Scott, mumbling around the chocolate. “I thought you were on my side.”

“You tried to murder me over a steak.”

“The jury would have never convicted.”

“Okay, I can see you two are going to have a fun time,” said Virgil, loudly over their bickering. “See you in two weeks.”

He didn’t wait for a response. After all, two weeks was a smidge outside even his patience.

[chiaki-translation]

SSR Hisoka [Goodnight To You]: Backstage Translation

People have been requesting me to do this since it’s incomplete in yaycupcake for a long while, I’m actually not sure whether someone else translated it but here it is~ Also also, I’m finally more or less back~

Well, I might be going for End of Year holiday, but that’s for later, I’m going to do as much as I can before I finally start working. As for the giveaway update, I have finally finished arranging it, and I’ll post the result and contact the winners in a few hours~

Summary: Hisoka is doing a part time work at a penny candy shop.

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Translator’s Note: Some people might not be very familiar with it, but penny candy is referring to candy that you can buy with a penny. It’s an older generation things I believe since you can’t really buy a candy with a penny anymore nowadays.

Be connected

Narration:

August’s shop was surprisingly busy.

It’s not only the children, men and women of all ages came to visit all the time.

Every time after the shop opened, the first thing I heard was always, “Where’s Misha.”

A lot of times, I have to say that he was out on a business trip, and it became a routine to explain why I was there in his stead.

It felt so troublesome that I felt like dying.

I wish I hadn’t accepted this.

Just when I started to get fed up, I remember something August said to me before.

“Why do you run a candy shop in this kind of place?”

“It blends pretty well within the city, I don’t think anyone will be wary of sweets too. You can get a lot of information from the locals as well.”

At that time, I was impressed by his answer, but when it’s my turn to actually mend the store, I figured it must have been a lie.

Old men talked about their declining health, housewives complained about their husband, and children chattered with no meaning. There wasn’t even one useful information here.

I listened to all of them while being half asleep, and when the crowds finally dispersed, I fell into a genuine sleep.

When August came back, I’m going to complain a lot to him.

Hisoka:

…Yawn.

Cat:

…

Hisoka:

…Who?

Cat:

Meow.

Hisoka:

…Are you a stray? Which house are you from?

Cat:

Meow.

Hisokak:

… Well, it’s fine.

See you.

Cat:

…

Hisoka:

… Why are you following me?

Cat:

Meow.

Director:

Eh, Hisoka-san? What are you doing here?

Cat:

Meow.

Director:

What a cute cat.

Hisoka:

… I think I got lost while looking for a place to sleep.

Director:

Ahaha, it sounds like Hisoka-san alright.

Cat:

Meow.

Hisoka:

It can’t be helped, I’ll help you look for your house.

<Shifts to Road>

Director:

I wonder where he came from.

Hisoka:

… I was sleeping, I don’t really know cause he was just there by the time I woke up.

Director:

Hmm… Then, let’s just walk around here.

Eventually we might pass through familiar place.

Old Lady:

Mike?

Director:

?

Old Lady:

Why are you walking at this kind of place.

Hisoka:

… Are you the owner?

Director:

(This old lady, I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before…)

Old Lady:

Yeah.

Perhaps, you’re the one who brought him here?

Hisoka:

… Yeah. It seemed that he was lost.

Old Lady:

Thank you. That was a great help.

Oh, I know. If you have time, you can stop by my place, let me pay you back for your kindness.

<Shifts to Shop>

Director:

Ah! This shop, it’s the one near Tsumugi-san’s house--

Hisoka:

You’re right.

Director:

We came here before right.

Old Lady:

Oh, I think so…

Director:

I have a feeling that I recognized your face, and I finally remember when I saw this shop.

Old Lady:

Fufu, I won’t realize if you never say anything.

Please wait a minute, let me serve you some tea.

Director:

Thank you.

Hisoka:

… Part-time recruitment?

Director:

Ah, it’s in the poster.

Old Lady:

Right.

Actually, the doctor recommended me to undergo a surgery.

I want to keep opening the shop as much as possible, I still need to take care of the cat as well, so I’m trying to find someone to help out inside while I’m in the hospital.

But, it’s a very short duration, about one week, so I haven’t been able to find anyone.

Well, there aren’t many people coming, so I guess no one’s going to be troubled if I closed it for a while…

Hisoka:

… Even so, you still want to continue opening the shop.

Old Lady:

You’re right… I don’t know why.

Hisoka:

… I’ll work part time here.

Old Lady:

Eh?

Director:

Hisoka-san will?

Hisoka:

I have experience mending a sweet store, I’m also good at taking care of cats.

Director:

That’s true, you’re always on good terms with cats.

Old Lady:

Really? That will really help.

Then, thank you for your assistance.

<End of Part 1>

Tasuku:

Hmm, a part time job huh.

Guy:

It fits perfectly with Mikage.

Tsumugi:

When I was small, everyone liked to gather at that sweets shop, but recently, people don’t really go there anymore.

Director:

It’s actually kinda sad.

Azuma:

Since we have the chance, I feel like trying to liven up the shop.

Homare:

How about we hold a reading session of my poems.

The sweet contribution of a collaboration between sweets and poem~

Guy:

I can’t see any customer base for that.

Director:

You’re right…

Tasuku:

If you want to attract customer, I think a play would be more appropriate.

Tsumugi:

But, there’s no meaning if we can’t do it in the long run.

Azuma:

Right.

It must be something that the old lady can continue with even after she’s being discharged from the hospital.

Director:

Hmm…

Hisoka:

… I’ll try to think about it when I’m mending the shop.

<Shifts to Shop>

Cat:

Meow.

Meow meow.

Hisoka:

… Only cats come here.

Cat:

Meow.

Hisoka:

… What did August do.

<Flashback>

August:

It’s imported cookies that grant your wish if you write your wish on the wrapping paper.

Recently, I started handling imported sweets too.

December:

… Grant your wish?

August:

Well, writing your wish on the wrapping paper was just something that I added myself though.

<Back to Present>

Hisoka:

… No, I can’t cheat people.

Cat:

Meow~.

Banri:

It’s really empty.

Kazunari:

Otsu otsu~

Banri:

There’s no one here at all isn’t it.

Kazunari:

I heard that Hisohiso’s starting a part time job, so we came here to see.

Ah, that’s so nostalgic~ This sweet!

So retro, it’s great!

Banri:

I’ve never entered this kind of penny candy shop before.

Kazunari:

Eh!? You never visited even in your childhood?

Banri:

They sold sweets at the basement of a department store right.

Kazunari:

That’s like high class sweets!

Banri:

What’s this? A toy?

Kazunari:

This one, if you cut here and squeeze it, you can eat it.

Banri:

Hoo, this one’s a toy right?

Kazunari:

That jewel part there is a candy.

Banri:

This is hard.

How am I supposed to know what’s food and what’s toy.

Kazunari:

That’s why they’re great!

Hisoka:

… Everything’s 130 yen.

Banri:

Since when we become your customer!

Kazunari:

It’s fine isn’t it, since we’re here, let’s go buy different stuffs~

Banri:

Geez.

Kazunari:

Let’s tell everyone else too.

I’m sure they miss these as well.

Banri:

Well, there are a lot of interesting things here.

<Short Time Skip: Afternoon>

Sakyo:

Sorry to disturb.

Hisoka:

… Welcome.

Azami:

Anyway, why is damn Sakyo here too.

Sakyo:

It’s up to me where I want to go.

Azami:

It feels too strange isn’t it.

What’s a Yakuza doing in a penny candy shop like this.

Sakyo:

This kind of place is the same as it used to be.

A lot of adults come here for the nostalgia.

The location is not bad either. Depending on how you manage it, it’s still possible to improve the performance of the business.

First of all, we can create a site and start advertising on social media, bla bla bla…

Azami:

It’s starting again.

… Ah, I used to like this.

Sakyo:

Your snack allowance is only 300 yen.

Azami:

Hah!? Don’t kid with me!

<Short Time Skip: Evening>

Itaru:

Otsu otsu.

Chikage:

You said there’s a place you wanted to stop by at after work, I didn’t think that it would be here…

Hisoka:

… The spicy snacks are this one and this one.

Chikage:

I don’t need it.

Itaru:

This is so nostalgic.

I used to buy this yogurt and chocolate a lot.

Hisoka:

200 yen.

Itaru:

Chikage-san, here.

Chikage:

I really don’t need it.

<Time Skip: Day>

Director:

Hisoka-san, good work today.

Muku:

Sorry to disturb you.

Hisoka:

… Welcome.

Yuki:

Do you make any profit?

Hisoka:

… Thanks to everyone from the troupe that comes over, more or less.

Yuki:

But it’s not going to be a long-term solution.

Director:

You’re right… We can’t continue with only the troupe members as the customers.

Muku:

Ah, speaking of which, there’s a cat here right.

Hisoka:

Yeah. Over there…

Huh?

Director:

He’s gone?

<End of Part 2>

Hisoka:

Where did he go…

Muku:

I’m going to look over there.

Yuki:

It should be fine if we just bait him with food isn’t it.

Primary School Kid A:

So cute~!

Primary School Kid B:

Let me stroke you~

Hisoka:

?

Cat:

Meow.

Yuki:

Is it that cat?

Hisoka:

Yeah.

Yuki:

He went to play with the primary school kids.

Geez, don’t make people worry like that.

Primary School Kid A:

The cat is so cute~

Cat:

Meow~

Hisoka:

--Right.

Yuki, make an apron.

Yuki:

Eh? An apron, for you?

Hisoka:

Yeah. For the cat.

Yuki:

Huh?

<Shifts to Shop>

Old Lady:

Alright, hmm…

Director:

Are you tired?

Old Lady:

I’m fine.

I’m sorry to ask you to accompany me during my discharge.

You really help me took care of everything.

Director:

Don’t mind it.

I’m glad that everything went well too.

Primary School Kid A:

I want this one.

Primary School Kid B:

Let’s exchange!

Old Lady:

Oh, there are a lot of customers.

That’s rare…

Cat:

Meow.

High School Girl A:

The cat’s so cute~

High School Girl B:

Let’s take some picture for Inste!

Old Lady:

Well…

Director:

We got your cat to become the mascot of this shop and spread the word on the social media, with this, the number of customers should increase slightly…

Old Lady:

You’re right.

Azuma:

There are a lot of different type of sweets here.

Primary School Kid A:

This one’s yummy.

Azuma:

Really. Let me try it then.

Tasuku:

This one has been around for a very long time.

Tsumugi:

Tasuku, there was a time where you only brought that snack over during excursion right.

Tasuku:

… I don’t remember.

Guy:

It’s full of snacks that I’m unfamiliar with.

Homare:

It’s really interesting.

This area, they seem to be snacks that go along with alcohol.

Guy:

Let’s buy some of them for reference.

Old Lady:

It’s been a while since this shop’s this lively.

Hisoka:

… Welcome back.

Old Lady:

I’m home.

I didn’t think that you’ll make it so prosperous.

Good work for the past week.

Also, thank you so much.

Hisoka:

This flower… For me?

Old Lady:

Yes. I saw a flower shop on my way back and it bloomed so beautifully.

When you express your gratitude to someone, whether it’s a welcome or goodbye, you give them flowers right.

Hisoka:

… Yeah. Thank you.

Old Lady:

Anyway, I thought about it when I was in the hospital.

The reason I don’t want to close the shop.

… I think, it’s because I want to keep connected to someone.

Hisoka:

You want to keep connected…

Then, August too…

Old Lady:

Hmm?

Hisoka:

… Nevermind, it’s nothing.

Old Lady:

Do come over once in a while.

I’ll be waiting here with this child.

Cat:

Meow.

Hisoka:

… I’ll definitely come again.

<End of Part 3>

[nekojitachan]

Hi, I love your fic'❤️ and I wanted to know if you could write even a short one about what would happened if Riko didnt find Andrew and Neil in WDWG

Thank you! 💖 Okay, so I did my best to keep this as short as possible, just a glimpse of the boys’ life if Riko had never found them/if they were able to live on undisturbed, just the two of them.

Uhm, I think it’s pretty safe? Just the ongoing burying bodies joke....

*******

Neil had just sold the two tourists from New York a (very ugly) tea set and couple rare blends of tea (Jodi would be pleased) when Massey’s recommendation returned. Neil gave him a stern look to convey ‘not now’ while he waited on a regular, Mrs. Huang, taking the time to let her sniff the lu’an tea they had in stock to ensure that it was up to her high standards before he bagged the requested amount, chatting with her in Mandarin the entire time. It was only after she left (and he was certain that the store was empty) that Neil motioned the anxious man forward while he reached beneath the counter for the wrapped bundle he and Jodi had worked on earlier.

“It’s ready?”

“Yes.” Neil answered in French as he set the bundle on the counter, just out of reach, then slid his phone into view. “New passport, bank account, driver’s license, birth certificate, the works.”

The man, face haggard from stress and freshly bleached hair falling onto his forehead, gazed at the package as if it a holy grail of sorts. “Let me see the passport. Please,” he added, his voice hoarse with need.

Used to being asked such a question, Neil shrugged and unfolded the brown wrapping paper enough to slip free the passport (French) and flipped it open to prove to the man (no names had been exchanged, which he much preferred) that it would pass for authentic (he did excellent work). Some of the tension left the man’s stocky body upon seeing it, as did a quick glance at the other items in the wrapping paper; he pulled out his phone to transfer the agreed upon amount of money to the account number Jodi had given him last night.

Neil checked his phone to ensure the money had been deposited then slid the items across the counter. “Good luck,” he told the man, who snatched up his new life, nodded in acknowledgement, then fled the Jade Leaves tea store.

Neil dealt with a few more tourists (not his favorite thing) and a handful of regulars (which he much preferred, especially when they brought him snacks) by the time Jodi returned. “Bah, it’s raining,” she complained as she pushed back the hood of her jacket; fall in Montreal could be unpredictable, could be an extension of summer or an early taste of winter, and now it looked as if the warm spell was giving way to colder temperatures and rain.

“Be thankful it’s not snow,” he told his boss as he handed over a cup filled with oolong, which he brewed throughout the day for customers and staff (well, him and Jodi) alike.

“Hush, you,” she chided before she took a cautious sip. “Hmm, how was business?”

He held up his phone, and huffed when she gave a pleased smile in return; she’d noticed the money deposited in the account earlier, an account which would soon disappear after she transferred the funds elsewhere (some to Neil). “Steady. I managed to get rid of the awful tea set.”

“The one with the gibberish on it?” Jodi’s pale brown eyes went wide and she laughed with joy as she reached to pat Neil on the shoulder. “Ah, sending you here was the best favor Gabe ever did for me.”

“Hmm.” Neil had to agree; as Aidan’s senior year of high school had drawn to an end, they’d been uncertain as to what to do next. Stick around until Neil graduated? Have Aidan apply to university? Move on to a new set of identities? They’d made a home of sorts in Racine, but Neil worried about his father’s people catching up to them at some point and Aidan was tired of them pretending to be siblings.

It was during a check-in with Durand that the forger had brought up that his cousin in Montreal was looking for help: an assistant who could speak French and if not take part in forging documents, at least keep their mouth shut. Neil and Aidan had debated it for a few days, but in the end they trusted Durand (as much as they did anyone else), Montreal put them farther away from the remnants of Nathan’s gang, and they could start anew.

Instead of half-brothers, they were newlyweds.

(Neil barely managed to not freak out when Aidan told Durand to create a marriage license for them, saving it until they were alone in the car. Only to be stopped mid-rant when Aidan held up a ring and asked him ‘yes or no’.)

Neil kept his first name (he didn’t want to let go of it after keeping it for so long), while Aidan became Andrew once more. Neil and Andrew Keenan, two young fools in love who struck out on their own rather than be apart (or so most people assumed). Neil spent the last couple months before they left Racine learning Mandarin, and was now picking up Arabic as well. He sold tea in a small store in Chinatown, gossiped with the locals, learned from one of the best forgers in North America (Jodi Liu was every bit as good as her cousin), and very rarely had to use the gun hidden beneath the counter.

“I haven’t heard from Gabe or Massey, so we should be good for the night,” Jodi said as she checked her phone for messages. “Go home.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He ran back to the small breakroom in the back to fetch the container of pork dumplings Mrs. Dai had given him (she kept telling him he was too skinny) then was out the door after wishing Jodi ‘good night’. Despite the rain, he stopped at Tony’s food truck to get a couple cartons of noodles to complete dinner, laughing at the older man’s retelling of a small group of Americans trying to order with appalling French.

“I guess it was better than them trying in Mandarin,” Tony said as he handed Neil his takeaway.

“Andrew complains about the French thing all the time.”

“Yeah, I imagine he’d get it a lot, working in a pastry shop.”

Neil waved goodbye and, after making sure the food was safe in his waterproof messenger bag, jogged down the mostly deserted streets to where Andrew worked, right outside of Chinatown. The bakery was empty of customers, probably because of the rain and the time of day, but the mostly empty display cases indicated that they’d done a good business earlier.

Andrew arched an eyebrow at Neil’s arrival and popped the petit four he held in his hand into his mouth. Once it was chewed and swallowed, he stepped toward the doorway leading back into the kitchen area, covered with a cloth divider. “Naseem, some riffraff just blew into the shop. I’m going to take it home.”

“What?” Andrew’s coworker, a young man with a closely trimmed black beard and a white scarf tied over his short, curly black hair, poked his head through the curtains and smiled when he saw Neil. “Why do you put up with him?” he asked, just like he always did, while he brushed at the flour which dusted his face; he probably was working on some of the pastries for the next day.

Neil gave the same answer, as always. “He knows where the bodies are buried.”

“Ha, you kids and your jokes.” Naseem shook his head as he glanced around the empty shop. “Just lock up before you go.”

Andrew gave him a two-fingered salute then quickly set about clearing out the register and turning off the lights (it looked as if he’d already done a lot of the closing duties already), then grabbed a small box before he ushered Neil out the door, which he locked behind them.

He gave Neil a pointed look as he pulled an umbrella big enough for the both of them out of his own bag and opened it. “You trying to catch pneumonia?”

“I’m open to new experiences?” Neil smiled when he was given the ‘you’re an idiot’ look. “I got dinner.”

“I know, I can smell it.”

“Are you going to share dessert with me?”

“No.”

Neil smiled the entire way home, especially when Andrew hooked their pinkies together; they didn’t have far to go since they rented an apartment in a building which Jodi’s family owned. It had a balcony where they could sit together as they smoked cigarettes or drank something hot, a bathtub big enough for them both to soak in together, and a gas fireplace in the living room which Andrew spent half the winter in front of, along with the cats.

Aibee greeted them at the door, certain to make the deplorable state of her empty belly known, while Elbee sauntered in from their bedroom and flopped down at Andrew’s feet after he kicked off his boots. He sighed and bent down to give the orange tabby a gentle pet before he prodded him to stand up, while Aibee was quick to run into the kitchen once she realized that Neil was headed that way, her fluffy black tail straight up in the air.

Andrew caught the strap of Neil’s messenger bag, which brought him to a halt. “Go change into something dry,” he chided as he maneuvered the bag from Neil’s shoulder.

“Okay.” Neil leaned in for a lingering kiss then did as he’d been told, pulling his damp sweatshirt over his head along the way. It and his jeans were draped over the hamper, swapped out for a soft sweater (that was Andrew’s) and sweatpants. Once dressed, he went into the kitchen to find that his husband had divvied up the food onto two plates, which had been placed on the table, and was feeding the cats.

“Shut up and eat, you ingrates,” Andrew said as he set down their bowls, his deep voice mild and expression almost tender.

“I thought I was the ingrate,” Neil commented as he picked up his chopsticks.

“You’re the idiot ingrate,” Andrew clarified as he sat down, and sighed when Neil stuck out his tongue.

They concentrated on eating for a couple minutes before they (well, Neil) started talking about their day; Andrew nodded along as he went on about the tourists and the documents he’d created. As expected, Andrew complained a bit about the tourists who just had to try out their lousy French on him.

“Jodi send you your part of the job yet?”

Neil frowned as he pulled out his phone and checked the special account where the money from the forgeries went. “Yes, another twenty-five thousand.” He gave Andrew a curious look. “Do I need to route it somewhere?” They were careful with the remaining money his mother had stolen from his father, most of it still tied up in investments for another couple years but a nice amount available for use – especially after Neil had started working for Jodi.

Their biggest expense to date was Andrew’s brother Aaron; when he’d learned about his long-lost mother dying from an overdose and how she’d allowed his twin to become an addict, he and Neil had arranged it so that Aaron’s cousin, Nicky, was able to win custody of Aaron and that Tilda’s ‘life insurance’ was more than enough to support the two until Aaron graduated high school. A little bit more money, a few more pulled strings had gotten Aaron into a university in South Carolina, and Neil had thought that was that.

Or so he had thought.

Andrew got up to fetch the pastry box (along with two forks) and set it on the table, the top open to reveal that inside was some horrendous chocolate thing and a small fruit tart. “We both have vacation time leftover, I thought we could go somewhere warm toward the end of the year.”

Neil gazed at his husband for a moment before he narrowed his eyes. “You just want to get away from the snow for a while.”

Andrew shrugged as he set the tart on Neil’s plate. “You won’t have to listen to me complain about the cold for a couple weeks.”

“Hmm.” That had possibilities, Neil thought as he picked a blackberry from the tart and popped it into his mouth. “You didn’t happen to research ‘the top ten ice cream places in Bora Bora’ or something like that, did you?”

He was given a blank look in return.

“We never had a honeymoon,” or a real wedding, for that matter, “so I get some say in this.”

“No Exy,” Andrew declared as he stabbed his fork in the chocolate monstrosity.

No, no Exy, Neil thought with a wince. He’d soured a bit on the sport after the whole Edgar Allan scandal. “No burying bodies.”

“Again with that? It happened twice.”

“And twice is more than enough, considering the second time, someone was all ‘oh look, I’m bleeding sooo much, you have to do all the digging this time,” Neil said in a mocking voice.

For a moment, he thought he’d be the one bleeding (Andrew had only grown more impressive with those flat stares of his), until his husband clicked his tongue. “Fine, we’ll go somewhere with plenty of water so we can sink the bodies.”

“Huh.” Neil considered that as he had a bite of the fruit tart. “That’ll work.” Not that he wanted to have to sink bodies into the ocean, but… well, it was him and Andrew. Things just happened.

There was a very slight curl to Andrew’s full lips, which meant he was smug as hell at the moment. Neil narrowed his eyes, uncertain about what he’d just agreed to, then figured ‘what the hell’. It would work out in the end, it always did with Andrew.

*******

Forgive me for any liberties taken with Montreal.

The cats’ full names are Anklebiter and Lazybones. If you can’t guess, Andrew named them, and Neil shortened them.

I figured this is set a year or two after Andrew would have graduated. He may be taking online university classes (more as something to do), but Neil’s happy with being a forger (and damn good at it).

It’s like... trying to figure out what to write next. I’ve one or two prompts I want to get done, the next chapter of Casts a Shadow, wrap up the soulmate fic, and another part of Not in the Stars. Decisions, decisions....

[fanfic-girlie]

We’re just friends

A/N: I sure have to improve a lot, but I kinda enjoyed writing this one, was even thinking about doing a series, lemme know what you think. Hope you enjoy it, if so, like it please. Also, I’m having big trouble when formatting this thing, pls consider it .Sorry for any mistakes x

Summary: you’re just friends, but you feel a bit jealous when seeing him with another girl

word count: 1255 words

——-

It was summer, your friends decided that you should all go to the beach and spend a few days. You weren’t the biggest beach fan, but you sure enjoyed road trips and your friends company, so you decided to tag along. A few days before, though, your friend Marcela introduced you to Timmy, and you guys got along so well, you barely spent time apart before and during the trip. By now, your group of friends, which had also become his, got pretty used to the two of you being together all the time, and so was Marcela, even though sometimes she wouldn’t be part of your plans. So, the trip was supposed to be: going to Malibu for the week, renting a big house on Airbnb, filling the fridge with lots of beers and food, and going to the beach. Spending a week so wasted you’d barely remember anything later. Before going you guys were sorting the rooms out, deciding the couples should have bedrooms so they could have more privacy, and the rest of you would just scatter around whatever space was left on the house. In one of the bedrooms was Mike and Ashley, on another Chris and Dani, so you, Timmy, Marcela and Alejandro were supposed to share the remaining bedroom. Going on two separated cars, you had started spring break. The ride was loud, everybody too excited about going to the beach together, a lot of music, loud conversations and junk food were definitely included on the road trip. You were the first one to put on headphones, immediately getting scolded. “No, no, no, missy! We didn’t plan this together so your antisocial ass could listen to music alone” Alejandro said, making you roll your eyes. “You can always have the aux cord”, he winked at you. Getting the aux cord, you immediately put on your favorite playlist. “This is why bringing (Y/N) is always a good idea, she has the best taste in music” Mike said, looking at you through the rear mirror. “You know I got you” you smiled looking back at him. You were on your way to pick everybody up so you could head to Malibu, the first one was Timmy, he looked like a child on Christmas when he saw you, immediately sitting by your side so you could talk the entire way. By the time you got to Ashley’s house, everyone was settled and in 3 hours or so, you were standing in front of the house you’d spend the entire week in. After dropping your things, your first stop was the market, and without knowing, 2 hours had gone by when you finished buying all the things you were going to need for the house. “So, it’s our first night. You guys decide it: bonfire or a club?” Marcela asked, rubbing her hands together. Chris and Dani were the first ones to choose the bonfire option, claiming they were too tired to go out, and we’d have the entire week to do so. Alejandro, on the other hand, complained about it being a “couple’s program” and that we should enjoy every minute of it. Defeated, you all started getting ready to go to a club nearby. You were finishing your makeup and Timmy was sitting on the bed, keeping you company while scrolling on his phone. “You don’t seem too excited to go out” he said without taking his eyes off of the screen. “I’m not, really. I’d much rather stay here and having a bonfire” you answered, checking yourself one last time on the mirror “but I’m ready, let’s go.” “We could always ditch, you know”, “It’s our first night here, our friends would be disappointed, let’s just go” you answered pushing him out of the bedroom. You entered the living room already receiving funny looks from your friends, every since you and Timothée started hanging out, everyone had in mind that he wanted something more than just friendship, but every time you were confronted about it, you’d always say “we’re just friends”. Sometimes, though, you’d catch yourself thinking about the two of you being together, you had so much in common, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea…

At the club, everybody just went different ways, an upbeat song was playing and you went straight to the bar to start drinking with Alejandro. At some point you localized Chris and Dani dancing, and Timothée… with a girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you felt weird, the way he was laughing and touching her, just like he did with you made you feel.. jealous? You guessed you were making a funny face, because Alejandro started snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Earth to (Y/N)?, ¿Qué pasa contigo?” “Nothing, I was just thinking” you said, adverting your gaze somewhere else, trying to find Mike and Ashley, they had been gone since you arrived. “Thinking about what? Or should I say.. who?” you raised your brow at him “don’t lie to me girl”. Alejandro was one of your best friends, he was one of the few people that knew you very well, he always knew what to say and was your company for as long as you could remember. You always had a hard time making friends, but he basically adopted you and made you meet new people, so you were very grateful for him on so many levels. “What are you talking about?” you gave him a puzzled look. “Come on, you and Timmy? Are you really going to tell me there’s nothing going on? I’m your best friend. Actually, I could really be offended for being left behind, if I wasn’t so busy” he said, making you laugh. He had always been such a drama queen. “Come on, it’s nothing, really” you rolled your eyes “We are just really good friends, we just hang out and enjoy each other’s company. What have you been so busy with?” you tried to make him change the subject. “You know that doesn’t work with me. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you are pretty jealous he’s out and about with some other chick” he raised his brows at you. “That’s so not true, and I’m so over this conversation” you downed another shot and went to the dance floor, leaving an amused Alejandro behind. You’d never admit to anyone, yourself included, that you’d be crushing someone, especially Timothée. You didn’t even know how to dance, which already made you regret the show you pulled, so you were just awkwardly swinging to the beat of the song, until Marcela showed up and started dancing by you, which made you feel less awkward. Suddenly you felt a pair of hands on your waist, turning around quickly you realized it was him, you were so grateful it was dark so he wouldn’t be able to see you blushing. You put your hands around his neck and tried to follow him, feeling like a big idiot. You were about to tell him you didn’t even know how to dance when you felt his soft lips on your neck going up to your face and kissing the corner of your mouth. His pupils so dilated you could barely see the iris, your knees felt weak immediately, he looked at your lips, almost like asking for permission, while licking his own, to which you nodded, allowing him access, and letting yourself go with it. You didn’t want to know what Alejandro told him, but you sure would have to thank him later.

[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt. 10

A/N: What is up my peeps! Here is part 10, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed/wanted! Happy Reading!

WARNINGS: 18+, SMUT

Chanyeol knew that what he was doing was borderline insane. He didn’t understand it himself, really. It was as if something possessed his body and took over his normally cool and collected self. He felt powerless to his impulse, the need to know the information he wanted overpowered his sense of what’s right and what’s wrong. But then again, he felt like he didn’t know how to properly differentiate from the two. He often knew what was right but didn’t always do it. 

‘It’s okay to look. It’s for research purposes. I just want to see what she is up to. There’s nothing wrong with that…’ Chanyeol thought as he willed himself to open up his Instagram app and type your name in the search box. He groaned in frustration as thousands of pages popped up with similar names to yours. When you two were hooking up he never added you in any of his social media accounts. He figured that it would make things less complicated if you weren’t there to see all the posts he would like and comment on or get tagged in. He didn’t want anything messy or complicated and that’s why he used to be fine with not having you on his social media. 

After weeks of not hearing from you or being able to get into contact with you, he finally decided to hit rock bottom and look you up online. The only problem is that it seemed like everyone and their mother had the same name as you. Trying to find your profile was going to be a wild goose chase, so he went on Suho’s instagram to look up Mina and from there to look for you. Thankfully that plan worked perfectly because he was able to find you right away in Mina’s followers list. He was very relieved when he saw that your page was public, giving him access to your photos without having to follow you. If your account had been private, he knew he was not going to add you because he was too prideful. 

Your instagram feed was pretty safe; it consisted of photos of food, landscapes, photos of you and Mina and a few cute selfies. There was a photo that caught his attention. At first sight it only looked like a photo of a coffee cup at a cafe, but once he clicked on the photo and zoomed in, he could see the corner of a face that appeared to be of a man. There was no indication on the caption that you were with anyone in particular and no one was tagged. The caption read ‘it’s always coffee o’clock’. Which meant nothing because you were obsessed with coffee. The person in the photo could be a guy but it could also be a girl with a short hair style. Or it could be a coworker and nothing else. 

‘No need to freak out.’ Chanyeol thought, ‘it’s probably nothing. She is probably too busy to date anyway.’ 

He couldn’t help himself and clicked on the comments to see what people wrote. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary… until he saw the one comment.

Itsminakim: drink water hoe ;p

Itssuhokim: im surprised you don’t have kidney failure by now

Gldnboiijk: noona! I miss getting you coffee! Plz come back to seoul. I miss you >.<

Jjh_2019: i’m glad i met the person that loves coffee as much as i do :D

The last comment rubbed Chanyeol the wrong way even though it wasn’t necessarily a flirty or incriminating comment. Something about it just bothered Chanyeol and he couldn’t understand why. He clicked on the profile and was annoyed at the fact that this person’s profile was private. All he could see what that his name is Jung Jaehyun and that he works for Friends Corp as well. He clearly is one of your coworkers, and hopefully nothing else. Chanyeol finally sighed and put his phone away, deciding that he did enough digging for one day. You seemed to be having a good time in New York and he should be happy for you. And he was, he just hoped he could talk to you. He had been busy at work producing music for a multitude of artists, his songs actually being very successful. He was elated at the fact that he had an actual career now doing something that he loved and it was going well for him now. 

He finally felt like he was getting his life together and he wanted to keep improving as a person. He wanted to be someone that you would be proud of and would be willing to give him a second chance. You were almost halfway through your year-long project contract and he was really hoping he could get in touch with you by the time you got back. Suho was still being a hardass and not budging on giving him any more information about you. It sucked that even his close friend didn’t believe that he could change and be more serious about his relationships. 

“Mr. Park.” Jihyo said as she knocked on his office door.

“Yes, come in.” He said, putting his phone away in his drawer.

“Ms. Kim is here with her manager. They’re in the conference room and they’re ready to start on the new single.” Jihyo informed, holding the door open for Chanyeol.

“Thank you Jihyo.” He followed her out the door and to the conference room.

‘No time to focus on those things. It’s time to focus on work and grind.’ He thought, putting on a smile on his face as he walked into the conference room, ready to tackle a new project.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After a long week of work you were glad to finally be able to relax and enjoy your time off. The pop-up project was halfway completed and it was crunch time. You were busy setting up meetings with local newspapers, magazines, tv stations and online blogs. You had endless conference calls and meetings. What helped you stay sane was working with your three favorite boys, endless cups of coffee and the foot massages Jaehyun would give you after long days of meetings and presentations. 

You filled up your bath with lavender salts and turned on some relaxing music. You started to undress and you slowly sat down on the tub, letting out a low groan at the feeling of the hot water relaxing your muscles. 

“I brought that wine. Still want it?” Jaehyn asked as he walked into your bathroom with two glasses of wine. 

“Yes please.” You sat up and excitedly grabbed the wine glass form Jaehyun.

He sat down on a stool you had in your bathroom and sipped on his wine with a smile on his face as he watched you relax as you drink your wine. He eyes the wet skin of your chest and looks away before his thoughts get too carried away. Ever since you two took your relationship to the next level, it was something you did almost on a daily basis. Jaehyun basically moved into your apartment because he mostly stayed at your place now. You’d go to work together, go home together, ate dinner together and fall asleep in each others arms after some passionate lovemaking. He already had some clothes at your place, occupying a small part of your closet. Your bathroom vanity also had his hair products, toothbrush and other personal items. Jaehyun was very excited about the way your relationship was going and he hoped it kept getting better. 

“So are you just going to sit there and stare off into space or are you going to join me?” You asked, amused at Jaehyun’s spaced out expression. You figured he was also very tired from the long work week and you thought he might need to relax as well. 

“You want me to join you? I don’t want to interfere with your relaxing bath.” He said, taking your empty glass away and putting it on the sink. 

“You won’t. Come in and relax with me.” You said with a sly smile, moving your hand in the water and making waves.

“Well if you insist.” He said with a chuckle. He quickly undressed and he was in his naked glory before you knew it. You gulped and looked away as he walked towards the tub. You don’t know why you got so shy all of a sudden. You have seen him naked multiple times but you couldn’t help the way your body reacts to him. You didn’t want to push him to anything because you were both tired, but you were insatiable when it came to Jaehyun. 

He got in behind you and tried to adjust himself in the small space. You tried to wiggle your body away from him so he had more space to get comfortable in but you were stopped by his hands on your hips. 

“Babe, unless you want me to have a problem, I’m going to need you to stop moving.” He bit out, trying to keep his growing erection away from your body. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly, relaxing your body against his and placing your hands on top of his as they rested on your waist. 

You hum in contentment as your body started to relax, enjoying the warmth of the water and the heat that was radiating off Jaehyun’s body. He was enjoying having you in his arms but the way the water moved around him and your soft body on full display for him was making his body react in a carnal manner. He was trying hard not to focus on it, but his body had a mind of his own. You felt his erection press against your lower back and you tried to hold back the smile that was trying to escape. Jaehyun has very high stamina and you honestly are not complaining about it. It was so cute how he made no move to relieve himself of his needs and it warms your heart just how considerate he is of you and your needs. However, when it came to Jaehyun, you were very insatiable. He could take you over and over, day after day and you would not get tired of it. Deciding to put an end to both of your misery you turn around as best as you could in the cramped space of the tub, facing Jaehyun with a sly smile on your face.

“What are you doing?” He asked with an amused smile on his face. 

“I wanna kiss you.” You tried to hover above him and he adjusted himself so you could slip your thighs around him easier.

You leaned in to kiss him, your chest pressed up against him sensually with the way the water caressed both your bodies. Jaehyun kissed you back with fervor, allowing his hands to roam your hips and thighs, eventually making it to your ass and squeezing slightly. His actions made you moan into his mouth which fueled the need in him. His erection was pressing against your thigh and you couldn’t take it anymore. You were already soaking wet and you just needed Jaehyun in you. Breaking the kiss, you widen your stance even further and move up Jaehyun’s body, aligning your center with his hard cock. He guides your hips as you sink down on him, groans leaving both your mouths as you feel yourself being stretched out by his thick cock.

“You feel so good.” You pant against his neck, the stimulation of the water and his dick was overwhelming.

“I can’t get enough of you baby.” Jaehyun grunted, snapping his hips upward as he pounded into you.

You moaned at the feeling, not really worried at the fact that water was splashing everywhere and making a mess. You were more occupied with what was going on between your thighs.

“Fuck baby, I think I’m going to cum.” Jaehyun panted, throwing his head back with a low moan as you moved yourself up and down on his cock, squeezing your walls around him. 

After a few more thrusts you felt yourself come undone, a low moan escaping your lips and you shuddered on top of Jaehyun. Your pussy clenching around him is what finally brought him to his climax, both of you panting and holding each other in the blissful aftermath. You pulled away slightly to look at Jaehyun and you couldn’t help but smile at him, leaning in to kiss him with ernest. The kiss was electrifying and soon the kiss became more intense and urgent. 

You laid on your bed face down with nothing on but your fluffy bathrobe. Your mind and body were exhausted and all you wanted to do was sleep even though your stomach was rumbling loudly. After your session in the bathtub with Jaehyun, he gave you one more orgasm in the bathtub and another one in the shower. By the time you were out of the shower you were clean and exhausted. Jaehyun had to help you into your robe and carry you to the bed because your legs felt like jelly and they weren’t functioning properly. Once he left you on the bed, he got dressed and left to the kitchen. You were finally dozing off when you heard the bedroom door open, making you open one eye to see Jaehyun come in with a pizza box in hand.

“Hey babe, I have dinner. You should eat something before you sleep, you had a rough day.” He said, slyly putting emphasis on the word rough.

You rolled your eyes and sat up to sit at the head of the bed, happily accepting the plate that Jaehyun hands over. He also brought you some ginger ale and set it down on the night stand beside you. He turned on the tv to put on your favorite tv show while you ate. You felt blissfully happy like this, next to Jaehyun and in your home. Once you were done eating and brushed your teeth, you fell asleep almost instantly wrapped in Jaehyun’s arms. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 It was Sunday night and you were folding laundry while watching TV; Jahyun had gone to get some Chinese food and you were getting everything ready for your work week. You were in the middle of hanging some skirts when your phone went off. You saw that it was Mina and instantly went to pick it up, happy to hear from your best friend.

“Mina! How are you?” You answered excitedly, making her chuckle.

“Dang girl, you’re that happy to hear from me?” She said, amused at your tone. 

“I’m always happy to hear from you silly.” You said as you walked to the laundry room, placing the last clean load into the dryer. 

“You’re so cute! Well I am calling you because  I have some news…” Mina trailed off, making you curious and slightly nervous. 

“Are you okay?” You asked instantly, worried that there was something wrong. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Better than fine actually, I’m great. I wanted to call and tell you the news… I’m pregnant!” She said excitedly, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth. 

“Oh my god? Really? How far along are you?” You asked, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You were going to be an aunt!

“I am 4 weeks along. We wanted to wait until the first trimester was over before we told the news to anyone. But now that the doctor gave us the all clear and everything looks good, we decided to break out the good news!” Mina sounded so excited as she explained the situation.

You were so immersed in your conversation you didn’t even notice Jaehyun walk in to the apartment. He heard your excited chatter and figured you were on the phone with Mina. You only ever got that animated talking to her. He placed the bags of food on the counter and sat on the stool, patiently waiting for your call to end.

“I am so beyond happy for you and Suho. As if you guys couldn’t be the most perfect couple, now you’re going to be the most perfect parents. Please send me as many updates! Link my calendar with yours so I know when you have your doctors appointments.” You said sternly, making Mina laugh.

“Oh my god and I thought Suho was bad, you’re worse! But of course I am going to keep you updated on everything. You’ll get sick of me.” She giggled playfully, making you roll your eyes at her antics.

“I could never get sick of you. I wish I could be there with you.” You whispered the last part, not trusting your voice at that moment. Tears threatened to escape but you willed them back, not wanting to make her worry.

But of course, Mina wasn’t your best friend just in title, she knows you better than you know yourself.

“Don’t cry bitch, you’re going to make me cry.” She chastised, voice sounding wobbly as well.

Before you could say anything else, you heard a distant and muffled ‘hey!’, before Mina could continue.

“Right! Sorry babe! Suho wants me to stop cursing. He says that the baby can hear and he wants me to not say bad words around the baby once it’s born. It’s so hard though!” She whined, making you laugh.

“He’s got a point.” You agreed, making her whine at you because you are her best friend and you should be on her side, not her husbands. 

“Alright babe, I have to get going. I just wanted to call you to let you know of the newest member of the Kim family. I have to call my mom and my sister before it gets too late.” She rambled, speaking faster than normal. Those pregnancy hormones are no joke. 

“You haven’t told your sister or your mom?” You asked in disbelief.

“Of course not. I called you first.” She said in a nonchalant voice.

“Aww you do love me!” You teased, knowing how much Mina hates when you do that.

“Okay, I’m hanging up now. Love you.” She says, blowing a kiss into the receiver.

“Love you too.” You reply, hanging up the call. 

“Everything okay?” You jumped when you heard Jaehyun’s voice behind you. 

“You startled me!” You said in a breathless laugh, your hand on your chest as if to stop the erratic beating of your heart.

“Sorry babe, you were really into your conversation and I didn’t want to interrupt.” He said as he made his way towards you, snaking his arms around your waist to bring you close to him and press a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“It’s okay.” You said, standing on your toes to give him a small peck on the lips.

“So what was your call about?” He inquired as you both made your way to the kitchen, where the forgotten food was.

“Mina called me to tell me she is pregnant.” You said with a smile, taking your food boxes out of the bag.

“That’s amazing! But how come you look a little down?” He asked, noticing that you didn’t seem as excited as you were earlier when you were talking to Mina. 

“Well, it’s just that I always thought I’d be there with Mina during her pregnancy. To go with her to her doctor’s appointments, to help her set up the nursery, go shopping for baby clothes… and I’m going to miss out on a lot of that.” You explained, sniffling away the tears that threatened to come out again.

Jaehyun came over to your side and wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, rubbing slow circles on your back.

“I understand that you are upset. But the project will be over before she’s due. You’ll be able to see her then.” He said with a soft smile, hoping his words will cheer you up.

“You’re right babe.” You replied, feeling a little better about the whole situation. 

Later that night as you lay in bed, you were feeling anxious again. This time it wasn’t about Mina’s pregnancy, but about the end of this year long project. Once it was over, you were going to go back to Seoul. You couldn’t move to the states and you didn’t even know what was going to happen to Jaehyun once the project was over. Your guess is that he is staying in New York because he was already stationed here before the project started. You did not want to think about what would happen to your relationship, but it was hard to ignore the reality of it all. Jaehyun truly was the best guy you have ever been with and you did not want that to end. You didn’t even know what Jaehyun was going to want to do; maybe long distance is not something he is into. You tossed and turned that night with a heavy feeling in your chest and a cold empty spot next to you in bed.

“Damn noona, you okay?” Mark asked as you walked into your office, he handed you a coffee cup and you sat down and powered on your computer.

“I feel like hell.” You said, sipping your coffee and closing your eyes contentedly.

“No offense noona but you look like hell too.” He giggled at your glare and sat down on the chair in front of you.

“Thanks. Glad to know the ten minutes I spent this morning trying to look decent was a complete waste of time.” You said sarcastically.

“I’m just messing with you. By the way, the meeting is in fifteen minutes.” He reminded you, making you groan out in misery. You did not feel like going to this meeting. You just wanted to be holed up in your office and not interact with anyone. Well, maybe just interact with one person. 

“Okay, I’ll be there shortly. Do you have the revised briefing packets?” You asked, mentally preparing yourself for your day.

“Yes! I made all the copies and they’re ready to go.” He informs, standing up to leave your office.

“Thanks, I’ll see you in ten.” You said, waving goodbye and focusing on your computer screen.

You brought up your calendar and email, ready to see your work load for the day. A knock caught your attention and you growled lowly before telling the person to enter.

“Hey babe, just wanted to say hello this morning.” Jaehyun said as he walked in your office.

“Oh, hi honey. I didn’t know it was you.” You said as you got up from your desk and made your way to him.

“Are you okay? You look a bit tired.” He said with concern, eyes scanning your face.

You frowned at him, giving him your best pouty face. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” You informed, draping your arms around his shoulders.

“Aww you couldn’t sleep without me there?” He teased, giving your nose a peck. You didn’t say anything, you just lay your head on his shoulder and hug him silently. This made Jaehyun a little worried since you weren’t normally like this.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? Wanna talk about it?” He whispered, hugging you tighter to him.

You hummed against his shoulder and turned your face to place a small kiss on his neck. He tilted his head towards you to give you a peck on your cheek, but you moved your head at that time and connected your lips with his. He kissed you slowly and sweetly but you deepen the kiss, pulling him closer to you. Jaehyun is a bit surprised, since you usually try to not get too physical at work. However he doesn’t pull away or try to slow you down. He wraps his arms around your waist and brings you closer to him, the kiss  getting deeper.

“Ahem, sorry to interrupt but the meeting is starting in five…” Johnny said from tour doorway, you and Jaehyun jumping away from each other the second Johnny cleared his throat. 

“Thank you Jon.” Jaehyun said, clearing his throat a couple times.

“Welcome. Oh! And just a tip, close the door next time.” He rolled his eyes and he walked towards the conference room. 

“Okay, well after that humiliating bit, we should get going to the conference room.” He said, gently wiping your lips with his thumb. 

“At least it was him and not one of the receptionists.” You said with a shudder, making Jaehyun laugh as he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the conference room.

Everyone got settled into their assigned seats, waiting for the head project manager to arrive. Mark has already placed a copy of the briefing packet in front of every seat and was happily seated in the back row, ready to take as many notes as needed. 

The room quieted down when Park Jeongsu, the project manager, entered the room and took his spot at the head of the room. He is a man in his late thirties and is incredibly handsome and youthful for a man his age. He is well respected by his coworkers and he does an exceptional job as a project manager. Everyone is happy working under his wing and he is part of the reason why the project is ahead of schedule. 

“Good morning everyone, thank you for being here this morning, ready to tackle today’s meeting.” He started, smiling at everyone in attendance. “I see that the marketing team has handed out their packets, so let’s start with that.” He sat down and let you take over with your proposal. 

You went over the details of all the promotions the marketing team is doing to spread awareness of the new popup shop and the website. You went into detail about all the influential people your team was going to invite to make an appearance at the opening gala, as well as naming all the benefactors that will be invited as well. You sat down after your short presentation, everyone in the room murmuring in approval and excitement.

“Thank you very much, excellent job as always.” Mr. Park said, getting back up from his seat. “Now for the opening gala, there are a few details left. Miss Lee, would you please update us on the status of those details.” He said, giving Wendy the floor to speak.

“Thank you. We were finally able to find a new vendor that can provide the linens needed for the gala. They are willing to special make the linens in the colors that we need for the event, so the orders are already in for that and they should be getting delivered here within the next two weeks. The final detail we need to complete the project is choosing our musical guest appearance. We want to best represent Korea with some of its best artists and producers. We have gotten in contact with some of the artists and we are waiting for a reply from their managers or agencies.” Wendy reported expertly. She’s not the head of event planning for nothing. 

“That’s wonderful news. Is it possible to know who you have in mind?” Mr. Park asked

“Yes of course. We want to have a diversity of groups and decided it would be good to have a male group, a girl group and some solo artists. For the male group we decided to reach out to GOT7, for the girl group we decided to reach out to AOA. The solo artists we have contacted are Eric Nam and Hwasa. We also thought it would be a good idea and a great promotional opportunity if we also work with up-and-coming artists. There’s actually a brilliant rookie composer who has been working with rookie artists and every song he has produced has been a complete hit. I believe it would be a great opportunity for us if we reach out to him in order to mutually benefit from each other.” Wendy explained, an excited buzz going around the room at the possibility of having these amazing musical appearances.

“Very impressive and excellent choice of artists. What is the name of this rookie producer?” Mr. Park asked, intrigued at the fact that a new producer is already making a splash in the music industry.

“He goes by the name of Loey. I can email everyone some of the songs he has produced so we can all get acquainted with his style. He is very unique in the sense that he only likes to work with rookie artists.” Wendy explained, fast fingers already sending out the mass email with Loey’s playlist.

“Perfect. Well, I am thoroughly impressed by everyone’s hard work and contribution to this project. That is all for today's meeting, thank you all for your time and have a great day.” Mr. Park concluded, bowing slightly before exiting the room. Everyone got up and left to their respective positions. 

“How cool is it going to be to have those musical appearances?” Mark asked excitedly, practically vibrating as he walked next to you in the direction of your office.

“If we actually get them, it will be amazing.” You smiled, actually excited for the musical guests as well.

You entered your office and opened up your email so you could check out Loey’s playlist that Wendy sent out. The email had a link to a youtube playlist and you played it on the background as you read the rest of your emails.

“Wow, is that Loey?” Mark asked as he entered your office, coffee and notes in hand.

“Well it's the songs he produced, he’s not the one singing them.” You replied, gracefully taking the coffee and notes from Mark.

“He is good!” Mark said, really enjoying the song being played. “Good lyrics and musical progression.” 

“Mark, I'm impressed you know so much about music.” You teased.

“It’s the second thing I love the most. The first being working with you, of course.” He replied cheekily, laughing at your eye roll.

“Okay, go work Mark, since you love it so much.” You said, dismissing him with a wave of your hand.

“Anything for you noona.” He winked and left your office, closing the door behind him.

You liked the songs you heard so far from the playlist and hoped that this producer would agree to work with you guys. You closed the browser for youtube and went back to your email, getting ready to do some work.

You were barely a few sentences into replying to your first email when your office phone rang. You saw that it was Wendy and answered immediately, confused as to why she would be emailing you.

“Hey Wendy, what’s up?”

“Hey! So I have some news.” She started, excitement in her voice.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” You asked, your curiosity peaked.

“So I actually just got a call back from Loey’s team and they said he is willing to work with us!” She exclaimed excitedly, hurting your ear with the volume of her excitement.

“That’s great!” You said, truly happy for her but still confused as to what this had to do with you. “Have you told Mr. Park yet?” 

“Yes, of course. I also needed to tell you though because Loey’s manager said that he is actually going to be in New York next weekend working on a project here. They said it would be a great opportunity to meet with reps of the company. And they said that Loey was very insistent on meeting the marketing director as well.” She explained, although you thought it was a bit odd.

“Why though? That seems a bit odd.” You said.

“I agree but they said he wants to be involved in how he and his artists will be promoted in the event.” She explained simply.

“Okay, well that makes sense I guess. Just email me when we are meeting him so I can make sure I clear my day.” You said, mentally going over your scheduled appointments for next week.

“Sounds great! Thanks!” Wendy said and you both hung up. 

“Well okay then.” You muttered to yourself. Ignoring the weird feeling in your gut and diving back into your work.

Previous��                                                                    Next

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part three ~ without the dolphin ~

(part one) (part two) (part three)

A/N: Thank you all so so much for reading! I never thought people would care about my writing and I am so appreciative. I’ve got messages/asks open for comments or questions.

Summary: Y/N warms up to Alex. George advises him to not be an idiot. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Secondhand Embarrassment. Mild Language.

Word Count: 2.3k

There was no music in the lift. There was no music to interrupt Alex's music blaring into his ears. If there were someone around, they would have heard his questionable song choice for the four-minute trip from his apartment to meet the deliveryman and back again. Not that that trip required music.

However, consider that the brain could think thousands of thoughts in four minutes, and the chances of those all being pleasant thoughts are minuscule. Why take that chance? Why not drown them all out?

DING the sliding doors opened. Alex stepped out with a bounce in his step set in-time with the backbeat of the chorus playing in his ears.

Coming from around the corner where the mailroom was, Y/N brushed past him in a flash of blue clothing. She did not seem to see him.

But he saw her, like a Where's Wally game he was not aware he was playing. He took out one of his earbuds, slipping it in his pocket. Alex was determined to be normal: to make up for the initial awkwardness of their first meeting.

Y/N walked past the lift and started for the stairs. She was on the fifth or sixth step.

"Red!" called Alex.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," she said, smiling.

"How are you doing?" It was uncomfortable for him to be on a lower plane than to whom he was speaking, but Y/N was not moving, so neither was he.

"Tired."

"For tired, you don't look too bad. No I didn’t—you don't look bad. You look good!" Amidst recovering from his slip, Alex noticed how different Y/N was then last time. Different in appearance, with her softer expression and relaxed shoulders, and in her aurora. It was calmer, more open.

"You look good too. That shade of yellow—" she pointed to his sweatshirt, "—compliments your hair."

"Really? You think?" He thought he might just melt or spill open in front of her.

"I'm not a liar. What are you up to?" Y/N looked around, keeping her head on a slight swivel. She returned to meet Alex's gaze with something like concern shining, hiding behind her animated expression.

"I'm meeting a deliveryman. If you want, you could come and eat pizza with George and me." After a short beat, he added, "Invite Sammy too."

"Is George your flatmate or..." Y/N intentionally trailed off.

"Flatmate." Alex thought he might have seen Y/N's smile widen more so for a second at his answer. But he could not be sure what he saw was real or just a manifestation of what he wished to see.

"He sounds nice."

"George? Yeah, he's lovely. Not as lovely as me, of course."

Nodding in mock seriousness, Y/N confirmed, "Of course."

It was a simple conversation, but it felt so alive: so real: so this is happening right now and Alex felt so present. Like looking at himself in the mirror late at night and being hit with the conscious recognition of I am a person. Here I am this corporeal being. Not made of words or thoughts, what I find funny or opinions I like, my mental state or view count.

Alex was real talking to Y/N. Words were free-flowing out of him as he processed and reacted simultaneously. Such an understanding – if harnessable – could lead to solutions for world hunger or maybe even get him to three million subscribers within the year.

"So, you'll come along?"

"I can't." Y/N frowned a slight frown. Her nervous nature returned as she cleared her throat and began to fiddle with her fingers.

"Come on, Red," his voice whined with the plea before stabilizing, "It'll be fun. It's not just pizza. I was planning on throwing together a salad as well to go with it."

"How healthy."

"Oh? Do you not know?" Alex paused so Y/N could shake her head. "I'm only buying a pizza to support local businesses; I'm really an expert in the kitchen."

"Is that right?" She raised an eyebrow.

"World-renowned."

"You know what? I see it now. Better than Ramsey, aren't you?"

"Leagues better. I'd challenge any chef to rival my bagged salad mix. It's spectacular – delicious."

Y/N giggled, and Alex joined.

Music had continued to blare from the earbud he left in, but he had been able to ignore it during the conversation. Until a particular song came on – one he downloaded as a joke – and he heard the line: got our song...up and ready

Did Alex wish Y/N and he had a song? No, that was dumb. An unrealistic expectation the romance genre shoved upon its (generally) female audience. But did he? Kind of. It would be cute. Men can want to be cute, too, right?

"So, you'll come?" he asked...again.

Y/N fiddled with the collar of her chin-hugging top. "I would, but I can't. Sam would—don't you think you've made your deliveryman wait long enough?"

"Probably. You have some time to change your mind; just ring me if you do."

"I don't have your number."

"Alright," he made a give it here gesture, "I'll plug it in."

Y/N's bright expression faltered a smidge as she relinquished her phone to him. It was an older model but still a smartphone: no passcode: no apps other than those built-in. Her wallpaper was a picture of Sammy and her on a nature walk. 

Alex’s prominent adam's apple jumped. A pain like indigestion or like guilt stabbed him in the stomach. After plugging in his number, he took an extra second to double-check it and add some personal flair.

Y/N took her phone back. "Why the emoji? I think I'll know who you are without the..." Y/N squinted at the screen. "...without the dolphin."

"Never know. It could be a good reminder."

"I suppose, it does match your eyes," she muttered, still focused on the phone. Y/N froze for a second, clearly not having meant to say that out loud.

"There you go, it's perfect. Don't be afraid to call or text me; I'm on that thing 24/7, and I promise to reply in at least one-to-two business days. Guaranteed."

She scoffed, "You should go get your pizza."

It would not be the first or fifth time Alex had forgotten about a deliveryman, and – while he would let his extra-large go stone-cold before willingly break off a conversation with her – it was apparent Y/N was itching to get somewhere.

"True." Alex gave a short wave, maintaining his distance. "I'll see you later."

"Bye.” Y/N disappeared up the stairs.

~LATER~

Alex balanced the extra-large pizza box in one hand. Never having worked in food service, his confidence in doing so was even lower than his regular self-confidence. With his other hand, he patted himself down, looking for the key to his apartment. He cursed at himself for having locked it out of habit when he left.

There was muffled shouting coming from inside – sounding both playful and angry. It took a single step through the door for Alex to recognize the source of the shouting.

George was in his bedroom watching a video back without his headphones on. 

A great grief. A true unseen struggle for all youtubers – headphones were uncomfortable. Constant low-pressure squeezing developed into the biggest hazard of the job: chronic headaches. Both flatmates had expressed how they sometimes woke up to the feeling like they needed to relieve a phantom pressure and take off their headphones despite not wearing them to bed.

"Take high ground," a familiar voice commanded. "You have to down this guy."

Pre-recorded George asked, "Where is he?"

"Left. LEFT! Your left! Goddammit George, you dyslexic bitch."

It was with bitch that Alex recognized the other voice in the recording– it was Joshy, and it was a fortnite video from the sound of it.

"This gun is so weak it's hitting nine damage," pre-recorded George complained.

Joshy screamed, "Let's go; we got to go!"

"You do your thing. I'll be over there in a bit."

Their bickering continued sounding identical in tone to that of a couple outside divorce court. Viewers loved how shit George was at fortnite and how increasingly frustrated that made Joshy: the shouting, the swearing, the idle threats and name-calling. Pairing up together for these types of gameplay videos would often have them banging out a quarter to half a million views per video.

Meanwhile. Alex placed the pizza box on the coffee table and fell onto the sofa with an exhausted sigh. Sitting up, he grabbed at the box lid and started claiming the best-looking slices in his head.

Eyes flickered to the closed-door: George had not heard him come in – surely not. And he would not be mad if Alex started in on devouring the pizza without him – surely not. Right?

Stacking two slices on top of one another, Alex crammed them into his mouth quick, as if scared they would be taken away from him, and burned his tongue.

"Help me," pleaded the pre-recorded George, "Help me. Help me."

"Nah. Don't think I will."

"Josh, if you don't revive me right now. I swear to god, I will piss in your mouth while you sleep."

Alex snorted, choking on the third slice of pizza he had fit in his big mouth; he had been on the receiving end of that piss threat before, several times. Most recently because he left a plate in the sink and George swore if Alex did not clean it that second, he would...well...piss in his mouth.

"That's not very nice." Joshy mimicked genuine sadness. "I got you."

1/3 of the pizza was gone, and Alex decided it fair to call George in before he scranned it all himself. "George! Pizza's here!"

"Alright!" George (the real not the pre-recorded) shouted back. There was the sound of his door closing and the padding of his socked feet down the short hall before he appeared around the corner. Met with Alex and the 2/3 of a room temperature pizza, he asked the appropriate, "What the fuck?"

"I was starved."

"And here I was thinking the one excuse I would accept for taking twenty years to get the pizza was that you'd run into the street and got hit.”

Alex spoke around his mouth being full, "Sorry."

"Whatever." He snuck in a quick smack against the side of Alex's head as he joined him on the sofa.

Both men sat in silence, shoving slices of pizza into their mouth like it was a competition. Like there was no other food in their apartment. Like they could not order another pizza. Like it proved something.

Breaking the silence, Alex swiped the sleeve of his sweatshirt across his mouth and asked, "Are we still filming that opening pokemon cards video tomorrow?"

"Yes. Just need someone to film the over-the-shoulder angle. Lewis is sick."

"Sick with what?"

"Not the bug." George rolled his eyes mockingly. His eating had slowed down after hitting the wall, half-way through his fifth slice. "It's like a cold or something. Could you ask your new mate Sammy to do it?"

"Why not ask Will to come down?"

"Don't trust him," he said, shrugging.

"Fair enough. I'll ask him when we hit the pub later." Alex stood and walked to the kitchen. At the sink, he washed his hands with dish detergent and, cupping his hands into a bowl, washed around his mouth with the soapy water. Satisfied, he took a towel to his hands and face before returning to see George shutting the lid on the pizza box. "What do you think of Sammy?"

"How do you mean?"

"Just in general."

George shrugged. "He's cool."

"Yeah," Alex agreed – because he did agree with the statement; he liked Sammy.

There was a pause, and, in the interlude, George stood and grabbed the pizza box. He brought it to the kitchen bin; balancing it on top the overflowing rubbish. Curious and perhaps thinking he heard a tonal shift in their dialogue, George settled himself to be pressing his shoulder against the wall nearest where Alex stood. Leaning like he was in a how do you do fellow kids meme.

Alex felt very much 'squared up' to. He turned to be met with a quick tilt of the head and a scrutinizing near-glare from his flatmate. It was not unlike George to stick his nose in where it does not belong; could this be considered that type of situation? Alex did ask for his opinion.

Clearing his throat, George asked, "Is this about Y/N?"

"I was talking to her earlier and—"

"Why were you talking to her?"

"—and I got the sense that Sammy might be like a tad controlling. I don't know."

"Are you serious?" George asked harshly before continuing in a softer voice – with a hint of hesitation, of caution, "You know what happens when you jump to conclusions like that. You shouldn't be chatting up Y/N behind Sammy's back."

"It wasn't like I cornered her. We ran into each other." Alex tugged on his sleeves, pulling them past his shaking fingers – seconds away from crawling into himself.

It was not playful bullying between friends anymore; it was a telling off. And neither was comfortable. George's eyes pleaded for Alex to look up and meet them, and for Alex to understand. Alex held no negative feelings toward George. But Alex hated himself for reacting as he was; he hated being human and having sensitive moments. Though he could not stop it.

"You have got to back off. Ok?" George confirmed, "If it means we can't have Sammy in the friend group, then that's what it means. We'll find someone else to film for us tomorrow."

"No, it's fine. I'll ask him," Alex said as he pulled up and straightened his posture. He smiled at George's concerned expression and added, "I'm not interested in Y/N."

[makomori]

SIX | CONSIDERATIONS

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She’s recovering from a nasty breakup and he’s reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua’s drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It’s the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

TWO | FAMILIARITY

THREE | INTRODUCTIONS

FOUR | OBSERVATIONS

FIVE | THE OFFER

Length: 4.1k words

Wakatoshi finally has dinner with his mom after ignoring her for almost a month. Will he make it through the appetizers without getting lectured?

That's the problem with being the strong one. No one offers you a hand.

Wakatoshi knew he was in trouble.

When he called his mom to ask if he could take her out to Fuki Sushi, she answered with a suspiciously cheerful, "Absolutely; I'll meet you at 8 PM on Wednesday."

He hadn't spoken to her in almost a month— not since the day the Adlers lost to the Jackals. The nervousness he felt made the 15-minute drive feel three times longer. When he arrived, she was already comfortably seated in one of the booths. He hesitated. Her dark gray eyes narrowed when she spotted him.

Yeah, he was in trouble.

She sipped on her water while he settled into the booth. Most places weren't built to accommodate someone as tall as he was, but this was one of the few restaurants that wasn't too bad. He could sit without having to fold himself completely in half. His knees didn't bang into the table either. When he finally looked at his mom, her expression was unreadable.

Ushijima Izanami's dark brown hair was set it its usual immaculate bob. The sharp angles of her hair were reflected in her cheekbones, brows, and eyes. Wakatoshi felt like he was in one of her business meetings. She was the current head of the prominent Ushijima household, and a formidable negotiator. He swallowed. There was no use in prolonging the unavoidable.

"Okaa-san," he began cautiously. "It's good to see you."

Her expression remained inscrutable, and he fought the urge to fidget.

She then folded her hands on top of the glossy menu. When she spoke, her tone was clipped. "Is that all you have to say? 'It's good to see you?'"

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she didn't give him a chance to speak. "Mom—"

"You haven't called in a month."

(He thought about telling her that it's been more like three weeks but thought better of it when he saw the warning look in her eyes.)

She lifted one elegant finger and wagged it in his face. "And you've been ignoring my texts." Another finger joined the guilt trip. "Your dad called, too," she huffed. "He was worried."

Guilt wormed its way into his gut. He had spoken to his dad after the finals. However, the disappointment of his performance still weighed heavily on his mind, so their conversation was brief.

"Oto-san called you. Really?"

"Twice last week." She flipped the menu up and scanned over the appetizers. At least she was still talking to him. It would've been worse if she were giving him the Ushijima silent treatment, which started with a hard stare and ended with a demoralizing statement. He had often been accused of dividing people with his honesty, but he learned from the best.

"How is he?"

"He sounded tired. But he did say that his team is one win away from making the playoffs, so I'm sure he's been busy." Her eyes softened as she tried to hide her smile, but Wakatoshi saw it even in the dimmed atmosphere. It seemed like she had enjoyed speaking to her ex-husband. He made sure to file that away for future use.

"I promise to call him." He missed his dad. Looking back on it now, he's one of the few people who would've understood what he was going through. He'd apologize for his selfishness tomorrow. Right now, he had to put his mom at ease.

"Mom?" He pulled the menu away and gripped her hands gently. "I'm sorry."

She returned his gesture with an assuring squeeze. "I know," she sighed. "I was just worried. Both of us were."

Wakatoshi smiled gently. She had a soft heart beneath that tough exterior. "Moms worry a lot."

She quirked a brow at him. "Because they have stubborn sons."

"Where do you think they learn that from?" He pretended to duck when she swiped at him playfully.

"Don't push it, Toshi."

Okaa-san and obaasan were the only ones who called him that, and it was only when they were truly irritated with him. He felt like he was 10 years-old again and being scolded for taking too many candies from the jar, but he didn't mind. He puffed his bottom lip out and looked at her earnestly.

"Oh, stop it," she sniffed. "I can't stay mad when you do that."

Wakatoshi chuckled. At least he knew he could pull that out as a last resort against her. "I still can't believe that works."

"It won't next time," she threatened. The laughter in her voice told them both that wouldn't be the case. After looking over the menu, they called the waiter over and ordered three servings of the assorted sashimi platter. His mom initially fussed and said that it was too much food, but he assured her that he'd eat what she couldn't finish.

"Will you be home until the season starts?" She sounded hopeful; he didn't get to spend much time in Sendai during last year's off season.

"Yes. I won't be moving back to Oita until the end of September." He was on the road often for away games, but even then— Oita was nine hours south by train. When he wanted to visit, he opted to fly since it was only a three-hour trip. "And Saitou-sensei asked me to help coach a local rep team."

Izanami looked at him in surprise. "Coach?" She echoed.

He nodded. The timing worked out almost perfectly. The V.League season started in October and the rep season would be well into the playoff bracket. The schedules would overlap at some point, and the other assistant coach would be able to take care of things if he were away, but he would do his best to accommodate both. The Tigers had the talent to win, so he hoped they'd make it to the end.

"I've always liked Saitou-san," his mom praised. "He complimented Washijou-sensei's style."

"He was certainly the voice of reason among the two of them." Saitou-sensei tempered the Demon Coach's hardline way of teaching. Their combination of tough love and positive reinforcement was proven to produce championship teams.

"I thought you weren't going to think about coaching until the end of your career."

"I thought so as well," he murmured. "But I couldn't say no to sensei." Indeed, many people found it hard to say no to sensei simply because he was so earnest and passionate about whatever task he set his mind to.

Izanami smiled. "You'll be in your thirties before you know it. Thinking about the future is never a bad thing."

Wakatoshi rubbed the back of his neck. Mom was right; he'd be turning twenty-six in August. He'd always known that playing at this level wasn't something he could do indefinitely. Anyone who played professionally only had a small window to maximize their youth and talents before their bodies eventually started to slow down.

"Losing the finals made me consider a few things." His mom didn't force an answer from him when he paused, as she understood that it wasn't always easy for him to express how he was feeling. "I took the loss harder than I had anticipated. I let my team down." He frowned; embarrassment and remorse laced his tone. "That's why I haven't visited. Or answered your messages. I was disappointed in myself. I needed time to understand how I was feeling."

Izanami's heart ached for her son. Even now, expression was contemplative as he rubbed the pad of his right thumb back and forth along the table's polished surface. The Ushijimas were one of the oldest families in Sendai, having been a part of the ruling class during the Edo period. Along with their reputation for philanthropy, they were heavily involved with many businesses within the city.

For better or worse, they were in the public eye.

Over the years, excellence became synonymous with their name. The pressure could be unbearable at times. That's what drew her to Utsui when they first met; he was free from expectations and it showed in the ease with which he carried himself. She hoped that sense of freedom would rub off on herself and their son, but life had different paths in mind for their family.

Neither of them was faultless in the events that led to their eventual divorce, but she regretted that Utsui didn't have the chance to have a say in how his son was raised. Izanami lived with that regret for years, but she slowly began to grasp that the future didn't have to be like the past. When she placed her hand over her son's, and he looked up at her curiously.

"Wakatoshi— any person would be disappointed after a loss like that. You're human. But our family has always been in the public eye. You've had to deal with pressure and expectations from a young age. And eyes are still on you in that career that you've chosen. You've never complained once. You've worked hard and excelled at everything you decided to try. I couldn't have asked for a better son."

A soft smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. She had little trouble raising Wakatoshi; most of his time was spent studying or playing volleyball. When he first started playing, she often wondered what drove him to practice and play so diligently. But she realized that it was his way of staying connected to Utsui. Despite not being present physically, he was still an influential part of their son's life.

Izanami shook her head. "In hindsight, there was no room at home for you to express any frustration; I should have done a better job at providing a space for that. I'm sorry you felt like you had to go through this loss alone."

Wakatoshi couldn't help his bewildered expression. The last thing he expected from his mom was an apology. If anything, he was the one who needed to apologize for his selfish conduct. He couldn't remember the last time mom had spoken with him like this. Her unwavering work ethic and loyalty were things he always admired about her. She was frightening to everyone outside their family. But he had always been aware of her softer side; she loved deeper than anyone he knew.

Another gentle squeeze from her pulled him out of his thoughts. "I'm getting older, too," she teased. "I've had time to consider some things as well. Please, come to me if you feel like that again. I might not be able to fix all your problems, but I'll do what I can to help."

Wakatoshi was silent as he tried to process what she was offering. He needed people like his mom and sensei in his life to help him understand that he wasn't meant to do everything on his own. He learned confidence and discipline from observing and listening to her throughout the years.

When he searched her face, he suddenly saw the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, along with the strength that still shone vibrantly in her eyes. They were a testament to the life she had led. Being a single mom was difficult. People either looked at you with pity or loathing. She shouldered that negativity and protected him from it so he could live his life without having to worry about what everyone else thought. He owed her everything.

"I will mom— thank you."

She gripped his hand firmly and nodded. Those two words were genuine. They had never needed to say too much to each other to come to an understanding. The reality was that they wouldn't get to spend as much time together as they used to. That was part of the reason why she was upset with him not communicating or visiting. He was living his own life and making something of himself in this world, and she couldn't be happier for him. They would just have to be more mindful about making time for each other in the future.

"So, are you enjoying coaching?"

Wakatoshi grinned and nodded. "I wasn't sure if I would be good at it, but the first practice went well. The team is incredibly talented."

"Excellent," she stated. "You sound excited about them. I've always thought that you'd be able to use your instinct when you started coaching."

He tilted his head. That was interesting. "Why do you think that?"

Izanami folded her arms. "You have a unique perspective as a top player. Yes, most coaches are former players, but not all of them played at the level you're at now. You'll be able to connect with your students personally because you've been in their position. But I think you'll also find a way to explain the thought process behind your talent."

Wakatoshi mirrored her and folded his arms. The reasoning behind her explanation was solid. "I've always been told that I'm unnaturally talented at volleyball."

His mom laughed. "That would be an understatement, my dear."

"I think it's a combination of dad's talent and your discipline." He said after a few moments. His eyes warmed and his voice was gentle. "I wouldn't where I am now if it wasn't for the two of you."

Izanami's breath caught in her throat. She felt guilty for so long about the way her marriage ended with Utsui. He loved her enough to marry into a family that was the opposite of who he was as an individual. But in the end, she couldn't protect him from her family's expectations and strictness. She knew Wakatoshi wasn't resentful about not having Utsui in his life, but she still carried that responsibility with her. Hearing him say that they were able to accomplish something positive in his life despite their divorce— that was enough for her to let go of that weight.

"Wakatoshi that's— I've never thought of it that way. You were so happy every time you played with your dad. I knew that you'd do well in volleyball from the start." She rubbed at the corners of her eyes to stop herself from getting too emotional. "And I didn't understand it at the time, but he was correct in protecting your left hand. You were able to stand out and excel because of his decision."

Wakatoshi agreed. Being different had always been his best weapon. "I'm grateful. Not everyone is able to choose a career they love."

"That's very true." She gave him a pointed look before she spoke again. "But please do everything you can to stay healthy. You're not getting any younger."

He was fortunate that he hadn't suffered any serious injuries since he start playing in elementary school. He couldn't bear the thought of sitting on the sidelines. "Always. Injuries mean that I won't be able to play, and that's unacceptable."

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page. Otherwise I'll start worrying again."

"Worrying is a part of your job," he joked. "But I should've spoken with you sooner. I truly am sorry."

Izanami shook her head and waved him off. "I am, too. We'll be learning more about each other as we go along. But it's good to have you home."

They were starving when the sashimi arrived. Mom helped negotiate a better lease with Fukase-san's landlord, so he always wanted to give her free food whenever she ate there. But she was stubborn and insisted on paying because she wanted to support his restaurant in whatever way she could. It was good he wasn't working tonight because the two of them usually got into an argument over comping her meal.

When Izanami updated him on what was happening with obaasan, he remembered the Boswellia supplements sensei gave to him at the end of practice on Saturday. "Could you give these to obaasan? Sensei said it might help with her arthritis."

She took the pills and stashed them away in her purse. "You need to come to the house and convince her to take her medication consistently." He tried not to laugh at her exasperated tone. "She barely listens to me anymore. And then she complains that everything hurts too much. But I'm sure she'll do anything for her grandson."

Wakatoshi smiled at the image of mom and obaasan clashing over this. She was even more stubborn than her daughter. "In that case, I think these might help." He pulled out two bags of sweet and sour Hi-Chews from his coat pocket. "Tell her it's from me. Maybe then she'll feel better about taking her medicine."

"You have a good heart, Wakatoshi," she said with affection. "That's one of the first things I noticed about your dad. He was always helping people in some way."

During the few times they went out as a family, dad usually ended up helping people carry their groceries or helping older ladies across the street; there was something universally appealing about his kindness.

"He said he never understood how people think you're intimidating or unapproachable," his mom continued. Then she sighed. "But that's an Ushijima trait."

"Yua-san said something similar." The back of his neck warmed when he remembered how shocked he felt when she described him as sweet.

"Yua-san?"

"Our team manager," he clarified. "When I met her last week, she said I was sweet."

Izanami's eyes flickered with curiosity. Any mention of a woman in her son's life was always interesting, especially now that he was older. She hadn't been impressed with his last two girlfriends, and she didn't say that out of spite. They were only interested in Wakatoshi's looks, not who he was as a man.

"Her nephew is one of my students. I helped him understand that losing isn't always a bad thing." Wakatoshi continued, unaware of his mom's protective thoughts. "I've never seen anyone react so positively to something I had to say."

Izanami leaned back against the booth. She liked what she heard so far. "Yua-san is a wise woman. There's always more to a person than what they present on the surface. But not everyone is willing or able to take the time to know someone on that level."

Wakatoshi nodded. "Still— she surprised me. No one has ever described me as sweet."

"Like I said, she sounds wise," Izanami mused. "Unlike that last woman you dated. What was her name again? Aoi-san?"

He nearly groaned. He hoped his ex-girlfriend wouldn't come up during their dinner. Or at all. "I'm surprised you remembered her name. You and obaasan took an instant dislike to her."

His mom rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Well, we weren't wrong. She was only interested in your looks. No wonder you two lasted only lasted three months."

"Okaa-san." He admonished. She was unfazed by his warning and gave a look that dared him to oppose her. "The season was grueling last year. I couldn't give her the attention she deserved."

Izanami leaned forward. He did not just try to justify her actions. "You mean the attention she thought she deserved. You said to me several times you felt that you were the only one contributing to the relationship. I heard you say never heard you say once that she reciprocated your actions."

Wakatoshi stared at her. His mouth gaped slightly when the truth of her words finally hit him. In the end, Aoi only wanted to talk about him when it was beneficial for her. She was only interested in flaunting that he was superstar player in the V.League. The fact that they were constantly travelling for work didn't help either. She was a rising model and had an even more hectic schedule than he did. And when they did finally get together, he was usually tired from training or playing games. She was always rearing to go out while he just wanted to rest.

When he looked back his mom, fury was written on her face, but it dissipated after a few seconds. "Forgive me," she said on an exhale. "You're a grown man now, but you're also my son. It's hard not to get emotional about your relationships."

"I understand," he soothed. "You worry because you love me. You're right. Our relationship was shallow. And it was bound to end with how frantic our schedules were."

"Well," Izanami huffed. "I'm hardly qualified to give you relationship advice considering how things ended up with your dad. But I can sniff out a shameless social climber from a mile away."

"I'll keep that in mind." It was his turn to sigh. "But my schedule doesn't seem to be compatible with dating since I'm on the road often." That was something he was concerned about as well. Depending on how his career went, he could end up playing for volleyball leagues in different countries. His family would have to relocate with him when the time came. Being married to a professional athlete wasn't going to be easy.

"That's not true," his mom said declared. "If you're interested in someone, you'll make time for them. You just haven't found the right woman yet."

Wakatoshi shook his head. "There's also that to consider. I don't know what the right woman looks like." That's not true, either. An image of Yua-san and her bright smile flashed in his mind while the intense feeling of their connection snaked up his arm. He could say with certainty that he hadn't felt this way with Aoi or anyone else.

"All you need to do is look out for one thing."

A knowing smile graced her lips. That usually didn't bode well for him. He was hesitant to ask, but he was also willing to take any advice when it came to this area of his life.

"And what is that?"

"Look out for the woman who becomes more important than volleyball."

Wakatoshi blinked. More important than volleyball? It was a part of who he was. Could it be that easy to find such a woman? He rubbed the back of his neck again. "With the way my life is going right now, I don't think she'll show up anytime soon."

Izanami laughed. Now that the challenge was out in the open, it would be interesting to see how things would turn out. "Be careful what you say, Wakatoshi. The universe just might take you up on that."

An hour later they pulled into the Ushijima ancestral manor's expansive driveway. Nothing had changed since his last visit, and he doubted that anything would. This was his childhood home, but he wasn't sure he wanted to raise his own children here. Anyway, he was getting ahead of himself. He opened the car door for his mom and helped her out.

They chatted comfortably until they reached the front door. Wakatoshi wasn't prepared for the warm, giant hug his mom gave him. She was shorter than Yua-san, so he took care not to crush her when he hugged her back. After pulling away, she straightened the patted down the non-existent wrinkles in his overcoat. He grinned. She would always see him as her little boy in some way.

"Please don't be a stranger to your own mother," she scolded lightly.

He tapped his chin. "I can't make any promises now that I'm a coach. The season is going to be terribly busy."

Izanami raised her brows. "I'm sure Saitou-san would agree that your family takes priority," she said dryly. "And you're lucky obaasan sleeps early now. Otherwise I'd make you come in and say hello. You know she loves telling stories."

Wakatoshi grimaced. "Then I'd be obligated to sleepover."

"You can do that next time," she promised. She slid the front door open and moved to go in but paused and turned to face him again. "You're always welcome to come home. Thank you for dinner. It was lovely."

"It was the least I could do. Oyasumi."

Wakatoshi walked back to his car after he made sure she was inside. The drive this time was peaceful. Okaa-san was right.

It was good to be home.

[unikornu]

Graceful Sin,

(shortie - words 2,223)

“After another argument between Lucy and Gage, the Overboss storms off to Parlor where she catches on a private moment with her pre-war boss, Harrison that recently made a come back to Nuka World. “

______________________

It was late and silent evening at Nuka Town with the exception of shouts coming from the Fizztop mountain which belonged to well known crocked couple, Gage and Lucy, arguing once again about Institute deals she forgot to mention and all confusion about newly arrived guest, Harrison, her pre-war shady employer. Lucy wasn’t the one to handle long arguments, especially against someone as stubborn and loud in complains like her fellow raider, no longer being able to stand the tension she turned around and just left, pushing the door behind her and going towards the elevator with a rapid steps, her blond braids swaying after her and hands clenched, moving to the sides.  

- Boss, shit, where the hell ya going again? Let’s just finish the talk, c’mon. Gage followed, almost ran after, grabbing her under the arm before she entered the elevator.

- We finished. The Institute deals are staying if you like it or not and so will our guest. She forced her arm out of his grip and looked at him, squinting her eyes in a threatening manner.

- A bit longer and they will settle up their own fucking lab right here with even bigger bunch of fucking synths. Even if Gage hoped for her to stay he just couldn’t let the complains go and it certainly didn’t help to calm down the atmosphere.

- He is not a regular synth but still a person Gage! And neither at Institute side, when will you fucking understand it and just let it go, jezz. Lucy snapped back at him and entered the elevator, pushing the button and refusing to listen anything Gage was still shouting through the closing in front of him door.

She leaned against the wall and sighted deeply, letting the nerves float away till elevator hit the bottom. Harrison arrival brought some good and bad news. Good for her that she managed to claim something back from her pre-war life, more than just a thing or souvenir but an actual same person she spend her last years with, before the world went to shit. Bad because even if Harrison was avoiding the Institute like a worst omen he failed to prevent from becoming bigger, Gage had a really hard time to see a remaining soul of an actual human he was and still is under the synth skeleton wearing his skin like a costume, not mentioning all the experiment that made him a supernatural entity, his soul possessing the body he still managed to recover from the pre-war lab. For Lucy it didn’t matter, since in the end they had each other and did care despite all the toxic work crime relations they went through.

Every time she was down Parlor always found a way to calm her mind, be it a theatrical rich environment of it, calm music and bottle of booze along with it, just chilling at the decorated by red silky cloth table with her legs rested on top of it, candle burning slowly in the background, letting her to light a cigarette. This time was no different with the only exception that it was empty, only a familiar tall figure leaning against a wall, Harrison himself, wearing his usual long gray shiny coat, smooth and clean, always looking like a gentleman that lost a feeling of time.

- Tough break, Feit? He nodded at her from under his round classic hat, sending her a shiny green glance.

- It’s that visible, is it? She asked in response, dropping heavily onto the chair and lighting up a cigarette.

- I know you too well so i see it instantly and sense too...in a way. Porter eh? Bitching again? He smirked with a corner of his lips already knowing the answer.

- Bitching? You seem to catch a local language quite fast, sir. She smirked back at him in a distance and puffed a smoke in the air, leaning back onto the chair.

- No choice but to try to fit in, helps to take away more of these curious eyes off me. If synth gossip cause such a stir around i would rather not let anyone find out what i am. He pushed himself off the wall and approached her, grabbing a chair on a way and taking a sit at the other side of the table.

- Institute still has no fucking clue about you and i will keep it that way. She crushed a smoke in the ashtray and placed her elbows onto the table, palms of her hands supporting her tired pale face, wearing a signs of stress from at least few days. Harrison noticed it.

- When did you....how to say it, chill out last time, Feit? You look like shit, no offense of course. He raised his thick black eyebrow at her.

- I don’t remember, it has been quite a busy time, cleaning after the bloody disciples and trying to set you up here, spread some believable information...i completely lost track of time. She brushed the inner corners of her eyes with fingers and looked back at him as he stood up and started turning his head around.

- What are you looking for? She asked, curiously.

- Something to help you relax, of course. His eyes stopped at the old pre-war   gramophone, still with a famous golden tube attached to it and a vinyl inside. He waved his hand, a bright green stroke of energy with smoke flew out of his palm as he wiggled his fingers towards it, putting a vinyl into a gentle spin as the needle slowly lowered to let the parlor room fill with the slow blues tunes.

- Nice trick. I think i remember this song. Lucy mind flew back to the times when there were still bars and dance pubs, filled with couples, talking, drinking and dancing after the work, including her but the only partner she remained with that time was the half empty bottle of booze.

- Me too. Harrison’s mind flew to the same pub she was sitting in that time but lacking a courage and clear reason to enter and just join her, especially hours ago his hands were all stained in her partner’s blood. He didn’t dare to even let the thought slip in his head but now that all reasoning and past got buried with nukes he took down his hat, placing it on table in front of her and leaned down, offering her a hand.

- You up for a short dance, to forget all that crap you seem to occupy yourself with now? The usual grumpiness of his face got replaced with an honest and soft smile, almost impossible to resist and say no.  

- Dance? I never thought you can dance, sir. Lucy couldn’t deny she loved to dance but in a raider world it was a very rare activity and with usual folks around it barely resembled a classic pre-war swinging. She hesitated for a moment but eventually placed a palm in his hand and let herself be pulled gently up.

- You still don’t know many things about me, Feit but yes, i can dance. My wife used to praise me before she kicked me out of our life. He looked down at her, realizing she might have a slightly harder time with their size difference.

- I feel like you gained a few centimeters since last time we met. She pointed out.

- Most probably...hmmm, maybe these will help. He looked towards a pair of high heel black sandals lying under one of the tables and used his powers once again to lift them up in the air and slowly bring into her hands.

- I think i left them there after last meeting with operators. She crouched down and swiftly changed her shoes, straightening up and arriving almost at Harrison’s chin.

- You already seem happier. So...shall we? He lifted his left hand up to the side, awaiting for her to grab it before he placed his other hand at her back.

- We shall. It’s been a while, indeed. She couldn’t hide her smile, swinging was always brightening her mood in no time, especially with a good company that knew how to properly lead.

- Sorry for shooting you...back then. Lucy apologized with a low, almost whispering voice, trying to fill a moments of silence between them.

- Well, i guess i deserved it in the end. He chuckled, his eyes brightening up in even lighter shade of green the longer they danced together. - Too bad the Institute made it alive in the end.

- At least they provide us some good weaponry we wouldn’t have otherwise. She shrugged, what has been done its done, she could only try to benefit from it.

- You got yourself quite a position here, being a what they call... Overboss, ordering people around and getting the job done, like you always did. He raised his arm and spun her around, pulling afterwards back and close to him, pausing for a moment, staring down at her.

- I never liked to be in charged so i’m glad you got back eventually. Even after two hundred freaking years you are still my boss, sir. She smiled at him, ignoring the sudden blush appearing lightly on her cheeks.

- Hah, you didn’t change one bit, i’m glad. He said with a lower voice, smiling back.

- Neither did you. 

He pushed off a strand of hair from her face, slowly leaning closer and closer to meet her amber gaze. She froze in place, not backing off but highly uncertain with the next move, her mind storming the thoughts as she couldn’t deny she enjoyed his company but image of Gage and their relations still made her turn away as their lips almost met.

- Shit, i..can’t. I mean... it feels awkward. Lucy admitted, dropping her troubled face to the floor.

- Uhm..no, its my fault, i enjoyed that little moment of ours a bit too much i guess, i apologize. He backed off, softening the grip on her hand, letting her to slip it away, turning his eyes to the side.

- Don’t worry, i still liked it, got my mind a bit off the usual shit. She brushed her shoulder and looked back at him, reassuring that this little accident didn’t ruin their view of each other.

- I think it’s better i get back to setting up myself at that disciple place. He walked towards a table, taking his hat and putting if back on his head, hiding the worry that his face was wearing till Lucy patted his shoulder as she approached him.

- Still thank you...for sticking around, i’m really glad to see you again...despite everything that happened. She said, with an honest soft voice that took away his sudden worry away.

He nodded back at her and left towards the exit, meeting Gage on his way out. They only looked at each other, almost saluting but not letting a single word out.

- Hey Boss...can we...? Gage paused, hearing the weird blues coming out of the gramophone, his face turning into a slight confusion.

- What’s up with that weird ass music? He asked, taking a slow steps towards her.

- What, you don’t like it? She asked, tapping the heel of her boost to the wooden floor in the rhythm of the sound.

- Can’t say, i’m just not used to it. He glanced down at her shoes and then slowly back up at her, crossing her arms, awaiting the continuation of his thoughts that brought him to Parlor.

- So...what else you have to say that you didn’t say yet. She tapped a finger against her crossed arms, looking at him at the same level this time, thanks to her heels.

- Right...fuck, maybe i went a bit too far with all that...talk we had before. Maybe it ain’t that bad. He brushed a back of his head with a palm.

- So, you are sorry. She couldn’t resist an evil smirk, sensing the apology in his voice.

- Yeeeeah, shit. Gage never liked to admit he was wrong or exaggerated in any way but ruining what they had would have been even worse in the end and he knew that.

- I can forget about it faster if you swing me properly around since i still have these on. She pointed down, sending him a seductive smile that he could hardly resist even if she was asking him for something he didn’t like as much as she was but in the end he was still agreeing for her good.

- Don’t worry, no one is looking right now. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, forcing his hands onto her back, right up her bottoms.

- You are asking for a lot here, Boss. He still grinned despite the soapy atmosphere surrounding them.

- You can always say no and turn away, Gage. She smiled and raised her eyebrow at him.

- I wouldn’t fucking dare. He took up on a challenge and pushed her even closer, bumping their foreheads and letting themselves be lost in their gaze as they swinged into the remaining track till the vinyl ran out of power, letting it end with a most tender kiss they both hungered for after every argument, let it be forgotten in a matter of seconds but her mind still drifted away for a split moment about Harrison’s move...