#Luxury Executive Desks and Tables

[ubalpineindia]

[iconicofficeblog]

best office furniture Dubai

[interiorergonomics]

Why Buying Office Furniture online is Better?

As businesses and individuals increasingly prefer online-shopping, purchasing office furniture in Dubai is also on the web. Modern and enhanced online office furniture sites have upgraded with exact crystal clear product photos, descriptions together with the most secure payment and check out systems. With attention to details, anyone can either customize or compare modern furniture products sizes, competitive prices, material and finishing. Just from where you’re, shopping online increases accessibility to a wider range of office furniture options. This makes it more prevalent than ever before. Consequently, online shopping has become a crucial avenue for meeting the evolving demands of modern workspaces in places like Dubai.

[queenie-avenue]

Take my hand, take my whole life too.

💌 ⤻ ft. THE CEO, THE CHEERLEADER, THE BASEBALL PLAYER, THE ACADEMIC RIVAL

—> Headcanons of an established relationship with the yanderes!

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader for the cheerleader and the baseball player are the same, yandere, fluff (ignore the red flags), red flags (you actually can't ignore them), drugging, stalking, possessive behaviour, stealing of personal property, invasion of privacy, obsessive behaviour, photos without consent, slightly suggestive.

note: my first joint post with all the yanderes I have so far! this is honestly a celebratory post for me reaching a 100 followers. thank you so much for all your support <33 this post is very light on the yandere content, I'll probably make a post just inclusive of their more yandere tendencies. first post of 2024!

🦋 ⤻ archives

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE

— Despite his professional exterior and PR-like smile, Adrian really melts for you. His love is passionate akin to a flame, and obsessive like a forest fire.

— Though he certainly has urges to tie you up and just never let you leave his luxury apartment, he is one of the most tolerant and sane one of all the other yandere characters.

— A gentleman. His grandma was a large part of his life, and he practically grew up with her teaching him how to treat a lady properly. He will never do anything untoward towards you and always asks whether it's okay to kiss you.

"May I kiss you?" He asked softly, his hands wrapped around your waist, his long pale fingers rubbing circles around your hip as he looked up at you expectantly. For such a ruthless man in the business world, he was like putty in your arms.

You smiled at him and nodded your head with a goofy grin as he leaned in.

Slowly, his lips claimed yours, suckling on your lower lip gently and sensually. His hands were bolder than usual, gripping you close to him on his couch. "You're such a gentleman." You whispered into his lips, making him smirk.

If only you knew the type of fantasies he had where he wasn't.

— His love language is physical touch. His hands always graze yours when no one is watching, his body pressed against yours in the elevator even when it's only the two of you. It's tamer at work, but at home, but the moment you get home, his hands are all over you.

— Prefers to keep the relationship private till engagement. His grandmother — sweet as she can be — is just like the rest of his family, judgemental when it comes to spouses. He wants to be in a place where no one can contest your love for each other. Even if they do, he's not going to change.

— Easily jealous. If you even breathe in the direction of another employee — regardless of gender because he sees anyone who interacts with you as a threat — he summons you into his office like it's time for an execution.

"Are you crazy?" He hissed at you, hands slamming you against the edge of his desk as he scooped you onto the glass table. "Doing that in front of me? Do you know how many documents I'm supposed to be looking through today?" He asked, not giving you the chance to answer by gripping your shoulders and hair, slightly tugging at it. It wasn't hard enough to be hurtful, but there was a slight sting.

His eyes were crazed as they darted between your lips and your eyes, glaring at them, as if trying to find a hint of interest in the person that had patted you on the back. What were seconds of staring felt like hours as his grip tightened.

"No, no. You're not leaving this office until I know you belong to me, and only me."

— Afterwards, though, he will be remorseful for snapping at you. He knows it's not your fault. You would never leave him, but he knows how naive you can be — even if you aren't — so he just wants to protect you! Everyone else is in the wrong, clearly.

Adrian's hand soothed down your back as he kissed your cheeks. "I'm sorry, mon chéri." He whispered as he ducked his head back into the curve of your neck. "I know I wasn't being a gentleman by getting mad at you... this isn't how my grandmother raised me to be." He sighed, disappointed in himself.

"It's fine." You promised, even if you were still a bit shaken up by his terrifying behaviour.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

How sorry could he actually be, though? He always did this and he always enjoyed the blush on your face afterwards.

— Although he buys you your favourite flowers, he does typically buy you roses as well. He is a traditional man, after all. (Unless you dislike roses, like me-)

— His nicknames for you are a mix between endearing English nicknames and romantic French Nicknames that make you shiver whenever he speaks: My love, my muse, little dressmaker, mon chéri, mon ange, chaton.

— If you can't tell, all his nicknames typically have 'my' in front. It's a subtle way of possessing you all for himself.

— Even if you both lived together, he would still steal your belongings like you had no idea he had a crush on you. Specifically, pens or your lotion or perfume if you use any. If you have journals, just know that it will be stolen to be read through once every week. Every thought belongs to him; all of you belong to him.

"Don't forget that, mon ange."

💌 ⤻ THE CHEERLEADER, KATIE WILLIAMS

— Always drags you to her games. However, she makes it very clear that you're there to watch her, not the team.

"Were your eyes on me the entire time, pom-pom?" She asked eagerly as she leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your sensitive neck.

"You weren't looking at Jesper, were you? You're only allowed to look at me, okay?" She insisted as you nodded, too tired from the cheering you did for the cheerleader to protest.

— Every weekend, she insists on a date. It doesn't need to be a fancy place but it can just simply be cuddling on the couch and watching a move. (Psst, her favourite movie is Jennifer's Body.)

— She can't cook very well, but she'll try, just for you! Most of the time, it's you who has to take over the cooking, though. Honestly, you're much better at cooking than she'll ever be. If you manage to burn water, she'll somehow catch it on fire.

— Very decent at baking, though! She likes making cookies for you. Which may or may not be laced with some sleeping pills. Or some other drug that will make you more... relaxed as she snoops through your belongings.

— Her nicknames for you are all very cutesy and girly, to the point some of her teammates cringe at them: pom-pom, kitten, cinnamon roll, sponge cake.

— Her love language is words of affirmation. She just loves praising you, okay? She just needs to praise you. I mean, you're literally perfect.

"Your hair is like- so pretty." She commented, playing with your locks of hair, running her fingers through it as her eyes focused on each strand; obsessed. "I can't believe I'm dating someone with such nice hair." She blurted out, which made you laugh.

"What?" You chuckled.

"You know what I mean, I just love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I feel sorry for you if that's the case." You attempted to joke, but for the next hour, she made sure you knew you were the best with her actions and words.

— The easily jealous type. When she's jealous, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you in, making sure you can't escape.

— Likes to spray perfume over your clothes so everyone knows you belong to her and only her. She goes to crazy lengths to ensure no one has the same perfume as her so that it'll be clear who you are with.

"Oh? You think [y/n]'s copying my style?" She asked one of the cheerleaders, a giddy smile on her face. "Why?"

"I mean, I get that you're their girlfriend, but she's kind of smelling like you now too. Isn't that a bit creepy?" Katie simply smiled at the comment and told her to mind her own business. How dare someone insinuate that you're creepy? Even if you were creepy, she'd love you. Like a small thing like that could stop her.

💌 ⤻ THE BASEBALL PLAYER, JESPER HARGREAVES

— The definition of a golden retriever. He is always clingy to you, and wants your attention almost all the time.

— Of all the characters, he is possibly the one who will resort to violence the most when it comes to you.

— His love language is a mixture of quality time and physical touch.

"Where are you going?" Jesper whined as he tried to grab at your waist. "Don't leave... I only just came." That was a complete lie, Jesper had been here with you for hours, skipping practice just so he could hang out with his darling.

"I need to get to the library to study for this test." You tried to reason with him.

"The library? But you can just study here! I promise I'll be quiet, and I won't bother you!" He whimpered, gripping onto you tighter.

"Fine." You sighed as Jesper got his way again.

— Whenever you come to watch his practices, he makes sure to work extra hard just to impress you. He's the star athlete, so he's already the best on the team, but everyone can tell he works harder when your eyes are on him. If you're not there, he'll slack off a bit so his team has to make sure that you're always there when it comes to matches or they'll lose.

— After matches — despite the fact he's drenched in sweat — he will always come running up to you, irregardless of whether you like it when he hugs you when you're sweaty or not.

— Will and can beat up someone for you if they disrespect you. He's a sweet boy, but only for you, he can be quite brutal when you're not there.

Jesper looked down at the bruised guy beneath his foot. "Touch them again, and I'll make sure I'll give you a matching black eye, asshole." He hissed.

— Jesper likes to fold origami flowers for you. Of course, there's also variety in what he makes, but if you have a favourite flower or animal, he'll always make some and place it on your desk. The question that remained was how did he manage to do that before you guys got together and you gave him the extra key to your dorm?

— If you ever blame him for anything or you get antsy with him, he just assumes it's either he did something wrong or your friends said something about him to make you not like him.

💌 ⤻ THE ACADEMIC RIVAL, SEO MIN-JUN

— Will honestly be the most loving thing there is on the planet to make up for all the bullying he did to you.

— Probably manipulated you into dating him, to be honest.

— Despite how it may seem, Min-jun pays a lot of attention to you — it helps with the fact he stalks you a lot — and will often pick up on your wants and needs before you even know it. Sometimes, when you're hungry in class, he'll slide over your favourite protein bar or a piece of honey candy from a brand you like.

— Korea is huge on fashion trends and while Min-jun is rather neutral about it all, he insists heavily on wearing certain things that are typical 'couple-matching' with you.

"I got you something." He said, dumping the small gift bag on your desk, his eyes narrowing as you looked at the bag with curiosity.

"Can I open it?" You asked meekly, still a bit concerned with how sweet he was acting now that the both of you were... dating. He nodded his head, and you fished out a pair of matching rings. Knowing your boyfriend's pride, the diamonds on them were no doubt real.

"You'll wear them, won't you?" God, he was still scary, even after being tamed by being your boyfriend.

— Will introduce you to his parents fairly early on. He wants to make it clear that both of you are dating to get married. Nothing less.

— His love language is probably acts of service with a mix of gift giving.

He slid a pen over to you. "I heard your pen broke because you stupidly stepped on it. I got this made especially so it won't snap that easily.

"Unless you're that idiotic to be able to break even this material." He sighed as he rested his head on your shoulder, only quickly shooting up when he realised both of you were still in class. Darn it, you and you stupid face!

He had a reputation to uphold, you know!

— "Study sessions" almost everyday, uh-huh. Right. Sure, both of you study for maybe three hours but then the moment the clock his the three hour mark, it's time for him to bully you with his addictive kisses.

— His kisses are honestly a bit sloppy. Can you blame him? He's never had a partner before, he used to be so focused on studies before you stole his attention.

— No matter what, he is still competitive with you, and his mean side can slip out. Especially when you anger him.

"Are you making fun of me?" He hissed as he pinned you against his king sized bed, his legs over yours to ensure you do not escape him. "Answer me." Min-jun seethed as he used his free hand to grip your chin tightly.

"Look at me. Answer the question, yeo-bo."

— He knows that he's a catch, but he refuses to let you interact with anyone that you could possibly be attracted to. He goes crazy to the point of actually warning other students to not interact with you, isolating you so you'd only be with him.

— His nicknames for you are: yeo-bo (a term of endearment used between married couples in korea), my rival. He has the least nicknames for you.

[myfictionaldreams]

Hear me out! How about Mafia Steve rogers having hate sex with reader because they were having an argument and reader had attitude. He fucks her like i need to dicipline you, you little brat and she is calling him daddy.

I'm Bored! // Mafia!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you for the request! ♥ I hope you like this!

Side Note: This isn't a part of the mafia!stucky universe, just wanted to clarify that lol

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, spanking, ripping clothes, degradation, praise kink, size kink (!), desk sex, creampie, edging, overstimulation, daddy kink, pretty behaviour, slight misogyny/stereotypes, hairpulling, fingering, exhibitionism, slight subspace

Words: 2.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“I know what you’re doing”. Steve slammed his phone onto the desk as his nostrils flared, eyes glaring with an intensity that any sane person would have backed away with their head lowered in submission.

It seemed you had a death wish today as you smirked and continued to piss him off, wanting the exact reaction you were receiving from your Mafia boyfriend. Stomping your foot and clenching your fists, you continued in a shrill, high-pitched tone for an added effect that you knew would drive him into the depths of mental hell. ”I’m not doing anything! I just feel so trapped in this stupid box of an office!”

As you so politely described, this stupid box of an office was an executive suite in one of the skyscrapers that towered over Brooklyn that he could view from the ceiling-to-floor windows. The office had to be the biggest in the building, with enough space for his desk, sitting area, kitchen and a vastly sized table to fit at least 15 people for meetings specified for the mafia boss.

And yet, here you were, moaning about the size, knowing that there was nothing more extravagant or luxurious than his office. In your defence, it had been a long day of being out of the office, as Steve had to travel for hours across his city to check the quality of stolen goods and meet with many influential people with the hopes of selling said stolen items. It hadn’t been a particularly trying day for the most part, but you quickly became bored, especially as you had to remain quiet during these meetings.

From an outsider's perspective, you were meant to be the pretty timid girlfriend of the mafia boss. His eye candy. There to hang on his arm and warm his lap and nothing more. In reality, he had wanted you there so that you could be more involved in the gang, understand how the meetings work, and contribute to decisions once back to the office if you deemed the people trustworthy enough to work with.

The staying quiet aspect of your role was also just for your safety. If you talked, that was an open invitation for the powerful individuals to talk back, and you weren’t ready to be involved in those sorts of conversations just yet. Therefore, you were more than happy to remain Steve's silent, pretty girlfriend.

Today, however, you were feeling antsy from the lack of talking, stiff from sitting for so long and needy for something a little more exciting than hand-holding or sitting on his lap. Especially now you were in the comfort of the office and could really rile Steve up. Maybe you were being a brat, but you were so bored and frustrated you wanted to get your heart pounding and some sort of relief, so pissing Steve off was the best option for this.

“Stop trying to take your clothes off-! Fucks sake. Everyone out!” Steve ordered the guards stationed by the door, and they promptly followed his directions as they left with a slam of the door.

You pause, with one of the straps of your dress halfway down your arm, turning to face him directly with a wicked smile on your face. Oh, he was pissed, verging on genuinely being angry with the way the vein on his neck was bulging and throbbing.

“I hate when you get like this. We were having a nice fucking day, too”, he demands whilst beginning to remove his tie and jacket. You knew he didn’t mean it; he always loved being able to dominate you just as much as you loved being an irritating brat and getting on his last nerve.

Your cunt pulses in desire watching him closely, eyes blazing with excitement as you bite your lower lip to try and hide the unmistakable grin. “Was it a nice day for me or for you, Steve? Because it’s been a boring day for me. All I’ve been doing for hours is standing there and looking pretty. Do you know how boring that is? I want to live a little! My clothes feel too tight, too claustrophobic. I want to be free!”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he does glare as he begins to undo the cuffs of his white shirt, rolling up the sleeves to reveal the muscular forearms beneath. It was only as he rounded his desk that you began to back up, taking a quick step backwards, but they were no match to the giant strides of his long legs as he was in front of you in a matter of seconds. His chest bumped into yours, forcing you to continue backwards until your back was flush against the cool glass windows.

Steve towered above you, even with your black heels adding a few inches to your height; he always seemed to be a gargantuan man, adding warmth to your core. Looking up at his glaring face through your lashes and biting your lip, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Think you’re being cute by acting like this? Like a brat with all that attitude?” he snaps, reaching up to wrap his massive hand around your throat, not squeezing as such but just so that you stayed still and he could feel the thump of your racing heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

“I think I’ve got the response that I wanted, so yes, I think I am being cute”, you say confidently whilst reaching for the bulge in his slacks to show just how turned on he was, squeezing it tightly and making it throb.

Steve’s eyes drop to your hand as he subtly thrusts into your palm, but as he looks back towards your face, you know he has something planned as it is his turn to smirk. “You said your clothes felt tight. Well, let’s change that Princess”.

The hand around your neck lowers to your hip, turning you around so your front is pressed against the window, forced to look out over the city of Brooklyn. Before you could even look over your shoulder to see what was next, your body was shaken as Steve gripped the left and right side of your dress and pulled, effortlessly ripping the red dress down the zip so it fell from your body. You were left in only your thong and heels, wholly exposed to the city below.

Steve’s hand is then suddenly in your hair, pulling your head back against his shoulder and forcing your chest to push up, your nipples perking from being pressed against the startingly cold glass.

“Does this make you feel any more free? You know I love it when people watch me touch you. Well, now we’ve got the whole city watching Princess”, Steve whispers as he runs his nose down your neck.

You shiver as he nudges the sensitive spot just below your ear, “Yes, Steve-”.

The hand in your hair tightens, “Excuse me?”

“Daddy”, you correct yourself quickly, “Yes, Daddy, thank you for making me feel more free and showing me off to everyone”.

He hums to himself, “I think it’s about time I should how to be more grateful and show a little less of this attitude you seem to have”.

“Yes, Daddy”, you say submissively, mind reeling with the anticipation and thrill of what's to come.

“Count for me and safe words to be used if needed”, he mentioned before continuing.

With one hair remaining in your hair, he presses your face against the window, not hard enough for it to hurt but also to make sure that you keep it in place. His other hand pulled back on your hips, perking your arse out for him. You were only vaguely aware of his plan as you heard the swatting of his hand through the air before the stinging impact as he spanked your arse cheek.

You jumped at the contact, but he always started light, not wishing to actually cause you harm and so that you could make it through the usual ten counts before checking in.

“One, thank you, Daddy”, you say sweetly, watching the glass in front of you fog up at your heated breath. With each spank, you made sure to count and thank him. Even though you’d been a brat, when he finally did snap like he was now, you were always on your best behaviour, taking whatever punishment he deemed necessary.

His palm connected with both of your cheeks, ensuring they both had equal attention and that the areas were hot to the touch and somewhat sore but not enough to bruise. You enjoyed the rough treatment so much that you were rolling your hips into his palm, feeling the wetness coating your thong and spreading over your labia.

“Ten, thank you, Daddy”, you softly say, your eyes closed and feeling the world becoming fuzzy around the edges as the mixture of pleasure and pain caused the hormones in your head to feel like you were experiencing your own personal high.

This was the reason why you always enjoyed pissing him off with a little bit of attitude and bratty behaviour; being drawn into a subspace mentally from the punishments was like a drug to you, one that Steve was more than happy to pull you into.

Overwhelming pleasure suddenly burst through your burning core as Steve pulled your thong string to the side and shoved two thick digits into your pussy, stretching you thoroughly.

“You’re so wet, such a desperate little slut aren’t you” he taunts whilst rocking his fingers in and out, stretching them every so often to prepare you for what you really want.

You stick out your bottom lip in a pout whilst rolling your hips in time with his fingers as you whine, “Only your slut though, Daddy”.

Steve kisses your naked shoulder, showing some sort of soft intimacy, “That’s right, you’re just my little slut. Now how about you show me just how good you are for me and go and bend over my desk and spread your legs”.

The hand in your hair loosens enough that you can wiggle free and stumble over to the desk, kicking off the heels as if they were not helping the wobbly sensations in your legs. Steve was one step behind and reached around you to shove the papers cluttering his desk off and onto the floor. With the extra space, you could happily bend forward, resting your chest on the desk and widening your stance as Steve begins to unbuckle his belt.

Watching over your shoulder, you admired the lustful gaze of his bright ocean-blue eyes, the drag of his tongue along his bottom lip as he looked as if he wanted to eat you right then and there.

“Do you like what you see?” you asked whilst wiggling your hips invitingly to him.

Steve tries and fails to hide the smirk on his face. Reaching forward, he rubs with each of your arse cheeks, squeezing the sore areas until your mewling and begging for something more. As he stepped closer and continued to hold the string of your thong to the side, he looked you directly in the eyes as he spoke lowly, “I just want you to remember that you wanted me to get this riled up with that smart mouth of yours. Acting bratty has its consequences”.

Opening your mouth to try and sass him another way, all that came out was an exaggeratedly obscene moan, your eyes rolling back as Steve’s cock thrust deep within your cunt in one mighty thrust. The movement caused you to rock onto your tiptoes, having to push further onto the desk as the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, filling you completely. The warm, wet walls of your pussy fluttered and squeezed around the penetration, trying to milk him already, clinging to him within an inch of your life.

Your fingers wrap around the edge of the desk above your head, holding on to it as Steve withdraws. Half of the length inside of you retreated, only to slam back into you, causing your hips to bump into the table with the strength put behind the movement.

“Faster”, you demand as your forehead rests on the rest, eyes closing to focus on the overwhelming pressure in your core.

However, the sassy tone you used was not appreciated by the man nearly splitting you in half with his cock as his hand once again delved into your hair to pull your head back, causing a startled scream to replace the moans.

“You don’t get to decide how fast I fuck you, Princess”.

With your head pulled back in this position, you were now having to stare at the wall behind his desk, which had a narcissistic painting of him, given to him as a joke by one of his employees. Now, however, to your delight, you were able to stare up at his handsome face as he fucked you with deep, tauntingly slow thrusts.

With this pace, you could feel every single inch dragging along your sensitive walls, causing them to spasm and tighten on instincts rather than just taking a quick hard fuck that left you forgetting to breathe and seeing stares. The way Steve currently had you was more overstimulating and had your breaths coming out in short huffs.

Steve, it seemed, knew every little moan and hitch of breath that your body took, understood at which degree of tightness your cunt squeezed him in with just how close you were to orgasm. His hips stopped thrusting as you could have sobbed as that beautiful sensation faded into a light buzz rather than an overwhelming euphoria.

“Please- Please Daddy, I…I… I’m sorry for my attitude, Daddy” You managed to find the right words, internally praising yourself for coherently saying what Steve wanted to say as currently, the only words running through your mind were, ‘fuck me harder, Daddy’.

“That’s all I wanted you to say, Princess”, he praises lightly as one hand remains holding onto your hair and the other slips between the desk and your mound so that two of his fingers can massage your clit.

The burst of fire that pulsed through you was powerful, knees wobbling and whines turning into incoherent begs of the word ‘yes!” as Steve finally began to fuck you at the fast pace you’d been hoping for.

You came so quickly that the breath rushed from your body, and you became light-headed from the overstimulation. He doesn’t stop, though; he just continues to hold you in place, fucking you and playing with your clit until you came a second time.

Thankfully, Steve did too, grunting desperately as his hips snapped up one more time, and wetness came flooding out of your cunt as his seed seeped out and down your thighs. Carefully, he removed his fingers from your sensitive bundle of nerves and gently rested your face on the desk whilst massaging your scalp and kissing along the back of your shoulder blade.

As he moved up towards your neck, you sighed in contentment, turning your face to the side so that he could gently kiss your cheek and you could reach around to run your fingers through his short, blond hair.

“Get your frustrations out?” he asks quietly and softly into your ear.

Nodding your head, you blink tiredly back at him, “Yes, thank you. But now, I have no clothes, and I can’t walk”.

Steve chuckles against your skin, a beautiful sound that has your toes curling again, “Well, I did warn you”.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Dealing with anything outside of the agency was just not your forte. Being stuck to your desk 24/7 hardly helped either but desperate times called for desperate measures so you turned to the only thing that felt familiar. To any sane person, turning to the mafia was an act of absolute lunacy but you were scared and in desperate need of protection and frankly, you didn't want to stress out your coworkers more than you already did. You knew that if you told them the extent of your fear and worries that they would drop everything they were doing and would assist you immediately but ... So much has happened these past few months. It wouldn't be fair to burden them. The mafia was your only option, if they'd have you.

Oddly enough you were welcomed with open arms and by an executive of all people.

There he sat across you in all his mighty glory, a cup of blood red wine on the table, legs crossed and the usual smirk you had come to expect from the ginger man. Despite being in a rival agency, Chuuya was always oddly curt towards you, maybe even downright polite. Well, that was his usual attitude towards strangers (unless he was being provoked that is) but with you it felt... Different. Did you like it? You didn't know. But that didn't matter at this point in time.

"I didn't think you'd come so openly to us." said Chuuya smugly, never once breaking eye contact with you. Feeling yourself tense up you opened your mouth to say something but he interrupted you instead.

"It's alright babe, I know a poor soul when I see one."

Wow, he was oddly intuitive. Uncrossing his legs Chuuya slightly lowered himself, possibly to grab the glass of wine that lay dormant on the table. With a sharp breath you finally spoke up:

"I'm being followed and I no longer feel safe in my own skin anymore. I don't want to bother anyone at the agency but I can't defend myself either so..."

Raising his finger in the air he promptly silenced you.

"So, what you're saying is that you want us to take the fall for whatever happens to you?"

Crap you didn't even bother thinking about the implications. A sudden wave of nausea hit you like a truck but it soon was magically replaced by confusion as the executive started to laugh.

"I'm kidding. I can be funny too, when I want to be."

You couldn't help but to break out into a tiny smile yourself, albeit a very crooked one. Chuuya didn't seem to mind though. You suddenly felt something warm on the top of your hand and you came to the realization that it was most likely Chuuya's hand. You felt his fingers trace various patterns across the soft flesh, like he was trying to get you to talk more, maybe even to soothe you?

You honestly weren't too sure.

His eyes shined with conviction, like a man on a mission. "Tell you the truth, I don't mind you coming here." he said gently. An odd feeling of warmth filled your chest as you blushed but Chuuya didn't allow you the luxury of turning your head.

"Look me in the eye when you speak to me, please. That's all I want."

Was he always so gentle? The Chuuya you knew was brash, loud and, and...

And like magic, he was suddenly next to you, both of your wrists trapped in a tight grip. Feeling his hot breath fan your face you almost felt like squealing but your stupid brain immediately went into overdrive, causing you to say the absolute worst possible thing.

"Dazai-"

"Dazai?"

Shit. Shit, shit, he was going to crush you -

Chuuya was beyond vocal with his distaste for the suicidal maniac and you always understood his reasoning.

But you were a fool and Dazai was charming. It was a very common occurrence for him to flirt with you in the office, to hold you close like this. Dazai was always light and airy, he would be gone almost as fast as he came.

It was fascinating how Chuuya was the complete opposite.

His presence was heavy and the way his eyes glared daggers at you almost made you regret your decision coming here. However, instead of numb pain or a sharp impact you were met with only softness as you could feel him climbing on top of you, your head and back making contact with the soft couch in the process.

"You are here with me and you have the nerve to say that bastards name?"

If he said anything else besides that, you wouldn't know. After all, how could you focus when the mafioso held you so tight but oh so sweetly, almost like a flower you were to scared to drop. You saw his lips move but you couldn't hear any noises that came out of them. For the tiniest second, you imagined what would be like to kiss him, to kiss the fiery man that hovered above you, to taste the bitter wine on his delectable lips.

Your fantasies soon crashed and burned the moment Chuuya said:

"You really should consider leaving the Agency and join us, y'know."

He... He can't be serious. He was joking, you were sure of it. Confusion was written all over your face but Chuuya's stayed the same, no cracks whatsoever. He tsked, his left eye twitching ever so lightly.

"Those detectives can't keep you safe, obviously. But, the Port Mafia can, I can. I can give you anything and everything, just say the word and it is yours."

His words echoed loudly inside your mind and you gaped like a fish, looking at literally anywhere that wasn't him.

Well, what will you do?

The choice is yours.

ENDING 1. (you leave the ADA) // ENDING 2. (you stay in the ADA)

[the-fluff-piece]

Catching Smoke

Part 2 - where your escape is made impossible by an upcoming execution and commander Smoker is giving his best effort to make you feel safe

As the door to Smoker's office closed behind you, you couldn't help but smirk to yourself. You had won the first round in this battle of wills with the imposing Marine commander. You knew it wouldn't be the last, but for now, you relished in the small victory.

Tashigi led you to your modest quarters within the Marine base. The room was spartan, to say the least, with just a simple bed, a small desk and a chair. Just what was to be expected in a military environment. You would have to make do, although you missed the sunny's luxurious commodities already. And Sanji's cooking.

"I hope this will be sufficient for you" Tashigi said, her voice carrying a tone of genuine concern.

"It's more than enough," you replied with a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Captain."

"Don't forget to attend breakfast at 0700 tomorrow morning," She nodded and left you to settle in. You needed to gather your thoughts and start planning your next moves. The news about Ace's execution weighed heavily on your mind. You had to tell Luffy, help him somehow.

Your first night in the marine base was full of uncertainty and fears - but also excitement about what was to come. If you could pull this off, you could return to your friends with lots of useful information. About the marine's secrets, technology and tricks.

Sleep didn't come easy in the uncomfortable marine bed and you were only able to find rest after turning and tossing for what felt like hours. An unsettling dream got hold of you, where you got chased, but you couldn't get away. There was a menacing mist, always just mere inches behind you, threatening to swallow you whole.

Groaning, you woke up. Joints aching and cracking, you peeled out of bed, feeling battered. It was far too early - but you had to get ready for breakfast and your second day at the base. Tashigi was so kind to lend you some of her clothing, just until you could buy new ones. You explained your lack of lugagge with the unreliable transport to the base, which she accepted without any further questions.

Wearing one of her pink shirts with a colorful print and white marine uniform pants, you headed out. The base was massive, a labyrinth. The small map you got handed was hard to read, so you arrived a bit late at the mess hall, where waves of grumpy soldiers munched on their rations.

You grabbed a tray of unappetizing food and scanned the room for Tashigi. She had been the most friendly person so far here, a ray of sunshine in this wretched place.

As you looked around, you spotted a familiar figure sitting alone at a corner table. It was Smoker, his two cigars smoldering as he stared into a cup of coffee. His muscular frame and stern expression made him an imposing presence even in a room full of Marines.

He had already seen you and nodded to acknoledge your presence. Not exactly your favourite breakfast company, but it wouldn't hurt to establish a rapport with him.

You walked over to Smoker's table and cleared your throat. "Commander Smoker, mind if I join you for breakfast?"

He looked up, his brown eyes locking into yours for a moment before he grunted in response and gestured to the empty chair across from him.

Taking a seat, you began to pick at your food: bland porridge, and black tea. "Long night, Commander?"

He took a sip of his coffee, his expression unreadable. "Yes, I've been catching up after you so kindly sorted out the memos for me" he said flatly.

You decided to take the opportunity to establish a friendlier tone with him. "I can't even begin to imagine the stress you must be under, chasing after pirates and all."

Smoker's gaze hardened, and he leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "This isn't just about chasing pirates. It's about justice and maintaining order in this world. To protect the people of this world from violence."

You nodded, trying to hide the fear. From what your crewmates told you, he was merciless against pirates and a tough opponent. You should never forget who you're dealing with here. "Of course, Commander."

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Smoker spoke again. "You've been doing a decent job in only the few hours you were here, Miss Y/n. I was sceptical when I heard that we're bringing in civilians for the job now, but you've surprised me."

You forced a smile. "As long as I am here, I plan to assist you in any way I can, Commander."

He grunted in acknowledgment, but couldn't hide the smile playing around his lips. "I would like to reinforce my offer for the position. I'll await your answer when I come back from the execution."

Your heart skipped a beat. The execution. You didn't know where Luffy was, you probably couldn't do anything from here to help Ace. Even if you stopped Smoker, hundreds of decorated and dangerous Marines will be present.

Smoker's brow furrowed as he continued. "This base has been lacking proper administrative support for a while now. If you decide to stay, it could help ease some of the burdens on me and Tashigi."

You weighed your options carefully. Staying on as Smoker's secretary would grant you continued access to valuable information, but it would also tie you more closely to the Marines. However, it might be the best way to protect your crewmates until you found out where they landed.

"I appreciate your offer, Commander Smoker," you replied diplomatically. "I'll give it some serious thought."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Good."

Silence resumed. He seemed comfortable just staring into nothing while he ate, but there was one more burning question on your mind:

"Uhm, Commander?"

"Yes, Miss?" he looked at you again.

"Where did you get that coffee? It smells good" you asked, giving in to your cravings. It didn't exactly smell delicious, but way better than stale tea.

"Oh that one? You need to ask directly to get some, it's only for higher officers. Out here, it's rationed. Stay here" he gestured for you to stay put, "I will get you some." He already moved towards the kitchen with long strides.

You waited and ate some of the porridge. Would it kill them to put something on there? Maybe some cinnamon or apples? You let the thick mass glide from your spoon back into the bowl, where it landed with a wet sound.

"Well, well, Dove, so pretty!" a smeary voice announced behind you. It was asshole-soldier from yesterday. Fuck. You looked around nervously for either Tashigi or Smoker.

"Sitting so alone? Let me help you with that" he sat down right next to you and put his arm around the backrest of your chair.

"I feel like I've seen you before? Maybe you are a pretty little pirate?" he studied your face closely as you tried not to give anything away through your expressions.

"Piss off, Soldier" you said loudly, much to the amusement of the surrounding Marines, who now turned to look at the early morning entertainment.

"This is a real marine base, for real men. Little miss secretary doesn't have any business here" the grimy one next to you said. You wanted to get up, but his arm pressed down on your shoulders.

You were outnumbered and unarmed, marine soldiers from all around got up and watched, but they unmistakebly formed a wall around you. No escape.

"We don't need no paper pusher here" one said, approaching your table.

He didn't get far though - it looked like he got stuck in something. Confused, he looked down at his feet and saw with horror the smoke gathering around his legs.

"Anything else to say, soldier?" Behind him, Smoker's towering silouette could be seen in the smoke that had built up behind the soldier.

"SIR, NO, SIR" the man suddenly saluted and stood at attention, shaking from head to toe.

"And you? I can't remember inviting you to sit at my table" He glared at the soldier next to you.

"I didn't know that this was your table, commander" He jumped up from the chair and stood very straight. "Sir, I am very sorry!"

"You two are an embarrassment for this base" Smoker's voice thundered through the whole mess hall.

For the first time, you saw his body turn into smoke from close range. His arms dematerialized and his hands shot to grab each of the officers that threatened you. He lifted them both up by their collars with ease and proclaimed, for everyone present to hear: "No one is to threaten, harm or otherwise inconvenience Miss Y/n. In fact, if anything ever happened to her, no matter what, I will punish this whole base. Is that understood?"

All the soldiers that were present saluted and confirmed his order.

"You two just lost your place at the execution. It's one week in the Brigg for each of you for this." He slammed the struggling men to the floor and they scuttled away.

Smoker sighed and sat down. The smoke receded and just his hand came flying back and put a cup of coffee on the table in friont of you. Chatter resumed, everything seemed completely normal again.

"I apologise, they shouldn't have....they are mostly good men, but rough. It will not happen again, I'll personally see to it" he looked very, very concerned that the position of his secretary will not be filled after all. But he also seemed to try his best to make you feel safe, which felt reassuring.

You tasted the coffee. It was without a doubt burned and had been cooking for a few hours, but it was comforting and hot nonetheless. Smoker also occupied himself with his cup.

"On second thought, you should come with us. It will give you the opportunity to get to know the great marine Ford!" He forced a smile to advertise the idea. Maybe he didn't trust his men quite so much after all.

It was just as well. Whatever happened there, you could only do something about it if you where present.

"Very well. It's not like I have to pack a lot." You saw his shoulders relax in relief.

"Perfect. We leave in one hour."

-----

The ship was huge, crowded and just as cold and uncomfortable as the base. So many people, so many resources.

It was hard to fight the feeling that you could be busted at any second. You looked around the marine ship: soldiers worked to steer the ship, clean the deck or seemed otherwise occupied with carrying crates or hurrying somewhere inside. You looked behind you: marine Captain Tashigi and Base commander Smoker sat at a small table behind you, drinking tea, watching their subordinates do their work. A transponder snail was on the table, ready to report any news that might come up.

Smoker

You turned again and looked out at the sea, endless blue water.

He was on edge, not only did he almost miss a summon, he also had to maneuver a civilian's special needs. A civilian he needed.

Normally, he didn't bother with the feelings of his subordinates. Or his higher-ups, for that matter. But now he had to get this woman to stay at his base by any means necessarily. So, he made a real effort to make her comfortable.

Let's see, he thought. She's about as old as Tashigi and a girl like Tashigi. So he probably shouldn't scream at her or she'll cry. He also guessed that as a civilian who has never served, he should not bark orders at her or call her names if she messed up.

He breathed out smoke from his cigars as he studied her form. She was leaning on the reiling, looking out at the open water.

What was he thinking about again? He was lost for a moment, staring at her generous ass and her arched back. Usually, he didn't care about women. He didn't think that Tashigi was cute, like his men, or that Hina was a sexbomb. Something about her was different though...

Focus, man! He told himself. He should empathise with her. What could she be feeling? Maybe she was worried. Or scared. But she didn't let much of it on, which showed him that she found strength and resolve in herself. But just in case, he should socialelize with her. Make her feel welcome and protected.

He nodded to himself, he was proud of his plan and he would get on its completion right now.

"Are you alright, Miss?" He asked, standing next to her.

"Yes of course!" She looked startled, but showed him a smile right away. Smoker may not be an expert with women, but he saw that she looked anxious.

"Not to worry, miss! Whatever happens, I want you to know that you have my full support and protection." In an effort to be reassuring, he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, commander. I appreciate it." The smile she gifted him with made him turn a little soft inside. He really missed to be with the people he was protecting. If he was honest with himself, he missed Logue Town. He needed to be reminded now and than who he fought for. The civilians whose lives he protected and for whom he strived for order and justice. Even though he would never let it on - their gratefulness had fueled him.

No one would harm a hair on her body as long as he could help it.

"Sit with us" his outstretched arm indicated the empty chair at his table.

She sat down and with a nod to Tashigi. Smoker turned his attention back to the tea on the small table. He poured a cup for Y/n and another for himself.

Smoker was exceptionally proud of himself, this went great. He would enact the next step of his plan.

"Me and Tashigi will have dinner at 1800 in the captains mess. You are welcome to join us." He monitored her reaction closely.

"I..uhm...of course, I'll be there." She shyly looked away, but he could see her smile.

It would take two more days to get to the fort, plenty of time to secure her cooperation.

------

Next week, we'll be at the marine Ford battle, even if we're just an onlooker.

A small chapter with the first bonding experiences!

What, marineford was known to become a war but Smoker takes her along anyways? They evacuated all civilians from the island you say? Well, he's not thinking that far and also I didn't want y/n to be left behind, that would have been less dramatic. So let's all decide that it isn't pretty careless from him. Besides, I already wrote that part before I happened to see the bit where they say that.

[demonadelem]

The worst days of Franziska's life.

When Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth disappeared with a suicide note on his desk, Manfred was alive in prison awaiting his execution.

Franziska was visiting Manfred in prison, his arm in a sling having recently done surgery to finally remove the bullet from his shoulder. The two rivals Gregory Edgeworth and Manfred Von Karma had recieved and removed matching bullets, a connection that chained each other to their fates. A chain that had spent 15 years tightening to drag Manfred to hell.

Twin bullets meeting again a lifetime later from the barrel of a gun to a forensic's lab. The concrete proof that the monster she and her brother wished to bring to justice was right under their noses. With that the last shred of Franziska's denial crumbled, she was forced to accept her father had really been a hypocrite to everything he had ever taught her. If Miles had died, he would have died with his life's mission complete, a luxury few recieve. Her thoughts lingered on the "if", unlike the denial pertaining to her father's guilt, the one she had for her brother's suicide was far stronger.

Franziska would be the one to deliver the news to Manfred. As per her training, she attempted to stick to the facts, solely revealing the note and disappearance. She couldn't give away her personal feelings, her theory that Miles was still alive would betray the fact she had more hope for Miles then she had for her own father. He couldn't know that. Franziska was still revered Manfred inspite of the thick plexiglass between them. "Well?" A beat, a moment, waiting for a response, a sigh of disapproval, a pointing out a contradiction in the evidence, doubt, disbelief, anything, anything but-

Laughter, a horrid echoing laughter. Manfred banging on the table with his good arm, his head thrown far back far enough to not notice that Franziska flinched.

Miles had visited Manfred before she had, for answers and to gloat at his failed revenge. Except that Manfred revealed that wasn't the revenge, but the last part of it. "Failed? Have I now?" He said to Miles "Ask yourself this, would your father be proud of what you've become? Did you even notice I made you into someone he would have hated." Manfred was confident this was had sent him over the edge.

After all that, there was Franziska with no family left to love.

[raisindave]

[Chapter 51] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

How do you transcribe torture? The dialogue itself came easy, and lucky for you the conversation wasn't longer than 20 minutes. Should you describe what Ghost did to make the conversation temporarily halt, or do you just cite it as an [intermission]? Will they be expecting you to translate belligerent screaming and pleading into notes? How do you even articulate a blood-curdling wail? It's not exactly what they teach you in school. Laswell mentioned earlier that it was entirely off the record, so it's bizarre that they want the record to begin with. The powers that be command this of you, and what are you if not obedient. Like a feudal monarch, this mysterious overlord holds your life in their hands, drinking in your life's worth without a blink. Every flick of your pen made you more uncertain, and it didn't help that the small wooden desk in your room squealed every time you turned the page. 

When you're the arbiter of truth, being the only living person who knows what was really said, each penstroke comes with a lot of responsibility. Not to mention the default fact that your comrade already lied for reasons you'll never understand, covering your ass from scrutiny for shooting the subject without authorization. It would be easy to lie and say that the man you interrogated immediately admitted his affiliations and intentions. But that's not the truth, is it? You can't in good conscience lie twice in one sitting. It took Ghost splintering bones and worse to get him to admit the bare minimum, and you used unnecessary personal slanders to get under his skin. Any professor or coach you've ever had would thoroughly condemn your actions and reject their affiliations with you. Those academics probably wouldn't recognize you now, and neither do you. 

A thick fog in your mind ground your productivity to a halt. Occasional drifting into daydreaming shifted into a nearly consistent frame of mind. Your eyes tracked shiny lacquered wooden trim along white stucco walls. Ornately crafted porcelain lamps on either side of a white bed in the shape of pearly clamshells, and sheer orange curtains that touched the floor. The rest of the world could really take some valuable notes from the design of this military base. To be fair, you are in the executive officer's quarters, where it's fair to assume the regular grunt bunks wouldn't be nearly as luxurious. It's still a comfort to know that this random Italian military base sees you as someone of a higher social standing than a fresh recruit. That's more respect for your expertise than from your actual reporting officers. 

That's it. It's fair to say you won't get any more work done in this room. It's time for a change of scenery, and maybe it'll refresh your memory. Standing to rise from hours of sitting made stagnant blood in your feet crackle to life while you gathered Laswell's notebook and pen, with a goal to head into the inner sanctum of the base. You couldn't be sure what you were looking for, but something told you you'd know it when you saw it. Another creaky groan, this time from the door to your quarters, and you were set off down the hallway. Earlier, when you saw Soap and Gaz, they were watching soccer in a small common room. That might be the best place to start since dark, overcast skies suggested rain on the horizon, eliminating the prospect of peacefully sitting under one of those lemon trees. 

Most soldiers are relegated away from the officer's building, so you had the comfort of knowing that you were out of the public eye, for the most part. The twisting hallway adorned with charming wooden archways will eventually lead to that same common room, though this maze of corridors could easily disorient you. Just as you suspected, your four colleagues were there. Price sat at the head of a long plankwood table, flipping through pages of paperwork with a cup of tea on the table beside him. Another glance showed they each had tea next to them in ordinary white mugs, they looked like espresso cups in their broad hands. Soap was directly next to Price, looking like he was bored to tears. Gaz was there too, across from Soap, also looking like he was bored to tears, practicing pen tricks by flipping one between his fingers. Failing, sending a pen skittering across the surface as he was distracted by your approach. 

"Hello, Cricket," Price nodded, taking a long sip from his tea. "How's the transcript coming along?"

"I'm done writing it out, now I just have to edit it," you lamented, slumping yourself into a chair a few seats from the rest of them. 

You didn't even notice Ghost at first, though he tends to have a habit of being invisible to the naked eye. A dark hoodie and broad shoulders made him look like a piece of furniture at first glance. He sat near the corner, facing away, pouring over what looked like paperwork. There's no doubt in your mind that he saw you enter, even when faced away. He, too, had a cup of steaming tea at his side. Fucking Brits. Seeing him caused your mind to subconsciously flutter to the dull pain from the bruising on your insides, the memory of his breath and sharp teeth on your inner thigh. Seeing him come undone from your talented touch, writhing and heaving. Your throat tightened.

The news was on in the background, and your colleagues suddenly drawn gazes compelled you to follow their sight, effectively redirecting your attention. A complex slurry of emotions swirled in your system as you saw a female figurehead discussing a grainy, distant view of what you immediately recognized as you and Ghost in a CCTV camera. It was definitely taken as you were taking the tango to the dam; it must have come from live cameras operating outside the quarry they had raided. Lanky figures, essentially blobs, were only barely recognizable thanks to the wavy image. It was you, your hair, your build, your same black tee, all scarcely visible as you were swinging into the buggy's doorless frame - and Ghost's unmistakable silhouette ducking into the driver's seat. You weren't referred to by name, or even referenced at all. It was simple b-roll imagery, one of many more. It's like your five seconds of fame. Briefly seeing yourself on global news before a new image is slid over the previous, returning your existence to obscurity. The newscaster recited the downfall of a dangerous plot, bringing justice to those injured in the London terrorist attacks a few weeks before. What about the citizens of Al Mazrah? 

Your grip on your pen tightened. Enough distractions. Just as inspiration begins to flow, you can't afford to have the muses slip from your grasp again and subtract from your crucial role in this machine. The boys chatted about something along the lines of wanting to switch the channel back to sports, and Price's barking disapproval extinguished all hope of that. You shook your head to focus, planting your palm on your forehead in thought. Another turn of the page, a new fresh slate, more room in the book that would serve as excellent evidence in the case that this is brought to a military tribunal. 

"Can I 'ave a peek?" Gaz craned his neck to look at your booklet.

"No, Gaz, you can read it when everyone else does," you chirped back, tilting your book to shield his view dramatically. 

He huffed a laugh, leaning back to stretch to an orchestra of squeaks from the wood chair that filled the otherwise silent room. Inspiration returned to your clouded conscience, reminding you of otherwise forgotten details to quickly jot into your notes. You're on your third draft now, and each new draft comes with clarified recollections. Any good transcriber would be able to deliver an official record in the original language for good recordkeeping. That original would come with a translated version as well so your Western overseers could gather whatever intel they desire. It helps with transparency and hinders any skepticism of inconsistent recollections. 

Soap pulling apart an orange across the table threatened to snap you out of focus. Of course the bastard had to choose the most obnoxiously pungent fruit to enjoy when you need absolute concentration. Silence was occasionally interrupted by Soaps smacking or a page turning loudly, and a kind reminder from Gaz that rain looks to be coming soon. Thanks, Gaz. It was easier than you would've expected to fall into a rhythm of writing, finding it easier to recall the details in original Arabic and saving the translations for when you're farther along. 

Just as you felt confident in finalizing your fourth draft, you noticed Soap's scheme when you glanced up from your paper. Price looked like he was on his third cup of tea, piping hot on the table next to him as he studied blanched papers. Carefully and agonizingly slowly, Soap tilted a glass salt shaker to pour white grains onto a shallow spoon. A glance to his Gaz for his affiliation showed that he had tilted his ballcap over his eyes, entirely asleep, reclined in his chair with folded arms. Meanwhile, Soap was persistent with unwavering dedication. You watched with a raised eyebrow as Soap discreetly tilted the spoon of salt into Price's mug, cautiously returning his raised arm to rest back on the wooden table. A witnessless crime until he noticed your surveillance. He nodded, and you shook your head, returning to the book with a creeping smile. 

The sun had long since set. A flick of your wrist told you it's 22 hundred hours, and creeping exhaustion reminded you of that. Less than 24 hours ago, you were in that bunker with Ghost. Don't think about that. Focus. Another page flip brought you a single page closer to being able to hopefully retire for the night, though you still have a whole English translation to handle after this. Just as focus returned and you rediscovered your rhythm, an imperceptible change in energy caused you to raise your eyes. Price, without looking up from his paper, raised the mug to his moustached lips. Soap's eyes flickered to yours and back to the subject. To both of your horror, or surprise, he set the mug back down with a satisfied sigh. A look that can only be described as what the fuck flashed over Soap's face as he looked back your way. 

So there you sat, at a steady pace, making quick work of the rest of the remaining translation as Soap coyly slipped more bitter salt into his drink, eliciting nothing but a standard grumbly cough from the Captain in response. Finally, just as midnight struck, your chair squealed as you rose to your feet, forcing poor Gaz to snort awake. You slapped the plastic journal down atop Price's stack of papers, catching his eyes rising to meet yours.

"Now go get some sleep. Training starts tomorrow morning," he nodded, taking the journal in his hands.

"Training, eh? What training's that?" Soap chimed in, making Gaz grumble awake at Soap's contrastingly high energy. 

"'Combat Training,' whatever that means," you yawned. "Who knows, maybe soon I'll be able to give you guys a run for your money."

"Hey, wouldn't that be something," Soap laughed. "Maybe I'll pick up some Spanish or something n' give you a run for your money."

"You barely even have English so far, so I'd like to see you try," you grinned playfully, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Some fitness training is necessary if you're going to stay on this team," Ghost's gravelly voice cut into the conversation coldly. "You're long overdue."

The room fell silent. 

"It could save your life, Cricket," Price clarified peacefully, taking another long sip of his tea. "It's just a precaution. We might not always be there to protect you."

"Yes, sir," you voiced through a forced tight-lipped smile.

"Six hundred hours, meet me back in this room for training, Sergeant," Price rose to his feet as well. "I'll introduce you to Lorenzo."

A curt nod and you were excused, armed with a new task to awaken to in the rapidly approaching morning. As you turned to return down the arching hallway, a reverberation of matching chairs screeching across the tile signified the rest of the team rising to retire as well. Were they being sweet, staying up with you to finish your work? Maybe. Or, perhaps they'd just forgotten that sleeping in a bed was an option, and your retirement motivated them to do the same where they'd be entirely comfortable to sleep standing up like horses. 

Your dorm door clicked shut behind your back with a sigh. Another day survived, though it passed like a nonsensical blur. Jets, warships, and global news whirred everpresent in the background. Who knows what the global opinion of your work might be. An exhausted mind couldn't handle the additional strain of pondering what this greater scheme might entail, and you certainly can't afford to lose any sleep over it. 'One day at a time' you reminded yourself as you shucked these brand-new clothes from aching muscles, inside and out. 

The backpack Laswell gave you caught your eye as you sat on the bouncy bedsprings. Without thinking, your hand snaked within to retrieve that pristine boxed phone you'd been given as an apology for your last. Sleek and modern, the newest rendition of your previous phone's model. The truth of the matter is that it no longer holds precious video memories and photos of past adventures, old colleagues and stunning vistas. No contacts, nothing. A blank slate of technology that functioned as an agonizing reminder that your loved ones are just a click away. However their phone numbers had drifted from your memory, obscured by a brutal career that's jam-packed it with lessons and procedures. What you wouldn't give to hear Uncle Chucky's advice right now. He'd probably remind you how dramatic you're being and to stop beating yourself up over nothing. He'd probably be right, too. The thought invited a much-needed sigh to escape your chest. 

A click of the seashell lamp sank the room into tranquil darkness, where smooth sheets felt unimaginably lavish. This extraordinary bliss may just be in contrast to your consistently sub-par sleeping conditions, where painfully average sheets feel like silk and cashmere on your freshly washed skin. Even in darkness, your eyes fixated on the joisted ceiling, transfixed by swirling thoughts as you willed your body to unwind. What will training with this Lorenzo character entail? Will it be just you, or will the rest of them be there to watch the spectacle? Or worse yet, participate. You'd likely die of embarrassment if the latter were the case. Maybe this training will be for the best. It might help you relieve this building stress in your muscles that seek relief at all costs. Though the last time you tried to alleviate stress, you ended up fucking your lieutenant. Hopefully, this won't go that way. 

<< Prev Chapter           Next Chapter>>

Master List

[milkywaygg]

Confidential Affairs Chapter 2

Interpretations of Mama and Papa Cosma go to @amaryllidae

Oh god…what the hell did I do this time? Ugh…can’t this wait until morning?, Euphemia thought to herself as she rummaged around for her phone in her jacket pocket, placing her briefcase back on her desk for a brief moment. Flipping open her cyan Motorola, she went through her contacts and dialed her mother’s number, holding it up to her ear.

“Yes? What is it?”, an icy, feminine voice asked. Euphemia rolled her eyes.

“You know what it is. I just read your email.”, Euphemia said, “Can’t this wait until the morning? I’ve had a long day at work and would really like to get some sleep.”

“Huh…didn’t realize your sleep schedule was more important that your own mother…you know, one of the people that gave you life, Euphemia.”

“Oh my god..”

“Watch your tone!”, the woman snapped, before giving a rather annoyed sigh, “We don’t plan on taking too much of your time, since it’s clear that living your life is more important to you instead of keeping some goddamn dignity. I understand we emailed at a rather late time..”

“This isn’t about Jules, is it?”, Euphemia asked, immediately replaying all the complaints her mother and father had about him, even before the night he got wasted in front of them.

“Just let us know when you’ve arrive, Euphemia.”

Without so much as a see you soon, the woman hung up on Euphemia, leaving her to groan as she picked up her briefcase and wand, poofing herself over to She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s penthouse. It was rather small for a luxury house, as it only have 3 floors instead of 6 or 7 like some of her neighbors. However, it was embellished with gold accents on the outside and was the only one of have it’s own gate. Her family’s color, Cyan, dominated the flowers of the bushes and the wood on the house. Euphemia pressed the gold-embellished doorknob, hearing a loud ringing coming from inside the house.

All of the sudden, Euphemia felt a harsh wind hit her arms, hugging herself as she attempted to keep herself warm. It was almost as if she were a lost dog, waiting to be let back in after a cold, rainy day. This is so stupid…why did they summon me over here if all they were going to do is bitch about Jules? And…why was I so stupid to do what they asked.

Before she could swim in her thoughts however, the door opened, revealing a tall woman with a silvery, cyan, long hair, wearing an equally long black dress complimented by gold and silver jewels. Her ruby red lipstick scowled at her daughter as her sky blue eyes studied the maggot in front of her, almost as if Euphemia had transformed into a cockroach overnight. Oh..how Athena would love to do that to her right about now.

“Took you long enough.”, Athena spat, allowing Euphemia into the house, “Take a seat. We’ve got important matters to discuss…Severus! Get the papers off my desk in my office, would you? Euphemia’s here.”

Athena led Euphemia into their rather extravagant living room that was almost completely coated in a pearly white. Though the couch was a soft, velvet white, Euphemia couldn’t help but feel as if she were sitting on a prison bed, awaiting execution, staring dramatically at the glass coffee table in front of them. At last, her father, Severus, slammed several papers down on the table that seemed to be decorated with all sorts of number, dollar signs, and tiny letters that Euphemia was too tired to make out at the moment. As soon as her husband sat down, Athena chuckled as she picked up one of the papers, clearing her throat to get Euphemia’s attention.

“You know dear, you really ought to get your address changed. Ever since you’ve moved out, we’re still getting your mail!”, Athena laughed, almost sarcastically, “Anyhow, I was looking through your credit card history..”

“Wait, you looked through my mail?? You can’t do that-“, Euphemia began to retort, before her mother’s harsh voice snapped through.

“I am your mother, Euphemia! I am the head of this household, therefore, I can do as I please.”, she yelled, “Anyhow, I was looking through your expenses and I couldn’t help but notice that you charged nearly $900 on a platinum, emerald green, floral design, engagement ring from Moonlight Jewelers. This ring of yours…it wouldn’t happen to be for that little skank you’re living with, is it?”

“So what if it is? It’s not your right to tell me what I can and cannot do with my money. Who do you think you are.”

“Your mother…or ex-mother is who I think I am.”

“What? Ex-mother?”

“Yes.”, Athena responded calmly, “Your ex-father and I came to an agreement to cut you off, albeit a bit rushed. You know, all of this could have been avoided if you had that married that Fairywinkle man instead. Strong, comes from a successful family, rich, doesn’t act like a whore-“

“Ok first off, how dare you say all those things about Jules! He’s a wonderful, caring man. I like Matteo just fine and well but I hate to break it to you. He and I will never be more than just friends!”, Euphemia yelled, getting up from her seat, ‘You don’t know how much joy and happiness Jules brings me. Every day, I get the privilege of seeing his beautiful face in the morning, and I feel like the world stops spinning. He’s everything I wanted in a man, and I can’t stand her and let you two talk shit just because he's not rich.”

“It’s not even just because of that.”, Severus butted in, his nose wrinkling, “How can you put up with someone who acts the way he does. So ungentleman like…you’d think after how your mother and I had raised you, you’d take better control of your man.”

“W-What?? Ok..that was one party. He just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all.”

“That’s still no excuse! Euphemia, I don’t think you realize that we’re Von Strangles! Doesn’t that name mean anything to you?”

“It means that I’m the daughter of two assholes who won’t let me live my life.”

“Excuse me?!”, Athena yelled, slamming the paper back down on the table, “You will refrain from speaking to us like that. Otherwise, you can carry your sorry butt home!”

“Heh, is that really a bad thing?”, Euphemia smirked as she got off from the couch, “I didn’t even want to be here in the first place.”

“Alright you know what? Get out, and don’t you dare come back!”, Athena yelled, engulfed with rage as Euphemia went out the door with a somewhat high and mighty posture to her. Although Severus tried to calm her from behind however, Euphemia’s rather pompous, victorious stance pushed Athena over the edge. She grabbed out and wand and pointed it at her daughter; a bright yellow beam emitting from the star tip. She watched as Euphemia turned into a rather large, teal toad that hopped around confusedly over what had just happened.

“There. Since you think you’re SOOO much better than a Von Strangle, you can hop your pathetic self home! To think I could ever have a daughter like you…”

Jules tapped his fingers on the armchair nervously as he glanced at the clock. It was well after midnight and Euphemia still hadn’t made it home. What could she be doing this late? Was she out getting drinks? She has been a lot more stressed out ever since that party incident. Jules felt himself wanting to disappear after he remembered how he acted. That high sugar, strawberry shortcake martini had such a strong affect on him. He remembered how his voice sounded like he was being fast forwarded, and how on some instance, he thought he was a dog, licking and barking as if he were one. He also remembered all the judgmental stares he got from the other party guests before he eventually puked all over his tux and passed out.

He was sure Euphemia would leave him after all that and yet he found himself head over heels in love when she presented him with his emerald, flower engagement ring. If Euphemia had forgiven him after everything that happened, then why was he seeing less and less of her.

Suddenly, there was a loud pound at the door, jolting Jules towards the door. He opened it and stared across the street with a blank look on his face, before he heard a loud RIBBIT coming from the doorstep; it’s owner being the cyan toad.

“Euphemia? What happened?”, he asked, before giving a small, loving smile, “Ooh wait, I’ve seen this before.”

He knelt down and picked the toad up, holding it lovingly in his arms before giving it a small kiss on the cheek, taking a sudden step back as the toad turned back into Euphemia; her hair frazzles and her body shaking violently.

“Are you alright? Come on honey, why don’t we sit down?”, Jules said calmly, leading Euphemia towards the couch, sitting her down, “What happened? Accident at work, dear?”

“No…just…”, she mumbled, her heart aching as Jules’ green eyes flooded with concern. She absolutely hated it when he worried. Despite all the arguments she had with her mother, the one belief she did share was that the woman was meant to provide for the household. If she comes home to a stressed out partner, then what kind of woman was she? He shouldn’t have to worry about a thing, “Uhh…yeah, work accident. I wouldn’t worry too much. Everything’s fine now.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t seem ok to me.”, Jules’ frown deepened as he got closer to Euphemia, lying his head on her broad shoulders, “Pleaseeee tell me what’s wrong? I wanna help.”

“Don’t worry about it darling. Just…I guess I’m just a little stressed out from work, that’s all.”, Euphemia mumbled, “And mom and dad are on my ass again.”

“Oh golly, I’m sorry darling…I-I have a surprise for you though, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jules didn’t say anything but smiled widely as he straightened himself up, allowing his slight belly bump to show up. Once Euphemia had processed what he was trying to tell her, she immediately got up and grabbed him, dipping him, and pulling him into a passionate kiss, Jules allowing it happily. They continued to kiss as Jules tried to pick himself up and sit back down, feeling his heart pound as Euphemia looked at him happily.

“How far along are you?”

“I still need to see the doctor. I made an appointment for tomorrow while you’re working..Oh golly..can you believe it. A baby!”

“I hope they look just like you.”, Euphemia smiled, kissing his lips softly again.

“And I hope they’re as smart as you.”

Before long, Euphemia had forgotten everything her mother had told her a few hours earlier and gotten ready for bed, alongside the father of her soon to be baby. Despite this nasty, awful nagging feeling that she was getting for a reason she wasn’t sure yet, Euphemia got in the covers and dozed off, eager to start this new chapter in her life. It was only in the morning where she realized that maybe…just maybe…the timing could have been a bit better.

[ubalpineindia]

Elevate your workspace with modern office executive desks for peak performance. Get a quote to buy luxury designs professional tables.

For details visit https://www.ubalpine.com/executive-desks/

or call us at +91-9266147772,

or email us at info@ubalpine.com

[iconicofficeblog]

Elevate Your Workspace: The Magic of Personalized Office Furniture in Dubai

In the vibrant city of Dubai, where business meets luxury, creating an office space that reflects your company's identity and boosts productivity is key. One of the most effective ways to achieve this is through personalized office furniture online in Dubai. Let's dive into the world of customized executive desks, chairs, lounge furniture, Meeting Table, Face to Face Workstation and storage solutions and discover how they can transform your workspace into a haven of creativity and efficiency.

Tailored to Perfection: Bespoke Furniture Design Services in Dubai

Bespoke furniture design services in Dubai offer a world of possibilities when it comes to creating furniture that perfectly aligns with your business needs and preferences. From selecting the finest materials to choosing unique designs, these services allow you to tailor every aspect of your office furniture to suit your style and functionality requirements.

Crafting Your Ideal Desk: Customization Options for Desks in Dubai

When it comes to desks, customization is key to creating a workspace that enhances productivity. In Dubai, you can choose from a variety of customization options such as size, shape, materials, and additional features like built-in cable management and storage solutions. Whether you prefer a sleek modern desk or a more traditional design, personalized desks ensure comfort and functionality.

Comfort Meets Style: Personalized Chairs for Dubai Offices

Comfortable seating is essential for long hours of work, and personalized chairs offer the perfect solution. In Dubai, you can customize everything from chair dimensions and ergonomic features to upholstery and color schemes. Say goodbye to uncomfortable seating and hello to chairs that support your posture and style preferences.

Customizing your office furniture and carpets in Dubai offers a myriad of benefits, from improved functionality and aesthetics to enhanced productivity and morale. By harnessing the power of personalized design, you can create a workspace that inspires creativity, fosters collaboration, and reflects your unique brand identity. So why settle for standard when you can customize and elevate your office space to new heights? Start exploring personalized furniture options and office carpets in Dubai today, and transform your workspace into a thriving hub of success and innovation.

[uroborosymphony]

"I can't be like you," María says and she reels herself back in last second just in time enough to avoid making it sound like she's snapping. In the end it fades into something more petulant than anything else, which has María grimace at herself and then stare up at Deva again. "You're, like... I'm not level-headed like you. Maybe I don't want to be. Don't you want to... act sometimes?" ((hyello~ >:3))

In the year following the 74th games, victors Cesare Rosales & María Castro ; a year of agitation in Panem as the social crisis, trials and executions rise, a year before the Quarter Quell.

Deva's eyes land on Maria from across the room. To each one of the younger one's words, the leader listens carefully. She understands. She understands it all. The rage. The anger. This unadmitted need to just burn it all to the ground. To Maria's last words however, Deva's sharp eyes bend into a glare, narrowing. Slowly, she crushes her cigarette down the ashtray on her desk. Does she Act sometimes? "Watch it." Speaks the leader, her eyes on the smoke escaping from the incandescent stick. "I know you are angry right now but do Not disrespect me." Eyes now up, back on Maria. There is something naturally authoritarian in Deva's tone, demeanors, and ways - and so, even though she does not raise her voice, it is harsh, like a razor made of ice. Truth is : Deva too is angry, not at Maria no, at the ongoing situation in Panem. A group of young ones from District 8 have been arrested in the night - it was a confidential matter only the Heads of the Capitol and Snow's private Militia were aware of. Maria only got the information by overstepping. The arrested ones were up to the number of 10 : 6 boys and 4 girls from the lower social statuses aged from 18 to 23, accused of conspiracy against the Capitol, now threatened of being executed. It wasn't anything new in Panem, however a matter that seems to happen more and more frequently these days - something the Capitol wanted to hide at all cost, was it the beginning of another social crisis? To kill the opposition against the power is typical of any dictatorial political system - and here is standing Maria, almost accusing Deva to be part of it by not standing up against it. The regal stands up from her leather chair, in her usual colors - a lady suit, the blazer taken off, her white shirt first buttons already undone, the pants are black and golden by the belt. "I've been at this game for twenty years, you weren't even born. Life wasn't always so Pretty for the victors. Yes, the luxury remains unchanged but their rights was jack shit. Shiny slaves, exploited puppets, suicidal addicts - that's what the victors were. I'm not saying the Capitol doesn't hold us in the palm of its dirty hand still but trust me, not as much. Path and progress was made, our voice now matters and trust was earned. How do I know that? Because Patrick and I took the goddamn hits and we did everything we could to get us this safety, this status, hell, we even get a chair and vote at Snow's table. Do you know how game changer that is? Without all that, you would be under curfew, unauthoriazed to travel back to your district or locked in a room, interrogated, suspected of collaborating with those kids by simply frowning." Indeed, the arrested ones were from the same district as Maria, perhaps another reason the young girl was so angry. Deva walks around the desk and finally reaches Maria's position at the other side of it. They stand one in front of the other now. Even though it's almost uncatchable, there is tenderness when Deva looks at Maria, there is care, there is worry. And deep down, she admires the young one's strength and unapologetic rage. Sadly, the world there are living in is not made for it. "I can't be like you either." The leader speaks on almost a nostalgic tone now. Remembering pieces of her own youth. "I once was... Just once. And it felt good, so damn good. But it made me lose everything"

Aeri.

"It costs me to play by the rules too, I was not made this way, but to follow the book has its perks as well. I know you want to slice their heads off and piss on their graves. There are so many graves I wish I could piss on. too" Deva speaks, a side smallish smile drawn - not a smile of fun but a smile of reassurance as her hands reach out of Maria's, holding them, tight. "If you truly want to help them, you can. You got cards in your hands, you have to play them right. But not by acting up, not by sending yourself to prison by their sides, understood? Cautious. You have to trust me on this."

[office-furnitures]

Highmoon Elegant Office Furniture Dubai offers a stunning collection of elegant office furniture in Dubai, designed to create an ambiance of success in any workspace. With their impeccable craftsmanship and attention to detail, Highmoon Furniture provides a range of sophisticated office furniture solutions that exude professionalism and refinement.

From executive desks and chairs to conference tables and reception counters, each piece is meticulously crafted to blend functionality with aesthetics, elevating the overall atmosphere of the office. The furniture is available in a variety of luxurious materials, including premium wood finishes and high-quality fabrics, ensuring durability and long-lasting beauty.

Highmoon Furniture understands the importance of ergonomics and offers ergonomically designed chairs and adjustable desks to promote employee comfort and productivity.

Their thoughtfully curated office furniture collections cater to different work styles and requirements, providing solutions for open-plan offices, private cabins, and collaborative spaces.

Whether you're looking to furnish a corporate office, a boutique workspace, or a professional meeting room, Highmoon Furniture's elegant office furniture in Dubai is the epitome of sophistication, creating an environment that inspires success and fosters a sense of pride among employees and clients alike.

Visit https://www.highmoon.ae/ Visit:

Visit: https://www.highmoon.ae/shop/product-category/chair/executive-chair/

For more contact us: Call or WhatsApp: 0542520519

Toll-Free: 800446666

Email: inquiry@highmoon.ae

* Quality products at affordable prices.

* Customer support is available 24/7.

* Easy returns and exchanges.

* Payment options include cash on delivery.

* Online ordering system.

* Fast deliveries.

Office Executive Desk, Office furniture, Summer Sale Furniture, Office Furniture summer sale, office chairs dubai, highmoon office furniture, office furniture dubai, ergonomic office chairs dubai, executive office chairs dubai, office furniture suppliers in dubai, modern office chairs dubai, mesh office chairs dubai, cheap office chairs dubai, best office chair brands in dubai.

[manovlog]

Ajman Weekend Office Furniture Sale – Custom & Luxury Designs

Are you looking for premium office furniture at unbeatable prices? Highmoon Office Furniture presents an Ajman weekend furniture sale, featuring custom and luxury office furniture designed to enhance your workspace.

Upgrade Your Office with Highmoon’s Exclusive Designs Highmoon is a trusted name in the UAE for high-quality office furniture, blending elegance with functionality. Whether you need a corporate makeover or a stylish home office setup, our diverse collection offers:

Custom Executive Desks & Workstations Tailored to match your professional style.

Ergonomic Office Chairs Comfort and support for long working hours.

Conference & Meeting Tables Impress clients with premium meeting spaces.

Storage Solutions Efficient filing cabinets and bookshelves.

Reception & Lounge Furniture Stylish and welcoming designs for your office.

Special Weekend Sale – Limited Time Offer! Take advantage of our exclusive weekend discounts and transform your workspace with custom-designed furniture at affordable prices. Whether you need a modern, minimalist, or executive setup, Highmoon has the perfect solution.

Visit Highmoon Office Furniture Today! Don't miss out on this incredible opportunity! Visit our showroom in Ajman or browse our online store for the best office furniture .

Contact Us  Website: highmoonofficefurniture.ae Mail ID: inquiry@highmoon.ae Phone: +971 52 677 7706 Address: Highmoon Office Furniture – (Showroom), 2-213, Umm Suqeim Street, Al Quoz Industrial Area 4, Dubai

[mrfurnitureae-blog]

Mr. Furniture: Your Trusted Partner for Premium Office and Home Furniture Solutions

Introduction

In the competitive world of furniture, Mr. Furniture has carved a niche for itself as a leading supplier of high-quality office and home furniture in the UAE. With a focus on providing stylish, durable, and functional furniture, Mr. Furniture offers solutions that cater to both corporate offices and residential spaces. Whether you are furnishing a small home office or an expansive corporate space, Mr. Furniture is known for delivering furniture that enhances the aesthetics and functionality of any environment.

1. A Wide Range of Products

Mr. Furniture offers an extensive collection of furniture, ensuring that every client’s needs are met, no matter the size of the project. Here are some key categories of furniture available:

Office Furniture: Mr Furniture provides a wide variety of office furniture, including ergonomic chairs, adjustable desks, executive desks, conference tables, and filing cabinets. Their designs are both practical and stylish, offering office solutions that improve employee productivity and well-being.

Home Furniture: For residential spaces, Mr. Furniture offers everything from comfortable sofas and elegant dining tables to stylish storage solutions and modern bedroom furniture. The pieces are designed to suit various tastes, from contemporary minimalism to classic luxury.

Custom Furniture: One of Mr. Furniture’s standout offerings is their ability to provide custom furniture solutions tailored to the specific needs and preferences of their clients. Whether you require bespoke office desks or unique storage solutions, Mr. Furniture can create pieces that fit perfectly within your space.

2. Quality and Durability

Mr. Furniture is committed to offering high-quality products that stand the test of time. They source materials from trusted manufacturers, ensuring that every piece of furniture is built with durability in mind. Whether it's solid wood for home furniture or industrial-strength metal for office chairs, their products are designed for long-term use.

3. Design and Aesthetics

The aesthetic appeal of Mr. Furniture’s pieces is a testament to the company’s focus on design. With a team of skilled designers, Mr. Furniture creates furniture that enhances the look and feel of any space. From sleek modern designs to more traditional styles, their product range ensures there is something for every type of interior.

4. Affordable Prices and Exceptional Service

Despite offering premium products, Mr. Furniture ensures that their prices remain competitive, providing excellent value for money. Their customer service is exceptional, with a team ready to assist you throughout the purchasing and installation process. Whether you need help with choosing the right furniture for your office or need post-purchase support, Mr. Furniture’s team is dedicated to providing a seamless experience.

5. Sustainable Practices

In line with global trends, Mr. Furniture is also committed to sustainability. The company strives to source materials responsibly and is increasingly offering eco-friendly furniture options. By choosing sustainable production methods and materials, Mr. Furniture contributes to a greener environment.

6. Why Choose Mr. Furniture?

Comprehensive Selection: Whether for your office or home, Mr. Furniture offers a variety of pieces that cater to different styles and needs.

Quality Assurance: All products are made with top-quality materials, ensuring durability and longevity.

Customization: Custom furniture solutions tailored to your space and preferences.

Affordable Pricing: Premium furniture at competitive prices, ensuring value for your investment.

Expert Customer Service: Professional support from selection to installation.

Conclusion

Mr. Furniture is your one-stop shop for all your furniture needs, offering quality products, excellent customer service, and a wide selection to suit both office and home settings. With a focus on style, functionality, and durability, Mr. Furniture ensures that your investment in furniture enhances your space for years to come. Whether you're furnishing an office or home, Mr. Furniture is the partner you can trust for premium solutions.