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pascaloverx · 27 days ago

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BABYBOY

PREVIEW: NICHOLAS CHAVEZ x READER

Author's Note: As a test to see if this fanfic might resonate with others besides myself, I’ve decided to share a preview with you all. If you enjoy it, please leave a comment! I haven’t yet decided whether I’ll continue writing it. This fanfic is for those who’d love to imagine themselves in a romance with Nicholas Chavez. I should warn you that there’s a possibility the reader might get involved with Nicholas while he’s still in a relationship with someone else, though nothing is set in stone yet.

AO3 link one

PREVIEW

You are utterly doomed—there is simply no other way to describe your situation. As most of your groceries tumble to the floor, you realize you've locked your boss's dog inside his luxurious apartment. What a splendid mess.

"Baby! Baby, don't get upset. I'll rescue you as soon as..." You shove your hands into your pants pockets but fail to find the cursed key. You now remember leaving the keys on the counter right after ushering Baby inside the apartment to fetch the groceries you'd left in the hallway.

"Damn it! I'm screwed, absolutely screwed," you exclaim loudly. Normally, in a posh building full of important people like this, you would temper your voice. But your boss is the sole tenant on this floor—or so you thought until you see a half-dressed man emerge from the apartment across the hall, visibly alarmed.

"My goodness, is everything all right?" he asks, stepping closer with genuine concern etched across his face.

"Not exactly. My boss's dog is locked inside the apartment," you reply, doing your best not to focus on the fact that he is nearly naked, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, and instead on the sound of the puppy barking. "Baby, I'll rescue you soon. No need to stress. Just listen to my voice and stay calm," you say to the dog, who seems to settle down.

"Excuse me, but did you leave a dog or an actual baby inside the apartment?" The man—who, you must admit, is very attractive—asks in a deep voice.

"There’s no time to clarify that. Baby has anxiety. He’ll get overly stressed, start chewing on himself, and lose his fur. When that happens, my job will be out the window. And poor thing, he’s so cute. Could you please help me?" you plead, trying to keep your nerves under control. Your boss devastatingly handsome neighbor flashes you a roguish smile, as if considering his options.

"Wouldn't it be better to call a locksmith?" he suggests, stepping closer to the door, testing how securely it’s locked.

"That would be ideal, but by the time a locksmith gets here, Baby will either be in a stress-induced coma or have eaten the few groceries left on the floor within reach. So, I’m begging you, emotional support hot guy, help me out here," you implore, your voice edging toward desperation. Your hand clings to his arm in a bid to either earn his sympathy—or steal a moment to enjoy the feel of him.

"That leaves us with only one option. Breaking down the door would certainly solve one problem, but it would undoubtedly create another, wouldn't it?" he asks, as though he already knows the answer—which, of course, he does. Yes, it would create a problem, but you're confident you can have the door fixed quickly, thanks to the connections you've gained as your boss's employee. However, your boss would never forgive you if anything happened to the dog.

"No offense, but I'm willing to take the risk. Please, break down the door and save my day," you reply, gazing into his bright, beautiful brown eyes. He hesitates, but as Baby's barking grows more insistent, he relents. Adjusting his stance to attempt the feat, you suddenly realize the absurdity of him doing this while nearly naked.

"Perhaps you might want to put on some clothes—" you begin, but before you can finish, he’s already forced the door open with the strength of Hercules. Baby bolts out of the apartment, tail wagging joyfully, heading straight into the arms of your boss's attractive neighbor.

"I think he’s grateful for the rescue," the neighbor says, remarkably still holding onto the towel around his waist.

"He's probably upset that I left him alone and is punishing me," you reply, pouting slightly to appeal to the dog’s sympathy. For a moment, Baby whimpers as you pet him, but he soon relents and accepts your affection. When the neighbor, now standing upright, lifts the dog to hand him back to you, his towel slips to the floor. Your eyes catch the sight of his completely bare physique before you instinctively cover them with your hands.

"I believe it’s best if you take the dog while I go put on some clothes," he says, his tone tinged with embarrassment. You stifle a laugh, the memory of the divine sight you just witnessed lingering in your mind.

"I mean, I’d love to, but I’d have to open my eyes, and that would mean seeing your body—practically carved by Greek sculptors—and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable," you reply, keeping your eyes tightly shut. He chuckles softly, the sound deep and surprisingly pleasant. "Is that your way of saying I look like a Greek god?" he asks, clearly entertained.

You flush with embarrassment, realizing how disastrous your attempt at flirting must have sounded. "Horrible pickup line, right? I get flustered in situations like this," you confess, desperately trying to figure out how to grab the dog without accidentally disrespecting his modesty—or making things even more awkward.

"Here’s the plan," you suggest, "you pass Baby to me while I raise my arms, and I promise to keep my eyes closed the entire time." Determined to maintain your composure, you steel yourself, mentally repeating your goal: focus on the dog, nothing else.

He carefully places Baby into your hands, and you hold the little dog close. When you finally open your eyes, the neighbor is no longer there. With a sigh of relief, you decide to gather the scattered groceries and put everything in order. Once done, you prepare Baby’s special food and, to make up for the ordeal, give him a soothing massage.

When Baby finally drifts off to sleep, you remember the chocolate cake you had baked earlier. Grabbing a slice, you head to the handsome neighbor’s apartment.

"I know you might be feeling embarrassed, but I brought you a piece of chocolate cake as a thank-you," you say, holding out the dish between the two of you.

The man looks at you with a warm smile, taking the dish from your hands. His hands are surprisingly soft.

"I wasn’t embarrassed, just busy," he replies with an intriguing charm. "But I’ll enjoy your cake and let you know—you owe me a coffee."

"Am I interrupting you?" you ask, curious about what—or who—has been keeping him occupied. "Wait, how exactly do I owe you a coffee?"

Your curiosity seems to amuse the man before you, who leans casually against his open door, holding the dish with the chocolate cake in hand.

"The cake covers the rescue," he says with a teasing smirk. "But the coffee? That’s for the striptease I unintentionally performed for you earlier. Seems fair to me." His mischievous gaze lingers on you, playful yet bold.

You stifle a chuckle, tilting your head as you meet his eyes. "I suppose we’ll save the coffee for another time since you’re clearly occupied. But I’ll consider your case, emotional support hot guy," you quip, your tone light as you attempt to sneak a peek inside his apartment.

His home is as stylish as you might have imagined, the kind of space that exudes effortless charm. The soft strains of music playing in the background suggest he’s not alone, perhaps entertaining someone he hopes to impress. His lips curl into a knowing smile, as if catching your subtle glance inside. "You’ve got a sharp eye, don’t you? Careful, or I might think you’re more interested in my life than the coffee."

"Who wouldn’t be curious?" you reply, flashing a playful grin before stepping back toward your own door. "Enjoy the cake."

"Hey, I feel like we’ve skipped a few steps. If we’re going to keep running into each other, it’s probably important that we know more than the fact that you’re terrible with locks and I ended up naked in front of you," he says, stepping closer with a hint of interest in his eyes.

"My name is Nicholas," he continues, extending his hand toward you. You reach out to shake it, but instead, he lifts your hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on its back.

"Y/N," you reply, feeling a little flustered by the gesture. "But I doubt we’ll see each other that much. I’ll probably be fired soon after all of this."

"I hope you keep your job—and your spot across from my apartment. I think I’ve grown attached to Baby," Nicholas says with a grin, his voice laced with an undeniable charm. "And don’t forget, you still owe me that coffee."

You can’t ignore the spark of chemistry between you, though you tell yourself it’s probably just your imagination. "Wish me luck, nudist neighbor," you reply with a small smirk. "And if you ever need career advice, you might have a future as a professional striptease artist." The words escape your lips before you can fully process them, leaving you both embarrassed and bold. Without waiting to see his reaction, you step back into your boss’s apartment, closing the door behind you. As you wait for the locksmith to fix the damaged door, you can’t help but replay the encounter in your mind, a smile tugging at your lips.

#nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez fanfiction #Spotify #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez fanfic #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez angst #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas chavez #neighbors au #dating a celebrity #famous x reader #female reader #nicholas chavez x female reader

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i-did-not-mean-to · 7 months ago

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MAY-U - Glorfindel x Erestor

This story has been written for @sortumavaara and is accompanied by chibis made by this amazing artist!

Chibi commissions are open!

Characters: Glorfindel x Erestor

Prompts:Neighbours - Locksmith - If you ask me to beg, I'll beg

Words: 2 110

Warnings: a kiss (and potentially criminal activity)

Glorfindel squinted at the door accusingly.

The very next day, he vowed, he’d finally buy a doorstopper to keep those pesky drafts from accidentally locking him out of his flat when all he’d wanted to do was retrieve his mail.

Of course, it might have been a supremely silly idea to do so in the middle of the night, but—being a busy professional—he tended to these domestic chores whenever the thought struck him.

Unfortunately, even the best, most earnest resolutions in the world wouldn’t unlock his undeniably firmly closed front door now.

He considered calling Elrond, but he suspected that he’d gone through all of the seven spare keys his friend had been squirrelling away for emergencies: one, he’d lost at the mall, the other had fallen down an open manhole, two of them were surely somewhere inside his inaccessible apartment, and he couldn’t remember what happened to the others for the life of him.

Maybe, he mused, one was still in the old, battered car he owned but never drove. That sudden burst of inspiration did not help him much either, as the key to that accursed vehicle was in his bathroom drawer, inside his flat.

Fishing his old, battered flip phone, the little battery in the top right corner flickering alarmingly, out of his pocket, he reviewed his options with as much level-headed rationality as he could muster.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that his friends, annoyed and incredulous as they would undoubtedly be, would offer him food and shelter in his hour of need, but the thought of their faces and sympathetic cooing made his blood run cold.

Blowing a stray strand of golden hair out of his face, Glorfindel sagged against the closed door in dismay.

How did this always happen to him?

He was an accomplished ophthalmologist—respected and cherished by his colleagues and patients alike—and yet, he seemed utterly unable to manage something as fundamental as not leaving his flat without a key.

“Hello there, do you need help?”

Glorfindel shot up, banging his head against the doorknob and yelping loudly.

He’d never heard his mysterious neighbour, occupying the flat at the end of the landing, speak this many words in a row. And they were addressed to him!

“I’ve locked myself out,” he confessed in a tiny voice.

“Again?”

Grimacing, Glorfindel brought his hands to his face to hide from the disapproving gaze of the handsome stranger. If even his neighbour, who’d never granted him more than a sharp nod in passing, had caught on to his shortcomings, what were people in general thinking and saying about him behind his broad, muscular back?

“I could help you with that,” the other went on, callously disregarding Glorfindel’s existential crisis in his unshakeable pragmatism. “But you’d have to pay me the common rate for an emergency locksmith.”

That made Glorfindel look up once more; he’d always been so distracted by the darkly magnetic aura of the furtive, slender man with the impressive glower that he’d never stopped to notice that his clothes, while well-tailored, seemed rather threadbare and had been mended with meticulous skill.

The complex they inhabited was far from cheap to live in, and an ungracious but pervasive thought arose in Glorfindel’s befuddled mind: How could this man afford to pay his rent?

As far as he could tell, the mysterious siren with whom he shared a floor and the occasional lift ride went out at all hours of the night, often only returning after morning light when Glorfindel, rising from another night of bleak insomnia, got ready to go to work himself.

“Are you a locksmith?” he asked suspiciously.

“Something of the sort,” the smirking man gave back with a nervous shrug. “I can open your door, right now, isn’t that what matters?”

Glorfindel hesitated for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Erestor, but don’t worry, there won’t be an official bill.”

The unshakeable sensation of doing something wicked and reprehensible overcame Glorfindel, but he nodded solemnly. “Very well, Erestor. I shall pay you…and I’d like to invite you to stay over for dinner sometime. As a reparation for the time you’ll lose getting me out of this mess?”

Cocking one eyebrow, Erestor moved down the hallway to retrieve his tools from his own flat. “This won’t take all evening,” he said calmly.

“Maybe…it could?” Glorfindel heard himself say in a voice that sounded considerably more suave and confident than he felt.

As soon as he was alone in the hallway again, Glorfindel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation; his glasses were in the flat and his head had started pounding with a tension headache five minutes ago.

He truly hoped that Erestor would make good on his promise to overcome the treacherous lock quickly.

"You have to move away from the door," a soft, mocking voice resounded.

Glorfindel’s head snapped up, and when he beheld Erestor once more, his tongue went numb in his mouth—he’d tied up his glossy, dark hair neatly and squatted down before the lock, squinting at it in concentration.

The alluring shape of his behind and the elegant curve of his spine didn’t go unnoticed, and Glorfindel desperately tried to redirect his wandering thoughts to something less incriminating.

“Listen, I’m an ophthalmologist—if I can offer my professional services to you one of these days…”

Looking up from his work, his hands enviably steady, Erestor merely cocked one eyebrow. “My eyes are fine, thank you. There just seems to be a considerable amount of lint and other debris wedged into this lock. Do you ever check your key before ramming it into the keyhole?”

Shamefacedly, Glorfindel had to admit that he did indeed not do such a simple inspection.

“I see,” Erestor mumbled distractedly. “No problem!”

His slender wrists were moving delicately until Glorfindel heard the telltale click echoing through the deserted hallway, and his heart sank.

“There we are,” Erestor declared, provocatively pushing open the door and stepping back.

“Do you…want to come in?” Glorfindel asked, all but stumbling over his words.

To his surprise, Erestor seemed to consider his invitation for a few seconds before shaking his head in what looked strangely akin to dismay and regret. “I must be somewhere else. Another time, maybe!”

Softening that ambiguous rejection of Glorfindel’s clumsy advances with a radiant smile, he strode towards the stairwell, tucking his tools surreptitiously under his arm.

Glorfindel threw his suitcase on the bed—he’d only just come home from a symposium about new laser technologies, and he already yearned to be anywhere other than his deserted, slightly disorganised flat.

For three days, he’d been bathed in the company of his peers. At that moment, he’d found them rather dull and boorish, but he now regretted every ungenerous thought bitterly as the gaping emptiness of his own home seemed to expand like a black hole, ready to suck every last drop of light and happiness out of his soul.

Just as he was about to do something laughably dramatic, though, he heard the loose board outside his front door creak treacherously.

Rushing to the spyhole, he was taken over by a recklessly idiotic idea—so much for having overcome that first impulse of madness!

Before he could give himself a moment to think things over, he strode out the door and looked around as if searching for something, pointedly feigning not to notice Erestor standing just outside his own flat.

“I was sure I’ve left it somewhere around here,” Glorfindel mumbled, his eyes glued to the worn carpet, and suppressed a grin as he heard his door clunk shut. “Oh misery!” he exclaimed. “Locked out again! And it’s the middle of the night!”

“I wouldn’t have thought that eye doctors have to work this late,” Erestor commented dryly, gesturing at the long, white coat Glorfindel was wearing and his uncharacteristically neat, smooth hairdo.

“I’ve only just come home from a medical convention,” Glorfindel explained defensively, as he didn’t want the other to get exactly the right impression of what was happening here.

“And, instead of going to bed and resting, you came out here to search for…” Erestor cocked his head quizzically as if it was entirely normal to have vaguely flirty conversations with one’s neighbours in the middle of the night.

“My bag,” Glorfindel replied, trying his best to look appropriately crestfallen. “My medical bag! It was full of goodies too!”

“As I surmise that you’ve been inside your flat already, I dare say that you’ve retrieved your key from said bag and consequently took it in. Do you need help looking for it?” It was evident in Erestor’s tone that he hadn’t in the least bought Glorfindel’s little subterfuge. “I could unlock your door again, and tonight, I have no other plans, so I’d gladly take you up on that late-night snack if you’re not too tired.”

Startled, Glorfindel stared at the apparition in worn grey overalls—had he ever found sturdy work garb to be this attractive before?—partially obscuring a clean, orange button-down until he was sure that his eyes were positively bulging out of his skull.

“Or did you change your mind in the meantime?”

At once, Glorfindel shook his head vehemently, carelessly unravelling his uncharacteristically tidy bun. “By all means, unlock my door and come in!”

All fatigue seemed to have drained out of his system, and he was shifting from one foot to the other impatiently, overjoyed at the prospect of observing those nimble fingers at work again.

Erestor smiled, tapping his skilful fingers against his toolbox playfully, and waited patiently.

“If you want me to beg, I’ll beg,” Glorfindel murmured, suddenly struck with how profoundly unreasonable his whole ploy had been. “I just want to get back into my flat…now more than ever!”

With a breathy peal of laughter, the unorthodox locksmith bent to his task, humming happily under his breath at the sight of the flustered doctor hovering above him.

As soon as the door swung open with a protesting groan, Erestor burst into laughter. “Your pesky bag seems to have hidden in plain sight! It’s right there, in the middle of the foyer, glaring at us!”

Ducking his head in shame at being found out, Glorfindel slunk in and threw an exasperated look into his clean but empty kitchen—he’d not been home, and he knew his fridge to be woefully empty.

“Can I maybe tempt you with delivery food? I’m afraid I don’t have anything edible in the house,” he confessed, avoiding Erestor’s amused gaze.

“Aren’t you a doctor?”

“I’m an eye doctor,” Glorfindel laughed. “And pizza is food for the soul!”

That was a statement with which even Erestor, contrary by nature, couldn’t disagree, so he followed his distracted host into a slightly cluttered living room where he simply halted.

“You may sit,” Glorfindel invited, hoping that he could at least unearth something to drink from the depths of his refrigerator.

“I’m dirty,” Erestor replied.

“Take the overalls off!” Moving towards the kitchen slowly while also refusing to take his eyes off his guest in case he took him by his word, Glorfindel wracked his brain for something smart and charming to say. “Do you also come from work?”

“Something of that kind, yes,” Erestor grinned. The sound of the fastenings of his protective garment coming undone echoed through the tense silence between them, and Glorfindel swallowed thickly.

The need for a beverage was both eclipsed and exacerbated by the revelation of Erestor’s maddeningly form-fitting trousers and impossibly unwrinkled shirt, leaving Glorfindel hovering on the threshold of the kitchen indecisively.

“Are these yours?” Erestor asked with a hint of sharp interest in his voice as he held up a pair of lightweight glasses that had been threatening to slip off the coffee table.

“Hmmm,” humming his embarrassed assent, Glorfindel decided that the refreshments could wait a little longer.

“Very sexy! Put them on for me,” Erestor demanded, getting to his feet and padding over like a sleek predator on the prowl. “I do want you to have all your senses about you when I name my price for my second rescue mission!”

“I thought I’d pay for dinner,” Glorfindel said somewhat sheepishly as he took his glasses and slid them onto his face; Erestor’s impish expression—his twinkling eyes and the tiny wrinkles around his smirking mouth—came into sudden focus.

Before he could dispel the suffocating mist of confusion and desire pervading the room, Glorfindel felt a strong, slightly calloused hand wrap around the back of his neck, and then, warm, soft lips brushed across his own.

“That too,” Erestor smiled. “Later. Much later!”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the last one for May!

Lots of love from me!

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theemmtropy · 2 months ago

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I think I've found the wildest piece of music history in existence. So I went to a audio/visual store today, and they had vintage cassettes, and I was amazed to find a Travelling Wilburys one. The Travelling Wilburys were a musical supergroup consisting of Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Roy Orbison, and Tom Petty. (I've linked their most popular songs, just in case you're not sure who they are.) So I was very excited to add it to my collection. (Side note: it plays great.) Upon opening it up this evening, I was looking at the inside pamphlet, you know, the kind that has designs and track lists and such. And I found an incredible piece of fake lore for the band, which I have typed out (CW for brief racial stereotype):

“The etymological origins of The Traveling Wilburys have aroused something of a controversy amongst academic circles. Did they, as Professor “BOBBY” Sinfield believes, originate from the various Wilbury Fairs which travelled Europe in Medieval times, titillating the populace with contemporary ballads, or rather, were they rather derived from “YE TRAVELLING WILLYBURYS”, who were popular locksmiths during the Crusades used to picking or unlocking jammed chastity belts (rather like today’s emergency plumbers.) Dr. Arthur Noseputty of Cambridge believes they were closely related to the Strangling Dingleberries, which is not a Group but a disease, an unpleasant form of crotch-rot; arguing that a “WILLBERRY” is often used as an expression for a piece of crud found in the crevice of an ancient pair of y-fronts; but I think this can be discounted, not only because of his silly name but also from his habit of impersonating Ethel Merman during lectures. Some have even gone on to suggest tenuous links with the Pillsburys, the group who invented Flour Power. Dim Sun, a Chinese academic, argues that they may be related to “THE STROLLING TILBURYS”, Queen Elizabeth the first’s favourite minstrels, and backs this suspicion with the observation that The Travelling Wilburys is an obvious anagram of “V. BURYING WILL’S THEATRE”, clearly a reference to the closing of Shakespeare’s Globe theatre by Villiers during an outbreak of plague. This would account for the constant travelling. Indeed, many victims of plague and St. Vitus’ dance literally danced themselves to death, and it is this dancing theme that resurfaces with The Wilbury Twist. Not a cocktail but a dance craze, reminiscent of The Wilbury Quadrille made famous at Bath in 1790 by Beau Diddley, and the Wilbury Waltz, which swept Vienna in the 1890’s. One thing, however, remains certain. The circumambulatory peregrinations of these itinerant mundivagrant peripatetic nomads has already disgorged one collection of popular lyrical cantata, which happily encapsulated their dithyrambic antiphonic contrapuntal threnodies as a satisfactory auricular experience for the hedonistic gratification of the hoi polloi on a popular epigraphically inscribed gramophonic recording. Now here’s another one. Tiny Hampton (Professor “TINY” Hampton is currently leading the search for Intelligent Life amongst Rock Journalism, at the University of Please Yourself, California.)"

(I've included links that might help contextualize the jokes/puns/references that I could pick up on.)

HELLO?????? WHICH ONE OF THEM WROTE THIS I NEED TO KNOW

And APPARENTLY, they all had Wilbury personas.

And BEST OF ALL, they named their SECOND ALBUM (which this is pulled from), "VOL. 3". IM WHEEZING.

#travelling wilburys #traveling wilburys #bob dylan #george harrison #jeff lynne #tom petty #roy orbison #classic rock #music #my stuff #music history

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brymanslocksmith · 1 month ago

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What do you do when your key no longer wants to flip? Replacing the key shell on these keys can be a nightmare because if you're not careful when opening it, you can damage the circuit board. It's best to leave it to a skilled and trained locksmith professional in Columbus, Ohio. At Bryman's Locksmith, we provide emergency key replacement, so you're not stuck out in the cold for too long trying to get back home. We cut all and program all our keys on-site, so you don't have to worry about getting it towed to a dealership to get your car running again. We provide transparent and affordable pricing for our customers and pride ourselves as the best locksmith in our neighborhood in Dublin, Ohio. If you need someone urgent give us a call at 614-787-4124

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24hour-locksmithrichmondtx · 1 month ago

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24 Hour Locksmith Richmond TX

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#Car Key Duplication #Unlocking Car Door #Key Replacement #Change Locks #Home Security #Rekeying Locks #High Security Locks #Access Control Systems #Commercial Door Locks

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24hourlocksmithhouston-blog · 9 days ago

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24 Hour Locksmith Houston

Our Locksmith can provide all of your needs including: Emergency, Commercial, Residential, Transponder Keys, Car Remote, Keyless Remote, High Security Keys, Lock change-out, key matching, Lock Repair, Eviction Service and Ignition Repair. Our team of expert’s locksmiths is on call and ready to provide you with the absolute best service possible. It's our goal to supply you the same quality of customer service and attention to detail that our reputation has been built on for over 10 years.

It is very common to face unexpected situations in everyday life. Getting yourself locked within your garage or losing all the keys to the door does happen when least expected. Rather than getting tensed about it, call us and see how we solve your problem for you just as easily. Our locksmith in Houston will respond to you immediately to solve any of your security issues.

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houstonlocksmithservice · 7 months ago

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Houston Locksmith Service Pro

Many companies may claim to be a locksmith company; we know that we are a trust worthy locksmith business. A reliable locksmith in Houston is no longer hard to find. Houston Locksmith Service Pro services all of the Houston Texas areas. As an affordable locksmith, it is our job to make sure that you are given the best service, cheap prices, and quick response times to your emergency locksmith issues. Houston Locksmith Service Pro has many different locations that are conveniently placed around the city. So no matter where you are located we can get to you quickly. opening doors repairing locks emergency locksmith car key replacement Master Key Systems High Security Locks Residential Lockouts Lock Installation (281) 962-8468 12645 Memorial Drive Suite F1 129, Houston, TX, 77024 Mon-Sun 07:30AM - 10:00PM

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theshatteredrose · 5 months ago

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Secrets: Best Left Untold? (Chapter 24) - Etrian Odyssey Untold 2 Fanfiction

AN: Once again I’m really sorry for the wait. My birthday is coming up and its apparently a big deal to others. But to me it means I’m getting ooooold. Though, I suppose I should be glad that I am, in fact, growing old XD Anyway, hope you enjoy reading nevertheless~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FFNet

Chapter 24:

Flavio sat silently in the tearoom with his guildmates and with matron Hana, his attention focused on a random button on his coat as Fafnir explained to the dedicated inn-keeper what had been transpiring for past week and a half.

As Fafnir explained, Flavio tried not to wince and recall how for nearly two weeks he had dealt with unwanted flowers, creaking floorboards, and eerie presences outside his door. How a simple lock on the door prevented someone from soundlessly breaking in and a stabbing of a knife into the wood was a sign of their frustration.

Last night…last night was the worst. They had tried to set Fafnir’s old room on fire. They must have believed he still roomed there. Or was it just a warning?

“Oh my!” Hana gasped in surprise when Fafnir finally finished detailing their situation. “I had no idea!”

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” Flavio said.

Hana immediately turned to him and reached over to pat him on the arm. A motherly, sympathetic gesture. “Oh, honey, you shouldn’t have to apologise. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Flavio tried to smile but it came out weak. “It feels like I have.”

Hrothgar walked over to stand behind his chair and leaned over to rest his hands upon his shoulders. “That’s the psychological warfare that they’ve been using on you. Hoping to isolate you. You mustn’t allow them to get to you like that.”

Right. He had to remember that.

“Do you know of the man that we described to you?” Bertrand asked Hana, referring to the so-called veteran explorer that Bertrand believed was working in tantum with Flavio’s stalker.

Hana leaned back into her chair and tapped her cheek with her finger. “Hmm. No, I’m afraid not. No one of that description has been staying at the inn. Paying to stay, I should say.”

So, he was just loitering about, pretending to be a guest?

“Hana, do you have to have a spare set of keys for the inn?” Fafnir suddenly asked. “Specifically for the back doors?”

“Well, yes,” Hana immediately replied. An expression of sombre realisation soon appeared on her face and hurriedly pushed herself up out of her seat. “Oh dear, I hope it hasn’t gone missing.”

Hana quickly paddled out of the tearoom and everyone fell silently as they awaited her return. Minutes stretched by, which only made them shuffle about on their feet or in their seats anxiously. The longer that Hana took could only mean one thing…

“Well?” Flavio asked hopefully as Hana padded back into the room.

But Hana shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not in its usual place.”

Bertrand sighed aloud and folded his arms across his chest. “So, it’s been stolen.”

Flavio felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. How could they have known where the key was and what it was used for? Who could have stolen it?

“It’s a key for emergency exits only, not for the private rooms, thankfully,” Hana quickly explained to ease their concerns.

“We figured as much,” Fafnir returned, giving the inn-keeper with a small smile. “They would have used it by now.”

Flavio suppressed a shiver at the thought.

Hana placed a hand against the side of her face in a sign of despair. “Oh dear, I must call for a locksmith right away.”

“Would you like us to do anything?” Fafnir asked.

But Hana shook her head. “You kids go to the tree festival and try to enjoy yourselves. I’ll get a locksmith to come and change the locks right away. I will also arrange for a Be On the Lookout for our so-called veteran explorer. He won’t be gallivanting around this inn ever again!”

That brought a smile to Flavio’s lips. “Thank you, Hana. I really appreciate it.”

… … … … …

It was mid-morning when everyone regrouped in order to make their way to the Christmas Tree festival. Flavio stood out the front of the inn, dressed in a warm, thick winter coat as a light, gentle snow fell around him. Fafnir stood a few yards away, speaking with Bertrand about something. Something about his security detail, no doubt, as there were to be a lot of people at the festival.

With him stood Arianna, who found some resemblance of peace being out in the lightly falling snow.

“You’re not going to visit Regina at the hospital today?” he asked.

Arianna raised her hands to catch a small snowflake. “Dame Regina has requested some time to herself. She is going to spend some time with her family.”

Flavio nodded his head idly. “With it being so close to Christmas, that would be a good idea.”

Arianna fell unexpectedly silent as she stared at the snowflakes in her gloved covered hands. She watched as they melted upon the fabric, her expression pensive and perhaps even a little sombre. “Are you still upset?” she asked softly.

It took Flavio a moment to realise that she was referring to their conversation in the tearoom yesterday. About the restaurant and about Regina. And how the chef with the high society background regarded him.

He suppressed the need to sigh. An added piece of drama he did not need.

“A little,” he admitted. “Is she?”

“A little.”

They were both going to be for a while, most likely. Two stubborn-headed fools.

Flavio tugged his coat closer around him as he studied the young woman next to him. “You seem more upset about it than I am.”

Arianna did not immediately reply. Her gaze was elsewhere, not looking at anything in particular. Lost in her own thoughts. “…I suppose I am,” she finally said. “You did not deserve to be treated that way. And…I am ashamed of my own actions. I feel as though I took advantage of it, too.”

When Regina was playing matchmaker for her and Fafnir.

He was sure there was no malicious intent on Arianna’s part. She just wanted his time and attention. And ultimately his affection. He could not fault her for that. Though she was a princess, she was a young woman. Any young person her age would want nothing more than to spend time with their crush. It was an undisputable fact. It was normal.

After all, that was what he wanted, too.

Maybe Flavio should have been more assertive from the beginning. Put his foot down and said enough was enough. Same with Fafnir. The two of them could have been more forthcoming with their thoughts and feelings. They just…did not want to stir the pot, as it were. Cause trouble or friction within the guild.

Flavio resisted the urge to sigh aloud. Well, he failed miserably at that, didn’t he?

Ginnungagap made everyone so afraid of losing one another that they vowed to do whatever was necessary to prevent causing any trouble or stress for each other. So much so that they unintentionally did just that.

He hated those god forsaken ruins so much…

“Is everyone ready to go?”

Flavio plastered a smile on his lips upon hearing Fafnir’s voice. “Yup, all ready.”

Fafnir immediately made his way to Flavio’s side and then took the lead. They did not need directions as the festival was quite a big deal, with placards and advertisements pointing the way. The large crowds of people gathering together also pointed the way.

The festival was well and truly in full swing. And it appeared to be quite the event.

Stalls of both the food and souvenir varieties lined the streets, decorated in bright and gleaming Christmas decorations. On every second corner were bands of troubadours playing and singing both cheerful and peaceful Christmas carols. The gently falling snow added to the festive atmosphere.

Fafnir slipped an arm around Flavio’s waist and tugged his closer to his side. To keep him close and to ensure that the crowds did not separate them. Well, that was likely his excuse, anyway.

Not that he needed one.

The voices of others having fun, the soothing songs of Christmas, the smell of deliciously cooked food, and Fafnir’s strong arm around his waist – Flavio felt himself relax as he leaned into Fafnir’s touch.

As they passed a particularly strong-smelling food store, Flavio’s mind immediately wondered back to the restaurant. If it had not been the target of a malicious arsonist, they may have had a stall at the festival, too.

Or simply had Flavio working all day and night as waiter and host, as per usual.

Flavio shook his head. No, he needed to at least try to enjoy himself.

“What should we do first?” Flavio decided to ask.

“Let’s visit the Tree of Wishes first,” Fafnir answered. “After that, we can do whatever we fancy.”

“Sounds good.”

As they walked through the masses, heading toward the large Christmas tree located in the centre of the city, Flavio side-eyed the stalls of trinkets and novelties. He still needed to get Fafnir a Christmas present, but what could he get him that would convey all the gratitude and love he had for him?

As far as he was concerned, nothing could.

He needed to give him something for Christmas. Maybe he could ask Hana to borrow her kitchen for a few hours and cook him something? Though, he would be imposing upon Hana on such a hectic time of year.

Ugh, so frustrating!

He had not asked Fafnir lately, so maybe now he would tell him what he wanted for Christmas.

After a few minutes of walking, they finally reached the centre of town, along with many others. But what greeted them was a little unexpected. Flavio knew that the main tree, the fabled Tree of Wishes that he had heard about, was to be quite large.

But not this large.

He was not good with measuring height, but it was such a large tree! How they managed to get such a large, and alive, tree into the centre of town was truly a miracle.

It was such a beautiful tree, though. The light sprinkling of snow only added to its beauty, enhancing the immaculate Christmas decorations. The bottom of the tree, however, was covered in small paper tags with red ribbons, reaching at least seven foot up the tree.

Upon seeing a group of explorers gathered around an attendants’ booth, Fafnir prompted everyone to venture toward it also. A young woman immediately wished them a Merry Christmas upon laying eyes on them.

“This is our first time,” Flavio explained.

Before he could ask anything more, the attendant smile broadly and launched straight into an explanation, “It’s easy! Write your most deepest wish upon this paper tag and then tie it to the tree. If the Spirit of Christmas favours you, your wish may come true on Christmas day.”

Without asking how many were in their party, she dutifully counted out six paper tags and pointed toward a row of shaded tables and stalls. “Venture over to those tables to write your wish and then join the line to add your wish to the tree. Have yourself a Merry Christmas!”

Flavio retrieved the tags and smiled. “You, too.”

With people lining up behind them, and with the explanation easy to remember, Flavio and the others quickly made their way to the tables as instructed. He handed out the tags to everyone, which they readily took and turned to the tables, and grabbed the writing utensils to write down their wishes.

Flavio followed to do the same, but he paused.

His most deepest wish…?

Well, he supposed that was an easy one. His deepest wish was to remain by Fafnir’s side forever and always. That would never, ever change.

Flavio wrote his wish down easily, the words coming out swiftly. He looked up to glance at everyone else, noting that they were still writing down their wishes. Likely pondering just how to word it. Or even having difficulty in how to answer such a supposedly simple question.

“I’m done,” Flavio said as he placed his hand on Fafnir’s shoulder. “I’ll stay in sight as I tie it to the tree. Don’t worry.”

Fafnir frowned, not entirely happy.

“I just want to look at the tree, too, so I won’t wander,” he promised.

“Alright,” Fafnir finally relented. “I won’t be long, anyway.”

Flavio simply nodded his head. He grabbed his wish tag and ventured toward the tree. Thankfully for him, there was not a line at the time, so he walked straight up to the tree and searched for a moment to find the perfect spot. A spot that was within Fafnir’s line of sight, of course.

There were many wishes already placed upon the tree and Flavio did his best not the read any of them. After a few minutes of searching, he finally found the perfect spot. A branch that was head height for him and was not as busy as others.

He reached up and carefully tied his wish to the tree. He tied the ribbon tightly, but ensuring not the, well, harm the tree. A little bit silly, probably.

After he was done, he stepped back and just gazed upon the tree. He had not had the chance to view many Christmas trees in his life. Especially up close and ones so beautiful. He wondered who decorated it and how. An army of volunteers, no doubt.

A sudden surge of a large group of people gathering around the tree caused Flavio to step aside. Not exactly a problem.

But before he attempted to see if he was still within sight of Fafnir and the others, a hand suddenly grasped his elbow firmly and pulled him sharply to the side. His heart thundered in his chest when an arm he did not recognise or want wrap around his shoulders.

“Mustn’t get lost in the crowd.”

That voice…

Flavio snapped his head up and found himself staring into those unearthly, unnerving green eyes once more. He immediately tensed, his features unexpectedly heating up as he abruptly pulled himself out of Mandelson’s grip.

“E-excuse me.”

He hoped Fafnir did not see that.

Mandelson half smiled, half smirked at him as he slipped his hands into the coat of his long winter coat. “What a coincidence, to find you before the Tree of Wishes.”

A coincidence, huh? Certainly, a strange coincidence. Wonder how the guy knew that Flavio would be at the tree of wishes. Though…everyone was to visit the tree at some point. He could have waited for him.

For some reason.

Suddenly, their previous conversations raced through his mind and he stilled. He should not say anything. It would be wrong. It was none of his business. The guy would likely find some joy in it. In being right.

“Um, I need to apologise to you,” Flavio said. “You…were right about the restaurant. I was just a means to an end.”

Mandelson was honestly surprised by his words. The smirk dropped from his lips and his eyes widened a fraction at his admission. His surprise lasted only a moment before his unnerving gaze unexpectedly softened into a look of sympathy.

It was…a very soft look. Gentle and sincere. Something that surprised Flavio in return.

“…I’m sorry,” he said.

Flavio shook his head and gave him a small smile. “It’s all right. At least I won’t have to worry about it happening again.”

This man…Flavio truly did not know how to regard him. Arrogant and haughty one moment, then sincere and gentle the next. If he remained consistently arrogant, it would have made it so much easier for Flavio to up and dislike him.

He was complex and confusing.

Oh, right! Whether their meeting was a coincidence or a set-up, Flavio was glad to be face to face with the man. He could finally know for sure if Connolly was right or if he truly was a rambling conspiracy theorist.

Flavio lifted his gaze toward Mandelson’s face and as hard as it was not to be drawn into his truly supernaturally vibrant green eyes, he focused on studying the man’s face. And his eyes widened as his heart raced.

He did not have a mole. Anywhere. At all.

Mandelson arched an eyebrow at him, likely amused at him openly gaping at his face. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to snap Flavio from his staring.

Flavio nervously licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Mandelson tilted his head to the side, still highly amused.

“What happened to the mole under your right eye?” he asked, slowly, carefully. “Like the one you had in the photo in the Stickleback Bar?”

Mandelson unexpectedly stilled; his green eyes wide. “…What?” he made no attempt to reach for his face, to touch the place where his mole should have been. More telling, he did not immediately launch into an explanation of having it removed. Of it being unsightly and having it gotten rid of. Some talented medics held the ability to remove scars, after all.

No. He simply looked…lost.

“Wh-what photo?” he asked, a startling stutter in his voice.

“At the Stickleback Bar,” Flavio explained, purposely keeping his voice calm, level, not at all confrontational. “When you were at the grand opening of a school. You don’t remember?”

Mandelson, however, looked positively rattled. “O-oh, an opening-?”

He did not remember. Or was it he did not know?

Could Connolly have been right? Could the man before him not be the same man that stood for the photo back in the bar? But why? How?

What if…?

“Do…you know Connolly?” Flavio asked.

Mandelson physical reaction was instant – his face drained of colour and his eyes widened. His mouth opened in an attempt to speak, but nothing came out at first. Just a sound. A soft noise of pain. A squeak, even.

His reaction was surprising. Flavio had never, ever seen someone respond in such a way. He looked pained, shocked, confused. A myriad of emotions. And he did not know why.

“…Connolly…?” he muttered.

The way he said that name…there was no doubt in Flavio’s mind that Mandelson, or whoever he truly was, knew who Connolly was.

Without any warning at all, Mandelson buckled forward at the waist and frantically clutched at his forehead with his right hand. He staggered back a couple of steps and groaned softly under his breath.

“H-hey!” Flavio stuttered out in alarm and reached out to him. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

Mandelson shook his head, his fingers grating through his hair painfully. “C-Connolly…”

Flavio timidly touched his arm. “You know him?”

The fingers in Mandelson’s hair tensed abruptly before he slowly raised his head. And peered at Flavio through the partings in-between his fingers.

Flavio swallowed back a yelp of surprise.

His eyes were no longer that vivid, eerie green. They were brown. A deep, earthly brown. A normal shade. Tired, weary, yet scared and unnerved. But they were definitely a different colour.

No way! His…eyes changed colour?

“S-stay away from Schaffer.”

“Schaffer?” Flavio repeated. “Who-?”

“Lord Mandelson.”

Mandelson’s eyes widened in pure horror. “Schaffer…”

Flavio spun around, where a tall, elderly stood directly behind him. Salt and pepper hair, slick back into a tidy ponytail, and a silver rim monocle over his left eye. He had a tall, imposing posture. A truly haughty presence, looking down upon Flavio with barely restrained distain.

He walked around Flavio, his disgust held back by sheer will, and stood next to Mandelson. Who of which seemed to…cower before him. Until the man, Butler, placed a hand on his back.

Flavio felt a very strange sensation. A cold trill down his spine. He was not sure where it came from, but it somehow felt familiar. Was it from the cold winter wind around them?

“We must not meander around the peasants,” Butler stated arrogantly. “We have much better affairs to attend to.”

“Ah, of course.”

Gone was the tremor from his voice as Mandelson stood up tall and placed his hands confidently into the pockets of his coat once more. A half smile full of conceit returned to his lips as he regarded Flavio with an air of amusement.

His eyes were back to that illuminating, eerie emerald green colour again.

“Let us depart, Schaffer,” Mandelson said simply as he turned on his heel to walk away.

Schaffer nodded his head before he turned a narrow gaze of utter distain in Flavio’s direction. “I suggest you stay away from Master Mandelson,” he simpered before he, too, turned on his heel and ambled away.

Flavio was left absolute, unquestionably stunned.

Wh-what was that?! What just happened?

That man…he looked familiar.

“Flavio!”

Flavio immediately spun around and lifted an arm to make his appearance more noticeable. “I’m here!”

Through the growing crowds, Fafnir pushed his way through, an agitated frown on his face, the others not too far behind him. He was not frantic, however, so it was possible that he had not seen him speaking with Mandelson.

Even so, Flavio could not keep it from him.

“It’s getting too crowded,” Fafnir immediately complained as he reached him, his arm instinctively slipping around his waist. “I lost sight of you for a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Flavio immediately replied as he snuggled against Fafnir’s chest to ward off the cold that suddenly enveloped him. “The crowds pushed me aside. I stayed put, though, so not to wander too far.”

“Where did you tie your wish?”

“Oh, not far. Just over here.”

It took Flavio a couple of minutes to find the branch and he helped the others to tie their wish to the tree. As he did so, his mind continued to focus on what had occurred.

With the others preoccupied with chatting about their wishes and the tree, Flavio took Fafnir by the elbow and pulled Fafnir aside. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but I ran into Mandelson.”

Fafnir immediately bristled. “What?”

It was clear that Fafnir still believed that Mandelson had some kind of connection with his stalker situation. Perhaps even believe him to be the mastermind behind it all. But after what Flavio just witnessed, he knew beyond doubt that he was not the responsible.

No one was that a good of an actor.

“Fafnir, something is very wrong with him. I don’t know what, but…” Flavio hesitated, not entirely sure how to word what he had witnessed. “God, this is going to sound so strange, but I don’t think he’s in control of himself.”

And that Connolly could actually be right.

“What do you mean?” Fafnir asked, his brow furrowed.

“His eyes changed colour.”

“What?”

Flavio nodded his head. “Yeah. They turned brown in front of me. They changed to the colour brown, Fafnir. You can’t mistake the stark colour change.”

Fafnir continued to frown as he took stock of Flavio’s words. He looked down at the ground before he glanced over at Bertrand and Hrothgar. “In that case, I think I might send Bertrand and Hrothgar to give this Connolly guy a visit. Let’s see what else he knows about this Mandelson.”

#etrian odyssey #etrian odyssey untold 2 #fanfiction #fafnir/flavio #flavio #fafnir #secrets: best left untold?

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