#they closed the roads half our employees need to use to get into work over this stupid thing so everyone has been late

[a-lonely-dunedain]

Golf is so dumb bc it’s like rich people invented the most boring and needlessly expensive sport imaginable just so that they wouldn’t have to interact with poor people at their sporting events and somehow expect us to take it seriously instead of just pointing and laughing

[endmeenby]

Chapter 2: Y'all it took me 20 minutes to log into Ao3

Angel was going to be sick. He wasn’t even paying attention to the game. He was locked on that fucking contract. It was right there, he could grab it and rip it up. It wouldn’t do anything but maybe it would feel good at least. And now he understood, now he understood why Valentino had brought him here. Angel wasn’t here to charm anyone, he was his backup plan. Another chip to throw on the table. He saw himself laying under all that money as more powerful men played over him. It actually sounded like a half decent script.

Husk’s voice brought him back to the game. “You hitting or staying?”

Valentino had 17. He was sweating, he was nervous. He was still thinking. Fuck, Angel wished he was high. Anything to get his consciousness away from the table.

Val tapped two fingers against the velvet. Husker slid him a card. A 5 of hearts.

“Bust, house wins.”

What, the fuck.

“What the fuck!” Valentino had slammed his hands against the table and stood up. The chips and Angel’s contract all rattled like leaves in a storm. He must have been double Husk’s height, but the dealer wasn’t even phased. Husk just took the scroll from the pile and tucked it in his suit jacket pocket.

“You’re going to have to move to a different table, this one’s closed for the night,” Husk said. He motioned for Angel to follow him and headed towards a door in the corner marked “Employees Only”.

“No, NO! This is not over!” Val shouted. Fuck he was mad. He was fuming. Angel had no idea what was behind that door, but whatever it was must be better than Val in a mood. Angel stood but before he could get a step Valentino grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled up. Just Angel’s toes were touching the ground, fuck, he couldn’t breathe.

“You’re not going anywhere you good for nothing whore,” Valentino spat.

Oh shit, Angel really couldn’t breathe. Was Val actually going to kill him this time? And then Angel fell to his knees, coughing, but he could breathe. Val was still shouting, his ears were ringing. Someone was helping him to his feet.

“You’re alright,” Husk said softly. Angel let himself be led through the Employees only door. Val’s shouting stopped once they were through.

The inside reminded Angel of a green room. There were sofas and coffee tables but they were all mismatched like they had been taken off the side of the road, a stark contrast to the consistent black and red patterns in the main room.

Angel sat on a lime green loveseat, hugging himself. Husk picked up one of those old telephones with the large dial, except this one had no dial. “Hey, Niffty, can you grab us a cup of tea and some of last night’s leftovers?” He said to whoever was on the other side. Even from across the room Angel heard sharp giggling from the receiver. Husk sighed and hung up.

He turned back to Angel. Without saying a word, he took out the contract. Then, it burst into flames. Angel had dreamed of what it would look like. An explosion of ash, a roaring fire. Spectacular, monumental. But it just burnt like any piece of paper would. Husk swept the cinders under the phone table with his foot, and it was gone. Angel touched his neck, the collar was gone too, probably ash dirtying his shoulders. But he still felt the weight and bruises.

It was silent for several minutes as Angel processed what happened and Husk let him. “Why did…Why did you do that?” Angel said.

“I don't make my people sign contracts. If you want to run back and write up another one, go ahead. But hear me out first.”

A deal, okay, Angel could work with this. He squared his shoulders and crossed his legs. He could handle this.

Husk leaned back against the table. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. There’s plenty of rooms upstairs. When you decide you’re fine you can just go.”

“Or?”

“Or, I can give you a job. No contracts, no fuckin’, none of that porn shit. You’d use that famous face of yours to get people in the doors and spending.”

“And losing.”

Husk laughed. “I got that covered. But if you want to use that little stick you were doing with Valentino on patrons to get a tip, fine by me.”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Of course I knew. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book, and I wrote the damn book.”

“So all that losing, was on purpose?”

“I’m sure you know all about making someone feel good to get what you want out of them.”

A demon that didn’t do contracts. Just what the Hell is wrong with this guy?

The door opened and in came a 4 foot 6 housewife carrying a tray of food. Or at least she looked like a housewife with the poofy dress and apron and curled hair. She ran right up to Angel, getting directly in his face.

“New meat!” She laughed the same laugh he had heard over the phone. Then she gasped and essentially threw the tray onto the couch besides them so she could crawl into Angel’s lap and grab onto his face. “You're dirty.”

Well, that stung a little bit. He’d been called a used up slut more times then he’d actually acted like it (which, admittedly, was a lot). But treat a guy to dinner first before you say it. And then the housewife was brushing his shoulders.

“Um, what the fuck?” Angel said. Husk pulled the housewife off and held her in the air. She reached out with her arms and legs to get back onto Angel. She was vibrating from the effort.

“Niffty’s got a weird thing about dirt,” Husker said as he put her down but held in her place. “Tell her to stop and she’ll stop. Or distract her with something.” He gently pushed her towards the door, saying something Angel didn’t catch.

He touched his shoulders then looked at his fingers. No ash. She had been cleaning him. How fucking strange, and kind of sweet.

“Anyway, while you're workin’ here you can stay in one of the spare rooms.” Husk said. “Anything you take off of the guests is yours as long as you don't get caught. I'll pay you a salary too. Work as long as you want or don't.”

“And that's it?” Angel said.

“Niffty keeps the kitchen stocked, if that helps,” Husker rolled up his suit sleeve to check a golden watch. “Take the night to think it over. When you're done eating there's a stairway behind the bar. Take whatever room you want.” Before Angel could say anything, Husk was gone, back on the floor working.

Angel sat there until the tea had seeped into ink. He rubbed his eyes. A headache formed whenever this shit show had started but only now did he have the brain space to feel it. The dull throbbing was the only thing convincing him that this wasn't a nightmare.

But was that really it? His deal with Valentino, gone? And a job that didn't involve selling his ass was just handed to him on a silver platter. No, there's got to be something. The shoe had to drop. But he didn't think it was going to drop tonight and fuck, he was exhausted. A bed to himself sounded good. Some sleep sounds good.

[nwbeerguide]

Two Roads Brewing collaborates with Vermonter, Noah Kahan, to release Northern Attitude IPA.

Press Release

STRATFORD, Conn. ... Craft brewing meets musical artistry with Two Roads Brewing Co.’s new collaborative brewing project with Vermont native Noah Kahan: Northern Attitude IPA. New England through and through, Northern Attitude IPA is a piney, resinous, 7% ABV IPA inspired by the music that Noah’s fans have come to know and love.

“Noah, his music, and his values embody the same Road Less Traveled mindset we take to crafting beer,” said Collin Kennedy, Director of Marketing of Two Roads. “Noah and Two Roads are both from, and of, New England, wear their regional pride on their sleeves and draw upon that region to inspire their respective crafts. So, teaming up with Noah to create a beer that pays homage to our roots and benefits an important cause in The Busyhead Project was just a natural from the start. Not to mention we have a ton of employees that are huge fans of Noah’s music!”

Two Roads and Kahan worked closely together to create Northern Attitude IPA, from taste profile to package design – all while Kahan is on tour. The beer aims to drive awareness and funds for The Busyhead Project, an organization founded by Kahan that provides resources to mental health organizations dedicated to meeting the needs of marginalized communities with both crisis care and tools for sustainable resilience.

Northern Attitude IPA will first be available at Two Roads’ Stratford, Conn. brewery on September 3rd, but fans can also get a taste at Kahan’s upcoming concert at the Hartford HealthCare Amphitheater in Bridgeport, Conn. onSeptember 5th and the Bank of New Hampshire Pavilion on September 6th and 7th.   Following the concert, Northern Attitude IPA will be available in 16 oz. 4-packs at retailers within the brewery’s New England footprint, for a suggested retail price of $15.99.

To learn more about Two Roads and find it near you, visit www.tworoadsbrewing.com.

About Two Roads Brewing Co.

Two Roads Brewing Co., launched in 2012, is a privately owned craft beverage company offering a wide-ranging portfolio of beers, canned cocktails, hard seltzers, distilled spirits, and other Road Less Traveled beverages. Located in Stratford Connecticut, Two Roads is ranked 54th among 9,500+ independently owned breweries in the US according to the Brewer’s Association’s 2021 survey. For more information visit www.tworoadsbrewing.com.

About Noah Kahan

Over the past year, Vermont singer & songwriter Noah Kahan has exploded from his New England roots into the global mainstream and has been touted as one of 2023’s biggest and best new artists. At the core of his music are vulnerable lyrics and an unfiltered yet relatable honesty, as the critically acclaimed artist pens songs straight from the heart and cracks jokes with his signature, self-deprecating sense of humor. Across his three albums and an EP, Kahan has garnered global renown that includes more than two billion streams, a Platinum Certification for his hit single “Stick Season,” and collaborations with the likes of Post Malone, Joy Oladokun, and GRAMMY-nominated artists Julia Michaels and Wesley Schulz of The Lumineers. His widely adored album, Stick Season, is inspired by his New England roots and conveys a vivid representation of what he loves, fears, and struggles with most passionately. Noah has been on his sold-out “Stick Season Tour” across North America since the album’s release last year, selling half-a-million tickets to date and performing in the biggest venues of his career, with newly announced global dates on the horizon. In June, he released an extended version of Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever), which has gone on to surpass sales of the original and shows no signs of slowing down. His latest single, “Dial Drunk,” has already amassed millions of streams and a slew of critical acclaim, cementing Noah Kahan as one of the most successful breakout artists of the year.

[shadyteacup]

Our Crystal Of Love

A Dazai Osamu x Reader angst oneshot

Literally just wrote it in the drafts, unedited

You watched with bleary eyes, as the man you love looked outside the window. You had been planning this trip for weeks now, wanting to spend more time with Dazai. You were so excited for it, too. Days of planning had gone into making this road trip happen. Just the two of you on the road, with music and lots of snacks.

That had seemed so appealing to you. But now, as you drove the two of you through fields of sunflowers, all you felt was sadness in your chest. A pitiful, hollow sadness filled your heart, for the man who you loved, and who claimed to love you back, was a lying cheat. He didn't love you. He was merely using you for information. The case the ADA was working on for the past year required inside information, and you happened to be an employee at a partner company, that houses important files. Your ID was enough to sneak into the building and make copies.

To think you were hoping and planning on getting married... it pained you.

You clutched the steering tighter, the leather digging into your soft palms. You didn't know what to do. If he hadn't been sleeping around for fun, you might've forgiven him. But he just had to go around cheating, proving that he had no intentions of actually staying with you, because he didn't feel anything towards you.

Dazai knew something was off with you. You had seemed distant lately, and it worried him. You were always a happy-go-lucky person, smiling constantly. Your neutral and distant gazes were concerning. He feared you leaving him, for he would lose access to your key card. It was essential to the current case. He made a mental note to make a copy of it.

Glancing sideways at you, he caught you staring back.

Smirking, he teased, "I'm just too good to look at, aren't I?"

At the lack of the usual giggle, Dazai furrowed his brows.

You gave him a small smile and averted your gaze back to the road, making him feel uneasy.

"Pull over."

You frowned.

"What?"

Dazai repeated his previous command.

"Pull over, y/n."

You complied, turning to face him afterwards.

"What's wrong?"

Dazai turned to you and eyed you sternly. He knew something was off, and he had to correct it before things got out of hand. He suspected you knew of his true intentions, but he wasn't sure. He couldn't lose you, so he had to tell you the truth. Well, the half truth.

"I need to tell you something.", he began.

"I've been using your ID to get information. We need it to strategise against an enemy organization; but don't worry, nothing will happen to you."

He would never tell you that he started dating you for the ID.

Dazai waited for you to burst with questions, yet you remained silent, only nodding your head in acknowledgement.

"You knew this, didn't you.", he half stated.

Dazai's eyes widened at your lack of reply.

"When?"

You scoffed, shaking your head.

"Does it matter? I know, and I'm okay with it."

Dazai held your wrist as you began turning the car back on.

"Y/N. When did you get to know? How? And what exactly do you know?"

You eyed his hand, hating his touch.

"I have my sources too, Dazai. And why do you ask? Is there more to the story than you let on?", you countered, watching as the puzzles fit in place in his head, his face going pale. You could tell he knew that you knew the whole truth.

"Darling, it's not what you think."

He waited for you to say something, but you didn't. You just waited for him to continue telling you a pathetic lie to cover up his actions.

"Please, just hear me out."

"I'm listening, Osamu. Go on."

Dazai fumbled, not knowing what to say. It would have been so much easier if you had screamed at him, called him names or even been mad at him. But your blank face told him that anything he said would be a failed attempt.

He had to try, though. He had to try and keep you close, he couldn't lose you. Not when he finally started developing feelings for you, not when he'd been trying to get his mind off of you by screwing around, not when he was so close to accepting that he truly loved you, and that you mattered more to him than some stupid organization.

"I did it for the mission, I agree. But, I don't want to lose you.", he said.

You sighed, fetching your ID from your purse.

Handing it over to him, you smiled sadly.

"Here. Now you won't need me, and I can finally be free."

Dazai stared at the white card, hating it, and hating what it had made him do to you.

"I still want you, it's not about the card, I swear-"

"It's okay, Dazai. I don't care anymore. I just..", you sighed, looking away.

"I just wanted to enjoy one last trip with you, but I couldn't pretend that everything was fine with the truth hanging over my head.", you said, running your hands through your hair.

You hadn't planned on how you wanted to end this relationship. Apparently, this is how it was going to end. You had expected yourself to cry, but you didn't feel a thing. It was as if your emotions had disappeared. All you felt was disappointment. This could have been beautiful, if it hadn't been rotten from the beginning.

"Listen, this doesn't have to be the last trip, we can put this behind us-", Dazai wracked his brain, trying to find a way to convince you to stay.

"We can't. I can't. I'm sorry."

You started the car and thanked the heavens, for Yokohama was not that far away. You had to spend a little while more on the road before you could go home, away from the man who had hurt you beyond belief.

Dazai sat silently as you drove back to Yokohama, clutching onto the pathetic white plastic in his hands. He wanted to yell and shout and scream and beg. He wanted to hug you and kiss you and tell you that he loved you. But he wasn't ready to accept it. Too afraid of the meaning behind this three words, he couldn't say them. He was too scared of this new feeling, of everything it entailed. He wasn't ready. Saying it would keep you from giving up on him, but that would mean lying to you yet again.

He didn't know if he could lie to you ever again.

So he watched your relationship tear at the seams, being ripped apart by his own actions. The beautiful glass crystal you both had built, was now shattering, completely destroying all the good memories you had made. The shards left scars on his heart, making it bleed. He hated the taste of blood.

He knew he held the glue, the only way to join the broke pieces before they broke into a million more, yet, he was too much of a coward to use it.

Is saying, 'I love you', that hard?

Tag list:

@anarchy-black-cat @707xn @evalynanne 

@b-i-t-t-i-e-s @kuraxmasha @syynnaaah @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan-account @alittlesimp @greenshirtimagines @paradise-creator @kiyokoxd @ranposlover @the-foreigner @sakikoshi@h3xa413a @sukunas-cult-leader @ilOvedaydreaming @del1111 @craftypeachmoneyhound @notquitehereorthere @mikasa-stan-account @kenmasbbygrl @alphaofdarkness @duhsies @cees-sims @the-foreigner @uglapuglamuglafugla @sugarandsoft @jadegreenimmortality @flanelsantito @shiny84244 @one-hell-of-otaku-is-here@missrown @requiem626k @sukunas-cult-leader @ilovedaydreaming @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan

[mrsseverussnape]

Hi! I'm sorry I just saw that request somewhere else and thought it was cute. Can I try again?

Can I suggest Alan x Reader and it's the first time they met each other at a Set or something and Alan really liked them but can't talk to them because they're both so busy so he tries to find out who they are and to get known to them? Then they go on a date and click immediately? :)

Fingers crossed! -💚

A/N: hello! Darling don’t be sorry🌸. It was on me, i just couldn’t think Alan like that. The fanfiction turned out little bit different than your request while i was writing it but i think it’s still cute so hopefully you’ll enjoy it💖

The timeline is early 90s.

Lucky Coincidence

You were on your way to your work in early hours, you liked to get out of your home early and walked to the museum where you worked. You have moved to Athens 2 years ago and from the very start you have fallen in love with the city. Especially the early mornings were your favourite, you loved to walk under the tangerine trees while the birds sang their sweet songs. But when you arrived in the museum, your dream-like moment immediately ended. 3 big trucks were parked in front of the museum door and they were blocking the road for the passengers but you showed your museum employee ID and rushed to the museum to see what’s going on. One of your co-workers saw you and your confused expression so she called out for you.

“Hey Y/N!”

You quickly walked up to her passing some people you don’t know. “Hi Eleni! What’s going on here?”

“They are going to shoot a movie here, for Hollywood! The museum made the arrangement last week when you were in your holidays.” Eleni explained excitedly but you weren’t very pleasant to hear this at all.

“So what are we going to do? Also they shouldn’t shoot a movie here, in a museum! They might damage the artifacts!”

“They will be here just for a week and they won’t use and flashes that cause a damage to the artifacts. And what you are going to do is you will give information about couple of sculptures to the actor, the boss wanted you to do this job.”

You sighed in annoyance, nobody has told you anything and now on the work day you found out that they are shooting a movie and you have to help them. “Thanks Eleni, I better see the boss. See you later!”

You made your way to the boss’ office and knocked on the door, you could hear some muffled voices coming from his room. Soon you heard him saying “come in”, when you entered the room you saw 3 more people beside your boss and one of them looked familiar, you have seen him in couple of movies; Alan Rickman.

“Good morning, miss Y/L/N. I was waiting for you. Have a seat please.”

You did as you’re told while greeting him back. He gave you a brief about what is going on and explained your job.

“Meet Mr. Rickman, you are going to help him about the sculptures.”

You were trying hard to hide your grin, maybe that movie thing wasn’t so bad overall. The actor smiled at you softly while holding his hand out for a handshake. You didn’t make him wait for long and shook his hand, you must admitted to yourself his hands were so soft and felt good on your skin.

“Since we met, when do you want to start studying about some sculptures, Mr. Rickman?”

“Now?”

“Alright! Then please follow me. Good day gentlemen.” You said rest of the men while leaving the room with Alan.

“So you are going to portray a history professor?” You started a small chat on your way to the first sculpture.

“Apparently.” Alan smiled softly, his hazel eyes were fixed on you. He wasn’t expecting to have such a beautiful young woman like you as his tutor.

“We need historians who looks like you, then maybe people will be more interested in it.” You blushed like crazy after realizing what you just said. Alan smirked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you can lure people into history too with your pretty face, Miss Y/L/N.”

You bit your bottom lip while peeping to his way.

“Th-that is the first sculpture.” You mumbled while pointing the Aphrodite, Pan and Eros sculpture in front of you, still flushed by his words. He moved closer to you when you started to talk about the sculpture. Alan took a notebook out of his pocket and took some notes. You two walked around the archaeology museum, stopped time to time and you gave him some information about the meritorious artifacts. Alan was amazed by your knowledge but mostly by you. But your little study session cut by a worker who called Alan, saying he needs to get dressed for the shoot. Alan sighed and nodded at the worker.

“I must go… Thank you for your time, it has been a splendid lesson.”

“I am glad you enjoyed Mr. Rickman. See you tomorrow.” You have taken one step away from him when you heard him.

“Alan, call me Alan.”

Your lips formed a smile, turned your head to see him. “Y/N, just call me Y/N.”

 ~~~~

It has been 6 days since they started to shoot the movie and also 6 days you started to give Alan short history classes for his role. You and him kind of grew closer with each day, enjoyed each other’s companies but both of you were real busy with your real jobs beside that sessions, the longest time you two spent together was only 50 minutes. Tomorrow was their last day in Athens for the shooting and the director sent a message to you with a young boy; saying you don’t need to come tomorrow for your study session with Alan because plans have changed and they will be flying back to UK in the early morning. You knew this will last long only a week but your heart broke after hearing this out loud. You have enjoyed your time with Alan more than you wanted to admit, your little study sessions have became your favourite part of your day. And if you knew today was your last day with him, you could have done something special or at least you could say him a good bye. Your mood changed in a bad way after this news and you closed yourself in your room until end of your working hour.

While you were making your way out of the museum, you looked around to see Alan but he was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t want this to end like this, you walked over to his van hoping you might find him there but after couple of knocks you had to accept the fact he wasn’t there either. You were about to leave but then an idea came to your mind. You ripped a page from your notebook and wrote your name and phone number then did slide it under the door.

You were chilling on the sofa with a book when your phone rang. You literally jumped up and run to it, hoping it’s Alan.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” the thick voice ensured you, it was Alan. You jumped slightly out of excitement.

“Yes, it is me.”

“I didn’t know about change of the plans this morning, I would say goodbye to you if I knew…”

You sense the sadness in his voice and it broke your heart, you stayed silent since you had a lump in your throat. Alan continued after a while.

“I know it is quite late but… Can I see you, Y/N?”

“Yes!” you have sounded very excited but you didn’t care about it at all. “I’ll be in front of the hotel in 20 minutes.”

“I will be waiting for you.”

As you have said you arrived the hotel he has been staying in 20 minutes, you saw him there by the door and walking back and forth.

“Alan!”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to your way immediately. “Y/N! Thank you for coming that late, you must be tired…”

You rubbed his arm gently and smiled up at the tall man. “I wanted to see you too, Alan. I was hoping you’d call…” you bit your lip shyly end of your sentence.

“There is not much to do at that hour, so you want to walk and talk?”

“Sounds good to me.”  

You two started to walk on the streets of Athens while talking about everything and nothing. It didn’t take long for you to notice that you two have so much in common. You haven’t talked about anything but the sculptures during your sessions so this surprised you both. You couldn’t help but think if you could meet with him another time, everything could have been different in a better way.

“I quote Plato; ‘According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.’”

“I have never heard it before, this is very interesting.”

You stopped and looked at him in the eyes.

“I feel like you are my other half, Alan... I know it is very early to say this but i just feel like it, y’know.”

His eyes grew in surprise for a second but soon his expression turned into a loving one, his hands found yours.

“I must agree with you, Y/N.” He looked deep in your eyes and leaned closer slowly. Your heart was beating so fast, you thought it might just run away from your body. Alan stopped when your noses touch each other.

“May i kiss you?” He whispered with his husky voice which sent shivers down your spine with anticipation. You nodded eagerly, he chuckled at you before pressing his lips onto your soft ones. It was a gentle kiss but you have never felt that good in your life. Your hand moved to his head, pulled his honey coloured hair gently which caused him to moan into the kiss. You pulled away smirking at him.

“Our lips fit so well too, we are totally soulmates.” You rested your hands on his chest smiling cutely at him.

“No doubt.” Alan kissed your forehead. “I will come back to you whenever i can...”

You sighed, you were back to reality from your dream state. “Don’t forget me...”

“I will never Y/N. How could i forget my other half anyways?” He pulled you in for a hug, you felt so safe in his warm presence and rested your head on his chest. The moon and the starts were shining above you in the darkness of the night while the tangerine flowers’ scent filled your nostrils and you were in the arms of a dreamful man. You couldn’t ask for a better night.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterSeven

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

AO3> Land of Thieves 

Warnings:  18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood.

tags: @mionemymind

It doesn't take long before you reach the town, trotting lightly on the road while keeping your hat concealing your face. You have been to Rhodes a few times before, mostly to play Black Jack at the hotel in town. 

You know it's not the best place to find money-making opportunities, but you lead your horse toward the hotel, where the only decent bar in town is located, to try to find something. Saloons and hotels are always good places where you can hear about business opportunities.

You are relatively surprised to find Carol's sorrel, tied up in the driveway with other horses. You smile, and pet the animal as you dismount from your own horse. And then you walk toward the entrance, ignoring the curious glances that the civilians cast at you, most of them curious to see an outsider woman wearing pants.

Not finding Carol on the fist floor, you immediately assume that she is playing on the second floor, and go up the stairs. You wave your hat at two ladies who look at you in surprise as you reach the second floor.

Looking around as you walk towards the card table, you smile as you notice Carol letting out a laugh as she wins a round. You cross your arms and stop behind the table, watching the game.

- I was told that you were looking for a job in Rhodes. - You mock loudly, attracting the attention of everyone at the table. Seeing that Carol is quick to let out an exclamation sound, suggesting that she knows you, the other players just turn their attention back to the game. 

- Why don't you play with us for a while? - She suggests as the dealer begins to deal the cards again.

- I have work to do. - You say and Carol smiles wryly.

- We always have work to do. - She replies, and you laugh lightly. You watch her win another round, and then she signals that she is done playing. The table lets out an exclamation of disappointment, but Carol just shrugs her shoulders, walking toward you.

- Your friends are upset. - You sneer as she catches up with you and you walk toward the stairs.

- They will survive. - She replies with amusement. You reach the lower level, and walk to the bar. Carol buys herself a drink while you lean on the counter.

- Have you found anything interesting here? - you ask.

- That depends. - She speaks with amusement, and takes a sip of her beer before continuing. - I've encountered rednecks and ranchers with their boots buried in shit who think they are living in the best place in the country. - She sneers, and you laugh lightly. - But I also met the sheriff. They have some kind of feud between two families in this place.

- Really? - You ask and Carol nods.

- They look like those families from that story you liked as a child. - She says, gesturing as if she is trying to remember. - The one with the couple that dies.

- Romeo and Juliet. - You reply in an amused tone, finding the book's description funny.

- Yes, yes, that cheesy thing. - She says. - All I know is that they are filthy rich and they are trying to kill each other.

- Wow, that sounds promising. - You say as you think of the opportunities that might arise with these families of yours.

- I'll check out the families' properties later. - Carol says - I'll ask if they need more guards, or drivers. You know how rich people love to have several employees.

You laugh, agreeing. You are thoughtful for a moment, and Carol frowns.

- What is it with you anyway? - she asks and you shrug.

- I don't know, I'm a bit upset. - You say, turning to lean completely on the counter. - Potts just told me about Knight.

Carol put her hand on your shoulder, as she put the beer on the counter. 

- You know, you could use a drink. - She said as she asked the bartender to pour you both a whiskey. With the drinks in front of her, she raised her glass to make a toast. - To Knight.

You both turned the glass over afterwards, the drink burning in your throat. Carol shook her head and laughed lightly at the strong taste, and you laughed at her frown. 

- Keep it coming, honey. - She told the barman, who served you again. - I remember when I lost my first horse. - she said thoughtfully, before flipping another glass of whiskey. - Talos, he was the fastest Appaloosa I ever rode. Strong and stubborn. Wouldn't let anyone ride him but me, and then he was shot during a robbery.

- That's too bad. - You comment, drinking again. 

- Don't worry, kid. We'll find you another horse. - Carol says, and she gets annoyed at the bartender's delay in serving her and asks him to leave the bottle. After that, your glasses no longer remain empty.

It doesn't take long for the ground at your feet to start spinning along with your head. You are laughing at something, but not sure what. The musician in the bar is playing something very lively on the piano, and you join the people dancing, with Carol leaning an arm on your shoulders. You dance and dance until you stumble out of the bar, looking for a place to relieve yourself.

You stumble between giggles around the outside of the hotel, and Carol leans on you to avoid falling to the ground. You realize that it is already night, and tell the blonde next to you this in a false tone of fear.

- Our wives are going to be so angry. - She comments in a whisper, before laughing again. You follow her.

- Hold on. - You say, as you try to balance yourself. - I think we came from that side.

Carol nods, escorting you back to the hotel. 

You laugh all the way down the hall, and then you feel someone caress your face and your waist making you look up.

A harlot smiles at you, looking at you maliciously. You are too drunk to process exactly what is going on, but you let out a disgruntled grumble.

- Hey sweetie, do you want to come up to my room? - She asks as she presses your bodies together.

- No. - You say, feeling your head spinning. The other woman's perfume was confusing you. You're trying to remember exactly why you weren't enjoying being touched like that, but the alcohol wouldn't let you think straight. You thought it had to do with a redheaded woman. The harlot giggled, realizing your state. You tried to look for Carol, but you didn't see her anywhere.

- Come on, sweetheart. Let's have some fun. - The woman spoke again. You tried to lift her arms off her shoulders, but your muscles didn't seem to respond.

- Sorry, ma'am. - You say half breathlessly. - I think I'm married. - You almost beg, remembering Carol's line. - She'll be angry.

The woman laughs lightly.

- I don't see a ring. - She says holding up your hand. You blink, feeling your eyes tear up.

- Oh my god, have I lost my ring? - You whimper, your stomach starts to turn. 

- Come, I'll make you feel better. - She says, pulling you by the hand. You nod without really understanding what she is saying. She drags you around the room, and you finally see Carol, passed out on the drink counter. You call out to her, but your voice fails you.

And then you are no longer being pulled, and you look forward to see a woman you don't recognize, looking at you with a mixture of anger and concern. She pushes the harlot away, saying words that your drunken brain doesn't understand. And then she turns to you, her lips moving as she places her hands on your cheek, and the warm touch makes your body throb. You think someone is calling you, and you blink in confusion, trying to clear your thoughts. 

- Are you even listening to me? - says the woman, and lets out a grumble. - God, you're completely drunk. - She looks over the back of your shoulder, and you let your eyes wander to her neck, it looks so attractive. You blink in confusion as you are pulled around the hotel, your feet dragging.

- No, ma'am. I'm married, my wife will be upset. - You grumble, feeling your head spinning. 

The woman laughs.

- Oh yes, and who are you married to? - she asks jokingly. Before you know it, you've reached one of the bedrooms.

- I don't remember. - You whine. - My friend told me that my wife would be angry.

The woman doesn't answer, mumbling in response. She sits you down on the bed in the bedroom, taking off your boots. You start humming a song that you think you like.

- Getting wasted in an unknown city, you are so irresponsible. - You listen to the woman grumble, you don't understand why she sounds angry, but you hope she won't be angry with you too.

- Madam, I think I lost my ring. - You mumble, looking down at your hands. The woman helps you onto the bed, and you feel the soft pillows against your head. - Will you help me look for it?

- Yes. Get some sleep and I'll help you when you wake up. - she whispered tenderly. You smile, staring at the green orbs staring back at you with a slight frown.

- I wish you were my wife. - You murmur with a smile before closing your eyes. 

Your head hurts. A lot. You realize it as soon as you try to open your eyes. You grunt in pain, trying to get out of bed. You don't even remember how you got into a bed. And then you look around, realizing that it is a hotel room. Sitting up straight in bed, you run your hand over your face, trying to wake yourself up. 

You are very thirsty and you frown to find a glass of water already waiting for you at the head of the bed. Without thinking much about it, you grab the object and quickly pour the liquid down your throat.

The door opens next, and you let out a surprised exclamation when you see Wanda entering the room.

- Good, you're awake. - She says, but she seems annoyed. And then she lays a set of clothes on the bed. - Put these on.

And then you realize that you're only wearing a nightgown. You frown in confusion, trying to remember anything about last night.

- What happened? - Your voice comes out a little hoarse and you leave the now empty glass on the table. Wanda closes the door and crosses her arms, leaning against the wall.

- You and Carol got completely blasted last night. - She says, a serious expression on her face.

- Where is Carol?

- With Maria, in the next room. - She replies. You nod, stretching your body.

- How did you find me? - you ask, ignoring the latent headache.

- Well, Potts told me you had work to do. And Carol hadn't come back yet, so Maria came to look for her. We found Carol passed out drunk on the bar counter, and you were being dragged by a whore into one of the rooms.

- Oh, God. - You mumbled in shame, covering your face with your hands. 

- No, it's okay. - Wanda retorted, her voice slightly high-pitched with anger. - The woman was clearly trying to take advantage of you, and I told her to go fuck herself. Then she left you alone.

You let out a short laugh, finding Wanda's aggressiveness amusing. But the redhead looked angry, you frowned as you stood up, looking at the clothes she brought you.

- Why are you angry? - you asked, unfolding the shirt. Wanda snorted incredulously.

- You are supposed to be working and I find you completely drunk, almost having sex with a stranger! - Wanda exclaims angrily. You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- What is it now, Wanda? It's not like I never drink. - You grumble, loosening the threads of your sweater. You pull it off over your head, leaving only your underwear on to put on the clean garments Wanda brought you. Since you are both pissed off now, neither of you really registers this. - Besides, I was upset. With Knight's death and all. Carol just wanted to cheer me up a bit.

- Oh, of course. - Wanda said with a tone of debauchery as you put on your blouse. - You clearly tried to cheer yourself up in the first bed that came along!

You laughed wryly. Where were those accusations coming from, anyway? You didn't even remember anything.

- You just said nothing happened. 

- Because I came on time! - Wanda countered. - If I had stayed at the camp, you would be waking up in her bed right now!

- This is ridiculous. - You grumble, sitting up in bed to put on your boots after your pants. 

- But you know what, I don't even know why I'm saying this to you! - She exclaims flatly, and you don't look at her, just wishing this stupid fight would be over with. - You don't owe me any explanations about who you' re going to bed with.

- What?" - you murmur, but then Wanda comes out of the room, slamming the door. You sit there for a good few minutes, trying to understand exactly what has happened.

You hear a knock on the door, and then Maria pokes her head into the room, smiling at you.

- Hi Maria. - You greet her, getting up.

- Hi Y/N. We're going back to the camp, are you coming? - She asks, and you just nod, a sad smile on your lips.

- I still have work to do, and I don't think Wanda wants to talk to me right now.

Maria waves sadly to you, and leaves the room, closing the door. You let out an annoyed sigh, grabbing your hat from the headboard before leaving the room.

Carol waits for you at the bar, and she is drinking water. She doesn't seem upset.

- Hey, good morning. - She says hello and you accept when she pours you some water.

- Not so good. - You mutter as you sit down. Carol giggles.

- I'm sorry about your fight. - She says, and you frown with confusion. She shrugs. - You both talk loud.

You nod in agreement, leaning your face against your hands. 

- Is everything okay with Maria? - you ask, and Carol nods.

- She was worried, but not really angry. - She says, and grabs her own hat, which she had left resting on the counter, and puts it on her head. - Let's focus on work for a few hours, shall we?

- Okay. - You murmur, getting up to follow Carol out of the hotel.

Carol rides beside you as far as the city limits, humming softly. You are lost in your own thoughts, reviewing the argument with Wanda, when you hear her calling you.

- You need money, right? - she asks.

- Yes. - You simply reply.

- I have a hint. - She says. - I helped a fellow at the station. He told me about a carriage. 

You laugh.

- What fella, Danvers? - You ask, and Carol rolls her eyes, laughing lightly.

- It doesn't matter. - she says humorously. You continue riding in silence for a few minutes, then Carol checks her watch. - Well, tell me if you are going to participate or not. I have to be at the meeting point.

Blinking in surprise, you straighten your posture.

- Damn, I didn't know it was this time already. - You comment. - I'm in, of course.

Carol smiles, and leads the way. You slightly speed up the gallop of the horses.

- This is it. - Carol says when you stop in a rather isolated area of the countryside. You thought you were near Saint Denis. - They will come from that direction. Let's wait behind those trees.

Stealing carriages was not a difficult job in general. One just had to be careful that things didn't get out of hand. Fortunately, Carol's contact was precise enough with the number of guards. You fired quickly, giving them no chance to react. And then you noticed the army crest on the carriage and frowned.

- Damn, they were feds? - You exclaimed as you dismounted from your horse, Carol looked as surprised as you were.

- Shit, Alden. - she grumbled. You figured Alden was the name of her contact. - Let's just steal the locker soon, and get out of here.

You nodded, crouching down to feel the carriage vault at the bottom. It didn't take long to find it, and you pulled it to the floor. Using your revolver to break the handle, you let out a hiss as you saw the amount of bills.

- Good job, Miss Danvers. - You joked, counting the money. You divided it into three parts: yours, Carol's, and the Camp's. 

Carol smiled and thanked you, but she continued with that worried look on her face as you mounted again, and rode away.

You were silent for another moment, Carol was strangely thoughtful, so you decided to ask.

- I'm trying to find out if Alden would set me up. - she said, without taking her eyes off the road. - He's not exactly someone who makes enemies. He gives tips for carriage robberies in exchange for a share of the profit.

- Maybe he didn't know. - You comment.

- Yes, I don't think he knew. - She says. - But this is still suspicious. The information he had was that a landowner's carriage was going to pass by. Easy money, few guards. 

- So someone lied about the registration of the trip. - You say, without really caring about it. - Rich people lie all the time. Maybe it is an illegal service. 

- I hope so, kid. - Carol says. - I wouldn't want it to bring trouble.

You nod, and you ride off again in silence. 

It took a while for you to get all the items on Potts' list, but when you finally finished, you stowed the items in the load on your horse, and rode back to camp. Carol was no longer with you, she said she needed to investigate the two families in town, and you waved goodbye.

The camp was quiet, most members were going about their daily chores. You watched Thor demonstrate to Monica how to skin properly, as you passed the hunting wagon, carrying the wrapped items that Potts asked you to buy.

You smiled at Pepper as you handed her the items, and she thanked you by ruffling your hair lightly. 

Looking around the camp, you let out a low grumble, remembering that you had to talk to Wanda. You decided to take a shower first, because even in clean clothes, you still smelled like booze.

- Trouble in paradise? - You tripped in shock while bathing, suddenly hearing a male voice. It was Pietro, who sat on the edge of the lake where you were standing. You had chosen a far corner of the camp to bathe in.

- Hi, Pietro. - You greeted, lathering your own hair again.

- Wanda is pissed off. What happened? - he asks after a moment. You feel your body tense at the mention, but do your best to cover it up.

- We had a disagreement. - You tell. - Actually, I don't really understand what happened.

- Tell me what happened so I know what to say. - He asks with slight amusement in his voice. You roll your eyes.

- Carol and I have had a few more whiskeys than we should have. - You start, and Pietro raises his eyebrows in irony, but you just ignore him. - And then Wanda and Maria came to pick us up in Rhodes.

- Okay, this doesn't seem like a big deal. We already drank more than we should together several times and it never bothered Wanda.  - he comments. And he assumes a thoughtful expression for a moment. - Nothing else has happened?

- I am not sure. She told me that Carol was passed out when they arrived, and that I was being dragged away by a harlot. - You say.

- Sorry, repeat that last part for me, please. - He asked with a mixture of seriousness and humor in his voice.

You frowned, as you repeated the words. It took a minute, and Pietro burst out laughing. You splashed water on him, and he stood up quickly, stepping away.

- She almost punched me when I asked her to switch our chores. - Pietro began, still laughing. - All this because she is jealous.

- What? - You asked in surprise, feeling your heart racing.

- You two are a disaster, I swear. - He commented, as he turned and walked back to the camp.

You spent several minutes trying to understand what happened at the hotel, replaying the interaction you had with Wanda. And then you let out a laugh, feeling your cheeks flush a little. It was funny to think that Wanda was jealous of you, if only she knew how completely in love you were with her, and no one would ever take her place.

Finishing your shower, you put on your clothes and walked towards the campsite, hoping that your girlfriend would be willing to talk to you about it.

Your eyes search for Wanda the very second you enter the tented camp area. You find her at the edge of the lake, away from the rest of the camp, and standing in front of one of the long trees, fishing. You bite your lip to keep from smiling, thinking that she looks absolutely adorable.

You walk beside her, making a noise with your feet so as not to scare her. Wanda turns her head to look at you for a moment, but doesn't smile, turning her attention back to the water.

- Can we talk? - you ask as you stop beside her.

- We are talking. - She replies, still not looking at you. You smile, turning your head to face the water.

- Your brother has an interesting theory. - You begin. - He believes that you are jealous.

Wanda lets out an incredulous laugh, looking at you with irritation. You think she looks pretty.

- Are you trying to irritate me even more? - Wanda says, and you turn to her. 

- Let me show you something. - You ask, offering your hand to Wanda. She rolls her eyes impatiently, throws the fishing rod on the ground, and takes your hand. You smile, but don't take her very far. You pull her gently behind the tree, hiding you from the rest of the camp. You lean your back against the wood as you pull Wanda by the hand to yourself. 

Wanda holds her breath at the proximity, and you smile as you stare at her lips.

- You know, Wanda, you don't have to be jealous. - You whisper, and she blinks in confusion and irritation.

- I’m n...

- Let me finish. - You interrupt with amusement. Wanda shifts her weight from her feet and rolls her eyes, but she doesn't refuse when you place one of her hands on your waist.

- I wanted to show you... - You begin, and use your hands together to guide Wanda's hand down to the level of the buttons on your pants. You feel your heart race, but guide her hand down to your belly, slowly making its way through the fabric of your pants along with the cotton of your panties, until it superficially touches your wet pussy. You both gasp at the contact. - How much I want you. - You close your eyes, bringing your foreheads together. - Nobody makes me feel this way, Wands.

Wanda says nothing for a moment, you feel the tightness in your waist increase. You try not to shiver against her fingers, biting your lips to keep from moaning at feeling her so deeply.

- You'd better not forget that. - Wanda whispers with a mixture of aggressiveness and teasing that makes the spot below your stomach clench. She removes her hand from your pants, and gives you a kiss on the cheek before walking away, leaving you alone, hot and horny against the tree.

[pars-ley]

Bare yourself (part three)

Pairing: CEO Jimin x female reader

Summary: After a serious hack from your office building, fingers start being pointed but in which direction is the right one and where will that leave you and your boss, Jimin?

Genre: CEO au / smut / angst / series / workplace au / strangers to lovers au / boss/employee au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Phone sex / Masturbation m and f / Police interrogation / Explicit language / CEO Jimin

Word count: 3.5k

Beta: @erotikkook thank you!

Notes: Ok, so this took me a ridiculously long time to finish, life is manic but here's the next chapter. Thank you for being patient. Hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @jungkooksbroski @unoriginal-username15432 @yoobikook @vonvi-blog @itsohhonney @kpopnoobsstuff @namyoongles @btsmosphere @autumnbear @ownthesunshine @btstista​

"Miss l/n, we know the hack came from inside the building. All I want to do is find out who's responsible. Which means I need your cooperation." Detective Kim Namjoon peers at you over the frames of his dark glasses. 

"And like I've said, you have my full cooperation. I cannot tell you anything more than I already have." You respond leaning forward on the table, desperate for him to believe you.

He slumps back in his seat and sighs. "Miss l/n, we can't keep doing this back and forth routine. I-"

"Sir, I love my job and I love this company," you interrupt. "I also think very highly of my boss, I. Would. Not. Do. This."

"How high?"

You freeze at his sudden change of questioning. "What?"

"How high?" He repeats. "Is something going on between you two?"

You straighten your back, looking at him through narrowed eyes, feeling the rock of a lie settle in your stomach and weigh you down. "Mr. Kim, I am a professional."

He puts both his hands up in surrender. "No offense intended ma'am. It's just that some of your other coworkers seem quite smitten with him."

You almost roll your eyes, knowing you were probably just as dreamy eyed as your co-workers but too proud to admit it.

"Oh, and they did mention the two of you cosying up at a recent work party."

You resist the urge to swallow as your heart pounds violently inside you, panic squeezing your pumping organ in a vice grip. You thought no one had noticed your exchange or your absence when you both left.  

"We were talking, yes. He offered me a promotion and wanted to discuss it."

He looks impressed. "Wow, what a good opportunity, he must trust you a lot."

"He did." 

"Until this?" He scrubs a hand over his smooth face and you nod.

"Um-hm. What would you say you could hack into?"

You frown, not understanding the question. "Sorry?"

"Could you hack just about anything?"

Thinking about it you shrug, "Most things I'd say."

"Even something as impenetrable as this program?"

You laugh. "Sir, I designed the security portion of this program, I wouldn't need to hack into it." You lean forward again. "Let me explain something to you, if I were to do something like this, I would have been in and out without anyone knowing. I would know how to cover my tracks without being detected."

You pause rubbing your temples, "If you ask me, this was done by someone with a limited knowledge of hacking and computers. Either that or this person is trying to frame someone in the company. They're your two options."

He smiles at you, two dimples forming an endearing crevice in his cheeks.

"They told me you were smart."

You rub your face ignoring his remark. "I have been here for hours. Am I free to go or are you going to charge me with something?"

"Just one more question. What were you doing last night?"

Your heart stutters before pounding guiltily against your ribcage, with every beat you're almost sure you can hear Jimin's name. Ji-min. Ji-min.

Folding your hands in your lap to disguise you pinching your wrist under the table, trying to do anything to keep your hectic mind calm as you know you have to lie.

"I was at home."

"Alone?" 

The smirk he gives you makes your stomach churn, as if he can see right through you and your lies, as if he can see everything that transpired last night flashing behind your eyes. 

"Yes." Your voice comes out raspy, a sudden dry patch in your throat makes you swallow involuntarily.

"Run me through your evening." He sinks lower into his seat, you're almost waiting for him to pull out a footstool and put his feet up.

"We set up the project, waited for it to go live-"

"Who's we?"

"My team, myself and Mr. Park."

He nods and gestures a hand for you to continue.

"Once it was live, we monitored it for a few hours, checked everything was in working order and most of my team went home for the night. It was pretty late by then."

He jots your account down on his laptop, the keys clicking furiously as you speak.

"What time is 'late'?"

"Around 10ish."

He raises his brows. "Is that a typical work day for you?"

You shake your head. "No, it was only because we wanted to make sure everything went ok with the go live, a few tweaks and adjustments had to be made, nothing major."

He nods, eyes focused on his screen. "Is that usual at the end of a project, tweaks and adjustments?" 

You shrug. "Sometimes yes, on big projects, sometimes you can't see certain errors until a go live."

"Ok, so it's 10 o'clock and your team have gone home, leaving you and Mr. Park. What happened next?"

You massage your temples. "We spoke in his office."

"About what?"

Your hand slams down on the table, an action you didn't intend. "Is that relevant?"

He looks up startled, then smiles. "Why? Have I touched a nerve?"

You resist the urge to lean across the table and pound your fist into his smug face and instead lean back in your seat with your arms folded, an attempt at shielding yourself. "We spoke about the project and the result. It seemed to be successful, at the time, so we had a celebratory night cap."

He shoves his laptop aside, leaning forward on his elbows, ears pricked and ready. "Let me get this straight. You and the - forgive me - handsome Mr. Park are alone in the building, in his office and having a night cap, late at night?"

"Yes." You reply bluntly, the arrogance of him, so sure he'll find your lie, flaming your veins with rage.

"Does Mr. Park regularly have his colleagues in his office for a night cap?"

"I wouldn't know sir, I'm not his secretary."

"Even if you were, she'd have gone home hours ago, according to you." He pauses watching you, his eyes so intense they feel smothering-suffocating. 

His stare eases, releasing you from its hold. "Ok continue, what happened after your night cap?" He relaxes and goes back to typing. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, air feeling light and free again.

"We talked, I finished my drink, then I went home."

"How did you get home?"

You pause. If you lie, they're bound to see the footage of you and Jimin leaving the building together, with you getting into his car. 

"Miss l/n? How did you get home?" 

Here he goes looking expectantly over the rim of his glasses again.

"Mr. Park gave me a ride home."

And there was that infuriating smirk again. "Is that so? Was his driver there or did Mr. Park do the driving?"

You feel the heat on the back of your neck as you're reminded of how Jimin's hands felt on your skin, hot and eager in the back of the car. "His driver took me."

"With Mr. Park."

You nod slowly. 

"And I suppose he just said goodnight and off you went?"

"You're correct, sir." 

"And Mr. Park will vouch for this story of yours?" He taps his bottom lip with the pen he just pulled out of his pocket.

You nod. "He will because it's the truth." You're both praying and hoping you'd have a chance to speak to Jimin before he got interviewed...if he hasn't been already. God, if they found out you were lying about this, it would make you look so guilty.

"Uh-huh. One other thing…"

Fighting the frustrated growl boiling up inside you, you give him a false smile.

"Do you have any idea why someone would want to hack this software?"

You mull it over briefly, "I would imagine, seeing as it's a security breach for information, that it's to steal. Most of our clients are..." you struggle to find the appropriate wording.

"Rich." He intejects.

You nod agreeing.

"Ummm." He adds watching you, before sitting up and closing his laptop abruptly. "Ok, miss l/n, you're free to go. But we'll be in touch, I assure you." 

He stands up and you quickly follow him out of the room. When he shows you the direction the exit is in he turns to face you and holds out a hand. 

"It's been a pleasure, miss l/n, I know you probably won't be able to say the same, nevertheless." He shakes your hand with a half smile causing the dimple to return, somehow completely softening his face.

You nod and leave as quickly as your tired body will let you.

The cool, night air hitting your face immediately calms your panicked mind. You need to speak to Jimin but it might not be safe to do so.

"Are you ok, y/n?" A deep voice sounds from beside you, silencing all your other chaotic thoughts.

You spin and see Taehyung leaning casually against the pillar of the building smoking.

You relax at the sight of a familiar face. Jimin's personal assistant has always been friendly and kind towards you. You weren't sure but rumours in your company suggested that the two of them were even brothers, although you doubted it as they didn't resemble each other in the slightest.

"Yeah, glad to be out of there though." You reply, massaging the back of your neck.

"I bet, you've been in there a long time. I saw you leave to go to the station with them hours ago."

You nod. "It's been a long and very trying day. Are you waiting to be interviewed?"

He nods, taking a long drag, you watch as the end illuminates orange. 

"Well, I hope they don't keep you in there too long."

"They shouldn't. I've been away, only got back last night. Don't see how much use I can be to them."

He flicks his cigarette into the road and closes the distance between you.

"Listen, if there's anything you need or if you just want to talk or rant, anything. Don't hesitate to give me a call." He hands you his card. "This is a tough situation for everyone, we all need someone every now and then."

His bright, boxy grin has your mouth upturning before you know it. You thank him and hail and cab. Glancing at him, you see him watching you as the car drives away, unsure as to whether he's flirting or you're reading too much into it and he's being his usual cheerful self.

You shrug it off. All you can think of is getting home, running a nice, hot bath and forgetting this day ever happened.

*****

Back to reality as you sit with your silk robe wrapped around you, your laptop positioned neatly on your thighs, going through every possible way someone could have hacked into this, looking for how they got in. 

But nothing made sense, this was definitely not a hack done by someone with limited knowledge as you originally thought. 

There was no trace of anything left behind, no mark that anyone had even been in. Which only means, the hack had to be someone with inside knowledge of the project already, it definitely wasn't an outside hacker.

A more alarming finding was discovering the computer used for the hack was actually yours.

But why make it so obvious where the hack took place and which computer...unless...someone is trying to frame you. This wasn't something you had realistically considered. 

If you were honest, no one was even jumping out at you as a suspect. You trusted everyone in your team and everyone who helped on this project.

You sigh, massaging your temples as you try to clear your mind.

A harsh knock on the door makes you jump and you glance at your phone. 

02.31.

Who on earth would be knocking at this hour?

You head over, opening the door slightly with the chain still pulled tight across, to see a man; hat pulled down covering his eyes, standing there handing you a small, brown package through the gap.

"It's from Jimin." He says quietly. You watch his mouth - the only part of his face you can see - stretch into a gummy smile, before turning and exiting the building. 

Bewildered, you close the door and rip open the box. Staring at its contents and searching for some kind of note explaining what on earth this is for. 

A phone. 

What are you supposed to do with it?

You take it out, examining it and noticing the mistletoe background. Just like the mistletoe you first kissed Jimin under.

You jump out of your skin, fear firing an ice bolt right through you as it lights up and starts ringing.

Hesitantly, you answer. "Hello?"

"Y/n," Jimin's breathy voice sounds in your ear and sends a scattering of goosebumps across your skin. "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger but I'm unsure if I'm being watched."

"By the police?" You ask, worried at the urgency in his voice.

"Not just them. Listen," he starts before you can interject. "I want you to know that no matter how it seems or what I say in front of other people, I do believe that you had nothing to do with this hack."

The relief that floods you has your shoulders relaxing instantly, not even aware they were tense. "I am glad to hear you say that, thank you."

"I also want to apologise, I did not mean for your involvement with me to put you at risk of any trouble."

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. "I really don't see how the two are connected."

He sighs and the urge you have to comfort him, to wrap your arms around him until his stress is eased, almost has you putting on your shoes and coat. "It doesn't matter. Things are complicated with me and it wasn't fair for me to drag you into that."

"Hey, hey," you sit down on the edge of your bed. "You didn't drag me anywhere. I'm a big girl Jimin, I can make my own decisions, last night being one of them and I definitely do not have any regrets about that."

You're met with silence as you find yourself fiddling with the bedsheets, reminiscing his touch. 

"I most definitely do not regret it either." He finally says. You think you can hear a slight smile in his voice. "That was a moment I had wanted for longer than I care to admit."

His unexpected confession causes a furious blush to creep up your chest.

"I wish I could see you." The desperation in his voice makes you hot underneath your robe.

"Why don't you come over?" You ask, hesitantly biting your lower lip.

"I wish I could, lord knows I do, but I can't risk it, for your sake." 

You collapse back on the bed in frustration, his scent jumps up and captures you, pulling your mind into filthy places. "My bed sheets still smell like you." You say the words before thinking them through. 

"Do they?" His voice is suddenly husky and full of want. "And what is going through that impressive mind of yours?" 

"You are. Your touch, your taste, how I wish to feel your perfect lips on me again." Your hand makes its way down to open your robe, cool air hitting your skin and puckering your nipples.

"Hmm-mm, and what are you doing while you're thinking about me?" He asks.

"What do you want me to do, Jimin?" You accentuate his name, knowing how much he loves it when you say it.

"Touch yourself." He whispers.

You waste no time in obeying, as your fingers travel quickly down to your throbbing clitorous. The feel of your fingertips massaging your sweet bud makes you moan.

"Oh god, this makes me want to see you even more." He groans. 

You use the phone to snap a quick photo of your actions and send it to the number you're on the line too. "Incoming message, sir." You say teasingly.

"Oh, fuck," he says in the distance and instantly followed by the sound of his trouser zipper being undone. "You make me crazy." His voice is right back at your ear.

"Jimin, I wish it was my mouth around your rock hard cock." 

"Me too, angel. God, what I wouldn't give to feel you around me. Tell me, what would you want me to do to you?" He grunts, the sound of him pleasuring himself causes a gush of arousal to spill from your eager hole and you spread it over yourself.

"I'd want your mouth on me...everywhere, tasting just how wet I am for you." You pant.

"Just for me?" 

"Yes, all for you." You lightly trace circles over your swollen sweet spot, toes curling when he breathes your name down the phone.

"I want to be inside you, again." 

"Anytime, anywhere, just tell me." You whisper, that undeniable build up already at peak point. "I'm going to cum." 

"That's it angel, cum with me." 

You unravel, back arching off the bed and burying your face into the sheets, relishing his scent. You hear him orgasm, repeating your name continuously. It makes you smile inside and it makes you feel powerful knowing how much he wants you.

"I have to say," he says, after you both get your breath back. "That was not the reason for me sending the phone."

You can't help but laugh at that. "What was the reason?"

He sighs again. "Mostly, to apologise and to have a way to speak to you that I know is safe. We have to be careful, now."

"Why, what are you so worried about?"

A long pause. "I can't," you can almost hear his inner turmoil, the fight with himself. "I'm just trying to protect you. You don't need to be involved."

You're about to argue but something inside you stills. If you push someone like Jimin too much, he'll only clam up further, he'll open up when he's ready...you hope.

"Keep this phone on, ok?" He pleads.

"More late night phone sex?" You tease, chewing your lip.

"I wouldn't say no," he laughs. "I do, however, just want to be able to talk to you, if that's ok?" 

You nod and realise he can't see that. "Of course, anytime."

"I wouldn't say that, you'll never get me off the phone." 

You feel yourself smiling like a cheshire cat, feeling like a lovesick school girl again. What has this man reduced you to?

"Goodnight y/n. Sleep well, angel." He hangs up the phone, leaving your heart stuttering and your stomach flipping with excitement. The prospect of something new on the horizon, even with all the current problems you're facing, something still seeming positive might come out of this. All you can do is hope.

******

Getting ready for work the next morning you felt conflicted, part of you was on cloud nine, drifting blissfully along on nothing but hope and dreams. The other part was dreading the work day and what it could bring, plus you still had your own discreet investigating to do.

A harsh, yet cheerful rap on your door, startled you. 

Rushing to the door to see who it is, a small part clinging onto a chance it could be Jimin, only to be disappointed when you open the door and find detective Kim Namjoon staring back at you.

"Ah Miss l/n, I'm so glad I caught you before work, could I come in?" The same smug smile stretching his full lips as he leans casually against your door frame, his laptop hooked under his arm.

"Really? Right now, I'll be late for work." You reply, feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's ok, I've already informed your boss of your late arrival." He assures you cockily. "So, can I …?"

You grit your teeth and step out of the way, gesturing for him to enter. 

You watch as he studies every inch of your living area, peering into your bedroom.

"What is it I can help you with, detective?"

He turns to you, "Ah, yes of course." 

Setting his laptop down on your dining room table, hitting a few keys and spinning it round towards you. "You might want to sit down for this." He says, as he hits the play button.

You ignore him and watch. 

Video footage of your office building, of you walking to your office partition specifically. You watch yourself sit in the empty building, at your computer and leave again. You look up at the detective, confusion marring your brow and he simply taps the screen where the date and time stamp are.

You follow it, and re-read it at least three times, eyes open wider than ever, as if that'll somehow help you see different numbers.

The frown creases deeper into your forehead as your brain catches up with the fact that the video shows you, alone in the building, at the exact time and date of the hack. 

[melaninenthusiasts]

Maldonia | Prince Naveen

Prince Naveen x black reader

"We are never doing this again," I say as I finished getting dressed at the foot of Naveen's bed now sliding the remaining of my dress down.

I don't know how we even got here.

Well, let me re- phrase that:

I know exactly how this how we got here.

A typical drunken night of passion on the night of Maldonia's Independence Day. We were at a party and there we're drinks. Lots and lots of drinks.

And he was just there with that gorgeous brown skin and pretty long eyelashes and charming accent just tempting me to go there with him.

Naveen chuckled to himself at my statement. "You said that after the first round and the second" he licked his lips. "And the third"

I slipped back on my heels. "Well, I mean it this time," I say looking back at him deep into his eyes.

That sexy smirk on his face rose again.

"Wanna go another before we make that official before I go?" He suggested to me.

Wow, I really forgot he was leaving.

I chuckled to myself. "No"

This man is so cocky.

"C'mon, it'll be like goodbye sex. You know I'm leaving for New Orleans."

"To find you a privileged princess," I smirked.

"Ha ha, very funny" he says watching me get dressed. He just layed there in the large bed half naked.

"One day your gonna find a woman who's gonna make your work for love" I say to him and he listens. "Not me though, that shit would be exhausting." I add.

"I'm Prince Naveen of Maldonia. I never work for anything. Women practically drop their panties at the sight of me. Kind of like you did last night."that sexy smirk rises on his face again.

I playfully rolled my eyes at him.

That got me thinking about last night and how everything went down.

There I was at the Independence Day party with my two bestfriends having fun until they ditched me to dance with some guys.

There were our traditional Maldonia colors everywhere. In confetti, people's attire, and of course the drinks. Peach and purple with the Maldonian castle on the flag.

As of now, I was at the bar sipping my Maldonia Martini that was a peach Crown Royal with purple crystals on the outside.

I just wanted to hang with my girls but I guess plans change.

"Another round of shots!" The life of the party, Naveen orders the employees behind the bar.

"Hey, Ria. Enjoying the party?" He looks over to me with a kind smile.

He had just came from being danced on by some women on the dance floor. He's what you call a Ladies' Man.

"The name is Aria, we're not in academy anymore. " I snap stirring my drink.

"Oh okay, my bad" he throws his hands up in defense.

We have known eachother for as long as I can remember. We went to academy together and our families are pretty close-like weekly family dinners close. Ever since his parents cut him off, Naveen has been searching for his Princess Charming. He knows that I don't have the amount of dough of his liking. I dodged that bullet with him. He wouldn't dare do that to me anyway. Whoever he plans to marry for money is their problem.

That's why today he is having his last hoorah for good times sake before he jets off to America—New Orleans.

I was apart of the few people in his circle that new of this. He will be missed-even with his slightly conceited, spolied-self.

"You know Navé, Im gonna miss you Navé. Underneath all of the glitter and gold, there's a nice,kind man." I say to him and he smiles at me.

"I guess I deserve that for calling you by your nickname. I'm gonna miss you too." He says.

"I know your friends ditched you but why are you not out dancing?" He asks. "Let me be your wingman. " Navé says and I shake my head no

"C'mon Ria, you gotta loosen up. There's plenty of guys out here for you to mingle with," Naveen says to me as he waits for his drink beside me at the bar. He was so busy ranting to me that he forgot that he was waiting for a drink. He's a prince, he never does that. Naveen gets what he wants when he wants it. That's just how it is with him.

"Wait, why am I waiting?" He says to himself causing to laugh at him. "What a man got to get another round of shots around here!" Naveen yelled loudly at the bartender.

I laughed at how irritated he was getting on waiting for his drinks. Unlike his usual V.I.P treatment in clubs and venues, this was already an exclusive party. So everyone basically got treated the same.

"Round of shots for the Prince!"the mixer fixed his shots to his liking.

"So what happened to Brandon?" He asks me referring to my ex. Naveen and I haven't seen eachother in a while so we were catching up.

"Brandon," I corrected him. "And he cheated. It's whatever."

"Are you serious? If I ever see him I'll-" he started to get mad. "How could he do that to you? You're gorgeous, sexy, and kind of nice" I chuckled playfully hitting him at that last part.

"But seriously...how?" He scoffs to himself in frustration.

"Here," Naveen passes me the Maldonian alcohol in the shot glass.

"To my last hoorah and getting you a night of passion," he says before linking arms with me as we both through our heads back taking the shots. I immediately felt the burn go to my throat. We unhooked arms.

"Woo!" Naveen exclaims in excitement.

"So, how you feeling about leaving?" I ask him.

"You know, I'm actually kind of scared. I've been here my entire life and never been on my own before. It's about damn time." He says admittedly.

"But I'm hella excited for New Orleans. The culture, the scenery, the music. I just need a new environment."

"I get that. But you'll be fine. Just do whatever your heart tells you."

Before I knew it, we talked some more and he helped me muster the courage to dance with someone as he did the same. I was on the dancefloor grinding my hips on a man I had just met.

Naveen locked eyes with me as he looked unamused by the girl grinding on him. The stunning woman felt all on his body pushing herself onto him but all he could do was gaze at me.

The man I was still dancing on hugged my waist squeezing me tightly as we motioned to the rhythm of the music.

Once we both then switched partners to dance with eachother.

"Let's go," I pull him closer to whisper in his ear. His lingering eyes gaze deep into mines in desire. I then took his hand leading us out of the party.

_______

"I-I'm gonna do you soo hard," I slur out to him tugging his shirt closer to me. I chuckle drunkenly and started nibbling on ear. Sending teasing pecks on his jawline, I felt a smile rise on his face.

"Fucking would be nice, eh?" He says to me with that charming accent.

His hands trail from my waist to my ass squeezing it passionately. My lips gravitated to his getting lost in them. The kisses grew from being innocent to sloppy.

We were now the leaning against the wall of the private elevator of his Royal Suite. We had entire suite to ourselves. And I was going to make sure to christen all of the rooms.

I got excited as we were rising up to our floor. Sticking my tongue down his throat with my arms around his neck, Naveen picked me up to wrap my legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss,he managed to unlock the door.

We were now in the spacious white livingroom area accented with golden decorations. I threw my head back as Navé sent teasing pecks all throughout my neck.

"Are you ready for this?" He murmurs as his lips brushes against the skin of my neck.

"I should be asking you that question" I say I he lays us on the couch.

______

We got a little hunger after the first round. Here we were in the kitchen area looking for something to snack on.

With nothing but Naveen's white button down and a pair of lace panties on, I searched in the large refrigerator for a snack.

Naveen comes over behind me shirtless with his arms wrapped around me. He started sending teasing pecks on my neck.

I then grabbed the bowl of strawberries to take a bite of one. He then ate the remaining of it from my hand.

He then let go of me to grab a few things as I sat on the wide kitchen counter.

I continued eating strawberries as ge turned around with a few things in his hands. Whipped cream, honey, and chocolate syrup.

"For the strawberries, " he says and I chuckle. Naveen makes his way over to me standing in between my legs.

I grab the spray can of whipped cream and eat some. I nod my hand at how good it was.

Naveen then takes the can.

After spraying a bit of whipped cream on my neck, he licks it off.

I giggled at the sensation.

"You like that?" His eyes lingered in mines.

"Yeah," I smiled.

Naveen then snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Can I atleast get a goodbye kiss?" Navé asks. "One for the road?" He pouts his lips. I couldn't help but eye his built physique.

This man is so greedy I swear.

I roll my eyes making my way over to him sitting down on the bed. I gravitate my lips towards his once again feeling his soft touch. His tongue waved it's way down my throat and I couldn't seem to break the kiss. His hand felt on my thigh urging me to go there again.

"Okay, maybe this one last time," I chuckle to myself.

"Arania" he said before I could leave. I looked over to him. "Yes, Navé?"

"You we're the one who got away. How did I loose you?" He asked me and I had no words.

Hearing him say that was everything but it wasn't enough for us to be anything. We both knew that.

Lost for words, I just shrugged. "I don't know" I say.

"Have fun in New Orleans. And remember what I said." I say before exiting his spacious bedroom suite.

THE END

comment and reblog🖤

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 7: “Ojama Delta Thunder!!”

That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!

WE STAN SUPPORTIVE WORKPLACES IN THIS HOUSE. Also, tiny bit of Egoshipping at the end.

This monster is just over nine pages. What am I doing with my life?

“So you wanted to talk Pro stuff?”

It takes Chazz’s brain an extra minute to process the words, still reeling from the bombshell Jaden decided to drop on them tonight. Then he latches onto the chance to think about literally anything other than the fact that Jaden literally fused himself with the monster that tried to kill him! How stupid do you get?! “Yes, please, I’m desperate.”

“Alright, no need to grovel.” Aster holds a hand out to preemptively stop any further begging that admittedly would have happened. “Like I said, I’d be glad for the company.”

It’s still surreal to watch Aster be both honest and vulnerable even though Chazz has seen it a few times now thanks to these group talks Jim started. Chazz has actually seen most of his friends break down in tears at this point. This year has been a fucking trip. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“You’ll be my assistant.”

“Sorry, what?” Chazz must not have heard that right.

“You’ll have the chance to see how the Pros work up close and personal, and I get an extra pair of hands on deck.” Aster shrug. “Win-win.”

That is absolutely not a win-win! “I’m not gonna be your lackey!”

Aster levels him a look that would be insulting enough even without the younger boy’s obvious lack of fear in the face of Chazz’s anger. “So you don’t want my help then.”

Oh this son of a- Deep breath in. Hold it. Exhale. Don’t scream bloody murder at the literal one person related to the Pro Dueling business giving Chazz the time of day. “Fine. What exactly am I expected to do?”

*

“You’ll be managing Aster’s schedule,” the woman says as she escorts Chazz up the elevator because Aster couldn’t be bothered to meet Chazz himself. Esmerelda, she introduced herself as, an employee of the Senrigan Group assigned to look after Aster. Purple curls spill over her shoulder and she’d be pretty if her smile wasn’t so...unnerving. Sharp green eyes bore down at him and Chazz wants to fidget in this stupid, uncomfortable suit. “Take this.” Esmerelda holds out a simple flip phone and Chazz accepts it with minimal confusion. “It’s a company phone and will be your primary method of communication.”

This gig sounds simple enough at least.

At the top floor of the company-owned skyscraper, the doors open to reveal a spacious and luxurious pad. Reminds him of home, honestly, and Chazz has to swallow down the confusing mix of emotions that brings. “I’ll be living here? Not bad.”

“Certainly not.” Esmeralda chuckles and gives Chazz a smile that - in one word - he would describe as plastic. Leading him through the entryway-living room space, she opens a door to a room that looks like a typical office space.

“That’s a lot of phones.” He stares incredulously at the appliances that line the desks.

“Of course,” Esmerelda says and Chazz finds it more than a little unnerving that she doesn’t deem it necessary to address why there are so many phones in this room. “This is your desk.” She taps a spot on the table top with an immaculate nail. “Make sure you arrive before seven.” Chazz nods and the woman leads him back out of the room to a set of narrow double doors that open onto a balcony. “You will be sleeping there.” She points down at a comparatively tiny, rustic looking building squeezed between the back of the skyscraper and the road. Is that a warehouse?

*

It’s a warehouse. There’s a couch and table on the landing near the door and a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The power is out and a cloud of dust rises from the couch when Chazz sets his briefcase on the cushions. Sadly, this isn’t much worse than the Slifer Dorms. He’ll make it work.

*

“You put him where?” Aster looks up over his cup of chamomile tea, something Sartorius recommended after noticing his trouble sleeping and, like most of Sartorius’ suggestions, works fairly well. Setting the cup down, he presses his finger tips to his temple and doesn’t wait for an answer. “Esmerelda, you are evil.”

“With all due respect, sir, this boy is a Manjoume.” Esmerelda frowns, posture stiff where she sits on the other end of the couch and brows furrowed in an expression that speaks exactly how she feels about this situation. “The Manjoume Group is our biggest rival. He could be here to steal company secrets.”

“I highly doubt that,” Aster mumbles and picks his tea up again.

“To my knowledge, Chazz has an estranged relationship with his family,” Sartorius says from the armchair across the table, pencil tapping lightly against the clipboard on his lap. That paper is either Aster’s schedule or a crossword; Aster doesn’t care enough to squint. “Besides, he is a personal friend.”

Aster scoffs. “Chazz and I are not friends.”

“Friendly acquaintances then.”

“Acquaintances,” Aster corrects. “We’re just acquaintances.”

“Of course,” Sartorius agrees in that voice that implies he knows something he isn’t willing to share yet. Aster narrows his eyes at him over the cup but doesn’t press the issue. He’ll find out soon enough; Sartorius isn't that good at keeping secrets.

“Exactly,” Esmerelda presses. “Why are you sticking your neck out for him?”

Sighing, Aster sets his cup down to massage his temple once more. He knows Esmerelda means well, but she’s been watching him like a hawk even since he got back from the other dimension and Aster misses that small bit of freedom. “I don’t know. Maybe because I felt bad for him? Maybe because I wanted someone to talk about-” He lets the sentence hang and shelves the bulk of his bitterness and frustration before continuing; he doesn’t need to take it out on them. “-who actually understands.”

Esmerelda presses her lips. Sartorius stares at him with those damnably soulful eyes. Even if he could have predicted that whole fiasco, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to stop it. Aster doubts nothing short of the sun imploding could have stopped Jaden from chasing Jesse across dimensions; Aster had just been the idiot who got too close.

“It’s late.” Aster exhales wearily. “You should go home.”

Nodding, Esmerelda stands and bids him a good night. Only after the elevator has closed behind her does Aster allow himself to slump against the couch. Sartorius sets the clipboard on the table - it’s a crossword - and holds out his hand. “Shall we retire?”

“Yeah.”

It’s easy to be vulnerable around Sartorius, probably because of how long they’ve known each other, and Sartorius is still the only person Aster can completely relax around. He lets Sartorius pull him up off the couch and they head down the hallway to the bedrooms at the back of the suite.

“I’m in the next room if you need me,” Sartorius promises with his usual nightly greeting, and Aster has the distinct feeling he’ll be taking him up on that later. Today’s been stressful.

*

Chazz arrives at the office room at 6:55 sharp and freezes at the sight of the person already sitting there. “Good morning, Chazz,” Sartorius greets like they’re old buddies or something and not the guy who brainwashed him less than a year ago. “I trust Esmerelda already briefed you on the daily necessities.”

“No?” Chazz croaks. He’s going to be working with Sartorius? What happened to Esmerelda?

Sartorius’ expression falls into one of surprise and concern, but one of the multiple phones rings before he can respond and his attention immediately swerves. “Good morning, this is Sartorius speaking,” the man says with an uncanny level of grace and authority. Whatever is said on the other end of the line prompts him to pull up some kind of spreadsheet on the computer in front of him. Another phone rings as the conversation continues and Sartorius wordlessly directs Chazz to answer it with his hand.

“This is Weekly Duelist,” a voice chirps in his ear, a bit loud and on the edge of demanding. “Next week, could we have Aster...”

A third phone rings. Sartorius pushes a pen and paper at Chazz as he sets the first phone down and reaches for the next. “Write it down.” He’s on the next call before Chazz can ask for elaboration.

And so the morning goes. Chazz scribbles down the names of different dueling events and talk shows and gods-know-what-else that want Aster’s attention while Sartorius alternates between his own conversations and calling back the interested parties on Chazz’s list to fit them onto the spreadsheet.

Esmerelda shows up during a lull in phone calls as Sartorius walks Chazz through using the digital schedule, and Chazz’s brain is too fried from the last 2 hours of his life - has it only been 2 hours?? - to even care about the guy being in his personal space. “The first few hours of the morning are always the busiest. If you can’t confirm at the time of the call, write down the request and call back later. You must also always consider location and travel time- Oh.” Sartorius looks up abruptly. “Excuse us a moment.”

Standing, Sartorius pulls Esmerelda back out the room with him, and Chazz takes the opportunity to just sit and do nothing. A few names remain on the callback list. Should he get started on that or wait for Sartorius to return?

“You sent him in here with no instruction.” The conversation floats in from beyond the door.

“I told him to arrive before seven.”

“Before seven does not imply ‘in time to receive instruction’, Esmeralda. If you weren’t going to show him anything last night, he should have been here at least half an hour before hand.”

So that woman set him up for failure? Whatever, nothing Chazz isn’t used to. Reaching for the phone, he calls back the next event on his list. He’s got two more events scheduled before Sartorius and Esmerelda return and sits back in the chair smugly as he ends the call. Sartorius’ eyebrows rise as he glances over the schedule on his own screen.

“Well done! I’m glad to see you taking initiative.” The praise sends an odd thrill through Chazz like a half forgotten memory and he decides not to dwell on it. Sartorius turns back to Esmerelda with an almost smug grin. “And you worried.”

The woman presses her red lips together with a dismissive hum; Chazz prefers it to the plastic smile.

A tea and snack break later, Chazz finds himself fetching Aster’s clothing and duel disk - why the hell does someone need that many of the exact same thing?! - for a photo shoot, then hauling books from a truck to the table of a signing event - he didn’t know Aster wrote a book about duel philosophy. Admittedly, he’s curious - all while occasionally answering phone calls and penning new events onto his paper copy of the schedule.

The sun has set by the time he finds himself slumping back in his desk chair, Aster’s schedule neat and tidy on the spreadsheet before him. The phones have finally gone silent.

“Good work today.” Sartorius enters with a tray of soup and breadsticks and sets it on the desk adjacent to Chazz.

Chazz blinks at it. “You cook?”

Sartorius smiles. “Yes. Mizuchi and I lived alone for most of our lives, so we had to learn how to take care of ourselves.”

“Oh.” Chazz doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything as he reaches for the soup and spoons some of it into his mouth. It’s surprisingly good, mild, not too salty like most of the canned stuff.

“There’s an extra room up here for you,” Sartorius says and Chazz looks up sharply.

“I don’t have to stay in the warehouse?”

“Goodness, no.” Shaking his head, Sartorius presses his lips and continues at length, “I suppose Esmerelda wanted to test your resolve.” Chazz snorts. “I assure you, Aster and I did not approve.”

Didn’t stop them from letting him sleep there last night. Chazz can’t even muster the energy to glare at the man, only managing what must be a fish eyed stare. He dips the breadstick in the soup before taking a bit; oo, now that’s a good combination of flavors.

“How was your first day?” It’s still unnerving how calm and even Sartorius speaks even without the malicious undertones from the Light of Destruction.

“Exhausting,” Chazz answers without hesitation.

Sartorius chuckles. “I’ve put on some tea if you’d like to join us.”

Chazz considers this and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m gonna go get my stuff.” Still too weird, and honestly he wants nothing more than to crash in a real bed and stop existing for a few hours.

Nodding, Sartorius stands. “The room is at the far end of the hall. Mine is the second on the left if you need anything.”

Chazz really shouldn’t be surprised these two live together.

*

The following week is more of the same. Chazz follows Aster to all manner of events from meet-and-greets to fancy parties, always doing the heavy lifting and always answering the phone. During the precious few moments he has to breathe, Sartorius talks his ear off. The man is a surprisingly witty conversation partner and the complete opposite of Chazz’s sparse memories from the Society of Light.

“Of course I’m different.” Sartorius laughs good naturedly as Chazz curses his slip of the tongue. “That wasn’t really me, Chazz.”

No, Chazz supposes it wasn’t.

“He’s so good with people,” he mumbles, leaning on the balcony railing where they watch Aster mingle in the party below.

“Of course.” Sartorius sounds fond. “That’s what it takes to succeed. I believe you can learn a lot from watching him.”

Yeah, if Chazz can manage to find the time between everything else.

*

“You want me to what?”

“Organize the cards in here,” Aster repeats and Chazz baulks at the sheer number of stacks that line the shelves. “The power’s back on so that won’t be a problem. No specific deadline, just work on it when you have spare time.”

“What spare time?!”

Aster only raises his eyebrows with that unimpressed expression he’s so fond of giving, and Chazz clenches his teeth.

“Can I least get some gloves and a mask and a duster?” It’s filthy in here and Chazz doesn’t fancy breathing in whatever dust cloud he’s found to kick up.

“There should be cleaning supplies in the closet.” Aster waves a hand vaguely before turning to take his leave. “Good luck.”

*

A number of people make house calls with Aster; Chazz doesn’t pay much attention to them because he’s usually neck deep in phone calls and keeping Aster’s schedule straight - he does not need another double booking fiasco, thank god Sartorius had the charm to sort it out peacefully. One guy in particular, however, Chazz does get used to seeing; Mike something-or-other, a TV producer hell bent on getting Aster in on his comedy acts. Aster throws him out more than once.

“Why don’t you just cut ties with him?” Chazz asks after another such altercation. “You clearly don’t like him.”

“He’s good at what he does.” Aster frowns, annoyed if not outright angered. So are Slade and Jagger and that didn’t stop Chazz from telling them to fly a kite. Picking up his cup, Aster winces as his hand shakes and quickly sets the cup down before the tea can spill. Chazz zeros in on the movement.

“Hand,” he says, scooting over to sit by Aster on the couch without a second thought.

“What?”

Chazz doesn’t wait as he takes Aster’s hand and smooths out the joints between his own fingers before pressing gently and rubbing circles with his thumbs.

“You know massage??”

“Yeah.” Chazz still doesn’t get why everyone makes a big deal of it. This is something he’s always been able to do; used to find it weird that other people couldn’t because it felt so easy to him. A natural skill or whatever. “Jesus fuck,” the English expletive slips past his lips as he feels the knots and strained muscles in Aster’s hand. “I’m cancelling meet-and-greets and signing events for a while.”

“Excuse me?”

“So your hand can heal,” Chazz cuts Aster off before the other can work himself into righteous indignation. “You can’t duel without your draw hand. Two weeks of minimal activity and you should be fine. But we should tape this. Do you have a first aid-”

A white kit with a red cross hovers in the peripheral of Chazz’s vision. He stares dumbly up at Sartorius as Aster huffs with amusement. Cautiously, Chazz takes it. “Can you still see the future or something?”

“Predict,” Sartorius corrects as he takes his usual seat in the arm chair. “And not all predictions are accurate.”

“Riiiight.” Just gonna ignore that piece of information for now then. Chazz pulls the ace wrap out of the kit and turns back to Aster’s hand. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but there might be a sliver more respect in Aster’s eyes when Chazz finishes wrapping his hand and a tiny, genuine smile on his face.

*

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

Aster’s going to lose his entire career just because one lousy card went missing?!

Chazz paces back and forth across the warehouse floor, gnawing on his fingernails. The cards have all been organized - monster, trap, spell, then by type, archetype, and alphabetical. Chazz could point exactly to which box a single card is in, but the one card apparently more important that Aster’s fucking career disappears from right under his nose!

They even know who took it! They have photos from the security camera! But they can’t prove shit because the bastard was smart enough to keep his face covered and away from the camera! If they can’t prove it, they can’t get the card back! And then Aster-

“Boss, breathe!” Ojama Yellow squeals. “I think you're having an angry attack!”

“Anxiety attack!” Chazz screams, suddenly aware of just how rapid and shallow his breath has gotten. Geez, he sounds like Jaden after-

JADEN!

Chazz dives for his school-issued PDA, yanks up the contacts, and rapidly taps his foot against the floor as he waits for the other end of the line to pick up. He dials twice before getting an answer.

“What?”

“Jaden, I need your help!”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” The other boy sounds groggy and disheveled.

No, Chazz has absolutely no idea what time it is in Japan, he is on the side of the globe and that’s not important right now! “Listen! I need you and your freaky powers for help with something!”

Silence. The line clicks dead.

“DID YOU JUST HANG UP ON ME?” Chazz screams into the empty warehouse. It takes three more tries to get Jaden back on the line.

“And why should I help you?”

“SERIOUSLY? Wait.” Something about Jaden’s voice sounds off. The cadence? “Yubel? This is Yubel isn’t it? Put Jaden on the line! I don’t want you!”

“Jaden is asleep as I was before you so rudely interrupted me and will be returning to now,” Yubel snips.

“WAIT!” Chazz screeches before she can hang up again. He doesn’t need to waste any more time on callbacks. “Never mind! I just need help! Aster needs help!”

The silence on the other end stretches long enough that Chazz fears the monster already hung up. “I’m listening.”

*

Chazz doesn’t even question it when Jaden tumbles out of the shadows onto the warehouse floor, grumbling about fudged landings and never being at locations before, just snaps at him to hide the wings and drags him up to Aster’s apartment. “I brought help!” he announces as they barge in.

Aster’s head snaps up and Chazz watches the scathing remark die on his tongue as his eyes fall on Jaden. “Oh. That’s an idea.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Jaden walks fearlessly up to the trio. “Cuz I got the basics from Yubel, but details would be nice.”

“Yubel?” Esmerelda asks with a weary glance between Jaden and Chazz.

Jaden blanks at her then turns away dismissively. “Not important.”

Aster tosses the security photos onto the table between them. “This is the guy who took the card. Mike, a TV producer who’s been trying to get me to go along with his comedy gimmick for weeks now. We know it’s him but these photos won’t hold up in court.”

Picking the photos up, Jaden holds his chin thoughtfully. “So you just need me to get this card back?”

“And maybe some proof that this guy stole it,” Chazz adds quickly, trying not to cringe as Aster’s eyes flicker over to him, but the pro silently nods his agreement.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.” Setting the photos back on the table, Jaden glances at the elevator, makes a face, and walks straight for the balcony. They all watch in confused silence until Jaden leaps off the balcony railing.

Esmerelda screams. “Is he insane?!”

Even Chazz charges toward the balcony, leaning over the edge in terror, only to find Jaden standing calmly on the sidewalk below like he didn’t just jump off the top floor of a fucking skyscraper!

“How?!” Esmerelda gapes, gripping the railing with white knuckles.

“I’m not even gonna question it.” Aster waves a hand as he returns indoors. Sartorius chuckles quietly, the only person who hadn’t made a mad dash after the reckless idiot.

Chazz sinks to the balcony floor, waiting for his heart to finally get the memo that they don’t need to be freaking out anymore. Gods above help them all...

*

Jaden gets the card back and manages to publicly humiliate Mike in the process. Win-win.

At the end of Chazz’s ‘employment’, Aster challenges him to an official PR duel. It’s the first time Chazz has gotten to seriously break out his deck in a while and he fears he’ll be rusty, but the plays come to him easier than they ever had. Oh, he gets it now. When he organized all the cards in the warehouse, he read each one’s effect; he thought about how to play them and combo them with each other. Aster’s deck is easy to read and Chazz pulls off a spectacular win.

Amidst the cheers, Aster holds out his hand. “Nice work. Guess you did learn a thing or two.”

Riding the adrenaline high, Chazz pulls him straight into a hug. Aster grunts, going rigid before awkwardly patting his back.

“Maybe not in front of the cameras.”

Chazz immediately backpedals. “Right! Sorry!” There’s an odd expression in Aster’s eyes as they shake hands properly this time.

*

“Sartorius. I have another problem.”

Sartorius sniggers as Aster predictably sinks into the seat next to him, flipping over the cards in his game of solitaire. “Oh, I don’t think this one is a problem,” he says with confidence, this morning’s card reading still fresh in his mind. “You should ask him out.”

It takes a second. “SARTORIUS!” Aster pushes away from the table, looking positively scandalized. “I don’t have time for a social life let alone a romantic one!”

Humming, Sartorius places a card on its designated stack. “I’m sure you can make the time. After all, you’ve been making time to visit Duel Academy quite frequently of late.”

“For my mental health!” Aster goes on the defensive, but there’s no denying the hint of flush on his cheeks. “And that's not the point! I don’t care if you read it in cards, I’m not just randomly asking him out!”

Sadly, Sartorius knows half of Aster’s reluctance to the idea is because the media would have a field day with any celebrity’s love life, let alone one with...less conventional preferences. That will not, however, prevent Sartorius from teasing his best friend. “How would you prefer to ask him out then?”

With a frustrated whine, Aster glares at Sartorius. “Not at all.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Shut up.”

[tatttletale]

Moving On | Mystery Skulls Animated

In which Lewis isn't vengeful or corporeal. AU, I guess?

I wrote this tiny piece in an hour for an exam and I think it turned out okay?? So I'm just... leaving it here for angst...

The shop's doorbell rings and Arthur sits up from his place on the ground, ever attentive.

        This is the fourth car in as many hours and yet he immediately agrees to fix it, promising its return at the same time tomorrow. He smiles and chats effortlessly as the customer fills out the form, hands over his keys and leaves again just as quickly, adding yet another project—another distraction—to the queue.

        Arthur does not falter. Instead, the mechanic gulps water from a plastic bottle, signs agreement on the form and cycles around to the Toyota on the far side of the garage, delivered this morning with a crumpled bonnet. Before removing the engine, he decides to check underneath and stretches out on a creeper, pulling himself under the mangled car. I catch a glimpse of dark bruises under his eyes before he disappears.

        I huff in frustration, glancing again at the front desk. A drained mug has been left on top of the paperwork, staining the service sheets underneath with coffee rings. Uncle Lance hasn't uttered a word to his nephew all week, which is extraordinary, considering how high the head mechanic's standards are. I can hear him in another room, barking orders at employees.

        I walk to the Toyota and stand beside it. Arthur seems to notice me because he stops work and pushes himself out on the creeper.

        "Arthur," I sigh. "You can't work all day. You need some sleep."

        Irritated, he sighs, sits up and rubs his eyes.

        He signs himself out early.

*****

When we get home, Arthur immediately disappears into his room, avoiding my violin stand in the hall. Our home is cozy like that, packed with knick knacks, with memories.

        I don't follow him. It's three hours later when Vivi finally saunters up and knocks.

        "Artie? You wanna come out for dinner? It's pizza night tonight."

        Good on you, Vivi. That will bring him out.

        "Gimme a minute," comes Arthur's strained voice.

        He emerges twenty minutes later for dinner, eyes bloodshot. Dios mio, is he tired.

        Arthur's quiet at the table. He looks sullen. Whenever Vivi speaks, he engages with her, smile taut and a little too wide. Fifteen minutes later the pizza boxes are empty and he goes back to his room. This time, I decide to peek.

        When I open the door and look through, Arthur's sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Thick tear trails run down his face and his pillow is wet.

        He doesn't seem to notice me as I enter, padding across the carpet to sit on the bed next to him. "Arthur, we love you," I tell him, resting a hand on his knee. "And we're worried about you. Please tell us what's wrong."

        He doesn't respond. I sigh and remain, waiting for the silent tears to stop.

        When he finally wipes them away, he doesn't talk to me. He rolls over and sets his alarm for 7:30am—that's the usual. His shift starts at 8:00.

        He kicks off his shoes and flicks the lamp off. I leave then.

        He doesn't even change into pyjamas.

****

Arthur drops the keys back into the customer's hand and flashes him a smile. The garage is now empty, all distractions gone.

        Uncle Lance is about to speak to him, I can see it. The doorbell rings before he can open his mouth and we turn to find Mama walking in. Her lush skin looks like the night against mine. Her crimson curls starkly contrast my own unremarkable hair.

        "Mrs Pepper," Arthur greets her, ever formal.

        "Arthur, please, it's Camila," she smiles, like she does every time.

        "Camila," Uncle Lance says, stepping forward. "'Scuse me fer askin', but what're yer here for? Yer car broke down too?"

        "No," she assures him, throwing a wink at Arthur. "But I'm sure your nephew would have no trouble fixing it if it were."

        "Tell me 'bout it," Lance grunts. "Artie here's been takin' half the damn cars that drive in!"

        She smiles kindly at him. "You must be so proud of how hard he works. My Lewis used to cook for us all the time."

        I smile at her, warm pride in my chest.

        "Well, I came here to invite you two to dinner," Mama continues. "And Vivienne too, of course. Any friend of Lewis' is a friend of ours."

        "Thank you, Mrs Pepper," Arthur says weakly. She gives him a light squeeze on the shoulder.

        "Artie, why don't yer go home."

        Arthur turns to Lance in surprise. "But my shift ends at five."

        "And yer been workin' yer arse off," Lance retorts. "Yer needa rest sometime. 'Sides, I wanna have a talk with Camila. You go home now."

        Arthur does what he's told. Thankfully.

*****

Tonight plays out the same as before. The same as every night.

        After dinner I go back to his room to check on him. He's crying again.

        "Oh, Artie," I sigh, but I leave him alone this time. Instead I take notice of the photos on the walls. All three of us, mucking around. The walls at the garage are bare.

        It seems like hours before he quiets and kicks off his shoes. He sets his alarm to 6:00am, and I raise my eyebrows. He sleeps.

*****

The next morning he drags himself out of bed before the alarm, taking care to shut it off before it blares and wakes Vivi. He ambles to the kitchen and pours himself coffee, gulping it down and leaving through the front door. Concerned, I follow him out to the van, slipping into the passenger seat.

        He ignores me, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the driveway. Down the road, he pulls up to the florist's and disappears inside. I frown. Arthur isn't a flowers guy—that's more my thing.

        He reappears a few minutes later with roses—my favourite colour, too. He hops in and I breathe in the scent of the purple blooms as we cruise down the road, the town waking from slumber around us.

        Finally we pull up to a tall iron fence, and he cuts the engine, grabbing the flowers and jumping out. I follow him tentatively into the cemetery—why here?

        We weave through gravemarkers, past multiple rows, Arthur precise in his direction. Eventually, we stop by a black marble headstone, and I bend to read the inscription.

Here lies LEWIS PEPPER Beloved son, brother and friend.

1998—2019

        It's been a year. Arthur sets the roses down and I see the tears. My heart sinks.

        All those nights awake. . . the never-ending work. . . the fights. . . the tears. . .

        Because of me?

        I kneel in front of him. I know he can't see me, so I take his face into my hands. He seems to shudder.

        "We love you," I tell him, sincere, and press my forehead to his. "And we want you to be happy."

        He closes his eyes. "We love you," he echoes. "And I know you want me to be happy."

        He sighs, and stands, walking away. I take one last sweet smell of the roses and follow, leaving them to wither. Some things are more important than rest.

Check out this story on: - Wattpad - FanFiction - Archive Of Our Own

[lunewell]

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Chapter 1

Finally, finally I can show you guys a preview of the horror book I’m publishing in October (:. You can find chapter 1 below, and if you’d prefer, you can read it on ao3 by clicking here!

Chapter 2 is now out and can be found here (:

Enjoy!

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery.

Chapter 1:

Thorn’s Antiques and Restoration, tucked away in the tall trees that encircled the small town of Lunewell, wasn’t the place where one would expect a woman like Zarifa to work. The building was merely a converted two-story brick house, though even then the antique shop itself only operated on half of the ground floor and the basement, and the employees could consider themselves lucky if even so much as a single soul wandered in.

  From an outsider’s perspective, it made no sense. Zarifa did not originate from Lunewell, had little to no interest in antiques, and had a Bachelor’s in English of all things, whose only tie with antiques was the pompous, ivory tower assholes pestering both fields. However, if said outsider were to ask Zarifa herself, or any other of the two working in the building, why she had this job, she would have said that it was the only path she could have ever imagined herself working.

  Though even she had to admit, for as much as she loved her job, it could sometimes be… tedious. 

  Very tedious.

“How many crates of… art did we receive again?” Zarifa asked, white patched ebony fingers holding one of the many, many paintings of eerily realistic human eyes shoved haphazardly in a box. The crates had arrived this morning, heavy and worn, and were sitting in the off-white ‘employees lounge’, that only equated to a singular desk, a sofa, a microwave that never heated all the way through, and two uncomfortable plastic chairs.

 “Only two,” Bruin responded, not bothering to look up from the wooden desk, where he had his nose buried deep in a black title-less book. Zarifa would have asked what he was reading, but stares through dark thin eyes and sighs had long taught her not to. “Bought in by an Anthony Bell earlier this morning.”

  “Thank you,” Zarifa said, giving Bruin a warm smile that didn’t go noticed. She then turned to her other coworker, who had been sitting sheepishly on one of the back-destroying white chairs. “Why do we have two crates of creepy eye-paintings, again?”

  “Okay there’s actually a good reason this time boss,” Grant said hastily, chestnut brown hair messy and glasses half sliding off his face, “I was taking a walk to that cosy little bakery- you know, the one owned by that very sweet elderly couple on the other side of town, which by the way makes cakes straight from the heavens-”

  “So you were walking to the bakery, and then?” Zarifa interrupted.

  “Oh right. I had walked a little ways from the house, when I saw a white van stopped up by the road with a man looking quite pissed off outside. I went up to have a chat with him and found out he was an absolutely fascinating art major named Anthony who had run out of petrol. To make a long story short, I invited him in for a cuppa whilst he waited on the towing truck, found out he was getting rid of these absolute gems, and bought them off him.”

  Zarifa and Bruin, who had finally looked up from the pages, both stared at him. Bruin was the first to break the silence; “you bought antiques from an unverified source, in a van out of petrol, who you also invited inside my home for tea?”

  “Hey! I pay the rent too!” Grant defended, “and besides, I got, you know, the feeling off him. There was already a description of the antiques inside the box, meaning they’ve been passed around a little. If you two don’t want them here, I can take them.”

  “We can keep them,” Zarifa decided, looking at the realistic paintings once more. They were all extremely similar, each one having a blue iris and white pupils. As she moved around the box, it almost felt as though they were all following her movements. She shivered and put the lids back on; “I’ll carry this down. Grant, go open shop, and Bruin, go register these in the system, please.”

  Grant gave her a mock salute, before trudging out of the door and into the shop room, whilst Bruin nodded and turned to the big, archaic box of a computer sitting on the desk. Zarifa stacked and grabbed the two worn crates, surprisingly light in her arms, and made her way to the spiral staircase. They were narrow, seemingly ever looping steps falling into darkness that made walking down them almost impossible. She had once tried to convince Valour to install some lights over the stairs, to reveal the actual length of them and to make sure Grant would stop tumbling down into the abyss, but she had only received a stern no and an icy glare that could kill. 

  So her only options were to walk down carefully, whilst gripping onto the wall for dear life, like she was currently doing. The stairs went on for what seemed like minutes, nothing in her sight as she was swallowed in complete darkness, with no way to judge her surroundings except her shoes hitting the steps. Finally, a flickering light made its way up the stairs, and she saw the start of grey concrete.

  To say the archival basement was lit, was perhaps a bit of an overstatement. There was precisely one dim and occasionally flickering lamp in the room, slightly illuminating cobwebs glued to the walls and dusted shelves of antiquities, but not much else. However, the room was like a scorching desert sun compared to the void Zarifa had previously descended. 

  Making her way between the shelves, past the bag of hand-sewn doll-heads, slightly cracked vases, and mirrors so ladened in dust that one couldn’t see the distorted reflection anymore, she found a small group of paintings. Paintings were one of the rarer antiques for them to receive, so there was plenty of space for the two crates.

  Before slotting them in, she opened them, quickly counting the amount. There were fourteen in total, seven in each box, all in a roughly similar condition and all painted in the same way. Oddly enough, there was no signature nor name, but there was a little slip of paper at the bottom. She picked it out of the crate, and stuffed it in the pocket of her blazer, before closing the lids again.

  Zarifa slid the boxes between a painting of a single red rose titled ‘Chaos’, and a two-hundred-year-old painting titled ‘A Girl in Field’ containing a suspiciously girl-less field. There had been a debate on whether they were all just missing her, whether it was a mislabelled piece, or if it was supposed to be some kind of metaphor, but seeing as it was hardly the weirdest thing in the basement, they had all just grown to accept it. She shivered once again, the basement giving the feeling of being watched, and grabbed the golden butterfly that hung around her neck. She fiddled with the wings, every touch calming her slightly as she began making her way up the stairs. 

  The ascent up the spirals always seemed to take a considerably shorter time, perhaps because the imminent danger of falling had disappeared. Zarifa was up at the top in the blink of an eye, walking into the lounge to see both Bruin and Grant inside. Bruin turned to her from the computer; “‘Antique Eye-Painting x14’ has been written on the document,” he informed. “Did we have any other information?” 

  “I couldn’t find any signature or date on the painting itself,” Zarifa said, reaching into her blue blazer pocket and pulling the paper with a heavy brown tint out, “but there was a note accompanying it. The paper looks old enough to consider it an antique, at least.” 

  “Well, go ahead,” Grant piped up from the couch, “tell us about dear Anthony’s creepy eye pairings.” Zarifa nodded, unfolding the paper as carefully as she could, and began reading.

  ‘The Grey Man’ by Elizabeth B.- 1885

  He is watching from the water. Watching with the trees.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  The Grey Man is knocking 

“Grey Man?” questioned Zarifa, “that’s not a reference to anything, is it?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Grant said, sitting up from where he had flopped on the couch, “help us out Bruiny?” She heard a sigh from the corner, and a slight grumble, but he did eventually speak.

  “The Grey Man isn’t a reference to any historical event, no,” Bruin began, “but it isn’t something we haven’t heard before. I believe it’s referenced somewhere in Valour’s notes”

  A heavy silence fell over them at the mention. “Oh no,” Grant began, “no, no, no. The weirdly detailed cult worshipping cows with inverting eyes was enough, and the murderous glare Valour gave me afterwards almost made me piss myself. I am not going through those notes again, I don’t want to be skinned alive by our own version of Leatherface.”

  “That’s a bit far, isn’t it?” Zarifa said, “We shouldn’t go around accusing her of being a murderer, just because she’s a bit…”

  “Mental?” Bruin quipped from the back.

  “...peculiar,” she settled on, “she’s a bit peculiar.” Zarifa knew, of course, that calling Valour peculiar was a massive understatement- and even calling it a massive understatement was a massive understatement, but she would not be the one to speak ill about her boss with a potential murder streak thank-you-very-much.

  “Need I remind you of that day Valour came covered head to toe in ‘red paint ’ that smelled suspiciously like copper?” Grant said, “she obviously did some serial-killering-“

  “Killering?” Bruin asked with a cocked brow, turning Grant a salmon shade of pink and bringing a bright smile on Zarifa’s face that reached her dark brown eyes. 

  Grant made sounds akin to a drowning man. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally sputtered out, “what matters is that our dear creepy landlord was covered in what was clearly blood, passed it off as paint, and we just acted like it was normal!”

  “I don’t like it either, but I’m not going to be the one to call her out. Besides, maybe it’s a good thing. At least the days here are... interesting.” Zarifa said with a smile. “If we stopped the weirder stuff from happening, these days would pass slower. Especially since we don’t have any custom-“

  The sound of the bell that hung above the door, a loud and horrid thing, rang through the building.  

  “You were saying?” Bruin said, looking as amused as Bruin could be. Meanwhile, Grant shot up like a puppy, sprinting in an unprofessional manner towards the counter. Zarifa joined him, though her walk was much more slow and graceful. 

  She crossed through the shop door, which always stood wide open nowadays, and turned the corner. However, she stopped before she could reach Grant, who was staring at the stranger as much as she was. 

  Now, what needs to be said and understood about Thorn Antiques Shop, and the town of Lunewell in general, was that strangers were one of the rarest sights. Sure, occasionally one could find one of the neighbours’ relatives, or a gang of cyclists and hikers, and even tourists that had gotten hopelessly lost, which was impressive considering landing in Lunewell was a skill within itself, though these were few and far in between.

  The customer, who was scanning through the shop with what Zarifa could almost call interest, didn’t look remotely like a relative, a hiker, a cyclist, or even a lost tourist.

  She was short, with strawberry blonde hair tied into pigtails by two baby pink ribbons, pale but warm skin that made the light freckles on her cheek pop, and a stark black leather jacket which was visibly well-loved. There was something incredibly familiar about her, though Zarifa couldn’t pin down exactly what it was. 

  The customer’s fingers trailed over one of the antique chairs, before she sprawled over the priceless thing like a rag-doll. The violation snapped Zarifa out of her trance; “Excuse me, miss, but you can’t sit in those chairs!” she informed the customer, her voice raising a pitch higher when the blonde started fiddling with a lighter suspiciously close to the fabric.

  The customer’s head snapped up like a predator hearing prey, and for the first time, Zarifa noticed the woman’s eyes. The irises were a bombastic explosion made of hues of bright green, though it was almost impossible to tell from a first glance, as the pupils were blown so wide as to make the colour but a ring around a black hole.

  There was both something incredibly dangerous about the way she stalked over, sizing her up with those void eyes, but simultaneously, something incredibly intriguing- dare she say attractive- about the girl that made Zarifa want to keep her eyes on her forever.

  “Waste of a good chair, really,” the customer began, leaning over the counter, “what the fuck kind of shop doesn’t allow you to test the chair before you get it?”

  “I know!” Grant exclaimed, turning to the dark-skinned woman. “That’s what I keep saying! How can I know if the chair is good if I’ve never tried it!”

  Zarifa shot a disapproving look at him, irritated that he would encourage this girl. “What can we help you with, miss?”

  “Oooh, miss.” the woman drawled, “I’m looking for a collection of very… special papers that I left in the hands of one Valour Thorn a few years back.”

  “Special?” Grant asked, a look of confusion passing over his face. Zarifa was sure she mirrored the same puzzlement, but the woman merely grinned- an expression that yet again invoked that familiar feeling.

  After a few seconds had passed, and it had been made clear that she would not elaborate, Zarifa grabbed the notepad and pen on the counter and asked for her name. Maybe she was registered somewhere in the frankly ancient system. Assuming they even had a sort of registering system. She had never been the one to handle the technical aspects.

  “Lottie. Lottie Rose,” she said, and Zarifa’s hand froze on the paper. She glanced back up at the blonde, eyes wide and mouth dry. Of course, how hadn’t she seen it earlier? The clothes, the eyes, the lighter everything suddenly made more sense as her memory flooded back.

  “Lottie?” she whispered, faint as the whispers of a breeze, and there must have been something in her tone, because the striking green eyes widened comically, before the blonde suddenly burst out into a tension filled laugh.

  “Should’ve guessed it,” Lottie said after calming down, “can’t be that many Southern old-book nerds with vitiligo around. You should get name tags, I would have recognised Zarifa anywhere.”

  Her name was said in a smaller tone, filled with… with something that melted Zarifa’s insides like molten lava. They stood there in silent pressure, eyes on each other but gazes not quite meeting. It was for the better, as Zarifa’s heart was hammering hard enough that she was worried her ribcage might break. Whether it was from fear or something much scarier, she couldn’t quite tell.

  Grant snapped his fingers, both of them practically sighing in relief as the tension lifted; “Oh”, he began, smiling widely, "exes or childhood friends?” And just like that, the tension was back to crushing. 

  While Zarifa wasn’t quite sure of the state of her own face, Lottie had gone a complete shade of tomato red. “We’re neither,” Zarifa squeaked out curtly, Lottie nodding frantically along. “Can you give me a description of the papers?”

  Lottie straightened out at the request. “Can’t miss them. They’re in an ornate wooden and gold box, with a leaf engraved in the front,” she said, “it’s locked, as far as I know. Don’t know where the key is, but that’s hardly a problem.” She made yet another predatory smirk. 

  “I-I’ll go look for the papers, uh, in the back... miss,” she pushed herself from the counter at an almost inhuman speed and paced into the lounge. On her way, she bumped into one of the chairs, toppling both herself and the object. The sound alerted Bruin, who looked at her quizzically.

  “Was she your ex?”

  “No!” Zarifa exclaimed exasperatedly, “Not every woman I know is an ex!”  

  “No need to get defensive,” Bruin said, flipping a page, “I was just wondering if Grant’s observations were correct.” 

  Zarifa took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. I suppose her visit just… surprised me.” she straightened the chair, and looked at Bruin, “You haven’t seen a wooden and gold box engraved with leaves around here, have you? I can’t recall it, but you’re usually the one sorting the items, so I figured you might have seen it.”

  Bruin hummed, putting down his book and looking pensively at her. “I might have,” he said, after a quiet moment, “though if we do- or did, at any point, it’s not anywhere in the basement.” He glanced up at the ceiling, before returning to the book.

  “I suppose it’ll be upstairs, then,” Zarifa said, with a heavy sigh, “I’ll make Grant call Valour, see if she can bother to show up from… wherever she’s gone.” And try to explain to Lottie that those papers might be inaccessible, she thought, but didn’t add. Lottie was a lot of things, but patient and calm, she was not. 

  As she made her way back to the counter, gripping the golden butterfly hung on her neck tightly, she tried to calm her heart and thoughts. A part of her still refused to believe Lottie was here, after all these years, in an antique shop of all places. It almost felt taunting, in an odd way. The life Zarifa had tried so hard to run from and avoid sneaking through the door, looking more dangerous and simultaneously more intriguing than ever.

  What life had Lottie led? What had happened since that last night? How did she know Valour? What did she want with the papers? All the questions buried themselves into Zarifa’s head, burning and begging for answers. And as Lottie, drumming her fingers on the counter as Grant rambled off about something, came into view, she realised what Eve must have felt like looking at the apple.

  Lottie perked up as Zarifa entered the room, though as her eyes drifted to the empty hands, her smile fell. “Thought I asked for a box,” she said, a raised eyebrow and mean glare that would have been intimidating, had Zarifa not had to deal with years of Valour, and not known that for her, Lottie was all growl.

  “We do, most likely, have the box,” Zarifa began in her most soothing voice, placing her hands on the counter, “but, it’s currently upstairs, in Valour Thorn’s flat, to which none of us has the keys.”

  Lottie sighed, in an exasperated and slightly overdramatic way; “‘Course you fucking don’t. Guess she hasn’t changed at all, still closed off, disappearing, and secretive.” 

  Pot meet kettle, thought Zarifa, though kept her cranberry painted lips sealed. “Grant will give her a call in the morning,” Zarifa said, pushing over a blank slip of paper which had Lottie R- half-written on it in quite nice penmanship. “Just write down your number, and we’ll call you when she arrives.”

  Lottie pulled the paper closer to herself, though made no move to write. “Think she’ll even show up?” she asked, turning to Grant, who smiled at that.

  “Valour actually seems to like me,” he said, proudly, “or, tolerate, at least.”

  “Huh. Didn’t know people still practised witchcraft around this part.”

  “It’s all in my muffins, cakes, and pitiable nature,” Grant said, only half-joking, “I’ll give you a taste one time if you decide to stick around.”

  Lottie nodded, before scribbling onto the paper, and sliding it back. It contained no number, but the name had been completed, albeit with a much sloppier if artistic handwriting. “I’ll know when she returns,” Lottie said, bouncing from foot to foot. There was a firmness in her voice, and she said it with such confidence that Zarifa almost believed her. Almost. “How’s the nightlife here? Worth sticking around for?”

  “Horrid, simply dreadful,” Grant butted in, before Zarifa had the chance to give a quick answer and an even quicker goodbye, “but we do have a lot of pretty places to take a midnight stroll. Trees are lovely here, especially now in the autumn.” He paused, a contemplative look over his face, “Come to think of it, I do know quite a lot of dealers around here that can hook you up, if you’re up for it.”

  “Grant!”

  Lottie chuckled, amusement painted in neon on her face. Seeing some of that flame inside her come to light filled Zarifa with a sense of joy, that she pushed down with a strength bodybuilders would be jealous of. 

  “Oh, I like him,” Lottie declared to Zarifs, jabbing a finger in Grant’s general direction. Her green eyes- which Zarifa had to stop looking at, traced down from Zarifa’s own eyes before landing on her neck. Lottie’s posture, previously energetic and bouncy, froze. “You kept the necklace,” she whispered, though the sound felt louder than all the explosions of the universe.

  Zarifa’s hand was instantaneously on the golden butterfly hanging around her neck, shielding it from the world. The metal felt cool against her skin, even if she could feel her racing heart where her hand rested. “Felt it was a shame to let it go to waste,” Zarifa murmured, technically true, “so I just kept it.” She shifted in the silence for a while, doing her best to ignore Lottie’s eyes glued to the necklace, before clearing her throat and putting on her best ‘professional’ tone; “Was there anything else you needed?”

  Lottie shook her head, leaning back from the counter and adjusting her leather jacket. “No, I’ll be back soon,” she said, before speeding towards the door. She knocked into the vases, making them wobble like jelly, before pushing the door open like she was assaulting it, and leaving nothing but the sound of a bell and the distant thrum of a motorbike. 

  “Lottie, huh,” Grant said, his tone dazed as though he was lost in a daydream, “she was certainly interesting. I’m a fan. Think we’ll see her around more?”

  “Hopefully not,” Zarifa said, running fingers over the butterfly, “hopefully not.” 

[petri808]

We’ll Take Back Heaven a Nalu Yakuza Au

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

A loud slam of the organization’s front door caused Levy McGarden to pop her head out of her own office. Curious, she walked down the hallway and saw a light on in her boss’s, Lucy Heartfilia. Had the noise been Lucy returning? That was strange because it was too early for the woman to be back so soon. The party should have kept Lucy out of the office until morning. Levy knocked at the cracked door before entering.

“Lu, why are you here? Are you okay?” Levy quickly added when she saw her boss’s forehead leaning on the table. “Did you drink too much?”

“No… I ran into Natsu, and we had a fight,” Lucy answered without lifting her head. “He just makes me so angry sometimes, so I stormed out of there.”

“Aww, Lu.” Levy walked over and put a hand on her friend’s head. “I’m sorry.” Both Lucy and Natsu were childhood friends of hers, so she knew the history between them. It was just like a made for television movie plot and hard to stay neutral in at times because she loved them both. “Do you wanna talk about it? Need a drink?”

Having heard the loud noise, another associate Cana Alberona also came looking for the source and stumbled upon the beginnings of the conversation. “Did I hear the word drink?” She popped her head into the office. “Oh, baby what’s wrong??” She questioned at seeing Lucy upset. Cana quickly joined Levy next to their friend. “Who do I gotta kill?”

“It’s just Natsu,” Lucy mumbled. “So, no killing.”

“Oh… him.” Cana plopped her butt onto Lucy’s desk. “Ya sure? I bet I could get one of my girls to take him out of your misery.”

“He wouldn’t be interested,” Levy piped in.

“Right… he’s still—”

Lucy sat up groaning, cutting them off. “That’s enough. I really don’t wanna think about that shit right now.”

“Fine, fine, then drinks it is. Relax, babe,” Cana playfully pushed on Lucy’s shoulder before plopping off the desk. “Then you’re gonna dish about tonight.” Cana always kept a stock of liquors at her desk. So, she grabbed a bottle of high quality flavored junmai daiginjo sake, glasses and set the girls up for a gossiping session.

It was reasons like this that really spoke to the heart of their organization. Everyone in the top level of this girl’s gang had known each other from childhood or high school. They were close, a found family of sisters who all had one thing in common— a real dislike for Japan’s outdated notions of gendered norms, well that and a desire to make money. But not in a conventional way. None of them wanted to work a boring office job only to what, be subservient to the male status quo? No, thank you. So, it had been Lucy who’d first approached everyone with the idea of creating their own high-end crime organization. It was amusing at first to think about an all-girl gang similar to the Yakuza… Oh, they all knew why Lucy came up with the idea to spite Natsu and the Yakuza’s rules, but it was an appealing idea. Everyone except for Levy’s family had some kind of ties to the Yakuza, so they were in essence raised in the lifestyle without ever being able to be a part of it because of their sex.

Together they brought their strengths into play and under Lucy’s business savvy thanks to her father, within just a short couple of years they were on the road to making a real name for themselves. Levy McGarden was at the heart of the organization as a tech person, and her skills in computer language is the reason they’re able to control a massively successful money laundering operation. Cana Alberona had great people skills, so she handled the escort services. Another, Erza Scarlet was the security expert who oversaw anything to do with the protection of their assets and employees. She also kept contacts with law enforcement. Mira Strauss handled the bookkeeping and financial side, and finally Juvia Lockser managed their soapland operation. Lucy herself held everything together but was the face of the group when dealing with knew contacts and clientele. Six primary women running the organization with underlings or regular staff to manage, they were nicknamed the Yosei girls because of the various fairy-type tattoos they all had somewhere on their bodies. Lucy preferred not to show hers to outsiders, but it was a pair of fanciful fairy-like wings that took up a large portion of her upper back. Natsu used to call her his angel back in the day…

The three girls sat huddled around Lucy’s desk after Levy dragged over a couple extra chairs.

“Seriously?” Cana knocked back a shot of sake and planted it on the table. “So, you didn’t have a chance to hit any marks?”

“Nope.” Lucy sipped from her glass. “Sure, I talked to some people, but I never made it past my first cocktail. He even blocked me from getting some action tonight from the hot bartender.”

Cana cringed. “That’s even worse!”

Levy giggled at her friend, “of course, you’d take offense to that Cana instead of the job.”

“Well,” Cana shrugged nonchalantly, “girls gotta take care of needs too, right? And if he was hot, that’s a real shame.”

The comment sent both Levy and Lucy into a giggle fit. Lucy may have started this out irritated but leave it to her friends to bring her out of her despair.

“Oh,” Lucy sighed and finished her glass, “the guy Loke was a total playboy too. Perfect for a no strings attached night.”

“Loke?” Cana questioned. “Orange hair and glasses?”

“You know him?— of course, you know him,” Lucy chuckled. “Why am I surprised.”

“I’ve seen him at other parties bartending. Flirts with all— the pretty girls. Very easy to get into bed, and not bad while in it. I got his number if you want it.”

“Natsu scared him pretty bad. I think Loke recognized him.”

“Hmm, that’s possible too. But hey, what Natsu doesn’t know…”

“Oh, my Kami, Cana! You are just too much sometimes!”

“Hey, just tryin’ to help out my bestie here,” she winked.

“Nah, I’m not in the mood tonight, Natsu really killed my joy.”

“He really thought that the guys there were gossiping about you?” Levy questioned. “Just because you didn’t have an escort?”

“Yeah, and you know even if he was right, he didn’t need to be a dick about it.”

Levy sighed, “he was probably right. It sucks, but that level of men, they look down on women like us. You provide a service, so to them they’re still using you which makes you beneath them.”

“And how dare a woman show up without a man by her side,” Cana rolled her eyes. “Oh well, less guilt for me when I’m taking their money,” she laughed.

Levy and Lucy laughed too, then Lucy raised a glass. “To taking their money! Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The girls clinked their glasses together and shot down their drinks.

“Speaking of escorts, how are things going Cana?” Lucy asked. They called their employees escorts because that’s the only service they provided. Think of them like high-end modern geisha without the traditional look. Their employed women provided companionship for events or business executives trying to look good and we’re trained well in hospitality, etiquette, and such to keep their dates happy. The women were highly compensated for what they did, so it was very lucrative for everyone. Sex was forbidden on the job and if a client ever tried to pressure an escort or roughed them up, they would be immediately barred from the service. However, if the infraction were bad enough, that’s when Erza would step in and handle things. The group was lucky this rarely took place because the male clientele they had wouldn’t want the shame of embarrassment either.

“Going great. We’re already getting booked up for the holidays and that still 4 months away. I guess they wanna make sure they can get certain girls before it’s too late.”

“Suckers.” Lucy snickered. “We’re using their own social norms against them, and they don’t even realize it.”

Between the three friends, they drank about half the bottle before slowing down. The conversation switched between work related topics, private lives, and back to Natsu until Lucy would switch the topic again. She knew of her buddy’s willful infatuation in her decades old battle with the man, but she just wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Lucy still had a lot to process privately about the issues and though she loved Cana as a sister, Levy was the only one she’d really tell her deepest feelings to and now wasn’t the time to rehash anything. A few hours passed by when a knock at the door came. Another of their group was dropping by before heading out to work.

“Hey Juvia!” The three tipsy girls giggle at the same time.

“Wanna join us?” Cana questioned.

“Juvia would but she needs to check on Faerieland.”

“How is our soapland operation doing? Any problems I need to know about?” Lucy asked Juvia. The Faerieland bathhouse was the lowest level of their operations since flesh services were considered distasteful. But nevertheless, it was a highly profitable and legal one. What set them apart from all the others was the high-end quality of services offered to guests, providing both male and/or female “bathers” that clients could pay extra for to have a sexual experience. However, for that service, the client was required to be vetted by an inhouse doctor prior to a booking to make sure they were free of STD’s. Again, that was just one reason Faerieland was considered so high end and very exclusive. Some might have found it inconvenient, but most of the regulars appreciated the health factor. It’s what kept them coming back. All the employed bathers were screened regularly by an in-house doctor, and contrary to societal belief, were there by their own choice. So, the combination of anonymity, safety, and level of service kept the soapland business running with very little down times in between.

Juvia shook her head. “No problems, just busy due to the heat this time of year. Private bookings are scheduled out into next month.”

“That’s good to hear,” Levy smiled. “It’s nice that things have been running so smoothly.”

“Agreed,” Cana and Lucy chimed in.

“There is one thing Juvia should tell Lucy.” Her voice lowered, hesitant. “Mr. Natsu has an appointment booked for the end of the month. And he… just made it tonight.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and her voice dripped with irritation. “So, who’d he sign up to bang?”

“Nobody. Mr. Natsu only booked the deluxe bath and massage package. No sex.”

“Oh—” Lucy caught her surprise before she could show it, waving her hand nonchalantly as if she didn’t care. “W-well good for him. Not that I care if we’re making money of it.”

“Juvia is so relieved! She was worried you wouldn’t like him using our bath house.”

“It’s rare that he does,” Cana tapped her chin. “Hmmm, I wonder why he made the appointment tonight of all days…”

Levy slapped Cana on the arm, glaring at the woman to behave and Juvia just stood there wide-eyed and confused.

“What?!” Cana laughed. “I thought it was funny.”

“Ha-Ha,” Lucy mocked Cana. “What Natsu does is his own business and it’s not like he was trying to relieve himself tonight, the appointment is what, two and half weeks or so away? I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.”

“Okay… Juvia is confused but needs to go. Someone can fill Juvia in tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Juvia,” Levy apologized for the others. “I’ll fill you in later. But don’t worry! Everything is okay.”

“That’s good. Well then. Goodnight, everyone!” Juvia waved as she left the office.

“Goodnight!” The three waved.

“Cana,” Lucy reignited the debated now that Juvia was gone. “I don’t care if Natsu sleeps with other women, how can I when I have no problem sleeping with other men. We’re not a couple. But what does irritate me is that of all the bathhouses to choose, why mine??”

“It’s probably because of our services…” Levy threw in to diffuse the tension. “We do provide the best.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucy sighed, “it just— it feels like he’s doing it on purpose.”

“You know I’m just teasing you, Lucy.” Cana retorted. “But I think you’re also reading too much into it. He’s a guy and history has shown a clueless one when it comes to women, so I doubt he’s masterminded going to the bathhouse as a way to irritate you.”

Lucy exhaled. “You guys are probably right. I guess I’m just still too wound up because of the party.”

“Maybe what you need to do is to unwind Lu,” Levy suggested.

Lucy sat back for a moment mulling over the idea. Yeah, maybe she should. It sure as hell wouldn’t hurt. Maybe let off some steam and stop thinking about Natsu, and a one-night fling could do just that. “You know what…” she turned to Cana with a new resolve. “What’s Loke’s number?”

Cana whipped out her phone. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

[buryyourfavouritestrope]

May I walk you home? - Arima Kishou

A gentle hum settled within the corridors of the CCG Main Office; all the hype that had been built throughout the day had fizzled out hours ago.  Almost every employee had returned to their homes, leaving only the skeleton crews occupying the building.

He hadn’t meant to stay this late; Yoshitoki had pleaded with him earlier in the afternoon, when he’d visited Arima’s office spontaneously and found the man half asleep behind his desk, to go home and sleep in an actual bed. With a sigh he tore himself free of his chair, the material whined as it sprung back to its original form.  In his mind he reminded himself that he’d go home to shower and change before returning. There would be no point in resting; by the time he planted his head on his pillow he’d be beckoned back.

Kishou almost missed the sound of pen scratching at paper. If he hadn’t become so fine tuned to every creak and hushed whisper this level of the building emitted, he probably would’ve overlooked the simple noise. Yet, the soft sigh caressing his ears enticed him into finding the source.

Peering through an empty doorway he spotted her, a small frame hunched over a desk, with a pen cocked to her temple as she focused on the file before her. By the way her eyes would occasionally slid shut and stay there for a second before opening wide she was struggling to stay awake. Arima chose this moment to check the time once again.

“Normally people finish a write up of the day on the opposite side of midnight.” Arima theorized, to say the way she bounced in her seat and dropped all items in her hands didn’t amuse him would’ve been an understatement. He was attempting, rather poorly might he add, to contain a smirk.

“Special Class Investigator Kishou,” She yelped. “I just wanted to finish one file…three or six files ago. What time is it? Oh god, I had to visit-“Her eyes glanced towards her phone, the screen illuminating as the numbers burned into her retinas. She hadn’t meant to stay this late. She hadn’t meant to still be in the office after a thirty-six-hour shift.

“It’s ok, I’ve had my fair share of late nights. But you really should go home now, I hear your last investigation was difficult. It’s not uncommon for a ghoul’s threat level to rise in the field but to go from a lower-class ghoul to an SS rating.” He surmised. Her frame jumped from her seat as she began to wave her bandaged arms at him. As if to stop him from speaking any further.

“It was all the other members of the team, in fact I came away with only light injuries, I can’t say the same for the others.” She blurted. Arima let himself smile gently; he hadn’t met an Associate Special Class Investigator who was as humble as she was. Nor had he seen one with as much untainted innocence at their rank. “I offered to finish their case notes, as a way to help them.”

The room fell into the same gentle hum, Arima had found himself used to, once more. Her weight shifted on her feet as she chewed at her bottom lip. He could see her contemplating something and if he had to guess it would be whether to abandon the paperwork and leave or remain dedicated.

“May I walk you home?” Kishou questioned; it was an attempt to settle her mental debate. “if not now, I can wait for when you’re ready to leave” He added. Arima was curious. He’d always heard everyone’s praise for the Investigator but up until now he’d never conversed properly with her.

“We live in opposite directions” She spluttered, her hand lifting to her lips. “Not that I know where you live, I just meant that I would’ve guessed you lived in the nicer part of the city. I mean the guys in my team tend to call where I live a Ghoul hotspot, I mean I’ve only witnessed one incident outside of work” Her babble made him laugh. A rare noise indeed and it took her a second to notice as she continued talking.

“Even more reason to, plus a perk of being called the White Reaper means ghouls tend to steer clear of me” He jested. Another rare occurrence. The second in the space of five minutes, maybe he was exhausted. Still, he stood firm in the doorway. His eyes watching as she gathered her belongings without hesitation. Clearly, she’d given up protesting.

Before they knew it, they’d wandered further from the ominous Main office. Arima had listened as she stammered her way through the previously mentioned Ghoul case. Occasionally she would brush her fingers over one of her bandaged arms, he assumed she was doing it to remind herself that she wasn’t dreaming.

“What made you want to be an Investigator?” Arima inquired; her movements paused and for a second Arima doubted whether he’d asked the right question. He was curious, everything about her screamed that she was in the wrong profession. From the way she smiled to the way her eyes sparkled when she was nervous. Out loud he wouldn’t admit to it, but he found himself wanting to protect her from the harsh reality of the CCG. From the horrors of the world. Even in this short amount of time she had wiggled beneath the surface of his soul and infected him. He understood why everyone liked her so much.

“My brother,” The syllables held a weight he knew all to well. The numbness that consumed him hung from every letter as he turned his gaze to her. The shadows perfectly masked the emotions scattering across her features. Normally he would pry, a desperate attempt to study the joy people usually held when talking about their motivation. He wanted to be able to imitate it, perhaps to fool himself into believing he could be the same.

“I’m sorry” He found himself apologising, his eyes shifting to watch the surroundings. He’d taken note of almost everyone who had crossed their path. It was a precaution, should he need to fight.

“No, don’t be. If he were here, he’d be fanboying over you, I mean the sort of jaw to the floor type of excitement kids get with tv. He was insanely obsessed with Investigators, he got it from watching our mother. They both had a bizarre joy for dangerous situations. Finny was always an adrenaline junkie, he used to use balcony railings as tightropes, or play chicken in the roads near our home. My mother was always out, so it was my job to watch him. As a teenager he became hyper fixated on Ghouls and Investigators and for a while it was an innocent intrigue into how they fought. As a teenager he wanted to watch our mother in action. He wanted to watch Investigator’s fight in all their glory. So, at night he’d go paroling the back alleys for any Ghouls in our Ward. I used to follow after him just to ensure he didn’t get into any trouble or injured. Most of the time he’d only stumble on human crimes, a few times he’d stumble across a long-abandoned Ghoul attack. Our mother died on a mission years before I thought about joining. In fact, I only really wanted to be a bookstore clerk. Her death though sparked something in Finny, it drove him. He would go out longer, he’d go to the rougher areas. Every time I’d follow after him” She faltered briefly.

“Did he ever get into trouble? I can’t imagine all the time he only saw the back end of a ghoul hunt” Arima asked. It was stupid. He knew that the second he spoke, but his mouth moved quicker than his thoughts. She gave him a false smile. The type he’d used a few times.

“Oh boy, there were a couple close shaves. I used to throw him into a dumpster and cover his mouth to stop us from getting caught by a Ghoul. When we got home, he’d be angry but apologise and promise me he wouldn’t do anything reckless. He died shortly after our mother. For the longest time I blamed myself, he went to parole at the height of Ghoul activity back then, if I remember correctly you were just starting out at the CCG, and he used to rave about a certain blue haired investigator that he occasionally caught site of. I refused to go the night he was injured. I was exhausted from school and a part time job, so I begged him not to go. Selfish am I right?” She croaked. By now Arima should’ve stopped her. He should’ve placed a hand on her shoulder and hushed her as tears slowly fell down her face. Instead, he followed her steps as they turned the corner. The older Investigator wanted to disagree with her. It wasn’t selfish to value her own rest.

Kishou’s mind threw itself back to his beginnings with the CCG, he vaguely remembered hearing about an ordinary human turning up at fights. No-one quite understood how they kept finding them, but they had. The muffled whispers in his memory, caused him to step closer to the younger Investigator. It hadn’t been as though the pavement had narrowed beneath their feet. Arima had done it out of instinct as he listened to his own teenage voice in his memories. He remembered calling the unknown witness a fool, who would find himself dead.

“A bookstore clerk” Arima mused, he had meant to say it in his mind. Once again, his mouth betrayed him. He listened to her soft laugh. “I could see you doing that, just from everything that happened I would’ve thought you’d stay as far from the CCG as you could get.”

“Believe me I wanted nothing more than to move to a new country at that point, start a fresh somewhere less influenced by Ghoul’s but I kept hearing Finny, I kept visualising how happy he would get whenever he saw Investigators out and about. I’d never seen him happier, so I guess I joined to keep his memory alive. Especially after he died, even dying he was smiling as he clung to a piece of what I think was a Quinque” She recalled. “I found him the next morning, I almost fell over his half dead body as I left my room. He was gripping this Quinque shard as I tried to stop the bleeding. I think he accepted it, he just kept saying that the Investigators were beautiful. Apparently, he’d watched two Investigators take down a lower ranked Ghoul and they’d seen him. As they went to yell at him for putting himself in danger, some SS rated Ghoul turned up. Before they’d reached him, one of them had been killed. So the second one did his best to protect Finny. I don’t know how he got out. But he did. I was the only one he knew at his funeral. Just me and the Investigator who told me about the events”  

“I’m sorry,” Arima apologised once more. This time he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok, it’s how life is sometime, I haven’t really told anyone that story, you’re the first.” She smiled at him. Her hands pointed to the home beside them and Arima found himself questioning when they had arrived. Or when his thumb had begun to rub circles into her shoulder. “This is me”

“Yes, then this is where we part ways. Thank you for answering my question. Good Night Asso-“ She cut him off.

“It’s really late, and I’d feel really bad if you had to walk all the way home. I mean the sun would be up before you arrived. So can I offer you the guest room. It’s not much but the bed’s better than the sofa. I have some of my dad’s old shirts in a box that I can fish out for you tomorrow morning.” Her words caught him by surprise. His eyes widening at the offer, he should’ve refused. He really should’ve refused but he found himself nodding.

He was staying because he was tired, because she had spoken to him as though he were her friend or family and because he could’ve sworn, bathed in the moonlight, he could see the vulnerability that encircled her eyes. She needed the company, he convinced himself, and though he knew he wasn’t much in the form of comfort he followed her inside.  

[razieltwelve]

Employee (Final Rose)

Jim wasn’t sure how his parents had tracked him down to the ranch, but he wasn’t happy about it. He’d left home precisely because they’d never given a damn about him. All they’d wanted was someone they could work to the bone to help fund the lifestyle they wanted. They’d never wanted a son. All they’d ever wanted was a servant.

He’d been fifteen when he’d run off. Some of his friends had managed to cobble enough money together to get him a ticket out of the city, and he’d taken odd jobs, doing whatever needed doing, until he’d somehow found his way to the ranch. He’d been eighteen then with three years of hard living under his belt. 

He could still remember the conversation he’d had with Mr Katzroy when he’d showed up. He’d begged him for work, promised to do anything the ranch needed. Whether it was digging ditches, cleaning out the chocobo stables and pens, or cleaning toilets, he’d get it done. All he wanted was a life of his own, one where his choices mattered and he didn’t have to give away all the money he earned.

Mr Katzroy had looked at him for a long time, not saying a single word, before throwing him a funny-looking shovel.

“Start digging,” Mr Katzroy had told him. “I’m putting up another pen, and I need some holes dug for the posts. I’ll pay you fairly for your work, and if you’re any good, you can stick around for a while.” The words might have been a bit harsh, but the smile on Mr Katzroy’s lips had been gentle. “There’s always plenty of work around here, kid. Do your best, that’s all I ask.”

Jim had done his best, and, honestly, he hadn’t done particularly well, looking back on it. But he must have at least impressed Mr Katzroy with his work ethic because the man had kept him on and given him other things to do. It had started off with simple manual labour, but little by little, bit by bit, Jim had been given more important responsibilities.

By the end of his first year there, he was working with the chocobos. The big birds had been scary at first, but he’d learned how to get along with them, and some of them were just like people, really. Chirpy was a good example of that. The golden chocobo had shown him how to approach other chocobos, and Jim had taken the lessons to heart.

It was a good place, the ranch, and Sazh had cottages for his workers to live in. Even now, Jim still felt a rush of warmth whenever he went to his cottage after a long day’s work. It had been the first time he’d really had a proper place to call his own. Over the months, he filled it with things of his own, from a television to a scroll to some new furniture. Each purchase was a reminder that he was making it work, that he was making a future for himself with his own two hands.

The next year after that was a big one for him. Mr Katzroy started teaching him more about how the ranch worked. A lot of the money came from visitors, but they also made a fine living selling some of the chocobos too. Mr Katzroy was adamant about some things when it came to selling, though.

“A chocobo isn’t just a machine,” Mr Katzroy had told him. “A chocobo is a living thing. It’s our responsibility to make sure they go someplace nice with an owner who’ll love them and take care of them the way we do. I don’t sell to anyone who I’m not certain will care for the chocobos. It doesn’t matter how much they offer. Trust me, Jim. You take care of a chocobo, and it will take care of you.”

Jim went from tending to the chocobo pens and stables to riding them and helping with showing around guests. It was... perfect. That was the only way to describe it. He’d grown up in the city, but getting to ride a chocobo was incredible. And getting to show the guests around the ranch and then take them out for riders was something else. His favourite parts of the job were when he and some of the other workers would take guests out for camping trips. Those could last anywhere from a couple of days to a week, and they went from the ranch to all over the property, which was one big place.

He’d finally found a place he could belong.

And now his parents had come after him. He didn’t know how they’d found him, but as his parents stomped toward him, he could feel that old fear again. They were retired hunters - injuries had done a number on them - but they were still more than strong enough to mess him up if they wanted.

Even so, he’d made a life for himself.

“Get out of here,” he said as they closed in. “I’m not going back.”

His father and mother didn’t say a word. They just stepped forward with something ugly in their eyes.

“I’d back off if I were you.” Mr Katzroy stepped off the porch of a nearby building and ambled toward them. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw a dozen of the chocobos come forward to form a lose arc at his back. They were big birds, all of them, and their eyes were hard as they stared at his parents. “I don’t like people threatening my employees.”

“He’s our son,” his mother growled. “He’s coming back with us.”

“He’s not going anywhere unless he wants to.” Mr Katzroy glanced at him. “You want to go with them?”

Jim shook his head. “No.”

“Then you got your answer.” Mr Katzroy pointed lazily. “Hit the road. There’s nothing for you here.”

His father went for the weapon at his side - a staff - and Jim could only blink as the weapon went flying out of his hands. Mr Katzroy lowered his gun - Jim had never even seen him draw it - and shook his head.

“You don’t want to do that.”

It was then that Jim remembered just how dangerous Mr Katzroy was supposed to be. The older man was such a gentle, nice guy that it was easy to forget that he was supposed to be one of the deadliest men alive. Right now, though, with eyes like granite and a voice like cold iron, it was impossible to miss.

“Now wait just a second -”

Mr Katzroy cut his mother off. “You can either leave yourselves, or I can make you.” His Aura flared, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. “You’re nothing but two-bit former hunters, the both of you. I could be twenty years older and half blind, and I could still beat you without breaking a sweat.” Mr Katzroy pointed again. “Get lost. If I even hear about you coming near this place again or making trouble for Jim here, I’ll make you sorry. And believe me, you don’t want that.”

Silently, his parents backed off. Jim watched them scuttle back into their car and then leave.

“You okay?” Mr Katzroy asked quietly.

Jim nodded. “I think so.” He paused. “Thanks.”

Mr Katzroy smiled. “Don’t mention it.” He chuckled. “I figured you were running from something when I first met you, but I have a feeling you’re not going anywhere, at least for a while, are you?”

“No. No. I don’t think I am.” Jim looked around at the ranch. “I think I’ve found what I’m looking for.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

There are all sorts of people and chocobos at the ranch, and all of them have their stories.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Every Rose Has Thorns and Petals

Summary: Brain’s plan is simple: create a Valentine card with a message that the world should adore him as their new ruler. But he needs extra help in coming up with a catchy message to rein in the consumers for the outer cover. And who better to help than the expert of all things amour?

AN: I decided to see if I could write a good Suavo. Enjoy! Warning for terribly cheesy flirting. I don’t typically write this genre XD

This borrows from the HC that Pinky can still do the Suavo persona.

Written for Valentine's Day/Suavo Sunday. I regret everything.

AO3 Link

At last, a new plan came to fruition! With Valentine’s Day looming upon them with its chocolate-coated fangs and sickly sweet aroma, people would be flocking to grocery stores everywhere to purchase giant teddy bears they could barely carry around and heart-shaped boxes of gourmet chocolate. But most lucrative of all, they would buy Valentine cards with the most obnoxious lovestruck messages that were far cheesier than Pinky’s cheesecake.

Everything clicked into place. The slightly larger than average dimensions of a Valentine’s card. Various red and pink hues for the envelopes. Colorful images with hearts, roses, and Pinky on the front cover (for Pinky met all of the scientific criteria that triggered one’s protective instincts). And on the inside, an image of Brain standing on the world in royal regalia with a message declaring that all the world shall adore him as their new leader.

But there was a single, glaring flaw to his otherwise brilliant plan.

He could not come up with a ridiculous phrase for the outside cover. It had to be eye-catching, humorous, or corny enough to grab a customer’s attention. He stared at the smiling picture of Pinky for several minutes, then gave in.

Pinky was the expert in all things ridiculous after all.

“Life is the road I wanna keep going! Love is a river and I wanna keep going ooonnnn!” Pinky sang along to his playlist, leading a Barbie doll in a tender waltz.

And it was best to interrupt before Pinky’s playlist reached My Heart Will Go On. That sappy 90s love ballad was on there. He was not striking the King of the World pose until he was actually king of the world, but that assertion hadn’t gotten through Pinky’s cotton-stuffed head yet.

Brain grabbed the prototype card and pencil, marching up to the windowsill where Pinky and Barbie danced under the evening sky. The sun lowered, the moon rose, and the first twinkling stars poked out, signifying the beginning of another night.

The phone was propped against a wall, and Brain smacked the image of Anastasia and Dmitri dancing to stop the song as he passed by. Pinky continued to hum, dipping Barbie low enough that her blonde hair touched the windowsill. His eyes were half-lidded, tail swishing to an invisible beat. Though there was no music, his rhythm was steady and his feet never missed a step.

It was mesmerizing. Pinky danced with all the grace of a professional ballerina.

He pricked his finger on a sharp point of the prototype card, and the poke brought Brain back to reality. Right. No distractions.

“Hiya, Brain! Zort!”

Dear Archimedes there were otherworldly blue eyes right in front of his face.  

Startled, Brain leapt back and swung his pencil defensively. There was a muffled narf as the eraser end went into Pinky’s mouth. Once the initial shock passed, Pinky giggled and nibbled on the eraser, several rubbery shavings poking out between his teeth.  

Brain took a deep breath, trying to calm his too-fast heartbeat.

“Quit slobbering on my erasers, Pinky,” Brain snapped. He removed his pencil from Pinky’s mouth, wrinkling his nose at the saliva-coated eraser. He tossed it aside, and the pencil skittered across the counter and onto the floor.

“But they taste so good!” Pinky licked his lips. “Especially with a pinch of dryer lint. That way you get fluff and chewiness in one single fantastic bite!”

Sometimes he truly worried for the state of Pinky’s digestive tract. For now, it was best to change the topic entirely. “As much as I’d love to debate the intricacies of your exotic cuisine, I require some of your eccentric expertise for my latest plan,” Brain said, setting the prototype card on the counter.

Pinky’s tail and ears perked up. A predictable reaction, but reliable all the same.

While Pinky put Barbie away, Brain retrieved a new pencil. There were few writing utensils that weren’t chewed up by a bored employee or Pinky for fun, and it wouldn’t be long before Brain would have to acquire more.

“I gotta help Brain now, Barbie. Thanks for sharing a dance with me! Those ballroom dance classes are really paying off!” Pinky chirped, waving to the inanimate Barbie, who now sat in a pink plastic convertible next to a shirtless Ken doll. He peeked inside the card and clasped his hands together, holding them against his cheek dreamily. “Awww, Brain! This is gonna be so romantic!”

“The very atmosphere I intend to create with these mass-produced cards, Pinky,” Brain replied. “However, while I have all the elements of your typical Valentine card alongside an additional message that will aid us in our conquest, I haven’t worked out one essential component yet.”

He closed the card and tapped the empty speech bubble next to Pinky’s image.

Pinky tilted his head. “You haven’t figured out how to make single people buy your cards yet?”

Drat. He hadn’t considered those outliers.

“Then we’ll just have to infiltrate the postal service,” Brain said, mentally congratulating himself on correcting that error quickly. “But before we implement the plan, I need a Valentine phrase for this speech bubble. A saying that will entice the average infatuated consumer and hook them into purchasing my cards alone. And since you lean heavily toward the sentimental and saccharine…well, this is where I require your assistance.”

“The sentimental and the saccharine?” Pinky echoed. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that soap opera, Brain. What channel is it on?”

Brain opened his notebook and found an empty page, poised to jot down Pinky’s suggestions. “The real life channel. Don’t be concerned about missing it, Pinky. It’s on 24/7 all year long. But I digress. The sooner I find a phrase, the sooner we’ll have the world!”

Pinky tapped his foot in thought, the tip of his tongue poking out like he truly believed protruding tongues had the power to magically grant ideas. For all Brain knew, Pinky probably believed that.

Then Pinky snapped his fingers. “I got it! How ‘bout ‘be mine, valentine’?”

“Too cliché,” Brain muttered. A million Valentine cards would already have similar phrasing. They didn’t have time to seize control of a greeting card factory. “Not unique enough.”

Although the valentine bit wasn’t particularly directed toward him, his grip on the pencil slackened, the tip leaving a graphite smudge along the margins. He quickly turned the pencil around and erased it, hoping Pinky didn’t catch onto his brief moment of inattention.  

Fortunately, Pinky didn’t notice. “Alrighty then. Hmmm…you’re the sour cream to my cheese-slathered potato?”

“…I’ll save it for a last resort.”

Well, he asked for unique. But sour cream didn’t particularly invoke strong Valentine feelings. Idioms that involved sweet foods with enough sugar to induce diabetes in an elephant would be better, and he made a quick note to the side.

“I turtle-y adore you?” Pinky suggested, his blue eyes sparkling accordingly.

Brain felt a light blush settling over his cheeks, and he rubbed his fur to rid himself of the mortifying feeling. “Doesn’t match your picture. And no animal puns unless they involve mice.”

Pinky rubbed his chin, not one to be easily deterred. “There’s gotta be some good ones on the Internet.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Pinky,” Brain sighed. He sat cross-legged on the counter, massaging his forehead to intercept any headaches before they began. “Figured we should’ve gone with the photobooth plan. It’s your fault for influencing my subconscious with your caterwauling over The Princess Bride’s movie adaptation.”

“Troz! I’ll have you know Princess Buttercup and Westley have great chemistry!” Pinky pouted.

Brain rolled his eyes. “Please. They’re about as compatible as two noble gases.”

Pinky went quiet after that. Whether he’d gone off into the imaginary world of talking cheeses or taken unusually great offense on the lead couple’s behalf, Brain wasn’t sure. But the silence obliged, and Brain took the opportunity to ponder their next course of action.

Take a risk and use one of Pinky’s earlier suggestions? Scrap the plan entirely and pull one from storage? Seek a second opinion?  

Then Pinky gasped, his tail pointing high in the air like an inverted exclamation point.

“Brain, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Pinky asked, gripping Brain’s shoulders in excitement.

Brain leaned back, supporting himself on the palms of his hands. “We break out the Feldman disguises and ask Mr. Sultana for his opinion on what a hypothetical Valentine card should say?”

“I’m sure he’s got a bunch of good ones, but that’s not it,” Pinky said. “Actually, I oughta slip into something more…in-character. I’ll be right back!”

Pinky skipped away, humming as he went over to his dress-up box in the corner of their cage. He pulled a divider around himself so that all Brain could see was a shadowy silhouette rummaging through clothing and accessories.

Brain continued to ponder, though no feasible ideas were coming to him. He closed his eyes, shutting out all visual forms of distraction. He listened to Pinky dressing in the cage, but it was more white noise than a true hindrance.

Five minutes later, he still had nothing. But there was something…different.

A tantalizing scent. Not overly sharp, though just light enough that he couldn’t identify it with confidence. And he wanted to know more.

It wasn’t fruit or soap. Nor was it vanilla, like the scented candles Pinky loved so much.

Something smooth snaked its way under his nose, brushing the fur above his lips. The scent was closer now. His nose twitched.

“ACHOO!”

Startled by the force of his sudden sneeze, Brain’s eyes flew open. He rubbed his nose to wipe off the lingering sensation, staring down at Pinky’s long tail, which sat unassumingly in his lap. The tip was wrapped around the stem of a small red rose.

The tail lifted, rubbing against the fur under Brain’s chin. Brain felt his cheeks heat up again, and he quickly batted the offending appendage away.

“Pinky, you’re not helping my state of-“ Brain began, ready to launch into a verbal tirade on how he needed to think and if Pinky wasn’t going to help then he could make like a mitotic cell and split…and then he saw a very familiar, perhaps all too-familiar, lavender tuxedo with an overstuffed dark purple…something underneath.

He couldn’t tell if it was a shirt, vest, or pincushion. A gold button glinted in the middle of Pinky’s chest.

Gulping, Brain knew the mysterious article of clothing was the least of his concerns. He forced himself to look up, gaze raking past the slender neck and toward half-lidded, coy blue eyes. A sophisticated mustache poked out from each side of Pinky’s muzzle. And he was genteel, charismatic…

Suave.  

Pinky’s ability to play a character to perfection never ceased to astound him. He still remembered? Brain had long destroyed the Personalitron and its blueprints, deeming them unnecessary and cumbersome.

“Pardonnez-moi, you with the giant head and marshmallow body are seeking the passionate advice of I, the great Pinky…Suavvvo-“ he drawled every syllable with that odd French accent, r’s rolling off his tongue like smooth butter “-for your…ah, Saint Valentine card, no?”  

Fu—choose your words wisely—I mean, dear name of a historical contributor to the scientific or mathematical field who I can’t identify properly at this time.

“I fail to see how playing dress-up is going to help with this conundrum, Pinky Suavo.” Brain stood up and crossed his arms. He wasn’t about to let the Suavo persona sway him. He was the Brain, and he bowed to no one.

Exert control over the situation. Yes. That’s what he needed.

Suavo plucked the rose from his tail between two practiced fingers, inhaling its scent deeply. Where did he even get that rose from? The lab wasn’t growing flora for any reason, nor did any scientist have the green thumb to care for anything so fragile.

“Oh, but love is always…how did you say, a conundrum, is it not?” he purred, and Brain scowled. But Suavo was unperturbed. “One may pluck the petals from a pretty flower and ask if one loves or loves not, yet how will one know if they ask the flower and not the lover? Oh, I do not know.”

His voice dipped into a lower, softer register, and a strange sensation traveled up Brain’s spine. Though the riddle seemed directed at him, he wasn’t in the mood to unravel any cryptic meanings.

Just like before, Suavo’s magnetism was…hypnotizing. Like he had no choice but to do what Pinky Suavo said. And wasn’t that ironic? He, the Brain, as the hapless follower instead of the commanding leader.

Suavo appeared oblivious to Brain’s internal dilemma. He simply set the rose back into his tail and twirled one curled end of the mustache around his finger, humming a dreamy, sentimental song to himself. He was waiting on Brain in the most irritating fashion possible.

But if he wanted this plan to work, he’d just have to tolerate Pinky’s attempt at resolving his predicament.

“Pinky Suavo,” Brain sighed, forcing all his pride back. Suavo turned to him, his eyes still in that odd half-lidded position. “Is that overstuffed pincushion actually giving you ideas for the card?”

“Of course, mon ami.” Suavo slicked his ears and fur tuft back with a smooth, graceful stroke of his hand. “For it is he, who is I, who is the connoisseur of…ammooooouuuur.”

Brain grabbed his notepad and pencil, his stomach doing odd backflips like butterflies had somehow burrowed their way into his flesh and laid eggs there. He was not paying attention to Suavo’s hand movements. No, the eye was just naturally drawn to movement. That’s how it worked.

Besides, he was looking at the same being who once managed to get all his fingers and tail tangled up in a complicated cat’s cradle.

Suavo clicked his tongue, deftly plucking the items out of Brain’s grip. “No, no, you silly mouse. You cannot experience amour through pen and paper alone. You must feel it, see it, hear it. For it is everywhere and anywhere you search…if only you would use those big ears of yours.”

Brain gritted his teeth and jumped for his supplies, but Suavo simply held them out of reach with one long arm. All Brain could manage was a tiny hop. It wasn’t getting him anywhere.

So he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

“I’m listening, Pinky Suavo,” Brain said, hoping he sounded at least a little cordial. “I believe the colloquial is, I’m all ears?”

A pleased smile flitted across Suavo’s face, his arm lowering.

Perfect.

Then Brain threw himself forward, digging his hands and feet into Suavo’s clothing and hauling himself towards the notepad and pencil. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to grip. Suavo stumbled a bit, but he refused to yield. Brain grabbed a fabric fold on Suavo’s right shoulder. He was so close-

-and a red nose pushed into his own. Warm, mint-scented breath tickled the fur on his face.

“You know, it is more, ah, polite to take a mouse to dinner before you begin climbing him, is it not?” Suavo crooned.

Brain’s ears flopped against his back, a warm sensation sweeping through his body. His clammy paws lost their grip on Suavo’s clothing, and he would’ve fallen entirely if Suavo’s free arm hadn’t wrapped around his waist and secured him with a strong yet gentle grip.

In hindsight, perhaps his attempt at reclaiming his belongings was ill-thought out.

Perhaps it was for the best that the arm was covered by fabric, but at the same time, some irrational thought of wanting Pinky’s fur against his own wormed its way into his mind.  

Suavo set the notepad and pen down with care, dipping Brain in the process. Brain clutched the fabric tightly, but it was unnecessary. Suavo’s embrace was strong enough to prevent him from landing on his head. Then Suavo straightened up, once again plucking the rose from his tail and holding it next to Brain.  

“Oh, now this is…magnifique,” Suavo murmured, his eyes darting from the rose to Brain’s face. Though Brain tried to maintain eye contact to make his displeasure known, his resolve was quickly crumbling away. Surely it was the close proximity, the thumb stroking his fur, that was picking apart all rational thought and leaving some hormone-driven creature behind?

“What?” Brain asked, and he inwardly cringed. His voice wasn’t working properly. He’d meant to sound more demanding than that pathetic excuse of a question.

“Your eyes, mon ami, are just a few shades lighter this rose,” Suavo said. Brain stared at him in disbelief. Comparing eyes to flowers, or worse, gemstones, was just ridiculous.

And your comparison of Pinky’s aesthetically pleasing eyes to the wild blue yonder above isn’t?

Brain ignored the contemptuous voice. That was completely different. The sky was neither a flower nor a gemstone, and therefore it wasn’t off-limits. Besides, it was a thought for him and him alone. It’s not like anyone else was going to hear it.

“You are but a deer mouse in the headlights. Yet there is no need to hide under a thorny layer,” Suavo hummed, tilting his head curiously. Deliberately. How strange. Even the slightest movement was mesmerizing. His fingers traveled up the flower stem, until his hand rested underneath the petals, supporting the tiny rose in the palm of his hand. “A rosebush may scratch and prick, yet the great Pinky Suavo cannot be swayed. For there’s a pretty bloom hidden in the darkness, and he is who moi shall…shall…NARF!”

Shocked by the return of the nonsensical exclamation, Brain lost his hold on Pinky Suavo’s clothing. He fell onto the counter surface with a pained groan. The hard material wasn’t doing wonders for the bends in his tail.

Something fluttered against his nose, causing Brain to sneeze again. He removed the offending object, and found himself staring down at the rose he’d been teased with. If he ignored the heavy-handed rose imagery Suavo kept spouting, it was rather adequate for a specimen.

“Narf! Zort! Poit! Egad!” Pinky laughed uncontrollably between his usual tics, uttering them at such a fast rate that they started to blend together like a tongue twister. “Ooh, I haven’t—troz! Haven’t said narf in a long time! But it’s poit—it’s okay cause you needed my help!”

Idiot.

Brain sighed and pushed himself to a standing position, then placed the rose on his notepad so Pinky could reclaim it later.

Now that he thought about it, Pinky hadn’t said any of his favorite syllables in his Suavo persona. Of course, they’d been replaced by stupid love poetry and gratuitous French, but the narfs and poits and zorts were rather refreshing.

Odd. He never thought he’d actually miss Pinky’s…unique diction.

“Pinky, were you actively suppressing your usual speech patterns in your strange form of assistance?” Brain asked. He couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Zort! Oh Brain, I’m not nearly as good as suppressing things like you are!” Pinky’s chortles continued as Brain grabbed his wrist and led him straight to the water bottle in their cage. “Besides—narf! Besides, I had to stay in character!”

“Remind me to never have you play a villain for any future plans revolving around cinema,” Brain grumbled.

Pinky’s tail happily flicked against Brain’s own. Though the imbecile was just swishing it around mindlessly, the brief physical contact suddenly brought back that very odd, warm sensation.

Curse this heightened sensitivity! It’s only a principle of thermodynamics and heat transfer!  

“Brain, are you okay? Poit,” Pinky asked as Brain made him sit down in front of the water bottle. “You’re all woozy and whirlywindy. And white and red all over like a newspaper!”

“I’m f-fine,” Brain said. He was absolutely not relying on Pinky for balance. “Just drink, Pinky. And take off those silly clothes when you’re done.”

Pinky stared, not comprehending anything Brain said, but that was normal for him. Then he started to laugh, and only then did Brain realize he needed to watch his word choice, especially around a certain someone, because of course his fluff-filled mind would misconstrue it.

“Not like that!” Brain spat.

Pinky tipped onto his back, legs kicking upwards as his high-pitched laughter continued to assault Brain’s ears.

For the sake of his own sanity, he left Pinky to his own devices and stormed over to the nearest sink. He pushed on the tap for cold water until he’d created his own miniature waterfall, then hopped right in. He welcomed the cascade over his body.

As long as it pushed his homeostasis in the opposite direction, he was fine with resembling a drowned rat for now.

o-o-o-o-o

The plan failed before it ever took off. Brain had been so distracted that he’d failed to notice the lab was completely out of colored ink, rendering the copy machines completely useless.

He’d gone with the ‘you’re the sour cream to my potatoes’ message for the front cover, formatting it into the speech bubble in an elegant cursive font. Though it wasn’t conventional by any means, he simply considered it again since no other suggestions were forthcoming.

But at the same time, part of him wasn’t keen on allowing the masses to lay eyes on the Valentine card.

It seemed special. Unexplainably so.

“Brain?” Pinky called. His verbal tics had long gone back to their normal frequency. “Aren’t we taking over the world tonight?”

Brain shook his head, relieved that he finally had control over his body again. “Not tonight, Pinky. I’m afraid I’ve been prematurely thwarted by the lack of inventory in this lab.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be afraid, Brain,” Pinky said. Gone were Suavo’s clothing and mustache, and Pinky’s lean, muscular arms were on full display as he folded them across his chest. “I’ll protect you from Tory.”

It was an unnecessary gesture, but Brain couldn’t help but be touched by the admission all the same. Brain made a show of carefully placing the card into storage, just so he could distract himself momentarily.  

When he finished his task, he found Pinky holding an elegant paper rose, crafted meticulously with purple tissue paper. A light blush settled over Brain’s cheeks as he accepted the gift from Pinky, whose blue eyes shone brightly as Brain ran his fingers over the soft petals.

“Thank you, Pinky,” Brain said gratefully, and he resisted the urge to rush off immediately and place the paper rose with his globe keychain, another gift from his dearest friend.

“You’re welcome!” Pinky smiled, and Brain’s heart beat faster. Then Pinky’s gaze flicked to the TV screen, and Brain figured he was about to be roped into watching a cheesy love story unfold. “Brain, can we watch Beauty and the Beast please? With those special Valentine M&M’s and chocolate-coated popcorn? I saw a whole bunch in the kitchen! Narf!”  

Well…he could’ve suggested worse. At least this one was tolerable.

And it’s been a while since they’d watched a movie together.  

“Get everything set up, Pinky,” Brain ordered. “I’ll join you when I’m finished with my own tasks.”

Pinky saluted and scampered into the kitchen, grabbing the rose he’d held in his Suavo persona along the way. He sang at the top of his lungs, though he’d forgotten most of the actual words and replaced them with a series of narfs and portmanteaus. Once Pinky was sufficiently distracted, Brain moved his notepad and pen over to the TV, then laid the paper rose over it.

He heard the crinkle of a bag followed by the sound of M&M’s being poured into a bowl. Pinky would be back any minute.

Brain knocked his head against the side of a wall.

Calm yourself. Pinky believes pebbles are precious gifts. You’ll be fine. Probably.

Slowly, he approached the drawer where he’d kept his hidden present. Sifting through several sheets of paper covered with complex formulas he’d deliberately placed in there to ward off Pinky, he found the sunflower pen he’d carefully hidden towards the back.

It wasn’t exactly…traditional for a Valentine’s gift. Simple blue ink with a green body and tipped with a bright yellow sunflower.

But it was bright. And colorful. Like Pinky.

More importantly, it was practical.

Brain’s ears twitched, and he heard the whirring of the VCR as Pinky popped in the movie. Brain debated leaving the pen and presenting it after the movie, but he didn’t want to procrastinate either. Otherwise it would be impossible to enjoy their activity.

Well, he could just drop it in Pinky’s lap. And snatch up some popcorn so his actions wouldn’t be too conspicuous. He climbed out of the drawer, holding the pen behind his back.

A preview for The Little Mermaid began to play. Pinky was enraptured by the animated marine animals. He seemed so happy.

Maybe he should reconsider. Valentine items would be discounted next week. He could just hold off and give a belated…what was he thinking? Valentine’s was just another day to turn profit!

The paper rose was sitting right there. No…Valentine’s meant something to Pinky. Like Christmas.

“Goody, you’re back, Brain!” Pinky cheered, stuffing two pink M&M’s into his mouth. The large bowl beside him was overflowing with chocolate. “It’s not raining inside, but I love your parasol! Where’d you buy it?”

A parasol?

He glanced up at the sunflower. Oh. So there was a resemblance to a parasol, he supposed. If one viewed it at a certain angle, that is.

“It’s a pen. Not a parasol. Take it,” Brain said, holding out the sunflower pen.

Pinky didn’t take it.

Instead, he made a joyful noise and crushed Brain with a flying embrace. Brain dropped the pen in surprise as Pinky’s entire body curled around him, feet off the ground. Brain had to support all his weight, Pinky’s warm fur brushing against his own.

“I love it! Loveitloveitloveit! Thanks, Brain!” Pinky squealed, happy tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“You’re welcome, Pinky,” Brain murmured as Pinky nuzzled his cheek. “Now get off. I require my lungs. And heart. And my digestive system.”

Pinky didn’t get off until the Disney fanfare to herald the beginning of the movie began to play. Then he quieted down immediately, rolling the sunflower pen so that it rested across his lap.

“…happy Valentine’s Day,” Brain whispered, nibbling on a red M&M.

Pinky smiled back, teeth flecked with bits of chocolate. He shushed Brain, not wanting him to interrupt the opening narration.

As the enchanted rose appeared onscreen, Brain stroked the soft tissue paper of Pinky’s beautiful creation. Then he set it aside and reached for some popcorn.

His world was here. And there was nothing more he wanted.

Fun fact: the original name for this fic was going to be Suavo Valentino, but the current title was a last minute change cause somehow I just wrote a lot about roses.

Another change: The Princess Bride bit was originally a dig at High School Musical and how Disney Channel has bad romance in general, but since that was mid 2000s I changed it so this story could reasonably fit in the 90s.

Suavo’s lines...were interesting. I couldn’t stop laughing at how dumb some of them were though.

Brain’s got it bad here. Save him.

Are the roses corny? Yes. Do I care? Not really. Maybe. Possibly.

[delos-mio]

Death of a Bachelor - EPILOGUE

“Fuck, we’re so late!” you sighed as Charles pressed the elevator button for the 15th floor of the downtown high-rise. This photoshoot and interview had been on the books pretty much as soon as you and Logan got back from your honeymoon, so really, there was no good reason to be running this far behind. But, you’d been held up at the hotel putting out small fires that didn’t stop just because you were away from the office.

“Sorry! I know, I know. I don’t know why Cole can’t figure out how to convert anything to a fucking PDF.” Charles had been promoted to office manager and had been doing a spectacular job. You always knew he would be, but when it was finally time to add on those additional responsibilities, he took them on effortlessly. He did still enjoy moonlighting as your personal assistant, even though technically you had hired someone new to do that job. Now when he helped you out, it was as a devoted friend as opposed to paid employee.

“Just…just talk to him tomorrow, please?” you asked, the elevator pinging and doors opening.

“Don’t worry- you can consider it done.”

Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you made your way to the receptionist’s desk. The Forbes HQ was sleek and screamed “wealth”, which you were used to at this point. As you got closer, the curly haired woman stood up from her seat with a bright smile and rounded the desk to greet you.

“Mrs. Delos! We’re so excited to have you here!” She took your hand and gave it a shake.

“Thank you, happy to be here,” you replied, dropping her hand. “But, I actually kept my own last name,” you corrected gently. It was an honest mistake and one that happened often. You’d perfected the polite correction over the last couple months.

“I am SO sorry,” she said with genuine embarrassment. “Truly, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s really ok, dear. It happens all the time.” You waved her off quickly and reassured her it was just fine. “Besides, there are a lot worse things to be called than a Delos, right?” The smile finally returned to her face.

“You’re right about that,” she laughed and visibly let out a breath. “Here, follow me. The rest of your group is just through here.”

You followed her down a hall with double doors at the end. Just as she was about to usher you in, you heard your favorite laugh in the whole wide world. There Logan was, laughing at something Elliot had said, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. You loved it when he let go like that and just enjoyed himself and his company. He was handsome all the time, but he was absolutely breathtaking when he was happy. Logan must have heard the door shut behind you as he opened his eyes and turned to you, a grin plastered on his face. He held out his hand to you, which you were all too happy to take.

“Hey,” you whispered just to him.

“Hi,” Logan breathed back before placing his palm on the small of your back and kissing you with a smile still on his lips. “Glad you made it.”

“I was always going to make it,” you huffed, shoving his shoulder gently. “Sorry for being late.”

“I’m a patient man,” he shrugged.

“No, you’re not,” you laughed and he broke into a grin. “You look extra handsome.”

“Thank you, princess. You look entirely fuckable yourself,” he said in a low voice just for you, his hand wandering down your backside.

“Ugh, ok, enough,” Juliet said with a roll of her eyes. “Can we get this show on the road?”

With that, the photographer came over and started arranging everyone in front of the windows with the New York skyline in the background. Elliot and Emily were directed to stand together back toward the window, Charles placed just next to them. Juliet stood near the middle with John by her side. Finally, the photographer had you stand on Logan’s left side, the two of you front and center. Without prompting, Logan wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in close, kissing your temple.

“Can you…sorry. Forbes is looking for more…professional shots…” The photographer attempted to interrupt, but Logan kept his arm around you, only glancing in his direction.

“So, I’m not allowed to kiss my wife?” Wife. You still loved hearing the word fall from his lips.

“I…” the photographer drawled, clearly uncomfortable and unsure how to answer.

“I’m fucking with you. We can behave for an hour, can’t we?” Logan asked you, arching an eyebrow.

“I can. Jury’s still out on you,” you winked. You heard Logan groan that desperate little sound he liked to make in the back of his throat and ignored him, turning to the lens as the camera clicked.

The photo shoot was light and fun. You weren’t really sure what to expect since your experience being professionally photographed was extremely limited. But, Logan was a seasoned pro and never let you out of his grip, quietly encouraging you and fawning as picture after picture was snapped.

“Alright, I think we got what we need. You all did great,” the photographer smiled and set his camera down. “I think Carmen is set up in the other room whenever you’re ready.”

“Have you guys already talked to her?” you asked Emily.

“Yeah, she grabbed all of us before you and Chuck came. I think she’s doing his interview last.”

“Sounds good. How was it? Is she nice?” you asked, nervously thumbing the band on your ring finger, a new habit you’d picked up.

“She was pretty cool, actually,” Elliot shrugged.

“Mostly asked about you two,” John smirked. “Y’know, making sure you’re treating us good and all that.”

“Whatever,” Logan laughed. “You ready, babe?” You nodded and he draped his arm over your shoulder, ushering you into the small side room where a Forbes journalist sat.

“Mr. and Mrs. Delos! Very nice to meet you! I’m Carmen.” She introduced herself and shook your and your husband’s hands.

“Thank you for having us. However, my wife has kept her last name,” Logan said with a charming smile.

“Of course, of course. My apologies. A modern woman- I love it!” Carmen chirped before gesturing you both to take a seat. Logan waited for you to settle in, smooth down the top of your pencil skirt, before taking his seat next to you and placing his arm around you along the back of the couch.

“So, some congratulations are in order! First, congrats on Delos being named one of the Most Innovative Companies. That’s quite an accomplishment for your first year of ownership.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a small nod.

“Second, congrats on your recent nuptials! Tech’s most eligible bachelor is officially off the market,” Carmen laughed. “Tell me a little bit about your wedding before we get into the meat and potatoes.”

“Well,” you started, “We started planning a kind of big wedding, something that we thought weddings usually looked like. But a couple months into making arrangements, we decided that it wasn’t for us and everything we’d been planning just wasn’t what we wanted. So, we rounded up everyone who was in that photoshoot with us and eloped in Fiji.”

“Wow, that’s quite a 180. And Fiji, that must have been beautiful!” Carmen beamed, clearly caught up in the whimsy of just fucking off impulsively to another country and getting married.

“They’re our family and at the end of the day, everyone else we planned on inviting was just decoration. It was nice just to have the people who mattered there with us,” Logan said, looking at you with a soft smile. “I only cared that my wife walked down to meet me at the end of that isle. Whatever else she did or didn’t want on that day was good with me.”

“That’s so sweet,” Carmen cooed. “Well, I’m very happy for you and marriage looks good on you both.” She took a moment to turn on the recording function on her phone and organize her notes. “So, once you got home, walk me through what happened at Delos. There has obviously been a lot of speculation between the change in ownership, the pivot to Virtual Reality, and the acquisition of other businesses.”

“As you know, John and I bought Delos last year from my father. In that last year, we more or less gutted the whole thing and started new. We kept on Juliet, obviously, and my secretary and that was it. Everyone else was let go. We made sure to bring in talent that was new and fresh and rallied around building Delos back up. My father liked people who said yes to him, and that led to a lot of stagnation both in new ideas and growth for the business. John and I didn’t want that. We wanted to make Delos our own.” Logan had that proud, serious look in his eyes that made you clamp your thighs together just a little bit tighter. “Our vision of the future of Delos required a clean house and staff who were excited and innovative.”

“That’s a bold move. What empowered you to take such a big leap?” Carmen asked.

“Is it corny if I say the woman sitting next to me?” Logan chuckled.

“Oh Christ, stop,” you laughed.

“I mean it though!” Logan looked over at you fondly, his gaze soft before turning back to Carmen. “She has pushed me since the first day we met. And she’s supported me unconditionally all this time. I don’t think I’d have the courage to do half of what we’ve accomplished if I didn’t know I had her behind me.”

“The thing about Logan is that he’s incredibly driven. If he wants to accomplish something, he puts his mind to it and he does it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” You squeezed above his knee, feeling an incredible swell of pride in your chest. He really had some so far and worked so, so hard in the years you’d been together. It was hard not to feel proud and keep the tears from your eyes. Logan must have sensed what was going through your head because he leaned over to press a quick kiss to your temple, just something light to ground you, remind you he had your back too.

“Once John and I had cleared everyone out, that left us with four employees. Which wasn’t going to work, clearly. But lucky for me, my beautiful wife is also an entrepreneur,” Logan smiled.

“Yes. I’d owned my own marketing firm and really, it just made sense at that point kind of merge the two companies.” You nodded.

“We brought marketing in house and took on her staff and bought her business in exchange for ownership shares. Now, Delos is a three owner operation,” Logan grinned. It was important to both of you that you not work for Logan, but rather with him. “Her old assistant became our office manager and is now in charge of day-to-day operations. My sister and brother in law, Emily and Elliot, moved out to LA from Milwaukee and headed up talent management and recruiting. They helped us fill in the other vacancies left.”

“So, it really is a family affair, huh?” Carmen asked, looking between the two of you.

“I think we’ve both learned how important it is to keep a tight circle of people you can trust. These are people we’ve known our entire lives, that are the very best at what they do, and are unwaveringly loyal.�� You looked at Logan, who nodded in agreement. “Saying ‘yes’ to everything and being loyal aren’t the same thing. And I think that’s something that previous ownership never understood.”

“Damn right,” Logan affirmed with a crooked smile, his eyes still trained on you.

“I think ‘power couple’ doesn’t even come close to describing you two! It’s been amazing as someone who watches the market and businesses to see Delos rise from the ashes into this juggernaut that it is today.” Carmen seemed genuinely impressed and a bit enamored by you and Logan.

“It was a lot of long nights and hard work. But we like to think it’s been worth it, right?” You asked Logan.

“It’s all been worth it. Everything.”

---

About a month later, you were curled up on the couch, totally zoning out as an episode of Real Housewives of Potomac played. Sleep was weighing heavy on your eyelids when the front door opened and shut again. Finally, Logan was home which meant you now had your favorite pillow to fall asleep on. You listened to him set down his keys, hang up his jacket in the closet, and grab himself a San Pellegrino before wandering into the living room.

“Happy you’re home,” you said with a sleepy smile, reaching out your arms to beckon him over.  

“Happy to be home,” Logan laughed and took his normal spot in the corner, legs sprawled out on the chaise, and quickly scooped you into his arms. You settled in his lap and gave him a kiss hello, an I missed you kiss, an I’m so happy to see you kiss. “Got a surprise for you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Yeah?” you asked, running your fingers through his dark hair. From over the side of the couch, he pulled out a copy of the newest Forbes magazine with a proud flourish. “Oh lord.”

“Page 71,” he directed, handing it over to you. And sure enough, there you two were, front and center, with every important member of your team, and family, behind you. There was something uncomfortable about seeing your own face on a glossy page, but the picture really was nice of the whole group. Logan radiated confidence and power, his arm securely around you in a way that said I wish you would try to fuck with us.

“It sure is…published,” you laughed.

“You look so fucking beautiful. I can’t wait to get this blown up and hang it in the lobby,” he mused, looking over your shoulder at the write up.

“For real?”

“I think it’s a great picture! It should be the first thing anyone sees when they come in the office, don’t you think?” Logan placed a tender kiss on your shoulder.

“I suppose.” You still weren’t entirely convinced, but it was also impossible for you to say no to Logan. You handed the open magazine back to him and let your head rest against his shoulder. “Read it to me?”

“Of course, princess,” he chuckled and raised the article into his line of sight, starting in on the story you knew and lived. Your eyes slipped shut as you let the sound of Logan’s voice and his heartbeat comfort you and lull you into a peaceful sleep.

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