#calling me a punk is the best compliment you could give me sir

[autistic-steveharrington]

Old man: So you’re just a punk eh?

Me: Yes fucking finally thank you bro!

#Sonny #Sonny speaks #getting recognition #🥳🥳 #punk #calling me a punk is the best compliment you could give me sir #lmao

[ficsandgiggles]

Belonging

Chapter Three - The First Morning 

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A lot more fluffier with this chapter, I’ve added Bucky and Nat to the series. Let me know who else you want to join! 💕

I woke up the next morning with a yelp, the unfamiliar surroundings bubbled up my anxiety real quickly. It was strange, I was warm, dry, and inside?

Soon, I remembered everything, including the moment Tony came at me like he was going to attack me. That was more enough for me to decide that I was not going to leave this room. It was comfy enough, I’ve lived in smaller places.

I got out of bed and explored the room a little more, my eyes cast upon a small box with an envelope which has my name on it. Curiously, I went over to see a brand new phone, my eyes widened, observing it closely for a few moments until I opened the letter.

‘Hey Y/N,

I spoke to Mr Stark and he agreed to get you a phone so we know you’re safe. The rest of us are hanging out in the lounge if you want to come join us, the other are eager to meet you. I’ve written my number down so if you don’t feel like coming down yet, text me and I’ll come up.

I hope you slept well!

Peter :)’

I couldn’t help but smile a little when I read the letter, immediately setting up the phone and adding Peter’s number into it. I decided to text him saying I wasn’t ready to meet everyone yet. Bless the kid, he’s really trying to make Stark sound like he doesn’t hate my guts.

A few moments later, there was a knock at my door.

“Hey, it’s Peter.” He called out, so I immediately opened the door and he looked relieved to see me, as if I was going to run away or something. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. I adored his hugs, because they’re so tight that it feels like my broken parts are being put back together.

“How was your night?” He asked once he pulled away, opening the curtains and giggling when I pretty much hissed at the sudden sunlight shining into the room.

“It was okay thanks, best nights sleep I had in a while...” I replied, letting my eyes adjust to the sudden brightness before cracking my knuckles and stretching. Peter nodded with a smile as he sat on the bed.

“I was just wondering... do you have... anything? Like clothes or just general personal belongings?” He asked. I looked down at my bundle of clothes on the floor, I had been in the same clothes for around a month now, it was all I had.

“Not counting those.” He added quickly as he saw my eyes gaze over my old clothes, so I shook my head, playing with the bottom of the shirt I borrowed from Peter. I also remembered I hadn’t showered from a while, I must be stinking the place out.

“Alright, plan for today then, you keep the clothes you’re wearing for today, have a shower, then I’ll take you shopping. I was thinking maybe Miss Romanoff could come with us, I think you two could really get on well together.” He suggested, smiling gently as he gave me a small bag of bathroom stuff.

I honestly didn’t understand why Peter was being so nice to me, especially after I was such a jerk to him back when I was at school. It was overwhelming, and I didn’t realise I was crying until Peter pulled me into yet another hug. “Hey, what’s the matter?” He asked gently.

“I just don’t understand... why are you being so kind to me after everything I put you through?” I asked quietly, nuzzling into Peter’s shoulder, just really needing to feel some love right now. I felt Peter give me a little squeeze before holding my chin up so I was looking at him.

“I knew you weren’t being mean just for the sake of it, I could tell there was something going on, so in a way I sort of took it, and hoped to find a way to help you release your anger better.” He explained as I broke down in tears again, I remembered how he tried to make conversation with me so many times and I just pushed him away. I was awful.

“But as I said, let’s put the past behind us and move on, yeah?” He said softly as he showed me to the bathroom after I calmed down. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.” He told me before heading downstairs.

The shower was incredible, I felt so clean for the first time in ages, I must have spent at least 45 minutes in there. Once I got dressed, I went down to see quite a peculiar sight.

There was this brown haired guy, who seemed to have a metal arm, pinning Peter down as he tickled the snot out of him. From what I can understand, Peter pulled some sort of prank on him and this man was now getting his own back.

“Squirty cream in the shoes, really Parker?! But who’s laughing now, huh?” He growled as he let go of Peter’s hands to drill into his ribs. I saw Peter’s legs fly everywhere as he broke into hysterical laughter, it was quite an adorable sight.

“Mr Bahahaharnes, I’m sorry! Mr Wihihihilson dared me!” Peter tried to explain through his giggles, but the so called Mr Barnes wasn’t having any of it, he just rolled his eyes and squeezed his sides rapidly.

“Yeah, and it’s his turn later. However, you accepted the dare, so you must suffer the consequences!” He growled, shaking his hand into Peter’s tummy, which seems to be a really good tickle spot on him as he curled up and screeched with laughter.

“FIHIHIHINE, MY FRIHIHIHIEND IS HEHEHERE!” Peter yelped as he shoved the guy away, running behind me and using me as a shield.

The new guy stood up, walking towards me but looking at Peter. “This is the new housemate, huh? Names Bucky Barnes, and you need to keep an eye on this little punk before he destroys your socks.” He warned, looking behind me to glare at Peter.

I bit my lip, nodding silently as I played with my hands, but my nervousness was soon killed by Peter scribbling under my arms, causing me to squeal and throw my hands down. “He’s joking, Y/N, he’s just a big softie.” Peter told me as he nodded at Bucky, not that I could see.

“Ah, ticklish one too?” Bucky grinned and gently but rapidly squeezed into my sides, leaving me trapped in a tickle sandwich. I broke into louder giggles, my nervousness leaving me as I squirmed between the two of them.

“Okahahahahay, quit it!” I laughed, covering my face as I fell back into Peter’s arms. He caught me, pinning my arms away for a second so Bucky could playfully shake his fingers into my ribs, causing me to kick out and laugh.

“I heard you needed a laugh, kid, so here’s my contribution.” He smiled before letting me go and shaking my hand. “Good to meet you, now I gotta go and bother Steve. I’ll see you around.” He said before giving Peter’s side one last squeeze and leaving the two of us.

I turned around to face Peter, who gave me an innocent smile. “You’ll get used to being tickled, it’s kind of a pick me up thing we have here.” He explained as he saw Tony watching them from a distance.

Surprisingly, Tony walked towards us, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You really can be a jerk to ol’ Barnes, kid.” He chuckled as he then looked at me, his face dropping a little. “I trust that you slept well?” He asked, the lack of expression on his face frightened me a little, but I nodded.

“Y-yes sir... thank you for your hospitality...” I whispered quietly, backing away from him a little as Peter put his hand on my shoulder, giving Tony a look.

“You’re welcome, but if I hear you bullying anyone here, you’re straight on out of here, do you understand?” He said sternly, my body shook nervously as I nodded silently in response.

When Tony left, I looked at Peter with a terrified look, he returned an apologetic look to me. “Sorry... he sometimes.. finds it hard to let go of the past, and he sees me as his son... he’ll come around to you, I promise.” He said gently, smiling as he saw someone come in. “Ah, here’s our shopping buddy!” He greeted.

I turned around to see a gorgeous, yet badass looking woman, there was no way I wanted to mess with her, she looked way too intimidating.

“Y/N, this is Miss Romanoff, don’t worry, she’s actually a real softie, she just pretends to seem cool.” He grinned cheekily as the woman smirked and pulled Peter beside her, skittering her nails all over his belly as she gave me a warm smile.

“You can call me Natasha, or Nat. It’s nice to have another kid to liven things up like this little shit does.” She smirked, casually tickling Peter and ignoring his helpless squeals and giggles.

“Hey Nat, it’s nice to meet you.” I replied with a shy smile, not really taking any notice of Peter’s squealing laughter.

“I’ve been looking forward to this as soon as Peter suggested it, I’ve been meaning to buy a new watch.” She said causally, showing me the watch. “Shatterproof my ass.”

The casual conversation instantly relaxed me, I gave a shy chuckle and nodded. “Shame, it’s a nice watch.” I complimented, looking at the watch as Nat smiled, shaking her fingers into Peter’s ribs, making him shriek with laughter.

“If I can replace the top bit, do you want it? I fancy a new one anyway.” She offered, and I looked at her with wide eyes. “Really?” I managed to squeak out shyly.

She nodded after letting Peter go, ruffling his hair. “Yeah! It’s yours after I sort it out.” She said, looking at Peter who was still recovering from her tickles. “So what are you waiting for? We’ve been ready for ages!” She giggled, winking at me to make me crack a smile.

Peter rolled his eyes as he began walking to the car, I began relaxing a little, I think this was going to be a great day.

#mcu tickle #mcu tickle fic #mcu tickle fic series #avengers tickle #avengers tickle fic #avengers tickle fic series #marvel tickle fic series #marvel tickle #marvel tickle fic #ticklish!reader #ticklish!peter #ler!nat #ler!bucky

[producingtrashycontent]

took me a bit to get my words strait, the idea is like the Black Bulls and Blue Roses have to do a joint mission or something, they each send Magna and Sol not knowing who the others were going to send. so sol and magna have to get along to get the mission finished. something happens and sol gets hurt, and magna has to help her. he asks why she hates him, she explains why she hates men, and he just talks some sence into her. not sure on the rest though.

OMG I FINALLY FINISHED! Damn this took me much longer than I thought, but here it is. I personally don't think it's my best writing, but I blame that on finals. I also made this longer than my usual requests. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover

     Magna took a hesitant glance around the common space. There was no one there, but Magna could never be too sure. That pudding thief was out to get him. This time, Magna would make sure he didn't lose his pudding to that jerk. With one more hesitant glance, Magna swiftly opened the pantry and snatched a pudding cup from one of the lower cabinets.

     The lightning bolt flew past Magna's head and struck the pantry. He'd been spotted. Magna dodged another lightning bolt that struck the place he'd been standing moments before. A nearby hallway appeared in Magna's peripheral vision. He bolted for the hallway, but he ran into someone before he could leave.

     "The hell? It was peaceful while I took my dump. Now I have to deal with this?"

     Magna dropped down to one knee immediately. "Captain Yami Sir!"

     "Better run Magna, or your clothes might catch fire!"

     Yami sighed before snapping his fingers and pointing to the ground in front of him. Luck appeared instantly and sat on the floor beside Magna.

     "Hey Captain! You finally going to fight me? How much do you want?"

     "Damnit Luck. I'm not going to fight you. I have a special mission."

     Magna nearly jumped. A secret mission! This would definitely get him stronger than Luck. Yami ignored Luck's bouncing and pointed at Magna.

     "You. I need you for this mission. It's going to be a joint mission with a member of the Blue Rose Knights. We can only have one or two people go, so I'll send you this time. It'd be too much trouble for both you and Luck to go."

     "Awww," Luck groaned. "But I want to go too!"

     Yami ignored Luck's plea and turned him full attention to Magna. "You leave here tomorrow. I need you to investigate some suspicious dealings going on near Rayaka Village. Since you lived there as a kid, I'd figured you were best fit for the job."

     "Thank you very much Yami Sir!" Magna stood and saluted. "I won't let you down!"

•~•~•~•

     Sol groaned as her squad mates all chatted about their boyfriends. What was the appeal with men anyway? They were all dirty, idiotic, and other things that Sol couldn't remember off the top of her head.

     "I went to the beach with my boyfriend a few months ago, and he was so ripped!"

     "Oh wow, really? I want a peek of that!"

     "No way! He's mine." The two girls chuckled between each other.

     Sol rolled her eyes as she poked at her dinner. It was very hard to eat when her squad mates would talk about men non-stop. Remembering the men who disappointed her, Sol scoffed and shoved some vegetables into her mouth. Her food didn't taste as good when she reminisced about her past.

     The chatter between the girls quickly died down. Sol automatically saluted when she spotted her captain out of the corner of her eye.

     "Big Sis!"

     Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Sol, I've told you before to call me 'Captain', not Big Sis."

     "Ok, Big Sis!"

     Ignoring Sol, Charlotte walked away, but she motioned for Sol to follow her. After some time, Charlotte finally stopped.

     "So, what do you need me for?"

     "I have a special mission for you."

     Sol smiled. "Me? Really?"

     Charlotte nodded. "I need you to investigate something near Rayaka Village. You will be working with a member of the Black Bulls. Get yourself ready. You leave early tomorrow morning."

     With a glimmer in her eye, Sol saluted her captain. "Yes!"

•~•~•~•

     Magna squatted on a rock that overlooked Rayaka from a cliff. The breeze blew gently around Magna as he stole another glance around the area. It seemed like the perfect day for a secret mission, and yet, his partner from the Blue Rose Knights hadn't arrived yet.

     "Damn, when are they gonna get here? It's almost noon. The sun's gonna roast me before they get here." Magna grumbled.

     "No way, funglasquent?"

     Magna whipped his head around at the sound of the voice from behind him. His eyes landed on a familiar, tall figure.

     "You? The giant girl from the Royal Knights Exam?"

     Sol groaned. "Unbelievable! Why did I get stuck with you?"

     "Same question to you, giant girl!" Magna sighed as he stole another glance at Rayaka. "Captain Yami gave me this mission because I lived in this town when I was young, so I can navigate around here better than my squad mates."

     Sol hesitated a moment. That was a valid reason for the short punk to come along on this mission. Charlotte didn't give her an explicit reason for coming. It must be because she was the one who was best suited for this mission.

     "Well, my captain believed I was the one best suited for the mission."

     "Even so, you gotta listen to me this time. I know this village like the back of my hand. If we want to catch those magic item smugglers, you have to follow my orders." Magna spoke dismissively as he turned his attention back to Rayaka. He usually wasn't as into missions as he was now. Any threat to Rayaka was a personal threat against Magna.

     "Who died and made you captain?" Sol spat. "I don't see why you have to lead the mission."

     "Ugh, don't you get it, giant girl? I lived here. I know all the best places to hide and store expensive things. I can catch those smugglers. Now, we have to cooperate to get this mission done."

     Sol pondered Magna's words for a moment. She did want to please Captain Charlotte and finish this mission, but she didn't want to listen to a man of all people. Listen to a man or finish the mission successfully. Those were Sol's two options. After a few moments, Sol settled on the best option: listening to the glasses punk.

     "F-fine." Sol spat. "I'll listen to you."

     "Finally!" Magna cheered. "See that Yami Sir? I'm following in your footsteps!"

     Not wanting to watch Magna cheer, Sol turned her eyes to Rayaka. She spotted a group of people flying on brooms a good distance away from the village.

     "Hey, funglasquent. There's a group of people approaching Rayaka from the east." Sol tapped her foot on the ground as Magna stopped his cheers to look in the direction Sol mentioned. Sure enough, there was a large group of people approaching. They stopped abruptly and descended into the forest below.

     "That's kinda sus..." Magna muttered.

     "Sus?" Sol echoed.

     Magna nodded. "Yeah, sus. Short for supilicious or something."

     "Ugh, you mean suspicious, don't you?"

     "Exactly."

     Sol had wanted to laugh, but that would mean admitting his joke was funny. He was serious, which made it funnier. Sol had a feeling he wasn't joking though.

     "Alright tall girl! Hop on my Crazy Cyclone and we'll get to those bandits in a jiffy." Magna leaned against his broom, which was modified to look like some weird contraption.

     Rolling her eyes, Sol made her way over to the Crazy Cyclone and sat on the back. "This thing is horrid, but at least it matches your punky vibe."

     "Aww thanks!" Magna smiled as he sat on the Cyclone before freezing. "Wait, that wasn't a compliment!"

     "Let's get a move on, funglasquent."

     Magna started up the Cyclone as he grumbled under his breath. Before they took off, Magna told her to hold onto him somewhere. Sol considered letting go and jumping off, but she reluctantly gave in and held on. She wanted to complete the mission Charlotte gave her. Nothing would stop her, not even a gross man.

•~•~•~•

     Eventually, Magna landed the Crazy Cyclone close to where the group landed. It was definitely dangerous for Sol and Magna to approach the large group by themselves, but they were the only ones who could.

     "Why did that guy disappear into a hole in the ground?" Magna pointed at a nearby tree with an odd-looking branch.

     "Did he?" Sol asked. She doubted that was possible, but thieves would do anything for money.

     Magna nodded. "Yeah. He pulled on that funky looking tree branch. I think we should follow him."

     "Whatever idea you have is dumb. We'll probably get killed going down there."

     Magna crossed his arms. "Well what's your plan, O Wise One?"

     Sol stared off to the side before shrugging her shoulders. Groaning, Magna turned his attention back to the tree. As he thought about what to do, an idea struck him like Luck shooting him with lightning.

     "Hey, tall girl."

     "Yeah?"

     Magna rubbed his hands together. "What if we wait here for them to come out!"

     Sol arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Magna kicked a nearby pebble. "Damn, that sounded way cooler in my head."

•~•~•~•

     After several hours of waiting, the sun was setting and Sol and Magna had done nothing. The suspects hadn't come out of their little hole in the ground. Sol was seriously considered heading home until she imagined how her captain would react. After a few more moments of thought, Sol decided to stay.

     "Ugh, I thought this was supposed to be a secret mission!" Magna grumbled from the ground. "I was ready to kick some ass!"

     "I'll kick your puny little man ass if you don't shut up."

     Magna sat up defiantly. "Damn, what's with you giant girl? What did I ever do to you?"

     Sol turned her face away. "You're a man. That's my problem with you."

     "So, you hate me for something I can't control?"

     Before Sol could retort, there was some rumbling nearby that shook the ground. Sol felt a body slam into her and knock her to the ground. Magna fell on top of her as a boulder rolled over the place she stood moments ago.

     "Funglasquent, you saved me." Sol muttered.

     Magna smirked. "Yep. That's what a real man does."

     Magna offered his hand to Sol, who slapped it away and stood on her own. A small pile of rocks fell from the small hill they camped beside to reveal an entrance to a cave. Sol jerked her head in the direction of the cave.

     "Hey, funglasquent. I think we should head there."

     Magna shook his head rapidly. "Umm, I don't know. That cave is kinda spooky. What if something tries to eat us?"

     Sol smirked. "I thought you were a "real man". Or are you a scared little whimp who can't complete a task even when life opens up a path for him?"

     Magna seemed to physically shake off his insecurities. "Y-yeah! I'm a real man! I'll lead the way."

     Sol allowed herself to chuckle at Magna's antics as he tried to overcome his nerves and step into the daunting cave.

•~•~•~•

      It was odd that they walked for so long without encountering anything. Eventually, the cave got dark enough to where Magna had to create a small flame to be able to see. Magna kept one hand against one side of the cave and Sol kept hers on the other. The cave grew colder the further they walked. There were a few times when Sol and Magna slipped on the smooth stone. The stone sloped gently downward, but as they walked further, the ground sloped more. Eventually, Sol and Magna felt the stone slope closer together until they found an opening in the stone.

     Voices floated in from the opening in the stone. Magna and Sol hid on either side of the opening. There was a group of people discussing different subjects while tossing around what appeared to be magic items between each other. Magna slipped into the cavern and ushered Sol to follow him. They eventually found a stack of boxes to hide behind and listened in on the conversation.

     "If we take this route, there will be fewer Magic Knights."

     "That route may have less Magic Knights, but the Magic Knights that are there are from the Crimson Lion Kings. They're too powerful. My route has more of them, but these guys are from the Aqua Deer. They're much weaker."

     "Either way, we have to get these tools across the Grand Magic Zone before the end of the month. The Lords and Lady await us."

     "Magic item smugglers," Sol whispered. "Should've known."

     Magna clenched his fist. "Damn those bastards."

     Magna missed the moment the smugglers fell silent, but he noticed the deafening silence a moment later.

     "Someone's here."

     "I sense some weak mana from over there!"

     Sol felt her heart leapt into her throat. Grabbing Magna's hand, she pulled him into a crouched position so they'd be ready to run at a moment's notice. Unfortunately, that position wouldn't help Sol avoid the box that got knocked into her head by a blast of magic. Sol didn't feel her body hit the ground, but that was probably due to the adrenaline in her system. She could sense Magna firing off some spells before he slung her over his back and ran. He turned several times to shoot spells at their assailants, but he spent most of his energy into running. Sol felt her limbs grow heavy to the point she couldn't move them anymore. A dull throb came from her head, but Sol was too tired to pay much attention to it. As Magna stopped shooting spells to break out into a sprint, Sol felt the darkness overtake her vision.

•~•~•~•

     Sol woke up to the sound of a crackling fire. Her front side was warm due to the fire, but her back was frozen. As she opened her eyes, she spotted Magna poking at a fire in a pit. When Magna spotted Sol moving, he gave her a small smile and wrapped a cloth around her.

     "Hey, you feeling ok? I know getting hit in the head by a metal crate is gonna mess with ya a bit, but I hope you're not too messed up."

     Sol squinted at Magna. Why was he being nice? In her life, men were never like this. They were all bark and no bite. But Magna was different. He seemed to represent men as they were portrayed in stories. He was very kind and chivalrous.  Sol's mouth didn't seem to catch up with her mind, because she gave Magna a nasty answer that she immediately regretted.

     "I'm fine. I could've done fine without you. All you men are worthless. I would recover better without you."

     Magna frowned, although this frown was more hurt than anger. "Well, damn. Sorry I tried helping you to make sure you didn't die. Unfortunately, I can't leave you until we finish our mission."

     Sol wanted to say something, but she was sure her mouth would betray her, so she said nothing. Magna tossed a fewn more sticks into the fire before sitting back.

     "Why do you hate men anyway? It's not as if we choose our genders before we're born, so it's not fair to hate us for something we can't control, ya know?"

     Sol wrapped the blanket closer to her. "I...I've never had a single positive experience with any man. When I was little, all the men in my village boasted about everything with nothing to back it up. The boys my age were the same. They treated me like a delicate flower that needed to be protected. When the time came for them to protect my village, they ran away like cowards. I stood my ground and fought, but the attackers overpowered me. Luckily, the Blue Rose Knights showed up in time and Captain Charlotte saved me. Ever since then, all the men I've met or worked with have been the same sad, disappointing losers."

     So that's why she's so loyal to her captain and her squad. I'd be the same way if I was in her shoes. "Well, that really sucks. I'm gonna be honest, I was kinda the same way for a portion of my youth, but a great old man whipped me into shape to become the man I am today."

     "Old man?" Sol echoed.

     Magna nodded. "Yeah. There's a neighboring village which I used to invade all the time. But each time, the chief of the village gave me a lesson I'd never forget. Unfortunately, I was a little punk that ignored the lessons and did the same stupid things over again. But I learned and grew into a better person."

     "You're not like that anymore..."

     Magna removed his sunglasses and glanced up to the sky. Sol was immediately drawn in to his eyes. "I get that you don't like guys like you described, but not all guys are like that. I could give you my squad as an example. My best bud Luck, why he's a battle freak that thinks about nothing else other than fighting. Gauche, he's just creepily obsessed with his sister. He's recently started to warm up to the rest of us. Gordon, he's real quiet and creepy, but he's a real sweet guy that wants the best for everyone. Captain Yami is a manly as they come. He doesn't care about how strong or weak you are, or who you are or where you came from. If you can grow stronger, you're cool in Yami's eyes. And little Asta, or as I like to call him, Rasta. He the manliest of all of us. He fights to protect people without a single thought about himself. I may call myself a man, but lil' Rasta's the real man here. What I'm trying to say is not all guys are bad. As the old saying goes, "Don't judge a book by its cover." Sure, there's always guys out there who are jackasses, but if you get to know us, you'll discover that we're not all that bad."

     Magna drew in a deep breath after his little speech. He was right. All Sol had done her whole life was judge men based on how she had experienced them throughout her earlier years. If she could get to know guys, maybe she might find one who's not so bad. Sol ended that train of thought as she glanced over at Magna. He's a short punk with glasses, but he's not so bad. I guess becoming friends with him isn't the worst thing in the world.

#black clover #magna swing #sol marron #magna x sol

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Precious (One-Shot)

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Choi San (Ateez)

Warnings: language, alcohol use, stripping? (lol is that a warning?)

Genre: Action AU; Spy AU

Word Count: 7K

Summary: Choi San is one of the best investigators in PD Kim Hongjoong’s agency, especially when it comes to the baddest mafia gangs. However, despite the inherent risk of his job, nothing could shock him more than the discovery that his wife might be cheating on him with another man!

A/N: This is actually based on a scene from the movie True Lies. Oh, and go hard San, like damn! 👇

San understood the inherent risk of chasing down mafia gangs who always tried their best to test his patience, especially when it involved saving their own ass. However, it made his job much easier when the ones he targeted would quickly betray their own men without any hesitation. For example, when San first brought the agency’s newest scumbag into the interrogation room, he sat him down underneath the low-hanging lamp with his hands tied behind the chair. And San fully expected to encounter another stubborn punk who insisted that he didn’t know anything about the drug cartel that San was investigating. Of course, that would be utter bullshit, but San was also pleasantly surprised to find a man who was balling his eyes out while begging San to spare his life.

“What if I don’t think you deserve to live?” San asked the man, toying with the knife that he held in his hand.

“Please!” the man cried. “I’ll tell you anything!”

“Yeah? Who do you work for?”

“Kim! From the downtown shipyard,” the man said, spilling his secrets as freely as the tears that were falling down his greasy mug.

“That so?” San asked, circling around the man who whimpered when he could no longer see him.

“I’m being cooperative, sir, just cut me some slack!”

San laughed. “What’s Kim doing these days?”

“I don’t know! He’s messing around with some gang downtown, but they aren’t expecting a new shipment until this weekend.”

“What kind of shipment?”

“Cocaine, marijuana, heroin...the usual shit!”

“Who’s he selling to?”

“It’s just a couple of local dealers. He wants them to buy strictly from his organization.”

“Really?” San asked, humming thoughtfully to himself. “What time?”

“Midnight on the East Dock! There’s a boat coming in with the product!”

San sighed because he was somewhat disappointed that the asshole was so compliant. It meant that he couldn’t play with him using his favorite set of knives. “I guess I’ll let the rest of my men deal with you.”

San immediately started for the door, smirking when he could hear the guy calling out to him: “What do you mean!? I told you everything!”

He closed the door quietly, turning to look at his partner Wooyoung who was waiting expectantly with a cheap cup of coffee in hand. “Well?”

“Check the tape,” San said. “He spilled everything.”

“Hell, yeah, dude,” Wooyoung cheered. “I can finally go home before fucking midnight.”

San’s shoulders dropped as he checked the time. “Damn, that means I’m late.”

“Late?”

“My wife was throwing me some kind of birthday party tonight,” San said, already dreading the idea of facing Y/N’s disappointment when he returned home.

“Hey, I’m sure Y/N will understand,” Wooyoung said. “This happens all the time, right?”

San glared at his friend because that comment certainly wasn’t helpful. “Because I have to stay at work all the time.”

“Dude, seriously? Everything’s fine,” Wooyoung continued. “Let’s go tell Hongjoong the good news and then you can go home and make love to your wife or whatever.”

San rolled his eyes, but quietly acquiesced, and he followed Wooyoung as he led them both into the main control room. He was already waiting for them by the time they arrived, and Kim Hongjoong, despite his smaller stature, was one of the most intimidating men that San had ever met. Not only was he in charge of their private detective agency, but he also regularly tracked down some of the most ruthless gang members with ruthless accuracy, leading investigations with a confidence that defined his character.

Hongjoong also spent most of his time at the agency when he wasn’t participating in field work, and San offered him a generous nod as Wooyoung collapsed into one of the leather chairs. “Well?” Hongjoong asked, looking at San with a stern expression.

“He told me everything,” San said, smirking at a video of Park Seonghwa who had just entered the interrogation room on the screen monitor. He could see their unfortunate suspect pleading with Seonghwa as he attempted to slide the chair into the farthest corner of the room.

“Good,” Hongjoong replied. “He didn’t seem very aggressive.”

“He cried like a little bitch,” Wooyoung said.

“Anyway,” San interrupted. “I’m going home, Hongjoong. My wife is waiting for me.”

“Ah, well give her my best,” Hongjoong said, but San couldn’t help but frown at the comment because it was Hongjoong’s fault that his wife thought he was an insurance agent since they were undercover. Of course, San was also responsible because he wanted to keep his wife safe from the mafia gangs that they dealt with on a regular basis.

In any case, San bowed respectfully, and left the two men behind as Wooyoung launched into another story about his most recent exploit involving a girl from a bar downtown.

The lights were off when San finally entered his house, humming to himself because he wasn’t sure if his wife had gone to sleep. After all, she had made the time for his dinner at 9:00 PM, and San was several hours overdue. He could only hope that she hadn’t put too much effort into preparations, but that sort of wishful thinking was quickly blown away when he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, baby,” San said, hesitating because he noticed that his wife had her arms crossed over her chest, sitting at the table where the remnants of San’s surprise birthday party were waiting in the form of a delectable cake and several neatly wrapped presents. “I’m sorry.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It was a long day.”

“That’s what you always say,” Y/N replied, and San knew that he was in trouble.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, but the words rang hollow in his own ears because San knew that there would be more nights like this in the future.

“I’m tired, San,” she replied, lowering her gaze to the floor. “We can talk about this later.”

San nodded, and his eyes followed his wife’s form as she trudged up the stairs with an absence of her usual exuberance. He groaned when he sat down at the table in her place, feeling his heart break at the beautiful decorations complimenting the natural elegance of their dining room. He knew that this couldn’t continue, and San needed to do something to convince Y/N that he still cared about her, even if that meant ignoring some of his work-related responsibilities.

Subsequently, the next morning San called the office and asked Wooyoung to handle his morning meetings. His friend protested at first, but San drove a hard bargain when he offered him free lunch for the remainder of the week. Wooyoung was suddenly much more accepting, and San was feeling excited about the suprise that he had planned for his wife. As such, he drove to Y/N’s office to surprise her for an impromptu date to the best restaurant in the city.

As he rode the elevator to the corresponding floor, San checked the time on his watch, smiling when he realized that he would catch Y/N right before she usually left for lunch. He also studied his appearance in the reflecting panels of the elevator, nodding once in reassurance when he stepped out into the hallway, enduring the endless maze of office cubicles to find Y/N’s desk. “Don’t blow this San,” he said to himself before walking in her direction.

He was almost there when he heard one of the assistants mention his wife’s name. “Y/N, your mystery man is on the line!”

San paused, faltering in his steps when he heard Y/N’s voice answer the phone call. “Hello? Mike?”

“Mike?” He whispered to himself, shuffling closer to overhear the remainder of the conversation.

“Today?” Y/N questioned. “Of course, I can meet you for lunch.” San swallowed hard, trying not to jump to conclusions. “I’d love that!” Y/N giggled. “I’ll see you then.”

San quickly darted into one of the empty cubicles, holding his breath when Y/N passed him on the way out of the office. His shoulders instantly deflated, and he could feel a bitter rage churning inside his stomach. “What the hell?” he cursed, reaching for his phone to call Wooyoung because he was nothing short of pissed off and nobody was safe from his wrath.

San watched from a distance as Wooyoung pulled up to the sidewalk, rolling down the window to greet San as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Hey, man,” Wooyoung said. “Welcome to the club. The same thing happened to me with wife number two, remember? She was a real piece of work.”

“But this is Y/N,” San argued, still shaken from the phone call. “She wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Hard to argue with the evidence,” Wooyoung said, shrugging like he wasn’t at all concerned. “Look, divorces are common these days. I’ll even let you crash on my couch.”

“It’s not going to happen,” San insisted. “There has to be something else.”

“What did you expect, San?” Wooyoung asked him. “You’re never there anymore.”

The brutal truth hit San like a freight train, and he fumbled with his seat-belt while holding out his cellphone. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not giving up on our marriage,” San said. “I’m fixing this before it gets any worse.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “San, I don’t like that look on your face.”

“Relax,” San hissed, holding up the phone to his ear. He was pleased when one of the agency’s interns answered from the other end. “I’m coming back to the agency. I need someone to help me tap some phone lines.” 

“What!” Wooyoung screeched, but San ignored him as he shot off a series of orders to the poor intern who probably had no idea why San was so angry.

“Do it now!” San growled, assaulting the end phone call button before glaring out the windshield.

“San, are you fucking insane?” Wooyoung gasped. “This is a blatant misappropriation of funds! If Hongjoong finds out...”

“He won’t,” San interrupted. “Besides, I’m not doing anything that could hurt the agency.”

“But you’re talking about spying on your wife!”

“It’s not spying.”

“What the hell is your definition of spying, San?”

“Look, I’m just trying to keep this under control,” San retorted. “I would think that my friend might support me.”

“I do support you, San, but this is taking things too far!”

“Just drive back to the agency,” San growled. “I’m tired of arguing.”

San was pleased when several interns greeted him at the main office of their agency’s building. “Mr. Choi, we have the phone wires tapped at the work location and home address that you gave us.”

“Good,” San said, ignoring the way that Wooyoung was trying to get his attention while they entered the recording room.

“San!” Wooyoung pouted, hurrying to match his friend’s pace. “This is insane!”

“Get me some tracking equipment,” San added, throwing the command to the intern who nodded.

“Tracking!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “You’re gonna follow her?”

“Also, make sure that Hongjoong doesn’t find out,” San said, and Wooyoung waved his hands wildly through the air.

“Earth to San! Doesn’t it seem suspicious when you can’t tell Hongjoong about this?”

“He’ll make a big deal out of nothing,” San replied, checking the monitors that were supposed to record his wife’s future phone conversations.

“Nothing? Does this qualify as anything less than treason!”

San turned to look at his frazzled friend, holding his hands behind his back. “I’ve got everything under control, okay? And I need you to bring the van to my house tonight. I can sneak out Y/N’s purse and we can stitch in the GPS.”

Wooyoung sighed. “Anything else, your majesty?”

“Less attitude would be nice,” San told him cheekily, leaving Wooyoung to fume quietly to himself. In the meantime, San had one of the interns help him load some equipment into his car, ignoring the curious looks that he received from the other agents. Because whenever they attempted to inquire about the equipment, San would lie and tell them that he was doing some reconnaissance work from home.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth.

Later that night, San made sure that he was home early, surprising Y/N when he walked inside to offer her a gentle kiss in greeting. “San!” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re home?”

“Is that a problem?” San questioned.

“N-no,” Y/N stuttered. “But I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“Hmmm...” San grinned. “I’ll be upstairs in the shower. Unless you want to join me?”

Y/N gasped, and her cheeks filled with an adorable blush. “Dinner...”

“It’s alright,” San said. “We can always mess around later.”

Y/N managed a nod which was nothing short of endearing, and San was even more convinced that he needed to keep a closer eye on his wife.

Thereafter, once he finished helping Y/N clean their dishes, they both returned to the bedroom upstairs. San immediately fell across the bed, enjoying the way that his mattress felt against his back after so many long hours at work. He also studied Y/N from the corner of his eye, formulating his next plan of action.

“I thought that we could have lunch tomorrow,” San said, and Y/N paused in front of the mirror.

“Oh,” she said. “I wish I had known sooner, babe, I’ve already made plans with some of my friends.”

“Really?” San asked, keeping a close eye on Y/N when he reached over onto the nightstand to grab her purse. “That sounds like fun.”

“It’s been a while,” she responded, covering her face with a delicate mask that gave San the perfect opportunity to quietly retreat into the bathroom. He immediately found the window above the sink, opening it just enough to toss out Y/N’s purse to an awaiting Wooyoung who was completely drenched from the rain.

“Yeah, thanks,” Wooyoung retorted, and San paused until he was around the corner of the house before returning to the bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” San said, but Y/N was still distracted by the mess that she had made of her face mask. San chuckled to himself, hustling down the stairs to fling open the front door.

Thankfully, the agency’s van was parked in the driveway, and San waited by the door for Wooyoung who shakily offered him the purse. “You know, there’s still an opportunity for us to give up on this ridiculous plan.”

However, San’s silencing glare spoke louder than words. “What?”

“I mean, the GPS is at the bottom!” Wooyoung replied, flinching when San slammed the door in his face. 

In the meantime, San had re-entered the house with Y/N’s purse tucked under his coat, bringing it upstairs and returning it to its previous place on the nightstand. “Are you tried?” he asked Y/N, laying back down on the bed as he watched her.

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you have to be up early?”

“Not really,” San said, holding his breath as Y/N finally joined him on the bed. He carefully turned over on his side, dragging Y/N closer with one arm wrapped around her delicate waist. “You know,” he hesitated, “I feel really bad about coming home late.”

Y/N stiffened against his embrace. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s okay,” San said. “I should work on that. You deserve better.”

Y/N gave no acknowledgment of his comment. Instead, she muttered something about feeling exhausted because of work, and San simply nodded his head in response. “I love you, Y/N.”

However, Y/N didn’t offer anything in return, and San could feel his heart sinking low inside his chest.

When San arrived to work the next morning, he decided to finally address the mounting pile of paperwork on his desk. It was mostly just an excuse to remain in the office because one of the interns, who he had assigned to watch over the phone lines, might come to him with developing information concerning Y/N. Thus, San was certain that he needed to remain on standby since he might receive an update at any moment.

Eventually, the work was starting to become tedious, and he glared at the clock when lunchtime rolled around, wondering if his wife was going on some kind of lunch date with her “mystery” man. But to San, he wasn’t much of a mystery, just some bastard who thought that he could try and seduce his wife. Which, of course, made him San’s rival, and there was nothing that he wanted more than to confront this man and beat the shit out of him.

His violent thoughts made San feel restless inside his office, and he decided to visit the interrogation office where the interns had been stationed. However, during his brief walk down the hallway, he thought about Y/N and her dismissive attitude towards him from the previous evening. Was his wife really no longer interested in him? Would San have enough guts to give her a divorce if she asked for it?

He shivered at the scenario, but the unexpected sight of Wooyoung talking with his interns provided a good distraction. “What’s going on?” San demanded when he walked into the room, and Wooyoung immediately hid something behind his back. 

“San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You’re holding something,” San said.

“No...”

San rolled his eyes, cornering Wooyoung against the wall before reaching behind him to snatch away the transcript that his interns had likely created for him. Ignoring Wooyoung’s complaints, San started reading over the words, frowning when he realized that it was a conversation between his wife and Mike. “They’re meeting for lunch,” San said. “I know this restaurant.”

“Oh?”

San turned to address his interns. “Anything else?”

“No, sir,” one of them responded, and San reached behind him for the collar of Wooyoung’s well-pressed shirt.

“You’re coming with me,” San said.

“Where?” Wooyoung asked, and San held up the transcript that his friend immediately objected. “That’s really taking this too far, San!”

“Are you on my side or not?”

Wooyoung hesitated, appearing entirely conflicted, so San made his decision for him. He snatched Wooyoung’s familiar car keys from one of the desks, and Wooyoung only had a brief moment of realization before he was rushing to catch-up to San on the way out the front door. Unfortunately, San was beyond reason, ignoring Wooyoung’s attempts at rational conversation by opening the driver’s side door. “Take us there,” San requested, tossing his keys into the air before making himself comfortable on the opposite side.

Wooyoung was grumbling when he switched on the ignition. “This is really low, San.”

“You’re supposed to be my friend and partner.”

“I am!” Wooyoung said, slowly guiding them out into traffic. “Which is why I’m the most qualified to give you relationship advice, and I think that spying on your wife is a hard pass.”

“Says the same guy who’s already been divorced twice!”

“Yeah, and that means I know when you’re doing something wrong,” Wooyoung said. “And that we're doing right now? Wrong!”

“Just drive,” San insisted, and Wooyoung must’ve realized that his friend was stoically determined to follow through with his plan because he started quietly driving the rest of the way to the restaurant. “Pull in at the front,” San instructed him.

Wooyoung turned off the ignition, sighing as he leaned back in his seat. “There’s Y/N’s car.”

“Turn on the audio,” San said. “You put the microphone in her purse, right?”

“I stitched it myself,” Wooyung confirmed, reaching down to twist the knob on the machine attached to the radio.

There was mostly static until two distinct voices filled the rest of the car. “Hey, I’m so glad to see you,” a male voice said, and San assumed that it belonged to this Mike character.

“Of course,” Y/N responded timidly. “What did you need?”

“It’s important,” Mile said. “I think they’re coming for me tonight.”

“Tonight?” Y/N gasped, and San and Wooyoung exchanged a quick look.

“You’ll be there for me, right?” Mike asked, and San wrinkled his nose at the disgusting tone. “I have something to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t tell you until it’s safer,” Mike said. “Come home with me, tonight. We can talk in a place where they can’t follow us.”

“Damn, this guy moves fast!” Wooyoung laughed, but he immediately stopped when he noticed San’s fierce expression. “Oh, shit, I mean, that sleazy scumbag! Who does he think he is?”

“Just shut up,” San said, leaning in closer to the radio because Y/N was talking again.

“I have work until 5,” Y/N said.

“I’ll pick you up outside the office,” Mike replied, and there was a sound that reminded San suspiciously of the noise that he associated with Y/N’s delicate kisses.

“I’m beating the shit out of this bastard,” San declared, and Wooyoung shivered at his dangerous tone.

“Are we following them later?”

“Absolutely,” San agreed, reaching over to grab the GPS tracker. “I’m putting an end to this bullshit!”

Wooyoung simply nodded because he knew that San was past the point of talking him back from over the edge.

However, San was usually the type who could control his temper. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he had experienced what some might call “blind rage,” but he came pretty close when he watched his wife get in a stranger’s car without any hesitation. Consequently, San was forced to take several deep breaths to clear the red clouding his vision, waiting until he was mostly clear-headed again to open his eyes. Thankfully, Wooyoung was already following Y/N and Mike, maintaining a safe distance so that they wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Keep on that car until they stop,” San instructed his friend, gripping tightly to the dash while they continued to follow Y/N and Mike through the relatively empty streets.

After twenty minutes of tense driving, they finally pulled into a modest apartment complex where Mike pulled in the driveway of one of the units. “He lives there?” Wooyoung asked, driving past their car.

“Turn back around at the end of the road,” San said while pulling out his cellphone. “I’m calling for back-up.”

“Back-up?!” Wooyoung repeated, but it was too late to change San’s mind and he was already ordering most of Hongjoon’s agents off the street to arrive at the complex.

“This is insane!” Wooyoung loudly whispered, stopping his car at the sidewalk near Mike’s apartment just in time to see Y/N walking inside with the other man.

San reached behind him for the gun that he kept on the backseat. “You aren’t shooting him, are you?” Wooyoung asked, but San’s response was nothing but a crooked smirk as he re-loaded the weapon.

Much to Wooyoung’s horror, the other agents were also fast to arrive on the scene, and San greeted Yunho and Mingi who had been dealing with a drug bust downtown. “What do we got?” Mingi asked when he recognized San.

“Some kind of undercover exchange,” San lied. “Clear out the back of the van for me.”

“Do we have any details?”

“Two people,” San explained. “One man and a woman. The dude is complete trash and you can leave him to me, but the woman is innocent, so just try and get her out safely.”

“Yes, sir,” Yunho said, teasing San with the directive. 

“Get your agents ready,” San replied because he wasn’t in any mood to joke around.

Graciously, Yunho and Mingi immediately complied, shouting orders into their walkie-talkies while several agents emerged from around the house, completely dressed from head to tie in their uniforms. Actually, the entire complex was surrounded by Hongjoong’s agents with their sleek black cars, and various cases of equipment and weapons ready for their disposal. “Are you ready?” San asked Wooyoung, covering his face with a mask to disguise his identity.

Wooyoung did the same with a grunt. “I’m sure Y/N will never forget this night.”

San ignored him, checking the safety on his gun, before he stationed himself next to the front door of the apartment. He gave a signal to the agent across from him who nodded once, taking a step back to kick down the door with force, and chaos quickly unraveled as the small apartment was filled with dozens of armed men shouting and aiming their guns in the direction of the two people situated rather scandalously on the couch. 

San recognized Y/N’s screams, eyes widening when he noticed that Mike had somehow made himself rather comfortable in close proximity to his wife. San grabbed the sleazy bastard who was still between his wife’s thighs, jerking him back by the collar of his shirt. “You piece of shit,” San grunted, tossing the man onto the ground to cuff his hands.

“What’s happening!” Mike cried, struggling against San’s grip. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, right, asshole,” San muttered, forcing Mike to stand on his own two feet again before searching for Wooyoung. “Get Y/N.”

Wooyoung nodded, approaching Y/N carefully because her eyes were filled with fear and she was looking around at all the action unfolding. “Let’s go, Ma’am,” Wooyoung said with a wince, trying his best to disguise his regular voice because Y/N might recognize him.

“Who are you?” Y/N demanded, but Wooyoung didn’t try to explain, reaching for her arm.

Y/N shrieked and fought against Wooyoung’s hold, even as Wooyoung maintained his grip. “Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t be like this.”

“You asshole!” Y/N screamed, turning around to knee Wooyoung between the legs and the younger man immediately collapsed to the ground.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung cried. “That fucking hurt!”

His loud curse attracted San’s attention, and he brought Mike to another agent with strict directions to throw him in the back of the van. Meanwhile, he ran after Y/N who was flailing her arms while tripping in her high heels. “Damn,” San gasped, fighting for air when he finally caught up to Y/N. 

“Who are you people?!” Y/N shrieked, kicking out her legs when San wrapped an arm around her upper torso. He certainly hadn’t expected his wife to fight them so much, especially when she leaned down to bite him. However, he only groaned in complaint and fought against the pain while he managed to drag Y/N back to another agent’s car. 

“Take her to the agency,” San instructed one of the other men. “In the interrogation room.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent said, and San waited until he was driving off before he confronted Wooyoung who was still hunched over on his knees. 

“Come on,” San said, tapping his foot against him.

“You try getting kicked in the dick,” Wooyoung spat, using San’s suspenders to help himself back up. “God, you stupid prick,” Wooyung howled, still feeling the effects of Y/N’s kick while he flipped off Mingi and Yunho who were laughing at his expense.

“Job well done, gentlemen,” Yunho said, flashing San a quick thumbs-up as he settled himself behind the wheel of the van.

“Ignore him,” San told a still seething Wooyoung before they drove off in the direction of Hongjoong’s agency.

The interrogation room was incredibly high-tech with an indestructible Plexiglas wall separating the room itself from the attached studio which was filled with expensive equipment. Wooyoung and San sat together in the studio, watching Y/N as she stormed around the room, screaming and yelling while demanding to be heard. “She’s something else,” Wooyoung remarked.

“Do we still have the voice changing microphone?” San asked.

“Of course,” Wooyoung said, reaching behind him for the appropriate instrument. “Let me get it ready.”

San nodded, thoughtfully considering Y/N who had passionately refused to sit down even after facing stern directions from one of the interns. She had always been passionate, refusing to give in to others, and it was a big part of the reason why San had fallen in love with her in the first place. It was also impossible to describe Y/N’s beauty because, even after such a long and chaotic evening, she still managed to look good in nothing but casual jeans and a simple blouse.

“Good evening, Mrs. Choi,” Wooyoung spoke into the mic, and his voice echoed inside the interrogation room. “We’d like to ask you some questions. It’s in your best interest to cooperate.”

However, Y/N appeared less than compliant, and she furiously slammed her hands against the glass. “Who are you! What do you want from me?”

“Calm down, Mrs. Choi,” Wooyoung said, flinching when San abruptly took the microphone from him.

“We found you with an incredibly dangerous man, Mrs. Choi,” San said. “Can you tell us how the two of you met?”

“Dangerous?” Y/N repeated, looking nothing short of confused. “Mike?”

“How do you know him?”

“We met when I was having lunch alone one day,” Y/N said. “He came up to me with a briefcase and said that he was being followed by some suspicious agents.”

“Why?”

“He works undercover,” Y/N explained. “His work seemed really important.”

“So important that you decided to help him?” San asked.

“Well,” Y/N hesitated. “He said he needed me.”

“Needed you in what way, Mrs. Choi?” Wooyoung took over, much to San’s displeasure.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you insinuating?”

“Is it because your husband isn’t pleasing you anymore, Mrs. Choi?” Wooyoung asked, whining when San grabbed the microphone from him.

“Let me handle this,” San said, before turning his attention back to Y/N. “Why did you keep meeting him, even though you barely knew who he was?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, throwing out her hands desperately. “I guess it’s stupid, but I kinda liked that he was involved with something top secret. It seemed really special for me to be a part of it.”

“Special enough for you to cheat on your husband?” San practically spat into the microphone.

“Wait a minute! How do you know that I’m married?”

“We know everything, Mrs. Choi,” San said, quickly trying to make-up for his slip. “Did you sleep with him?”

“I hardly see how that’s any of our business!”

“Answer the question,” San insisted. “Your compliance with us could help your case.”

“My case?”

“Of course,” San said. “You were found with a wanted man. That makes you an accomplice.”

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Isn’t that a little too much?”

San shook his head, determined to get to the bottom of things. “No, I didn’t,” Y/N finally said. “Satisfied?”

“Were you attracted to him?”

“No!” Y/N cried. “What do these questions have to do with anything?”

“I just have one more thing for you, Mrs. Choi,” San said, taking a deep breath as he braced himself for the answer. “Do you still love your husband?”

Y/N sighed, looking around the steel-gray walls of the room. “Yes,” she said. “I still love him.”

“Terrific!” Wooyoung whispered. “She still loves you! Everything's fine.”

However, San still had one more thing in mind. “You want some adventure in your life, Mrs. Choi,” San said carefully. “That’s good because we might have a solution to our problem concerning your association with Mike. Otherwise, we’ll have to turn you into the authorities.”

“Well!” Y/N exclaimed. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Wooyoung covered the microphone, looking at San with suspicious eyes. “What the hell are you planning?”

San smirked at Wooyoung. “If she wants some excitement, then I’m going to give it to her.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but remained silent. “Mrs. Choi,” San said. “How do you feel about doing some undercover work for us?”

After ensuring that one of the agency’s interns could safely return Y/N home, Wooyoung and San drove quietly to the edge of town to deal with Mike. They pulled the van off the road next to a large overpass, dragging him out screaming and crying from the back. But despite his attempts to break free, San held him perilously at the edge of an enormous dam. “Please,” Mike cried. “Don’t kill me.”

San rolled his eyes, even though Mike probably couldn’t tell from behind his mask. “Did you really think you could get away with it?”

“What are you talking about?” Mike questioned. “You’ve got the wrong guy!”

“It’s all over,” Wooyoung said. “Your career as a spy is well-documented.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No, seriously, I’m just a car salesman,” Mike cried. “I’ve never done anything wrong!”

“Why did we find you with that young woman?” San asked. “We overheard you telling her all about your secret as a spy!”

“It’s only because I have to lie to get laid,” Mike said. “I made the whole thing up because I was trying to impress her!”

“A married woman?” San asked.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said, and there were actual tears streaming down his face. “I’m the biggest coward in the world!”

“Get the fuck out of here,” San grunted, jerking Mike’s hands free from his shirt.

“As soon as I’m not looking I know that you’re gonna shoot me!” Mike declared, walking backwards as he looked back and forth between San and Wooyoung.

San pushed him out of the way, reaching for the driver’s side door of the van. Meanwhile, Wooyoung turned around to confront the frazzled man. He reached for his gun, firing off a few rounds into the air while Mile immediately covered his head. “Fuck off, dude.’”

One Week Later

The hotel made for the perfect cover, and an ideal situation to carry out San’s plan for his wife, even if Wooyoung was less than enthusiastic. He was currently helping San arrange the room to his liking, moving one of the chairs into the shadows of the curtains. His partner also handed San a tape recorder, and San smiled at him gratefully. “Look,” Wooyoung said. “I had one of the interns record some shit. Just play the phrases whenever you need to talk to her.”

It was a good way to disguise his voice, and sitting in the corner would help keep his identity protected. “Did you arrange everything with her?” San asked.

“We had an agent call the house earlier with instructions,” Wooyoung said. “We told her that she was meeting a man who’d be expecting an exotic dancer. She’s supposed to tell you that the regular girl is sick.”

“What did you ask her to do?”

“We dropped off an envelope by her office,” Wooyoung explained. “Her job is to plant the bug on the nightstand without you noticing.”

San chuckled. “And who does she think I am exactly?”

“A very wealthy man,” Wooyoung said, reaching for his phone when it started ringing. He answered in quietly, stepping off to the side of the room while San finished arranging a bouquet of roses next to the little side table where he would be sitting for most of the night. Despite the fact that this whole night had been his idea, he was still nervous about how his wife would handle everything, and there was inherent risk of exposing his identity that he was trying to ignore.

“She’s on her way up,” Wooyoung announced.

“Then, you should go,” San said, ushering Wooyoung towards the door, even while his partner flipped off the light switches as he passed them.

“I’ll be in the lobby in case something goes horribly wrong,” Wooyoung said. “Since it might considering how insane this entire plan is!”

“Relax,” San said, giving him a friendly pat on the ass. “I have everything under control.”

Wooyoung still appeared doubtful, but he gave his friend the benefit of the doubt, and San made sure that the door was closed and unlocked before he settled himself on the chair that he placed in the corner of the room. He sat down with a nervous exhale, wondering if he should cross his legs or not, and he held the tape recorder behind him. There was no turning back from the plan, and San anxiously anticipated Y/N’s arrival, finally deciding to leave his legs spread out in front of him.

It was only a few minutes later that he heard the sound of the front door opening, waiting with a pounding heart as Y/N entered the room. San swallowed hard when Y/N approached, wearing one of the sexiest dresses that he had ever seen in his entire life. His eyes trailed down the skin of her exposed legs, moving back up again to pause on the tight fit around her breasts. He cleared his throat and reached behind him for the tape recorder. “What’s your name?” 

San jumped when he noticed that the recording's voice was much deeper than his, and it was also slightly accented.

“Y/N,” she whispered, and her tone certainly didn’t match the intimidating outfit that she wore. “The regular girl was sick, but she thought you would like me.”

“Let me determine that for myself.”

Y/N nodded, reaching behind her for the zipper, but San quickly rewound the tape. “No, do it slowly for me.”

She was hesitant, but San sat up straighter when she turned around to undo the zipper on the back of the dress, allowing it to fall onto the floor. San cleared his throat, taking in the sight of Y/N wearing a black set of lingerie, and the panties barely covered her ass when she made a complete circle to look at San again for directions. “Dance for me,” the recording instructed. “I want to see how sexy you are.”

Y/N paused while San reached out to turn on the radio, adjusting the volume for the heavy bass song that began to play throughout the room. San waited, taking in a deep breath when her hips started to move, and it was awkward at first, until she finally found the beat, dragging her hands over her gorgeous body. San watched as her hands traveled over her breasts, moving them down sensuously to tease the waistband of her underwear.

At this point, San’s heart was practically leaping into his throat, and the music sounded unbelievably loud inside his ears. Y/N was clearly distracted by her own dancing, closing her eyes as she continued to hypnotize San with the tantalizing way that she undulated her hips. San groaned at the display because he was uncomfortably hard in his black trousers, reaching down to adjust himself as he watched Y/N grind herself against the bed post.

She dropped lower to the ground, pushing her ass out in San’s direction, and every bit of blood in his body had moved south to fill his cock. It took everything that he had not to launch himself at his wife who was using the post as support to sway her body from side to side. San closed his eyes, leaning over to turn down the radio so that Y/N could hear the tape recorder again.

“Lie on the bed and close your eyes.”

Y/N stumbled in her heels at the unexpected order, but she still obeyed, gently lowering herself vertically across the hotel’s king-sized bed. In the meantime, San took a flower from the vase next to him, walking over to Y/N to drag the velvety petals against her smooth skin. He was unable to help himself when he joined her on the edge of the bed, leaning down to claim Y/N’s irresistible red-glossed lips.  

He moaned against her mouth, resisting the urge to climb his fingers along her beautiful skin that was practically glowing from the light penetrating through the curtains. It had been a long time since he had kissed his wife so passionately, and he was determined to make her feel good tonight. Of course, distracted by the moment’s pleasures, San failed to realize that Y/N had grabbed the alarm clock from the corner of the nightstand until she was hitting him over the head with the offending object. “Pervert!” she shouted, immediately rising from the bed. San grunted as he collapsed to the floor, feeling the dizzying effects of the hit that he had just taken courtesy of his wife’s powerful aim.

However, he quickly came to realize that Y/N was trying to put on her dress while limping haphazardly for the exit. “Y/N,” San shouted, and his wife paused. “It’s me!” He removed the mask and held up his hands, watching Y/N’s eyes grow wide with shock.

“San?” she gasped, and her entire body was suddenly shaking.

“Yes, it’s me,” San whispered, hoping to calm her down.

“H-How?” she asked, clutching the dress tightly to her chest.

“I’m not an insurance agent,” San said, carefully approaching his wife like she might flee at any moment. “I work for a private detective’s office downtown, but I had to lie because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“What?” Y/N questioned, pulling at the strands of her hair as if she couldn’t process anything that he was saying. “None of this makes sense!”

“It was me that night with Mike or whoever,” San revealed. “I interrogated you in that room, and I had some of the agents organize this night for us!”

“San, you sound insane right now!” Y/N said.

“I know,” San agreed, trying to reach out for Y/N, but she quickly took another step back. “I’m so sorry for everything, baby. I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of the stuff that I did at work, so I made up a cover to protect you!”

“You?” Y/N repeated, and San wasn’t sure if it was a question or just his wife’s attempt to make sense of everything. “Y-you're being honest? This was your idea?”

San nodded. “Look, I have a badge and everything,” he said, reaching into his pocket to extract his wallet, holding it out for Y/N who took it with narrowed eyes. “I’ve been working at the agency for years. That’s I’m always home so late because my cases sometimes are more difficult than others.”

Y/N had taken out his badge, studying it with an expression that he had never seen from his wife before. Finally, she dropped the wallet and badge onto the floor, inhaling once as she addressed him. “I can’t believe you’ve lied to me.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” San said, desperately trying to make amends. “I know it was wrong to keep this from you, but I thought it would help you.”

“Help me?” Y/N spat. “Really, San? Because I love thinking that my husband is an insurance agent who spends all night at his office, but it turns out that he’s secretly keeping another identity from me since he could actually die!”

“I’m hardly ever in danger,” San said, but he realized that Y/N wasn’t quite as accepting. 

“And what’s this dancing thing all about?” she asked. “You literally tricked me into coming here so you could watch me dry hump the bed?”

“That’s not it, Y/N,” San said. “I- I heard what you said in the interrogation room. You said that you wanted to do something special.”

“But not after my husband lied to me!” Y/N said, meeting San across the room to sharply push against his shoulders. “Is our marriage a cover too?”

“Of course not,” San said, shaking his head. “Y/N, I love you more than anything else in the world.”

“If you loved me, then we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Y/N said. “I feel humiliated!”

“I’m sorry,” San tried again. “This is all my fault, and you can hate me for the rest of your life, but I never wanted to hurt you. Because I’ve loved you long before I became an agent, and I just want you to know that I care about your happiness, even if sometimes seems like I’m the world’s biggest asshole.”

Y/N sniffled, studying San for several long moments. “I believe that you love me,” she finally said. “And I still love you too, but we’re gonna talk about this! Do you hear me?”

“Of course,” San agreed.

“Especially about this disaster,” she continued. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Well,” San said, searching for the correct words. “You look really hot...”

“Shit! I’m still fucking mad at you!” Y/N said, but there was also a carnal energy in her eyes that had San hesitating. “I swear to God I’ll make you pay for this!”

“Is that a promise?” San asked, and Y/N didn’t hesitate to throw her weight against him in a furious kiss as they both landed on top of the luxury bed.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez san #choi san #ateez san fanfic #san fanfic #choi san oneshot #san oneshot #ateez san au

[lesbianbernardsumner]

Hey! Its thing >:)!

Its the thing i was teasing at in that post last night, and technically for like... four months? five? huh its been a bit since i second changed my url huh. Im not gonna go check or anything. If I were a bit more patient i wouldve waited for the archive collection become canon but im not. funfacterdroid is just more of my bran! Anyway! This post is my first impressions and opinions on each song on Back to the Egg! The Wings album i temporarily renamed myself after. (told ya i was gonna ramble wasnt i ydbfyufjd). It also happens to be the only wings album i havent listened to yet. And sure theres a bunch of singles and b-sides i havent listened to either, but this is the last one! I figured it should get some of its own treatment! I know that its gonna sound different to London Town and the two before it, cause McCulloch and English arent here. I’ve also heard that this album is bad and people called Paul a sellout because he transitioned to New Wave. New Wave is my favorite genre and I guess Wings werent ever that far from it? But they’re still a rock band at heart so i dont know how that change is going to fare. Enough introduction: Lets just go track by track! -Side One: Sunny Side Up-

Reception: Its just some radio garble, an instrumental meant to introduce the album. dont really have any opinions on it. Getting Closer: JAHBUDHSAUHJDHS WOAH WOAH WOAH!!! I didnt expect such a threatening title to be so upbeat. Like... opposite of Beware My Love. I do think its odd that there is barely any backup singing? Its not horrible just weird that this song, out of all the openers, doesnt. That outro is very much meant to be like a darker part of the song, like the dream sequence from A Day In The Life, but god dammit this song is just so upbeat! so weirdly cheerful and gentle! And... only 3 minutes? Rockshow and Jet were 4... eh those albums had a lot less songs, this one has 13 not counting Reception! Same as London Town, which i also really like! We’re Open Tonight: Oooohhh!! Very soft, I think I know what its about but when taken literally, to me it sounds like a quaint little shop trying to lure you in, sinisterly. I think the bass is making it sound evil to me, but thats a great thing! Clearly its trying to be like another I’m Carrying but that song fucking sucks!!!!!! I also really like how its only 1 minute, something so haunting about it. Not sure if thats positive or negative but the songs cool! Spin It On: hHEHEYEHY!! Getting Closer.... 2! kinda. Its much much faster and i can barely understand the words hes saying... or what hes spinning. The backing vocals are really cool though. the lyrics mention a pinball table? Y.. you know pinball doesn't spin right? it falls.... Questionable lyrics aside, theres really not a lot of SPEEDY Wings songs! Glad that one of the few is also extremely good!

Again and Again and Again: WOW OKAY! this is sung by denny, all of these songs start pretty fast unlike a good chunk of their past work, but i really like that! But it also means i cannot process a single thing denny is saying, i think he said something about a school? and being in a bad situation? ah whatever. Denny used to be in an R&B band and i really think thats going to work here! This isnt an exactly a Rhythm-y or Bluesey song, but He’s clearly having fun! thats why i love wings in general, its easy to tell that the band was having fun recording a song! Old Siam, Sir: A-hmm. Paul’s doing his squeaky voice again... I guess that can work sometimes but its absolutely not complimenting the piano in the background. Also, I feel like a squeaky voice wouldnt work the best for a story song. A story thats pretty incomprehensible too? Who is this lady! What the fuck is this village!! This is the song you wanted to make 4 minutes? and it fades out too... how much did they record... Arrow Through Me: So this is the one that the critics liked? Its the most synth heavy which i understand why people like, I like synths too! I like how the bass (which i think is also from a synth?) lines up perfectly with the horns! Its alright, it might grow on me later, but now its just a passable song. One i wouldnt skip. Plus I really like the reverb effects, the whole album has em but this one really makes use!! Kinda bad overall though.

-Side Two: Over Easy- Rockestra Theme: Just an instrumental. But one thats really important to music history! I don’t actually know the full story to this one, but I do know that i really like it! Plus the vocal effects on Paul’s... Scatting i guess you could call it? Whatever it is, it works! To You: This sounds... eerily like Getting Closer. But bad... Eh I like that organ. Not much to say really... theres only like one verse. After the Ball / Million Miles: Oh cool another medley. Last one we got was two albums ago! I guess since this is technically two songs id have to... review them both? After the Ball is exactly what it sounds like. A gentle rock song about seeing your love after a party :)! Pretty standard for wings. Million Miles! Sounds a lot like After the Ball but with an accordian? Fuck I’m not complaining. But also who the fuck is Deo. Winter Rose / Love Awake: Uh- Something is,,, wrong with Paul’s voice. like he damaged it? I mean its not horrible it just kinda takes me out of the emersion? Oh we’re already on Love Awake! his voice is fine now..! Man this song is mediocre! No wonder the 70s are regarded as lame./lh Weird that Linda isn’t singing backup here? Or if she is that Denny’s voice is just drowning her out. Winter Rose itself is kinda lame but its... sweeter I guess?  The Broadcast: SINISTER!!!!!!! I do not know who is talking but this sounds... dystopian. I don’t even know what the poem is about its just... the whole song is slightly off. But i mean that in a good way! So Glad to See You Here: MAN! They were trying so hard to be punk... Okay as a punk song this sounds horrible! But as a song in general i like it! It’s not mixed the best but i really like the lyrics! And I-HOLY SHIT WE’RE OPEN TONIGHT PART TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I really didnt expect that,,, thats.... genuinely cool! Baby’s Request: Oh the finale! H..huh... Jazzy! And its about going to sleep.. i think? Regardless, Paul’s good at writing songs to fall asleep to, this isnt an exception at all!! Although it is weird that at the end the same horn plays as the one in Thrillington’s Monkberry Moon Delight... Its probably just a coincidence, i thought it was funny though. ---- Okay! Overall, I liked Sunny Side-Up more as a whole since i like 4/6 of its songs, but MAN So Glad to See You Here and Baby’s Request are REALLLY GOOD-But then again. I only listened to all of these songs once, and i wont listen to them again until ive finished writing this post, just to keep my first impressions fresh. I don’t really know what else to say that album was fun as hell! So I’d give Back To The Egg a... 7.8/10! I really didnt expect to like it this much. even though New Wave is my favorite music genre, i didnt think paul would be able to do it justice! Especially since the genre was just starting itself up... heh.... hope it gets archived soon.

#vialogue #rambling #BACKTOTHEEGGARCHIVECOLLECTION IS FAKE NOW!!! IM FREE TO BE FUNFACTERDROID AGAIN!!!!!! #also if youve listened to it feel free to share your opinions too... #now. i can.. make a playlist i guess? #im not good at making playlists at all dyshbfdshj #i just go to a band's tab and shuffle all of their music #anyway. im going to leech off these songs for like 4 weeks now bye bye/lh #temporary sequeuetary #<- no way in hell im posting this immediately yusgbu #long post

[gabe-tsi]

Stitched Heart  (LizardHat)

Hmmm... So... I made a little fanfic based on a drawing by @ringocapuccino

It WAS supposed to be little. I guess I got a bit excited writing it. I’m not as good as many of the people here, but I’ve tried. Hope you all enjoy it. Is the first time I post a fic that isn’t on a “anon profile” or something so please be gentle aksdnfks I’m nervous

Word Count: 1.572

His firm hands held the cloth that slowly slid under the needle with a thread; the noise of the sewing machine was the only sound that could be heard echoing through the dark room. Concentrated, the man finished embroidering a dress for his agent of chaos. It should be perfect, just like his little hitman. It should be sophisticated for the occasion, but still show the chaotic personality of his lizard. The color of the luxe blending through threads with the color of chaos, weaving step by step the appropriate robe until he could finally found the balance between chaotic and elegant. And so he did.

Finally, after so much time and effort, it was ready. In front of him, the finished dress resting on the table, next to the sewing machine that now lay still without a sound.

Clutching by the vest’s shoulders, he lifted his newest piece and looked at it seriously, searching for imperfections and analyzing, making sure that it fit his refined tastes. When he was sure that suit was perfect, he allowed a relieved grin to sprout on his face.

He let his back rest against the soft foam of the seat where he was. His head hung back and tired, his half-opened eyes trailing the dark room. Over there, several mannequins scattered, the vast majority with elegant dresses and suits on their inanimate bodies of cold wood. How long had he been holed up in that room, working unceasingly to embroider the perfect dress? Probably for over a week. Dozens of unfinished dresses infested the room, along with hundreds of crumpled sheets of paper, already overflowing the table on which lay the drafts of the discarded ideas of the eldritch. And analyzing all the paper, thread and fabric wasted in the process, you could say that he had worked hard on it.

Why tho? He thought. Why do I care so much? I could just buy some gala dress or have Flug to order one on the Internet, and my minios would still have something decent to wear at the next event. But why? Why do I bother, all this trouble and hard work, just for her? He wondered, but no matter how much he thought, he could not find an answer. He did not know why he was so excited to please his employee. He did not know why he considered her... So... Special... Why? And why her? She was nothing but an nuisance to him!

He was thinking too much about it. A slight headache began to bother him, making him massage his temples in a failed attempt to get rid of it. He sighed, tired, and decided to ignore anything that came in mind for now.

At that moment, a knock echoed through the silence of the sewing room. Black Hat did not have to answer to find out who was on the other side.

Carefully, he grabbed the finished dress that rested on the table and hold it on his left arm, bringing it with him as he walked away from the room.

He opened the heavy - and expensive - ivory door, only to face his evil scientist with a worried look on the face.

"Sir... Is everything alright with you, Lord Black Hat?" He did not answer

"Where's Demencia?"

"Is... everything OK...?"

"I said..." He raised his voice, already losing his patience. "Where the FUCK is Demencia?!" He hated when people answered his questions with another question.

The nerd stepped back, afraid of being hit or something.

"I-In her room, sir!" The skinny man swallowed dry.

The older man just glanced at his subordinate and turned his back on him, moving away and heading down the corridors of the mansion to the girl's room. The young one just stood there, a confused countenance. Curiosity was giving him an itch, but he would not question his boss. He knew what was best for him.

The heavy steps stopped in front of the huge white door decorated with threatening warnings and graffiti with the writing "Dem X BH" in neon. Oh, hell. Anyone would know who that room belongs to. Black Hat did not know why he let her vandalize something in his domains. That neon palette was a strong contrast that ruined the gothic colors and victorian aesthetics of his home. He rolled his eyes, trying to ignore that little detail that made him slightly irritated and finally knocked on the door. Something seemed wrong. It was too quiet to be Demencia. A few moments later, the female voice answered from within:

 "Come in!"

He opened the door without hesitation, and as he did so he came upon the lizard girl leaning on her bed, surrounded by dozens of scrawled papers. The man peeked, slightly curious, only to come across the drawings made by her; it were Demencia and Black Hat, in a romantic interaction, probably one of the girl’s fantasies with him. He decided to ignore her "beautiful artworks" like he always did. If she was drawing, at least she was not disturbing him.

"Try it." He lend the dress to her.

"I'm busy." She did not even bother looking, too focused on her drawing.

"I didn’t made it for nothing. TRY IT." He repeated with a firmer timbre.

That phrase made her turn away from the paper for a moment. She stared at the dress the man gave her, opening a huge smile soon after.

"Did you made this for me?!"

"Yes, I-" Barely had time to explain himself, in an instant the girl jumped out of bed and grabbed the tissues of his hand, admiring the dress.

"IT'S BEAUTIFUL I LOVED IT !!" She looked at the man for a moment. "What's that for?"

"The Gala this weekend."

"ÉS PERFECTO, GRACIAS BONBON! I'M GONNA TRY IT RIGHT NOW!" She began undressing in front of her boss.

"WAIT UNTIL I'M OUT, DAMMIT!" He screamed, turning away from her, annoyed at the girl's inconvenience.

He hurried to leave the room, closing the door right after. God, that girl was a hurricane, and at the very least a nuisance. Yet her presence was... tolerable, in a certain way. And the hat man could not tell why. Why did he tolerate her and her crazy vows of love? Why did he tolerate all her chaos and destruction? For fuck's sake, he could just rip her apart in a heartbeat and she'd be dead before she knew it. Yet... he did not feel like killing, not when it came to Dementia. He might even be crazy, but maybe he was beginning to find the girl's presence... Nice? He could not say for sure. Maybe that was it, right? No, bullshit, it could not be. Or maybe...?

"Hey, Blackie~" She called him, opening the door to her room. The sweet sound of her voice woke the eldritch of his own thoughts, making him to turn around and enter the room again, curious to see his most beautiful and recent creation in the body of his muse- He meant employee.

It was when he came across the lizard wearing the dress woven by his evil hands. He froze right where he was, completely static and stunned. It was... perfect, just as he had imagined. Mesmerizing. He could not look away, not even for a single second. He had lived hundreds of thousands of years, and yet he could have sworn he'd never seen anything so... Dazzling ... Demencia was... So... No, it was not that. Nonsense. Hypnotizing and stunning, bullshit! He was just proud of his work, that's all! He was sure! Only his well done work, it was the only thing that delighted eyes about that sight before him.

But... those beautiful curves that fit perfectly into the seam of his freshly finished work, that sensual body that looked more like a Greek work of art, the long and beautiful exotic hair... Her pretty evil face and... Her pink lips, silently calling him... Her eyes... staring at him... begging for any compliment... Compliment that almost slid out of his mouth.

"It fits. Now take it off, I don’t want you to ruin it before this weekend."

"As you wish ~" And began to remove the dress in front of him again. But in a blink of an eye, Black Hat had already disappeared hastily amid the shadows of his evil mansion.

"Damn you, woman. Why are you so bloody mesmerizing?" He murmured to himself. He knew that no one would answer him; he was alone by now. But maybe he knew the answer. Maybe he knew why Demencia seemed so... attractive, somehow. Maybe he knew why he'd bothered to have all that work just for her. He took that answer, thinking seriously about it. He shook his head in denial. It was almost as if he could not believe it. What a fool of me to think about it. I am an heartless entity of darkness. And he rebuked himself, remembering never to think about it again. An heartless entity of darkness. No feelings. He repeated mentally. And it's not a punk lizard, after hundreds of years of existence, that’s going to change that.

He decided to forget this subject. And suppress anything that he may ever came to "feel." Ah, Black Hat, you fool, only if you knew....

#Villainous #villanos #villainous fanfic #lizardhat #lizardhat fanfic #fanfic #im nervous about post it #plus not confident about my writing #but here we go #and im not creative with titles omg #spoiler; i headcanon that Demencia has a room even if she doesnt sleep on it ok leave me alone #spoiler2; black hat with feelings #i succ and its probably out of character #sorry NGH

[def-march]

ANCIENTS

Characters: Joshua and 777 Length: 11 google docs pages (approximately 4200 words) Desc: a small fic I made for @the-composer <3 Love ya, H!!

Summary: Just as the iconic era of the 80s was ending, 777 had died alongside his two best friends, Tenho and BJ. Struggling to make ends meet in their new life as a trio of Support Reapers, they’re visited one evening by a mysterious stranger with orders to retrieve the singer, and bring him face to face with non other then the Composer himself for a little “talk.”

“Seven, do you remember when we first met?”

The punk glanced at Joshua, trying to formulate thoughts in how he was going to answer as he cracked open one of the beers he brought along. 777’s eyebrows furrowed as he took a sip of his bitter drink.

“Ya finally invite me t’yer special place on 104 just to talk?” He grunted, “lame.”

“But, do you?”

777 sighed with a smile as he put his drink down on the ledge beside him. The city suddenly seemed to have quieted down from in top of the tall building, even though he knew it wasn't the case. Time felt slowed and muddled until he opened his eyes once more.

“Really, Joshie, ya think I can forget that easily? Give me some credit here, dude.”

------

When the doorbell rang in the middle of the day, everyone in the trio was tense that it could have been another eviction. (There's really not much room in a city like Shibuya, and besides, three youthful Support Reapers weren't immune to the rules of the living. They were a handful of trouble for everyone they knew.)

It was Tenho who answered the door after the 3rd ring, revealing the tall man in the snakeskin suit and flowing black hair. However, the most unnerving were the eyes, completely shielded away with glasses that were tinted so dark, a starless sky would look bright.

“W-who are you?” Tenho felt his voice shake, even though a part of him knew that this person was not alive by any means of the word.

Without any other words, the stranger moved past Tenho and BJ, despite cries of protest of not inviting the stranger in for starters. The way which he walked was silent, and filled with Grace as he made his way to the younger 777 sitting in the couch, arms crossed with a fierce scowl.

“Your presence is requested.”

“I ain't goin’ anywhere.” The young adult replied, narrowing his eyes as he glared daggers and tightened the grip he had on his red sweater. “I refuse.”

“That isn't very advisable.”

“I don't care!” The scowl grew into a snarl, hackles rising like a dog. “I don't know you, so why should I trust ya? Ya just can't walk right into my damn house, for fucks sake!”

“I was requested to retrieve the Support Reaper who has been causing problems. You seem to not know the meaning of 'respect,” Sven Saintclaire.”

“What did you call me?” 777 bared his teeth as he snapped right up onto his feet, hands clenched. He could feel the heartbeat in his ears. He could see his two friends from the corners of his eyes, faces concerned about the situation, unknowing what to do of the stranger, and of the fury that 777 harvested.

“YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO RIGHT T’CALL ME THAT!” The young singer shrieked, throwing a punch at the man. Without hesitation,  the man caught the blow and twisted the hand harshly to the side, earning a cry of pain from 777 as he dropped to his knees, glaring up at the other.

It really hasn't been that long since he became a Reaper. After his Game, he knew that he desperately had to work on his temper and.nit jump straight to violence, but really this dude just waltzed into his house like he owned the damn place! How was he supposed to react?!

“I did warn you, it was inadvisable.” The black haired man glowered at the boy, who shrunk down out of fear. “For someone who interests the Composer, you are a brat.”

---

777 followed the intruder, not really paying attention to the direction they were heading, as he was fixated on the person himself, observing the calm and collected movements he made with every stride.

Rain was beginning to fall in the form of a light mist. The way the water interacted with the Underground was peculiar. He could feel the cold wetness as the droplets fell, but they never landed on him. It passed right through, leaving 777 dry. Despite being part of the UG for just over half a year now, whenever it rained he was either inside or on the plane of the RG. He shivered.

This new life he accepted was...strange for lack of better words.

777 looked up again, and to his surprise Megumi had turned his head to look at the rock star wannabe, piercing golden eyes peering out of the side of his glasses, causing 777’s heart to halt and jostle around in surprise. “Your staring is impolite; I suggest now that refrain from it when you meet Him.”

“Where else am I supposed to look? I've been livin’ in this dump of a city before I died long enough, I know where shit is.” 777 spat with a grunt, digging his hands further into the sweaters pockets.

Megumi was silent, and then he turned his head away and continued walking without acknowledgement of the young Reapers words.

777 frowned and resumed his pace, trailing after the other. “Ya know, ya never told me yer name.”

“Apologies, it must have slipped my mind. My name is Megumi Kitaniji… and yourself?”

“Cut that politeness shit, Meggy, you already know my name…”

Megumi couldn't hide the displeasure in his face at his new nickname, his nose wrinkling up with disdain, but ultimately decided to ignore it, getting this Support Reaper to Him  was already proving difficult enough. “Yes, it is Sve-”

“Like, the hell it is! I refuse to be called by that anymore! That's the old me!”

“It is what is written on your papers, it is what I will refer you as. Out of curiosity, what is your calling name then, hm?”

777 was quiet, eyes casting down on the sidewalk. Megumi stopped, causing the singer to walk right into him.

“HEY?! What gives!?”

“As I expected, you haven't thought ahead on the matter of your new name. Unfortunate.”

“No, you're fuckin’ wrong! I do have a name, asshat!”

“Then do tell.”

“Triple Seven! My name is Triple fuckin’ Seven!”

Megumi blinked in surprise, despite his facial expression remaining neutral. “Pardon?”

“You heard me! Triple Seven, like, three sevens?” 777 took his hands out of the pockets, tightening the fists until he could feel his nails digging into his skin as he looked up at Megumi, violet eyes unwavering. “MY NAME IS TRIPLE SEVEN!”

Megumi was quiet, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. This young man had such a strong vibe coming off of him, even though he has been here for a relatively short time. His personality was headstrong, as he was warned about, but it seemed to be worse than what he was even informed of. His whole character was...odd, to say the least.

“It sounds to me like you're trying to convince yourself, rather than me.”

777’s face melted into shock. Megumi was right; he was still coming to terms with his new identity after death, but before he could retort, Megumi spoke, “We have arrived.”

777 looked around, sewers, how nice. These people certainly did have shitty taste. Maybe they had tea parties with the rats. “Whatever,” he grumbled, following Megumi through the concrete passages, the smell of sewage reeked from every possible crevice.It was just one room after another, wasn't it?

He admittedly wasn't paying attention, so when they came into a bright room, that looked furnished and well, nice (even if it wasn't exactly his style,) he was a bit shocked.

“Aye, ya got booze. Nice.” 777 grinned, eyeing the bar and the many bottles on display behind it.

“Touch it, and I won't dare to hesitate on lopping your hand off.” Megumi hissed, golden eyes glaring from the sides of his shades. “I am aware you are an alcoholic. You may have a drink after, if you'd like, but you will pay for it. Come with me.”

The singer rolled his eyes, and followed, coming into a room that was suddenly spacious. A throne in the center with a glowing figure. 777 had to squint, but he did not falter beyond that.

“Interesting,” the figure spoke, his voice sounding like smooth chimes laced in silk. “You have no fear.”

“Should I? You're just like a mega sized neon light, really,” the singers voice was laced with sarcasm, clearly unimpressed. “Does only shades over there get a pair of glasses, or are ya try’na ruin my corneas?”

The Composer chuckled a bit. How entertaining this Reaper was. Not only that, but he was resilient and resisted against falling down against his powerful vibe washing over him. It was almost impressive.

“My apologies, I should have taken into account how my beauty is blinding.”

The rocker sneered as the light died down. 777 stopped squinting, eyebrows arching in surprise to see someone who's age was indefinite, but was clearly youthful, perhaps an older teenager or a young adult much like the Reaper himself, standing with a proper posture, right in front of him.

“Is this better?”

“I guess,” 777 snorted. “Ya look like a princess.”

“Do not talk to the Composer in such a manner,” Megumi spoke up, posture rigid, as if he was the one who was offended and not the pretty boy standing in front of them both.

“Megumi, relaaax, I take it as a compliment you see. I should not be seen as anything but royalty.”

“Yer porcelain skin would make a mighty fine throw rug.”

“Sir-- please,” Megumi started. “He's being rude-”

“Megumi, despite how long you have been part of the Underground, you still are extremely uncertain of your newfound status as Conductor. I suggest kindly, that you only speak when you're being referred to. Just watch, please.” Joshua sighed, rolling his eyes and placed a hand on 777’s shoulder. “Between you and me, he can be sooo protective, it's silly really. He's not new to the UG but he's  new to the position of Conductor; really needs to loosen up a bit...”

“Don't touch me.” 777 snarled, causing the Composer to take his hand off the Reapers shoulders in slight surprise.

“Got it.” He didn't really feel like getting his fingers bitten off, especially in a setting like this. He needed this Reaper to trust him, even if it was only a little bit. Provoking would only make the matter at hand worse. “No touchy touchy~”

“What d’ya want?”

“My, extremely straight to the point, aren't you?” Slightly annoying, but it gave him the impression he wouldn't have to butter up anything he said. The Reaper clearly had already come to terms that he was dead and not returning to the living. The only issue at hand may be the personal Vendetta against the one who ruled the UG.

“At least tell me who ya are, “Mr. Composer”.” The sarcasm in the singers voice definitely wasn't going anywhere, nor was the heavy air quotes he made as he spoke.

“A bit of an irritating brat, aren't you?”

“Of course; gotta keep up my rep.” 777 cracked a smile, crossing his arms. “I aim to please.”

“My name is Yoshiya Kiryu, but you may call my Joshua like the majority of those around me.” The Composer tilted his head, Ash blonde bangs falling over his face as he analyzed the Reaper. How peculiar of a personality; he really didn't care what he said to someone of authority, did he? Joshua returned a soft smile, finding that things from here on out would be entertaining, at the very least.

“I'm sure you're wondering why you're here-”

“Yeah? Kinda? I thought that part was obvious.”

Joshua rubbed his forehead, an irritated sigh leaving his mouth. Nevermind, would this be entertaining or borderline aggravating? “Will you please stop interrupting me and allow me to get straight to the point, you're only wasting your time here and prolonging the visit so be patient and kindly shut up.”

When no other smart alec comments were made, Joshua mumbled a relieved 'thank you’ to the Higher Plane. God.

“What I wanted to talk to you about was your points,” he began, clasping his hands in front of his face, his smile crumpling into that of a concerned frown. “You seem to be an exceptional Reaper of sorts, despite you not having the strongest Underground abilities, you have miraculous control of your vibe…” Joshua trailed off, listening to the music that this Reaper emitted. It was heavier than most would be, louder too, but it was steady and stable. The beat was consistent, a heart of a drum beat and a guitar solo of his heart on top of the static that was common among souls of the UG.

‘If he keeps developing at the rate he is currently,’ Joshua hummed as he thought to himself, ‘then it could very well be possible that it would only get louder and more refined; perhaps the static will vanish completely and the song will be in it's best form…’

“Is it true that you mastered the ability to shift planes within the first couple of weeks of becoming a Reaper?” Joshua couldn't help but blurt out the question. Normally Reapers took at least the first month to be able to figure out how to go back and forth between the RG and UG, and even then for those prodigies, it would still be a strain on their bodies, but here was a Reaper phasing in and out like liquid through a strainer. It was essentially effortless.

“Sorry, it's just-- you do so poor regarding most abilities in the underground. You have trouble summoning Noise, pins are almost completely useless for you, and your psyches as a Reaper are limited to brute force, but yet you somehow have extraordinary abilities in regards to your vibe and you are above the average Reaper when it comes to imprinting.”

“And?”

“And?” Joshua's sleek brows furrowed, momentarily stunned by the question. Didn't he know how atypical that was?! No, of course not, this Reaper had a brain full of songs and spare parts.

“It's absolutely fascinating!” Joshua couldn't just put it into words how intrigued he was with the other, it made him feel giddy with excitement. 777 couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in mild confusion; he wasn't around long enough to actually understand anything about him that Joshua thought was so amazing, but yet here he was, the Composer Himself acting like a preschool kid learning about dinosaurs. Joshua, catching wind if his actions, cleared his throat and straightened out his posture back to the professional facade it was before.

“I do believe you could potentially see yourself rank up if you get better in the other areas of performance, but enough of that,” Joshua paused, tapping his pursed lips with his delicate porcelain fingers in thought.

“The real reason I called you down, aside from my own fascination, was how you are with Players. You seem to be able to erase them without much of a second thought, but with others you will hold yourself back or even help them. It's not against the rules by any means, but I don't recall many Reapers, or even some at all, taking as much mercy onto the Players as yourself. Does this correlate with your abilities, by chance? Why do you do it?”

It wasn't really that hard for 777 to answer. “It's because I relate to them. I went through the Game, and I hope I became a better person because of it. They show potential, they deserve a chance to better themselves and it's going to only get harder with every passing day in the UG. They deserve that one ounce of hope.” 777 looked away, towards the ground. It felt weird hearing the words come from his mouth. It wasn't the entire truth by any means, but he hoped it would satisfy. For now, at least.

He just doesn't want anyone to go through what he did during his game. He wants to be that ounce of hope to help a Player through the day. 777 just wanted to mean something good for once.

“I think it's partially 'cuz I feel more human after the game, ‘specially compared to most Reaps that I've seen.”

Joshua's eyes widened slightly. Most Reapers would say they felt less humane, more monstrous, no longer inhibited by the rules of the living. In the Underground people could be who they truly were underneath their flesh and skin. It made sense though, here in front of him stood a Reaper who felt more human, one who not only frequented the RG, but interacted with it, taking pity on it and the people who walked that plane.

“We we're all human once, but when I was alive I stripped myself of my own humanity earlier than most would. The Game showed me how I was before was just. Wrong. That's not the way a human should act, no one should be like how I was.”

“We were all...human...once…” Joshua repeated the words slowly along his tongue. They felt foreign on his lips, like trying a new dish from another culture and being unsure of the taste. Was it like or dislike? Too spicy or too sweet?

“You seem to have a good grasp on yourself as a person.”

777 couldn't help but burst out laughing. “If I did, I don't think I'd even be dead!”

“True.” Joshua hummed. “May I ask what was your entry fee to the game?”

“My voice. Not just my physical voice, but my metaphorical one, too. I couldn't ever bring m’self t’ try and bring out what I really thought and wanted to say.”

“How unfortunate. And the fee you have after becoming a Reaper?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you feel discontent because of it? Not knowing the fee you lost to become who you are now?”

“I think bein’ a Reap was the bes’ thing to ever happen in my life.” A pause. “Unlife.”

“After life,” corrected Joshua.

“Whatever.”

“And why might that be?” Joshua asked. He could already guess the answer, he just wanted to hear it for himself. A confirmation of sorts, just to know how he should approach the Reaper in the future, if this Reaper would allow him to, anyways.

“I get a new identity. I get to be better than what I was before I died.” 777 looked to the side. “I can achieve my dreams like this, without havin’ 'em be wasted away t’ nothin’.”

“What dreams are those?”

“I wanna be a rockstar. I wanna influence people, show 'sm they're not alone in the world, that there's people jus’ as angry as 'em, just as upset as 'em, and together we can make a difference.” 777 narrowed his eyes, looking back at Joshua. “I don't fuckin’ know why I'm tellin’ ya all of this, I don't even know ya.”

“You know my name.”

“And nothing else.” 777 snorted, crossing his arms. “My turn to ask questions, then.”

Joshua blinked in surprise. He really didn't think the tables would turn so sharply onto himself, but he should have at least  guessed as much, considering how the Support Reaper was acting.

“Do you have any dreams?”

“I've been dead for a long time, and I am the godly influence of a city, I don't think I have time for dreams--”

“Thats bullshit!” Joshua stumbled back in surprise at the sudden hostility and passion that was in the others voice. “Everyone's gotta have dreams, if you're older ya jus’ had more time t’plan yer attack an’ tackle em!”

“I do suppose, you may be right.”

“I know I'm right,” snorted 777, a smirk on his face. “Ya may be dead but that don't mean ya can't feel alive.”

“That's rich in itself, coming from someone who has stated they feel more human.”

“Bold of ya t'assume that feelin’ human meant like ya felt alive.”

Joshua frowned at those words. They had only just met, and this guy got it; he understood. Humans don't have to feel alive, they do not even have to feel. They just had to be, and continue being. Not one person in the world wished themselves alive, but many wished themselves dead.

777 could say that he didn't have a grasp on who he was as a person all he wanted, but he had a grasp on emotions and how they functioned, whether he realized it or not. You didn't need a reason to feel the way you do, you just had to exist. Did it often make sense? Of course not, but the world wasn't black and white and things were changing and evolving so much that it made the Composers head spin in circles the more he thought about it.

But really; what was going on in that mind of the singer? A sense of feelings but not a sense of self; the emotion of anger but where was the guilt?

Joshua pushed a strand of his Ash blonde hair behind his ear, watching the singer in an unnerving silence. Neither of them spoke, but each of their minds was frantically thinking. When should I go? Do I let him stay?

The Composer breathed in, an idea trickling through his head. Why would he doesn't and wonder about what the other was thinking when he could see for himself? He had control over the UG, after all, he could just scan the Reaper and send him on his way, back to whatever shit hole he crawled out from.

Joshua closed his eyes and concentrated, feathers falling from his wings as he explored the mind's eye. There was nothing there.

Almost nothing.

He could see a door, locked and chained shut with an animal in front, growling through bared teeth and intense violet eyes that shone through a fury that was masked with rage, but hidden underneath was the familiar defensiveness of fear.

Triple Seven here, Joshua thought, with the lull of a sadness that he and the singer shared, but we're no strangers of. Is afraid of opening up...

Suddenly, the vision shattered like glass as he was knocked out of his meditative state. Stunned and falling to his knees, he could barely register what had happened. He reached a hand up to his face, feeling the warm, sticky blood gushing out his nose and between his finger tips.

“--SIR!”

Joshua waved his hand, signaling that he was fine, that Megumi should stand down and out of the way. He looked back up at 777, mouth agape in shock.

“You felt that?”

“I dunno, but did ya feel that, bitch?” 777 shouted, both hands clenched as his sides, as if he was prepared to through another punch. Blood dripped down from his right fit into the floor.

“Don't  fuckin’ try to scan me if yer preachin’ 'bout trust an’ shit if ya don't act on it! Ya want me to trust ya, and respect ya and whatever else bullshit ya want, yer gonna have to earn it like a normal fuckin’ person!”

Joshua's face of shock melted into a small giggle, before molding into a full blown laughing fit. He didn't care about the searing pain he had of a broken nose, he didn't care about Megumi frantically wanting to help him. This was definitely more entertaining that he had anticipated, he really just couldn't help but laugh in response.

The pain, the anger, this Reaper really was so human compared to the hardened Composer, he couldn't help but laugh at how alive he felt, tears forming in his eyes as he snorted. Joshua wiped the blood out from under his nose, starting at his bloodied hand, still laughing to himself.

“I can't believe you hit me.”

“I got more where that came from is ya decide to pull that shit again.”

Joshua looked up, back to his hand and the concrete floor, covered with blood drips, and back to 777. The smile never left his face as he got up, offering the singer his gentle hand as a truce. “I'll keep you under my watchful gaze.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 777 snorted, looking at the hand and rolling his eyes. Yeah right, he wasn't going to take it from such a prissy boy, Composer or not. Spinning around in his heels, he turned to walk in the other direction-- away.

“Wait! The Composer hasn't dismissed you yet!” Megumi called out, taking a few steps forwards, only to be stopped as Joshua held his arm out, blocking the Conductors charge.

“Let him be.” Joshua said, glancing at Megumi and back to the Support Reaper, waving his hand in farewell at him.

“Goodbye, Triple Seven! Until we meet again!~”

“Ya didn't call me Sven.” 777 looked over his shoulder in surprise, stopping his walk to turn around and stare. Even though Joshua was socked in the face, there was still warmth to his icy cold facade, deep in his mulberry eyes.

“Of course not.” Joshua smiled softly. “This is who you are now.”

---

“I remember the outcome going a bit differently, don't you think? I distinctly recall you grovelling at my feet, kissing the very ground I walk on.”

“Duh, you probably had a goddamn concussion thanks to my fist.” 777 rolled his eyes, finishing off the can of beer in his hand and tossing it down the roof of 104, eyes following up as it fell until it could be seen no more. “We've known each other for a long time now, huh? Man, we're so fuckin’ old…”

“Absolutely ancient.”

#my motherfucking writing #the SHOW must go ON:|| HEADCANONS #Personal Jesus:|| aggravating young god #i am not gonna italisize things lmao i dont have the patience for that after just copy n pasting from my google docs #twewy #the world ends with you #i hope yall dont mind some fandom tags bc i worked really hard on this #i love writing and I love H's josh

[kristie-rp]

[2016] Five Times Olivia Was A Full-Time Employee (and the One Time She Actually Got Time Off)

Prompt: Coffeeshop AU, modern AU, alternate first meeting AU. Olivia is generally unlucky right now and is just frustrated by foreign people in general.

-1-

Olivia doesn’t follow dancing.

She doesn’t follow anything, really. She doesn’t have the time. The blonde young woman has been on her own since her brother was murdered, and rent is not cheap in the city, even after a decent payout. Her family comes from money, but technically Simon was the heir, not her, so she doesn’t really have a right to any inheritance until the lawyers finish arguing. So for now, it’s commissions, regretting going to college to learn more about photography (because of course the murder happened just before the start of her last semester, so by then it’s “well there’s no point in not finishing this” and she doesn’t stop to think that debt sucks because when she makes up her mind about something, she pointedly ignores the negatives), full-time at Starbucks, walking the dog, and collapsing into bed every night too tired to resent her life.

Maybe she should consider moving out of their penthouse, but Simon picked it based on one of his careful lists of everything the siblings had wanted at the time. There’s a pool and a gym on site, the apartment has a view to die for, two bedrooms, and she’s allowed to keep Bopeep, her  Lhasa Apso-Shih Tzu cross dog. That’s another thing she should consider getting rid of, because paying the neighbour to check her food when she gets home is pricey, too, but Bopeep is all the family she has left at this point. Getting rid of her would be a betrayal. Hence, Starbucks.

She’s making faces at the toddler that ‘Jen’ always brings in with her, despite the woman obviously being distracted (she’s on the phone, again, speaking quickly into her Bluetooth headset in the business lingo that Olivia half-understands because college and Simon were extremely insistent), by the time the lunch time rush starts.

And then the jerk at the front of the line, with six people behind him already, tells her to write Alexander on the cup in a French accent. She only recognises the accent because her family are from Paris.

He’s carrying a gym bag and she’s pretty sure he’s wearing a leotard with a denim jacket over the top. He’s actually more polite than most people are when they order anything at Starbucks, says “please” and “thank you” in a strong French accent that she only recognises because her family are from Paris, and even smiles immediately before going back to glancing at what she thinks is a phone. She writes Alex on the cup in large black letters, because clearly he thinks he has better things to do, and she’d like to have him know that she does, too.

Predictably, he doesn’t even notice when he takes the order.

-2-

The next time he comes in is two days later. This time, she’s scowling down at the paperwork she has to get done. Technically she’s not meant to be doing this at work at all, but she doesn’t have time after work. She has to take Bopeep for a jog and she’s hoping she can time it around the post-work rush from the public transport around the place.

“Good afternoon.”

“And you, sir,” she says automatically, dropping the pen. “What can I get you today?”

“Grande Iced Raspberry Latte. For Alexander.”

She’s even more convinced that the guy is an asshole now that she recognises him. Who else insists that their name is Alexander in the twenty-first century, immediately before ordering from the bloody secret menu. Olivia, in case it isn’t obvious, resents the secret menu.It doesn’t exist. It’s presumptuous and not actually a secret, just a case of ‘guess the combination they mean’ that hopefully doesn’t end with yelling. Even Jen doesn’t order any bullshit ‘secret menus’, just a standard tall breakfast blend. “And how do I make that, sir?”

“Just an iced latte with two pumps of raspberry syrup,” he explains, even offering a smile. “And call me Alexander – this is the best coffee place near Madame Croix’s Studio, and I’m afraid you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

“Do you want me to memorise your favourite drink, too, sir Alexander?” she retorts, ever sarcastic. To her surprise, he actually laughs. She tells herself she isn’t blushing as she turns to the machine to make his drink.

“Just Alexander.”

So she writes ‘Aliks’ on the cup and gives him the blandest smile she can manage. “Most people around here just call it ‘the studio’, sir Alexander.” She stops herself from adding that advertising his apparent talent will make him no friends.

-3-

“How are you living on this income?”

“Oh, yes, because you make it so well, Deon.” He’s a half-Kenyan man who came from some backwater town, chasing a dream and a doctorate. Unlike Olivia, he hasn’t made the mistake of a photography degree. “Is this your way of telling me my shift’s over?”

“Nice try. Break’s done. You’re on service.”

“I’m always on service,” she points out, because it’s true. She’s glad, anyway, because unlike some of the other casuals, Deon finishes dealing with a rush before coming to get his replacement. “Good luck on your paper on – was it particle physics?”

“Greek history,” he corrects, tossing her the requisite apron and leaving her to the hell that is Starbucks and a solo shift.

She’s just fixing the nametag onto the apron when the new regular comes in with a greeting and an “I take it your name isn’t really ‘not the short one’?”

Today he’s ditched the leotard and the denim jacket for sweats and a hoodie, probably because it’s raining outside. “What gave it away, the fact that there are three other people in this room that are taller than me?”

His smile falters a little, as though it’s uncertain now. She’s probably too pleased that he had an effect on the usually unflappably cheerful regular. “Ah, common sense, actually, I’m sorry to say. I’m not that observant.”

She snorts. “My name is Olivia, if you must know. Another raspberry latte for you?”

“You remembered me. Consider me impressed, Miss Olivia.”

“Ah, my purpose for the day, completed to the best of my ability.” In response to the confused smile, she shook her head, amusement replaced by the now familiar irritation. “Same as last Friday, Sir Alexander?”

“No. Venti Chocolate Macchiato, I wrote down the recipe for you, here –” he passes her a note written in a gorgeous script she can really appreciate, having an eye for detail. She suppresses any desire to compliment it because holy shit this is an irritatingly complicated coffee...thing.

It takes a few minutes, with a couple other customers showing up before she’s done. She gives him the cup with yet another bland smile. “You forgot to write down how many shots of espresso.”

“Just the one should be alright,” he says, making up for her blandness with his own smile. As he leaves, gym bag in hand, she allows herself a smirk before turning to the next person in line.

His cup says Allix.

-4-

Three weeks later and she’s making yet another ridiculous drink, ordered by Sir Alexander himself, when her phone rings. She knows it’s important because the ringtone is set to a punk song that no one would ever play in a Starbucks, and the only other calls set to make noise are the ones from the lawyer. “Excuse me,” she says quickly, “enjoy your, ah, white chocolate cinnamon chai latte. Liv, what’s going on?”

Liv is a high school teacher who works locally, living across the hall from Olivia and, formerly Simon. After finishing school and taking up the job, Olivia asked Liv (who, in a strange twist of face, used to babysit Simon’s former fiancée. Small world) to keep an eye on Bopeep. If she’s calling, it means nothing good. “Bopeep is sick.”

For a second, Olivia is relieved; sick means alive and not gone. But then her mind catches up with what is going on, and she chokes her heart out of her throat, turning away from the counter and Alexander, just standing there and fiddling with what he’s worked out is an iPod he never has plugged in, pretending not to be listening. “She’s what? How bad?”

“Hasn’t eaten any of her food, coughing, she had this weird – growth, I suppose, on her stomach. I brought her into the vet and she’s got this thing called ‘distemper’ apparently. She said we got it early but there’s always a chance that things could go sour.”

Olivia’s got both hands cupped around her phone. “But, but, I had ‘Peep vaccinated for that, when I first brought her home, last February, she – she should be alright. She shouldn’t even have this illness.”

“Vaccine’s aren’t a guaranteed preventer, Olive. Now – I can sign everything on your behalf if you can’t get away...”

She wants to say no, that she can do it herself, but she wants the best for Bopeep. And the fact is, she can’t afford it and she can’t leave work – so she has to swallow her pride, especially with another customer waiting impatiently. God, she hopes the lawyers sort out their shit soon. “I’ll pay you back, Liv.”

“You –” Liv pauses; Olivia can hear it. She wonders if the teacher was about to tell her that she didn’t need to worry about paying her back, as though her pride could take the insult. “Alright, it’s a deal. Vet’s calling me for everything. I’ll call you when I know more,” the woman promises, before hanging up.

When she’s finished making up some boring latte and food for the customer and the half-dozen that follow in the post-work rush, Olivia finally has a moment to pause and try to collect herself. And even though it’s at least half an hour later and Alexander has a habit of immediately leaving, he’s still standing on one side of the counter. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks after watching her, the epitome of cautious wording.

Olivia shakes her head, but then she finds herself coming around the counter and speaking up anyway. A couple of inconsiderate gits have left their rubbish on their abandoned tables, and it’s on her to clean them up. “That was my neighbour, calling to say my dog might be really sick.”

He’s silent for so long that Olivia thinks maybe he’s gone, but then she feels someone take her hand and gently start rubbing it, tracing a delicate pattern onto her hand. “Tell me about the dog,” he says, in such a soft voice she almost thinks she imagined it.

“I don’t have time,” she protests weakly.

“You can take five minutes,” he corrects. He’s not wrong.

So she tells him about how her dog was a ‘weird breed’. About Bopeep being a shih tzu crossed with lhasa apso, but with sort of russet fur with white and darker brown markings. About Bopeep being hyper and cuddly, friendly and well-behaved, fun and entertaining. About being excellent company when the world is against you, but without sounding quite so self-obsessed. By the end of it, she’s got tears in her eyes and mumbles something about needing a napkin, only to have an unfamiliar, gentle hand press a handkerchief to her eyes, carefully cleaning her up. It’s Alexander, of course, he’s stopped tracing patterns on her hand by now.

“I’ll get in trouble for not doing enough work today,” she mutters, mournful. He smiles, tells her Bopeep sounds fantastic, and that everything will be okay, before ordering another coffee, this one definitely to go.

“I won’t interrupt your shift any more, Miss Olivia,” he promises. “Not today, at least.”

She writes Alexander on the cup.

-5-

“She’s perfect again!” she exclaims delightedly, whipping out her little camera to view the video of her dog excitedly bounding towards her. She’s showing Connor and Deon both, each of them her co-workers on Sunday. Sometimes there’s Lisa, too, but not today. She called in sick last minute, so Olivia took on her shift after the manager promises she’ll call in someone else to take the afternoon shift. She’s pretty sure the only person left who takes weekend shifts is Connor’s boyfriend, Tobian, so this ought to be a productive day (she’s also pleased

“You don’t typically work Sundays,” a familiar accent points out. She actually laughs, possibly for the first time ever, as she turns to greet Alexander. He’s less irritating now, though she isn’t sure if this is because he actually was never annoying and she’s just now noticing, or if it’s an acquired taste. “It is nice to see you, though.”

“I know it is,” she retorts immediately, holding the phone out. He goes cross-eyed trying to see it right in front of his nose, before angling his head to get a better look. “Look!”

“Ah, so Miss Bopeep is well again?”

“Yes,” she immediately answers, almost cutting him off. “Thank you for not, you know, running away screaming when I, uh.” She’s too embarrassed to say broke down, but really, what other phrase is there for what happened?

He smiles, waves it off. “You spelled my name right afterwards, so in a way, it was purely self-serving, if you think about it. There’s no need for you to thank me for that. That’s an good video, by the way.”

“It’s side work,” she explains, “I do photography on commission and record things. Same as Friday, or is this changeover day?”

He shifts, as if considering. “Surprise me.”

She blinks at him in surprise, before shrugging and ringing up her own preferred order, throwing in a brownie that she’ll pay for out of the tip jar for good measure. A couple of minutes later, she places a venti cup on the counter and smiles at him, Alexander J written on the side. “Steamed milk, 4 pumps caramel, 4 pumps toffee nut, 4 pumps cinnamon dolce, topped with whipped cream and salted caramel. Try it.”

She’s delighted to see that he immediately does so, smiling at her after a moment. “I apologize if I’m being paranoid, but why are you looking at me like this is an experiment?”

“No, I’m just surprised that you actually tried it. Usually once someone hear there’s so much flavouring in this thing, they hide rather than actually try it. Anyway. Hot Butterbeer Latte, and it’s done best here because no one else knows the recipe like I do.”

He shakes his head, glances at the clock on the wall and straightens up. “Thank you, Miss Olivia. I have to get going, though, I’m afraid I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

She smiles at him. “See you later, Sir Alexander.”

-+1-

A mix up with the schedule means Olivia ends up finishing work a couple of hours early, just after the post-school rush, largely because Lisa wants to train her brother so he can get his own job with some skills more useful than high school math. And maybe Olivia’s a little worried that Lisa seems to be limping, but she doesn’t mention it so Olivia makes the decision not to, either, and heads home instead.

“C’mon, Bopeep,” she coos after she greets Liv and does some cleaning. For once, she doesn’t get home completely exhausted, so it’s no stretch for her to call the dog, lead in hand. She usually jogs the dog, but this is the first time in a long time that she’s actually had the energy to be upbeat about it. Because the sun is still up for once, she grabs her better camera and resolves to take some photographs. A few minutes is all it takes for her to get Bopeep and head downstairs.

A couple hours later and a light drizzle has descended on the evening. She thinks nothing of it, even picking up ‘Peep and heading into the Starbucks she works at to grab a hot drink before heading home. To her surprise, the place is actually quite crowded for this hour, full of people dressed to the nines. There’s even a table of people that must be from the studio. “What, is 42 shut?” she asks Lisa, who’s nestled behind the counter with her brother, Reece.

“Yes, and the studio just finished the first of a new show, so this is just where everyone decided to go, I guess.” Lisa is a tiny little blonde woman who always manages to sound nervous. She’s half-way through a journalism degree, and although she works casual only, her and Olivia started at the same time. She reaches over the counter to scratch Bopeep behind the ears, smiling the tiniest amount. “I’ll just make your drink. Give me a minute, Olivia.”

Olivia hums in agreement, adjusting her grip on the dog and turning away from the counter. Bopeep makes a noise of protest when she walks into someone, squishing the poor thing unintentionally. “I’ve heard of magnetic attraction, but since I’m not loaded up with metal, that one was on you,” she starts, trailing off after a moment.

There was Alexander, blinking at her. She was lucky his cup was empty, as it was; he’d been going to get another drink for himself and his companions. All of whom are visible behind him, staring at her with various degrees of confusion. One of them actually hides their mouth behind their hand and leans over to whisper, “Wow, rude.”

Olivia worked in a Starbucks. She knows how to hear people over the top of the racket made by others. She’s distracted from glaring at the brunette by Alexander clearing his throat. “You aren’t – you’re not wearing your nametag.”

It takes a minute for Olivia to register that one of the guys at the table behind him had said oh my god, that’s the barista chick, before she looks down at her clothes. True to his word, she’s currently wearing thermal tights, and a vest over her baseball tee. “I’m, ah, not working tonight. Finished early.”

He finally seems to notice the dog. “So this is Miss Bopeep?”

Olivia nods mutely, tilting her arms so that the dog can be more easily petted by him.

“She likes me.”

She laughs. “She likes everyone. She’s a friendly one, after all, that’s half the reason I got her.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“Uh, she’s adorable. Obviously.”

He laughs at that, follows her over to the counter when Lisa calls her order. She takes one look at him and groans; Olivia makes him hold Bopeep while she moves around the counter to make his ridiculously complicated drink. “It’s Monday, so that’s a new drink for you, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking – the thing you made for me yesterday?”

“One Hot Butterbeer Latte, coming up,” she chimes, getting right on it. Of course, Lisa could have pulled it off – even Reece could have – but she’s happy to help out and join him when she’s done. “Who’re your friends?”

“Coworkers. We were at the studio late.”

“That would explain the leotards,” she chided.

“Most of us aren’t wearing leotards right this second,” he corrects immediately before shrugging, absently adjusting his grip on Bopeep. “We had a recital tonight. Just finished.”

Olivia, despite him coming in all the time, still doesn’t follow dance. “A what now?”

“A recital. We’re performing La Sylphide this week...?”

“La Sylphide,” she echoes. She doesn’t know what The Sylph is, figures it’s a dance of some kind. “Is it good?”

The look he gives her suggests she’s just asked one of the dumbest questions he’s ever heard. As she passes over his drink, it’s clear she doesn’t care. “You should come see it. I have tickets that I never give to anyone, and I think you’ll enjoy it. We can get dinner afterwards.”

She blinks. “Why, Sir Alexander, it almost sounds as though you’re asking me on a date.”

“Well – when you say it like that... yes. Yes, I am. Miss Olivia, would you do me the honour of going out with me tomorrow night?”

She smiles at him, takes her dog back. “Yes, Alexander, I absolutely will.”

-bonus-

Olivia is coming off her break just in time to let Reece take his own before the post-work rush. She’s on the phone. “Merci bocoup, Monsieur Merrigold. C'est si bon d'entendre que tout va bientôt se terminer.”

“C’est atroce de t’avoir tenu si longtemps, madamemoiselle Renner. Je vous assure, nous obtiendrons le meiilleur résultat possible pour vous.”

“Je le sais, Monsieur. Je dois partir, je suis désolé. Je peux vous appeler plus tard?”

“S'il vous plaît.Je vais vous envoyer un message si quelque chose d’important se produit.”

“Merci. Au revoir,” she finishes, hanging up quickly. “Same as yesterday?” she asks Alexander, now her boyfriend of two months. He frowns at her.

“That was perfect French.”

“Oui. That’s what happens when you’re born in Paris and raised in France for ten years,” she points out.

He blinks blankly at her, before throwing his hands up in exasperated surprise, crying out loudly enough that Jen, in the corner with her toddler, drops her phone: “Pourquoi ne m'avez-vous pas dit que vous étiez français? J'ai été aux prises avec l'anglais pendant des mois pour vous!”

Olivia’s response is, of course, to laugh. “Oh, you poor dear, I’m sure that must have been awful for you.”

#kristie writes #kwrites #kristie's writing #kwriting #au #a thousand and one realities #ft. alexander #ft. olivia

[anirbansain]

From anarchy to serenity!

So when you're exhausted after a whole day's work and you're headed back to your place, what are those random things that you do? What all do you think about? Whom do you call up? Now, that's something you don't think about at all. The moment you step out of office, you just call her up. The problem starts only after your call gets connected, coz you don't know what to say, what new stuff to talk about. Same old shit you speak out. That conversation would then go on unless you are out of words, well, out of breath actually. Pretty obvious, the girl on the other side of the call would be feeling the same way. But these calls have actually become a part of our regular schedule. Ya at times we indeed feel like we need a break from all of this.

Precisely, I was going through all of this when I had stepped out of office on a Wednesday. Ya....on a Wednesday. Mid of the week. So bloody bored you get after three consecutive days of office-work and the very thought of going through the same shit for another couple of days is in itself another big trauma.

The thing is you see such shitty affairs at office, you get mind-fucked easily. Same set of people, wagging their tails and approaching their managers begging humbly for a penny's increment, the only reason being that they are married now. You need to see that look on their faces...oh boy....all that they say is "Sir! I need a bit of stability in life. I am a married man now. I've a family to look after." Funnier thing, the manager nods his head with that affirmative response..."Ya! I understand!" Holy fuck! I feel like saying to that employee "Dude! The female who you having your hands joined for and begging around is your wife. It's you who needs to look after your own family. Why on earth would you want your manager to pitch into the scene?" After that, there are those people who right after reaching office run right to their managers' desk. They bloody won't even mind polishing their managers' shoes. They can talk about anything and everything apart from work. " How's your health? How's your wife doing these days? How are your kids? Those scratches and dents on your car.......you got them all fixed?" They can possibly even talk about getting groceries at much cheaper rates for their managers' household. You also just can't ignore those people who are chasing some or the other random female in office. Now this game has got absolutely no rules. No matter, what work a lady does, what her designation is, how old she is, which part of the world she belongs to, some or the other guy is for sure having his eyes all set on her. Best part, the lady even after knowing about her modest follower just pretends as if things are all cool. Not a big deal at all.

Last but not the least, you would always get that chirping sound from some or the other corner. Nah! That's not the melodious voice of the nightingale which you have read about in your primary school story-books. That's not what I'm talking about! The girls who dress up all good, take quite a lot of make-up right after reaching office and who always have a weird collection of toys and mugs at their desks. I swear to God! These people are just crafted into human structures, but they are no less than movable knowledge repositories. They can talk.....actually they can keep talking all day long.....they can shower their inputs on any random topic from any era and on anything that's going on anywhere across the world. Oh mother of God! They can talk non-stop. But according to every such heavenly girl, some or the other girl that she is familiar with loves gossiping. I know....that's hilarious.

Anyways, these are just a few things which you would get to see every single day when you are at office. So, I've also been seeing just these few things for the last three days. Horrible! Horrible!! So bloody horrible!!!

But now that I finally got rid of all this shit, the surroundings were indeed looking better. Got rid of that regular call as well....even better. Finally bought myself some free time. But thought walking into a shopping mall close to my place would be a good source of refreshment. Some random yet useful stuff I can buy as well. "Some milk, some wafers, a few chocolates and ya most importantly some shampoo........... I just can't forget the shampoo this time....." was all that I was saying to myself while stepping into the mall. But then the moment I walked in, I saw an endless number of people hovering all around..............some were buying clothes..........some were looking for groceries and some were like lost souls, they themselves probably didn't know why they were there. All of them bloody dressed in formals, some were dressed like those roadside punks, some were very cautiously dressed in very decent outfits.

But in the midst of all this, there was that one person, a middle-aged lady, dressed in a simple traditional Indian attire. She was looking at those shelves full of hand-made dress-material. So simple, yet so very elegant, so very prominent, so soberly she was outshining the entire crowd. I had been thinking for long "I just can't forget the shampoo this time", but got stuck so badly on her. Said to myself "There's time for buying stuff.....but who is this girl????" All of this was happening so fast. She saw me gazing at her with a stunned look from a distance but then I had no other option other than chewing my nails while I was standing next to a shelf of toilet accessories. The escalators were doing their own jobs, the lifts were operational, somebody from the customer service desk was still announcing out the discounts on different categories. Bloody everything was operational other me. So lame!! It's like you are trying to take a snap of a high-speed car on a highway keeping your focus on the car as you gradually move your camera with the motion of the vehicle. The final picture that you get gives you a beautiful and intact image of the car with everything in the background hazy.

Ya that badly stuck I was! Just that simple saree, probably just the minimum of ornaments she had on herself. Still, she was like....so very beautiful. Thought in my mind..."She won't be an IT employee, no way! Else, how could be she so cool in her mind? She actually seemed to be happy all the while as she had that very minimal smile on her lips all the while, you know that minimum curvature on the edges of the lips which you'd hardly get to see on an IT employee's face." So, either I've been seeing all boring yet highly modern outfits from long or else I've been dealing with sad people since quite some time.

But the general traits of a guy never change, right? So, I thought of plunging into the details. Discovered that she's not fat, not very tall, not very short either but still she was not having high heels and she was definitely not married. She had a lot of paper-holders and files in her hands. Wait! From that I really can't infer whether she's an IT employee or not. She had indeed spotted me watching her from that distance for quite some long but she did walk by me giving me that same gentle smile while she was moving towards the billing counter.

"But I shouldn't really follow her!" is what I convinced myself. It's definitely better to keep certain questions unanswered after all. Maybe I'll see her again or maybe not, but this whole time would for sure be worth remembering............well, only till I see her again. No compliment can possibly be as beautiful as her and no word can be good enough to describe her. Thank God! I didn't get to know her name, else I would have immediately tried to figure out her ethnicity, her religion and everything about her background. Just felt like gazing at her was kind of a gateway to a serene zone. But on the other hand, I did realize that the shampoo just can't be ignored this time.........again. The other things can wait..........

 -Anirban Sain