#Goodtimes Enterprises | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

good-chimes · 22 days

Text

[HOTGUY!] HAS ONE NEW MAIL

Users with permissions to this shared mailbox:

Bdubs (role: Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes, Actor). Last login: Today.

Cub (role: Hotguy PR Agent). Last login: Today.

Scar (role: IT’S ME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE ONE AND ONLY!). Last login: 215 days ago.

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: are you there?

is this hotguy’s email? i thought you were coming on patrol?

Why do you NEVER ANSWER YOUR PHONE

-cg

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To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: The VALUES AND PRINCIPLES of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

Dear Cub (if that’s your real name),

Now that you’ve been working for Scar for several weeks, I realized I never sent you any AGENCY INTRODUCTION documents. That’s okay! None of us are perfect, despite what you might feel when you look at me.

For your ENJOYMENT and EDUCATION, here are:

The Founding Principles of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

1. Bdubs is Scar’s favorite employee.

1a. Bdubs is also Hotguy’s favorite employee DESPITE the fact he does not technically work for Hotguy, and no upstart new PR agent is going to change that.

2. Hotguy’s identity is a secret. You must never reveal that we both work for the same person. Take it to your grave if you have to.

3. However, if you see someone talking shit online about Hotguy or Scar you should immediately defend his honor. I often do this and you can see the results in the shared folder admin\arguments_bdubs_has_won. You might not be as good as me at winning debates on the internet—don’t worry!! I can give you tips.

4. Here at the agency, we have the HIGHEST STANDARDS in responding to emails from the public. I noticed there are SEVERAL HUNDRED UNANSWERED EMAILS sent to Hotguy’s addresses that redirect to our shared mailbox. Scar is a very busy man! It is YOUR JOB to clear these out.

5. We are open and helpful with everyone. Except hostile journalists. And the TCG. And the tax authorities. And anyone who might want Scar to do anything unreasonable like ‘be on time for something’. Keep this in mind as you go through the inbox.

All The Best!!!

Bdubs

P.S. I have noticed that admin\important_documents is now full of files called ‘virus1.exe’ ‘virus2 (gov encryption).exe’ ‘virus3 (might be sentient).exe’ etc. Explain this!?

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To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: RE: The VALUES AND PRINCIPLES of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

Yeah man cool this all sounds great

Scar seems to have a few email addresses that feed into here. i’ve sent replies according to which one the public emailed:

[email protected] — i replied to some of these but then i kinda got bored and started sending links to cool space facts instead. People will appreciate these i’m sure.

[email protected] — sent everyone a bulk reply of “Thank you for EMAILING_HOTGUY!! Hotguy loves you!”

[email protected] — sent everyone a photo of Scar in his Hotguy costume

[email protected] — sent everyone a photo of Scar in his Hotguy costume minus the shirt

[email protected] — sent everyone who gave their address some trick arrows. Only some of them will explode.

[email protected] — redirected this one to spam

[email protected] — also redirected this one to spam. replying to the IRS just encourages them.

inbox zero, my friend. we’re ready for the next concerned citizen to write to us. Let’s go.

Cheers,

Cub

P.S. don’t worry about the viruses. Just a hobby. they’re in \important_documents because I needed a folder that scar never clicks on.

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To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: Re: The VALUES AND PRINCIPLES of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

Dear Cub,

Interesting. INTERESTING.

Don’t think you’re going to work your way into Scar’s affections with CLEVER VIRUSES and SHIRTLESS PICS OF HIMSELF. I see your game.

I’ve been Scar’s agent for years and I think when things heat up you might find this job too hot to handle.

All the Best!!!!

Bdubs

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: TCG Special Officer <[email protected]>

Subject: OFFICIAL REVIEW NOTIFICATION

Dear Hotguy (civilian identity unknown),

We are currently undertaking a review of your recent vigilante activities as ‘Hotguy’.

Vigilantes (‘heroes’) are encouraged to protect citizens and cooperate with the TCG. For this we require vigilantes to regularly communicate with their TCG liaisons, attend emergencies on request, and support law enforcement operations.

None of our emails to <[email protected]> have been answered—I was going to say ‘in some time’, but I checked our file on you, and it turns out the right word is ‘ever’. You have never answered an email from the TCG. I am sure you can see why this is an issue.

We do admittedly have some difficulty getting vigilantes to ever listen to us, but this is a new low in obstructionism.

We have requested your assistance in investigating thefts from two biotech laboratories, vandalism at a local redstone supplies shop, and multiple call-outs to security incidents at Mumbocorp. You have completely ignored all of these requests. We note you have instead caused widespread chaos, disrupted several TCG operations, and at one point impersonated the Mayor in order to trick ‘Doctor M’ into purchasing a non-existent bridge.

May I remind you that vigilante activity is only legal insofar as we decline to prosecute heroes for property damage. Kindly reach out to our liaison department immediately so we can work together on collaborative action under the direction of the correct authorities.

On behalf of Head Agent V. Berger,

Special Officer #49

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: are you there?

who is answering hotguy’s emails and why have you sent me a list of top supernovas! this is NOT HELPFUL

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To: TCG Special Officer <[email protected]>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: OFFICIAL REVIEW NOTIFICATION

Dear Concerned Citizen,

Thank you for reaching out about the availability of Hotguy. Hotguy is unable to respond himself because he is rescuing kittens from tragically falling into rivers, an activity that has fully occupied him for the past eighteen months.

This is quite the list of criminal events, my friend. I thought the TCG had this kind of thing under control. It’s concerning that you don’t. Doesn’t make your TCG department look super great, huh?

Thinking about it, this really seems like something the Police Commissioner should know about. If you’ve lost the Commissioner’s email address, don’t worry. I found it on a forum.

Cheers,

Cub

Hotguy PR Agent

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: TCG Special Officer <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: OFFICIAL REVIEW NOTIFICATION

Dear Hotguy’s PR Agent,

I understand as a law-abiding Hermitopia resident, you may be alarmed at descriptions of disorder intended for Hotguy’s eyes only. Please do not be concerned. We also strongly recommend you do not forward this chain to the Police Commissioner. As you will see from the news, the city is peaceful and everything is completely under control.

Kind Regards,

Special Officer #49

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

THERE ARE THREE HUNDRED CHICKENS WITH LASERS ON FIFTH STREET

tell hotguy to call me he’s not picking up!!!

-cg

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To: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

Dear Concerned Citizen,

Regrettably Hotguy is not available as he is escorting orphans to the North Pole to tour Santa’s workshop.

Cheers,

Cub

Hotguy PR Agent

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

it’s JULY

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To: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

Hotguy believes in being prepared

is this really cuteguy? what’s going on?

-Cub

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

i was coming back from patrol and going to pick up my pizza. i always get pizza, cub, you have to understand this is an important part of patrol.

when i turn the corner to my normal pizza place there are

AT LEAST FIVE HUNDRED CHICKENS WITH BEAK-MOUNTED LASERS

ALL OVER THE STREET

BETWEEN ME AND MY PIZZA

they’re milling around and scratching like someone just dumped them here. whenever they squawk they burn a tiny hole in the nearest wall. i tried to get near one to look at the device on their beaks and i nearly got my finger burned off.

now i’m on a roof. i want my PIZZA, cub. i’m a close-range fighter and i’m not getting up close with a laser chicken. this seems like a hotguy problem!

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Pearl Moon <[email protected]>

Subject: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Helloooo,

My name is Pearl Moon, and I’m a reporter with the Hermit Herald. I heard Hotguy has a new PR agent at this address. I’m not going to lie, I’m delighted. Hotguy’s a great guy for a quote, obviously, but getting hold of him is kind of a nightmare.

I’m at the scene of the Eighth Annual Fried Donut Festival. I’m contacting you because a citizen running a stall has allegedly just seen a, I quote, “weaponized chicken”.

According to them, it shot an “adorable laser” into their supplies, punctured a hole in their fruit toppings cooler, and ran under the stalls. I’ve been on this beat for a while and this sounds like a Doctor Monster or a Zedaph special to me. Personally, my money’s on Doc.

I know your client and Doctor Monster go back a long way, so I was wondering if we might see Hotguy himself swooping in?

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

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To: Pearl Moon <[email protected]>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Dear Concerned Journalist,

Thank you for your email. As you know, Hotguy is currently in Canada fighting smallpox by shooting individual bacteria with a special crossbow, for which he has received a commendation from their Prime Minister.

I’ve just contacted him to get a quote about the chicken and he definitely said, “Seems bad.”

Enjoy the festival! Feel free to send Hotguy a souvenir donut box to my address.

Cheers,

Cub

Hotguy PR Agent

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

there’s some kind of festival with crowds of civilians going on in the next street. the chickens are wandering towards it. to make everything worse, i think i saw a newsreader van.

this is funny but also very bad.

i’m going to see if i can lead the chickens away from the festival with some bait, since hotguy’s obviously too busy admiring his own biceps in the mirror to help. i’ve got half a granola bar and an apple core. this is going to work really well for eight hundred chickens. here goes nothing.

if hotguy wakes up from his afternoon nap, you can tell him we didn’t even need him.

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Pearl Moon <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Dear Cub,

I’m pretty sure Canada doesn’t have smallpox anymore. I don’t think anywhere has smallpox.

New update: Several hundred chickens have just erupted into the festival from a side street. They all appear to have lasers. The sheer weight of poultry has overturned two artisan donut stalls, which has caused what I’m going to describe as “mass panic” as people try and avoid the laser beams. People screaming, people running, everything coated in a fine layer of powdered sugar. No injuries yet, but it looks like the Prize-Winning Triple Marshmallow Churro Donut display will never be the same again.

Also, I swear I just saw Cuteguy.

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

i got ONE chicken with the granola bar and NOW IT’S DECIDED IT’S MY BEST FRIEND. it keeps trying to fly into my arms! this is not helping!!

its friends are now all over the stalls. the laser chicken breed has discovered a new staple food and it’s fried donuts. this is NOT my fault. clearly none of this is my fault.

oh god now there’s two TCG agents coming over to see what all the shouting is about. the chicken radius is growing. there’s a folk band on a bicycle and a chicken just launched itself into their tuba.

i’m going to try and round the rest of them up. keep the TCG off my back and tell hotguy to do ANYTHING HELPFUL AT ALL.

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

To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Pearl Moon <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Situation update: Cuteguy is in the middle of a huge crowd of shouting people and appears to be clutching a chicken. Also, Doctor Monster has turned up. He’s trying to give a dramatic speech about his “evolved chickens” from a nearby rooftop through a loudhailer, but I’ll be honest, everyone seems more interested in Cuteguy.

#laserchickendisaster and #whereishotguy are trending on Chatter, but no sign of Hotguy yet! Sure he doesn’t want to give us a longer quote?

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

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To: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

I have a cool contraption that you could probably use for catching chickens. downside is you do need some plutonium. Not much but, like, not a legal amount.

Alternately i also have a great recipe for roast chicken

-Cub

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

we are not roasting these chickens, cub, the chickens have done nothing wrong!! And WHY DO YOU HAVE PLUTONIUM, WE TOLD YOU TO STOP THE DARK SCIENCE. DO SOMETHING USEFUL ABOUT THIS FESTIVAL SITUATION INSTEAD.

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Pearl Moon <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Situation update: Doctor Monster has now turned his loudhailer on Cuteguy and accused him of stealing his evolved chickens. He seems very upset. The Doctor has declined an interview, but I’ve got some incredible photos and the powdered sugar really suits him.

I’m trying to get a quote from Cuteguy but it’s quite difficult to even see him through the crowd, and the chickens, and the German street band, and the displaced donut vendors, and the TCG agents who are trying quite earnestly to get to him, and—did I mention—the chickens.

My camera team is getting some great footage, but do you know what his plan was here?

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

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

To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

everyone in the crowd thinks i own these chickens!! one of the chickens has set fire to a hot oil vat and a journalist is after me and an old lady keeps trying to hit me with her handbag!!!

DOC IS NOW TAKING POT SHOTS AT ME FOR NO REASON AT ALL. I HATE THIS JOB.

i’m behind cover

it won’t last

if you don’t get hotguy here now i’m never speaking to him again

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To: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

nooo you’re doing great man, knocking it out the park. Doesn’t sound like you need Hotguy.

you’re a hero too, right?

-Cub

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

okay cub listen.

i don’t WANT hotguy. if i could fix this chicken situation without the city’s most annoying vigilante turning up to take the credit, believe me, i would have done it already.

but you know what hotguy can do? he can win the crowd. hotguy’s always on the right side. nobody would ever accuse hotguy of owning fifteen hundred laser chickens. he tells people about hope and teamwork stuff and they believe him.

oh god

the TCG are here and i’m apparently target number one.

they’ve just spotted me on this gazebo and i’ve got no good roof to jump to. i’ll have to make a run for it. if you don’t hear from me again, i might have got arrested.

hotguy spouts all that rubbish about teamwork, but hey, it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t believe in it himself!

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To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: what I’m about to suggest is legal

we should help him huh

do you know where scar is? like which cell phone towers might be close. I’ve got a map of the towers if you can give me a location.

-Cub

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To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: this sounds NOT legal

BDUBS TO THE RESCUE, AS ALWAYS. You’re welcome.

Scar is actually recording a snack commercial over on Twelfth Street. Details in projects\casting_directors_bdubs_is_not_feuding_with\dumb_projects_we_have_to_book_for_money\Sparkle!Cereal!

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To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: this is 100% legal white hat hacking definitely

okay I’ve remotely accessed Scar’s phone and put a klaxon on it. Should be audible two hundred yards away.

I’m gonna call him now.

-Cub

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Pearl Moon <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Situation update from your reporter on the ground (still no quote from the guy himself?)

Cuteguy has been showing great stamina in the chase that’s been going on. The camera crew is impressed!

He is currently being pursued by:

1. Doc

2. Doc’s cyborg guard robot

3. Two TCG agents

4. Three hundred and sixty chickens (approx.), one of which believes Cuteguy is its best friend

5. Several animal activists attempting to recapture the chickens

6. A bar crawl that seems to think they’re doing a parade and wanted to join in

7. A German band on a long bicycle with two clarinets and a man trying to shake a chicken out of his tuba

Cuteguy is…looking back over his shoulder?

Oh, wait! Situation update paused!

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Cuteguy <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

HE’S HERE

HE’S ACTUALLY HERE

FINALLY

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To: Hotguy <[email protected]>

From: Pearl Moon <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Hotguy has arrived!

He’s swooped in with three trick arrow shots that set off fireworks above the crowd, rappelled straight up to Doc on the roof, and started a fist fight with him. It’s very dramatic. I’m not sure he’s actually landing any of those blows.

Helpfully for Cuteguy, no one is looking at him anymore. He’s surreptitiously putting distance between himself and the TCG agents.

Doc is now making another speech while fighting Hotguy. If I’m honest, he seems pretty happy he’s finally getting the credit for his own evil plot. We’ve got a close-up on him. Doc would like us all to know that this is the future of poultry, the future of lasers, and possibly the future of donuts? Last part a bit unclear as at that point Hotguy threw his loudhailer off the roof.

Meanwhile, Cuteguy is trying to lure the chickens away from the civilians with pieces of donut. This would be working better if the crowd weren’t all shoving forwards to try to get a better look at Doc.

Doc has taken off on a jetpack declaring he’ll “be back!”. Hotguy has given him a thumbs up.

Oh, now Hotguy has finally caught on to what Cuteguy is trying to do and is chivvying the crowd to help herd the chickens away with donuts for bait. Donuts are flying. The crowd is now enthusiastically participating in this donut-tossing activity. The chickens are delighted. Hotguy has spotted our camera team chasing him and we’re getting a lot of that action-shot this-is-my-good-side pose.

Hotguy and Cuteguy work together pretty well when they get going, huh?

Now Hotguy has swung down to land in the middle of the crowd and put an arm around each of the TCG agents, who are heavily dusted in sugar and look somewhat sheepish. What a nicely framed shot! Almost as if Hotguy pushed them into position for the cameras.

Well, I suppose I’m writing an article about how much Hotguy helps the TCG.

Your client owes me one.

Doc’s guard robot has rounded up the chickens that Hotguy and Cuteguy have funneled back into a nearby alley. It seems to be putting them in large nets. The local pizza place has a sign that says RIGATONI JONES PIZZA: CLOSED DUE TO CHICKEN EMERGENCY, and for some reason Cuteguy seems upset about this. Excitement over, I suppose?

I do hope you tell Hotguy how helpful the Herald was! Next time he’s got a tip-off to share, just tell him to remember your friendly local journalist Pearl Moon.

He knows where to find me ;)

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

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To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: hmm

You know, Cub, I’ve been thinking. That wasn’t bad, how you got hold of Scar. NOT BAD AT ALL. I am starting to think you might be a useful type of person to have around.

All The Best

Bdubs

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To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: Re: hmm

cheers man

i’ve rigged the klaxon so it plays when either of us or cuteguy calls scar. if he waits too long to answer it starts to play the whole Lilo and Stitch movie audio. if anyone asks this is not technically a virus.

-Cub

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To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: Re: hmm

I LOVE it. I love it.

You know, I have a whole list of casting directors I think you could test some virus development on. It would do them good. Keep them on their toes!! (I believe this is called…“white hat”).

I am HEREBY going to let you into my most SECRET FOLDER.

<[email protected]> has shared admin\nemesis_list

Maybe start with ‘casting_directors_who_do_not_recognise_bdubs_talent-spotting_genius’ and ‘producers_who_were_rude_to_scar’

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To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: Re: hmm

leave it to me, man

we’re gonna go far

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[ START | PREVIOUS | NEXT ] [ MERCH ] [ MISC ]

My piece for the Hotguy comic zinethology! Thank you so much to editor @antimony-medusa and designer @cocoabats (I have used tumblr’s format for most of it because my eyes are too bad for pdf scaling on my phone, but for the FULL INCREDIBLE HOTGUY EXPERIENCE you will want to download the actual zine at @hotguycomiczine!!)

#hgcz #hotguy comics zine #if you like it I really recommend downloading the zine where the design is so much better!!#cubfan135 #goodtimeswithscar #bdoubleo100 #pearlescentmoon #grian #long post #cw: arguments #glossywrites

334 notes · View notes

moriiartist · 3 years

Note

scar.......mr capitalist man

-👑

‧₊ THEY SAY THE BEST THINGS ARE FREE

PAIRING: C!GoodTimesWithScar x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS: (Modern AU) You’re an up-and-coming designer, he’s a billionaire playboy with a taste for expensive clothing. Could I make it any more obvious?

WARNINGS: Fluff and angst (with a happy ending), self-doubt, very mild language

A/N: You can have a little capitalism, as a treat. I may have, perhaps, gone a little overboard with this fic. Also, fun fact- I listened to Money by That Poppy and Malibu 1992 by COIN on loop while writing this. The vibes? Immaculate.

You considered money a... funny thing. The wealthy seemed to only get wealthier, while the poor, poorer.

To you, It was a virus, wrapping thick green roots all over people’s lives and digging in until there was nothing else left for it to take. Once a person had gotten a taste of wealth, of abundance, it was impossible for them to go back. Impossible for them to stop themselves from digging deeper and deeper into a pit of debt and desperation as they chased that ‘big break’, that pipe dream of having everything they could ever possibly want.

You had watched your parents be destroyed by it, sacrificing their dreams to take care of you. You had watched them give up so many things for you, working from sunup to sundown to scrape together enough finances to get you through school and into a prestigious design college.

You loved them all the more for doing so, you really did, but because of it, you found yourself slightly resentful of the people born into luxury. The people who didn’t have to choose between good housing or a good education. Of course, you couldn’t blame them for existing, exactly, but the constant interaction you had with them certainly didn’t help.

As one of the highest-marking graduates from your college, you were immediately hired by Gorgeous Inc., a custom clothing company whose services were among the best in the business. Their clientele list was a constantly rotating roster of celebrities, millionaires, and influencers that had all collectively decided to throw their money at an outfit they would wear only once.

The first few months on the job had been hell if you were being honest. You had started out as an assistant to one of the top clothiers, shuttling fitting supplies to and from appointments and trying not to piss off any of the customers too much.

Despite your best efforts, even when you weren’t the one saddled with the undivided attention of whatever trophy wife had booked a session that day, you still had to deal with plenty of tantrums. It seemed like none of these people had ever been taught how to behave when things didn’t go their way, even going so far as to smash the beautiful (and expensive) champagne glasses the company had custom-made on the ground in a fit of rage. So, yeah, your opinion had some real-world experience to back it up- especially when you considered that that wasn’t even the worst you had seen.

Eventually, you managed to work your way up the company hierarchy. You had never cared much for office politics and hadn’t done nearly as much kissing up to your bosses as some of your colleagues, but when clients started to become more and more interested in your work specifically- well, it was in Gorgeous Inc.’s best interest to promote you.

Of course, with your promotion to managing long-term customers, it was inevitable that you would run into him. Scar Goodtimes, the CEO of ConCorp Enterprises.

Known for his love of couture clothing, and his even greater love for his cat Jellie, Scar was one of the most prominent figures in the upper circle- part of a highly exclusive group of the egregiously rich known as ‘the Hermits’. (Everyone wanted to be a member, nobody could afford it)

With fame comes plenty of gossip. You’d heard plenty of things about him in passing, but the thing that stuck out the most in your head was his status as the upper echelon’s ‘most eligible bachelor’. Despite his great fortune, the man had never married- stringing his starry-eyed admirers along with as much effort as batting an eye.

You weren’t about to lie and say you weren’t slightly apprehensive when his secretary had reached out to schedule an appointment with you. After all, if the people you had to deal with so far were merely ants compared to him, you could only assume that his behavior would be much worse.

With every scrap of professionalism you had left in your body, you made the promise to yourself that you would give him nothing- no reason to possibly blow up on you. You were going to be the best Prime-damned consultant he had ever met.

Naturally, your whole plan fell apart as soon as you set foot into the room you had booked for your first meeting. As with all of Gorgeous Inc.’s fitting rooms, the decoration was opulent, yet tasteful. Your shoes sank into the plush carpet as you approached the sitting area near the center of the space, several soft-looking armchairs arranged in a staggered circle around a mahogany table.

You were early, as you always were, taking the extra time to set up for Scar’s- Mojang above, you still couldn’t quite believe you were fitting him- appointment. With an ease that only came from months of practice, you laid out the binder filled with fabric swatches and clothing designs that you never seemed to part with. The object was barely even able to close with how many ideas you had managed to stuff in it, and it was a miracle that it hadn’t exploded and sent paper flying everywhere already.

You jolted when the door opened, recovering almost immediately and turning with a polite smile towards the person who sauntered in. Your customer-service façade faltered as your eyes met his, every thought fleeing from your head as your breath hitched in your throat.

Oh no, he’s hot.

You had always been skeptical of how much the billionaire’s looks had been played up, but meeting him face-to-face wiped any and all doubt from your mind. His eyes, a stunning shade of green that reminded you of emeralds or lush rainforest foliage, glittered with an almost curious gleam as they pinned you in place. With inhumanly soft-looking hair and the barest hint of stubble brushed along his jaw, he radiated a confidence that sucked the air out of the room.

What parts of your brain were still functioning had the good grace to remember to shake his hand as he offered it to you, desperately scrambling to regain your composure. You were somewhat successful, gaining enough conscientiousness to introduce yourself with a pleasant incline of your chin.

“I’ll be excited to see what wardrobe we can come up for you,” you said, keeping your tone even and polite to disguise any residual panic that might slip in. You had to physically stop yourself from tensing as he chuckled, breaking eye contact with you for the first time since he entered to glance around the room.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

It was easier to ignore Scar’s… intense… presence when you were able to slip into the grove of your work, your smile becoming more and more genuine as you went through the design process. You were pleasantly surprised by just how knowledgeable the brunette was when it came to fabrics and composition, able to release some of the tension in your body when you realized that you wouldn’t have to talk him down from any impossible requests.

Of course, all of that stress came piling back on your shoulders the minute you had to take his measurements. You had never really thought about just how much you had to touch people in your line of work, but now you were painfully aware of every centimeter of your body that touched his, warmth leeching through the layers of his suit into the air between you.

Your hands were steady as they wound the tape measure around Scar’s torso, but internally you were freaking out. Every time you had to lean into his personal space, you were praying that he couldn’t feel how hard your heart was beating from the proximity.

It certainly didn’t help that his eyes seemed to be boring holes into your back as you moved around, tracking you as a predator would prey. It was so disquieting, in fact, that you tripped on the coffee table and went tumbling into his chest. Scar’s hands flew to your waist, steadying you as you regained your balance. You took a moment to process what had just happened, your mind blue-screening, oblivious to the way the billionaire’s hands curled into the material of your shirt.

“I am so sorry, sir,” you rushed out, stepping out of his hold and smoothing over the black turtleneck you wore as part of your uniform. He let go slowly, almost reluctantly, a strange expression flashing across his face before it smoothed back into neutrality. “It was an accident- I didn’t mean to crash into you like that.”

Scar waved you off, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that only added to the embarrassed flush that was working its way onto your face. “It’s fine, really. We all make mistakes.”

You finished what was left of the session in a rush, the feeling of eyes on you only adding to your haste to get out the door. You were certain that you would be fired as his consultant, what with all the mistakes you had made, but after a full day of nerve-wracking radio silence, you finally received a message:

‘When can you schedule another meeting?’

So, from then onwards you were subjected to a series of events that made you question your own reality. You were hired on as Scar’s permanent liaison to the company, working with him on any and all of the clothing pieces he commissioned and seeing them through every step of production. It was quite the step up for you- under normal circumstances, it would take people in your position several more years to directly work under someone as influential as the CEO.

Meetings with Scar were surprisingly… pleasant, almost. The man was infinitely patient where others were not, and knowledgeable about your line of work, so the weirdness of his behavior wasn’t necessarily in regards to that. No, it was completely different from anything you had experienced before.

Scar was polite, far more polite than any other person of his status you had ever met. He insisted on opening the door for you wherever you went, waving your protests that it was supposed to be your job to do that for him off with a wink and a grin. On more than one occasion he arranged for food to be brought in for the both of you while you did your work, warmth spreading through your body whenever your hands accidentally brushed while looking through papers.

The man also happened to have very little concept of ‘appropriate spending’. As you had learned through articles and your own time with him, Scar had inherited Concorp from his uncle, and had enjoyed money and power throughout his entire life. Things that seemed egregiously expensive to you, he would buy without a second thought.

One day, without any prompting or warning, he presented you with a pair of brand new fabric shears because ‘it looked like the old ones were getting a little dull’. They were quite obviously hand-crafted, with glossy silver blades and a handle carved with a design like clouds.

“S-sir!” you squeaked, your feet rooted to the floor. You were unable to get your body to do something, anything, other to stare slack-jawed at the gift in the brunette’s hands with a mixture of trepidation and awe. “I can’t possibly accept something like that!”

Scar chuckled, a fond smile dimpling his cheeks as he shoved the box into your awaiting hands. “You’re too sweet, sugar. I’ve already bought ‘em, and it would be a real waste if you didn’t use them. What would I do with something like these?”

He waved his arms around emphatically, earning a small giggle from you. “I would have no clue what to do with them at all! It’s better for both of us, really.”

You sighed in defeat, pointedly ignoring the triumphant expression on the billionaire’s face as you tucked the box carefully beside your other supplies. “I guess you’re right, sir. Thank you.”

“Hey- haven’t I told you a million times before to just call me by my name? ‘Sir’ makes me sound... old.”

“Sure it does, sir.”

“Hey!”

You found yourself looking forwards to your meetings with the man, your professional smile slowly turning more real as he cracked joke after joke. It was hard for you to justify the excitement you felt as the appointments drew ever nearer as enthusiasm for a new project, sometimes even cutting short previous appointments to spend just a few more minutes in his enthralling presence.

The man was like a star, effortlessly pulling you and so many others into his orbit with every smile, every little moment that he looked at you like you were somebody worth listening to. It was so, stupid. So, so stupid of you to allow yourself to drop that shield of professionalism that had protected you time and time again. To let yourself befriend the man. To believe that he cared about you at all.

You had seen his type before. A rich man charming his way into someone’s life with lavish presents and pretty words, only to discard them like a child would a toy. A rich man blowing into your life in a whirlwind of laughter and light touches, only to storm out just as quickly. A heartbreak waiting to happen.

Despite how much it hurt, many nights spent biting back tears all over him, it was best for you to take a step back. Distance yourself a little. Rebuild the heavy brick walls around yourself that he had managed to charm his way past, and keep him out for good this time.

Bit by bit, you started to pull away from him. Your meetings which were once filled with amicable and easy-flowing conversation had shifted in tone dramatically. Your replies to anything he said or asked were polite, yes, but clipped, nipping any possible small talk in the bud. You fully resigned yourself to the role of ‘distant but helpful assistant’, shoving the parts of you that had laughed at his jokes into the deepest recesses of your mind.

You weren’t here to play, anymore- not when you had wasted so much time pining over a man who could never love you like you wanted him to.

It was clear that Scar noticed the absence of your comforting presence by his side, a hollow space where you once stood. You caught the glances he sent your way when you weren’t looking, an expression that looked suspiciously like hurt flickering through his eyes (although you knew better than to believe that he could possibly be worried about you).

It shouldn’t have been as big a surprise as it was when the presents started rolling in in earnest.

It seemed like every other day a new package or trinket was innocently sitting on your desk whenever you arrived at work, always accompanied with a small note from the billionaire who (most likely) had no idea about the butterflies that spawned in your stomach just from seeing him, hearing his voice. You had saved every single one, ignoring the pang in your heart whenever you caught a glimpse of his chicken-scratch handwriting out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey.”

You jolted in your seat, a nauseating mix of butterflies and dread stirring in your stomach. That voice- a light timbre that you equally adored and feared- could only belong to one person, the last person you wanted to see right now. You twisted around to see Scar leaning against the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of a pair of maroon corduroy pants that you had designed. “Um, hi?”

He shot you a grin (your heart skipping a beat), tilting his head to the side in a dog-like, but still so distinctly Scar, manner before stepping into your office. He rounded your desk, planting his arms against the smooth wood and staring down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes- fern green seeming to see straight into your soul. You hesitantly folded your hands in your lap, praying to Prime above that he couldn’t see the tremor in them, and arranged your features into the most neutral look you could. “Can I... help you?”

He blinked as if snapping out of some sort of trance, and shook his head to reorder his thoughts. “Yes, actually. Did you- did you like the glasses I sent you?”

Oh, the glasses. You had mentioned off-handedly one day that you were having problems with the sun getting in your eyes when you were driving, an annual issue that came with Daylight Savings. You should have known by now not to give the man any ideas, because barely twenty-four hours later and a brand new pair of Iskallium Premier sunglasses was waiting for you on your desk. Iskallium Premier, as in the number one couture glasses brand in Java.

You bit your lip, only just missing how Scar’s eyes flickered down to your mouth, and repressed the urge to slam your head against your office furniture.

“Yes, actually. I, uh, I appreciate the gesture, but…” you sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You did not want to do this confrontation. “I can’t take this.”

“Nonsense,” Scar said, mercifully leaning out of your space. “I ordered it directly from Iskall himself, just for you.”

Prime above, sometimes you forgot this man was just as, if not more, stubborn than you when he wanted to be. Unfortunately for him, this was not an argument he was going to win.

“No, sir- I genuinely cannot accept this. I know you mean the best, but you should just give these to one of your other employees. Not me.”

For the first time since you’d met him, Scar looked genuinely lost, brow furrowed and lips parted in surprise as he stared, wide-eyed, down at you. Despite your inner turmoil, your face was a mask of ice and marble as you met his gaze. You were not budging.

Scar shut his jaw with an audible ‘click’ after a moment of tense silence, still not breaking eye contact with you as he took a step back from the desk, furthering the distance between the both of you.

“Are you sure?” he said, searching your expression for any hesitation, but coming up empty. You fisted your hands, straightening your spine as much as you could to meet him head-on.

“Of course, sir.”

He exhaled slowly, face closing in a way that felt almost disappointed as he pulled away. Saying his goodbyes, the brunette took one more look over his shoulder before sweeping out of the room.

You locked your office the minute the sound of his footsteps faded away, curling up into a ball against the door and sobbing. You felt like glass, splintering into a million tiny fragments that could never be repaired. You felt like you were drowning, unable to breathe under the weight of your own emotions.

You had pushed Scar away to keep yourself from getting hurt, but every day you were with him but not with him, you were bleeding out from where you carved your heart out and handed it to him.

You called in sick after you managed to drag yourself home, clutching your phone in shaky fingers from where you were huddled under your blankets. You could only hope you had hidden the sound of your sniffles well enough- Mojang knows how fast gossip spreads through the corporate chain. At least you wouldn’t have to contact Scar (you refused to acknowledge how you almost started to cry just thinking about him)- your boss would do that for you.

The next few hours were spent wallowing in your own despair, eating straight from the ice cream carton, and watching whatever cheap rom-com movies you could find on television. Oh, if only your parents could see their pride and joy now- reduced to a teary, sensitive mess, all because you fell in love with a man who had never known a second of your struggles.

You fell asleep to the quiet murmur of the TV speakers, surrounded by tissues and an empty box of chocolates you had bought for yourself after valentine’s day.

The second day wasn’t any better than the first. You barely managed to force yourself into the shower before you collapsed back into bed, staring up at the ceiling. Now that you had no more tears left to cry, you were just… numb. Your chest ached, a hollowness that threatened to consume you radiating through your body.

You could only blink as knocking rang through your apartment, lazily flopping the arm you had thrown over your eyes to the side to stare blankly at the door. You were roused from your lethargy when whoever outside knocked again, this time with so much force they were practically banging on the cheap wood.

Calling out for them to ‘Give you a second’, you shuffled over and swung open the door to come face-to-face with sharp green eyes, soft brown hair, and a face lined with worry.

Oh.

Oh no.

“S-Sir?” you said, suddenly very conscious of just how much of a mess you were. Your eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red, a clear sign that you had been crying, and the oversized shirt you had been wearing as pajamas was rumpled and covered in tear stains.

“Can I come in?” he asked, and you suddenly noticed just how out of breath he was- as if he has run a marathon before he stopped at your apartment. His chest was heaving under the silk button-down shirt he wore, his normal suit jacket tucked under one arm and his hair sticking out at all angles. Your fingers twitched. You wanted to touch it.

Instinctively, you stepped to the side, allowing what could arguably be the source of all your problems to enter your home without any fuss. You played with your hands, self-conscious as Scar took in your living space for the first time.

Your apartment was small, with plain cream walls and slightly ratty carpeting. You had tried your best to brighten up the space with colorful window curtains and a few pieces of art you had gotten on sale, but it was hard to look past the cracking in the plaster ceiling, or the way floorboards creaked with every step.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted, unable to stew in silence as he inspected the room any longer. Scar jumped, unprepared for the sudden disturbance of his thoughts, but shook the surprise off in record time. He spun on his heel, crossing the space between you and gently grasping your upper arms. Your breath hitched as his face drew inches from your own, the brunette’s eyes burning into your own.

“I was worried,” he murmured, voice cracking slightly. “They told me you were sick, and you weren’t answering your phone when I texted or called, and-” he cut himself off, turning his face away with a sharp exhale.

Your gaze wandered to where your phone was splayed across the couch, and you winced. You had been too distraught to consider charging it, and it was clear that it had died right before Scar tried to contact you.

Scar looked back up at you, something so vulnerable in his eyes that it threatened to make your throat close up. “I asked around and they told me you were crying, and when I look at you I can see that it’s true. What happened, sweetheart? Who hurt you?”

He was so genuine, so sweet in tone and touch, that it shattered what little self-control you had regained.

“Why do you care, Scar?” you cried, wrenching your arms out of his grip as fresh tears dripped down your face. The billionaire’s face went slack, shock spreading across his features as you curled into yourself. “Why do you care? I’m your assistant, for Mojang’s sake! You don’t have to worry about me- I’m just another person on your payroll.”

Scar’s face crumpled. “I care,” he said, stepping forwards to cup your face in his hands. “Because I am in love with you.”

You stopped breathing.

“What?”

“I am in love with you,” Scar repeated, thumb swiping at your cheek in a gentle motion. “Prime- I think I always have been. When I first saw you, I could hardly take my eyes off of you. I knew that you would be someone I would want to cherish for the rest of my life.”

You screwed your eyes shut, allowing yourself to be tucked into his arms. Squeezing your arms shut, you finally allowed yourself to admit what had been tearing you up inside all along: “You asked me who hurt me. It was you.”

The arms encircling you tightened, the man holding you releasing a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Is that what-? I- oh gods. I’m so sorry, love. I never meant- I didn’t want-”

You tightened the grip you had on his shirt, effectively shutting Scar up as you pulled him as close as you could possibly get. “It’s okay now. You’re here, and that’s all that really matters.”

You could figure everything- the forced distance, your tangled feelings, your guilt- out later. For now, you were content to hold one another as you finally released every single emotion you had bottled up over the months you had broken your hearts over one another.

You would be okay, because, in a world where money rules all, you gave your hearts away free of charge.

#request #👑 anon #a meal for the children #c!goodtimeswithscar #goodtimeswithscar x reader #hermitcraft x reader #mcyt x reader #iskall is mentioned exactly once #also jellie because she is best gorl #tw: self doubt #tw: mild language

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