#also not me making whole excel table of some man's (lack of) outfits on my vacation..

[magnoliascelebration]

so i made calculations and out of the past 14 shows alex wore The Blue Shirt™ 6 times (43%), of which:

- first time at sziget festival;

- second time 4 days later in prague;

- then 4 times in a row at rock en seine, reading, leeds and cala mijas shows

[joonsrack]

+Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

+Genre:  One shot (maybe an eventual series). It’s not fluff, it’s not angst, it’s....idk i’m bad at this.

+Word count: 2.1k

+Summary: 

“Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.”

Meeting your boss in a BDSM club is probably the last thing you were expecting coming here.

+Warnings: NSFW (nothing graphic but story takes places in a BDSM club), BDSM themes, implied switch namjoon, implied dom reader, i know nothing about BDSM and BDSM clubs, don’t @ me. (if i should have tagged anything else pls let me know uwu)

+A/N: This is my first reader x member type of fic, and i gotta say, it was pretty fun. I wrote this for the Secret Santa event organized by the amazing people at BTS writers collective, as a gift for the lovely @freekyegg​ 💖💖💖. You said your fave namjoon was harness and choker namjoon, so my brain went straight for the kinky stuff.... I  hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! Also this fic has nothing to do with Christmas, idk how that happened..

ENORMOUS thank you to @spicykoreantatertots​ who edited this on a 2 hour deadline, when it wasn’t even finished yet 🥰💖

Of all the places you thought you’d be spending your Friday night, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, discussing SSC and setting up your membership, was not one of them. But here you are, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, going through the terms and conditions of your membership.

Jung Hoseok smiles at you before handing you a gold pen. The man looks immaculate in his double breasted gray suit, not a crease in sight. Despite his smile, there’s a dangerous aura to him. One of complete and utter control.

“Sign here, here, and here. It’s very important that you respect these rules, for everyone’s safety. We also insist that first timers stick to observation during their first visit. Wear this.” He says, putting down a red bracelet on the desk before you. “Then other customers will know not to propose you. You can also choose to wear this bracelet whenever you feel like just watching from the sidelines.” You hand him back the membership contract after you’ve finished signing on all the proper lines, and he examines your signature before nodding in approval. “There’s a bar at everyone’s disposal, but we don’t allow heavy alcohol consumption, since we prioritize clear consent.”

The nameplate on the desk with 'Jung Hoseok - Headmaster' engraved in cursive makes you feel like you’re back in high school. Except this is not high school, and sitting on the other side of the desk is a successful attractive young man, not a bald idiot.

“There’s some private rooms to everyone’s disposition, which you can either reserve in advance or the same night depending on the availability. We have one room for people who like to have an audience, which we call the Window Room.” 

You nod along with him, a little overwhelmed by all the information. He smiles reassuringly at you, noticing your deer in the headlights look. It feels more predatory than anything else.

“There's single mixers every last Thursday of each month, open to the BDSM community, and sometimes there’s special events, themed nights or performances, which are posted on the website. Any questions?”

You shake your head, feeling so far out of your element, sitting in this chair, about to enter a whole new world you’ve been fantasizing about but never dared to seek out.

It took your best friend, Taehyung, digging a little too deep in your closet for one of your blouses and finding your box of accessories and outfit. You had flushed a deep red in embarrassment at having your secret exposed, but your friend had been quick to reassure you there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

Then he’d shocked you into admitting he had a similar interest.

“You asked me once why I have a leash at home when I don’t own a dog.” He had said, shrugging one shoulder, and that had been an eye opening moment for you.

And then, after revealing you’d never shared with anyone your interest for all things leather, whip and power dynamic, he had talked to you about this club.

“It’s called Club Dionysus. It’s for people interested in BDSM. There are spaces reserved for scenes, but you can also just chill at the bar and observe. It could be good for you, to explore this side of you, you know? Without any pressure to participate in anything.”

A few days later, after a hellish week of dealing with your tyrannic boss, distracting yourself with a new experience seemed like an excellent idea.

The corset is hugging your body just right, your sheer stockings held in place by some garter and disappearing into your leather pencil skirt. The heels you have on would never be appropriate for a setting other than this one, making you feel like there’s power to each of your steps.

It’s definitely not the kinkiest outfit you own, but you chose to keep it tame for you first visit.

Taehyung is waiting just outside the door as Hoseok dismisses you from his office, wishing you an excellent time. He steers you toward the bar area, but that doesn’t stop you from mapping out the place. You had sneaked a peak at the club before being ushered into the Headmaster’s office, but it’s still a lot to take in once you’re finally free to let your eyes roam around.

The general theme colour seems to be dark palettes, dark wood details, and a little touch of red here and there, but definitely less than you were expecting. There’s the bar corner, which looks like any other club, save maybe for the bartender’s outfit. There’s some tables and then an open space, but it doesn’t seem to be for dancing, judging from the handcuffs hanging from the ceiling.

“For public punishment.” Taehyung specifies once he sees what you zeroed on.

You try to act unaffected, but it’s definitely going to stay in the back of your mind.

There’s a hallway that leads to a few closed doors, some with signs on them. It’s probably safe to assume these are “occupied” signs. Then there's a corner with a small stage, where those performances Hoseok mentioned probably take place. A Saint Andrew’s cross is placed on it, which you were kind of expecting, coming here.

Then, there’s a ceiling to floor window, giving into a darkened room.

You leave Taehyung at the bar waiting for you drinks, curious about what is standing on the other side. The room is dark, so you need to stick your face to the glass and shield your eyes from the light to see anything beyond the window.

You see some outlines, but you can’t make out exactly what’s in there, other than some dark furniture. You push your face even closer, tightening the shield around your eyes.

“You’re allowed to peak inside through the door, you know.” Someone says from behind you, startling you from how close they sound.

Your body seizes up in fight or flight response, survival instinct kicking in at the familiar voice. You know it so well; Too well. It follows you all day long, barking orders left and right, calling you at all hours to add to your workload. And then it wakes you up in the middle of the night, most of the time from stress nightmares.

Most of the time.

You deliberate about turning around and facing the most humiliating moment of your life, or just going straight for the exit without turning back. There isn't a lot of patrons in the bar right now, so the path to the door is probably clear. The only problem is that your feet are grounded to the floor, your heels feeling like they're suddenly made of concrete.

There's a little voice in the back of your mind whispering something that resemble 'Don't forget he's here too', but right now all you’re able to focus on is the presence you can feel, hovering over your shoulder. 

That's probably what describes best your relationship, him hovering over your shoulder.

Kim Namjoon has been breathing down your back since the first day you started working as his personal assistant, making your every waking moment a living hell. Go figure he would be doing it here too.

You brace yourself for his usual cold demeanour. You're persuaded this man hates you, always bossing you around and criticizing your every move.

You aren’t expecting the soft grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

Neither are you expecting… everything else.

Gone is his everyday slicked back hairstyle, his silver hair coiffed into a more relaxed, swoop to the side look. He’s wearing this black satin blouse with see through sleeves and leather jeans, which is already a lot to compute, quite different from the suit you’re used to seeing him in. What makes your brain short circuit though, is the harness. 

A leather belt cinches his slim waist, two leather straps attached to it, running over his strong shoulders. There’s two leather cuff on each of his wrist, over the sleeves ends, and the harness look is completed by a simple black choker, looking stark against Namjoon’s neck.

You feel your mouth go dry, your breathing getting a little short and heart beating a little faster. 

All because of the stress of meeting your boss here, of course. No other reason at all.

“Hello sir.” You say, finally finding your voice. Your head is in a state of chaos, your brain on a loop of everything going on with Namjoon’s outfit. 

“Rule #6 if I remember correctly; Relationships and dynamic with people you might know outside of these walls do not apply inside Club Dionysus.” Namjoon recites, eyes on your red bracelet. He takes a very small step back that doesn’t do anything for the lack of space between you. 

You would feel caged in, except he has his hands in his back.

You’re not exactly sure why he’s telling you that, although you vaguely remember Jung Hoseok mentioning this earlier. The confusion must show on your face, because Namjoon carries on.

“You don’t need to address me as sir here.” He says, his smile turning sharper. “That is… unless we’ve previously agreed upon that.” 

Oh. Oh.

There’s something happening here. A shift in the air. A glint in his eyes. 

You swallow, and it sounds ten times louder than usual, despite the soft background music.

“I- hm. Interesting.” You’ve probably never sounded so dumb, but you can’t think over the sirens going off in your head.

This is a weird situation. Something you were not expecting, not in a million years. And how could you? 

Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.

Unaware of your internal struggles, Namjoon snorts at your lack of response, looking...endeared? Is that the correct word? Is your obvious lack of brain cells endearing to him?

“I’m not your boss here, and you’re not my personal assistant.”

“Ehrm, I see. Should I call you Mr.Kim then?”

“If you wish to.” He says, looking particularly amused by your awkwardness.

Which, rude. This is a stressful place to meet your boss, how dare he.

“If I wish to, huh? So, I could choose to call you anything I’d like?” You can’t stop the slight flare of temper, not liking being made fun off. If he wants you to treat him as an equal, then treat him as an equal you will.

Namjoon nods once, his tongue quickly wetting his lips before adding, “Of course I will need to agree to it beforehand.”

You catch Taehyung from the corner of your eyes, waving at you from the bar with a question mark on his face. Namjoon follows your line of sight, focusing on your friend and frowning.

“Would you agree to being called ‘baby boy’, then?” you taunt, standing straighter than you have so far. 

He snaps his attention back to you, looking taken aback by the switch of demeanor.

You can’t stop your mind from conjuring the memory of those dreams, the one that wake you up in the middle of the night. Blurs of a long body tied to a bed, a diamond choker sparkling on his neck, a voice, usually hard, sounding soft and whimpery.

The wide eyed look Namjoon is giving you is pretty close to the one you usually see on his face during those short nighttime visits. 

“I-” He says, but stops, looking flustered. You feel a growing satisfaction at having reversed the roles.

The novelty of the situation, that left you feeling unsteady, is starting to subside, leaving you sure footed in your stilettos. 

You purse your lips, cocking a brow.

“Only if you agree, of course.”

You see his throat work, making his choker shift as he swallows once, then twice.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not allowed to take part in the events tonight,” You say, showing off your bracelet. “so I guess we should keep this discussion for next time.” You side step him, never breaking eye contact.

“After all, we need to talk about what you’re going to call me, too.” 

“In fact,” He finally says after a moment of silence, his earlier confidence replaced by something more tentative. “we should discuss it in great detail.” He finishes.

You smile in lieu of a response, before giving one last appreciative look to his attire, lingering on the black choker. You feel his eyes on you as you make your way back to the bar, already looking forward to next Friday.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Boot, Scoot and Boogie

Boot, Scoot and Boogie - Kidge Month Day 2 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: To try and increase her Charm skill, Pidge seeks out the help of a self-professed “Lover Boy”. His help ends up being a bit better than she had expected. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Lance took a deep breath, hands pressed together and eyes closed in thought, before peeking one eye to stare at the small, sandy haired girl before him. He then brought his hands down slowly and bopped them in the air lightly. "Okay, run this by me one more time. You want me to do what now?" He asked, opening both eyes wide enough that he was glowering at her suspiciously.

Meanwhile, Pidge shifted uncomfortable under his weary gaze. "You're really gonna make me ask again?"

"Yes. Because this is just... You have to be messing with me. You're trying to pull a prank on me, or I've fallen through a wormhole to an alternate reality, or-!" He prattled on, holding one hand up to start ticking off his fingers with each alternate explanation he had in his mind.

"Or I genuinely need help with this and you're the only person on the ship that knows how to waltz properly," She interrupted, a bit of a pink tint starting to come to her ears and cheeks.

He had to pause, finding that reaction to be rather interested. "... Kay. Sounds fake, but kay,"

"Look, if you're gonna be like this, just forget it! I'll find, like, a YouTube tutorial or something!" She snapped, throwing her hands up and turning to storm away.

"No, wait, hold up!" He called, floundering after her and gripping her wrist. She glared at him over her shoulder so he let go of her wrist, holding his hands up defensively. "Sorry, just needed you to give me a second, okay? Why do you want me to teach you? Give me the reason why - and I mean the real reason - and maybe I'll help."

She turned to face him fully, setting one hand on her hip. "Because I've never been taught how to before?" She huffed, sounding as if it should be obvious. When he only answered by crossing his arms a well-timed rise of a brow, she let her hand drop and her gaze flicker down to her boots. "Okay, fine. It's because... I want to ask Keith to dance at the celebratory gala."

"But you've danced with Keith before and never had an issue, haven’t you?" He asked, cocking his head. Pidge’s little crush on Keith wasn’t hard to figure out; especially for someone as emotionally inclined as Lance. To him, it made sense that at such a large event she’d have a desire to stake her claim. And considering what they’d heard about Acxa, who would be attending, and her feelings for Keith? Something would need to be done before the ex-general could make a move. But, then again, he swore he’d seen her approach him before at celebrations when they’d liberated planets before. So shouldn’t her interest have been made known already?

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Jokes on you; there has always been an issue. A me issue. Regarding my inability to not step on people’s feet. Which is probably why he always turns me down whenever I ask him," She said, voice going softer in disappointment.

"Oh," He said lamely.

"Yeah, oh. And I'm tired of it! I want to be able to dance with him without making an ass of myself!"

"Well, you've come to the right man," He said, tossing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her closer. "I'm one of the best dancers the Garrison. Teaching you will be a piece of cake."

"You're sure about that?" She asked skeptically.

He chuckled and nodded, pointing at himself with a jerk of his thumb. "I haven't met a single person I couldn't teach. Give me, like, two weeks and you'll be taking the floor like a champ!"

"Considering two weeks is all we have, I certainly hope so," She grumbled to herself.

In the end, Lance’s certainty proved to be less of a help than they’d thought.

The first day had been a struggle, but Lance figured that made sense. After all, Pidge hadn’t ever been properly taught how to waltz. Day Two would go much better and iron out some of the growing pains they’d had in the start, he was sure! Instead, however, it went just as bad as the first. By the end of the session, his feet had been stepped on so many times he couldn’t feel his left pinkie toe. He iced it that night and swore he was going to make sure things went better the next day. After all, it could just be nerves on Pidge’s part, right? Surely after two days of trying, she’d have calmed down with her new trainer and things could progress more easily.

Except that it didn’t. Not on the third day, nor the fourth. And then, the fifth day, he was starting to get a little frustrated by their lack of progress.

He breathed in deep and loud through his nose, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "Okay, that was a... Good effort. Now let's try it with a little bit less of the Stabbing-Lance's-Toes bit," He drawled, unable to keep his tone from getting a touch sarcastic.

Pidge’s eyes widened with hurt for a moment before narrowing into a scalding glare. "Forget it!" She snapped, tearing away from him and starting to leave.

Lance muttered a swear under his breath and chased after her. "Wait, Pidge, I’m sorry! I was just joking with you!" He sputtered as he darted in front of her, holding her hands up to halt her. She skid to a stop, looking ready to charge past him, but he swiped her water bottle off the nearby table and held it out to her. "Here, have some water and sit for a minute. We'll try again after a little rest."

"What's the point, Lance? The week's almost over and I'm not any better at this. Do you really think I'll be able to get this right with what little time we have left?"

"Well not with that attitude, you won't," He said evenly. She glared again before moving to walk around him, but he was fast to slide along and cut her off again. "Pidge, seriously. Just sit and hear me out for a couple minutes, will ya?"

She stared him down for a moment before swiping her water bottle from him, taking a swig, and nodding her head at him. "You've got three,"

"That's more than enough," He said before nodding his head back over to the table. She settled in at one seat and he settled in across from her. "Look, I get it. Learning new things and not being good at them right away can be frustrating. If anyone gets what failing feels like, I'm kinda the expert around here, ya know? But you don't give up. You keep pushing and you tell yourself 'You got this' and if you mess up, you take that and you learn from it. And then you don't typically make the same mistake! And then, as long as you keep trying, you'll get it!" He reassured, offering her a small smile.

"I guess you're right," She mumbled, hands playing with her water bottle as she slumped back against her chair, "but it just feels hopeless right now."

"Well, maybe this means we need to have a change of tactics," He said while pushing himself back out of the chair.

She set her water bottle down and looked up at him. "What does that mean?"

"Allow me to show you, dear Pidgeon," He said playfully, offering her his hand.

......................................................................

Despite resources being limited, the Garrison had still done their best to set up a flashy arrangement. It was a suit-and-tie kind of event, as best as they could. It was mostly just dress shirts, vests, black slacks and prom-style dresses, but it was still nice. The aliens that had started to crop up to help with the rebuilding of the planet had also helped to make sure that the whole place was decorated to match the theme they were going for.

It was the perfect event for espionage.

"Okay, I have the target locked in my sights; he's loitering over by the refreshment stand like a wet noodle," Lance said, one eye closed as he scooped out the area, keying in on the subject in question, as well as another figure chatting with them.

"Is the subject alone?" Pidge asked beside him.

He lifted one hand and made a motion towards the two figures to the third member of their recon squad. He caught a quick salute in response to his own gesture and felt a satisfied smirk turn up on his lips. "No, but we have Sunshine Daffodil on it," He said proudly. He watched as the final member of their team chatted up the individual with their target, implementing some kind of brilliant plan to coerce them away. "And, the target has been isolated! Remember your training protocol, Grinning Gremlin, and you'll complete this mission flawlessly."

She saluted him back as she started to walk away. "Thank you, Baby Shark. I'm going in,"

"Excel- Wait a minute! That wasn't the code name I picked! Get back here, you cheeky little-!" He tried to call after her.

Instead, however, she merely scampered her way over to their team leader. "Hey, Keith!" 

He perked up. "Hmm? Oh, hey, Pidge," He said, smiling and then glancing up and down at her. He chuckled a bit and nodded his head at her outfit. "I see you opted out of the dress option."

"Oh, yeah. I just thought that... Well, you know," She said with a giggle, looking down at the green vest and black dress shirt she’d opted in to.

"The suit would be more functional?" He prompted.

"Exactly! Just in case, you know, something happened," She said with a little shrug.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I really doubt anything will happen. Sendak's long gone and the Galra that followed him have fallen apart without a proper leader. You shouldn’t worry so much about something happening and try to relax a little bit,"

She reached over and pressed her hand to his forehead. "Are you sick or something? I mean, Keith Kogane, talking about relaxing?"

"Call it an awakening, if you want," He chuckled, gently pressing her hand away from him. He glanced back out at the crowd all around them, smile faltering slightly. "Still not a big fan of stuff like this myself, though."

"No fond memories of your Sadie Hawkins dance?" She asked with a teasing jab into his side.

He chuckled. “I think in order to have fond memories of an event, you need to actually attend it, right?"

"You mean to tell me that nobody asked you?" She asked suspiciously. She found that hard to believe. Even Keith as he used to be - moody and edgy and prickly - would have appealed to his dewy-eyed peers.

He rubbed at the back of his neck shyly, a tick she’d noticed he’d picked up from Hunk. "Some asked, but after I never said yes to anyone, everyone that wanted to decided to stop wasting their time,"

Well, now I'm a little less offended that you've always turned me down," She commented, being careful to hedge any passive aggression from her tone. He flinched a little bit at her words, though, which left her a little worried. “Were you just not interested in them or...?"

"No, I just... Had other reasons," He said, speaking too fast at first before trailing off uneasily.

"Such as?" She pressed, leaning over a bit to try and get a look at his face.

He turned away, a faint blush on his cheeks and his eyes fixed across the room. "I really don't want to say,"

"Aw, come on! It's just little ole’ me you're telling," She said with a playful grin. She then jerked her head over to where they could see Lance, chatting it up with Allura and Romelle. "And if it makes you feel better, I promise not to tell Lance; even if he offers me a sick bribe for those juicy deets."

"Good to know you're so easily bought," He quipped sarcastically, casting her with a sideways glance. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, though, which gave her confidence a little boost

"What can I say? It's a dog eat dog world," She mused before gently poking his shoulder. "Now spill the beans, Kogane."

He sighed, dipping his head and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "Fine. The truth is.. Well," He said, gaze shifting between her and the crowd on the dance floor uneasily, "I can't dance."

She could practically hear the squeal of tires in her mind at his words, her train of thought completely derailing at such an unexpected omission. "Wait, what?"

He rubbed his neck again and sighed loudly, tapping the heel of one foot against the tile as well. "Yeah. It's kind of embarrassing since, you know, everyone else kinda knows how to," He said, indicating the dance floor. Coran could be seen trying to show Griffin and Kinkade some strange, traditional Altean dance that reminded her a lot of polka, the young young humans completely befuddled. Shiro was slowly swaying on the floor with another member of the Atlus crew, the two moving in a little circle and chatting quietly between themselves. Lance had coaxed Allura out on to the floor, both of them laughing as he twirled her, while Hunk was helping show Shay the steps along the outskirts of the dance floor. "Pops never saw a point in putting me in dance classes since I wasn't really interested. And when the school I went to held that class, I usually cut to go sit on the roof and think. Have some time away from all the other kids, since I thought they were kind of annoying. Then again, they probably thought the same about me, so it's kinda fair."

She stared at him for a moment before looking back out at the crowd, a small part of her feeling incredibly amused. She could tell by how he was acting that he was being genuine, but something about it felt like comedic irony. She had just spent two weeks of her life, frantically trying to learn how to dance because she thought that was what was preventing her from getting him to take the floor with her. To find out that it wasn’t because he’d heard what a bad partner she was, but more because he himself wasn’t the best at cutting a rug?

She squared her shoulders and looked up at him, eyes gleaming with determination. She held one hand out towards him. "Come on,"

He looked down at her in surprise, eyes flittering from her hand to her face, clearly confused by her sudden burst. "Huh?"

She nudged her hand closer to him and then indicated the dance floor with a jerk of her head. "Come out and dance with me,"

"Pidge, that's a really bad idea," He said uneasily, holding his hands up defensively.

Instead of listening to him, though, she grabbed his hand and started dragging him along. "No, it's not. Come on," She said seriously.

"Wait, Pidge!" He sputtered frantically, tripping over his feet behind her. How was it such a small thing could drag him around like a stuffed toy on a playground?

"Just relax and follow my lead and it'll all be fine, okay?" She skid to a stop in the center of the floor, turning around to face him. She took his hand in her own before placing his other hand on her hip and settling hers on his shoulder. It took a moment, but soon enough she had him following her steps. At first, it was a little awkward and they needed a bit more space from the other dancers, but after the first song, he seemed to pick up on her rhythm. She preened up at him as the next song started up. "See? I told you it'd be fine."

"Oh, wow. You're really-! Oh, shit, sorry!" He said, starting out with a small laugh, and then cutting himself off when he stepped on her toes, moving his foot forward when he should have gone back.

She took in a deep breath, forcing herself to swallow down the pain and stay calm. "I-It's fine. I did the same thing to Lance all last week,"

He hesitated in his next step, but caught back up relatively quickly. "Wait, what?"

"This is gonna sound really silly,” She said, it being her turn to laugh and avert her eyes nervously, “but... I thought the reason you never wanted to dance with me was because you heard about how I had a lead foot that tended to crush my partner's toes. So, I asked Lance to teach me how to waltz properly, so that I could ask you without the risk of injury." She looked back at him and offered a small, shy smile at his stunned look.  "It worked out, though. Turns out my problem was that I was always trying to lead, even though I didn't know how to. Once he figured that out, teaching me got way more streamlined."

"It took him a whole week to figure that out?" He asked in slight surprise.

"He said he figured it out after the second day, but that he thought he could work around it. Evidently, he could when we implemented a chance of tactics!" She explained happily.

"Wow. Guess I need to give him a little more credit," He said with a small nod.

Pidge’s grin turned more mischievous. "Maybe we'll have to set you up for Lover Boy Lance's Dance course next," SHe teased

The look he gave her screamed murder and only dragged a peal of laughter out of her. "I'll step on your toes on purpose if you keep that up. And I'm significantly bigger than you are, so it'd probably do way more damage than your baby bird feet," He threatened with a scowl. There was a spark of mirth in his violet eyes, however, that ruined the attempted intimidation.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," She hummed, making a grand show of twirling and then dipping him. She gave him a wink as he stared up at her, brimming with pride as color flooded his cheeks.

[cheeseeatingtrashmonster]

Be My Lois Lane (Marichat May) Chapter 2: Greek

Okay, so I know the prompt is actually "Greek AU", but this is already an AU, so uh... This is what I've got XD

@marichatmay 

Ao3

"Dude! Did you see?"

Nino shoved a newspaper into Adrien's hands before he had fully turned his chair to face him.

"See what?" Adrien flattened the paper on the counter of his dressing room vanity and the question answered itself.

"I got a picture of Chat Noir in action! And it made the front page! Look, that's my name right there!"

Adrien stared at his face looking back at him. How had he missed Nino with a camera? He had never been photographed this close, this clearly before. He had been so careful for the past year. If he had been paying attention, he could have turned so his back was to the camera easily enough.

"I found out I actually know the girl he saved. She's my girlfriend's best friend."

She was the problem. Something about her had caught his attention and kept it. It wasn't how done she was with the villain; he had encountered that attitude often enough. It wasn't her cute outfit or stunningly blue eyes; he worked in fashion, surrounded by pretty people in pretty clothes. But for some reason, he hadn't been looking for cameras as he saved her.

"So? What do you think?"

Adrien looked up and smiled. He could be happy for his friend and freak out simultaneously. "I think I need to take you out for celebratory drinks when this fashion show is over."

Nino chatted away about the picture for a bit longer before he had to leave to set up his camera equipment for the show that night. He reached for the paper to take it with him. Adrien dropped his hand down on it, pinning it in place.

"Actually, can I keep this copy?"

Nino's grin was contagious. "Sure, bro. I grabbed a few. I'm kinda flattered you like it that much."

Adrien looked down at the woman clinging to him in the picture, her eyes shut and nose scrunched up, but her arms holding strong around him.

"I think you really captured them."

Nino left, and Adrien leaned his elbow on the counter, staring at the hero action shot. What was it about the lady in his arms?

And was there any way to see her again?

&&

"It's too late to disguise yourself now, M."

Marinette had wrapped a scarf around her head, worn a giant, bulky sweater to hide her shape, and had sunglasses on inside the newspaper office. They were sitting in the conference room, stirring their coffees and waiting for everyone else to show up for the weekly morning staff meeting where Marinette and a couple other interns were to be officially promoted.

"If Nino didn't recognize me before handing the picture off to your boss, then this should be the perfect disguise. No one at the paper has to know that 'Chat Noir saves young woman' is me."

Alya plucked Marinette's sunglasses off her face and tucked them in the pocket of her flannel. "I dunno, you've got a pretty noticeable face. And it's good publicity for the paper, too. You know, the place that signs your paycheck?"

"But it's my face! Don't I get to control when and how my face is used?"

"Did you read what you signed when you started working here? They can use our image or likeness at any point so long as it reflects well on the paper, basically."

Marinette groaned. "I knew that joining you in journalism until I get my clothing lines off the ground was a bad idea."

"Well, it's too late now. In a few minutes, you'll be Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Junior Fashion Reporter."

"Yeah, such a giant leap up from fact checker and coffee fetcher."

"You do fetch a mean coffee."

Marinette walked over to fiddle with her basket of muffins in the center of the table refreshments table. "You, Junior Super Hero Reporter; Foreign Hero Activity, abused your power over us lowly interns, and once we're equals and I'm settled at my desk, I'm making sure the whole office knows of your cruelty."

"Equals in job description only," Alya said. "I have seniority on my side, still."

Bridgette, the head of the paper, poked her head in the conference room. "Marinette? Could you come with me for a moment?"

Marinette exchanged a look with Alya before following Bridgette down the hall to her office. Marinette's heart dropped when Bridgette closed the door.

"How are you doing?" Bridgette asked, gesturing for Marinette to sit in the chair across her desk.

"Fine. A little embarrassed that Nino managed to get a picture of one of my most embarrassing moments."

Bridgette waved a hand at that. "You did nothing embarrassing. The man in the spandex suit made to look like a banana peel, on the other hand, he should feel embarrassed." She frowned and leaned forward. "But you're okay? You're not hurt? An experience like that can be really scary. If you need some time off-"

"Oh, no, I'm fine, really!" She slid her headscarf down around her neck. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Bridgette said.

"Is something else wrong? Because I get the feeling something else is wrong."

Bridgette smiled, but there was something behind it that added to the feeling that something was about to happen. "That's what I like about you, Dupain-Cheng. You're quick. You have excellent instincts. You follow your gut. That's why I knew, even with minimal writing experience, that you would be a good fit here." She paused to take a breath. "I have some bad news, some kinda-nice news, and something to try to make up for the bad news."

Marinette's heart, which had been sinking since Bridgette called her away, settled with a dull thunk deep in her gut. "I'm not getting promoted to Junior Fashion Reporter, am I?"

&&

Marinette lowered herself into her seat next to Alya and did her best not to give in to the desire to just slump forward and let her upper body dangle over her knees like a limp cloth doll. It wasn't even eight in the morning and already she felt drained.

"What happened?" Alya whispered as Bridgette started the meeting. Marinette shook her head and turned to stare at the front of the room, absorbing nothing.

"-And welcome to the staff, our newest Junior Reporter, Chloe Bourgeois. She will be in the Fashion Department. I am also-"

A blonde woman with a ponytail (and too much attitude for anyone over the age of fifteen) stood, cutting Bridgette off in the middle of her sentence. "Hello! I'm sure most of you know who I am, but for any of you who are new to town, I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of the mayor. Of Paris. My father has always been a great supporter of the press, and I hope to continue to support his vision for how the Daily Planet can improve in-"

"Thank you, Chloe," Bridgette said, slapping her hand down on the podium but with a tense smile firmly pasted across her face. "As I was saying, please congratulate our very own Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her hard work, dedication, and proven writing skill have earned her the position of Junior Reporter in our award-winning Superhero Department."

Marinette had the feeling that the skills Bridgette listed had less to do with how Bridgette saw her, and more with what she saw Chloe to be lacking.

When the meeting ended, Marinette mechanically collected the baskets that had held her muffins. Other interns and reporters congratulated her, and she did her best to respond like she didn't have a small tornado ripping through the landscape of her mind. She was working her way through another awkward, "Thank you, I'm excited to contribute," when a hand latched onto her arm, pulling her away and shouting something to the person with whom Marinette had been talking.

"M! What is going on?"

Marinette looked around and found she was in a supply closet with Alya. "I didn't know we had so many types of pens."

Alya looked around the room, then back at Marinette. "You were an intern. You were never sent to grab stuff from this supply closet?"

"I guess not."

Alya shook her head, then pushed her glasses back into place. "Marinette, what happened to your promotion? Who is this Chloe girl who has your job?"

Marinette laughed, finally, fully coming back to herself. "'My job.' Oh, Alya, I have a feeling I'm going to miss the intern days."

"Girl!"

Marinette sighed. "Okay, this is off the record, and you can't let anyone know you know. Especially Bridgette. Okay?"

Alya tucked her pen behind her ear and stuck her phone in her back pocket. The Alya gesture of 'I'm not writing anything down or recording it. This is between us.’

"The mayor called in a lot of favors to get his precious little girl her dream job. So the Fashion Reporter job was taken, and they don't have the budget for two Junior Reporters in Fashion right now. Because of the timing of the Chat Noir picture, Bridgette and Nadja decided it would be best to give me the promotion, even if it's not the department I want. I'm now the official reporter on all things Chat Noir."

"Aw, Marinette." Alya threw her arms around her. "That sucks! I know how much you wanted this, how hard you worked for it."

Marinette hugged her back, resting her head on Alya's shoulder for a few seconds. "Thanks. It's not all bad, though. You and I get to work in the same department. Nadja is a family friend, so I already know how my boss acts and thinks. And..."

Alya pulled away, squinting at the lighter tone Marinette had taken. "And?"

"And Bridgette felt a little guilty, and wants to make sure I stay until a position opens up in Fashion, so I negotiated a slightly bigger raise than she originally offered. I make almost as much as you, now."

Alya fist bumped her. "Alright! Good for you, girl."

Marinette shrugged but smiled. "Thanks. I guess I'm just doing what I can with what I've got."

Alya hugged her again. "Well, I'm glad it's not all bad. But, would you turn down a little cheering up anyway?"

Marinette shook her head. "I don't trust your definition of 'cheering up,' Alya Cesaire. I'm still bruised from 'cheering up' Alix last month."

"Really?" Alya pulled something from her pocket. "What if I said we could spend the evening looking at some individuals who could put Greek gods to shame?"

[ohmytheon]

Killer Queen (Rebelcaptain, 3)

I’m alive and so is this fic. Naturally, when I start to feeling a little better, the first thing I do is finish a chapter for a fanfic. I needed a pick me up. Granted, it’s probably not my best work since I’m still suffering from mild dehydration, but it’s longer than expected. Here’s some plot – and then an excuse to build on the UST because I’m weak. Literally. I had a dress picked out, but then my computer went haywire and I lost it. Blah.

Summary: When the FBI gets a tip that someone is planning to sabotage the Miss America Pageant, Special Agent Cassian Andor finally gets the chance to run his first op. And the problem? The only agent capable of pulling off the undercover aspect of the op is his less than enthusiastic, moody, aggressive partner, Special Agent Jyn Erso. Even worse? While she’s struggling with the terror of high heels, dresses, beautiful women, and a severe lack of carbs, he’s coming to a few very unexpected realizations about the woman that he’s been working alongside for years.

killer queen chapter three

Right off the bat, Cassian could tell that Jyn was more at ease in this element. She’d managed to slip away from the other contestants so that they could go over what they’d gathered so far. With Imwe and Malbus out of sight, she could be an FBI agent again or at least closest to herself as possible. There was no dress in sight. This late at night, she was in shorts and a tank top, the thin bathrobe she’d worn earlier discarded on the bed. No makeup, though he could tell that she’d moisturized as Imwe instructed, and her hair was loose and still wet from a shower.

She looked very much like the Jyn Erso he’d worked with for years and yet somehow different as well. He couldn’t put a finger on it and that bothered him. Her personality certainly hadn’t changed. If anything, it had become even edgier since this op had started. So what was it?

When he’d brought out a package of oreos for her, he had been concerned that she might cry – and then he was scared that she’d choke with the way that she was inhaling them. On more than one occasion had she paused to revel in them, closing her eyes, sighing, and actually smiling.

“They’re just cookies, Jyn,” he pointed out with a grin.

“No, this is what heaven tastes like,” Jyn insisted. “I’ve missed these glorious, empty calories.”

“Just don’t rat me out to Imwe or I’ll never hear the end of it,” Cassian told her.

Jyn clutched the cookies to her chest and mock-gasped. “And ruin this cookie smuggling operation? Never.”

He had not forgotten how much she treasured her sweets. Whenever they had gone on stakeouts, she had been notorious about packing all the sugary snacks. He tried to be healthy for the most part, opting for salty when he strayed, but not his partner. She acted as if she’d been denied sweets her entire childhood and was trying to make up for it as an adult.

Setting the cookies aside, Jyn began to pick through the notes that they’d gathered during the past few weeks. One thing was for certain: while she was a mess in most of her life, she was very attentive to details during missions. He had known that she wouldn’t let him down. While pissed off about the whole ordeal, she was going the extra mile. He couldn’t help but think that it was because this was his first time running the op. They may have argued and had their fair share of contradicting work ethics, but they worked very well together. He’d seen partnerships go down in flames before, but theirs had been strong almost from the get go.

She might want to punch him for what he’d asked of her, but she wasn’t going to let that affect the mission.

“So the first suspect is your new friend and roommate,” Cassian announced.

“Leia?” Jyn shook her head. “I mean, I know she’s determined to win, but I think killing the competition is a little over the top.”

“Her history says ‘a little over the top’ is just her style,” Cassian said as he handed over a file to her.

While she had been busy with the undercover aspect of the mission, he’d been compiling background information on everyone involved in the beauty pageant, including the contestants. They couldn’t be sure who was behind the bomb threat. If they could get a plant in this competition, who was to say someone else couldn’t? The fact that she was around a dangerous person at all times without any idea of who it was sat uncomfortably with him. Whenever he went undercover, he knew who the dangerous people were: all of them.

Better the danger you know than the danger you don’t.

Jyn’s eyebrows raised. “This is…unexpected.”

“Yeah, normally, the kind of dirt on a senator’s daughter would be partying or maybe possession,” Cassian replied, “but Miss New York has a history of some very serious protesting.”

“How has this not been caught before?” Jyn asked as she sorted through the pictures.

“Well, for the most part, she’s very open about her involvement,” Cassian explained. “She’s very passionate about these things and uses her name and face to get the word out. She’s careful, too. Shows her face at all these events, gives multiple speeches, great sound clips and quotes.” He paused her search through the file to pinpoint a few things. “She’s a little more…undercover for the riskier events.”

“You think this is her?” Jyn asked, pointing to a figure in one picture. The person was darting through tear gas wearing a bandana, hat, and sunglasses. It could’ve been Jyn herself for all it looked.

“She’s good,” Cassian admitted, “but I’d like to think I’m better.” Jyn whistled and then continued perusing the pictures, locking in on the figures circled in each one. “No one was seriously hurt in these endeavours, but people were arrested and questioned. They’re a loyal crowd though. Nothing was pointed at her.”

Jyn snorted. “Well, I guess this is one way at achieving world peace.”

“We’re also looking at the MC,” Cassian continued.

“Ugh, good, now there’s a suspect I can get behind,” Jyn said as she took the new file from him. “The man’s a sleeze. He’s outdated, pompous, and thinks he’s the star of the show.”

“And yet I bet he doesn’t look half as good in a bikini as you,” Cassian quipped.

Jyn’s eyes flickered up to his briefly, but she didn’t say anything before returning to the file. To be honest, he was kind of grateful. He had no idea why that had come out of his mouth. Normally, he was excellent at thinking before saying things, seeing as how it was sometimes a life or death situation, but that had come out of nowhere. Even worse, now he was left thinking of what Jyn did look like in a bikini. The swimsuit part of the competition was coming up. He supposed he’d find out. Not that it mattered or anything. She looked good now.

“They’re firing him?” Jyn looked up. “He told everyone that he was retiring after this year’s pageant.”

“There have been a few complaints lodged against him that he can’t dodge anymore.” Cassian wiped at the bottom of his face. He’d need to shave soon. He just always forgot. “It’s been kept very hush-hush so lawyers aren’t brought in, but he’s kicking up a fuss and made a few threatening comments.”

“Let me guess,” Jyn drawled. “The show can’t go on without him? He created this? It’s his baby? I know he’s been attached to this for longer than we’ve been alive, but do you think he’d kill for it?”

Cassian shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve known men to kill for less perceived slights.”

“This is absurd,” Jyn huffed as she stood up, snapping the file shut and tossing it back on the table with the rest. There were a few more possible suspects that they had to sort through, but those were the two most promising. “All this drama for a show about dressing up women like dolls on a shelf.”

She hated it. She hated every second of it. She and Imwe were at each other’s throats every time he tried to teach her something new. The talent part of the competition had gone surprisingly well. The outfit that she’d been put in though had nearly caused the fight of the century. If not for Malbus jumping in between the two of them and Cassian snatching Jyn around the waist to pull her back, it could’ve gotten very ugly. The sparkling cheerleading get up had looked like a mixture of a pervert’s wet dream and a Barbie outfit, but it worked alongside all of the other contestants’ absurd outfits.

But he knew that if he apologized, if he tried to say anything that might sound like pity, Jyn would snap at him faster than a viper. He never complained when he was forced to get his hands dirty while undercover; he knew that she would be furious with him if he so much as hinted that he thought she believed she was having it worse than he ever did. But he did feel bad. There was putting someone in a dangerous situation for a job and then there was putting someone in a situation that made them very much uncomfortable and upset. The first was normal for them; the second honestly was not.

“Ugh, can’t I just stay here – with you and the cookies?” Jyn flopped back onto one of the beds. “I like Leia and all, but it feels nice to just…get out of there. I can just sleep right here and be back before dawn.”

“Then where would I sleep?” Cassian pointed out. “That’s my bed.”

Jyn pointed to the other bed. “Take that one.”

“Uh, no, that’s Agent Kay’s, and he is not one for sharing.”

“The floor then.”

“You’d consider me sharing a bed with Kay and the floor before you sharing a bed with me?” Cassian asked. “That’s so kind of you after I brought you contraband.”

At that, Jyn propped herself up on her forearms and stared at him. “You wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with me?”

Cassian narrowed his eyes at her, locking them in a dead stare. Was she trying to goad him or was she just asking him a question? He couldn’t tell. Jyn typically wore her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see. He’d gotten exceptional at reading her, even when she was doing her best to hide. It came with being good at being unreadable himself. But this undercover gig was giving her a chance at practicing all the things that came natural to him. Imwe was basically teaching her how to pretend, which in turn made it more difficult for Cassian to figure out what was going on in her head.

“Whatever, I can’t do anything that would make Leia question me,” Jyn sighed disappointedly as she sat up the rest of the way and dragged herself off of the bed. “We’ve got a free night tomorrow, which means girl’s night out apparently. I’ll try to get something out of Leia thanks to the truth serum that is alcohol.”

And with that, she snatched her bathrobe and was gone. Cassian leaned back in his seat and scratched the back of his head, looking at the bed. The comforter was still indented slightly from where she’d been laying. For some reason, he just knew that it was going to cause him problems tonight.

*

A girl’s night out should not have been nerve-wracking and yet it was. Jyn was putting herself out there. Gathering information directly from a suspect’s or criminal’s mouth was dangerous. One wrong word, one push too many, and the person could become suspicious. It was like a game of chess. You had to anticipate how the other person would react before making a move. You had to be careful, subtle, delicate.

Jyn’s typical tactics were none of those things.

They’d gone to bars before while on ops, but nothing like this. The other guys on surveillance duty had been practically frothing at the women to the point where he’d been forced to sit them all down and give them a talking to like they were teenage boys. Honestly, he didn’t know what was wrong with them. Yeah, the women’s dresses were almost all short and tight, but it wasn’t like none of them had never seen a woman before.

And then Cassian nearly choked on his coffee when Jyn came into view.

There was no way in hell that she was comfortable wearing a dress that short. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of her tugging at the hemline to no avail. Her hair was down, soft brown waves trailing over her shoulders and down her back. He could tell that she’d done her own makeup; it was a lot more natural than what the stylists did to her for the competition. She looked great though, if not a bit intimidating in his opinion, like the kind of girl you’d seen at a bar and want to approach but would think twice about it. Then again, that was Jyn naturally to a t.

One of the guys whistled. “Damn, Andor, your partner is hot.”

Cassian shot the agent a look that told him under no circumstances was he to ever utter those words again. It shut the guy right up and he sunk back in in his seat.

The plan for the night was simple. A few taxis were taking a handful of the girls to the nearest night club where they could drink the night away and let loose for a bit. They didn’t have anything going on until tomorrow night, so none of them seemed too concerned. After some drinking, Jyn would attempt to carefully needle Leia Organa for information concerning her more intense activist proclivities. The hope was that if Leia got suspicious of Jyn’s questions, Jyn could play off as a talkative drunk. Which she wasn’t. She tended to get quiet when she drank; he just hoped she wouldn’t fall into that mood.

Meanwhile, Cassian and a small team would follow them in a surveillance vehicle. They had bugs planted and the earpiece Jyn was wearing so that they would be able to hear what was going on. Two agents would be inside the club so that they could keep a visual on the targets since all of their video equipment was centered around the hotel and backstage. Cassian had decided to stay inside the truck. He would’ve liked to have been out in the field, but it was best if he stayed back and coordinated.

As the women slipped into the club, music started to take over the mics, but luckily they could still hear things. He had worried that it might get too loud, but Jyn’s voice carried through clearly and they’d planted enough bugs so that they could sort through multiple conversations.

“Alright, ladies, let’s do some shots!” a woman, Miss Texas from the sound of it, called.

“Uh, shots? Seems a little excessive.” That was Jyn. She was the clearest. He’d never known her to turn down a shot.

“Oh, honey, it gets you more bang for its buck,” Miss South Carolina pointed out. “Plus, less calories. All that juice in this mixed drinks gets you in the end, so much sugar.”

All of them had fully expected the girls to order the girliest drinks, but it appeared as if none of them were even considering it. A few ordered vodka waters, but besides that, it was shots. No beer. Jyn was probably melting on the inside from being so close and yet so far. At least she could drink bourbon, seeing as how Miss Kentucky would take nothing less than bourbon or moonshine. The girls cheered and started the night. It began to dissolve after that as groups were made and the agents set to work to listening in and waiting. It was going to be a long night.

About an hour in, he could tell that some of the men were getting restless. Nothing of import was being said. Mostly it was just women talking about men, other contestants, and swapping some absolutely wild stories that were entertaining and eyebrow-raising but essentially useless. Jyn meandered her way through most of them, speaking every now and then, but mainly listening herself. She was having trouble fitting in. He could feel her spiraling on the other end, stressing out that she couldn’t make proper contact.

“C’mon, Jyn, you got this,” Cassian muttered to himself.

He didn’t think she could’ve heard him, but then there she was, loud as can be, on the other end. “Leia, how about another round?”

“Think you can keep up with me, Kansas?” Leia taunted.

“What else is there to do there, you think?” Jyn countered and the two women laughed. He heard Jyn order them another round of drinks, vodka waters with lime, and then push their way back to the table. “So what about you? Get up to a lot of partying up in New York?”

“Not unless you count dinner parties and fundraisers,” Leia replied. “Being a senator’s daughter can be a real bore. You can’t do much of anything in case it’ll cause a scandal.”

“You don’t seem like you’re afraid of pushing the envelope,” Jyn pointed out.

“Oh, what makes you say that?”

“Well, it takes a certain kind of person to get involved with protests against Wall Street and big banks when their father probably gets money from them and they tend to donate to these kinds of competitions.”

Cassian leaned forward in his seat. “Careful, Jyn, careful. Less bulldozer.”

There was a brief pause from Leia. “It can complicate things. The pageants are a double-edge sword. On one hand, they give me more fame so I can use it to get more messages out. On the other, people don’t take me seriously because they see me as just some pretty beauty queen.”

“Sounds like the kind of thing that would make someone do something drastic to be heard.”

“Don’t just ask her right out if she plans to bomb the pageant!” Cassian hissed.

“What are you saying?” Leia questioned.

“Nothing,” Jyn replied flippantly, “I just know how it is. To work so hard and be passionate about something that makes up a huge part of who you are and not be taken seriously because I’m a woman or just a pretty face. It sucks. It’s like a punch to the gut.”

Leia let out a sigh. “You’re right. All I want to do is help people and do some good with what I’ve been given. But I’m either too young, too attractive, or too…”

“Bitchy?”

“Yeah!” There was the sound of ice rattling. Leia must’ve finished her drink already. “I want to go into politics like my father, but now I have to worry if my decision to do these beauty pageants like my mother wanted might hinder that future. They’ve given me a platform without resorting to using my father’s name, but it feels like they’ve hurt me as well. I’m going to Yale, for god’s sake, but people just see me as some dumb pageant girl.”

“It’s not fair,” Jyn said, almost sounding just as angry. “All of this – it isn’t who we are. It’s just a part of us. But all men can see are a pair of smooth legs and boobs and everything we’ve accomplished goes to the wayside.”

Was that what Jyn really thought? Was that why she went out of her way to hide everything about her appearance? So that she wouldn’t be judged? She did make herself appear as more masculine, perhaps as a way to compensate for the fact that she was pretty. She’d done an excellent job. None of the agents had even considered her for the undercover aspect. It had been by accident that her name had come up on the computer.

Even worse, he could recall on more than two hands the times that other agents had called her a “bitch” or worse. It never phased her; she wore it like a badge of honor. It had always pissed him off, but he’d never said anything about it either. He trusted her; he appreciated her work ethic; and he knew that she was a damn good agent. Nothing else mattered. But had he been guilty too in some way? Of ignoring a part of who she was? He just saw the agent sometimes, his partner, that he tended to forget that she was also a woman.

Now it was something that none of them could ignore. This competition had forced it upon all of them, maybe even her. She was a woman. He’d reacted to it, no matter how much he tried to deny it. The other guys had too. He had noticed a few changes. The men weren’t as afraid of her as before and a few had even talked over her or outright ignored what she said. He had recognized the murderous look on her face immediately, but she had bit her tongue instead of lashing out like usual. She was saving it for later, most likely, once this mission was over. More than a few people were going to regret how they acted.

“Let’s get another drink,” Leia decided, snapping Cassian out of his thoughts. “Screw men!”

Jyn laughed. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Cassian cleared his throat. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave it at that?”

“Patience, Cassian,” Jyn grumbled over the listening device.

“You’re lecturing me on patience now?” Cassian questioned.

“Kestral, how about a shot?” Leia’s distant voice called.

“You need to press her for more,” Cassian insisted.

Jyn practically growled on the other end. “You know what? I can’t do this with you in my ear. Neither one of us were made for girl talk.” And with that, the sound of her plucking the earpiece out came over the speakers.

“What are you–?” Cassian jumped to his feet. “Jyn. Jyn!” There was a plunking sound and then the line crackled and went dead. She’d dropped her earpiece into a drink, effectively cutting them off from her. She was offline. He jerked his headphones off and tossed them onto the table. “Damnit!”

“I mean, what can we really do?” one of the guys asked. “It’s just a bunch of girl talk.”

“She could be having ‘girl talk’ with a potential bomber,” Cassian snapped, shutting the guy up. How could she have done this? No, no, he knew. She thought he didn’t trust her to complete the mission. Maybe she thought he believed she had gone soft after all the feminine changes. He rubbed the bottom of his face. He did trust her. He knew she could do what needed to be done.

So he did what she wanted him to do: he waited. But if she didn’t make contact in an hour, he was going to have to do something.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been aware how excruciating the hour would be. He spent the time listening in on the other devices and checking with the agents that were stationed inside, but it felt like the minutes were crawling. Deep down, he knew that Jyn was safe. He’d been in much worse situations while under radio silence; he’d even had his cover blown and his wire found. Still, he just didn’t like the idea of her being alone in a situation that he knew she found uncomfortable. He was her partner; he was supposed to have her back.

Once the hour was up, Cassian stood up and began to take off his tie. “I’m going in.”

“Sir?”

“It won’t be for long,” Cassian said. “I just want to touch base.”

He threw the tie over the back of his chair and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. Once that was taken care of, he ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a careless toss. Jyn always made fun of him for wearing his uniform even when doing surveillance, but he’d always been taught that the first step to being something was looking the part. With just a few adjustments though, he looked as if he was planning on a night out.

After jumping out of the van, Cassian walked over to the club. It was late, so the line to get in wasn’t that long. The bouncer at the front didn’t even blink at him when he stepped inside. The scruff on his face made it quite obvious that he was old enough to drink. It took a second to adjust to the loud music and the flashing lights, but once he did, he spotted the girls almost instantly. They weren’t difficult to find. A group of very attractive young women wearing their best clubbing outfits, dancing, laughing, having fun. Any straight guy would have to be an idiot to not notice them.

Jyn was near the edges, but she wasn’t alone. There was Leia, along with Miss Georgia, Miss Kentucky, and Miss Washington. All of them had a drink in their hand and were dancing while talking. Jyn’s cheeks were pink and there was a fresh glow about her, but she wasn’t sulking like she normally did when she drank. In fact, the grin on her face looked very much genuine. His heart slowed upon seeing her safe, instantly reassured, but that didn’t mean he was going to just let it go.

He got a drink and sipped on it at the bar while he looked around until he saw his opening. A man approached Miss Kentucky and pulled her out onto the dance floor with him. Cassian knew that it wouldn’t be much longer before other men braved up and did the same now that one had done it. He finished his drink, set it down on the bar, and weaved his way through the crowd towards them. Just before another man could step in, Cassian cut him off and appeared before Jyn.

“How about a dance?” he asked.

Jyn’s eyebrows shot up, very much surprised at seeing him, but she didn’t push him away. She hadn’t expected him to show up, but she wasn’t as mad as he’d worried she’d be. Instead, her grin took an impish turn and she looked at the girls around her. “What do you say? Should I give the man a dance?”

“He looks determined,” Miss Georgia giggled. “A lot braver than all the other guys you’ve scared off all night.”

Cassian gave Jyn an easy smile, one that told her she could say no if she liked. Her eyes flashed to him again, sizing him up. When her eyes roved over him, he almost squirmed for some reason, but held his ground. She was quite intimidating, in more ways than one. He’d seen her force men to back down with just a look. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders and took his hand, allowing him to guide her onto the dancefloor. Immediately, he spun her around, catching her off guard, so that her back was pressed against his chest.

“Quite the stunt you pulled,” Cassian murmured in her ear.

Jyn leaned her head back against him. “I felt like I was being torn in multiple directions. I couldn’t concentrate.”

“Sure it wasn’t the alcohol?”

“Oh, please, half of these vodka waters have just been water,” Jyn scoffed.

That was his partner. He almost smiled into her hair as they danced together. When he slid his hands down to her hips, she took a sharp breath and pushed back against him, startling him a little. Right, this was his partner. And they were grinding against one another. He couldn’t help but think that all eyes were on them, but no, it was dark and the flashing lights offered little vision. Besides, everyone else was doing the same thing around them. They blended into the crowd.

He didn’t see how. Jyn looked electric right now in this dress. He was very aware of the fact that his hands were close to her bare skin. He could move his thumbs and they would be able to caress the small of her back, which was being shown off by the swooping material, or the tips of his fingers could skirt just a few inches and would graze her thighs. She really didn’t know how to dance, but it didn’t matter. Every time her body pressed against his a spark shot through him.

“Imwe allowed you to wear flats?” Cassian asked, trying to think of something. “I’m shocked.”

“Alcohol and heels sounded like a terrible combination,” Jyn pointed out cheekily. “Besides, he said most of the girls would take off the heels halfway through the night anyways.”

“Speaking of the girls–”

Jyn turned around and looped her arms around his neck. He tensed at the way the front of her body pressed against his intimately, but she didn’t seem to notice. At least he managed to keep a schooled expression on his face. He did not want to know how she’d respond to him reacting like that.

“It’s not her,” Jyn said, her face close to his.

“Are you positive?”

“It’s not,” Jyn insisted, “but I did find out some more information on our favorite sleezy MC.” She smirked up at him. “I’m not entirely hopeless.”

“I never thought you were,” Cassian told her honestly.

For some reason, that seemed to shake something out of Jyn. Her smirk faltered as she stared into his eyes, like she was trying to determine if he was telling the truth. He knew how he was: on more than one occasion he’d been told that he was almost impossible to read. He’d been like that for years. Working in the Bureau had made it worse or better, depending on who you asked. It was a part of the job, but it was also a defense mechanism. He couldn’t even say where it had come from.

Jyn bit her lip. “I know I was your last choice for this mission, but–”

“I didn’t want to put you in a situation that would upset you,” Cassian interrupted, “not because I thought you weren’t capable of doing it. You’re one of the best agents I know.”

“Yeah, but look at me.” Jyn rolled her eyes. “I’m not beauty queen material.”

“Maybe not,” Cassian conceded, “but you are beautiful.”

Jyn stilled against him, no longer dancing. He turned them around so that she was out of view of the other girls and kept moving to make it look like they still were, but she’d frozen on him like a deer in headlights. When one of the lights flashed against her face, he got the distinct impression that she was scared – that there was actual fear in her eyes – but he couldn’t understand why. It was the truth.

“You’re just saying that because of all the stupid dresses and makeup,” she said defensively.

Cassian chuckled. “I’d be lying if I said they didn’t help, but I’ve known you were attractive for a while. It just never seemed appropriate to say.”

Jyn’s fingers curled around the back of his neck, sending a tingle down his spine. “And it is now?”

“I shouldn’t have presumed,” Cassian said. “Forgive me?”

There was something about the way she was looking at him now, something different than before. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look like this. Soft, a little wary, but open as well. It was the kind of look that was inviting and prompted him forward without thinking. His grip on her tightened as she pressed up against him.

And then there was Leia, pulling Jyn away. “Kiss loverboy goodbye. Our rides are here!”

A very startled look crossed Jyn’s face, as if she hadn’t been aware of just how close she’d been to him. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Cassian forced a smile onto his face. “A pleasure dancing with you, Kestral. Good luck with the competition.”

“Right.” Jyn’s mouth snapped shut and she pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I’ll see you around.”

Leia ducked her head in close to Jyn’s and he could just make out, “Oh, he’s handsome,” before the two of them vanished into the crowd. He saw them once more when the doors opened and they poured outside with the other contestants.

Once they were gone, Cassian immediately made a beeline for the bar and ordered another drink. He slammed it back quickly before setting the glass on the bar. The agent standing next to him started to say something, but Cassian snapped, “Not a word,” before leaving the bar out the back. He needed the cool air and some time before he returned back to the van. The last people he wanted to be around were the guys. He wanted Jyn.

Groaning, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not now. This was ridiculous.

[redflannelgal-blog]

Email Marketing Lesson (3 )

Email Advertising LessonI moved into a new workplace lately and was unloading when I recognized I was fading quick and required a caffeine repair. Seems my Starbucks cappuccino device had gotten shed with the movers. I stressed."Currently what?" I thought. I had never gone a full mid-day without a latte. I understood something would certainly happen if I didn't obtain one, as well as it would possibly be the kind of thing that would certainly think of my specialist, so skipping my caffeine fix was not an option. I already had 2 web pages of issues we were covering. I presume the unloading would have to be placed on hold.I set my Starbucks radar on complete alert and also followed the path of informal service outfit. Indeed, 2 blocks later I located a Starbucks on the edge. As I drew open the door, a small gentleman blended in under my arm. Which is how I met Mr. Pibs.Mr. Pibs had been concerning that specific Starbucks considering that it opened up. Every mid-day about the very same time as my current 'mind fade,' he as well required a fix. We got our coffees and made our means to the comfy chairs.Mr. Pibs informed me he remained in wholesale pet products and owned his own production facility. He launched 25 years ago with a small shop in his garage and now rented a 200,000 square foot facility and employed over fifty employees. We drank our coffees as well as chatted regarding service. I asked him how he marketed his products to potential retail electrical outlets."We have a subscriber-based subscriber list," he said. "Concerning 2500 quality family pet stores across the US."I was satisfied! 2500 leads does not seem like much however these shops had actually asked to be spoken to. The shops were genuine, possible buyers searching for product. "So do you communicate monthly or do you find seasonal jobs better?" I delicately asked."Month-to-month!" Mr. garage door jobs brisbane said loudly in scary. "That would be $50,000 of shipping a year! No, we send our complete color brochure on an annual basis, costs us concerning $4000 in mailing fees. I draw a few girls off the setting up line and also get them licking stamps and also packing envelopes. We've been doing our marketing similar to this considering that the 2nd year we started. Sure is terrific that printing is a lot less expensive nowadays. Conserves us a bundle!"I gagged on the foam in my cup and really felt an acquainted sensation come by me. Before I understood it I was standing as well as swing my arms around my head in huge circles."Mr.Pibs, are you insane?" I shouted at the top of my lungs, as well as began to tirade, arms swing. "What advertising and marketing cave did you simply creep out of? Why not place your brochure online? Why not utilize a routine Email Advertising and marketing project to interact with the family pet stores on a routine basis? Are you anti-technology? Why get on earth are you sending out all that things by mail?." As well garage door repair reno nv realized I rarely recognized this guy and was primarily telling him he was a wag. I didn't have time to compose myself because at that really moment, when I was in mid-sentence of my Email Advertising and marketing rant, in walked my grandmother.Crap! I had actually neglected Grammy was going to meet me at my new office! She promptly spotted me and also made a beeline in my instructions. As she obtained more detailed I noticed she had an extremely weird looking hat on her head. It was all bumpy and also kind of resembled a bag. I observed a familiar looking label: Victoria's Secret.Since when did Victoria's Secret make hats?But I did not have time to ask, I needed to make Grandma believe we were intended to fulfill at the Starbucks and I likewise had to comprise fast with Mr. Pibs prior to my brand-new good friend assumed I was a lunatic.I resorted to Mr.Pibs, and discovered he was frozen, mouth hanging open in shock at my Email Advertising and marketing, arm swing, soapbox speech.Grandma ordered the uninhabited seat beside Mr. Pibs and also plopped herself down, scooching her behind, seriously trying to get it past the arm rests.Mr. Pibs thawed as well as murmured in horror, "That females has a pair of underwear-- on her head."And indeed my Grandma did certainly have a set of Victoria's Secret undergarments on her head, covering a mass of curlers.I wheezed."Child," my grandmother said, "I have actually been looking everywhere for you!" Observing Mr. Pibs, and unaware he as well as I had actually been having a discussion, Grandmother looked a little alarmed at my little frozen buddy. Not a surprise; the lack of color in his face was difficult to miss. "Tiny man," she stated, "You look ill, is the coffee too solid for your little stomach?""Grandma," I spoke slowly, transforming toward Mr. Pibs. "This is my brand-new close friend, Mr. Pibs." After that: "Mr. Pibs, I excuse my Email Advertising and marketing rant, this is my Grammy. We had a coffee day this mid-day."My grandmother extended her hand in a motion of welcome. Mr.Pibs sat still, staring at my granny's hair curler cover."Woman, why is there underclothing on your head?""Oh this?" she claimed, as she whipped off the over-stretched skivvies, discovering a selection of pink as well as white curlers. "These are old and all extended of shape from way too many years on the back. This set works great to keeps my curling irons in place. I upgraded to natural cotton undergarments years earlier."And with that said we, or instead Grandma and Mr. Pibs, chuckled and talked away the afternoon. Those two clicked so well I located myself a little bored. Simply as well, I could not get Mr. Pibs"advertising technique' out of my mind. Well, at the very least the US postal solution would not fail anytime soon with Mr. Pibs around. I rested there viewing those 2 laugh it up, and also shook my head in disbelief at my grandmother's Victoria's Secret curler coverer. Mr. Pibs' advertising approach was a whole lot like those underclothing. Old, unhealthy, and also all sagged out.I met Mr. Pibs once more for coffee (without the distraction of Grammy and her head gitch) and pointed out to him that any type of company that was not active online and making use of Email Advertising could intend to retire. He concurred that his whole technique needs to be placed in a rest residence. garage door metal trim was sort of challenging describing all that Email Advertising stuff to Mr.Pibs; he was a genuine Email Advertising and marketing newbie.I had a hard time awhile with analogies and also recognized the image of those droopy underclothing on my Granny's head was an excellent location to start. I kept going with the gonch style and also Mr. Pibs gradually started to understand the distinction in each kind of Email Advertising and marketing method. We talked Email Marketing strategy as well as exactly how a drawer packed with a selection of undergarments designs was truly the very best option for overall advertising support.If you are having a difficult time clarifying Email Advertising and marketing to your antique employer or your customers, do not hesitate to try out some of these.

They dealt with Mr. Pibs so I am sure they will benefit you.Broadcast Messages are like Thongs: These little numbers function fantastic at revealing, "Hey check out me, take a look at all the things I have to use ... now!" You do wish to exercise some restriction, however. Similar to you do not wish to be wearing a band everyday, neither would you send a broadcast message everyday.Auto-Responders resemble Full Figured Women's Petty Trousers: If you are not up on full-figured petty trousers, they look more like a pair of long tight shorts. Large figured ladies put on minor pants to stop the upper legs from massaging with each other. Auto-responders prevent the chafing away of your time and resources due to answering the very same inquiries over and over and over. Women's petty trousers make all numbers, regardless of size, look like a million dollars. Auto-Responders make you resemble a hero with timely practical reactions no issue if it is just you running the show or a whole office packed with client service reps.Regularly Delivered E-Newsletters are like 100% Cotton Briefs: For routine wear you can't beat a pair of 100% cotton briefs and for client retention you can't beat a consistently supplied e-newsletter. Everyone prefers a various cut of short relying on the quantity of wanted protection, as well as it's no various in the e-mail world. Every firm has a different idea of what their regular e-zine will certainly cover and what type of promo it will certainly provide their items as well as services.Mr. Pibs as well as I still satisfy at the Starbucks when a week approximately for our mid-day caffeine fix. His firm has really removed given that he hopped on board with Email Advertising. I assume he will most likely be moving right into a larger storehouse in the New Year just to stay on par with orders. He even introduced a new product (using e-mail, of training course)to celebrate - Pudgy Young puppy Petty Pants.And the notorious curling iron cover? We did not understand it up until later on that day but Granny's saggy underclothing got left on the table at Starbucks together with a calling card I had used throughout my Email Marketing rant. I question who uncovered the saggy gonch? Would I ever before figure out? Would the finder of those skivvies end up being a future customer? I'll keep you uploaded if anything materializes.And me? My Starbucks coffee maker emerged after three months of traveling around the western states but I still locate my means down the block most afternoons. I've additionally been remodeling my very own normal email advertising project taking into account my choice to try a reduced cut brief for normal wear. Disclosing even more product information is verifying to be extremely effective. My conversion price shows my clients are really appreciating the raised direct exposure I'm giving my items and services.Is your advertising strategy a little drooped, over stretched and worn? Attempt Email Advertising on for size. It comes in all type of cuts as well as styles guaranteed to boost your profits. I observed a familiar looking label: Victoria's Secret.Since when did Victoria's Secret make hats?But I did not have time to ask, I had to make Grandmother believe we were intended to meet at the Starbucks and also I likewise had to make up quick with Mr. Pibs prior to my brand-new close friend assumed I was a lunatic.I transformed to Mr.Pibs, and also observed he was iced up, mouth hanging open in shock at my Email Marketing, arm swing, soapbox speech.Grandma ordered the uninhabited seat next to Mr. Pibs as well as plunked herself down, scooching her behind, frantically attempting to obtain it past the arm rests.Mr. Old, out of shape, and all sagged out.I fulfilled Mr. Pibs once more for coffee (without the distraction of Grammy and also her head gitch) as well as mentioned to him that any business that was not energetic online as well as utilizing Email Advertising might want to retire. It was kind of tough clarifying all that Email Advertising things to Mr.Pibs; he was an actual Email Advertising newbie.I battled for a bit with examples and recognized the photo of those droopy undergarments on my Grandmother's head was an excellent location to start. I maintained going with the gonch motif and Mr. Pibs gradually began to comprehend the distinction in each kind of Email Marketing approach. We spoke Email Advertising and marketing approach and exactly how a drawer complete of a selection of underclothing designs was genuinely the finest alternative for complete marketing support.If you are having a difficult time discussing Email Advertising and marketing to your antique boss or your customers, really feel complimentary to try on some of these.