#sorry if i missed any good shots that fit those qualifications ^^; i did my best :-)

[moonlitkilljoy]

@giftober 2022 | day 3: scenery/locations

9 recurring locations from The Venture Bros. Season 6

[mintaka14]

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Six – Coda

“I heard,” one of the seamstresses said from her workstation, “that the results of the concours are going out today.”

And of course, the backstage staff knew before the dancers themselves had even received the letters of offer or rejection. Marinette shifted on her stool and frowned down in concentration at the old costume she was unpicking, one laborious stitch at a time.

The names of the new premiére danseuses and premier danseurs were tossed around, and Marinette only paid them half a mind, until someone asked, “What about the new sujet? Who got that one?”

“Oh, Mireille Caquet got the promotion,” someone else said, and Marinette put down the seam ripper in surprise.

“Not Lila Rossi?” she asked, and the girl across from her started laughing.

“Not in a month of Sundays,” Nicolette snorted. “That one’s never going to make it out of quadrilles, I can tell you that, and bad luck to her. Always so rude, and I don’t envy anyone who ever gets her for fittings.” She giggled. “We always make sure Mlle Rossi gets the last pick of the gowns and wigs, the one that’s always just a little bit too tight or a colour she doesn’t like much.”

Marinette couldn’t help the gasp of laughter that escaped her.

“Did you know her?” someone else asked Marinette.

“Of course she did,” Nicolette said. “Marinette was in the corps until she grew a brain and got out.”

Marinette just smiled and picked up the seam ripper again.

“Besides, I heard there’ve been discussions going on,” Pascal said from his workstation as he concentrated on the placement of another sequin. “Lila Rossi pissed off the wrong person, and the Director of the Conservatory himself got involved. They’re not going to renew her season’s contract when it finishes soon.”

That provoked an uproar in the atelier, and Marinette’s seam picker fell from her fingers to bounce on the floor.

“But… she was a permanent contract! She said she was permanent.”

Pascal was shaking his head gleefully. “No, no, chérie. She was a seasonal.”

There was a knock on the atelier door, and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the room.

“Marinette,” one of the seamstresses said in a singsong voice. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

And Luka was leaning against the doorframe, his gorgeous blue eyes only on her.

“Ready to go, melody?” he asked, and Eloise Marchand waved her off with an indulgent smile.

“There’s nothing that can’t be done tomorrow,” the costume director told her. “We’ll all be packing up soon anyway. You go and enjoy your evening.”

Marinette ignored the giggles and sighs as she carefully put away the costume she’d been working on and gathered up her things. It was all good-humoured, and Nicolette whispered, “You’re so lucky” as Marinette passed her.

“I know,” she whispered back, and then Luka took her hand, his smile lighting up, and she followed him out the door. All the way down from the sixth floor they talked about inconsequential things, and how his search for an apartment was going.

“I mean, I love the Liberty,” Luka sighed, “and I’m going to miss Ma and Jules, but I’m really not going to miss Jules banging on the wall or making comments any time you come round.”

Juleka had been having way too much fun with playing spoilsport lately. Marinette felt the embarrassed fire rising in her face, and changed the subject. She eyed Luka thoughtfully, and brought up a suspicion that she’d had since Pascal had shared his piece of gossip.

“I heard a rumour today that Lila’s seasonal contract with the company is getting cancelled, and that the Director of the Conservatory of Music was involved. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” she asked, and he cast his eyes up.

“I may have had a conversation with my mother’s ex-boyfriend who just happens to be the Director of the Conservatory,” he said with feigned innocence. “The subject of Lila may have come up.”

“Luka!” She shoved his arm gently, and then sighed. “I could almost feel sorry for her. She was never going to get ahead in the company, and I think she knew it.”

“She put glass in your shoes,” Luka said, and she shouldn’t have found that rumbling growl in his voice as sexy as she did. Distracted by that thought, it took her a moment to realise that he was watching her.

“Do you wish I hadn’t said anything?” he asked her, and she subjected that to some consideration.

“No, I think I’m glad you did. If she’s done things like that to me to get what she wants, she’ll do it again to someone else if she’s left unchecked,” Marinette said. They’d reached the entrance hall, and Luka held the door open for her. “That recording was only going to hold her back for so long.”

He took her hand again as they crossed the courtyard and passed under the huge and embellished stone archway, and steered her in the opposite direction when she started to turn towards the metro.

“How do you feel about dinner at Midi12 tonight?” She gave him a startled glance, and he shrugged self-consciously. “I finished my thesis today, and I feel like celebrating, and galette.”

Marinette stopped and flung her arms around him. “Luka! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I still have to edit a couple of things, and get my supervisor’s okay on it, but… it’ll be ready to hand to her when she gets back from Madrid in a few weeks. The research component’s all done.”

She glowed up at him. “We definitely need to celebrate.”

Palais Garnier loomed majestically behind them. The sky above the streets was still waiting for sunset, but the late afternoon air was starting to grow heavy and the golden light from the cafes and restaurants spilled over the grey slabs of concrete under their feet. It was starting to turn cooler, and the figures around them were hurrying a little now. Marinette leaned into Luka’s warmth, and he put an arm around her as they walked.

Marinette shot him a mischievous look. “You do know Papa does much better galette than Midi12?”

“Tom does better pastries than anyone,” Luka agreed, then his grin became a little wry. “I’d just kind of like you all to myself for a little while before we have to head home.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The umbrellas outside the Palais Garnier restaurant were furled behind the stone balustrade and hedge, but they could hear the distant clink of china and cutlery, and the soft hum of voices from the early patrons. Classical statues gazed down indifferently from their perches along the balustrade, and the huge iron streetlamps weren’t lit yet. They made dark, spiky silhouettes against the thick blue sky.

“So how did things go for you today?” Luka asked, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Well, it wasn’t finished the thesis exciting, but Mme Marchand has me going through the costume archives right now, and I’ve been unpicking some of the old costumes to try and match fabrics. It’s fascinating, the way it was constructed. I’m learning so much, and so much of what I did when I was on stage makes a lot more sense now. She said she’ll take me to the fabric warehouses with her the next time she has to source something.” Luka grinned at the little skip of enthusiasm that she couldn’t suppress. “It’s going to be exhausting once my course gets underway, trying to juggle that and the residency program, but it’ll be worth it. I’ll get to work on the next season costumes – Adrien said his father’s sponsoring again, so they’re going to be stunning.”

Luka was watching her with a half-smile. “You saw Adrien?”

“I caught up with some of the company for lunch today, and Adrien was there.”

“How is he?”

Marinette giggled. “He’s started sneaking out to date the daughter of one of his father’s business associates, so he’s happy.”

“Sneaking out? Does his father disapprove or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said with a  shrug. “I think Adrien’s just developed a taste for sneaking around. He’s got a lot of years of rebellion to catch up on, apparently.”

Luka laughed. “You’re a bad influence, melody.”

“He’s heard a rumour that next season is going to be La Bayadère, and I love the costumes for that. The colours are just glorious, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what M. Agreste’s take on it is.”

“Any regrets that it won’t be you wearing those costumes?” he asked.

“Not really. No. I mean, I have the odd moment when I miss that feeling, but I’d much rather be making them than dancing in them.”

They turned away from the Palais Garnier in its opulent grandeur, an isolated island of magnificence, into the noisier streets where the rumble and honk of traffic was overlaid with voices and conversation and laughter. Buildings and shops crowded above Marinette and Luka as they strolled towards the crêperie, lost in their own world.

“So, no regrets?” he repeated quietly, and Marinette knew he was asking about more than just costumes. She couldn’t help laughing.

“I got away with the heist without going to prison, I got into a course that I’m loving for a career that I’m excited about, and Mme Marchand got me into a residency that most people in theatre design would kill for, even though I haven’t got my qualifications yet.”

She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips along the line of his jaw, loving the feel of his breath on her palm as he leaned into her touch.

“And I get to go home with the man I adore,” she said softly. “No regrets. Not ever.”

There was something in the way that Luka was looking at her that brought a blush to her cheeks and left her heart stumbling in her chest.

“What are you thinking?”

He ducked his head until the blue tips of his hair shadowed his eyes, but she could see the soft smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“I can’t tell you, because you didn’t want me to get too far ahead of myself. Ask me again when you’ve finished your degree.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Oh. Okay.”

They walked a little further. Marinette glanced up at him.

“That’s a whole three years away,” she said pensively, and his eyes were back on her now. “Would you tell me if I asked when I’ve completed my residency?”

There was that quality of stillness in the way he was holding himself, as if he didn’t quite dare to believe what he thought he was hearing. “That’s... June. End of June.”

“Is that too soon?” she asked, and gave a faint squeak as Luka kissed her hard, and kissed her again, and again until they melted into softer kisses, heedless of the people passing by. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, and his arms were around her, pulling her close while life moved on around them. Perhaps there were a few frowns, or a few indulgent smiles, thrown their way, but neither of them noticed.

“June, tomorrow, today, whenever you want,” he breathed when they finally came up for air, his voice a little husky. “I’m yours, melody.”

And Marinette pulled him down for another kiss, too happy to speak.

[memesiders]

Part 1

Death x OC Office AU

(I'm still obsessed with the Office AU created by @notesz-b so I started writing a little something. It's not the best but I'm proud of it so yeah... Any suggestions for a title or critiques are welcome. Just please be gentle lol)

My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall for what felt like the hundredth time in the past forty five minutes. How much longer would I have to wait? It wasn't like there were a bunch of people here; when I'd arrived there had only been three people in the waiting area. Now, only I remained. Well, me and the woman sitting behind her desk, tapping away at her keyboard. Amber, I think her name was. I flicked my eyes down to her, admiring her long platinum hair that was pulled into a tight ponytail.

Very Ariana Grande of her. Did she get migraines often from the strain on her scalp?

She looked up at me suddenly, cool eyes studying me while one of her perfect brows arched curiously. I smiled awkwardly, embarrassed by being caught for looking too long. She let out a long breath and picked up the phone on the desk, putting it to her ear and hitting a button. My smile dropped and I looked away quickly, nervously tugging at the few loose strands of hair that fell into my face.

"Hello, sir," Amber said, breaking the silence. "Yes, still here..." I cut my eyes back to her. "Yes... Okay. Do you want me to tell her to leave?" My heart dropped into my stomach. Oh no, I was not going to leave here without getting my interview. I shot up and adjusted my bag, walking over to her desk. She hung up as I reached it and turned to me. "I'm sorry, but we have to reschedule your interview. Something's come up and-"

"I need this interview," I cut in, feeling slight guilt at interrupting her. "Please, I really, really need this interview. I've been waiting for almost an hour and-"

"I apologize." Her voice was louder and less kind than it had been. "But the boss is not up to interviewing any potential-"

"Oh, fuck that," I muttered under my breath, walking to the two large office doors. Amber yelled at me to stop but I ignored her, grabbing one of the sleek handles and twisting it. Something hard hit my back and I fell forward, the door swinging open. All I could do was yelp before my face hit the ground and I was being subdued by Office Barbie. I grunted and struggled against her, kicking my legs and swinging back to try and hit her. She grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. I hissed at the action and tried to pull my arm free to no avail; how could someone so tiny be so strong?

"Amber, enough," a deep voice ordered. The weight on top of me disappeared seconds after the command and I pushed myself onto my knees, hugging my throbbing arm to my chest. I glared up at the woman who wasn't even looking at me.

"Should I remove her from the premises, sir?" she asked, the expression on her face clearly saying she wanted the speaker to say yes.

"That won't be necessary," the man sighed. He sounded tired, exhausted even. I turned my head to look at the speaker, my breath escaping me. There was something about him that was almost ethereal. I couldn't tell if it was the pale skin, the long raven hair, or the eyes that seemed to burn like hot embers. Maybe it was none of that and was, instead, the muscles that flexed under the dark suit he wore. One thing was for certain though; he wasn't human.

He wasn't an angel either, nor a demon, the lack of wings proved that. I could practically hear my older sister yelling at me what he was. I should've paid attention to what she told me. Something about ancient beings and being the last of their kind or something like that. Fuck, why hadn't I paid attention?

He cleared his throat and I jumped, shaking off the cloud that had formed around me. I shakily got to my feet and brushed off my skirt and tights, combing a quick hand through my hair. He lazily waved his hand and Amber moved from my side, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Goosebumps rose on my arms as I realized I was now alone with him, and that my first impression was probably the worst that could've happened. "Well?" I jumped again, noting the irritation in his voice. I stared at him with wide eyes, afraid to move for some reason.

He rolled his eyes and sat up straight in his chair, clasping his hands together. "You barge into my office for an interview I canceled and now you have nothing to say?" I made a strangled sound and squeezed the strap of my bag tightly.

"I- I'm, uh, I'm sorry," I managed to choke out, wishing I'd just left instead of bulldozing my way forward. Death scoffed and rubbed his temples, a vein in his neck popping out as he clenched his jaw. I had to do this right before he changed his mind and had Amber throw me out on my ass. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, walking over to his desk with confidence I could only fake at the moment.

"My name is Aziza Banks," I said, offering him my hand. He stared at it for a good minute before finally taking it. We shook and I couldn't help but notice how large his hand was compared to mine, and how cold his skin felt against my palm. I nearly yanked my hand away from the icy touch. He gestured for me to take a seat and I nodded in appreciation, sitting down in one of the nice leather chairs and setting my bag in the other. I pulled out my resumé and placed it in the dark desk, sliding it across to him. "I'm here about the part time receptionist opening."

He nodded but made no move to pick up my resumé. I shifted nervously and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to bounce my leg. I did that whenever I was anxious, and it was taking everything in my to not give in. "What are your qualifications? Experience?"

"If you look inside you'll find-"

"I want to hear them from you." I bit my tongue, holding back the string of curses I wanted to throw his way. He had made me wait an hour, tried to cancel the interview, and now he wanted me to tell him what was so easily accessible to him? God, what a prick.

"It's in my resumé, which I thought you read," I said calmly, adding a bite to my words. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly and he grabbed the folder, flipping through it without looking at it. Instead, he stared at a small bird statue on his desk. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he looked through the file.

"Twenty Four, graduated with a bachelor's in art & design." He snorted quietly and continued down, one of his brows arching. "What is this?" He held up a photograph and I knew my face was redder than a tomato. It was a photo of my younger sister and I wearing fedoras and flipping off the camera. I had my tongue sticking out. Oh God.

"Goddammit, Neema," I muttered under my breath, covering my face with a hand. "I'm so sorry; I think my little sister slipped it in. She's always playing jokes and trying to embarrass me." I dropped my hand and sighed. "I am so, so sorry." He gave me what seemed like a sympathetic look and tucked the picture back into the folder.

"Siblings can be... irritating," he replied, squinting his eyes slightly as he continued to look through my file.

"That's putting it mildly." The corner of his mouth twitched slightly and I fought back a small smile of my own. Silence fell over us after that. I turned my attention to the room we were in, studying everything. There was a couch and a few chairs in one of the corners of the large office, a coffee table in the center of the circle of furniture. Two plants rested in different corners and two large ornate scythes were displayed on a wall, one crossing over the other. Shelves hung on a different wall with books stacked neatly on them and a picture frame with four people in it.

I couldn't make them all out from where I was sitting but I was almost certain the one on the inner left was Death. Underneath The shelves was a bar with a mini fridge and crystal glasses neatly displayed on the countertop. The office, for how large it was, was mostly bare; the man was definitely a minimalist.

I finished looking around and finally turned my attention back to Death, who had been watching me. For how long, I didn't know, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw those amber eyes staring at me. I straightened up and gave him a small smile, nodding at my resumé. "There anything else you'd like to know that isn't in there?" I asked politely. He closed the folder and slid it back to me, shaking his head.

"No, thank you." He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together. "I'm sorry, Miss Banks, but I don't think you'd be a right fit." My heart sank and I completely deflated, shoulders dropping.

"What? Why not?" I asked, sounding more pathetic than I'd meant to. Death shrugged.

"I don't see anything in your resumé that suggest that you'd be right for the job. Your degree is in arts & design, not business, communications, or anything that could be useful to my office." I opened my mouth to speak but he continued. "I'm interested in people who can contribute something valuable to me and the company; you have nothing to offer. I'm sorry for wasting your time, have a nice day." With that, he turned his attention to his computer screen. Something started to bubble inside of me, something hot and anxious. I was mad- no, pissed. How could I not be a good fit? How could I not have something valuable to contribute? I could definitely contribute patience; that was evident by the hour I waited outside his fucking office. I slammed my hands down on his desk and stood, scoffing loudly. He looked back at me.

"Are you serious right now?" I laughed, but it wasn't because I was amused. "I spent a chunk of my time in your waiting room while you were in here doing God knows what, only getting a meeting with you after running past and being taken down by your attack dog, only so you can turn me down because you think I can't contribute anything to the office? That I'm not a valuable asset or have something worthy for you?" The bubbling had turned into a fire in the pit of my stomach and I could feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Fuck, why did I always cry when I was pissed off? "That's absolute bullshit!" Death regarded me coolly and stood, now towering over me. He was well over 6'0, that was for sure, because I was about that height and I seemed tiny now in comparison. His height didn't discourage me though; I was too angry for that.

"Honestly, you're not making the situation any better for yourself," he replied calmly, as if we were both having a normal conversation. "Do you think you deserve a job here because I made you wait? Or maybe because you got past my 'attack dog'?" I blinked, taken aback.

"Wha- No, of course not!" He was really pissing me off now. He leaned down to me, his face nearly touching mine. I could smell a hint of alcohol on his breath, and something else I couldn't quite place.

"Then why?" Death asked, voice low. He was trying to intimidate me, I knew it. He wasn't going to get that satisfaction; no one ever had and no one ever would. I rocked forward onto my toes, pushing myself up so that our noses brushed. The loose strands of his hair brushed against my cheek, tickling my skin and catching my eyelashes.

"Because I'm qualified and I'm pretty sure I'm the only applicant who hasn't bailed on you because of how long you avoided them," I answered, my voice unable to stay calm. "I can take anything you throw at me and get it done perfectly. I busted my ass getting here and if you give me a chance, I'll show you that I deserve to be here. That I have something of value to bring to the table." Silence fell back over us, our eyes locked in a silent battle. I wasn't about to back down, and I knew he definitely wouldn't; he didn't seem like the type of man to back down from a fight.

I heard a light knock on the door, followed by the sound of it being opened, but my gaze never wavered. "Sir," I heard Amber say. "You brother is waiting for you." Death's eyes burned holes into me but I didn't dare look away. Angels and demons had had their fair share of trying to intimidate me and had failed, this guy wouldn't be the first to break me.

"Which one?" he growled, refusing to drop eye contact. There was a loud bang and I couldn't help but jump and subsequently look over my shoulder. Standing next to Amber was a man about the same height as Death, with dark skin and disheveled hair that fell back over his head and ended in little spikes. It reminded me of a character in some anime Neema tried getting me to watch.

"Brother," he exclaimed, a shit eating grin on his face. "Good to see you!" Death groaned and fell back into his seat.

"Strife," he muttered. Strife sauntered in, holding his arms out.

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by just to say hi, maybe catch up."

"You live on the other side of town!" I looked between them, suddenly feeling awkward. Death dragged a hand down his face and stared at his brother, the bags under his eyes seeming to deepen. "What do you really want?" Strife clutched his heart and frowned.

"Why, big brother, what do you mean? Can't I just be here for a nice visit with my sibling?"

"No," he replied before Strife could even finish.

"Should I remove him from the premises, sir?" Amber asked, cracking her knuckles. Death and Strife stared at each other, Strife's eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. The building tension in the room made me want to shiver, but instead I fell back into my seat just as Death answered,

"No, thank you, Amber. It'll be fine." She nodded and left, closing the door behind her, but not before casting me a curious glance. Strife continued over and pulled back a chair, sweeping my bag off of the seat without a care to ask me to move it. My purse hit the floor, contents spilling out all over. I sucked in a sharp breath and glared at the man as he plopped down, ignoring me completely.

"Nice manners, asshole," I muttered, scooting out of my seat to pick up my things. I grabbed the dumped items- gum, a pen, my wallet, and an empty candy bar wrapper- and tossed the items back into my bag. As I went to pick it up, a boot came down on the purse strap. I snapped my head up, scowling at him. He smirked and reached for his sunglasses, tipping them up slightly to reveal two intense yellow eyes. My breath hitched in my throat at the sight of them; absolutely beautiful.

"Do you know who I am, little girl?" he asked, his tone vaguely threatening. I frowned, yanking the purse strap out from under his boot.

"Yeah," I said, settling back into my seat. "You're the biggest asshole in the city; nice to finally meet you." He stared at me for a few seconds and I wondered if, perhaps, I should have kept my mouth shut. After all, this was the brother of the man I was trying to get to hire me, and he was pretty important himself. He let his glasses fall back over his eyes and, to my surprise, started to laugh. He tipped his head back as he snickered, his body shaking from the laughter. My frown deepened as I watched him; this was definitely not what I'd expected.

"Oh, Creator, that was good," he wheezed out after a few more moments of giggling. He looked to his brother. "Death, where did you find this one? Can I have her?"

"She's not mine," Death hissed, sitting back and rubbing his temples.

"Yes I am," I snapped. I wasn't about to leave here after waiting for an hour without a job.

"Really," Strife sang, turning his attention to me. He leaned on the arm of his chair, resting his chin on his fist as he regarded me. "So how long have you been banging my brother?" My eyes widened at his question. What? I wasn't- how did he think- "He never told me he had a lovely little human on his arm."

"Strife," Death growled, getting no reaction from his sibling other than a smirk.

"I'm not his like that!" I finally sputtered out. My face was warm and I could only imagine how red my cheeks were. "I just meant-"

"You're not mine in any way, shape, or form!" I shot a glare at Death, ready to enter another round of arguing with him, when Strife cut in.

"If he's not gonna give you a job, I'll happily take you in," he purred, a mischievous grin on his face. I rolled my eyes at his offer and sighed, shaking my head.

"You'll do no such thing," Death stated, narrowing his eyes at the other man. Strife's grin only grew and he turned to his brother.

"You're not the boss of either of us, big brother. I'd be more than welcome to take the little human in." The two stared at each other silently, the tension in the air only growing. I was sure one of them was going to throw the first punch at any minute. Suddenly, Death spoke.

"Amber!" In less than five seconds the blonde was at the door, her eyes trained on Strife like a guard dog waiting for her owner to give the command. "Please, escort Miss Banks out of my office. I need to speak to my brother, alone." I frowned, my hands curling into fists.

"What?" I spat, glaring at him. "No, we're not finished here!" He met my gaze and the air around me seemed to chill. I wanted to recoil, but I couldn't back down.

"Yes, I believe we are. I am sorry, Miss Banks, but you do not have the job." I stood quickly, nearly knocking back the chair, and slammed my hands down on the desk.

"No, I'm not leaving. You can't just-"

"Please come with me or else I'll have to use force," Amber said, appearing next to me. I disregarded her.

"I came here for a job and I'm not leaving until I get one, you pompous, stuck up ba-" Before I could finish tearing him a new one, Amber had my arm twisted behind my back and was pushing me to the exit, my bag in her hand. "Wait!"

"Have a nice day, Miss Banks," Death called as I was shoved out. I tossed a glance over my shoulder and I could've sworn I saw a smirk on his face. Son of a bitch. Amber didn't let go of me until I was in the elevator.

"I'm sorry the interview didn't go your way," she said, sounding and looking sincere. "Don't take what he said personally; he's is in a mood today. Something to do with his siblings, I'd assume." The anger seemes to drain out of me as she talked, not because I felt bad for the guy, but because the reality of what had just happened was settling in. I suddenly felt ashamed of myself; my actions weren't something I was entirely proud of. I'd never been so upset by an interview before. I'd had plenty of them, and had been turned down more times than I cared to admit, so why had I lost it at this one? Maybe it was the looming reminder of failure hanging over me. Whatever it was, it was inexcusable of me to behave like that. I almost felt like I owed Death an apology.

Almost.

"It's alright," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I took my bag from her hand, my frown deepening. "I shouldn't have behaved like a crazy bitch. That probably didn't help my case." Amber cracked a small smile and nodded, stepping back. I hit the lobby button and leaned against the elevator wall. "It was nice meeting you, Amber."

"Same to you, Aziza," she replied as the elevator doors came to a close. I let my head fall back and sighed, closing my eyes as tears started to build.

What a fucking failure.

[nicolewrites]

We Stand, Fate-Tested - II

Sticking with the longer chapters. I finished this part up instead of an essay due in 5 hours, so it’s a gift you should run with. I have the outline for the story roughly in place, but no promises about when the next update will be. 

Rating: T+ Genre: Mystery, Friendship, Romance Characters: [Byleth/My Unit, Dimitri B.], [Byleth/My Unit, Claude R.] Words: 5,826

Byleth leads the first tutorial of the year. / The Blue Lions return home for the second time since the war's end.

AO3 | FFN

II - In Circles We Tread

Garreg Mach University - 14 Horsebow Moon, 732 AU

Byleth arrived at the classroom where her tutorial section was meeting ten minutes early. She was hoping that whatever class had the room before her would be done early so that she could set up her laptop and her review slides for the session. Fortunately, there didn’t appear to have been a class in the room so she was able to enter as soon as she arrived.

Byleth was in the midst of setting up her laptop with the tangled, university-supplied cables when her first student arrived. It was the same girl with straight, dark hair that had been the first student to arrive in the lecture the week before. She approached the front desk and smiled at Byleth.

Byleth paused in her set up. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Hello, Miss Eisner,” the girl replied. “My name is Lysithea.”

Byleth nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Lysithea. You’re a bit early, but please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”

The girl nodded and sat right in the front row. She pulled out a laptop and began tapping away at the keyboard. Byleth went back to setting up her presentation as more students trickled in. She recognized the boy with green hair, half of the group of students that had sat near her in lecture, as well as Claude and Dimitri. Claude took a seat in the back, flanked by a girl with bright pink hair and a boy with purple hair and expensively styled clothes while Dimitri sat with the friends he had sat with in lecture.

Byleth finished setting up her slides and glanced at the clock. It was one minute before 1:30, when the tutorial was supposed to begin so she stood up, assessing her class. Her tutorial section had half the class and Seteth ran the tutorial with the other half. As it was the first tutorial of the section, attendance was at almost, or entirely, full capacity, something which likely wouldn’t continue throughout the whole semester.

“Hi everyone,” she greeted when the clock finally ticked over to 1:30. The chatter in the room mostly died out and all the curious faces turned to face her. A bead of nervousness pricked in her chest, but she smiled and forced it down. “As I’m sure you guys know, I’m Byleth Eisner and I’ll be your TA for this class. I’m leading this tutorial section, Tutorial 2, and Dr. Cichol leads Tutorial 1.”

She leaned down and moved to the first slide in her slideshow which was a trio of pictures. The first was Byleth and Seteth working in a lab doing hands-on analysis of artifacts. The second was a shot of Byleth posing with her undergrad thesis team at Shambhala where they had done an expedition. The last photo was Byleth in the Main Hall of the university as she presented her undergraduate thesis.

“I’m in my first year of my Masters here at Garreg Mach University with a specialization in Unification Era Archaeology focused on the Guardian of Order. I did my undergraduate degree here and graduated with a combined honours in Archaeology and History. Dr. Cichol is currently my Masters supervisor which is why I’m here as your TA.”

There were a few murmurs across the class as people assessed her qualifications. Byleth ignored them and moved to her next slide which held a photo of the ancient sword that was rumoured to have been wielded by the Guardian of Order. They had discussed it in lecture since it was one of very few relics from the Unification Era that hadn’t been lost to looters or fire. However, since it was still early in the semester, they’d looked at the blade objectively, not as a relic wielded by the Guardian.

“Archaeology is the study of material remains of humans and societies. In our first class we talked about the first step of working with artifacts: description, classification, and analysis. The next step is the placement of an artifact within its historical context. If we take this image here, can someone give me a description for it?” She gestured to the screen and the image of the sword. “And, for the first few classes if you can just say your name beforehand so I can get to know everyone, that would be much appreciated.”

The blonde girl sitting with Dimitri raised her hand and Byleth nodded. “I’m Ingrid,” the girl introduced, brushing her braid back over her shoulder. “The first step would be to identify the weapon as an ancient blade, likely a longsword. It appears to be made of some kind of bone or clay material due to its lack of metallic qualities.”

Byleth nodded. “Excellent, thank you, Ingrid. Now, can someone give me a guess about the historical context of the blade based off of that?”

Lysithea, the girl who had been early for class, raised her hand. “Given the design of the blade and its recovery location, this is likely a blade that had been used in the Unification War. Due to appearance, it is likely that the blade was used by a highly ranked soldier, officer, or commander. It fell to disuse probably after the fire in 101 and 102 AU.”

Byleth nodded and was about to commend Lysithea when Claude raised his hand. She raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to speak.

Claude was leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head as he made steady eye contact with Byleth. “Maybe I just know this as a History major, but that blade fell to disuse before the Great Fire of Garreg Mach. It would have been around 9 AU that it was no longer wielded. It’s structure greatly resembles the other legendary weapons of the time known as ‘Relics’.”

Byleth appraised Claude. He was correct, of course, but it had taken her a lot of research to actually find the year when the Guardian was reported to have disappeared, leaving her legendary blade to the Royal Collection. “That is correct, Claude,” she agreed. “This sword,” she paused to continue the presentation on her laptop which let the label pop up on the screen, “is known to us as the Guardian’s Blade, the weapon that was wielded by the Guardian of Order in the Unification War.”

There were a few more jumbled murmurs around the room as students processed what she was saying.

“Pardon me, Miss Eisner,” the green-haired boy said, raising a hand, “if you’re saying this weapon is one of the Relics, why was it recovered separately from the rest of the ancient weapons?”

“That’s an excellent question,” she trailed off, gesturing for the student to give his name.

“Linhardt.”

“Linhardt,” Byleth repeated. “In the year 7 AU, after the death of the Saviour King, the Guardian of Order called for the collection of the Relics to be displayed as artifacts and historical trophies instead of used as weapons. It has never been confirmed, but historians have theorized that since the Guardian of Order disappeared just under a year after her husband’s passing, she took her blade with her when she vanished. The discovery of the sword here at Garreg Mach is one of the biggest mysteries regarding her disappearance.”

At the back of the classroom, Claude’s friends were whispering, but Claude’s green eyes were fixed sharply on Byleth as she explained. Byleth tried to ignore him as she continued to field questions as well as offer her own discussion questions. The rest of the 50-minute section passed relatively quickly, but right until the end, Byleth could have sworn that Claude didn’t take his eyes off of her.

At 2:20, Byleth concluded the discussion and dismissed class, saying she would see everyone back the next week. Conversations broke out and people started packing up. She unplugged her laptop from the projector and started putting away her own things. She slid her laptop into her bag and looked up when someone cleared their throat in front of the podium. Byleth found Claude smirking at her, his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.

“Good discussion,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” Byleth replied. She still felt on edge around Claude. There was something about him that was so infuriatingly familiar and she just couldn’t figure out what it was because it certainly wasn’t just because he was the son of an ambassador.

“Combined honours with History, hm?” he continued. “Sounds familiar.”

Byleth rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Yes, it appears we have similar interests.” She contemplated something for a moment before she pushed forward with it: “Have you taken a lot of courses in Unification Era history?”

Claude shrugged. “I took 234 and I’m currently in 316.”

Byleth had taken both of those courses herself. History 234 was the Unification War History course and History 316 was History of the Unification Years. Neither was particularly heavy in information about the Guardian of Order and the Guardian’s Blade, topics Claude had already proved himself knowledgeable in.

“Is knowing everything just a hobby then?” she asked.

Claude laughed this time. “If I knew everything I don’t think I’d be in your class, Teach.”

The nickname caught her off guard and she blinked dumbly at him for a moment. Claude seemed to recognize his blunder and he winced.

“Ah, sorry if that was weird, it just felt right.”

Byleth bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s fine, really,” she assured. In all honesty, the nickname had felt fitting and familiar. It was weird.

“Anyways, I don’t suppose there’s any way we could sit down and talk about your thesis, is there? I’m incredibly curious about the research that you’ve been doing,” Claude continued after a short cough.

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “I have office hours and my email is on the course outline,” she replied flatly.

Claude laughed. “Yes, but your office hours will be filled with students with academic, course-related questions. Email, also, doesn’t have the same personal touch as a face-to-face conversation.”

Byleth sighed. “Look, Claude, I’m your TA, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He held up his hands innocently. “I’ve just got questions about your Masters, surely that’s an innocent enough intention? What about Thursday afternoon at the coffee shop in the student centre?”

Byleth considered it for a moment. There was nothing in her contract that said she couldn’t get coffee with someone who was interested in her academic projects and if she managed to convince Claude to pursue a graduate degree in her field after graduation, she knew Seteth wouldn’t care about the nature of their conversation.

She sized up Claude and folded her arms. “I’ll meet you at Anna’s at 4 on Thursday,” she consented.

Claude’s smirk widened and he nodded. “I look forward to it, Teach.”

With one last cheeky wink, Claude strode away and headed for the door where his two friends had lingered, waiting for him. Byleth watched him for a moment before she resumed packing up her things. She slid her attendance sheet into her folder and placed it in her bag.

“Miss Eisner,” a new voice interrupted.

Byleth shook her head and looked up. “Byleth, please.”

Dimitri, standing in front of her desk, gave her a small smile. “Byleth,” he agreed. “I hope Claude wasn’t bothering you. He’s a strong personality.”

Byleth laughed lightly and smiled. “No, no, he was just asking about my area of study. I’m happy to talk about it. I wouldn’t be studying it if I wasn’t.”

Dimitri looked relieved. “That’s good to hear. You’re certainly interesting to listen to in tutorial. You know your stuff.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Admittedly, I’m feeling a bit out of my depth in this class.”

Byleth nodded. “That’s understandable, but really, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’ve got some smart classmates, if today was any indication, and both Dr. Cichol and I have office hours reserved for this class section so feel free to come to either of us if you need anything.”

Dimitri nodded. “Yes, thank you very much.” Someone called his name from by the door and he turned to walk away, pausing once to give her a last goodbye.

Byleth pulled her bag up onto her shoulder and bit her lip. Dimitri and Claude and Edelgard were so familiar that it hurt her to think about them. Even so, she had a job to do and a meeting with Seteth to get to. She strode out of the classroom, fishing her tangled headphones out of her pocket.

- ~ -

Seteth placed a new folder on the desk between them, gesturing for her to take a look. Byleth slid it towards herself and opened it. It was a stack of about five pieces of paper and the first was an email between Seteth and the Fhirdiad National Museum of Unification that was set to sponsor the expedition below Garreg Mach.

Byleth scanned the email and grinned when she found the phrase she was looking for. “On behalf of the Board of Directors here at the museum, we consent to allow Miss Byleth Eisner a position on the Garreg Mach Research Team to assist with her academic development,” she read aloud.

Seteth was smiling. “Keep reading.”

“In the interest of the success of the dig, funding has also been secured for an additional team of researchers to join you on this endeavour. The idea is to have undergraduate students join you to develop practical archaeological skills.” Byleth stopped reading abruptly and looked up at Seteth. “Let me get this straight: you not only got approval for me to join, but now they want us to take on a group of undergrads?”

Seteth nodded, knitting his fingers together atop his desk. “I think this will be an interesting opportunity for them.” He reached for the file, pushing Byleth’s hands away and pulling the documentation back towards him. “The expedition is set to begin next year, in the Guardian Moon of the new semester. I was thinking that we would extend this opportunity to the students currently in Archaeology 356. That way we have a semester to evaluate the students so we can choose ones we think will be beneficial, not hindering, to the studies.”

Byleth nodded slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense. Still, this kind of opportunity for undergraduates means everyone will want in. I know I would have when I was in my third year.”

“I’m going to put an announcement up on my website about the opportunity and discuss it next class. I was hoping you would be able to design some kind of application form so that we can immediately narrow down our options.”

Byleth slid her laptop out of her bag and opened a blank document. “What kind of questions were you thinking for the application?”

Seteth pondered for a moment before he answered: “Ask about any experience they have, and how many prior archaeology or history credits they have. I would also like to know about their own interpretation of the Unification Era, since that’s what this is all about.”

“If I asked what they think is a major, lasting influence of the Unification Era on current Fódlani politics?”

Seteth smiled. “I like that.”

“How many students can we take?”

Seteth flipped through papers briefly to find the definite answer. “We can take ten, but that’s too many. I think eight is an appropriate number.”

Byleth noted that down and she tapped out a few more rough questions. “I assume we’ll do a vetting process with the written applications and then call the best candidates for interviews with the rest of our dig team, right?”

“Yes,” Seteth agreed. “It’s important that they meet and can get along with the rest of the team because they are an addition to the team that is meant to help their skills, not hinder the results of our expedition. Too many people have put too much effort into this for it to fail now.”

Byleth knew why Seteth was nervous because the last time someone had led a dig under the university, it had fallen apart just a few weeks after it began. Byleth paused and exhaled slowly. “Seteth, this might be overstepping, but I want to ask about my father.” Seteth tensed and Byleth swallowed her nervousness before continuing. “I know he was a part of the last research expedition to the underside of Garreg Mach five years ago. I know he pulled out of the project part-way through and that the project fell through after he withdrew. What are we going to find down there that caused my father to pull out so suddenly?”

Seteth stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Byleth, are you asking me if I know why your father was killed?”

“No,” she said firmly. “He was stabbed five years ago. That’s unrelated to his work. I’m asking you why the excavation couldn’t continue without my father.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Seteth admitted. “I wasn’t a member of that excavation team. It was led by a woman named Catherine Charon. Catherine cancelled further progress once your father withdrew his support. The excavation was privately funded by a private collector from Zanado and apparently the money stopped once your father left the project.”

Byleth frowned. “My father was a security contractor, not an archaeologist. His withdrawal from the project should have just meant that they brought on someone else, not that they cancelled the dig entirely.”

“I agree. It was something that I could never get Catherine to explain and she left the University that year before I could get a real answer out of her. Your father never liked to talk about it either, as I’m sure you know, and then he died just five months later.”

Byleth sighed. “I’ve been through the site notes and the inventory of every artifact recorded as recovered. There are no mentions of what caused him to pull out or anything that might lend to the private donor withdrawing their support or Dr. Charon calling off the project.”

Seteth studied her for a moment. “Does your interest in being part of this dig only have to do with your father?”

“No,” Byleth assured. “I’m interested in what we might be able to recover and how it can support my thesis, but I won’t say I’m not curious.”

She closed her laptop and stood up from the desk. She pulled her bag up and prepared to head out of Seteth’s office. “My father was a different man after that expedition than when he went into it. I do want to know why, and I don’t want that to happen to anyone else, either, if I can help it.”

- ~ - ~ - ~ -

Garreg Mach Monastery - 21 Red Wolf Moon, Unification Year

A knock at the door drew Byleth’s attention and she turned in her seat to look at the entrance to her room. It was one of the monastery’s monks who stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter. Byleth waved her in and the monk bowed briefly before stepping in.

“Your Grace, I have received word from an advanced scout that His Majesty and the court will be arriving in the next few hours.”

Byleth smiled faintly. “Thank you, but please, I’m not the Archbishop yet, so Professor or Byleth is more than fine.”

The monk shook her head, but she was smiling as well. “With all due respect, you are ascending in rank tomorrow, Your Grace. You’ve been acting head of the church for several months as well.” She bowed briefly once more before leaving the room, leaving Byleth alone again.

Byleth sighed and stood from her desk, heading towards her balcony. She pushed open the doors and stepped outside. The stone was cold against her bare feet and the air was chilly enough that she instantly shivered. Byleth looked up at the clear blue sky and twisted the ring on her finger thoughtfully.

After the war had ended, Dimitri had stayed for a month of negotiations with the church and for his coronation before his council of advisors had finally managed to get him to return to Fhirdiad. Byleth missed him dearly–him and Felix and Sylvain and Ingrid and Dedue who had returned with him. Annette and Ashe had stayed at the monastery for another couple of weeks before they too left for the capital, leaving Byleth with only Mercedes, Flayn, Seteth, and the Knights of Seiros.

She and Dimitri had announced their engagement officially on the day of his coronation, but all of their close friends had known much before that point. It had been just over a month now, since all the former Blue Lions had been in one place and even though part of Byleth was dreading her formal ascension to the head of the church, she was grateful for the opportunity it offered to gather her friends and allies in one place.

Of course, there was also the wedding that would follow Byleth’s ascension. She and Dimitri had argued about the wedding for nearly two weeks since while they both wanted a smaller affair, Dimitri had been the only one willing to go through with a small event. Byleth knew that a private wedding would invite more scrutiny than the marriage of the church and the state already would. She also knew it would be important for Dimitri to use the wedding as a political event to continue to smooth relations with former Empire territories. Eventually, her argument had won out and they’d been thrown into planning the wedding of the century.

Byleth didn’t linger too long on the balcony. The chill was going to get to her and she really couldn’t afford to get sick with a few very important days ahead of her. She slipped back inside her chambers and moved to pull on a pair of slip-on shoes to chase away lingering chills. The ornate furniture and decorations in the room felt wrong to her. Three weeks after the war, Rhea had departed and Byleth had moved into the former archbishop’s chambers.

Byleth ran her hand along the top of the dresser near the balcony and frowned. Being in Rhea’s old room felt weird enough on its own, but the fact that Byleth had not gotten a moment alone with Rhea to ask about what Seteth had told her before the former archbishop had departed made her feel even more uncomfortable.

Seteth’s words, and their implications, weighed on her daily. She had not managed to get another candid conversation with her advisor since that day two months ago. Flayn too, seemed to be avoiding Byleth or only approaching her when there were other people around. Byleth pulled her hand off the dresser and touched it to the left side of her chest. As always, there was no heartbeat beneath her palm and she exhaled wearily.

Another sharp knock on the door caused Byleth to jolt upright and snap her hand back to her side. This intruder was a much more welcome sight than the monk who had interrupted her earlier.

“Mercedes!” Byleth exclaimed as her friend stepped into the room.

“Hello Professor!” Mercedes replied cheerfully. “You look lovely,” she complimented.

Byleth blinked and took in her own outfit. She was wearing one of the ceremonial dresses that had been commissioned for her, but it was nowhere near as high end as the dress she would be wearing for her ascension tomorrow. She smoothed her hands over the cream-coloured fabric and smiled softly.

“Thank you. What are you doing up here? I thought you were going to wait in the entrance hall for the others.”

Mercedes laughed. “Well, Professor, we sent someone up to let you know they were almost here, but you never reappeared, so I decided to come fetch you myself.”

“They’re almost here?” Byleth repeated. When the monk had mentioned that they would be arriving in a few hours, she had not been expecting their arrival in the next half hour.

Mercedes’s eyes were shining. “Their party had just been spotted entering the monastery grounds when I came up.”

- ~ -

Standing outside the main entrance of the monastery, Byleth felt like her blood was singing. The first few riders of the party had just crossed into the marketplace of the monastery and already two of the riders were breaking in her direction. Above them, a pegasus whinnied and descended.

Sylvain and Felix, the first two riders, dismounted and covered the remaining distance on foot. Ingrid barely managed to get herself off of her pegasus before she was also breaking towards Byleth and Mercedes. Felix reached her first and he paused, forcing himself into a stiff bow. Byleth rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t reciprocate immediately, but he did pat her back after a moment.

As soon as she released Felix, Sylvain pulled her into a tight hug. Sylvain was wearing more armour than Felix so the hug felt stiffer, but he was warm and solid against her and Byleth drank in his familiarity. She pulled away from Sylvain and turned to hug Ingrid as well. After she had hugged the last of the trio, Byleth stepped back and smiled broadly.

“Welcome back,” she greeted.

Sylvain laughed. “Come on, Professor, we know we’re not the ones you really want to see.” He gestured behind him where the rest of the party was arriving including Ashe, Annette, Gustave, and Dedue.

Byleth’s breath caught as she recognized the rider at the front of the pack. He seemed to have noticed her as well, practically leaping off of his mount and jogging towards her. Byleth brushed past her former students to move towards him, nearly tripping on her dress as she descended the steps. He was in front of her before she could trip, his hands gripping her forearms as he stared at her face. A dazzling smile cracked across Dimitri’s expression and Byleth felt herself smile too.

“Hello, my beloved,” Dimitri greeted gently.

“I missed you,” Byleth said. She had intended for a more eloquent greeting, but her heart had won out and she had spoken the naked truth instead.

The life glimmering in Dimitri’s good eye softened and he bent his head, pressing his forehead to hers. “I missed you too, Byleth,” he murmured.

Byleth didn’t get to reply before he was kissing her. Her hands framed his face as she kissed him back fiercely, pouring a month’s worth of emotion into their reunion kiss. It wasn’t the most proper or befitting of greetings for two authority figures, but it was the genuine, real reaction of two young people in love who had nearly lost each other in a brutal 5-year war. Finally–and unfortunately–Byleth had to pull away, breathing hard.

She laughed when Dimitri didn’t let her pull far away and she felt her adoration for him cause tears to prickle at the corners of her eyes. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone and smiled warmly.

“I don’t know if that was the most proper greeting,” she teased.

Dimitri’s laugh rumbled in his chest. “A man can be excused for missing his fiancé,” Dimitri refuted and Byleth laughed again.

“Welcome back, my love,” she said quietly. “It’s good to see you.”

“And I am always glad to see you,” he replied. He looked past her towards the monastery where many of the clergy were gathered to watch his arrival. “I really have made a scene, haven’t I?”

Byleth slipped her hand into his and tugged him back towards the monastery. “Come on, I want to hear about Fhirdiad. I want to hear from all of you. Surely we can spare an afternoon in the Blue Lion’s classroom to reconnect?”

Dimitri followed her lead as they walked towards the monastery. “You’ll get no complaints from me on that, but won’t Seteth protest?”

Byleth huffed. “I am not Archbishop until tomorrow, but I do hope that he’ll allow me this time with my friends before I saddle myself with responsibility for the rest of my life.”

“I suppose I could busy myself with keeping our guests from Fhirdiad occupied,” Seteth admitted, catching the end of Byleth’s sentence as she and Dimitri rejoined the group gathered at the monastery’s entrance. “Your Majesty, it is nice to see you, as always,” her advisor added for pleasantness’s sake.

Byleth beamed and pulled Dimitri past Seteth heading into the monastery. Their friends, including the rest of the Blue Lions plus Flayn, followed them as Byleth led the way. Byleth watched her friends as they walked, noting who was talking to who and the expressions on faces.

Dedue was listening intently to Mercedes as she spoke softly, Ashe was chatting with Flayn, Annette seemed to be having some kind of minimal conversation with Felix, and Ingrid and Sylvain were conversing in light and teasing tones. Byleth smiled to herself as she watched them and tightened her grip on Dimitri’s hand unintentionally.

“You look satisfied, love, is there something you’d like to share?” Dimitri asked curiously.

Byleth laughed lightly. “I don’t want to scare this away,” she admitted, gently tilting her head in Felix and Annette’s direction. Felix’s ears were pink at the tips and Annette’s cheeks had a rosy glow.

“Ah,” Dimitri replied, his own lips twitching into a smile. “Well I could let it go, but I know Duke Fraldarius has been spending much more time in conversation with Baron Dominic.”

Byleth squeezed his hand. “I wonder why that could be,” she replied teasingly. “Perhaps the same reason why Ashe has been my best communicator with Brigid recently.”

“Or why the son of the esteemed Margrave Gautier has taken to spending his time split between his own lands and the lands of Count Galatea,” Dimitri replied, glancing over at his other childhood friends.

Byleth shook her head fondly. “I don’t think our wedding will be the only one in the future, my love.”

“No, I would be inclined to agree with you on that,” Dimitri hummed.

Finally, their little group reached the room that used to be the Blue Lion’s classroom. All of them stopped just outside the room as if none of them could make themselves set foot inside the room. After a moment of nothing, Byleth dropped Dimitri’s hand and stepped forward across the threshold.

The monastery’s reconstruction effort had obviously begun to move into areas like the classroom since all the furniture was righted and placed mostly back where it had been before the war. The bookshelves were emptier than they used to be, thanks to thieves, and Byleth’s blackboard that had been used for lectures was leaning in two large, broken pieces against the rear wall.

Byleth moved towards it like a magnet and ran her fingers across the still chalk-dusted surface with a wistful smile on her face.

“This place feels like it was frozen in time,” Sylvain said idly as he stepped in and moved towards the windows on the front wall.

Felix snorted. “I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve been here since the war ended,” Ashe admitted.

Annette nodded. “Me either. I used to come here to work on things when everywhere else was crowded.”

“We’ve shared a lot of memories in this place,” Ingrid agreed. She walked curiously over to one of the bookshelves and pressed her fingers in the empty spaces between books.

“Will you get the Officer’s Academy up and running again, Professor?” Dedue asked after a moment.

Byleth blinked and she realized that she honestly hadn’t even considered it until that point. She had been focusing so much of her effort on unification campaigns and the physical and spiritual repairs to the church that she had almost forgotten it was once a school as well.

“I think we should try,” Dimitri answered for her. He stepped up next to Byleth and wrapped a warm arm around her waist. “So much good came out of this place.”

“I think it would be easy enough to convince my brother to divert some efforts into getting this place all fixed up,” Flayn said brightly. “As much as he tries to pretend, I know he has a soft spot for the Academy and for the Blue Lions House especially since you all did take me on as a student partway through the year.”

“We’d all have to get together more often in that case,” Mercedes said cheerfully. “An annual gathering to celebrate the new classes,” she suggested.

Sylvain chuckled, throwing an arm over Felix’s shoulder as he headed for the centre of the room. “I like that idea, Mercedes. It reminds us all of that fateful day we all took a chance to return here and we met up with our Professor and our Prince again.”

Dimitri tensed at her side, but Sylvain’s words held no malice and he relaxed after a moment. Slowly, the rest of the Blue Lions congregated at the front of the classroom. Annette and Mercedes had linked their arms while Sylvain had thrown his other arm over Ingrid’s shoulders as well. Ashe moved to stand between Ingrid and Annette, Dedue stood between Mercedes and Dimitri, and Flayn slipped in between Byleth and Felix.

In their odd, sort-of circle, Byleth felt a lump well up in her throat. She loved these people more than she knew she was capable of. The moment felt like it needed a toast of some sort to cement it, so Byleth swiped Dimitri’s flask from its position on his belt. Her fiancé made a noise of surprise, but Byleth just ignored him and raised the flask.

“To the best students I could have asked for and the best group of friends I could have ever needed.”

Smiles rippled around the room and Byleth took a swig from the flask, letting the hard liquor Dimitri was carrying burn down her throat as she swallowed. She handed the flask off to him and he took a sip before passing it off to Dedue. The flask made its way around the ring and everyone drank to differing successes (Ashe, Annette, and Flayn pulling strange faces while the rest managed to stomach it with little reaction and Sylvain even took two sips).

“Thank you, my friends,” Byleth continued as she received the flask back from Flayn. “I am so grateful you were all able to come to support me in this endeavour. Your support means so much.”

“Of course, Professor,” Ingrid replied gently. “You believed in us when no one else did so it was only fair that we did the same.”

“Besides,” Dimitri continued, “my rule is nothing without the support of the Church of Seiros.”

Byleth rolled her eyes and elbowed him, but he just tightened his grip on her waist and leaned down to kiss her temple. She smiled.

[mermaidssonshipss]

The Assistant - Part 1

Hello lovies! So first off I’d like to start off by saying this isn’t the usual kind of assistant imagine; in this one, Harry is the assistant! Also, I’m giving the girl a name in this one just because it’s a longer one and it makes sense to have a name to refer to! You can change the name if you’d like, or not. All up to you! Also, this is going to be split into 2 parts because there’s… a lot. There will be smut in both parts!

Warnings: Smut & Language & alcohol(?)

Word Count: 4,610

“Sorry is not enough, Amy. Do you understand what you may have just done? I have overlooked your silly, incompetent mistakes for months now because they could easily be fixed, but this, my dear, is messing with my company’s revenue. The money we make to keep everyone here, including you, employed,” her voice was laced with fury as she spoke slowly, the quietness of her voice only making her seem more intimidating as she leaned over Amy’s desk, placing her hands on either side of the unopened laptop in front of Amy.

As per usual, Harry’s gaze wandered over the curve of her ass and he couldn’t help but wonder how firm it would feel under his hands, but the thought of his large hand splayed over it caused him to clear his throat and focus on the pug mug Amy had settled on her desk to clear his mind of any improper thoughts. She was his boss, for crying out loud, but he couldn’t deny that over the past 6 months he’d been working for Whimsy, he had tugged one out to the thought of her an embarrassing amount of times. He figured tonight would be another one of those nights, because the sight of her bent over a desk, angry, was something that never failed to work him up.

By the time Harry had snapped back to attention, Amy was almost crying and Whimsy was, as expected, fuming, which was Harry’s cue to step in.

OR Whimsy’s new assistant Harry is a wonderful addition to both the company, and Whimsy’s life.

Whimsy’s eyes fell upon the tall and well-built boy who was sat in the waiting room of her works building, just waiting for him to be called into her office. Her eyebrows immediately shot up as she continued to scan him as he relaxed back in his chair, his large hand currently swallowing up the small phone in it. While he was going to be her new assistant, this was her first time seeing him; her former assistant, Huntlea, had interviewed him and had the final decision on who she felt fit the company best. Huntlea had gotten pregnant with her 2nd child, and her husband and her both agreed they would rather raise their children outside of the city, causing them to move 4 hours away from Whimsy’s office in New York City, therefore creating the need for a new assistant.

“Harry Styles?” She announced, her voice strong as she stood tall at the entryway, her black stilettos causing her to stand at a good 5’10, her usual height being around 5’5.

Whimsy was young, and she was a spit fire who ran her business with an iron fist but who also sympathized with her employees when it was necessary. At the young age of 20, she was thrust into the position of CEO of Smith’s Marketing Company after her grandmother had died, leaving the business to her. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that the business was going to be left to her, but it was a surprise at how soon it had happened, but she accepted it with grace and poise. She was now 22, and the business was doing better than anyone had ever expected under her new ownership.

Harry stood up from his seat quickly and his eyes landed on her and he instantly did a double take, his heart rate picking up as he scanned her over. She was gorgeous, and the tight black pencil skirt that was currently hugging her ass perfectly was making it hard not to ogle at the young woman standing before him as he approached her, his hand outstretched.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss. Smith,” his handshake was firm, as was hers, both letting it linger longer than a normal handshake would before pulling away.

“And you as well, Mr. Styles. Please follow me into my office,” she promptly turned on her heels and began leading the way to her office that was at the end of the hall, Harry’s eyes shamelessly watching the way her hips moved in her skirt as he trailed behind her.

They entered the large office and Whimsy made her way behind the deck, taking a seat in her cozy chair as she gestured for Harry to sit on the couch that was placed in front of her.

“First we’ll start by discussing salary, which I’m sure Huntlea touched on just a bit but there have been a few changes,” she grabbed a packet of paper and flipped through it, quickly reaching the salary pay and sliding it across the desk with a pen, “Due to your qualifications, I’ve decided to up your salary a bit, so instead of the 40k a year Huntlea and you discussed, you’ve been jumped to 55k. Every six months you will be rewarded a salary raise based on your performance. We never cut salaries here; if you aren’t doing a satisfactory job, you get fired.” Harry nodded as she spoke, his eyes scanning over the paper before quickly signing it and sliding it her way. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith. For the salary raise, and for the opportunity to be your assistant,” he sent her a calm smile as he sat up straight on the couch, his eyes watching her lips quirked up on a soft smile.

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles. Now, as for the job, don’t expect it to be like normal assistants. I don’t expect you to fetch my lunch or my coffee or any of that; the second you accepted this job, you became as important to this company as I am. You’ll be helping me talk to big clients, making big deals, and in general keeping me organized. Do not be afraid to speak up; I want your opinions, and I want to know if you think something I’m doing isn’t a good idea, I won’t be offended,” Harry nodded along as she spoke, his green eyes staying on hers, holding confidence, and what was soon turning into fondness as she continued to speak.

“Now,” she continued, sitting up straighter in her chair as she placed her hands on her desk intertwining his fingers, “I’m young, Mr. Styles. I’m sure you know this. In fact, you’re a year older than me, but that does not mean I am a push over. I am not just some rich snob who was handed everything; yes, my grandmother gave me her business, but she had two other grandchildren to choose from, and she chose me, the youngest, for a reason. Do not cross me. Do not try and betray me; I’ve already had one assistant try that, and now there is no company in New York City who will hire her. Do not try to take advantage of my age, because you will not like the outcome; do you understand?” Harry’s eyes were wide as she spoke, his palms beginning to sweat; he had no intention of do anything but his job, but hearing her speak with such confidence was intriguing.

“I understand. Wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than my job,” he replied back, and Whimsy only nodded in response.

“Huntlea chose you for a reason, so I do hope you live up to both of our expectations.”

Harry had exceeded everyone’s expectations.

After being at the company for only six months, it had become clear that not only was he what was best for the company, he was also what was best at keeping Whimsy sane. Harry was nothing short of the model employee; getting his work done, helping Whimsy with hers, and remaining professional, unless, of course, Whimsy and him were alone. Harry quickly learned that both got along well not only as coworkers, but as friends, and when it was just the two of them, Whimsy had no problem with them acting like it. In fact, Harry was the only person in the office who was ever allowed to use her first name, but of course when no one else was around. To everyone in the office, she was Miss. Smith the CEO, and he was Mr. Styles the assistant, but between them they were quickly becoming best friends.

Whimsy’s eyes were slanted into a hard glare as she looked at the screen of her laptop, the email she was currently reading causing her blood to boil as she went over every word; one of her employees had made an amateur mistake, but it was an amateur mistake that if not fixed immediately, would cost them 100k.

“V’ got the coffee, love…” Harry stormed into Whimsy’s office, kicking the door shut behind him but quickly stopping in his tracks as he saw the look on Whimsy’s face; she was pissed, to say the least. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he was worried for the person who was about to be on the receiving end of her wrath. In the six months he’d been working with her, he had seen her lose it on two employees (who were promptly fired) and he had felt like crying when she was done with them each time, even though he had been sat on the other side of the room each time.

Whimsy lifted her gaze from the laptop screen up to Harry, her eyes softening as she saw him standing in the middle of her office with coffee in his hand and an unsure smile on his face. “Told you for the past six months you don’t have to grab my coffee, but thank you,” she said, sending him a tight smile as he approached her and handed her the coffee. “Go to get myself coffee, pet. Would feel like a proper dick if I showed up without anything for you,” he walked up behind her, his hands landing on her tense shoulders as he looked over her head, reading the email that was the cause for her deathly glare as he had walked in.

The feeling of Harry’s hands on her shoulders instantly caused the tension running throughout Whimsy to dissipate as she relaxed back into his touch, her eyes closing as she focused on her deep breathing.

“Do ya wan’ me to take care o’ this, love?” The pet names rolled off his tongue easily when it came to her, and he often found himself struggling to keep them in when others were around. The first time he had referred to her as “love,” they had been working late in the office one night, surrounded by Chinese takeout as Whimsy was about to have a full-on breakdown. He wasn’t thinking about it as it rolled out of his mouth as he pushed the Chinese away from her and tried to calm her down, but she didn’t snap at him or scold him for it being unprofessional, so he kept saying it. Soon, he could notice a small twinkle in her eyes whenever he used one of the many pet names he had for her, so he decided to keep using them.

“No,” she shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh, “This isn’t the first time she’s messed up, but it’s the first time it might affect our revenue. Need to get her to fix it, and I need it to be fixed now,” she shrugged his hands off her shoulder and he took that as his cue to step back, knowing she would be standing up soon, ready to confront the coworker in question.

She was always wearing those god damn tight skirts, which was the first thing he noticed as she pushed back from her chair and stood, tossing her long, wavy ponytail over her shoulder and straitening said skirt out.

The entire floor went quiet the second Whimsy and Harry stepped out of the elevator, everyone’s eyes watching Whimsy as she made her way across the room. It wasn’t hard for the office to gauge when Whimsy was angry; instead of stepping onto the floor with a smile on her face and greeting every employee she made eye contact with, she was dead silent and walked with a purpose. Her stilettos echoed through the silence as she approached Amy’s desk, Harry trailing behind her with his hands shoved into his suit pant pockets.  

“Amy,” Whimsy’s voice was calm as she spoke, but if eyes could reflect fire, hers would currently be up in flames.

Amy caught Harry’s gaze first before she flickered her eyes over to Whimsy; she knew exactly what she had done, she had gotten an email the second she sat down in her office chair.

“I’m so sorry, Miss. Smith; I got the email this morning and I am doing my best to try and fix it,” Amy rushed, her eyes pleading with Harry as she spoke; the office knew Harry was the only one who could calm Whimsy down, but Harry only raised an eyebrow at Amy as he leaned against the wall near her desk, crossing his arms as he slowly chewed on the mint gum in his mouth, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he waited for Whimsy to speak. Costing the company money was serious, and he wasn’t planning on intervening.

“Sorry is not enough, Amy. Do you understand what you may have just done? I have overlooked your silly, incompetent mistakes for months now because they could easily be fixed, but this, my dear, is messing with my company’s revenue. The money we make to keep everyone here, including you, employed,” her voice was laced with fury as she spoke slowly, the quietness of her voice only making her seem more intimidating as she leaned over Amy’s desk, placing her hands on either side of the unopened laptop in front of Amy.

As per usual, Harry’s gaze wandered over the curve of her ass and he couldn’t help but wonder how firm it would feel under his hands, but the thought of his large hand splayed over it caused him to clear his throat and focus on the pug mug Amy had settled on her desk to clear his mind of any improper thoughts. She was his boss, for crying out loud, but he couldn’t deny that over the past 6 months he’d been working for Whimsy, he had tugged one out to the thought of her an embarrassing amount of times. He figured tonight would be another one of those nights, because the sight of her bent over a desk, angry, was something that never failed to work him up.

By the time Harry had snapped back to attention, Amy was almost crying and Whimsy was, as expected, fuming, which was Harry’s cue to step in.

“Miss. Smith,” he spoke, his voice causing Whimsy to push herself off of Amy’s desk and look over at him as he approached her, his hand landing on her shoulder softly, “Why don’ ya’ go back to ya’ office and start contacting the businesses involved, I’ll help Amy try and fix this,” he squeezed her shoulder lightly as she pursed her lips, thinking over his proposition before eventually nodding her head.

“Fine, but if this isn’t fixed by the end of the day, you’re fired,” her stare was back on Amy as she spoke before she sent Harry a final nod and began to walk back to the elevator. The office was quiet the entire time, just waiting for the elevator doors to close before they all let out the breaths they were holding in.

“Thank you,” Amy breathed, blinking her eyelashes up at Harry as he looked down at her, a tight line adorning his lips.

“Only did it so she wouldn’t get more stressed than she is, had nothing to do with you. V’been fixin’ your mistakes since I got here, m’ not fixin’ this one.”

The problem was not fixed by the end of the day, meaning it was now midnight and Whimsy was about to rip her hair out. Her heels had been chucked across her office long ago and her long hair let down from the tight ponytail it had been in all day. She was sure her head was going to explode anytime soon, and all she wanted to do was relax with a bottle of wine and go to sleep.

A knock on her office door brought her out of the daze she was in, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she had thought she was the only one in the office. “Come in,” she called, her voice hoarse from the lack of use it had endeared the past few hours, not including the few screaming matches she had with her laptop. The second the door opened and she saw Harry standing on the other side of it, she could feel her entire body relax, a small smile gracing her lips as she spotted a bottle of wine in each of his hands.

“Figured you’d still be here cause ya’ weren’t answerin’ ya’ bloody phone,” he made his way across the office, and Whimsy noted that he was now wearing a pair of skintight black skinny jeans and a large, comfy tan knit sweater, “Started to worry me, pet,” he sent her a pointed look and all she could do was sheepishly smile, “But then I just called ya’ loft and they informed me you still hadn’t come in fo’ the night, so I knew you were here. Figured you could use some wine right about now.”

“I’m sorry I worried you, but also I’m not because it got me wine,” she stood up and walked over to him, her hands grabbing onto the fabric of his soft sweater and tugging it softly, “Looks comfy, I’m jealous,” she pouted, and Harry looked down at her with an amused expression as she sighed; it was always funny to him how short and small she truly was when her heels were off, but he loved it.

“Let’s get some wine in ya’, and you’ll start feeling cozy too, hopefully,” he placed both bottles on her desk and quickly opened one up (he had brought his own wine cork, because the last time he showed up to her office with wine, neither of them had a wine cork and it was a disaster trying to get the damned thing open), grabbing a glass from her desk and filling it up, handing it off to her before filling his own up.

For the next few hours they both sat on the floor of her office, papers and her laptop in front of them as they worked until they physically felt like they both were going to explode.

“Fucking finally,” she breathed as they had eventually resolved the issue, setting everything back to where it needed to be. She threw herself back onto the floor, sending Harry a large, wine drunk smile as she looked up at him, which he quickly reciprocated, leaning down next to her on his side and propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her.

“Told ya’ we’d be able to fix it, pet,” both were tipsy, but not enough to hamper their judgement or cause them to not remember anything tomorrow.

“I like when you call me pet,” Whimsy spoke softly, one of her hands reaching up so she could trail her finger along his cheekbone, “Like when you call me anything actually, except for Miss. Smith,” her nose scrunched up, causing Harry to laugh as he caught her wandering hand in his own, holding onto it, “Makes me feel like I’m old. Like I’m my grandma, not that there’s anything wrong with her, she was a lovely woman but I’m young,” she rambled on, her cheeks heating up from the warmth that was spreading throughout the hand that Harry was holding. “Mmhm,” he agreed, his eyes trailing along her body, lingering at the waistband of her skirt longer than they should, which Whimsy was quick to notice, but she didn’t see the intention behind the lingering stare.

“It’s uncomfortable,” she whined, referring to the skirt which took Harry a moment to catch onto before he was sending her a smirk.

“Take it off then, love,” his voice was deep and slow as he spoke, the alcohol running through his veins clearly catching up with his mouth. He expected her to swat at him and tell him to screw off, something he was used to when he would flirt with her, but instead she jumped up and began unzipping the back of the skirt, causing his eyes to widen, “Shit, love.. I was kidding,” he spoke frantically as he sat up, but he wasn’t sure if his heart was racing because his boss was about to take her skirt off in front of him or… well, that was truly the only reason.

“I knoooow,” she huffed, struggling with the zipper before her eyes lit up in victory as she yanked it down, “But it was a good suggestion. So, I’m listening, because this stupid thing has been annoying me all day,” she was now tugging it down her thighs, and Harry couldn’t help the audible groan he let out as her red lace panties came into clear view, and he knew if she turned around he would finally have a perfect view of her ass. Soon the skirt was pooling around her ankles and the tight fitting white button up she had tucked into it was falling loosely around her hips.

In that moment, Harry was thanking god the only light in the room was coming from her laptop and the city lights that were streaming in through the wall in her office, which was just glass, or she would be able to see the clear bulge that was now straining against his pants. He let out a huff and stood up slowly, realizing he really had to get them both home, their own homes, or he was going to lose it. Except when he turned to face her again and saw her leaning against her desk, he knew he was fucked.

“Thank you for helping me tonight,” she spoke, breaking the silence as she watched him, her hands resting on her desk as he walked up to her, his hand coming up as he captured his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, tugging on it lightly.

“We should probably get home, kitten,” if Harry had been paying attention, he would’ve noticed the way Whimsy clenched her thighs together as the pet name kitten rolled off his tongue; it was the first time he had ever used it on her, and she wanted to hear it again.

“Kitten, hm? That’s a new one,” she reached out for his sweater, as she had done when he first got there, but this time she was tugging him towards her, causing him to stumble over his feet and his hands to catch onto her desk on either side of her hips, “Think I like it the most.”

“Is that so?” His lips were now dangerously close to hers, both of their breaths mingling; Harry wanted to kiss her in that very moment, but he knew the second they kissed things would change. Both of them could feel the tension in the room, and it was clear by the way Whimsy was currently wrapping her bare legs around his hips and pushing him in-between her legs that she didn’t want to ignore it.

Without thinking it over, his lips attached themselves to her jaw, slowly making their way down her neck until he heard her take in a sharp breath as he came across her soft spot. His lips quickly puckered around the skin, sucking it into his mouth as his hands moved to grip onto her hips, pressing his bulge into her now wet core. She let out a quiet whimper as he grinded against her clothed center, her hands slipping under his sweatshirt and trailing over his defined chest, causing him to bite down on the skin harshly before he traced his tongue over it to sooth the sting. Harry wasn’t sure exactly where any of this was going, but the second she moaned out his name, he couldn’t stop his hand from slipping into her panties and quickly flicking over her clit before tracing down her slick walls.

“Harry…” she whimpered, causing him to release the skin of her neck, his eyes now moving to where his hand was working against her center, watching as her hips grinded into his hand. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes watching hers as he rolled the sleeves of his sweatshirt up before moving his hand back to her and slowly slipping a finger inside of her tight cunt, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt how tight she was around his finger before he slowly slipped another inside of her. She was absolutely drenched, making it easy for him to quickly move his fingers in and out of her at a pace that had her back falling against her desk as her breathing picked up, not so quiet whimpers leaving her mouth as he skillfully applied pressure onto her clit with his thumb.

“Ya so fuckin’ wet, kitten,” he groaned, watching his fingers move in and out of her core, each time coming out even slicker than before; he could feel her clit throbbing under the pressure of his thumb, and the sight of her withering underneath his hands as she chased her orgasm against his fingers made him wonder what she would look like as his mouth was on her. Both of his fingers curled inside of her, dragging along her walls slowly before applying continued pressure onto that one spongy spot inside of her, causing her back to arch off her desk as she called out his name.

“Fuck, Harry… fuck m’ so close,” she was an absolute mess underneath him, but Harry wasn’t done with her, not yet. The second he saw her legs start to shake he quickly removed his fingers from inside of her, causing her to let out a distressed cry, her eyes flying open and quickly widening as she saw him slipping the fingers that had been inside of her into his mouth, his tongue lapping up her slickness.

“Do ya mind if I properly taste ya?” His hands were already curling around the edges of her panties, just waiting for her to give him permission. She nodded her head quickly, a chorus of “yes’s” leaving her mouth, causing Harry to smirk as he dragged her panties down her legs and got down on his knees, leaving him eye level with her dripping core.

He slowly dragged a finger over her sensitive clit causing her to take in a sharp breath, but nothing prepared her for the feeling of his lips sucking the sensitive nub into his mouth. His hands were on either side of her thighs, pushing them apart as he traced his tongue across her entrance, quickly dipping inside of her cunt causing him to moan against her. Whimsy’s hands flew to the hair on top of his head, quickly grabbing onto the strands and yanking on them softly as he dragged his lips back over her clit, sucking on it until she was seeing stars. His fingers quickly found a home inside of her cunt once again, his mouth never once letting up on her swollen nub. She couldn’t do much but whimper Harry’s name and tug on his hair, but that seemed to be enough to spur him on. He had never seen a more beautiful sight, and he was sure in this moment he could spend forever between her thighs, watching her wither and struggle to catch her breath. The combination of him sucking on her clit and pounding his fingers into her wet cunt mercilessly was enough to send Whimsy over the edge, her mouth opening against a silent cry as her legs began to tremble as she released around his fingers, struggling to blink the white spots in front of her eyes away as she caught her breath.

“Harry,” she whined as he continued to work her through her orgasm, her hands trying to push him away from her oversensitive clit, causing him to smirk against her. With one final kiss to the sensitive nub, he pulled away, the sight of his chin now covered in her release absolutely sinful as he repeated his actions from earlier and placed his fingers inside of his mouth, licking them clean.

“Reckon I should call ya kitten more,” he commented as he wiped his chin off on the back of his hand, causing her to let out a breathless laugh. He was quick to gather her panties off the floor and slide them back up her legs, helping her sit up so he could slide them over her ass.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, stepping down from her desk on wobbly legs and Harry was quick to place his hands on her hips to steady her, sending her a smirk that had her melting once again.

“My pleasure, kitten.” What the hell had they just done?

[mermaidsonships]

The Assistant Part 1

Hello lovies! So first off I’d like to start off by saying this isn’t the usual kind of assistant imagine; in this one, Harry is the assistant! Also, I’m giving the girl a name in this one just because it’s a longer one and it makes sense to have a name to refer to! You can change the name if you’d like, or not. All up to you! Also, this is going to be split into 2 parts because there’s… a lot. There will be smut in both parts!

Warnings: Smut & Language & alcohol(?)

Word Count: 4,610

“Sorry is not enough, Amy. Do you understand what you may have just done? I have overlooked your silly, incompetent mistakes for months now because they could easily be fixed, but this, my dear, is messing with my company’s revenue. The money we make to keep everyone here, including you, employed,” her voice was laced with fury as she spoke slowly, the quietness of her voice only making her seem more intimidating as she leaned over Amy’s desk, placing her hands on either side of the unopened laptop in front of Amy.

As per usual, Harry’s gaze wandered over the curve of her ass and he couldn’t help but wonder how firm it would feel under his hands, but the thought of his large hand splayed over it caused him to clear his throat and focus on the pug mug Amy had settled on her desk to clear his mind of any improper thoughts. She was his boss, for crying out loud, but he couldn’t deny that over the past 6 months he’d been working for Whimsy, he had tugged one out to the thought of her an embarrassing amount of times. He figured tonight would be another one of those nights, because the sight of her bent over a desk, angry, was something that never failed to work him up.

 By the time Harry had snapped back to attention, Amy was almost crying and Whimsy was, as expected, fuming, which was Harry’s cue to step in.

OR Whimsy’s new assistant Harry is a wonderful addition to both the company, and Whimsy’s life.

Whimsy’s eyes fell upon the tall and well-built boy who was sat in the waiting room of her works building, just waiting for him to be called into her office. Her eyebrows immediately shot up as she continued to scan him as he relaxed back in his chair, his large hand currently swallowing up the small phone in it. While he was going to be her new assistant, this was her first time seeing him; her former assistant, Huntlea, had interviewed him and had the final decision on who she felt fit the company best. Huntlea had gotten pregnant with her 2nd child, and her husband and her both agreed they would rather raise their children outside of the city, causing them to move 4 hours away from Whimsy’s office in New York City, therefore creating the need for a new assistant.

“Harry Styles?” She announced, her voice strong as she stood tall at the entryway, her black stilettos causing her to stand at a good 5’10, her usual height being around 5’5.

Whimsy was young, and she was a spit fire who ran her business with an iron fist but who also sympathized with her employees when it was necessary. At the young age of 20, she was thrust into the position of CEO of Smith’s Marketing Company after her grandmother had died, leaving the business to her. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that the business was going to be left to her, but it was a surprise at how soon it had happened, but she accepted it with grace and poise. She was now 22, and the business was doing better than anyone had ever expected under her new ownership.

Harry stood up from his seat quickly and his eyes landed on her and he instantly did a double take, his heart rate picking up as he scanned her over. She was gorgeous, and the tight black pencil skirt that was currently hugging her ass perfectly was making it hard not to ogle at the young woman standing before him as he approached her, his hand outstretched.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss. Smith,” his handshake was firm, as was hers, both letting it linger longer than a normal handshake would before pulling away.

“And you as well, Mr. Styles. Please follow me into my office,” she promptly turned on her heels and began leading the way to her office that was at the end of the hall, Harry’s eyes shamelessly watching the way her hips moved in her skirt as he trailed behind her.

They entered the large office and Whimsy made her way behind the deck, taking a seat in her cozy chair as she gestured for Harry to sit on the couch that was placed in front of her.

“First we’ll start by discussing salary, which I’m sure Huntlea touched on just a bit but there have been a few changes,” she grabbed a packet of paper and flipped through it, quickly reaching the salary pay and sliding it across the desk with a pen, “Due to your qualifications, I’ve decided to up your salary a bit, so instead of the 40k a year Huntlea and you discussed, you’ve been jumped to 55k. Every six months you will be rewarded a salary raise based on your performance. We never cut salaries here; if you aren’t doing a satisfactory job, you get fired.” Harry nodded as she spoke, his eyes scanning over the paper before quickly signing it and sliding it her way. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith. For the salary raise, and for the opportunity to be your assistant,” he sent her a calm smile as he sat up straight on the couch, his eyes watching her lips quirked up on a soft smile.

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles. Now, as for the job, don’t expect it to be like normal assistants. I don’t expect you to fetch my lunch or my coffee or any of that; the second you accepted this job, you became as important to this company as I am. You’ll be helping me talk to big clients, making big deals, and in general keeping me organized. Do not be afraid to speak up; I want your opinions, and I want to know if you think something I’m doing isn’t a good idea, I won’t be offended,” Harry nodded along as she spoke, his green eyes staying on hers, holding confidence, and what was soon turning into fondness as she continued to speak.

“Now,” she continued, sitting up straighter in her chair as she placed her hands on her desk intertwining his fingers, “I’m young, Mr. Styles. I’m sure you know this. In fact, you’re a year older than me, but that does not mean I am a push over. I am not just some rich snob who was handed everything; yes, my grandmother gave me her business, but she had two other grandchildren to choose from, and she chose me, the youngest, for a reason. Do not cross me. Do not try and betray me; I’ve already had one assistant try that, and now there is no company in New York City who will hire her. Do not try to take advantage of my age, because you will not like the outcome; do you understand?” Harry’s eyes were wide as she spoke, his palms beginning to sweat; he had no intention of do anything but his job, but hearing her speak with such confidence was intriguing.

“I understand. Wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than my job,” he replied back, and Whimsy only nodded in response.

“Huntlea chose you for a reason, so I do hope you live up to both of our expectations.”

Harry had exceeded everyone’s expectations.

After being at the company for only six months, it had become clear that not only was he what was best for the company, he was also what was best at keeping Whimsy sane. Harry was nothing short of the model employee; getting his work done, helping Whimsy with hers, and remaining professional, unless, of course, Whimsy and him were alone. Harry quickly learned that both got along well not only as coworkers, but as friends, and when it was just the two of them, Whimsy had no problem with them acting like it. In fact, Harry was the only person in the office who was ever allowed to use her first name, but of course when no one else was around. To everyone in the office, she was Miss. Smith the CEO, and he was Mr. Styles the assistant, but between them they were quickly becoming best friends.

Whimsy’s eyes were slanted into a hard glare as she looked at the screen of her laptop, the email she was currently reading causing her blood to boil as she went over every word; one of her employees had made an amateur mistake, but it was an amateur mistake that if not fixed immediately, would cost them 100k.

“V’ got the coffee, love…” Harry stormed into Whimsy’s office, kicking the door shut behind him but quickly stopping in his tracks as he saw the look on Whimsy’s face; she was pissed, to say the least. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he was worried for the person who was about to be on the receiving end of her wrath. In the six months he’d been working with her, he had seen her lose it on two employees (who were promptly fired) and he had felt like crying when she was done with them each time, even though he had been sat on the other side of the room each time.

Whimsy lifted her gaze from the laptop screen up to Harry, her eyes softening as she saw him standing in the middle of her office with coffee in his hand and an unsure smile on his face. “Told you for the past six months you don’t have to grab my coffee, but thank you,” she said, sending him a tight smile as he approached her and handed her the coffee. “Go to get myself coffee, pet. Would feel like a proper dick if I showed up without anything for you,” he walked up behind her, his hands landing on her tense shoulders as he looked over her head, reading the email that was the cause for her deathly glare as he had walked in.

The feeling of Harry’s hands on her shoulders instantly caused the tension running throughout Whimsy to dissipate as she relaxed back into his touch, her eyes closing as she focused on her deep breathing.

“Do ya wan’ me to take care o’ this, love?” The pet names rolled off his tongue easily when it came to her, and he often found himself struggling to keep them in when others were around. The first time he had referred to her as “love,” they had been working late in the office one night, surrounded by Chinese takeout as Whimsy was about to have a full-on breakdown. He wasn’t thinking about it as it rolled out of his mouth as he pushed the Chinese away from her and tried to calm her down, but she didn’t snap at him or scold him for it being unprofessional, so he kept saying it. Soon, he could notice a small twinkle in her eyes whenever he used one of the many pet names he had for her, so he decided to keep using them.

“No,” she shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh, “This isn’t the first time she’s messed up, but it’s the first time it might affect our revenue. Need to get her to fix it, and I need it to be fixed now,” she shrugged his hands off her shoulder and he took that as his cue to step back, knowing she would be standing up soon, ready to confront the coworker in question.

She was always wearing those god damn tight skirts, which was the first thing he noticed as she pushed back from her chair and stood, tossing her long, wavy ponytail over her shoulder and straitening said skirt out.

The entire floor went quiet the second Whimsy and Harry stepped out of the elevator, everyone’s eyes watching Whimsy as she made her way across the room. It wasn’t hard for the office to gauge when Whimsy was angry; instead of stepping onto the floor with a smile on her face and greeting every employee she made eye contact with, she was dead silent and walked with a purpose. Her stilettos echoed through the silence as she approached Amy’s desk, Harry trailing behind her with his hands shoved into his suit pant pockets.  

“Amy,” Whimsy’s voice was calm as she spoke, but if eyes could reflect fire, hers would currently be up in flames.

Amy caught Harry’s gaze first before she flickered her eyes over to Whimsy; she knew exactly what she had done, she had gotten an email the second she sat down in her office chair.

“I’m so sorry, Miss. Smith; I got the email this morning and I am doing my best to try and fix it,” Amy rushed, her eyes pleading with Harry as she spoke; the office knew Harry was the only one who could calm Whimsy down, but Harry only raised an eyebrow at Amy as he leaned against the wall near her desk, crossing his arms as he slowly chewed on the mint gum in his mouth, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he waited for Whimsy to speak. Costing the company money was serious, and he wasn’t planning on intervening.

“Sorry is not enough, Amy. Do you understand what you may have just done? I have overlooked your silly, incompetent mistakes for months now because they could easily be fixed, but this, my dear, is messing with my company’s revenue. The money we make to keep everyone here, including you, employed,” her voice was laced with fury as she spoke slowly, the quietness of her voice only making her seem more intimidating as she leaned over Amy’s desk, placing her hands on either side of the unopened laptop in front of Amy.

As per usual, Harry’s gaze wandered over the curve of her ass and he couldn’t help but wonder how firm it would feel under his hands, but the thought of his large hand splayed over it caused him to clear his throat and focus on the pug mug Amy had settled on her desk to clear his mind of any improper thoughts. She was his boss, for crying out loud, but he couldn’t deny that over the past 6 months he’d been working for Whimsy, he had tugged one out to the thought of her an embarrassing amount of times. He figured tonight would be another one of those nights, because the sight of her bent over a desk, angry, was something that never failed to work him up.

By the time Harry had snapped back to attention, Amy was almost crying and Whimsy was, as expected, fuming, which was Harry’s cue to step in.

“Miss. Smith,” he spoke, his voice causing Whimsy to push herself off of Amy’s desk and look over at him as he approached her, his hand landing on her shoulder softly, “Why don’ ya’ go back to ya’ office and start contacting the businesses involved, I’ll help Amy try and fix this,” he squeezed her shoulder lightly as she pursed her lips, thinking over his proposition before eventually nodding her head.

“Fine, but if this isn’t fixed by the end of the day, you’re fired,” her stare was back on Amy as she spoke before she sent Harry a final nod and began to walk back to the elevator. The office was quiet the entire time, just waiting for the elevator doors to close before they all let out the breaths they were holding in.

“Thank you,” Amy breathed, blinking her eyelashes up at Harry as he looked down at her, a tight line adorning his lips.

“Only did it so she wouldn’t get more stressed than she is, had nothing to do with you. V’been fixin’ your mistakes since I got here, m’ not fixin’ this one.”

The problem was not fixed by the end of the day, meaning it was now midnight and Whimsy was about to rip her hair out. Her heels had been chucked across her office long ago and her long hair let down from the tight ponytail it had been in all day. She was sure her head was going to explode anytime soon, and all she wanted to do was relax with a bottle of wine and go to sleep.

A knock on her office door brought her out of the daze she was in, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she had thought she was the only one in the office. “Come in,” she called, her voice hoarse from the lack of use it had endeared the past few hours, not including the few screaming matches she had with her laptop. The second the door opened and she saw Harry standing on the other side of it, she could feel her entire body relax, a small smile gracing her lips as she spotted a bottle of wine in each of his hands.

“Figured you’d still be here cause ya’ weren’t answerin’ ya’ bloody phone,” he made his way across the office, and Whimsy noted that he was now wearing a pair of skintight black skinny jeans and a large, comfy tan knit sweater, “Started to worry me, pet,” he sent her a pointed look and all she could do was sheepishly smile, “But then I just called ya’ loft and they informed me you still hadn’t come in fo’ the night, so I knew you were here. Figured you could use some wine right about now.”

“I’m sorry I worried you, but also I’m not because it got me wine,” she stood up and walked over to him, her hands grabbing onto the fabric of his soft sweater and tugging it softly, “Looks comfy, I’m jealous,” she pouted, and Harry looked down at her with an amused expression as she sighed; it was always funny to him how short and small she truly was when her heels were off, but he loved it.

“Let’s get some wine in ya’, and you’ll start feeling cozy too, hopefully,” he placed both bottles on her desk and quickly opened one up (he had brought his own wine cork, because the last time he showed up to her office with wine, neither of them had a wine cork and it was a disaster trying to get the damned thing open), grabbing a glass from her desk and filling it up, handing it off to her before filling his own up.

For the next few hours they both sat on the floor of her office, papers and her laptop in front of them as they worked until they physically felt like they both were going to explode.

“Fucking finally,” she breathed as they had eventually resolved the issue, setting everything back to where it needed to be. She threw herself back onto the floor, sending Harry a large, wine drunk smile as she looked up at him, which he quickly reciprocated, leaning down next to her on his side and propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her.

“Told ya’ we’d be able to fix it, pet,” both were tipsy, but not enough to hamper their judgement or cause them to not remember anything tomorrow.

“I like when you call me pet,” Whimsy spoke softly, one of her hands reaching up so she could trail her finger along his cheekbone, “Like when you call me anything actually, except for Miss. Smith,” her nose scrunched up, causing Harry to laugh as he caught her wandering hand in his own, holding onto it, “Makes me feel like I’m old. Like I’m my grandma, not that there’s anything wrong with her, she was a lovely woman but I’m young,” she rambled on, her cheeks heating up from the warmth that was spreading throughout the hand that Harry was holding. “Mmhm,” he agreed, his eyes trailing along her body, lingering at the waistband of her skirt longer than they should, which Whimsy was quick to notice, but she didn’t see the intention behind the lingering stare.

“It’s uncomfortable,” she whined, referring to the skirt which took Harry a moment to catch onto before he was sending her a smirk.

“Take it off then, love,” his voice was deep and slow as he spoke, the alcohol running through his veins clearly catching up with his mouth. He expected her to swat at him and tell him to screw off, something he was used to when he would flirt with her, but instead she jumped up and began unzipping the back of the skirt, causing his eyes to widen, “Shit, love.. I was kidding,” he spoke frantically as he sat up, but he wasn’t sure if his heart was racing because his boss was about to take her skirt off in front of him or… well, that was truly the only reason.

“I knoooow,” she huffed, struggling with the zipper before her eyes lit up in victory as she yanked it down, “But it was a good suggestion. So, I’m listening, because this stupid thing has been annoying me all day,” she was now tugging it down her thighs, and Harry couldn’t help the audible groan he let out as her red lace panties came into clear view, and he knew if she turned around he would finally have a perfect view of her ass. Soon the skirt was pooling around her ankles and the tight fitting white button up she had tucked into it was falling loosely around her hips.

In that moment, Harry was thanking god the only light in the room was coming from her laptop and the city lights that were streaming in through the wall in her office, which was just glass, or she would be able to see the clear bulge that was now straining against his pants. He let out a huff and stood up slowly, realizing he really had to get them both home, their own homes, or he was going to lose it. Except when he turned to face her again and saw her leaning against her desk, he knew he was fucked.

“Thank you for helping me tonight,” she spoke, breaking the silence as she watched him, her hands resting on her desk as he walked up to her, his hand coming up as he captured his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, tugging on it lightly.

“We should probably get home, kitten,” if Harry had been paying attention, he would’ve noticed the way Whimsy clenched her thighs together as the pet name kitten rolled off his tongue; it was the first time he had ever used it on her, and she wanted to hear it again.

“Kitten, hm? That’s a new one,” she reached out for his sweater, as she had done when he first got there, but this time she was tugging him towards her, causing him to stumble over his feet and his hands to catch onto her desk on either side of her hips, “Think I like it the most.”

“Is that so?” His lips were now dangerously close to hers, both of their breaths mingling; Harry wanted to kiss her in that very moment, but he knew the second they kissed things would change. Both of them could feel the tension in the room, and it was clear by the way Whimsy was currently wrapping her bare legs around his hips and pushing him in-between her legs that she didn’t want to ignore it.

Without thinking it over, his lips attached themselves to her jaw, slowly making their way down her neck until he heard her take in a sharp breath as he came across her soft spot. His lips quickly puckered around the skin, sucking it into his mouth as his hands moved to grip onto her hips, pressing his bulge into her now wet core. She let out a quiet whimper as he grinded against her clothed center, her hands slipping under his sweatshirt and trailing over his defined chest, causing him to bite down on the skin harshly before he traced his tongue over it to sooth the sting. Harry wasn’t sure exactly where any of this was going, but the second she moaned out his name, he couldn’t stop his hand from slipping into her panties and quickly flicking over her clit before tracing down her slick walls.

“Harry…” she whimpered, causing him to release the skin of her neck, his eyes now moving to where his hand was working against her center, watching as her hips grinded into his hand. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes watching hers as he rolled the sleeves of his sweatshirt up before moving his hand back to her and slowly slipping a finger inside of her tight cunt, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt how tight she was around his finger before he slowly slipped another inside of her. She was absolutely drenched, making it easy for him to quickly move his fingers in and out of her at a pace that had her back falling against her desk as her breathing picked up, not so quiet whimpers leaving her mouth as he skillfully applied pressure onto her clit with his thumb.

“Ya so fuckin’ wet, kitten,” he groaned, watching his fingers move in and out of her core, each time coming out even slicker than before; he could feel her clit throbbing under the pressure of his thumb, and the sight of her withering underneath his hands as she chased her orgasm against his fingers made him wonder what she would look like as his mouth was on her. Both of his fingers curled inside of her, dragging along her walls slowly before applying continued pressure onto that one spongy spot inside of her, causing her back to arch off her desk as she called out his name.

“Fuck, Harry… fuck m’ so close,” she was an absolute mess underneath him, but Harry wasn’t done with her, not yet. The second he saw her legs start to shake he quickly removed his fingers from inside of her, causing her to let out a distressed cry, her eyes flying open and quickly widening as she saw him slipping the fingers that had been inside of her into his mouth, his tongue lapping up her slickness.

“Do ya mind if I properly taste ya?” His hands were already curling around the edges of her panties, just waiting for her to give him permission. She nodded her head quickly, a chorus of “yes’s” leaving her mouth, causing Harry to smirk as he dragged her panties down her legs and got down on his knees, leaving him eye level with her dripping core.

He slowly dragged a finger over her sensitive clit causing her to take in a sharp breath, but nothing prepared her for the feeling of his lips sucking the sensitive nub into his mouth. His hands were on either side of her thighs, pushing them apart as he traced his tongue across her entrance, quickly dipping inside of her cunt causing him to moan against her. Whimsy’s hands flew to the hair on top of his head, quickly grabbing onto the strands and yanking on them softly as he dragged his lips back over her clit, sucking on it until she was seeing stars. His fingers quickly found a home inside of her cunt once again, his mouth never once letting up on her swollen nub. She couldn’t do much but whimper Harry’s name and tug on his hair, but that seemed to be enough to spur him on. He had never seen a more beautiful sight, and he was sure in this moment he could spend forever between her thighs, watching her wither and struggle to catch her breath. The combination of him sucking on her clit and pounding his fingers into her wet cunt mercilessly was enough to send Whimsy over the edge, her mouth opening against a silent cry as her legs began to tremble as she released around his fingers, struggling to blink the white spots in front of her eyes away as she caught her breath.

“Harry,” she whined as he continued to work her through her orgasm, her hands trying to push him away from her oversensitive clit, causing him to smirk against her. With one final kiss to the sensitive nub, he pulled away, the sight of his chin now covered in her release absolutely sinful as he repeated his actions from earlier and placed his fingers inside of his mouth, licking them clean.

“Reckon I should call ya kitten more,” he commented as he wiped his chin off on the back of his hand, causing her to let out a breathless laugh. He was quick to gather her panties off the floor and slide them back up her legs, helping her sit up so he could slide them over her ass.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, stepping down from her desk on wobbly legs and Harry was quick to place his hands on her hips to steady her, sending her a smirk that had her melting once again.

“My pleasure, kitten.” What the hell had they just done?

[inklingleesquidly]

THE WISDOM OF LEE SQUIDLY

CHAPTER 4

Lee Squidly has been called into  action. Callie has gone missing and according to Marie he’s her only hope in finding her. There is a lot more going on in Octo Canyon than Lee truly knows but Is he up to the task when he is uncertain of even his own feelings?

A new journey of discovery awaits our hero as he comes to realize what the true meaning of the relationship between the Squid Sisters is, and what they mean to others..

Featuring a friend’s Squad

Word count: 2,306

CHAPTER 3 CAN BE FOUND HERE

       Going off the beaten path, Lee and Mooky were pushing their way through a dense overgrowth of vegetation. Like a flashlight, light shown through Mooky’s eyes to guide them through the darkened night. “If we proceed at this pace, Master Lee, we shall arrive in Slimeskin Garrison tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” Lee mumbled, pushing up a thin branch he accidentally ran into. “Hopefully the last person we’re supposed to meet has something for us and--.” He suddenly froze, feeling something awry that made him tense. “Say Mooky did you ever get the feeling you were being watched?”

Mooky explained, “My sensors do show there are many signs of life within this kettle but I am certain they are all the native fauna.” The little robot turned and raised his arm, hoping to give comfortable assurance to his master, “There is no need to be fearful; we are far enough away from any posts for anyone to wish to attack--.”

       The whole world seemed to turn upside-down as they were pounced upon. Both Lee and Mooky felt themselves immobilized by something coiling around their feet and helplessly had their heads bashed against the hard dirt before they were lifted into the air. Panic set in quick; neither could see their mysterious assailant shrouded in the night’s darkness. A shrill, threatening voice shouted at them, “Who are you and what are you doing sneaking around out here?!”

       That voice, Lee could swear he recognized it. In his confusion and dismay he managed to babble, “Wh-huh, M—Mrs. Mist?”

       “Huh,” the voice of their attacker suddenly softened, so did the vague outline of their posture Lee could make out in the dark. He had to squeeze his eyes shut from a flashlight shined in his face but he could hear them say, “Lee Squidly is that really you?”

       They spoke with a tone of chastising authority that was uncanny to a parent and their identity was only confirmed to him by Mooky, “Ohh good evening Ms. Shelby, it is unexpected to meet you here in Octo Canyon.”

Gently, carefully setting them down and shining the light on herself, there was no mistaking it, Lee identified her as Shelby Mist; a friend of his mom’s and mother to a close friend. Alarmed by his presence, she dusted off his shirt and fixed his collar, “I’m so sorry Honey, I hope I didn’t hurt you, I hope— hey, wait a minute!” Her tone then radically shifted, “Does your mother know you’re here?” She queried.

“Uhh,” Lee stuttered, looking down at Mooky who could only offer a similar blank stare. “E-yes,” Lee finally answered, actually telling her a half-truth. In his haste to leave after receiving Marie’s message he scribbled a note for his mom that he left stuck to the refrigerator.

With her hands on her hips, that answer didn’t satisfy Shelby at all. In the end she dropped the subject with another question, “Well, did you get separated from the rest of your squad?”

“It is only us together, Ms. Shelby,” Mooky informed.

She let out a sharp gasp of disbelief, “Are you serious?!” Lee confirmed with a nod which Shelby answered with another disapproving shake of her head. “This won’t do, this won’t do at all,” she chided. “Come with me,” she then beckoned, taking his hand and leading Lee through the brush with Mooky hurriedly following behind.

A short walk lead them to what looked like a sheltered campsite with five teenagers crowded around a roaring fire. “Everyone, look, you’ll never guess who I found sneaking around in the bushes,” Shelby summoned their attention. When they turned to gaze at Lee, he couldn’t believe his eyes; he recognized them. It was the Slayaz; a rival Squad he had numerous Turf Battles against with his own team back in Inkopolis. Lee would’ve never expected to see them here and most of all he wouldn’t expect to see someone in particular.

“Lee,” one member of the team shot up from his seat. “LEE!” He repeated, breathless as he dashed up to him, hugging the breath out of him. “LEE, I DON’T BELIEVE IT, IT’S YOU,” he screamed in his ear as he lifted the younger boy off his feet. He was Shelby’s son and one of Lee’s best friends, Vincent Mist. Lee could only gawk blankly as Vincent was nearly hysterical, “You like-- you haven’t called me or answered my calls or like—just—anything in months since you got hurt! I was real worried dude; don’t ever ignore me like that again!

Lee looked him in the eyes, the worry was there, it made him feel so ashamed that he really hadn’t said a single word to his best pal since he got injured. “I’m sorry.” That was all he could say.

“It’s okay,” Vincent hadn’t released his grip on his buddy the entire time, “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

A snide voice jokingly called out, “Aww, if you miss him so much why don’t you give ‘im a big ole kiss.” It was Totty, the Squad leader who always seemed to have it in for teasing Lee.

She was joined by the other two members of the Squad, Hunter and Cerberus making crude and mocking smooching noises before bursting into laughter.

Lee always took their teasing with undignified silence but Vincent snapped back with a laugh, “Hue hue hue, maybe I will, jealous?” Totty scoffed and flicked her hand, practically smacking away his retort, releasing a chorus of jovial laughs from the group.

With that Vincent guided Lee over to sit with him as everyone continued their conversation. He came to learn, unsurprisingly, that they were here by Marie’s request Hearing that made Lee’s heart leap in his throat.

Without a doubt they were a strong, unified team; the wins and losses he had against them were proof of that but knowing the danger of being squids in Octopus country during turbulent times, his own experiences made him fearful for their very lives. There was such a disconnect with the worry he felt and the joking and merriment that was present with the Slayaz. Except for one that is, Lee didn’t even notice them at first but amidst their ranks was another squid he would later learned was named Keith. They were so quiet, so secluded to themselves. Normally Lee would do everything he could to involve them in the gathering not now wasn’t the time.

Lee felt himself zoning out, consumed by his own thoughts while Mooky relayed the progress of their adventure to the Slayaz. He snapped back to reality when Shelby strolled around with a hot pot that had been sitting over the fire. “Okay kids, soup’s on,” she said with a relaxed smile, as if they really were on a casual camping trip. Paper plates were passed around as well as buns to eat the hot dogs she served along with a hefty helping of baked beans for everyone.

Looking down at his meager meal, Lee didn’t have much of an appetite. It only made him groan with annoyance, Dang it Marie, is this really all you gave everyone? He thought, only growing more aggravated with her than he already was.

He eventually heard Mooky concluding his recollection of their story. “And that is everything,” he said with a plate of food in his hands, having been given one by Shelby despite not needing to eat. “Miss Marie is counting on Master Lee’s love for Miss Callie to lead the investigation in the right direction.”

That affinity for Callie had always been used as fuel for them to tease him but now, the Slayaz all looked to be in agreement with Mooky. Vincent seemed to speak on behalf of everyone, “Well if that’s the qualifications for the job than Lee’s the perfect fit!”

Totty interjected, wondering, “Still, wouldn’t it be great if we were the ones to find her and bring her home first? We’d be Top Squad overnight.”

“That’s not important,” Vincent shot back, tightly balling his fist. “This isn’t about us getting to say ‘Oh look we saved Callie and brought the Squid Sisters back together’, no.”

“Huh,” Lee whispered under his breath.

“Like ‘em or hate ‘em the Squid Sisters were a big part of our lives when we started playing Turf Wars and them being apart and gone—it’s like, it’s like having friends or even family being away from you.”  Vincent hooked his arm around Lee’s neck before he continued, “I know you guys aren’t as big of fans of the Squid Sisters as Lee and I but like, remember when we first started out? One of the first dance routines we came up with was to Squid Sisters songs!” They all seemed to groan in embarrassment at that memory.

Vincent wasn’t deterred, he begged, “Aww come on guys it was fun, and I mean remember all those fan fests we and the rest of the squads came up with back at home? Weren’t those a blast?” That they could all agree on, even Lee found himself smiling at the memory of so many friends and rivals brought together for their own privately run tournaments. He concluded, “They just been such an inspiration that I could just talk forever about them.”

Totty groaned, “Can one of you play some music so he gets the hint to wrap it up?”

“Okay, okay,” Vincent conceded, “It just means a lot to me, and I’m sure to Lee to that you’d come all this way to help out the cause. You guys are the best.”

       As well as he knew his friend it was quite the surprise to Lee to hear him be so insightful. After dinner, Lee was invited to spend the night camping with them. As much as he wanted to proceed, both Mooky and Shelby heavily convinced him to take the offer and get a good night’s rest. That ended up being impossible to do with everything he was thinking and feeling.

       Waking at the crack of dawn, Lee collected Mooky and left the Slayaz’s camp as quiet as could be. His escape didn’t go unnoticed however. “What are you doing, Lee,” the voice of Shelby startled Lee.

       He jolted and screamed, “WAHH,” just loud enough to awaken Mooky who had still been in sleep mode.

        She was up bright and early; being the last in the group’s rotation to keep watch. Shelby apologized, “I’m sorry for scaring you, Sweetie, but are you sure you want to leave? I know you’re worried about your friend but you’d be much safer and be able to cover more ground if you stuck with us.”

       Friend? Wanting to maintain the secrecy of their relationship, Lee tried to explain, “Ohhh uh, w-we’re not friends, I’m just a really big fan is all, heh-eh, hasn’t Vinny showed you the fan pages I moderate?”

       Holding her hand up to stop his babbling, Shelby revealed what she knew. “I’m a mom, I know everything including you and Callie. It’s really sweet how much she means to you so don’t worry, I haven’t told Vinny about your secret.” He reasoned that his own mom must’ve mentioned it to her. Gossip of their kids spread easily among mothers but he knew he could trust her to keep her word.

“But I can’t go with you, Mrs. Mist, I kind of have some things to do to find Callie, and I need to do them on my own.”

       That didn’t fly right by Shelby. With her hands on her hips, she eyed him with frustration, “But why? We all have the same goal in mind, we need to help each other and—Lee, there’s something I need to ask you. Are you doing this to save your friend or to save your friendship?” Lee’s breath got caught in his throat, saying that so directly really caught him off guard, especially when she pressed the issue more. “If you were doing this to help your friend you’d welcome all the help you can get. But if you’re just looking to be the hero by saving her on your own then I’m afraid there’s something seriously wrong with your priorities.”

Her eyes bore a hole straight through him as she awaited his answer—but the trouble was Lee didn’t have an answer for her. It should’ve been an easy reply to make. Of course he was here to help his friend! Lee could only stammer and stutter though until Mooky spun around on his back to answer for him. “Yes, we are here expressly for Miss Callie, Miss Shelby. Lee has been instructed to meet with very important people, Agents, and their presence is unknown by the Agency. Meeting with the civilians under Marie’s employ could spell trouble for them so we are to meet them ourselves.”

Unable to recall if that truly was part of his itinerary in meeting the informants, a part of Lee wondered if Mooky cooked up a lie to help him save face in front of Shelby? Regardless, most of it was true so he confirmed to the prodding mother, “Y-yeah, that’s why, that’s exactly why!”

       That seemed to suffice for Shelby, at least after she sighed audibly. “Okay,” she said, “I’m worried just as much about you as I am about Vincent and his friends. If you’re gonna do this at least take this extra blanket so you don’t get cold, and take a couple of these energy bars to, and please stay out of trouble, Honey.”

       Accepting the supplies, Lee took his leave as the first rays of the morning sun began to shine over the horizon. I promise, Callie, he thought, I’ll find you soon, so everyone brought here to look for you like Vincent can go home and be safe.