Corruption (SalemxMaleReader)

Crash the Party

A/N: Howdy! Ready for another chapter?

Y/N, Salem's Herald, her little prince and messenger, the Ears and Voice of the Grimm, the extension of her will across Remnant, was currently sprawled across his hotel bed.

He unbuttoned his polo a few buttons to let the cold air of the AC unit touch his sweaty chest and sighed in contentment as he cooled down.

"Haaah, this feels so good," he spoke with a silly smile.

"Rawr," Io barked in agreement, her eyes closed as she napped on the bed with her head on Y/N's abdomen.

The temperature outside was getting hot these days. So many buildings and so many people walking around, all contributed to the annoying heat.

So yes, he was immensely grateful for the invention known as the air conditioning unit.

Stupid sun and its stupid mood swings.

"I'm half-tempted to ask mister Watts to build mini air conditioners into my clothes," he drawled with a pout. 

He was brought out of his fantastic nap when he felt his Scroll vibrate beside him. Checking it, he pouted as the time for his next task was at hand.

"Seems like my task is set for this early morning."

Io merely sat up from her rest, ready to go at a moment's notice.

"Alright, I'll go take a bath and a change of clothes before we go."

/-/

Salem sat comfortably in her office, sipping on luxurious red wine while reading the very amorous literature her son had unknowingly gifted to her. 

She had initially read these strange books out of boredom now that Y/N had his tasks and was required on the field. 

She no longer had her son to cuddle with or smother with affection at a moment's notice to which she frowned at the thought of. 

And boredom was such an irritating poison that she just had to find something, anything to do at all. She'd bided her time plotting Ozpin's destruction and doing the same routine every single day for centuries, of course, she'd get utterly bored.

That's when her son came in with this series named the Ninjas of Love. Odd name, she thought. Emotions in general were a hindrance to a profession centered around the assassination of persons. 

Was this about assassins falling in love with each other? A rather bland plotline, she thought.

Oh, she couldn't have been so wrong yet so right.

While indeed, the books showcased its fair variety of "lovey-dovey" situations - as youngsters call it these days - and hardships assassins experience in their field of work, it was the more mature aspect of it that caught her off guard.