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yoonpobs · 3 years

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difficult | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: fluff, mini angst, super cute, mutual pining

words: 3, 812

summary: you're difficult and yoongi just wants you

“I can’t believe it,” Jimin whistles. Taehyung mirrors his sentiment but with a look of disbelief.

“Me neither. But here we are.” Taehyung states matter-of-factly.

You were silent, not because you had nothing to say—but because you couldn’t believe it either. How did you allow yourself to fall into this trap? A trap you’ve spent your entire life training to avoid. And you would consider yourself someone that was dedicated to their craft and you truly were. But you were still susceptible to guilty pleasures and you just found your match.

“Why is no one stopping me? Why isn’t anyone telling me to get a grip of myself?” You cry.

Jimin looks at you sympathetically even if he knows that you hated being pitied. Taehyung at least avoids your gaze but the tell-tale signs of a frown appear on his face when you see the furrow of his brows.

“You know … you’re allowed to feel this way, right?” Jimin says carefully and you were more annoyed with the fact that he was walking on eggshells with you when you’ve long passed that stage of prudent navigation around each other. And you knew exactly why he sounded the way he did.

“I’m not. I’m supposed to be an impenetrable fortress that cannot be shaken by anything let alone anyone. I am an unyielding, resolute woman that refuses to be tied down by society’s narratives.” You say all at once.

Jimin and Taehyung blink at you. They expected this—but it still surprised them that you vocalised their thoughts.

Jimin clears his throat.

“Let me rephrase that,” He says sternly, “You’re allowed to feel, period.”

You shake your head because you’ve fallen too far—too hard. And you needed to get a grip of yourself because you didn’t work hard perfecting the flawless expression of bitchiness and temptation to be taken seriously amongst a Board of Directors filled with men. People like you couldn’t afford to feel.

Especially when the world never feels for you. For women.

“Do you hear yourself Jimin?” You exasperate as you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“____—” Taehyung attempts to reason with you, but as always, you never let him get a word in. He knows you don’t mean any malice because you’ve built your walls so high that you think everyone is out to get you—but he just cares about you. He wishes you’d let him.

“No. You don’t understand guys. People like me? We—I—can’t afford to slack off. Not now and not anytime soon. I hear you guys and I wish I could understand where you’re coming from but frankly, I won’t ever be able to. You have the liberty of picking your battles because this world is yours. I had to fight my battles on my own to claim this world as my own and I’m nowhere near deserving of that role yet. I can’t feel.”

Their eyes soften at you and you avoid their gazes. You didn’t want their pity, and you didn’t want to sit in a tight office with their stares so heavy on your own.

“You deserve to be happy,” Taehyung says sadly.

You don’t respond, but you hear the chairs in front of your desk move against the hardwood floor. Then, you hear the opening and closing of your doors and you’re finally alone. Like how you do best.

You don’t allow another thought as insignificant as the one that threatens to overtake you to pass through your mind as you quickly tend to your pending projects.

The name of a certain man lingers very vaguely, though.

It annoys yet terrifies you how much you needed to consciously play your cards just right when you step into another board meeting. You thrived when you spoke at the podium, and no man—even the most bigoted—could deny that you were a born leader. But that didn’t mean that they liked that fact. In fact, most of them despised the idea that a woman as young as you was even allowed in the same room as they were. You wished you could yell at them, cry and shout until they understood that you were deserving.

You couldn’t, for very obvious reasons. But until you could—you needed to be smart.

“Mr Lee, with all due respect—liquifying the compartment company will not bring us the projected profit that you’ve pitched in the previous meeting.”

You’re level-headed and cool when you attempt to reason with the older and very stubborn man. He was old, and stubborn, which was never good news for you.

Mr Lee, the Chairman’s younger brother, simply scoffs at you, and you try your best not to let your eye twitch.

“What? Do you have a bachelor’s degree in business?” He sneers.

You blink.

“I have a double Masters in Business Administration and Finance.”

Mr Lee stiffens, and you briefly see Seokjin, the fellow nephew of Mr Kim, holding back his snorts at your declaration.

“I am qualified to be making this statement, and if you don’t believe in just words—which you really shouldn’t—here are the documents and projections from my end.” You distribute the analysis you took upon yourself to complete over the weekend and worked overtime to finish it as you handed it around the table.

Mr Kim, the Chairman, who was a far better man than everyone else in the Board of Directors, offers you an impressed smile as he flips through your booklet while you stand straight with your shoulders rolled back. A stance you often took to show that you knew your shit.

“This is very … meticulous. Great work as always, ___.” Mr Kim compliments you.

You don’t let it show on your face but you’re pleased with the way Mr Lee grumbles under his breath like a petulant child.

“Very well. We’ll keep the compartment company as it is,” Mr Kim declares and everyone else in the room shuffles to collect their belongings as the meeting comes to an end, “Meeting adjourned.”

“You’re absolutely badass,” Jin whistles at you as you walk side-by-side, your folders snug against your chest.

You hide your smile but acknowledge it regardless.

“And you were … there. As usual.”

He snorts and you know he gets where you’re coming from. Jin was simply present at the meeting but he wasn’t actually present. His heart had no place in the business world but instead in a world filled with fine dining and diverse cuisines as he worked up a storm in the kitchen. But as every father—who is the Chairman of a country’s largest exporter—he had pushed that dream onto Jin from a young age.

But Jin was Jin, and you knew Mr Kim simply kept him here for the sake of it; fully aware of his son’s aspirations and determination of becoming a chef.

“You should just take my position. You’re so good at business talk—I didn’t understand half the shit you were saying the entire time.” He says.

You shrug.

“I mean, that’s the goal. But let’s just see for now,” You hum as you reach your office, and you still when you see the person waiting for you inside.

Jin takes a peek over your shoulder and spots the same person who has you looking so tense. He whistles at you as he stuffs his right hand in his pocket while offering you a consoling pat on your shoulder with his left before he stalks off.

“Good luck!” He calls out, and you internally groan at the oncoming interaction.

You brace yourself and put on a brave face as you step into your office, doors clicking, signalling your guest to turn around at the insinuation of your presence.

“Mr Min, what can I help you with?” You don’t look at him when you place your belongings on your table and you nearly miss his scoff with the way you attempt to busy yourself with any mindless activity that you can find on your desk.

“Mr Min? Not Yoongi anymore?”

You ignore his bitter tone and look at him with a reserved stare, raising an eyebrow as if to question his statement.

“Are we not co-workers?” You reply coolly and he scoffs much louder for you to hear.

“Co-workers … yeah,” He shrugs, leaning forward, “Do you usually kiss your co-workers?”

You are still at the sudden declaration and nearly drop the pen that was in your grip. He’s suddenly inches closer to you despite the relative distance of your desk between the both of you. You try to ignore the heat of his body, but it’s entirely too suffocating for you to pretend like he isn’t there.

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” You wave him off and you steady your voice because you weren’t ready for him to see you break. You allowed yourself too much space to be vulnerable and you needed to stop.

He sits back into the chair and folds his arms across his chest with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, this is not what we’re going to do.” He says, suddenly much firmer than he was a moment ago.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, clearly confused.

“None of this detached, emotionless attitude with me. I see through this facade and it’s not cute. You’re going to speak to me like an adult and address the very obvious feelings you have for me, and likewise. You’re not allowed to deflect like you always do because I expect you to be honest with me because you’re clearly not being honest to yourself.”

You blink up at him and your heart starts beating more rapidly within your chest as it betrays your stoic appearance.

Maybe that was why you fell for Yoongi in the first place. He didn’t tolerate you. Specifically, the shit that you pull on him. You were well aware you were a stubborn, hard-headed bitch that could be emotionally reserved 99% of the time when you interacted with others. And sometimes your bitchiness was uncalled for, but most people were too terrified to say anything about it to your face.

Yoongi?

He had no problems letting you know what he expected from you and how he thought of you from the beginning. It should’ve irked you. Based on your strict line of principles that you upheld—a man projecting his own thoughts of you that he had in his head, directly to you, should’ve been dehumanising, disrespectful even. But you never got that from Yoongi. He was brutally honest. And you appreciate honesty.

But sometimes it made you squirm.

“I … sorry, what? Are you insane? I don’t have feelings for you.” You narrow your eyes at him and hope you sound convincing enough.

But you knew Yoongi well enough to know that he saw through your blatant lie.

“I said: don’t deflect. You’re deflecting.” He scolds.

“You’re being unnecessarily distasteful right now,” You roll your eyes.

“Am I? Or am I just telling you the truth that you’ve been trying to deny for the past week that you’ve been cowardly avoiding me?” He’s calm when he makes the accusation. And it wasn’t even an accusation because it was the plain truth.

You burn, both in anger and in humiliation.

“What do you know about me Yoongi? Aren’t I just the company’s hot-headed bitch?” You snap, remembering the first words you heard from Yoongi.

“You are a hot-headed bitch, and I know you’re scared of admitting that you have feelings for me because you think feeling makes you weak.”

You ignore the fact that he admitted that you were a bitch, but Yoongi wasn’t the type to lie, nor was he the type to kiss ass. And you hated that he was still brutally honest, even when speaking about a topic so … intimate.

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting this information from but you need to leave.” You stand up to walk towards the door so you could open it for him but he grabs your wrist before you make it there.

He turns you around to look at him. Properly look at him, that is. You’ve been avoiding direct eye contact with him because as good of a front you’ve worked on to put in front of him, you were human. And as a human, you were bound to have a weakness.

“You don’t get to walk away from me—this conversation—because you hate confrontation,” He frowns at you and you turn away to avoid his heavy gaze.

“Yoongi, can we not do this?” You sigh.

He chuckles dryly, using his right hand to nudge your face to look at him. It should’ve been demeaning, but you felt nothing like you were disrespected. You hated to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot more than you’d admit to anyone.

“No. We’re doing this. You’re going to address your feelings for me and actually work for what you want—and that’s clearly this,” He gestures between the two of you and you glare up at him.

“I told you! I don’t have any feelings for you.” You snarl at him, teeth bared like an animal but he just laughs at you like you were pathetic. You hated how small you felt in his presence but yet you were still whole.

“You don’t kiss a person you don’t have feelings for—you don’t hold someone you don’t have feelings for like they’re your safe space. You don’t have feelings for me? That’s funny because you did all of those things and you’ve never once complained when I reciprocated.”

You fumble with your words as the tip of your ears burn a bright red, which Yoongi easily catches.

“You don’t turn into a tomato if I was lying to you. You’re not like that, right? You’re self-assured. Ms-I’m-An-Impenetrable-Fortress,” He mocks.

“S-Stop acting as if you know me, Yoongi. You don’t and you never will.” You struggle against his grip on your wrist but he simply tugs you closer until your faces are inches apart.

“I don’t?” He scoffs, “Then tell me, why do I know that you confide Jimin and Taehyung for advice but never take it anyway because you’re too damn stubborn?”

You were about to retort but he’s quicker with his response.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you walk with your head held high into meetings but exit with your tail tucked between your legs because you’re afraid of sounding too dumb, too incompetent?”

You freeze.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you pull away from people not because you’re repulsed by them but because you’re afraid of forming actual bonds in the fear of being abandoned?”

You internally curse when you fear your eyes burning, and the lump in your throat becoming too much to bear.

“Then tell me, ___, why do I know you feel the same way about me but you’re too scared of looking dependent to do anything about it?” He whispers the last part when he pulls you tight against his chest.

You don’t fight him anymore, and you relax into the firm expanse of his chest and it terrifies you that it feels so much like home. A warm space you find comfort in.

You don’t even realise the first tear escapes your eyes until you feel Yoongi’s dress shirt turn slightly damp under the skin of your cheek. You’re mortified when you realise you’re crying and you attempt to pull away but his hands find their way around your waist to hold you tight.

“Don’t,” He whispers, “Don’t pull away from me.”

“Yoongi … I-I can’t,” You stutter, voice shaky.

He wipes a thumb on your cheek to wipe away the continuous stream of tears that you don’t bother hiding from him anymore.

“I worked my ass off to be taken seriously here and—and … if I get a boyfriend they’re going to think that I’m reliant, I’m weak, dependent on a man.” You ramble, but he just listens to your nonsensical statement as he rubs soothing circles on your head.

“I want you to rely on me, to depend on me. Stop thinking that you need to fight your battles alone. I’m here—I’ll be here. I’ve always been here but you need to let me be there for you.” He says softly.

You peer up at him with swollen eyes and he thinks you look beautiful. You always were beautiful. When you were commanding a meeting; when you were focused when you were angry; when you were laughing, and when you were sad. He was in for all of it.

“But ... the Board of Directors—”

He shushes you with a light kiss to the corner of your lip and you feel your stale heart flutter.

“I’m not here to be your saviour. I’m here to be your equal. I want to help you as much as you’ll help me. And believe me when I say you’ve helped me. The Board of Directors? Relationship or no relationship, they’ll be the same bigots that unfortunately dictate the policies in this company. The only person that has the ability to change anything in this situation is you ___.”

You feel your resolve breaking but you should’ve known that you’ve never had any resolve when it came to Yoongi. You were always weak around him. And maybe you needed to start accepting the fact that you were allowed to feel weak, to feel dependent on someone.

“What if you leave me.” You whine.

He snorts before rubbing a thumb between your furrowed brows.

“Then I leave. But we don’t know what’s going to happen if we don’t try,” He says and you realise how close he’s gotten to you to the point you feel his breath on your lips.

“That’s not comforting to hear the slightest,” You complain.

“And nothing about a relationship is easy. But I’m willing to be with you. I’ve always been ready—it’s you that needs to make the decision, ___.”

You finally lock eyes with him and you see nothing but sincerity. Yoongi could be crass, and often mistaken as a dick. But he was just honourable. He wouldn’t lie to anyone or sugarcoat the difficult truth. In fact, he never made you feel inferior to him even when he was straightforward. He never treated you differently because you were terrifying—but he treated you how he would with anyone else. And that was comforting. While everyone else walked on eggshells with you, he was fearless with his declarations.

Even now.

“I like you. I have no qualms in admitting it. And I’ll say it over and over again until you believe me,”

You don’t reply but kiss him. And there are no explosive fireworks, and time still flows—but it feels familiar. It feels like a territory that you’ve known all along, a little rough around the edges with the time spent away, but a place you can allude to comfort.

He responds by licking into the seam of your mouth as you allow his tongue to lick behind your teeth, a small whine caught in the back of your throat as you card your fingers through his hair. The hands-on your waist presses you tighter, flush against his body.

He pulls away first, resting his forehead on your own.

“I need to hear you say it. None of this tip-toeing anymore.”

You offer him a small smile.

“I-I …”

He watches you stutter with a hooded gaze but nothing about his stare makes you feel pressured. It was more comforting than anything, and the way he still held onto you like you mattered—but weren’t fragile—allowed you some semblance of peace in retaining your identity. This arbitrary idea of what you thought you were and how people perceived you. It was difficult to unlearn an idea that felt very personal to you after years of mastering its art.

You’re still unsure of how to react but you’re so sure of how you feel.

“I like you. I-I want to try.” You wail.

He’s alarmed by the sudden change in tone from your end and at the way you tug at the collars of his shirt. Not aggressively, but a little desperate. Not in the way that’d make him scrunch his nose in distaste but in a way that told him that this was you being vulnerable. Being open.

He wipes at your cheeks with dried tears and looks at you so honestly that it scares you. But in a way, you were fearless because you were terrified of everything. Mostly of disappointing others who held you to such a high standard, but it was a valid fear regardless.

“I’m not some fragile woman that you need to fix and I want you to understand that,” You pull yourself together and tell him sternly. He listens because Yoongi has never been presumptuous.

“I’m my own person and I won’t change the way I act to be with you—and if you’re looking for a cute … dainty, soft girlfriend then…” You whisper, “That’s not me. I’m tough. I’m a bitch and I’m stubborn. Our arguments are going to suck because I have a response for literally everything so—!”

He shushes your rambling with a finger to your lips and a raised eyebrow. You pout at him under his finger and he finds you adorable. He decides to not say anything to preserve his head—but soon. He’ll tell you soon.

“Are you done?”

You huff under his finger but he looks at you fondly.

“I’m not one for normality. I don’t care about what you think I’m into because I know that I’m into you. I’m in this, ___. Stop thinking that I deserve some idealistic image of a woman that you have in your head. I want you, and I thought me coming here to speak to you about your feelings was a clear testament to that.”

You try to hide your blush but you fail.

“And stop being so conscious of how you act around me. Be tough. Be independent. But don’t be afraid to be cute and vulnerable too, okay? I like you in all ways that you decide to present yourself in. Just … trust me. Trust this.”

“Okay.” You nod.

He grins at you.

“Does that mean I can hold your hand on the way to work?” He teases.

You avoid his eyes and look to the side, but the slight curve of your lip gives your answer to that question away.

“I guess …” You mutter.

He hugs you closer and squeezes you until your feet leave the ground. He tackles you with kisses all over your face and you can’t help but giggle. You feel happy. You feel secure.

“Cutie.”

You deliver a smack to his chest but he just laughs.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

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Seasons Change (d.s.) - ONE

↳ A/N This one already holds a special place in my heart and it has barely even begun! Might be a bit slower on updates because I want to make sure it’s perfect for us all. Thank you to @stuffofseaveyy for your unwavering help with plotting this storyline out, @randomlimelightxxx for your excitement and help, and of course, @jonahlovescoffee for being my hype girl and the best mayor’s wife anyone could ask for ;)

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2520

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

If you weren’t looking, you would miss it. An hour-and-a-half drive east of Hartford, Connecticut rested a small town that barely occupied more than an intersection of space in time. On your way east towards state lines, a rectangular green sign half covered by an oak tree would welcome you to Lincoln – Population: 200. You’d leave the town before you even realized you were in it if you weren’t paying attention but maybe that’s how the locals liked it.

People moved to Lincoln to get away from the bustle of the city…it was full of those people who had ‘let’s ditch this town’ mindsets and set down roots in a section of the world where they wouldn’t be bothered. It was the type of town that lived in the lyrics of a country song: picture perfect homegrown peace where everyone knew everyone and everyone had a place. It was easy to know everyone in a town like Lincoln. Driving in from the city you would pass a white paneled church, a few small single storey houses with lengthy driveways, the red trimmed general store, a brick sided restaurant, a run down and rusted mechanic’s shop, and catch a glimpse of the small community center just past the park before being enveloped by the nothingness that middle-of-nowhere Connecticut was known for.

Not much happened in Lincoln – at least nothing that was worth noting. Sometimes a car would break down and a city dweller in a designer suit would find his way to the general store to ask for assistance or, more often, a coyote would be rumoured to be roaming at night but that was the extent of the excitement. The most exciting thing to do outside of day to day work was play hockey and it seemed to be the town’s pride and joy of a pastime. There was no such thing as ‘hockey season’ as hockey season was year round in the small town of Lincoln, Connecticut. The community center housed an ice rink that could be melted down to a basketball court but everyone stayed for the hockey. The Lincoln Lighting Junior and Senior leagues were usually the talk of the town. The school-aged boys (ages 7-13) played for the juniors and the later teens and most of the fathers played for the senior league. The captain of the senior league was the coach of the juniors and he owned one of the few farms a few paces north of the main intersection.

A father of one and the best hockey player Lincoln had ever seen, Daniel Seavey was more than one could expect from a small town man.

He wasn’t your everyday potato farmer with uneven tan lines or a body that housed more beer than muscle and, in fact, he was the talk and the eye candy of the town. At only twenty-nine, Daniel was the best of the best in Lincoln: best hockey player, best coach, best farmer, best guitarist, best father; and he had the sandy brown hair and sky blue eyes of a heartbreaker to top it all. At six feet tall, Daniel was slim and handsome, and yet had the muscles capable of running a farm and shooting slapshots like you wouldn’t believe. Daniel was quiet and polite and he innocently humoured the wives of the town as they flirted with him in front of their unimpressed husbands.

But no one could be mad at Daniel. Not when he was the first and only widow Lincoln had ever seen.

Marigold Seavey was twenty-six when she died in her bed at their farmhouse in the early hours of the morning. Her passing was the first major event to ever shake the town of Lincoln. Everyone knew everyone in this town and, that being said, everyone knew what a sunshiny soul Marigold was. Daniel, especially, seemed to have his light burnt out once she was buried behind the church at the corner of town. Some of the folks in town will tell you that the saddest sight they had ever seen was Daniel standing at the foot of his wife’s grave after the funeral with his six-year-old son holding his hand and the two of them crying silent tears into the fresh fall soil.

Despite Daniel’s quiet persona, he was strong and he knew he had to be for the sake of his young son. He couldn’t wallow in his grief for long since he had a son to raise and a farm to tend to and the generosity of the townsfolk certainly helped him to stay on his feet after his wife passed.

It had been a year-and-a-half since Marigold died. Daniel had just turned twenty-nine as March moulded into April and the winter chill was starting to fade into spring and the second birthday without her wasn’t any easier. The birthday cake baked by his neighbour wasn’t as delicious as Marigold’s classic lemon cake she would make him every year but he politely thanked the woman and dared not complain. Daniel would never complain over the niceties of the townsfolk.

That’s what came with living in such a small town; everyone had everyone’s back.

It was the first Sunday of April and the first truly nice spring day of the year. With a crisp breeze in the air, it was only just warm enough to discard the winter jackets and most of the town was gathered in the large backyard of the mayor’s house for the usual after-church brunch. On the colder Sundays, brunch was held in the main restaurant but everyone preferred to gather in the fresh air and over the crisp green grass of the mayor’s house as soon as the weather permitted.

The mayor’s house was the largest and had the most land outside of the farms that were just north of the main intersection in town. Jonah – known by the locals as such since he didn’t like the formality that came with the title of ‘Mayor Frantzich’ – and his wife Jocelyn kept a pretty house on the edge of the little town. They could be what you call the ideal small town family with two kids, a dog, and white picket fence – enough backyard space for it to be the perfect spot for weekly brunch.

The town children had space to play and stretch their legs after sitting for an hour in church and the yard was filled with the shouts from their games. The adults lingered around the yard in various little circles, nursing freshly squeezed orange juice in spring-themed clear plastic cups and talking amongst themselves.

Daniel did a lot of listening during Sunday brunches, standing amidst one of the groups of parents as they talked about school, clubs, and work. Marigold was always the chatty one of the two of them…without her, Daniel felt out of place.

“What about you, Daniel? Think the frost will be gone to break ground this week?”

Jack spoke first, a shorter man with unruly brown hair and enough tattoos to surprise anyone with the fact that he raised an apple orchard. He owned the farm beside Daniel’s and was one of his closest friends in the town.

Daniel thought for a moment and scuffed the toe of his dress shoe against the grass. The cold ground was still pretty solid and the chill in the air still had them all wearing blazers over their Sunday button-ups.

“Only if this cold front lets up.” Daniel answered. “I’m hoping to plough by next week at the latest.”

“Everything’s been going well with the farm and your boy?” Jonah asked, his hand tucked around his wife’s waist and he raised his opposite hand to his mouth to sip his juice.

Daniel shifted on his feet and gave a shrug, his eyes drifting past the group of parents to easily pick out his shaggy haired brunette son across the yard with the rest of the kids. At almost eight-years-old, Lennox was the light of Daniel’s life; his little hockey star, helping hand, and the one whom his late wife’s smile and spirit lived on in. It had been a hard year-and-a-half for the two Seavey boys but Daniel was relived that he could hear his son laugh again, his audible glee reaching to the far edges of the mayor’s property and to his father’s ears.

“It’s been…fine.” Daniel sighed, his eyes lingering on his son as he answered Jonah’s question, “Lennox has been doing well…his grades are better this year which I’m relieved about. I just…I already sold the sheep and half the chickens and the second cow last spring to try and tame some of the workload but it’s still a lot.”

“Running a farm on your own isn’t easy.” Jack said, “I know how much work it takes for two owners let alone one.”

“We’re here to help with whatever you need.” Corbyn assured him. “I can give you deals on whatever you need from the shop as often as I can.”

Corbyn owned the general store in the center of town and was the bachelor of Lincoln. It wasn’t like there were any women to date in such a small place full of cookie cutter rural families but Corbyn was very happy as he was: running the store and being the eyes and ears of the town.

Daniel shut down his generous offer politely as he looked back to his friends, “No, no. I don’t want that…thank you though. I’m just worried the garden will suffer. With so much to do with ploughing and planting and coaching…I don’t know how much time I’ll have for the flowers.” Daniel let his gaze drift back to his son playing across the grass, “Lennox is too young to tend to them himself but he loves the gardens so much so I don’t want yet another thing to disappoint him.”

“Have you thought of hiring someone?” Jonah asked.

“Like a gardener?” Daniel hummed, “I dunno.”

Corbyn sipped his drink, “Is it in the budget?”

“I think so.” Daniel shrugged, swirling his orange juice in his hand. “Never thought about it. Mari always took care of the flowers so…”

“I have a family friend who’s pretty good with gardens…I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help out.” Jocelyn offered.

Daniel chuckled under his breath, “That’s…a nice offer but I’m not looking to put anyone out of their way. They’re just flowers after all.”

But everyone knew that they weren’t just flowers to Daniel. They were Marigold’s flowers.

Jack tisked at Daniel’s hesitation, “Well if it’s in your budget to hire a gardener and you know the gardens are important to Lennox and yourself, then why not give it a try? You don’t have anything to lose.”

Jonah only added onto the argument, “She’s been wanting to come visit Lincoln for a while now. Why don’t we invite her to town and she can stay with us and you can give her a look over…if you think you want to hire her then you can.”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of his juice as his eyes found his son again. It was habit. Lennox was already running for him at top speed across the grass and Daniel set his cup down on the table just in time to welcome his seven-year-old’s energetic jump at him. He scooped him up with one arm and a tired grunt as he hiked him up onto his waist and Lennox held onto him around his neck, giggling as the other kids ran over after him.

“Daddy’s safe. You can’t get me.” Lennox told them matter-of-factly.

Daniel smiled proudly and linked his hands under his son’s bum to hold him up securely. At almost eight, Lennox was a bit heavy to hold but after nine years of farm work and working out for hockey, it wasn’t much of an issue for Daniel to hold him. He’d never complain regardless.

The other kids found their parents, gladly taking sips of juice or pieces of cut up fruit after a tiring chase around the yard. Jonah and Jocelyn’s seven-year-old twins found their way between them and helped themselves to the few snacks on the table. They were the closest to Lennox’s age – although a few months younger – and the boy of the set of fraternal twins was on the junior hockey team with him.

With the parents busy for a moment with their children – Jack was helping to fasten his daughter’s curly hair back in her headband – Daniel pondered the previous offer. His son rested his head against his with his small arms slung around his neck and Daniel could feel each of his gentle breaths rising and falling his chest. Everything Daniel did was for Lennox. He bit his lip.

“No rush.” Jocelyn said to him, reassuring their offer as if she could see his hesitation, “Just let us know.”

“Thank you.” Daniel said honestly.

“The Herron’s are coming over.” Corbyn whispered to the group and right away they shifted awkwardly as the family approached. Daniel let out an anticipatory sigh.

If you ever thought of jealousy, you would think of Zach Herron; father of two boys who weren’t very good at hockey and husband to a wife whose eyes liked to linger on Daniel’s biceps a little too much. Zach envied a lot of Daniel…maybe even envied him that his wife was dead. He would never admit that out loud though.

“Seavey.” Zach greeted as his family approached the group with his petite platinum blonde wife on his arm. He glanced around to the others, “And friends.”

There was a dull chorus of replies.

Zach continued, “I’m still willing to buy your horses off you. You know I have a generous price to offer.”

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Yes, I know. But the horses are not for sale and they never will be.”

“Daniel would sell his house before he sells those horses.” Jack said. The group laughed lightly at the truth behind that.

Lennox wiggled from Daniel’s arms and he set him down to join up with the two Herron boys who had just come over. The children gathered together at the other side of the table and chatted excitedly. Daniel picked up his orange juice.

“Daniel,” Zach’s wife set a hand on his bicep, her face filled with nothing but dramatic concern, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing fine, Katie, thank you.” Daniel replied politely.

She sighed, “It would just be a terrible shame to see your beautiful gardens go to waste; I overheard you talking about it from over there. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

Zach’s annoyed scoff had Jack smirking into his orange juice. Corbyn and Jonah exchanged amused glances between themselves. Daniel offered Zach’s wife a small polite smile.

“That’s very nice of you to offer, but Jonah and Jocelyn already offered a family friend who’s in the business.” Daniel looked over at the couple again, with slight thankfulness in his eyes, “And I think I will gladly take them up on that recommendation.”

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

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dudeandduchess · 4 years

Text

Sanemi x F!S/O: Slow Burn (Modern AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: Sanemi wants to get married immediately for personal reasons, and it just so happened that a feisty woman at a restaurant caught his eye. Little did he know that she was going to be his future boss— and even knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to pursue her. Cue (Y/n), whose siblings are all meddlesome and bratty; enough to tell their father that she had a boyfriend, just for laughs. Not wanting to disappoint him with the thought of her living the rest of her life by herself, she sets out to find the perfect fake boyfriend. Note: This was written waaaay back in 2017, but it never saw the light of day. But I rewrote it for Sanemi, and here it is now. This is only the first part, since i initially planned it to be a three-part fic. But, enjoy, bbys. Hopefully I get to writing part 2 soon. It really depends on your feedback. Haha. Words: 6,252

Warnings: This is more OC-insert than reader-insert. Weird kitchen terms will fly. Which is why I want to scrap the idea altogether, but not without sharing it first.

***

Being away from home was always hard; not only did the person that was away miss the people closest to them, but also felt like they were wedging a gap between themselves and all of their loved ones as time went by. The longer someone was away from home, the bigger the gap grew, and the clearer it was to them that life moved on without them in the picture.

It hurt— of course it did— because it felt like everyone that that person left behind had forgotten about them, like they had become insignificant. But life did go on, even for those who had been the ones to leave— still, that didn’t erase their longing for days long past when their world seemed a much smaller, and marginally simpler place.

Almost nine years had passed since (L/n) (Y/n) moved away from her home to pursue her dreams. She wasn’t going to sugar-coat her story and tell people that she struggled financially while studying at Les Roche International in Switzerland for her Bachelor’s Degree in Hospitality Management, nor was she going to lie and say that she got into the New York campus of the Culinary Institute of America after so many setbacks.

She had been, however, downplaying her lifestyle after getting her associate degree for culinary arts at CIA. It was like she was leading a double life that the friends she made, while flitting from kitchen to kitchen, didn’t know about.

At 25, she had moved to Tokyo by herself to work at the city with the most Michelin Stars in the world; and now that she was at the cusp of turning 27, she was still in the same city, and the same restaurant, with the same one Michelin Star award— but she was a chef de partie now, which just meant more work for her.

Her one-year experience spent working in America after culinary school was a walk in the park compared to working for her current restaurant— well, three restaurants, if one were to be technical about things. Back at her old kitchen in the west, there was a full staff— and a very low employee turnover rate; in fact, it was rare to have people quit back there.

But her current place was— most possibly— worse than what everyone imagined when they heard the term ‘hell on Earth’. It was so bad that it was a regular sight to see people on the line quit on the spot, once they were so deep in the shits during service. She could have always left along with the others before her, but she found a perverse sense of joy from surviving in such a toxic workplace.

Not to mention the fact that she got to rub elbows with some of the best chefs from all over the world, when they came in as guests for one of the three restaurants.

The breakdown of the restaurants was the fine dining restaurant (where the Michelin Star was awarded), a gastropub, and a sub-kitchen for the events that they catered— as well as for those guest chefs that came in once a month for an entire week. The restaurant was huge— spanning 14,500 square feet, as well as a having a basement level where all the nitty gritty parts of the kitchen were.

When she first started there, she felt so exposed in the expansive open kitchen, that allowed the guests in the gastropub to see the hot line in the kitchen; while the pastry and garde manger stations were tucked away behind the wall, that separated the kitchen from the fine dining restaurant.

She couldn’t find a perfect way to describe the layout because it was just that big but, basically, the fine dining restaurant was tucked away from all the commotion— and people had to pass through a tunnel of sorts to get there.

While the gastropub housed both an open bar and the open kitchen, the event spaces as well as the sub-kitchen were hidden away at a loft-type space. It was so confusing to get around at first, but she eventually got used to it.

And now here she was, enjoying the last five minutes of peace of her supposed lunch break standing at the sauté station— her new station— and staring at the 22-quart Cambro filled with freshly-made Mornay, that she had almost shouted at one of the sous chefs about.

She was just lucky that she came in three (unpaid) hours early for work, because she wanted to get ahead on her prep; so she had enough time to squeeze in making the mornay with the other hundred things she had to do.

With such a big kitchen and a lack of people, everyone ended up stealing each other’s prep— whether it was for a VIP, or a party, or basically whatever that needed to be made. As long as it was in the walk-in fridge, it was fair game.

She was just happy to finally have been taken out of garde manger because— even if the station was meant for two people since it was prep-heavy (four if you count the two other people needed to take care of the parties)— she had been stuck working it by herself for the past five months.

“(Y/n), did you go on break yet?” The executive sous chef yelled from the pass— which was basically the area where their executive chef stood and expedited food during service; and just behind the pass was the stairs leading down to the basement floor. They also had an elevator, which was extremely helpful… when it wasn’t out of service.

“I am on break, chef,” the (h/c) haired girl answered with a laugh— when she just wanted to punch the guy square in the face, since he was the one who had used up the 14 quarts of Mornay that she had in the upstairs walk-in fridge yesterday.

“You know you shouldn’t be working, right?” The man asked her with a sardonic tilt of his head, that made (Y/n) want to scream. Just because he was higher up in the ranks than her made him think that he was the shit when, in fact, he was just shit— shit at his job, and shit as a person.

I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. She repeated her age-old mantra in her head, and then answered, “I know, chef. I’m-” the apology was about to slip from her lips when she caught it. “It won’t happen again, chef.”

“Make sure it doesn’t.” One of the banes of her existence called out before going down the stairs.

“Oui, chef!” (Y/n) cried, gritting her teeth afterwards, so she could hold back the snarky comeback that was threatening to spill from her lips. Really, she loved her job, but it was pricks like that who stressed her out.

And so, she took a deep breath and exhaled it in one strong gust— refocusing her mind so that she would be ready for the five parties up in the lofts, as well as the 250 covers that they had in the fine dining restaurant.

***

“Fire trio!” The executive chef, a 37-year old man from Florida (that used to be fit when he first arrived at the restaurant a year ago), called out from the pass— marking the ticket in his hand and tucking it into the slider bar mounted to the steel shelf that was mounted to the ceiling.

Everyone called out a loud chorus of ‘Oui’ in response.

Trios were there appetizer, and those got sent to the table before anything else, so it was synonymous with ‘another table just sat down’.

(Y/n) kept on making the orders that she had on her board, often moving from her stove to the Josper oven to put sauté pans with food inside. She was running out of burners on the stove, and it was starting to piss her off.

From behind her, the ticket machine whirred to life and started printing out an extremely long ticket. She internally groaned, before picking up one of the sauté pans on her stove and giving the mushrooms in it a little toss.

And all of that was happening while she had another ticket in her hand— memorizing all of her items on it.

“Order in! Four soup, two kale salads on the fly!” Whoever was serving the table on this ticket must have hated her, because she was already in the shits without any orders of their version of vichyssoise. But they just had to recommend the fucking thing now.

“Oui, chef! Four soup on the fly! Give me three minutes, chef!” (Y/n) yelled in a gruff voice— letting her frustration out in a non-hostile manner as she practically threw the pan of mushrooms in her hand, into the Josper behind her to cook them further.

Her brain was buzzing with so many things that she had to remember— the mushrooms in the Josper, the pan of broccolini she put in before the mushrooms, the truffle gnocchi that she still had to make in the next five minutes, and all of the other dishes from her station that needed to be up for the next table.

Sometimes even she amazed herself when she managed to finish a busy night, without getting yelled at even once.

“171 up at 15,” the executive chef yelled once more, and (Y/n) clicked her tongue as she hurriedly heated up the soup, while simultaneously plating her orders on that ticket— since it was already 7:14, so she had only a minute to get that done.

“Where’s my soup!? How long here, chef?”

“One minute, chef!” Her head was pounding with so much stress, but she pushed through it by taking all the food she had for table 171, and parked them beneath the heat lamps at the pass— calling out ‘hot, behind’ frantically at almost the top of her lungs.

“Fuck my life.” (Y/n) grumbled under her breath, as she plated up the dry components for the soup. She then grabbed her quenelle spoon from its secluded bain to make rochers of whipped crème fraîche. And once those were done, she poured the soup into four tiny, ceramic pitchers, before putting everything up at the pass. “Soup at the window, chef!”

No answer came, which was normal, so the (h/c) haired girl kept on cooking whatever was printed out on the new tickets that came in. It wasn’t until she picked up one of the pans on her stove that she froze.

She wanted to scream and let go of the pan because she had forgotten that she had just taken it out from the Josper, yet she couldn’t let it go, because it was filled with the truffle gnocchi. So, she slammed it down on the steel countertop beside her before she waved her right hand around.

There was a nice, clear burn mark where the piping hot steel handle had touched her skin, and she clicked her tongue as she resumed working; trying to ignore the pain as she put up ticket after ticket.

***

Shinazugawa Sanemi had been watching her all night from his table, that was a mere few feet away from where she was working.

The moment that he sat down and turned to watch the show inside the kitchen, his gaze instantly gravitated towards her. She didn’t stick out because she was a woman, no, he was used to seeing women not being forced into gender roles now— but she stuck out because of the way that she moved in there. She held herself with so much poise and grace, that it looked like she was gliding across the floor at times, all while yelling in a brusque tone.

He took a sip of his beer and licked his lips— eyes never leaving her. It was so obvious that she was getting overwhelmed with the influx of orders bombarding her every second, but he was impressed with the way she handled all of that pressure with a mere furrow of her brows here and there; until she burned her hand.

Sanemi expected her to stop the show to ask for help, and he chuckled in mild disbelief when she merely shook her right hand, before picking up where she had left off. It was as if nothing had happened.

That woman was really something, and his curiosity was piqued.

Sanemi had to admit that he had been lacking female company as of late, because of four things; namely:

He had gotten tired of sleeping with his flings, because they always expected more than one night.

No woman had a personality that kept him interested for longer than a week, as every single one of them had a heart like a marshmallow— too soft and sweet.

No one could put up with his abrasive personality, and most importantly…

He wanted to get married. The sooner, the better.

Part of his desire to get married was because his younger brother, Genya, was already engaged and getting married next year— so he wanted to get another thing over his brother. He had been taught better than to think of a life commitment as a means for a competition, but he simply didn’t care: he wanted to have what his brother always said was unparalleled happiness.

But the more pressing issue was that… he was starting to feel lonely. He didn’t make a habit of getting jealous, but he found himself going green with envy whenever his married staff— both from his previous company and the new one— mentioned even the simplest night with their respective wives. He wanted that for himself as well.

Hell, he was prepared to pay any amount to any woman that could keep up with him, just so she would marry him. But maybe he was doomed to stay single forever— he didn’t know.

So, there he was— out drinking beer by his lonesome self on a Thursday night, because he didn’t want to be alone in his apartment.

He had thought that it was too small for his taste at first but, as time went by, he realized that it felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. After the party was done and all the bottles of alcohol were picked up, he was always left with a cold feeling of emptiness weighing him down.

“Would you like another pint, sir?” One of the waiters asked Sanemi as they were passing by. He didn’t even realize that he’d finished the whole glass.

The silver-haired man shook his head even though he wanted nothing more than to get plastered, so he could just amble home and instantly fall asleep on his bed. “No, thanks. But… could you get me a menu?”

It didn’t take long for the waiter to get back to him with a menu booklet in hand. He briefly thanked the man and browsed through the pages; lifting his eyes up to the (h/c) haired woman every once in a while. Based on what he had observed, the dishes that she was making wasn’t on this menu, so he flagged down another waiter.

“Are you ready to order, sir?”

“I was wondering if I could order some soup to start?” Sanemi asked in a no-nonsense manner, that he hoped would let him order something that clearly wasn’t on the menu for that part of the restaurant.

The waiter cast a glance over at the kitchen, and seemed to hesitate before nodding. “Of course, sir. Our soup is our chef’s version of a vichyssoise-” The young man drowned his voice out then, only half listening as is gaze flitted back to the woman. “Do you have any allergies or specifications?”

“No, no allergies.”

“Would you like anything else to go with your soup? A steak, perhaps? Or our truffle gnocchi; it’s one of our best sellers.”

He vaguely remembered her using truffles, so he found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t even matter to him that he had no clue what gnocchi was. “Sure. And I’d like to send a glass of red wine to one of the chefs— the finest you have.”

Again, he didn’t know a lick about wines or any of the fancy food that they served. And since he was more of a beer and anything-with-rice kind of guy, who was trying to get her attention, he had to play it up. He did have the money for it, so why not?

“Very well, sir. To which of the chefs would you like me to give your present to?” The waiter asked graciously, and Sanemi pointed over to where the woman was still working.

“To her.”

“Oh, I… uh…” the guy stuttered uncomfortably, hesitating a bit as Sanemi raised his eyebrows at him. “Yes, sir. I’ll give it to (Y/n); may I tell her who it’s from?”

“No. Just tell her that it’s from a new admirer— and that she should get that hand checked.”

***

“Chef, I have tomorrow and the next two days off, okay?” (Y/n) chirped as she popped her head into the chefs’ office, only to see the higher ups filing last minute orders and double-checking inventories for the night. It was always like that every night after service; everyone on the line would clean up in the kitchen— consolidating their mise and storing them in the upstairs walk-in chiller— before scrubbing everything down and doing their own little tasks for their stations.

“Why?” The executive chef asked, turning his chair so that he was facing her. “When did you ask me to give you that off?”

“Two weeks ago, chef. Remember?” She rolled her eyes with a sigh, which she never would have gotten away with during service. But after she was off the clock was a very different story. “I even wrote it down on a blue sticky note— right there!”

The man laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Have fun doing whatever it is that you’re going to do.”

“I wish I could, but I know that it’s going to be boring as fuck.”

“You can always work.” He offered with a grin.

(Y/n) laughed and shook her head. “Nice try, chef. But no. My attendance is a must at this family thing.”

“You’re going home to Osaka?” The sous-chef asked, turning his chair as well, so that he could look at the (h/c) haired girl standing in the doorway.

“No. If only Chef Jason would let me have a week off, right, chef?” She turned to the executive chef— Jason— with an innocent grin. “But alas, he’s going to miss me too much.”

“Your station’s going to crash and burn without you,” Jason griped with a huff.

“You’ll manage, chef. It’s only three days. But please don’t burn through all of my prep. I already stocked up on the things I could stock up on, and the rest of the gnocchi is in the freezer. I also finished doing my prep list. So, I’ll be going now! Bye, chefs!” With a wave, (Y/n) hightailed it out of there before they could tell her to get a jacket on and help them with party prep for tomorrow.

Like hell she was going to let that happen again. Fool her once, shame on her; but fool her twice… then she was dumb as fuck.

Once she made it out of the restaurant, she slowly made her way up the street— thinking about whether she should call an Uber to drive her to her condominium building. It was only three blocks away, but her feet were already killing her.

In the end, she took out her phone and sat down at the nearest bus stop to wait for her ride.

She looked down at her hands under the dim light above her, sighing heavily as she took note of how her cuts and burns stood out starkly against her skin. What once used to be unmarred and flawless— the envy of her friends back in high school— were so different now. Ugly as fuck for everyone else, but for her… “It gives me more character.”

A quiet laugh escaped her lips at that, and she heaved another sigh when she was reminded of what she had to face tomorrow at Nanafumi’s 50th anniversary party. Had it been any of the other companies in the long string of companies under her family’s ownership, she wouldn’t have even bothered to show her face, but since it was her family’s flagship company in Japan, attendance was a must.

Nanafumi was the crowning glory of her father’s empire— and it was the closest to his heart, because it had always been his late wife’s dream to become a big player in the Japanese market. Fifty years later, and the company that she had helped build was still one of the biggest players in the business world.

Along with the news of how the upcoming anniversary was going to be extremely fancy, there were so many talks going around that (Y/n) was the one who was going to be taking over the company. Since it was a food manufacturing company, many people thought that it made sense for her to take over.

But she didn’t want to take over the company; not because she was being rebellious, but because she wasn’t born with her father’s business acumen or her mother’s sharp business mind. Her sharp tongue, yes, but her mind… not so much.

Hell, there were six other siblings of hers to choose from, and all of them were just as qualified as she was to run Nanafumi. She could run it, but she would be running it into the ground.

(Y/n) was shaken from her reverie when a car pulled up in front of her. She checked the plates, and once she confirmed that it was her Uber, she hopped in for the quick trip to her building.

Suffice to say, her living quarters were… more than adequate for one person to live in. It used to be where she and her family lived when they spent month-long vacations in Tokyo, and her dad had given it to her as a present… along with the building itself.

She didn’t want to accept it at first, but she was a reasonable person. Not only was the unit already fully-paid for (which meant no rent to think of), but she also used the profits from the building itself (from the commercial spaces on the first three floors, to the monthly rent that some residential tenants paid) to pay for her own expenses.

She was basically set for life, but she didn’t want to just sit back and be a bum for the rest of her existence. Her mother had raised her better than that.

Even though both of her parents came from old money, they were pretty decent people. They didn’t look down on others, and made her and her siblings know the value of working hard for something you were passionate about. She liked to believe that all seven of them turned out to be well-rounded individuals.

And they were. If only her four older brothers and two younger sisters weren’t batshit crazy.

If she were to be honest, her family was like a pack of wild animals when all of them managed to get together. Everyone was so rowdy (sometimes even herself), but all of that was due to their closeness with each other; not because they fought or anything like that.

Yes, they did fight, but that was only when a good number of them were drunk as fuck.

She was just about ready to collapse when she managed to enter her place, swinging the door shut behind her, as she kicked her kitchen clogs off in the foyer. With a sigh, she walked towards her phone and pressed the button to hear all of her messages.

In this day and age, only her family would still use landline phones, and leave messages on answering machines.

“(Y/n), don’t forget the party tomorrow. It’s at seven.” Her father’s deep voice rang in the cavernous living area, making her smile as he spoke in their native Kansai dialect. “And bring your boyfriend with you— Miko told me that you got one over there? Is he husband material? (Y/n), you’re already 27, it’s time you got married and had kids.”

A loud groan escaped (Y/n)’s lips, as she pressed stop on the machine. She was going to kill Miko— her youngest sister— tomorrow. But tonight, it was time to eat something for her first meal of the day, get showered to get rid of the horrendous kitchen smell, and then get some much-needed sleep.

There was a stigma about people who worked in a kitchen: that they always had time to eat because they had access to so much food, but that was a laughable rumor.

They didn’t even have time to breathe, because they were always so busy doing their prep for the day. The most that she could eat on busy days was a French fry, or maybe a piece of raw tuna, but that was it.

And there was that time, about two weeks ago, that she got a glass of wine in the middle of service. The waiter didn’t say who it was from exactly, only that it was from an admirer— someone that knew about her burning her hand.

It was weird, not to mention creepy, but she took the glass with fervor and raised it up to the dining room— thanking whomever had sent her the alcohol, before downing it.

It certainly wasn’t her most refined moment, but she needed alcohol in her system at that time— and that more than did the trick for her. She had a slight buzz going, which emptied her mind and made her work more efficiently, so whomever it was that sent her that glass of wine had saved her from losing her sanity that day.

The wine kept coming every other day or so for a whole week, until it just stopped. She was bummed at first— because hey, it was free alcohol— until she had almost completely forgotten about it; until that moment.

She grabbed a pack of instant ramen from her cupboard stash, and promptly set out to make it.

Another misconception about chefs was that they always ate the best kinds of food— even at home, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Most chefs— especially those who worked full time in a restaurant— ate junk when they got home. The quicker it cooked, the better.

So all those last-minute aglio olio dreams, that some people imagined that chefs ate at home were just those: dreams.

The irony wasn’t lost on (Y/n), though. She spent her days making some of the best and most expensive food for people, but she always ate like a broke college student at home. Hell, broke college students even had time to order pizza— and she could have done that, if she didn’t get out of work at 11 or 12 at night.

Still, she loved what she did. After all, she also had a little of the crazy gene in her.

***

Dresses weren’t really high up on (Y/n)’s list of things that she liked to wear. Not anymore, anyway.

When she was in university, she loved dressing up and putting so much effort into her make up, but when she entered culinary school (where everything that wasn’t an ingredient was a food safety hazard) she let go of all the make-up, and the dresses, as well as the high heels that went with them.

There was one thing that culinary school helped her with, though: her confidence. When before, she had a hard time talking to people and had to force herself to be sociable at parties; after culinary school, she was so used to being the center of attention, because some of her mentors had a knack for yelling at their students in front of the entire class.

Hell, in the restaurant industry, people tended to treat everyone like shit— so she had basically been through a few mortifying situations that toughened her up enough to be somewhat shameless.

A downside to being toughened up by the kitchen was the potty mouth that came with the territory, though. And so, it took quite some effort for (Y/n) to keep herself from slipping a few casual ‘fuck’s, ‘damn’s, ‘shit’s, and a few other choice words into regular conversation, like she was adding salt to a bland dish.

“(Y/n)!” Her second-oldest brothers— twins— chorused as she entered the expansive events hall.

“Hello, motherfuckers,” (Y/n) greeted with a grin, which made a few heads turn to look at her, because of her language. Frankly, she couldn’t care less. She then hugged her brothers tightly and kissed their cheeks. “I haven’t seen you two in forever. How’s life in sunny Australia?”

“Really hot,” Yoshio, the older one of the twins, answered— fanning himself with his hand to emphasize his point.

“Lots of kangaroos,” Ren, the younger one of the two, piped up with a laugh. “Some even find their way on campus.”

“And you didn’t bring one for me? What kind of brothers are you?” (Y/n) asked with a chortle, before making eye contact with Yoshio. He hadn’t been trying to be discreet with his perusal of the faint scars that littered the backs of her hands.

With a brief shake of his head at his twin, Ren vocalized his thoughts, “It’s part of her job, bro. And haven’t you gotten used to seeing them on her already?”

Yoshio didn’t even have time to answer, because he was suddenly tackled in a hug from behind. The same happened to Ren, and (Y/n) just about laughed, only to be cut off when a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her in a bear hug.

“Akio-nii!” (Y/n) managed to breathe past her lips, and her older brother set her down once more. She whirled around to face him, and was about to hit his chest with the back of her hand, when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head.

Out of all her siblings, she had to admit that she had always been the closest to Akio. They were the closest in age, but that played very little with their closeness. When their mother died a few years after Miko was born, Akio was the one who had doted on her. It was as if herself and her siblings had become self-sufficient once the matriarch of the house was gone.

The twins took care of Miko and Chiasa— which explained why the girls were clinging on to each of their brothers tightly. And while Akio took care of her, their eldest sibling— Masaru— served as their father figure, as their actual father was almost always away on business.

In line of birth order, it was Masaru, Akio, Yoshio and Ren, then her, which was followed by Chiasa, and last came Miko.

People were starting to stare at their sizeable group, but they paid the prying gazes no mind as they all caught up with each other’s lives.

“Where’s your boyfriend, (Y/n)-nee?” Chiasa asked aloud. Her curiosity wasn’t even veiled with any sort of pleasantry. It was plain as day that her younger sister wanted to meet this nonexistent boyfriend that Miko had been talking about.

“Boyfriend? There’s no such person?” (Y/n) answered with a glare at Miko. Her sister frantically shook her head and raised her hands up in mock surrender.

“It wasn’t me. It was Ren-nii that told me about it.” Miko replied in her defense.

All five pairs of eyes swiveled over to the man in question, who only balked before shaking his head. “It was otō-san. He told me you had a boyfriend.”

“But he left a message telling me that it was Miko who told him.” (Y/n) quirked her eyebrows at her sister, and then added, “Miko, tell the truth.”

“It really wasn’t me. I swear!” The youngest (L/n) pleaded earnestly, which made (Y/n) sigh and shake her head in mild irritation.

“(Y/n), there you are.” Masaru’s familiar voice rang out over the din of voices inside the ballroom. And all six of his siblings turned to look at him, as he crossed the room with an envelope in his hand. “Dad wants you to deliver the speech. Just read this. Come on, the program’s already starting.”

Her eldest brother didn’t give her much of a choice after that, as he took her by the wrist and dragged her over to where a stage was set up. She couldn’t even look over her shoulder to see their other siblings’ expressions, since she was too busy trying not to do a face plant on the floor.

It didn’t take long for her and Masaru to reach the side of the stage, where a lady in a pantsuit was waiting rather impatiently. She looked a bit frazzled already, so she didn’t want to add anymore to her stress. She knew what being under so much stress felt like, and she wasn’t going to be the reason why someone had a breakdown.

“I just need to read this, right?” (Y/n) snatched the envelope out of her brother’s hand.

“Yeah,” Masaru answered with a slight smile. He then wrapped his arms around his sister and pressed a kiss to the top of her head; which was an easy feat considering how tall he was. “Dad would do it, but he’s running a bit late. He said that he wants you to do it.”

That just sounded off to (Y/n), but she remained quiet. Now wasn’t the time for protests about taking over the company, or anything like that. If that wasn’t heavy implication coming from her father, then she didn’t know what was.

And with that, the lady with them explained her cues, before practically pushing her up the side stairs of the stage. She listened attentively to the host as he went on about useless drivel concerning the party, and then some of her background information, before finally introducing her to the crowd.

Gingerly, she made her way to the podium that was set up to the right side of the stage, and smiled at the crowd. She couldn’t exactly pick out who to smile at, since the spotlight practically blinded her, but she didn’t dwell on that fact as she opened the envelope and read through the speech that was written inside.

“What the fuck is this?” She whispered to herself, as she quickly skimmed through the contents of the speech. It sounded so impersonal and generic, even to her.

So, with a suppressed sigh of irritation, she folded the speech up and set it down on the podium. She reckoned that anything that came from her mouth would sound more sincere and personal than the drivel that was written in that letter.

“Good evening, everyone. It’s nice to see all of you celebrating with my family and I tonight,” (Y/n) began hesitantly, but eventually gathered up the courage to push through with her sudden change of plans. She just had to remember not to curse, and she would be good. “As all of you may know, Nanafumi was my parents’ dream fifty years ago. It used to be called Mochifumi, as my mother loved mochi very much. But it was changed around nineteen years ago, after my youngest sister was born. That made seven of us, hence Nana in the name, and Fumi— as in Fumiko, our mother.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/n) saw her father enter through a side entrance by the stage. He even had the gall to grin and offer her two thumbs up, which made her chuckle and shake her head. Her old man had always been a sly one.

He had planned this; down to the shitty, pre-written speech.

***

To say that that speech had taken a lot out of (Y/n) would be the understatement of the century. She felt as if most of her energy was sapped the moment she got off that goddamned stage. And one measly glass of champagne wasn’t going to cut it; which was why she was already on her third one when he came up to her.

“That speech was quite something,” Sanemi hadn’t meant for his words to come out as mocking, but they had, and he already wanted to slap himself. Initially, he was surprised to find out that the lady that he had been so hard-up for at that restaurant was his boss’ boss’ boss’ daughter; but he had gotten over that initial shock and had carefully crafted a plan to get her to go home with him.

Or maybe even make out with him in a supply closet somewhere. Anything to get her to think about him enough to make her interested.

“Thank you, but… do I know you?”

Sanemi had to admit that the comment stung, but he wasn’t going to let that deter him from getting the (h/c) haired woman where he wanted her; preferably in his bed.

#shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #jen writes

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delbeugre · 4 years

Text

Have you seen SADIE BEUGRE? DEL is in HER/THEIR SENIOR year. The MATHEMATICS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE/THEY are GRITTY, BEWITCHING, RETICENT and WASPISH. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE BIT AN EX-BOYFRIEND’S PINKY FINGER OFF AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE CHEATED, AND THEN HAPPILY SERVED TIME FOR IT.

im tommy im a freak and of course i am here to get freakalicious with u all... this is my newest frankenstein type creation named sadie i know .02% about her yet but i am more than confident she will b nothing but a fun time! like this if ur down to plot!

TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF JAIL/PROSECUTION, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DRUG USE

BACKSTORY

capricorn sun / virgo moon / scorpio rising

raised by her uncle Big (his name) who is a hermit shut in town local in the depths of the florida marshland like some goosebumps protagonist. hes gone far past socially acceptable in terms of his ability to connect with the modern person but is wise beyond belief... his whole vibe is a warped cross between a cryptid and a mountain man that forages and cooks neighborhood plants. married for 27 years before his wife passed from illness. its quite possibly the only thing hes ever been emotional about

but dels entry to his life throws a wrench in his sadness (despite abandonment being what they bond over). she takes the focus away from his loss with her presence; her dad, his brother, died in a tragic train-car collision around the same time (which is speculated to be a suicide bt nobody can ever really be sure). he was a single parent so her custody is thrown up in the air for a few months as cps decides what they r gna do with this freshly orphaned little scrapper

she just kinda turns up on his doorstep n from there they cohabit a space. shes arnd 6-7 at this time... big never seemed to b phased by the fact tht she was a child n tended to treat her more like an apprentice or guest. he was never close to her father because of their age difference, being the older out of the two, so to have his daughter become his responsibility is just..... weird

this doesnt mean that he wouldnt provide for her bt it was. not very parental whatsoever.... no conversation or interaction beyond what was necessary. she was a mute fr a while and still is? to a degree.... very short spoken

when she got to her preteens he offered her an allowance in exchange for little odds and ends of stuff to be taken care of around the house. errands n all tht.... sometimes he wld purposefully leave things for her to pick up n take care of without mentioning it for a bonus. taught her the importance of saving your money and the horrid corruptness of a society basing everythings worth off paper. big exposed her to a lot of knowledge and took advantage of her silent curiosity by fueling it with books, homeschooling, life skills (catching a fish, setting a trap, knowing your berries in the woods...... the works)

her teens carried out the same way bt with the introduction of a real job, a spot down at the local butcher shop checking people out at the register and helping around the back of house. del knows a great deal abt cow/pig/chicken/etc anatomy from her years here..... she committed to being 100% vegan into her early twenties because of her trauma frm this occupation

it paid very well tho n was the best gig she was going to get within a reasonable biking route from home. so she settled!

the plan wasnt to keep it up for long anyway. she worked rly hard for her spot at yates and didnt intend to ever screw herself over. her plan was to get her bachelors, masters, become a professor, pursue a personal hobby of agriculture and build an elaborate greenhouse to live in

bt things happen.....

some 35yr old douche with a green thumb woos her at a gardening store n swoops in to teach her a little more abt romance; all of this, of course, under the guise that he had all these tips and tricks for living environmentally friendly. a lame hippie wannabe that shouldve never even approached her bt alas.... he did

love is a touchy subject n it hadnt been something she set her sights on, but she was interested in wht this dude could teach her n at 19 she ended up falling in love. she delayed her education to stay an extra year back home and work out another plan which included him

this was very disappointing to her uncle bt he didnt have anything to say abt it. it was never parental before n it was never going to be, so this was another lesson she wld just have to overcome on her own

it turns out that she doesnt care for infidelity. when the confession comes out its met with a lot of screaming, bawling, blistering white hot anger. the whole incident is blacked out of her mind to b honest....

matters of the heart are no longer something to concern herself with because of the repercussions of her rash behavior regarding heartbreak O________O she spent a year in jail n still has to attend therapy / anger management meetings

deep down she is still hurting. there was a lot of pain... bt the sadness is not over the loss of some noob. she is in a state of constant disappointment, detaching from herself out of shame. putting her own life on pause only for it to turn out like that? stupid stupid stupid...

PERSONALITY

chugging along! tldr spectre-like swamp nymph aura with the slightest (not so slight) unhinged feral tendencies

delicate like a moth resting in the gleam of a flashlight.... her anger singes her wings when shes too comfortable staying in one place, so theres always constant stimulation, always shifting gears. shes prone to feeling threatened; that being said, sadie is wary of walking in crowds, a little bit skittish when approached without making eye contact beforehand. like a small grey kitten..... in a big wide world

has a hard time keeping a conversation bt is very interested in debate, and even more so in studying alongside someone in complete silence. it reminds her of home in the same sense tht her uncle wld nudge her to keep reading by always having his own book open

doesnt have many friends and is alright with that. rumors are tht she is still a virgin bt who really knows? not i...... bt i wldnt be surprised if this was true. shes not impressed by people nor material items so this whole yates crowd is a turn off

she is truly clueless when it comes to how to behave around anyone her age. i think she understands but it just doesnt compute. she could come off as impolite bt it is just standoffishness? some people cld try to crack her but i dont think even she knows what that would be, or what that would look like. even in her one (1) failed relationship it was never deep heart to hearts or sharing dinner..... solitude is her realm

del is very comfortable with herself, very open with her wardrobe! doesnt leave too much to the imagination? she appreciates the human experience n expresses that thru this whole “body is a temple” type thing.... not quite confidence, but proudness of being. has gotten multiple notices frm professors for her tops being too sheer, nylons too ratted up, etc. has dirt under her fingernails half the time, chipped polish, some chapstick. smudges her eyeshadow on with her fingers

doesnt smoke cigarettes all too often but is dependent on weed. it kinda perpetuates her paranoid demeanor bt at the same time it keeps her lax enough to be able to mentally handle city life

her room is a playground for huge monstera plants, christmas cacti, ivy creeping along the doorway. she sleeps on a tiny thin mattress on the floor with a linen sheet and has her books stacked up on the ground next to it to hold her ashtray. the whole thing is dumb empty

takes her studies seriously and pinches every penny she can..... she has never ordered herself a coffee frm somewhere before, ordered food frm a restaurant... nothing. i wld think the most she would branch out from harvesting everything on her own is buying a bag of sunflower seeds frm a gas station, but even then, she much prefers eating stuff she grows herself. has a tomato plant, some basil beginning to sprout, etc.... manageable crops for any college students tiny space

...

bt yea thats it thats all! connections cld be all over the place. im legit open to anything. theres only a few tht come to mind right off that bat:

a few people that get along with her? same classes? they shared a bowl n now theyre getting into the nitty gritty of some personal conversation that is veering into no mans land....

some sort of clueless makeover moment? arent rly into sadie as a person bt see a lot of potential... perhaps need a plus one to a party on the fly and figure thats the best option theyve got

crushes? this wld be fun n potentially dangerous! like playing with a hot cast iron pan or something :)

again im vry new to rp so i wld like to leave a lot of stuff up to chemistry, brainstorming n stuff like that, but please consider everything on the table! what i hav mentioned is the tip of the iceberg im so burnt out n i wrote a lot more than i intended to i am so sorry but i promise i am friendly

#yatesintro #/tw implied violence #/tw death mention #/tw drug use #/tw jail mention

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tragicies · 3 years

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♡ ˙ chris pine , he / him , thirty - eight / 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓. 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 has been displaced ! originally from 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁 𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙺 , he has found themselves in new york city , without their memories . they’re currently working as a kidnergarden teacher & tend to come across as CHARISMATIC, DETERMINED , but also HEADSTRONG & RECKLESS . we’ll see if their 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 , 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 , 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒏 personality will be their downfall or their saving grace in these streets .

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 .

full name : captain james tiberius “jim” kirk . alises : n/a . age : thirty eight . gender & pronouns : cis male, he / him . sexual & romantic orientation : bisexual / biromantic . species : human . star sign : aries . identifying marks : tba .

𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 .

super summed up version of kirk go .

born in riverside , iowa , kirk went from town rebel to the youngest known starfleet captain quicker than anyone had ever thought possible .

he’s the captain of the u.s.s. enterprise , finest starship in the galaxy , & he & his crew are on a five year space exploration mission to explore new frontiers . to “ boldly go where no man has gone before .”

his closest friends include his first officer , a vulcan known as mr. spock , & his cheif medical officer leonard mccoy ( nicknamed ‘bones’ by kirk ) .

this is genuinely all you need to know about star trek they are just exploring space my man .

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 .

jim’s father , an architect , was killed in a random attack when jim was no more than two years old . he hardly remembers the man but he still feels sentimental to him .

after his death , his mother had them both pack up & move to new york to stay with her parents for sometime until she they could get back on their feet . eventually she found a steady job & a fairly nice apartment & they settled in .

in school , kirk the class clown & rebel child who’d get girls giggling & waving at him before someone kid three times his side knocked him on his ass for being just too cocky .

though you didn’t expect it of him , jim was actually a certified genius too . his smarts , however , he found at embarrassing at first until he was sat down by a therapist his mother made him see out of worry .

something this man said to kirk , something about how he was wasting his life & talents & would get nowhere , enraged kirk enough to suddenly change most his ways .

his junior year of high school not only put him at the top of his class , his extra workload even had him graduating a year early . he got into an engineering program in the state & kept a solid 4.0 most his time . engineering didn’t end up working out but afterwards jim happily bounced majors just for the fun of it .

letting his smarts take over him allowed him to explore another side of him as he got into books & chess as hobbies rather than things he pretended to like in high school .

in college he was introduced med student castiel who drew him in with his stoic nature , dark hair , & serious gaze . something about kirk clearly intrigued him , too . enough that the two dated for somewhere around three years until , sadly , they mutually broke it off when balancing studies & a relationship was a bit too much . not to mention that , though they seemed to work well , it was always like they were looking for something , or someone , in the other that was never quite there .

during school , jim also found an interest in flying . introduced to it by a buddy looking to become a pilot , jim was fascinated by the idea of going to the skies . he kept to school , but learning to fly became a constant side hobby of his .

he eventually graduated school with enough credits to probably claim several degrees but left with one in early childhood education . he’s since taken up a position as a kindergarden teacher .

though not what he expected , jim loves working with kids . he adores his job even if he does often dream of his flying hobby sometimes .

after school jim also met steve . his first serious relationship since school , jim ended up falling for steve hard . he wasn’t looking for something that wasn’t there like with cas , it was just steve & he didn’t need anymore . he was more than happy ! & steve seemed to be as well . for three entire years . then jim met bucky . or , rather , saw steve around bucky . while steve had looked at jim lovingly plenty of times before , it was nothing like how he looked at bucky . it hurts to realize you’ve never been THE one after so long .

knowing what he had to do , jim concocted a lie to break up with steve . telling him he was developing feelings for someone else & a whole lot of “it’s not you , it’s me” . it hurt -- it hurt horribly -- but he knew , for steve to be truly happy , it was the right thing to do .

it’s been a year since his break up & jim has gone from happily taken to one of the most eligible bachelors in new york . he’s slept his way around manhattan by this point .

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 .

none so far but i’ll add as i get some !

#intro: jim #dphq:intro

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hystericalweenie · 4 years

Text

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Three: Little Things

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Since you guys seemed to like the text messages between Y/n and George, I decided to include a chunk of them, since there weren’t any in the last part.

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Digital penetration (fingering lolz)

12:36 am, George: I cannot stop thinking about you.

My stomach churned with butterflies, but I wouldn’t let him know.

12:38 am, Me: Creepy, much?

12:38 am, Me: Kiddingggg :P

12:40 am, George: Haha. Very funny.

12:41 am, Me: Have you gone back to rehab to visit your friend?

12:43 am, George: Yes, Dean and I went yesterday after work. He’s not doing very well, but I know he’ll get better. Addiction is very scary.

12:44 am, Me: I can’t imagine. It must be hard seeing him so sick.

12:45 am, George: It is, but you’ve made all of this a lot easier for me to deal with. You make me forget about every single little flaw in life.

12:47 am, Me: Then I guess I’m doing my job.

12:48 am, George: You distract me too much sometimes, especially after last night.

12:49 am, Me: Really? Huh, I wonder why, that’s weird.

12:51 am, George: *insert eye roll*

12:52 am, Me: It’s time to get emojis, old man.

12:53 am, George: Nah

12:53 am, George: Unless you want to show me how to install them this weekend?

12:55 am, Me: Sounds like a plan, grandpa

12:56 am, George: You must be into older guys then, huh?

12:58 am, Me: Yup, I have a bingo kink

12:59 am, George: Gross.

12:59 am, George: I’m not thaaat old, I’m only 27.

I was twenty-four. Was that weird? Would he think that’s weird?

1:00 am, Me: When’s your birthday?

1:02 am, George: Next week, actually. March 13th.

1:03 am, Me: You doing anything to celebrate?

1:05 am, George: Eh, probably not. Dean and I might go to a bar or something, that’s what we’ve done in the past.

1:05 am, George: You’re welcome to come along if that’s the plan.

1:07 am, Me: I’d like that a lot, actually. I won’t get plastered this time, I promise.

1:08 am, George: Mhhhmmm.

1:08 am, George: It’s getting late, you should go to bed love

There it was, again. Love. I melted in my bed.

1:09 am, Me: You’re the one texting me!

1:10 am, George: You don’t haave to respond.

1:12 am, Me: But I want to.

1:13 am, George: See, there’s the problem.

1:14 am, Me: Is it a problem?

1:16 am, George: Yes, because I’m making you lose sleep.

1:17 am, Me: I don’t mind.

1:18 am, George: You’re making this harder for me, Y/n.

1:20 am, Me: Fine. I’m going to sleep.

1:21 am, George: *insert me sticking my tongue out*

1:22 am, George: Good. Goodnight, love.

I woke up the next morning with dark rings underneath my eyes, but they were well worth it due to our conversation; I’d found out that George was twenty-seven years old and his birthday was on March thirteenth, making him turn twenty-eight the following week. I wondered if our slight age difference would make things weird, I hoped it wouldn’t.

I went to work that morning with extra concealer on my face, and a sleek black pencil skirt with a dainty blouse. I rolled through New York traffic, waved at the receptionist once I’d arrived at the building, and made my way to the second floor with the not-so-speedy elevator. I welcomed my desk, waving at silently at Dean before stretching my hands and typing my results from the experiment.

The CBD oil experiment had gone pretty well; I used it only temples after coming home from work with a headache and I’d definitely noticed a difference. I spent the entire morning rewriting everything over and over again, wanting to perfect my first article and impress the HBIC that Connie was.

When lunch had rolled around, I decided to head to the small cafeteria to see what they had in store for me that afternoon, hoping it’d give me some energy to finish writing the article. I decided to go with my regular salad, picking out the toppings, as I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around noticing the presence of Faith, the small ginger haired girl I’d met on my first day. I smiled at her, before returning back to my salad.

“I meant to tell you before, but your idea for your experiment is really good, I’m kind of shocked at how well your first pitch is, actually,” she admitted with a smile as she opened some cabinets, scavenging for food.

I blushed at her compliment, turning my face to look at her.

“Thanks, Faith, that means a lot coming from you,” I beamed at her. “Your article of your interview with that producer from The Bachelor was amazing!”

I saw her cheeks tint pink as she turned her body to me after finding a small bag of chips.

“Really? You couldn’t tell that I was nervous during the interview?” she asked worriedly, her thin, groomed eyebrows knitting together anxiously.

I shook my head. “Not at all! It was perfect.”

She chewed on her lip before smiling at me.

“Thanks, uhm, maybe we could work on something together sometime? After the article you’re working on right now, of course,” she suggested.

I grinned at the girl.

“Of course!”

“Okay! I’ll see you around, Y/n.” She exited the room with a soft smile, and left me to finish my salad.

I was glad to have finally made a girl friend, especially someone who could potentially help me with my writing. I finished my salad-making, returning to my desk and immediately conversing with Dean.

“So,” I began, shoveling the lettuce into my mouth. “Any new office drama we can talk about while we’re on lunch?”

The people that usually sat beside us had gone off to some restaurant down the block from the office, leaving Dean and I by ourselves at the table.

“George heard two people goin’ at it in one of the conference rooms earlier,” Dean shared with a laugh, his blue eyes softening in humor.

Hearing him mention George made me wonder if George had told Dean about me. I brushed this thought off, knowing it’d result in unnecessary anxiety.

“Do people usually have sex in the office?” I asked, lowering my voice.

He shrugged.

“Sometimes, I guess, but George works on the third floor with the most empty offices, so he hears about it more than me, I’m sure.”

I shoveled more salad into my mouth, as I pondered what it’d be like having sex at the office. Having sex on one of the empty conference tables and risking someone coming in or hearing, or doing it on a desk after everyone’s gone, the building empty and the bright lights of New York lighting up the office through the windows; my legs were quivering at the memory of George’s tongue and imagining how he could fuck me at the office. It’d be so scandalous, so risky, but why did I like thinking about it?

“Y/n?”

I brought my head up to the brunette, observing his confused expression.

“What?”

“I asked how the article’s going,” he repeated.

Shit, did I space out that bad?

“Oh, it’s going well,” I stammered.

“Don’t be nervous about it, I’m sure Connie’s going to love it,” he reassured me, his expressions softening with concern.

I was not just spacing out due to anxiety from the article, but I led him to believe so because I was sure as hell not going to tell what I was really thinking about.

“You’re right,” I agreed.

I shoveled the last of the lettuce into my mouth, the fork lingering in my mouth as I thought of George’s lips; I missed the taste of him.

I wondered where his office was; I wanted needed to see him. I needed to feel his lips against mine, I needed to feel his hands explore my body, I needed something to relieve the aching between my legs.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I announced, grabbing my phone and quickly exiting the office.

I scurried into the elevator, pressing the third floor button and opening my front camera on my phone to perfect my appearance. I ran my fingers through my hair, teasing my roots to make my locks look tousled and sexy. As the elevator stilled, the doors opened, and I headed down the hallway, hoping for a sign that had George’s name on it for navigation. There was an open room with tables of desks like my floor, but it was much smaller, revealing the small amount of people in the art department.

It led to a hallway with several rooms on each side, as I slowly walked down and turned my head to each door in hopes of seeing his name or his face somewhere. I was finally introduced to a wooden door with “George MacKay” written on it. My cheeks flushed, and I knocked on the door with my knuckles. I heard footsteps as my heart raced, his door swinging open and revealing his face.

His hair was in perfect form, his locks styled effortlessly while he was dressed in a light blue button up and slacks, his blue shirt making his eyes look even lighter. His shirt fit his torso just right and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins that trickled up his arms. I licked my lips at the sight of him, as he fisted my shirt and pulled me inside of his office, kicking his door closed.

“I have to say, this is the best surprise I’ve gotten in a while,” he muttered, his eyes looking me up and down.

His hands wrapped around my waist, going to my lower back as his face inched towards mine. I felt his warm minty breath welcome me, already relieving my craving for him. I moved my nose to gently nudge his, before my lips attacked him. I couldn’t hold back anymore; George took away any self control I'd had in the past.

My hands went to cup his face before snaking around his neck. I felt his hands travel down to my ass, squeezing it, causing me to moan into his lips. I pulled on his hair instinctively, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He began walking, making me walk backwards until my back hit the desk. I pulled away, as I sat myself on it without thinking, scrunching my skirt up to my waist so that my legs could open for him to stand in between them. He stood himself between my legs once I’d given him access, staring at me momentarily. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen as he stared intently at me.

“What do you want to do, Y/n?”

I chewed on my lip. There was no way in hell that George and I’s first time would be at my work. But, I needed a relief; the ache between my legs was too much, almost painful at this point.

“Can you make me feel good?” I whimpered confidently, my fingers threading through his locks as we looked at each other.

His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded, his cheeks turning pink at my request.

“How do you want me to make you feel good, love?” he asked, his hand coming up to cup my face.

He slipped his thumb between my lips, surprising me. Without thinking, I swirled my tongue around his finger and gently sucked on it. His eye lids drooped as he watched me in awe, probably imagining my mouth on his cock. I opened my mouth as he removed his thumb and I looked at him innocently.

“Your fingers, George. Please,” I begged.

Still gazing at me, he lowered his hand, pushing my panties to the side with his index finger.

“Your wish is my command,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb running down straight to my clit.

My hips bucked at the action, and he attached his lips to mine to swallow all of my moans. He rubbed circles on the sensitive bud before running his finger through my folds. My fingers knitted themselves into his hair as he teased my entrance, driving me absolutely insane. His finger slid into me easily due to how wet I was, how wet he had made me. He pulled his lips away from me, using his free hand to insert a finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, as I tried not to let any moans escape my mouth while he attached his lips to my neck. His thumb began picking up its pace, his finger curling into me faster. I gently nibbled on his fingers as my stomach began to twist, my legs sticking straight outward and trembling. The delicious pleasure was building and building, and I wasn’t sure how long I could last.

“You gonna cum, angel?”

Angel.

I cried out against his finger with a closed mouth, hitting my climax as I came undone onto his fingers. My jaw went slack as I rode out my high, fingers threading themselves and pulling on his hair for dear life. My body spasmed against him, overwhelmed with pleasure. Once my legs finally relaxed, he slowly removed his fingers from my heat, and latched his digits into his mouth. He hummed, sucking me off of his fingers as I watched him in awe. He removed his fingers from his mouth, before grabbing some tissues off of his desk.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay, love?” He informed me, looking at me for permission.

I nodded, watching as he got onto his knees and began gently wiping my pussy with the tissues. My breath hitched at the contact, sensitive after my climax. I watched him as he looked intently at my heat, concentrating, as he strategically cleaned where I’d been dripping.

“I wish I could’ve cleaned you up with my mouth, love, I hope you know that,” he admitted, looking up at me.

I whimpered, looking down at him as he gazed at me with innocent blue eyes.

He pressed his lips against each side of my inner thigh, before standing up and tossing the tissues into his trash can. He returned between my legs, moving his palms to cup each side of my face.

“Y/f/n Y/l/n, you’re going to be the death of me,” he confessed with a chuckle.

“Rest in peace, George MacKay,” I joked. “Cause: Y/f/n Y/l/n being too sexy.”

“That's for damn sure,” he moved to peck my lips, his fingers pulling down the bunched up fabric of my skirt. I held onto his shoulders as I stood up, needing extra support for my weak legs.

I flattened the skirt, adjusting my top as well. “How do I look?” I attempted to brush through my hair with my fingers.

“You look perfect,” he smiled, pecking my lips again. “I wish we could see each other after work this week, but I’m supposed to visit Andrew at the rehabilitation center with Dean until he starts improving.”

My eyebrows furrowed and I brought my hand to his bicep, ignoring how muscular it felt.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “You have to be there for your friends.”

He looked down at me, his expression softening as I watched him examine my features.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said softly, his eyes returning back to mine. “You’re one fucking amazing woman.” He grinned, crinkles appearing next to his eyes.

My cheeks flushed as I fought back the urge to melt straight into the floor; I felt like I could have passed out if I hadn’t forced myself to remain composed and on my two feet.

“I’m not all that special,” I assured him. “I’d say I’m pretty much just an average millennial woman.”

He rolled his eyes. “But you’re not,” he argued. “You’re so fucking intelligent and determined, it truly baffles me. Most adults go into work, because they have to; you come into work everyday, prepared to blow everybody’s fucking minds, no matter what it takes.”

He brought his hand up to his face, the pad of his thumb stroking my bottom lip. “You have these little quirks, like, you chew on your bottom lip whenever you’re nervous or focusing on something.” He poked my cheek with his finger, causing me to smile. “You have these adorable little dimples.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You roll your eyes all the time, too, which could get you in trouble one of these days, love.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, not wanting to prove him right. I shook my head instead.

“You’re stubborn too,” he added, noticing my expression. “But, I think you’re the most kind and forgiving woman I’ve ever met; I don’t think I know someone who could forgive their roommate for the shit she’s done to you,” he admitted. “But you want to see the good in every person.”

My eyebrows furrowed at the accuracy of his observations.

“How do you know all of this?” I interrogated, my eyes squinting in suspicion.

He smiled softly. “I notice all of the little things about you, love. They’re hard to miss when I’m with you.”

I bit back my giddy smile. “I notice a lot of the little things about you, too, George.”

He stepped closer to me. “Like what?” he chided with a smirk.

I brought my fingers to the sides of his eyes–careful enough not to touch his bruised eye–mimicking his previous actions. “The crinkles by your eyes whenever you smile or laugh.” I moved my finger to his nose, gently running along the bridge of it. “The way your nostrils flare whenever you’re concentrated or confused.” I poked the small freckles that were sprinkled along his nose. “These adorable freckles.” I could see him blush under my touch. My fingers went up to trace his right eyebrow. “Your eyebrows furrow whenever you’re focused on something.” My fingers moved down to his arm, tracing the veins. “The way your veins travel from the backs of your hands to your forearms.”

My palm moved back up to his face, cupping his cheek as I stared into his blue piercing eyes that gazed back at me.

“You’re incredibly loyal, and as much as you may not want to admit it, you’re hardworking and you love your job.” I stroked the small freckles along his cheek with my thumb. “I notice all of the little things about you, too. They’re hard to miss whenever I’m with you,” I rephrased his words sincerely with a whisper.

I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, as he gulped and stared at me with an intense expression.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/n.”

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader #x reader fic #fanfic #1917 #1917 cast #dean charles chapman

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swtorpadawan · 4 years

Text

Breaking Even

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.”

Captain Errul Marsh grumbled under his breath as his light freighter, the Devil’s Horn, finally broke orbit from the infamous Smuggler’s Moon. The Zabrak merchant captain – which, sure, made him a smuggler if you wanted to be crude about it – pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. It was getting harder and harder to make even a (moderately) honest living in his line of work, especially where it concerned the Hutts.

But that was the galaxy for you. With war brewing between the Republic and the Empire everyone was quickly picking sides and carving out their territory. The true independents were getting squeezed out or just dying off.

Errul might have done business with the Republic. He might even have appreciated the Republic when they weren’t trying to arrest him over one of their silly ‘law’ things.

But Errul Marsh was, above all, a true independent. He owned his own freighter outright and incredibly he was debt free, even if he was just keeping his head just above water. He’d die with his ship before he gave any of that up.

It was an existence that had its price. He hadn’t seen or even heard from a family member in decades. Friends (the kind who hadn’t tried to stab him in the back, anyway) had been few and far between. Crew and companions aboard his ship had proved fleeting, signing on with him and staying for a time but each eventually leaving when they finally found something better for themselves. Lovers, likewise, came and went. Usually amicably and with no hard feelings, but sometimes only when they realized that the ace smuggler would never be tied down to anything, not even by love.

He didn’t begrudge any of them – family, friends, lovers, all – anything. Everyone in the galaxy was chasing after something and they were welcome to chase it. Many of his old associates – the ones he’d stayed in touch with, anyway – had done well for themselves. Two of his erstwhile proteges were now captaining their own cargo ships. Others were running cantinas or small shipping companies. One had ultimately made a name for herself as a Mandalorian bounty hunter, of all things. Indeed, there were worse legacies a man could leave behind.

Still, as the Zabrak had inevitably advanced deeper into middle age, he recognized that his had become mostly a solitary existence. And he was comfortable with that, but still, every now and then…

Ah, well. Life was too short for regrets.

Regardless, loner or not, he still had to make a living. Paying off those Cartel ‘customs agents’ at the spaceport had cut deeply into his profits on this trip. In fact, after his projected expenses for docking at Carrick Station, what with refueling and the Republic’s precious ‘docking fees’ for non-Republic personnel, he’d barely break even after delivering his cargo of adrenals.

Errul exhaled again. He wasn’t that old for a Zabrak, but he was for an independent smuggler. This life would be the death of him.

Force help him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The ship wouldn’t be ready to jump to hyperspace for about half an hour, and it wouldn’t reach Carrick for a couple of days yet. Still, there was no reason to prolong anything that needed doing.

Errul rose from his seat, feeling his back ache in protest. He’d been in hundreds (thousands?) of firefights throughout his life, and he could still beat any young up-and-comers on the draw if it came down to it. But the price being paid by his aging body didn’t make it any easier.

Silently telling his back to stow it, the old smuggler made his way to the cargo hold. The room was stocked with pallets full of stim-packs and combat adrenals, and his ‘arrangement’ with the Republic meant that this shipment was bound for their military. With fighting breaking out in so many theaters, the ‘Pubs couldn’t be too choosy these days about from whom they received their supplies.

Errul surveyed the stacks. It was all in order. The Cartel agents had threatened to delay his departure as they ‘processed’ the outgoing cargo and verified the contents. Errul knew that game, and knew how to haggle them down on the inevitable bribe he offered them. The delay would have cost him with the Republic, and he certainly couldn’t let those agents spend too much time in his cargo hold, anyway.

“Barely breaking even.” The Zabrak sighed again as he stomped his foot three times on the floor panel to the right between the pallets.

“You can come out now.” Errul called out to the empty room. “It’s safe.”

It took several seconds, but finally, tentatively, the floor panel slid open, revealing the secret smuggling compartment he had installed years before.

Huddled within, looking up at him with a frightened expression, was a young Twi’lek woman.

She’s still rattled. He reminded himself. He’d have to play this carefully. Very slowly, making no sudden movements, he reached down, offering her his hand.

“It’s safe.” He repeated softly. “Nar Shaddaa is already behind us.”

The woman – the girl he should say – slowly reached up and took his hand. He helped her out of the hold, and she looked around anxiously.

Errul regarded her with care. Looking at her now in the normal lighting of his ship’s cargo hold, she was clearly even younger than he’d originally thought, having met her in the darkened chambers of Donje the Hutt’s extravagant sanctum. She was still wearing the yellow jumpsuit he had given her earlier – it was at least two sizes too large for her, but it had been all he had lying around that she could wear. It was certainly more appropriate than the skimpy ‘slave girl’ outfit she was still wearing beneath it that left nothing to the imagination. (There was no way he was going to have her running around his ship dressed like that, thank you very much.) Her face and lekku were adorned with elaborate markings which Errul judged to be natural Twi’lek birthmarks and not artificial tattoos. She was quite beautiful, with a painfully feminine figure and lovely blue eyes almost matching the shade of her skin. But then, physical attractiveness tended to be a much sought-after trait of Twi’leks working for Hutts.

Certainly, with the female Twi’leks. Errul reflected somberly. Rescuing her from that disgusting Hutt on Nar Shaddaa, ferreting her to the spaceport undetected and smuggling her off-world had pressed even his considerable talents. He didn’t doubt for one moment that both of their lives would get very complicated if the Hutt ever found out what he’d done.

“Donje cannot reach me?” she swallowed, finally looking up at Errul, hopefully. Her hands had slid from Errul’s hand to his arm.

The Zabrak shook his head for emphasis.

“No, that giant slug can’t reach you here. In a while, we’ll be in hyperspace. After that, you’ll be out of Hutt space entirely, and you’ll be as free as a bird.”

The girl blinked up at him with her blue eyes, still gripping his arm for comfort.

“I…. thank you, master.”

Errul shook his head vigorously again. He had to put the kibosh on that idea right away.

“I’m not your master, kid.” He insisted. “Call me ‘Captain’. Or Errul, if you like. You don’t have a master anymore.” Errul tried to give her a comforting look. “That’s what being ‘free’ means.”

The smuggler let that sit with her for a moment. He figured she’d probably been born into slavery… or maybe she’d been taken so young that she didn’t remember anything else. The Twi’lek looked down at the floor, and for a moment, Errul was worried he’d lost her entirely. But after a long moment, she looked back up at him with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Free.” She whispered, like it was all a dream to her.

Errul grinned. “Free.” He repeated, for emphasis. The Zabrak tilted his head. “What’s your name, kid?”

The Twi’lek swallowed, nervously. Probably she’d been forbidden to use her real name in public. Forced renaming was a common enough practice among Hutt pleasure slaves.

“Rhi’kih.”

Errul then gave her his most charming smile. It was a look that had melted the hearts of hundreds of women over the years. (And, Errul reflected, a handful of men, as well.)

“Are you hungry, Rhi’kih?”

“I…” the Twi’lek looked up at him, uncertain, as she regarded his expression. Finally, her features softened and she swallowed again.

“Yes, I am.”

**********************************

The galley wasn’t much to look at. To be honest, with the Devil’s Horn having only one permanent resident who wasn’t a droid – that being Errul himself – it didn’t really need to be anything special.

Yet another benefit of bachelorhood. Errul reflected. Unlike some of his contemporaries, he disliked over-decoration, preferring the utilitarian to any ostentatious aesthetic.

Nevertheless, he had always tried to keep it fairly well-stocked and in good order for when he did have company, and with the help of his Seetoo droid, it was kept clean as well. At this moment, there were exactly two frozen bantha steaks left, and Errul decided now was as good a time as any to break them out of the freezer and grill them up.

The girl - Rhi’kih, he had to remember – had sat down at the small table only at Errul’s prodding. She was still very skittish, taking everything in with trepidation. He couldn’t blame her, given where she’d been living.

Finally finished preparing the food, he served the steaks up on a pair of plates, along with glasses of blue milk for each of them.

“Here. Eat up.” Errul smiled, taking his own seat after distributing utensils.

The Zabrak took up his knife and fork and then tasted the succulent meat, closing his eyes in pleasure. Out of all the skills he’d picked up over the years, learning how to cook – properly, and not like the bachelor he was – easily ranked in the top three in having improved his personal quality of life, going along with how to pilot a ship and how to talk your way out of a tight spot.

(Shooting a blaster? Oh, don’t be silly. He was born knowing how to do that.)

Opening his eyes again, he noticed that Rhi’kih was merely poking the steak with her fork, clearly troubled over something.

“Something wrong?” he asked, concerned. “Its not undercooked for you, is it?”

“Uhm. No.” She looked down embarrassed. “My… my master never let me use knives. No one taught me.”

Errul cringed inwardly. There were a hundred plus one evils resulting from slavery. One of the most underrated was the lack of basic life skills many oppressed people suffered from even after finding their freedom. It could keep them on the fringes of society forever, and perhaps, more likely to end up in the desperate circumstances that had seen them become slaves in the first place. Neither the Republic government nor anyone else seemed equipped to help them acclimate.

“Here.” Errul got up and came around the table. Very gently, he took her by the wrist and helped her grasp the knife. She let him, having apparently grown comfortable with him by now.

“Hold it like this. Good. Now the fork like that – yes. Good. Now cut…. Perfect.”

It took about a minute. But Errul was finally satisfied the Twi’lek had learned how to cut her own food adequately.

“It’ll get more natural with time. Trust me.” He reassured her, observing her progress as he took his seat back.

Rhi’khi finally tasted her steak. Her eyes lit up, and he couldn’t help but think of it as a sign of life.

“Good?” he asked with a grin.

“I…. yes!” she gasped.

Errul was rewarded with a lovely smile from the Twi’lek. It was the first time he’d seen her smile genuinely since meeting her. He’d seen the conditions under which slaves were kept on Nar Shaddaa, and what sustenance they were given. Occasionally, pleasure slaves like Rhi’khi would be fed rich food or wine from the plates and goblets of their masters, almost as if they were pets. The rest of the time they tended to be served an unappetizing gruel back in their pens. Neither option was particularly healthy in Errul’s estimation.

A reasonable nutritional diet – including bantha steaks – was another thing she’d have to adjust to.

As it turned out, Rhi’khi was famished. Her table manners needed some work, but she ate her bantha steak and drank her blue milk with gusto. Errul took it as a positive sign; she’d have to learn to pace herself, but that could come later.

Errul was almost done with his steak when he glanced up, realizing that the girl was eyeing him tentatively as if chewing something over.

He put aside his utensils.

“What is it now?” he asked.

The Twi’lek swallowed, then reached out, laying her hand on his.

“I owe you everything for freeing me… Captain.” Rhi’khi smiled up at him, coyly. It was the same smile she’d worn while dancing for Donje’s visitors back on Nar Shaddaa. Noting her brief pause, Errul suspected that she had had to stop herself from calling him ‘master’ again. “I am… very grateful.” Her fingers gently entangled themselves with his, her thumb brushing against his palm.

Errul felt a sudden but familiar warmth in his belly and down to his loins. This beautiful young woman – with her lovely figure, pretty blue eyes and coy smile – was offering him comfort. Even at Errul’s age, the urges still came, and he certainly couldn’t deny the Twi’lek’s sex appeal.

It was the Zabrak’s turn to swallow, as he looked up into Rhi’khi’s eyes.

Errul Marsh prided himself on his ability to read people. During negotiations. During games at the Pazzak table. During a tense stand-off with guns drawn. And the fact that he was still alive after all this time was a sign that he was good at it. It had always been a talent, but he’d refined it over the years with invaluable experience.

So it was that he noticed things. In particular, the slight tension around the girl’s otherwise enticing eyes.

No.

This was not a young woman who was genuinely smitten or enchanted by him. (Galaxy knows Errul knew what that looked like, even if it had been awhile.) No. This was a girl who was, even now, still worried that he would sell her off to the next gangster he ran into or that he’d otherwise abandon her to some unknown fate the moment she became inconvenient.

In her mind, this was about taking control of the situation in the only way she knew how. Rhi’khi was desperately trying to offer him something to ensure he would protect and look after her, this was only coin she could possibly offer him. It bothered him that she’d been conditioned to think that her sex appeal was all she could ever offer to the galaxy. Errul added that to the growing list of consequences of her enslavement. The fear of going back to Nar Shaddaa or the fear of the unknown would lead her to continue living the life she had been living, even after she had just risked everything to escape that very life.

After all, it was all she knew.

That wasn’t what bothered him the most, though.

No, what bothered him the most was knowing – knowing – that not so many years ago, Errul would have taken her up on the offer in a heartbeat. By now, his lips would have been on hers, she’d have been propped up on the table and soon the clothes would have gone flying. (And few of Errul’s lovers had ever complained about his skills in the bedchamber.) Oh, he’d have shown her a great time; he’d have taken her on a trade run or two to some exotic planets and shown her sights few beings could even imagine. Beautiful beaches, majestic mountains, cities that were clean and comfortable in stark contrast to the filth and grit she’d seen on Nar Shaddaa.

He’d have let it last a week. Or maybe – maybe – as long as a month. (He’d only gone as long as a month with a woman a couple of times. It was better that way.) Certainly no longer than that. Then he’d have found something for the young Twi’lek, letting her down gently and making sure she had something to get her started on the rest of her life.

After all, he’d have thought to himself, what she was offering him had been offered freely and was therefore his to take.

That was one of the lies people told themselves. But with age had come wisdom, and Errul liked to think he had given up lying to himself a long time ago.

“How old are you, kid?”

The words came from his lips abruptly. Rhi’khi looked confused for a moment, then worried, as if she thought she had done something wrong, and might be punished for it. She withdrew her hand.

“I…. nineteen, I think.” She said with uncertainty.

Nineteen. Shavit. He was more than twenty years her senior. Force. He’d lived too blasted long.

“Hold on a second, okay?” he offered.

Errul rose from his seat and walked to the far corner of the galley, right next to the washer. He opened the small cabinet above, being careful to block Rhi’khi’s vision of what he was doing. (He didn’t have any reason to distrust the Twi’lek, but he hadn’t survived this long by being careless.) He removed the panel at the back of the cabinet, revealing a hidden biometric safe box. The Zabrak pressed his hand to bio-scanner, then entered a code into the keypad. The safe popped open.

There were a number of trinkets located within, some appearing to be mundane while others would have caught the eye of any professional treasure hunter. Errul ignored the rest and took the one object he had sought. Then he closed the safe, putting the fake panel back in place.

Errul turned back to Rhi’khi, setting the item down on the table. It was a small metallic cube, with ornate engravings etched on all six sides.

“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt you. Promise.” He gave her a soft smile. “Go ahead and touch it.”

Rhi’khi tentatively reached out and lightly brushed the foreign object with her fingertips.

After about a second, the cube suddenly lit up with the engravings emanating a blue light. A small holoprojection then materialized above it, revealing a Cathar woman wearing long robes.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The projection spoke in an accent that was provincial, but the voice was clear and nevertheless confident. “And these are my teachings.”

Rhi’khi cried out in alarm, withdrawing her hand from the cube. All on its own, the object went flying off the table and through the air, ricocheting off the ship’s bulkhead before coming to a rest on the floor. The Twi’lek, plainly rattled, pulled her knees up to her chest, staring down at it in fear.

Errul just chuckled nonchalantly.

“Sorry about that. I had to be sure, and this saved me a lot of time.” The smuggler reached down and picked up the cube, setting it back on the table. It was undamaged from Rhi’khi’s inadvertent outburst, which he took a relief in. Errul knew it was nearly three hundred years old. “Like I said, this won’t harm you.” He regarded her with a satisfied expression, having been proven right. “I figured as much about you, when I saw you talk that Gamorrean out of ‘enjoying’ the company of your Nautolan friend back at Donje’s club.”

“What… what was that?” Rhi’khi asked nervously, still staring at the cube.

“This? This is a Jedi Holocron.” Errul tapped it, nonchalantly. “I’ve been hanging onto it for a while, mostly for occasions like this.”

The Twi’lek swallowed, starting to regain her composure.

“I don’t understand.”

“Hmmm.” Errul regarded her, debating how to continue. “Have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“I… yes.” Rhi’khi stammered. “My master… Donje, I mean… sometimes ranted about them. He called them ‘meddlesome Republic fools’. And he said that they fought the Sith.” She paused. “I think he was a little frightened of them.”

The Zabrak just nodded.

“Not without cause. Jedi and Hutts don’t really see eye to eye on much.” Errul sat down across from her, stretching his arms. “Jedi are… well, peace-keepers, you might say. When things are going alright for the Republic, they’re like diplomats. They go around resolving conflicts and helping to uphold the law. They’re pretty… noble, I guess. They’ve helped a lot of people when no one else could. Not as many as you’d hope, but a lot.” He chewed that over. “Of course, these days, they’ve been at war with the Sith Empire, even when they’ve had that sham of a peace treaty. So it’s been tough going these last few decades. They’ve got a lot of rules they have to follow, and they can be very pretentious. These days, they have to defend the citizens of the galaxy, uphold their own lofty principles and beat the Sith all at the same time. No one is going to succeed at that. But to their credit, they keep trying.”

“Having said that…” he continued. “I can honestly say that they do the best they can in a crazy galaxy.” Errul paused at a bygone memory, his voice taking a more conciliatory tone, then looked the Twi’lek directly in the eye.

“You’re Force-sensitive, kid.”

Rhi’khi just blinked.

“The… Force?” she asked in confusion.

“Yeah.” The old smuggler settled into his seat. “It’s like this… invisible energy field created by all living things. It binds the galaxy together, or so the Jedi say. And some special people – like the Jedi and the Sith – can manipulate it; it gives them power.”

“You have that power. You’ve been able to talk people out of doing things before, haven’t you? Maybe not Donje or other Hutts, but others, right?”

Rhi’khi nodded nervously.

“Right. Basically, Rhi’khi, it means you have the chance to become a Jedi.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Or a Sith.” He added dourly. “If you like, I can introduce you to someone on Carrick Station, and, if you decide it’s what you want, they’ll test you to confirm what I just told you. The Jedi usually recruit kids young, but they’re less discerning these days. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I’m confident they’ll take you in and teach you how to become a Jedi.”

Errul paused here for effect.

“But I won’t do that if that’s not what you want.”

The Twi’lek stared down at the table.

“I don’t know what I want.” She whispered quietly.

The Zabrak nodded. No surprise, there. Rhi’khi had probably never been given the chance to think about what she wanted.

“Well, I think you’re in shock, kiddo. A lot of stuff is happening to you very quickly. I wish things were different, but here we are.” He gave her what he hoped was a comforting look. “Not everybody can quite get over the things life throws at them. And you’ve had way more thrown at you in the last few hours than a lot of people will experience in a lifetime.”

“But… if you can let go of it – what with growing up a slave, everything that’s happened to you, everything that was done to you – then maybe, just maybe, this is for you. And maybe, maybe, maybe someday you can help some other little girl from having to grow the way you did.”

The Zabrak considered what he had said. She deserved the truth. All of it.

“No promises, though.” He added firmly. “Even at their best, before the Empire came back, the Jedi couldn’t stop the Hutts from trading in slaves entirely. The best they could claim to accomplish was keeping the slugs in check. And like I’ve said, the Jedi aren’t at their strongest right now. It’s a dangerous life, what with the Empire hanging around.”

Rhi’khi seemed to chew that over for a long moment. Despite his reputation for being a fast-talker, Errul was actually quite comfortable with long silences, and gave her all the time she needed.

“What if I can’t do that?” she finally whispered.

He understood. Rhi’khi might seem meek and innocent at the moment, but Errul couldn’t imagine anyone going through her life without building up a sense of indignation, and scars on her soul that ran deep. If she were aware of that, then she was wiser than she let on.

“If the anger and resentment are too much, well, odds are you’ll become a slave again. Except not a slave to another Hutt, but a slave to your own anger. And to your past. I’ve seen it happen with others who’ve been through the kinds of things you have, even the ones who weren’t Force sensitive. They just… can’t be free of it. They can’t be free of what they’ve gone through. Even with otherwise good people, it eats away at them, over time, and it never ends well.”

The Zabrak looked away, not wanting the Twi’lek to see the look on his face just now. He was speaking from experience, but that experience wasn’t something he was ready to share.

“And then a lot of them wind up doing to others what was done to them.” Errul continued, speaking from experience. “They all have justifications, of course. Little lies they tell themselves. ‘Oh, the galaxy owes me this’ or ‘these people deserve what I’m doing to them because their ancestors killed my ancestors’. It’s all a load of druk.”

“People hurt other people because they can’t let go.”

Trusting himself now, Errul took a breath and turned back at Rhi’khi, giving her a hard look in the eye. She was still watching him closely.

“The ones who do that who are Force-sensitive? We call those Sith.”

The girl shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself.

His expression softened at the sight. He’d given her the ice bucket of water to the face. The least he could do was offer her a towel.

“But… if neither of those choices appeal to you, the guy who runs the cantina on Carrick Station owes me a favor. He’s a tough boss, and the pay isn’t that much, but he treats his waitresses right. He doesn’t put up with any flyboys like me messing with them, y’know? I could set you up. You could work for him for a while, just serving drinks and finding your feet, until you found something better.”

“As for this ‘Force’ business… well, maybe it will let you just live your life.“

“I promise I’m not going to make you choose anything. I’m just telling you what I can do to help you, since you look like you need it.”

Rhi’khi was looking up at him again. She probably didn’t completely understand everything he had said, but she seemed comforted by his words nonetheless. Maybe she liked having a third option, or maybe she just liked listening to his voice. That didn’t really matter right now.

“Well. I’ve just dropped a barrel of Hutt manure on you, kid. I’m sorry to do it like this, but I find it’s for the best in the long run.”

Errul polished off the last of his blue milk, then cleared the table. He put everything away in the washer, set the machine to run, then turned to her again.

“I don’t pretend to know what’s best for you. But I’ll give you as much time as I can to think all this over.”

He moved to stand, only for Rhi’khi to reach for his hand again.

“Captain, wait.” She suddenly interrupted.

Errul noted she didn’t need to stop and start again to remember to call him ‘Captain’ and not ‘Master’. He smiled at her progress and stopped, sitting back down.

“How… how do you know all of this?” she asked. “If you are just a ship captain, how do you know about the Force, and me, and… why do you have this?” she looked at the holocron again.

The Zabrak slowly grinned. She was a sharp one. Most people struggled to use their intelligence in tight spots; when you’re threatened and focused on simple survival, it was hard to think things through. He’d seen enough of that in the refugee camps growing up. But if you offer folks just a little security and comfort, a little breathing room, sometimes they could surprise you with what they could come up. Rhi’khi may have been under-educated and naïve, but he was suddenly confidant that whatever path she took, she’d figure things out, in time.

“Well, let’s just say that once upon a time, a Jedi helped me out of a jam.” He answered wistfully. “They took the time to tell me about a couple of things. As for why I have the holocron… well, it just sort of fell into my lap during a little misadventure on Dantooine this one time, years ago. It’s no good to me personally; I’m not Force-sensitive. But it’ll make a useful bargaining chip if I’m ever in a tight spot… or for confirming cases like yours.”

The Twi’lek took that in and released his hand, thinking.

A chime sounded throughout the ship, and Errul cocked his head.

“I’ve gotta get that. We’re ready to jump into hyperspace.”

With that, Errul stood up. Rhi’khi turned and stared down at the holocron, lost in thought. The Zabrak made for the door and then stopped, turning just enough to speak to her over his shoulder.

“Just remember: Whatever you choose, that’s your choice, and yours alone. That’s the hardest lesson of freedom. What’s happened to you up until now was someone else’s doing. What you do after this is yours.”

As Errul stepped out of the galley and prepared to head back to the cockpit, he hung back for a second out of view around the corner, watching the young Twi’lek mull over her future. He certainly didn’t envy her the choice before her, but he needed to make sure she was okay to be alone right now.

Slowly, tentatively, Rhi’kih reached for the holocron. As she touched it, the little holo-image – the ‘Gatekeeper’ – once again materialized.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The Jedi started again. “And these are my teachings…”

Errul observed as Rhi’khi watched the projection, a look of fascination coming across her features. As she listened to the words of the long-dead Jedi, she seemed to Errul to become more relaxed, a small smile coming to her lips. A natural, organic smile – not the coy put-on she’d shown him earlier.

The Zabrak turned away. He didn’t pretend to know his own destiny any more than he knew Rhi’khi’s, but maybe both of them were about to take the next step on their respective paths.

Errul sighed again as he sat down in the chair of his cockpit, finally pulling the lever and triggering the jump into hyperspace. The stars outside the cockpit canopy shifted as the Horn made it’s jump, as the galaxy seemed to bend around the trusty old freighter. It was a welcome sight. No matter how many times he saw it, it always relaxed him.

This had already been too much philosophy for him in one day. He decided to blame it all on that Reactor Core he’d had at the cantina before he left Nar Shaddaa. That Rodian bartender was a good listener, but he always put too much spice liquor in his concoctions, and no doubt that was making Errul sentimental. It made him reflect back on what he’d thought to himself earlier.

If it wasn’t ‘this life’ that would be the death of him someday, then it would be sentimentality. He didn’t doubt it for one minute.

He thought back to Rhi’kih listening to that holocron in the galley.

“Yeah, barely breaking even.” He whispered with a smile. He shook his head. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.” He grumbled.

END

****************************************

Author’s Notes: I’ve never written about Errul before, but he’s my oldest ‘active’ O.C., as I developed him way back when I was on Free-to-Play. I eventually abandoned his game play, as in my mind, I don’t see him as an ‘Outlander’ type figure. But I keep him around. I saw some talk on Tumblr complaining about the player’s tendency to make our O.C.s on the young side. Errul, in my head-canon anyway, is a smuggler on the wrong side of forty.

People do change. They learn and they grow and they don’t stop doing that the moment they turn into an ‘adult’. (Which is totally a made-up word anyway.) True, the changes aren’t always for the better, but they do come. How you feel about things twenty years from now may be very different than how you feel about things now. That doesn’t make your opinions any less valid; it just means that they don’t define who you are.

Juhani is here just because I like Easter Eggs.

The character of Rhi’khi is inspired by a Twi’lek slave in Nar Shaddaa who was planning to escape with a smuggler in a bit of ambient dialogue within the actual game.

I remember reading an article about people who defected from North Korea, and the immense challenges they faced adapting to the modern world. Even given assistance by South Korea and other countries, most of them have no practical job skills and an education that was incomplete to say the least. It was very sobering.

Oh – and spoilers – Rhi’khi ‘grows up’ to be the Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order in this iteration. The first lesson there is you never know what the person you help might go on to do. The second lesson is don’t worry if you feel you’re getting a late start on pursuing your life goals. Honestly, it is not a race. It never was.

Good luck, and may the Force be with you.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #oc: errul marsh #oc: rhi'khi #zabrak #twi'lek #smuggler #jedi counselor #juhani #kotor callback

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wizardessheart-sideb · 4 years

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My WH Story & Feelings on it Ending

TW: abuse, depression, y’all know my trauma by now

With the discontinuation of Wizardess, I've been thinking a lot about this game and what it means to me, but it's been hard to articulate it for a number of reasons. But reading them congratulating us on graduating from the Academy has put me into motion. So here's my WH story and lots of mushiness. I started playing Wizardess during the summer of 2017. I'd already completed a year at my four-year uni. I didn't really have any friends there. I had one friend and man that was about to GO BAD. I'd discovered dating sims a few months prior with Mystic Messenger, so I got into playing more dating sims. My first SWD game was actually Ninja Assassin, and then I played Blood in Roses. I kept seeing ads for Wizardess and like a lot of players, I thought it looked like a dumb Harry Potter rip-off. Which I don't know why considering I knew Ninja Assassin and BiR were really good, but whatever. So I downloaded WH on a whim and honestly, it took me a while to get into the game. I still didn't really know how otome games worked and stuff. I chose Yukiya as my first route and as soon as the mystery kicked in, I was completely hooked. This game quickly took over my life. Where Fire Emblem had been my biggest comfort, Wizardess overtook everything for me. And thank God it did. I never had had that many issues with school. I've had depression since I was little, but school had never been a source of stress for me. The year before I started college, that changed. I can pinpoint the moment my mental health took a turn for the worse, and that happening right before I started community college was bad. I was lucky to go to a really good community college with great teachers and my friends went too, so I still had my friends with me. It wasn't until I moved to the LA area that school started impacting my mental health. When I was younger, I get depression in waves. Sometimes it'd be bad, sometimes it felt like it wasn't even there. But as soon as I got into college, it was there constantly and I felt it hard in LA. And after a stressful first year and then a horrible second semester, I had to return home to the place I absolutely hated and even worse, I felt unsafe at home. I was born in a city up in northern California, but I moved to a small town when I was 10. My mom and I moved in with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. The thing about this small town is that a lot of families are similar and so like. My older cousin had friends who had younger siblings that were the same age as me and my other cousin, so we were alll friends. Growing up and being beaten by older cousin, it was normalized bc my friends were going through the same thing. I thought being beaten up by someone I considered an older brother was totally normal. It was only until I got into the LA area did I realize "holy shit that's abuse I was ABUSED?!?!?!" because I'd laugh when I talked about how badly I used to get beaten and classmates were horrified at what I was saying instead of my friends from the small town who'd usually laugh with me and then tell me about the time their brother pushed them off the roof of their house. I already hated the small town I'd grown up in, but now I didn't feel safe. Although he hadn't hit me in years, I'm always scared one day my cousin's going to snap and start the cycle of abuse over again. Wizardess was a huge escape for me. I could just read it and get lost in Gedonelune and forget that I was in an unsafe situation and how sad I was. I'd just lay in bed and read for hours. I started making friends through the fandom and I wasn't platonically lonely anymore. And the game supplied the romance I know I'll never get to experience in real life. This game has given me so much comfort and been my rock for so many years. It's been one of the few good things in my life and when I'm sad (which is like all the time lmao), I can just go to Gedonelune and escape everything for hours. I returned to school and things friendship-wise were looking up. I made more irl friends and I FINALLY got good roommates in my dorm. School was still taking a toll on my mental health and depression made it hard to get to class because I had no energy to get out of bed even though I wanted to and my mind was screaming at me to get up. Wizardess was still a comfort but I was also having more light-hearted fun with it. Over time, Wizardess has evolved and instead of it just being my rock, I can appreciate it for other things. As it came to light how problematic Rowling was, I could appreciate that although the rep wasn't perfect, Wizardess included wlw rep and did the best they could. It didn't feel like they did it for woke points like someone, but it felt like a genuine move to try and include rep and I appreciate that. It really shouldn't surprise anyone Harry Potter was a huge huge HUGE thing to me as a child and ngl if I didn't have WH, it would've been a lot more painful to divorce myself from Harry Potter. And as I went through uni and saw that my uni didn't really care about its students from trying to ban students from speaking out against racism and disregarding school shooting threats. Hell, when my roommate Ariana and I stayed in our dorm room after the uni did a shitshow investigation of a shooting threat and refused to cancel classes, I played Wizardess like all day. Having a school in Gedonelune that actually CARED about students was a comfort. I fought tooth and nail against my classes and depression and I finished classes this last December. I now have my bachelors and this May, I would've had my graduation ceremony. Now, to be honest, I don't really care about doing graduation for my uni bc of all the bad experiences I had there and also not every member of my fam would've been able to go bc limited space and picking who gets to go is uh a nightmare. I had a small "graduation ceremony" with my family on zoom and my best friend Julia is planning on holding me another graduation ceremony in Animal Crossing. I am as much of a graduate of Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy as I am my irl uni. Wizardess has been with me for only a few years, but it's been a huge part of my life. And seeing the team congratulating us is bittersweet. It's sad that the WH team got let go without much warning (allegedly) and there will be no more new content, but the way I see it, the torch has been passed to us. So many of us are creating content for the fandom and our own events and routes. It's true, we're graduating from the Academy, but we'll always have a part of it inside us and now it's our turn to create and use the skills and knowledge we've learned from Wizardess.

#long post

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a-very-fond-farewell · 4 years

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The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 18/?

University AU: “Negative Space”

[ok so, self projection is a bitch, but I am petty to myself on a regular basis so it’s ok]

[title is from the Japanese concept “ma”, which Wikipedia describes as:

“a Japanese word which can be roughly translated as ‘gap’, ‘space’, ‘pause’ or ‘the space between two structural parts.’ In traditional Japanese arts and culture, ma is more carefully defined as the suggestion of an interval. It is best described as a consciousness of a sense of place, with the ‘intervals’ suggested often being more than simple gaps, instead focusing on the intention of a negative space in an art piece.

Ma is not necessarily an art concept created by compositional elements, such as the literal existence of a negative space. Instead, the intention is often to create the perception of an interval in the viewer experiencing the elements forming an art piece, making maless reliant on the existence of a gap, and more closely related to the perceived experience of a gap.

Ma has also been described as ‘an emptiness full of possibilities, like a promise yet to be fulfilled’, and as ‘the silence between the notes which make the music’.”

Fun fact: “ma” also means “but” in Italian, which is what usually follows whatever intrusive thought may plague my mind. Eg: “I may be useless now, BUT just you wait until I get some dopamine to get me through this shitty times.”]

Wei Ying never asked for much in his life. He’s content with cleaning classrooms and toilets and nobody can beat him at wiping the marble floors if he works hard enough. Granny Wen, his supervisor, is slightly impressed with his ability to make the wood shine for ages to come. His nephew Jin Ling sometimes comes to check on him when he’s done with senior classes or cram school in the evening, and together they sit down and listen to whatever his older friends in music production came up with during the day. Jiang Cheng occasionally would ask him to keep him company while he grades papers and they bitch about ZiXuan and his inability to dote on their sister. The cafeteria ladies are always nice to him and they give him extra congee because they worry for his questionable consumption of spice products.

He’s fine, really.

So why can’t he stop wandering over to the science building these days? Looking for a clean board to use, for an equation to finally solve? Even if in the end he just takes the chalk in hand and simply stares down at the inky surface in front of him, unable to write. His mind working on a software too advanced for the hardware that constitutes his brain.

Thirteen years. It has been already thirteen years and yet it feels like yesterday, or like it never happened at all. Like it has yet to be. Time blindness is a bitch to deal with, yet dyscalculia and ADHD makes a joke out of you when you love math on a visceral level... but you burned too bright too fast and now you function on no data and with an even shittier signal. Having a burnout at 23 should have taught him humility instead of pride, but Wei Ying has always worked out of spite and certain habits are difficult to forget.

Couldn’t put the number in the right order, switching digits left and right since he was young? Fine. Numbers were concepts anyway, entire civilizations working their magic without even knowing what “zero” stood for. A brain steaming with a million ideas per second? Good. New connections brimming with ideas he could use to better the world.

It worked fine until he let himself down. Until he became a useless empty lighter, a wet match tossed out, carbon monoxide in the air.

Dropped out before finishing his very ambitious, highly dangerous for his psyche, thesis project. Aunt Yu never forgave him for that, not after paying for his advanced classes, not after trusting Uncle Jiang and supporting him despite his many flaws. What good is being first of your class every year, poster child of a teaching system done right, graduating bachelor at 21, if you can’t finish your master at 23 and get your PhD at 25 and start teaching by 27 and drive yourself insane in the process?

Wei Ying dropped out and didn’t finish his master, didn’t enroll in the teaching program, and let everyone down. His Uncle and Aunt looking down on him, whether out of pity or shame. Jiang Cheng may have been the one leaving him behind, but he used to be the one saying “you should have tried harder”. YanLi worrying over him when she should have focused on her career first. Jin Ling growing up with stories of his uncle “not being worth the money put into his education”, taught to not disappoint and make his family proud. The Jin side, that is.

And now the kid comes crawling in defeat to him instead of Jiang Cheng after bombing a test in high school. And they chat of what he would like to do and how much he likes sports and how much he despises the idea of getting a scholarship for that and being called stupid or something by his classmates. And he cries when he thinks Wei Ying cannot see him as he leaves the campus late at night.

Wei Ying didn’t even want to solve that impossible theorem he fixated on in his early twenties. His thesis project was inconsequential in the great scheme of things and his professor only wanted him to be his one trick pony in the end. No. Wei Ying wanted to teach math in elementary school, hell... even in kindergarten. He wanted to change the approach to the subject. Because numbers cannot be taught like language is and there are many ways to teach how to sum up digits and divide quantities and there are no rules on how to make sense of space either.

But how can he teach when even time eludes his senses?

Something that nobody can define, but certainly most perceive as linear... but not him. Not since his brain fried up in his attempt to function like a normal human being.

After thirteen years nothing has changed.

Until one day he hears something else aside from his usual intrusive thoughts and burdensome memories. A melody so quiet he almost mistakes it for the wind, coming from the music building.

He walks slowly, night surrounding him like the embrace of a friend as he makes his way to the traditional musical instruments room. The one where Jin Ling’s friends meet sometimes as they wait for the younger boy to join them. Wei Ying holds his breath as he spies through the gap of the door left ajar, neon light slicing his face like moonbeams as he peeks in and recognizes Jin Ling’s friends and another figure sitting on the ground, guqin on their knees.

But before he can lean in and breathe in the vibrant sounds all around, the door opens and music theory Professor Lan finds Wei Ying clutching his mop for dear life.

They said the man could see colors within the notes, that he despises language outside of his class or office and that only his brother, the history of art TA, could convince him to talk every now and then.

If numbers were created to measure space, Wei Ying firmly believed music had been invented to make sense of time and count its seconds in rhythm and notes, pauses and beats. Yet, time seems to stretch to a stop as the janitor focuses all of his attention on professor Lan’s stern face and his heart quickens its pace.

Wei Ying takes a rushed breath and dives right in with a weird sense of hope pumping in his veins. A small, timid voice whispering that life is not made to be atoned, but to move on and grow.

One step at a time.

“I’m Wei Ying, Professor Lan. May I listen while you play?”

Yes, maybe it will be enough just to let time flow at its pace.

Whatever rhythm that may be.

[some hcs down below]

WWX does not magically solve the math theorem. he may or may not help kids figure out how to use numbers on the long run tho. no, he will still work as a janitor and there’s nothing wrong with that.

yes, LWJ is autistic and stimms and finds WWX’s honesty soothing. yes, you can add your hcs on the matter. he has synesthesia, but more on the grapheme-color side of the deal than anything else and he sees certain letters/numbers/notes in different colors. people think he can see colors in music, but they misunderstood and thought he could recognize different hues while listening to music instead of reading it.

JC has grown since his uni years and doesn’t resent WWX anymore. he teaches astrophysics as a TA and doesn’t pressure his brother to pick his studies up anymore. WWX has mixed feelings about this: he feels he’s a lost cause, to the point not even his brother spurs him to best himself anymore, but he is grateful for the patience anyway.

LXC is the official LWJ translator of the campus along with their cousins SiZhui and JinGyi. he bonds with WWX and JC over how tired they are, seldom staring at flies roaming above them in the cafeteria bc none of them can even move. he lives on caffeine and regrets, but he’s getting better as he develops a love for his plant babies and tries to not let them die on a daily basis.

Wen Ning and Wen Qing are little overachievers and adrenaline junkies, hence their competitive streak on their way to their third master degree just for funsies. they scare people with how driven they are, but the juniors love them.

NMJ is the one to go to if you need to get away with murder, but JGY will actually be the one helping you dispose of the body. the fact that they both work in criminal law is somewhat both reassuring and disquieting. they hate each other and yet cannot stop hang out, they are close to 40 and need the rivalry to keep going anyway. nothing beats a good nemesis. not even sex. maybe.

NHS has failed his entrance exam to become a nurse too many times to count, but he is determined to see the end of it. even if he could potentially work in the family business, but he doesn’t know anything about managing an empire of bricks and he doesn’t care. if NMJ could run away, well, so can he.

MianMian is Wei Ying’s bestie and has the biggest crush on JGY’s sister A-Su the kindergarten teacher, but since they are childhood besties she doesn’t know how to approach her. she is Jin Ling’s idol and a certified boxer and refers to herself as a useless bisexual. Wei Ying boxes with her sometimes, she always win.

YanLi is an equestrian mum, but in the best way possible: she coaches children for shows and teaches them horses should be loved and feared equally and that if you want to shoot arrows from a running horse you should always, ALWAYS let go of the stirrups the moment the beast gets too unhinged to ride. JC fears her, WWX is only glad she didn’t train police dogs for a living.

ZiXuan actually loves his wife, but WWX and JC question his career choices and the fact that he’s a retired lawyer spending his family fortune while he’s a stay-at-home dad and does all the housework. WWX and JC believe he should give their sister a better life and work his ass off to deserve her, but he does make amazing rice cakes and keeps up with Jin Ling’s studies and is very supportive of his dreams.

A-Qing and Song Lan are siblings and sometimes bring JC food from the campus cafeteria where they both work at, while Xiao XingChen and his carer Xue Yang work with LXC for a project on accessibility for visually impaired visitors of the local museum. JC and LXC work to make Song Lan and Xiao XingChen fall for each other, but the youngsters are too protective to let them play matchmaker so easily.

[this is all for now. please, if you want, add your own headcanons!]

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs/au: modern #mdzs/au: uni #the forbidden crack! untamed prompts #nieyao #xicheng #wangxian

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the-trans-otter33 · 4 years

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Sanders Sides The Martian AU

Note: I used canon information from the original The Martian characters so jobs, education levels, and other facts could be accurate to the story. It will remain this way just for the sake of accuracy. All original character info can be found on The Martian Wikia and all credit is due to Author Andy Weir, creator of The Martian

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Introduction Post

JULY 7TH, YEAR 2035

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Roles:

Commander: Thomas Sanders

Doctor: Patton McManus

Pilot: [Major] Roman Cone

Computer Specialist: Logan Locke

Navigator: [Dr.] Remus Cone

Botanist: [Dr.] Virgil AsheFord

EVA Specialist: D. Dain Dechard

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Character Info.

April 24th, 1993, 42, Thomas Sanders- Thomas was the first to be chosen for the Ares III mission. He graduated with honors from the US Naval Academy with a Doctorate in oceanography. After the navy, he entered into CalTech's Division of Geological and Planetary Sciences before joining NASA and taking trips to the SpaceX Station. He takes a lot of time to speak at public gatherings and conferences, encouraging others to achieve their dreams as he did and living life to the fullest. Thomas has dedicated his recent months as Commander to making sure his team bonds and remains safe, oftentimes treating them like family or adopted sons. Thomas is NASA’s first openly gay commander and is proud of it and his 22 year long marriage with his husband, Daniel.

Appearance: Thomas Sanders is 5' 10" with a healthy body. He is not lean nor pudgy, being in a somewhat perfect balance in-between. Sanders wears a classic brown undercut with no ability to grow facial hair, much like Patton. His eye color is brown and he enjoys staying in old and new uniforms more than regular clothing.

January 15th, 2001, 34, Patton McManus- The youngest member of the 7 person crew on Ares III, Patton McManus is not someone to be trifled with, especially when it comes to his intelligence. Due to his young age, he finds himself underestimated a lot of the time, and not listened to. It was no surprise to him and his parents though when he got accepted into the Yale School of Medicine, receiving the Norma Bailey Berniker Prize, and his extensive training in Aerospace Medicine as a Captain in the United States Air Force Reserves. He joined NASA in 2029, increasing his training with a Masters Degree in Biomedical Science and was the second person chosen for the Ares III mission. Kind, caring, and generally just a sweetheart, Patton hopes to lighten all spirits on the mission and hopes to bond closely with everyone on board. Dr. McManus hopes that one day his 4-year-old son [from a past relationship] will follow his views on the world and grow up to help people just as his father does.

Appearance: Patton McManus is a soft healthy, 6' teddy bear. Dr. McManus is ginger, his hair always messy with untamed short curls. Freckles spot his face around his nose and under his eyes. He's a bit pudgy around the middle, having close to a dad bod [even though he has no kids]. He cannot grow any facial hair and wears round glasses with thick light blue frames, matching the color of his eyes. Patton tends to wear light-colored polo's and khaki's if he can but jeans work out just fine too. He is also almost always seen with a grey jacket tied around his waist or his neck resting on his shoulders.

June 4th, 1995, 40, Roman Cone- Roman was the third person to join the Ares III Crew, immediately getting along with Commander Sanders and Dr. McManus. Before joining the crew, Roman spent eleven years in the United States Air Force. Originally trained as a fighter pilot, Major Cone worked his way up to the USAF Test Pilot School. Continuing to keep up high marks and great performance he quickly gained respect from his peers and commanders. From a young age, he knew he was destined for NASA so he gained a bachelor of science in astronautical engineering at USAF Academy. At NASA he also became an MDV/MAV Specialist. Witty and outgoing, Roman enjoys taking up all the attention in the room, often doing dramatics to do so.

Appearance: Roman Cone is a sight to see, standing at 5' 9". He is more on the muscular side, though nothing near Dain's level of muscle mass. Major Cone is dirty blond, sporting a magnificent pompadour, never seen without it perfectly done, he has long sideburns that transition from blond to brown the more he grows them out. Roman tries not to let them grow into mutton chops but sometimes finds them there anyway. Surprisingly Roman enjoys sweatpants and baggy shirts more than anything fancy or dramatic. Roman's eyes are light green.

November 3rd, 1998, 36, Logan Locke- Logan graduated at the young age of 16, winning in NASA's largest hackathon a year later. Afterward, Logan moved onto MIT for dual undergraduate degrees in math and computer science. While starting graduate school, Mr. Locke started a private software company in the hopes of becoming a software engineer and CEO. Though his plans changed suddenly when he came into contact with a SpaceX executive who was impressed by his work. His decision to join NASA was later founded when she helped develop software that would later become an integral part of the Hermes operating system. With that knowledge of the Hermes, he wiggled his way into the Ares III crew, being the fourth one to join as the System operator and Reactor Technician. Logan found himself seemingly alone among the crew due to his introverted lifestyle along with his inability to "take a joke" [said by Roman after joke about MIT]. His emotionally repressive behavior got especially worse when Remus joined a few days after, mocking Logan for his OCD. These habits and behaviors seemed to only start getting better after meeting Ares III Botanist Virgil AsheFord, who shared some of these traits. Locke never includes his thoughts though when anyone bring up parents or family back home, no one knows why.

Appearance: Logan Locke is a lanky 5' 8" nerd. Wearing rectangle-shaped glasses with white half frames. Logan has thin cheekbones with a thick chin strap beard connected with a black goatee. His hair is slicked back but not as tightly nor as long as Dain's and without curls in the back. Logan's eyes are dark blue shade, often matching his professional outfits. Mr. Locke often wears button-down shirts or polos with a blue or black tie running below his belly button. he usually tucks his shirts into his pants, which are almost always jeans held up with an always new looking leather belt. he also wears what Roman calls "old man shoes" though he is quite proud of their permanent shininess. Logan actively chooses to not work out, instead, he just makes sure to eat as healthily as he can.

June 5th, 1995, 40, Remus Cone- Remus was the fifth person to be chosen for Ares III. Remus was invited to join the crew through NASA and the European Space Agency after being located in Germany for several years. Holding two master's degrees in chemistry and astrophysics. Remus has also earned a doctorate in chemistry from spending six months on Antarctica. Remus has published dozens of papers in international journals to pass time. Dr. Cone felt the need to assert himself with the family name after his brother Roman upstaged him constantly in college. Remus is fluent in French and German, often using those languages to swear when visiting his brother in the USA. Remus has a knack for being a trouble-maker around almost everyone he meets, making messes mostly on accident due to his childish clumsy nature. Dr. Cone is only found being serious when there's work to be done, the dedication to his job is one of the only things bonding him with the rest of the Ares III crew.

Appearance: Remus us a 5' 10" pure blond man. he is often found wearing unmatched clothing that some would call ugly af [but he likes it that way]. Sporting a low hanging man bun, his hair just might be the most yellow thing at NASA HQ and on the Hermes, but it's completely natural! To go along with his man bun, Remus has a majestically neat handlebar mustache. Remus resembles his older twin brother Roman a lot with his light blue eyes and wide chin. Baring a bigger nose than Roman though. He also cannot grow any other facial hair. Remus isn't as muscled as Roman, being a bit round in the middle but tries his hardest to remain interested in working out. Nowadays his interest is kept by working out with his gym buddy, Dain.

December 19th, 1999, 34, Virgil Asheford- Virgil had spent eleven months already working at NASA when he was chosen for Ares III. Originally attending the University of Chicago, Doctor AsheFord moved to Northwestern University to earn his Ph.D. in Plant Biology and Conservation with an emphasis on hydropedalogy and environmental engineering. When joining NASA, his work focused on hydrologic flow paths and sustainable water resources management within Earth's Critical Zone. Virgil spent the next two years in the peace Corps engineering sustainable agriculture and water irrigation systems for developing nations. Afterward, Virgil applied to the NASA Astronaut Candidate Program and was ultimately selected. Throughout his life Virgil has had a constant battle with his depression and anxiety, growing more introverted over time. His interest in Botany helped him through the battle he has fought so hard to win. Despite over complicating many different thoughts, solutions, and ideas, Virgil often finds the outcome satisfying and without flaw. Emotional repression from before and after his little sister's death made him hesitant to accept his part in Ares III until he met Computer Specialist Logan Locke, who also dealt with emotional repression. The two instantly bonded due to being different from the rest of the team as well as their inexplicable ability to fall into intensely deep existential crises.

Appearance: Virgil is a 5' 6" pale, thin man. He is healthily thin despite eating a lot [his fast metabolism runs in the family]. Virgil's hair was dyed crow-black before being selected for Ares III but is naturally brown in a Faux hawk style. Virgil usually has short stubble lining the bottom half of his face, never letting it grow longer than 1-2.5 millimeters long. Virgil regularly applies eye shadow around his eyes, earning him the nickname Plant Raccoon from Remus. AsheFord can always be seen wearing dark if-not-black clothing, unless in his NASA jumpsuit or his Ares III Mars EVA suit [he hates that it's mainly white and orange]. Virgil also wears many different types of boots, specifically requesting some from NASA for the Ares III trip to Mars. he takes extra time to make sure they are neat, clean, and shiny each morning, something he now does with Logan.

[Deceit] February 3rd, 1996, 39, D. [Dain] Dechard- The last member to join the Ares III crew, yet welcomed with open arms. Dechard often says little white lies to the crew and others around him to rile them up when he's bored and wants some action. He has a severe disliking towards his first name, so he tells people to call him Dain. The crew is always theorizing what his real name is. Dain was first brought into NASA by his father, a Rocket Engineer, and was immediately interesting in becoming an EVA Specialist so he could travel into space for Ares III. Before specializing in EVA, Dain had been a NASA Mathematician with an associate's degree, bachelor's degree, master's degree, and Ph.D. in Mathematics. From the age of 18 to 34, Dain was in College constantly to earn these degrees and never gained any friends because of it. Dain promised before leaving for the Ares III, that he’d keep in contact with his 9-year-old niece.

Appearance: Dain is a 6' 4" lean [ripped] gym rat. He's got slicked back ink-black hair with lines of grey coming in at his temples due to years of work and school. The back of his head is riddled with curls coming from the ends of strands. Sporting a lighter coal-black Van Dyke goatee [and quite proud of it too] he also has scars riddled across the side of his face from chin to forehead. More scars can be found throughout his body in an inconsistent pattern but suspiciously only on the right side of him. Dain's eyes are dark green and he tends to wear joggers and shorts along with skin-tight shirts. While his gym buddy has an ugly sense of fashion, Dain has no fashion sense whatsoever.

----------

Not-the-boys cast:

The administrator of NASA: Teddy [Theodore] Sanders [No relation to Commander Thomas Sanders]

Director of NASA Media Relations: Annie Montrose

Director of NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory: Bruce Ng

Head of Mars Operations: Venkat Kapoor

Flight Director for Ares III: Mitch Henderson

NASA Analyst/Satellite Coverage: Mindy Park

Physicist: Rich Purnell

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Feel free to request to be on the tag list and send asks about something you’re curious about within the story! Your asks will strive to be the main drive for the story!

#sanders sides #TheMartianAU #thomas sanders #Thomas is the only one with an unchanged last name #crazy right?#patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #intro post #future relationships #analogical

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midwestmontessori · 4 years

Text

Goodbye Midwest Montessori, Hello Montessori Like a Mother

You heard that right, Midwest Montessori is coming to an end. If you’re finding this post, perhaps you’ve followed along with my intermittent ramblings over the years, or perhaps I’ve remained an obscurity and you have no idea who I am. Either way, allow me to explain. (For those looking for the new website link without the fluff: Montessori Like a Mother)

Hi. I’m Amy. I’m a Montessori mom of two children, Charlotte (born 2013) and Simon (born 2015). I found Montessori when I was pregnant with Charlotte and completely immersed myself in it. Along with my husband James, we have raised both of our children with Montessori principles from birth. Of course there’s always a learning curve and we’ve changed things along the way, but we’ve more or less been a Montessori family from the start.

I started this blog as a way to share our Montessori life with all of you. I joined an online Montessori community on Facebook called Montessori 101 and I fell in love with sharing and being inspired by other families along the same journey. Midwest Montessori gave me space to share our Montessori life and perspective and I’m so thankful for the community I’ve connected with over the years, both on Facebook as well as on Instagram.

But my Montessori journey didn’t stop at being a Montessori parent. I loved it so incredibly much that I shifted my career path, little by little, until eventually Montessori took over completely (it has a way of doing that with people sometimes). First I shifted from high school education to early childhood and elementary. When that wasn’t enough of a change, I decided to take the leap and get Montessori teacher certification specifically. It has been a long, difficult journey, particularly for my AMAZING and supportive husband and children, but I DID IT!

In 2018, I graduated with my bachelors degree in Early Childhood and Elementary Education, completed my Montessori Primary Diploma program from Association Montessori Internationale, turned the big 3-0, and, though I’m not quite sure how, jumped aboard a HUGE project of creating an AMI Montessori 3-6 program from scratch!

That’s right, I single-handedly curated a brand new Montessori program - all the materials, all the furniture, all the classroom procedures and curriculum and whatnot - all while finishing two degrees, one of which was in another state! I’m certainly not saying this to brag, but man I was POOPED! My husband and children deserve medals for their patience and support during that time. I was out of the state for weeks at a time, over a two year period totaling nearly 6 months, and when I was home I was working my rear-end off student teaching, taking both day and night classes, and in the last year I spent most of my free time working on building a brand new school.

What I had dreamed would be an amazing new chapter in our families life, one where I was a lead guide in a local Montessori school start-up and my children attendees, proved to be too much for our little family. While my time in that magical school of mine remains near and dear to my heart, after over two years of total chaos, I stepped out of the classroom in order to dedicate myself to my family again, to focus on my roles as mother and wife.

What came next was even crazier than before! My husband got an opportunity for a new job in St. Louis - far from our lifetime home in Kansas. It happened so fast, within two months of finding the job we were moved. The past year has been a whirlwind of new school, new home, new city, new friends, new commutes, new jobs, new everything. It hasn’t been easy, but slowly we are finding a new normal - a new, more stable normal, which is just what we all have needed.

The next part is something that I’ve dreamed about for years. I’ve dreamt about it, thought about it, talked about it, and talked about it some more. Everyone I’ve met along this journey - my college professors, my Montessori trainers, my family, my friends, my classmates, my colleagues, my acquaintances - they’ve all heard me talk an earful about my dreams for the future of Montessori Parenting.

See, I believe Montessori is a way of living. It isn’t just something we find in specialized classrooms and private schools. It isn’t something we find merely in Dr. Montessori’s curriculum, or our precious teaching albums. No, Montessori is so, so much more than that. It is about supporting the growth and development of the child. And who better to support that than the child’s own family - his own parents? Montessori families will change the world, I just know it. I believe it.

And I care so deeply to bring this beautiful, wonderful way of life to as many as desire to know it - not just from my own personal family’s experience but from an empowered place that goes beyond me or my family. I want to help families learn how to “Montessori like a Mother,” that is, to “do Montessori at home with their family in the way that any mother does, with her heart and soul and perhaps a bit of sass, if you’re anything like me.

Together, we can make the world a better place, through the work we do in our own homes, with our own families, and within ourselves. Dr. Montessori had it right when she said that the hope and promise of mankind was in the hands of the child. And whose hands are there holding that child? Ours. It is us parents of the world, or those of us who stand in as a parent for a child in whatever form that may be - biological parent, step-parent, foster-parent, adoptive-parent, guardian, grandparent, aunt, uncle, caregiver, nanny, day-care provider, teacher, neighbor, coach, counselor, leader. Parenting, or mothering, isn’t something reserved for mothers. We are all mothers. And may we all Montessori Like a Mother.

And so I announce my new website, where I will be writing and sharing empowering and encouraging messages for Montessori parents of all kinds. Montessori Like a Mother is launching soon. Visit the website now to get on the email list to be the first to see the new site. I’m working hard during this global pandemic situation to build a place where parents can feel uplifted, empowered, and supported in their parenting journey. I hope you’ll follow along with me. Thank you for your support.

For the record, Charlotte & Simon will still be seen here and there on the new website, as well as in my Instagram stories and perhaps an occasional post, as they choose to be featured (and James too). They are and always will be my greatest source of joy and my top priority, which also includes their privacy preferences as they age. I appreciate their support so very much.

#Montessori #montessoriathome #montessorilikeamother #montessoriparenting #parenting

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ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years

Note

For the arranged marriage sentence starter!!! Zelink pls >.

(((You read my mind! I like how it said sentence starter but I put it near the end.)))

Original Post

The maids had finally left after nearly an hour.

A treacherous hour filled tothe brim with tugging at her knotted corset and plucking thousands of pins fromZelda’s hair. Giggling handmaidens had flitted about the room, readying the bedsheets and whispering in the corners where they thought the High Princess couldnot hear… but she could. She always could. Sometimes it occurred to Zeldathat she could be a phenomenal theater actor with the method acting she pulledeach day - pretending her deafness was more potent than it truly was.

Nevertheless, tonight wasaltogether different. This time, their hushed whispers were keenly about thebed and the exercises that were assumed to happen later in the night. “Weddingnight” flung around the space like children who just learned a new swear word.It stuck to Zelda and itched into her like sand paper. And now that those womenwere gone, the absence was a lingering threat.

The master quarters hadn’t been occupied in five years. Not since theking passed, leaving Zelda for the throne. All the while, she avoided the room howevershe could and it wasn’t hard due to it being within the tallest tower thecastle had to offer. The lack of life seemed to imbed her reasons of avoidancedeeper. The walls crawled too high, leaving a darkness that escaped any candle’slight. Zelda was unnerved.

Right when she was about to hum a tune to drown out her nerves,the hinges creaked. The princess jumped in her place before the dressing mirrorto watch the doors open. A sweating, nervous mess wasn’t the vision she hadseen herself as when she was a daydreaming child. This was supposed to be thebest day of her life, right? Then again, she didn’t know she would be wedded toa man she had met only week prior. And to think the council had waited to alarmher of this a fortnight before that!

The man wasn’t even as nauseating as she wanted him to be. Gods,Zelda wanted to hate him for merely existing when she heard the news that theHigh Council wished to marry her off. His name was Link, the son of the Duke ofFaron. Zelda prided herself for remembering the names of those she may encounterat dinners or parties, so it had surprised her when she couldn’t recall his.

Link idled by the doorway for a long moment, surveying the room asif apprehensive of stepping into it. Then, his eyes met hers and he bristled. “I… I apologize, I didn’t knowyou were here already.”

His speech was formal and Zelda could tell he was playing up anaccent to cover his natural tone of voice. It wasn’t exaggerated at all, butshe could read through the cracks of his lifted vowels. She wanted to reach outand quell his worries, feeling both alarmed and pitied by his presence.Instead, all she could do is swallow thickly.

“It’s your quarters too,” she managed to sputter out pathetically.The words were flat and lame, Link held her gaze for a beat before coughing awkwardly.

“Oh.”

Zelda tried to make use of her time in the mirror by staring atherself, hoping to look busy as he made his way inside. Link was observant,perhaps doing the same as she was; instead opting for pretending to be interestedin the carvings on the crown molding. For whatever reason, it made her feelworse.

Eventually, she found a stray pin buried deep within her hair thatthat young maid had missed and the last of her hair was freed. Her scalp couldfinally breathe. The princess stood, turning to meet her spouse who stood atthe opposite wall. A deep flush crept up her neck when she realized the onlymaterial she wore was her white slip. Zelda looked alarmingly at Link, who hadopted for interest in the ceiling instead with his black suit jacked tuckedunder his arm. The ceiling that was too dark to really see.

Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she brought her arms up tofold before herself. She was his wife for Hylia’s sake!

Link broke the silence as he slipped into the hallway that led tothe toilet and closet, “Excuse me.”

Just as the redness reached Zelda’s cheeks, her feet paddedagainst the cold hard wood floors to meet the covers on the grandiose bed. Thiswas far worse than anything she could have expected. The silence was horrifyingand the princess could probably die from the unbearable exchanges. Tears burnedin her eyes as she pressed her palms to her face, trying to calm herself. Impawas wrong, she couldn’t take a lifetime of this.

Evidently, the Duke of Faron’s son was just as elusive to gossipas he was to her because after hours of prodding at her staff, they could onlytell her a couple of things about him. His distaste for politics was so deepthat he enlisted into the Royal Army after coming of age to avoid falling intohis father’s place. The Duke was so ashamed that he hadn’t bothered to bring uphis son anyone for years. That is, until the High Council had taken up thesearch for eligible bachelors. It didn’t take long to find his record. In theend, his effectivity in the military worked against him and his past had caughtup.

Link looked just as lost as she at the Temple of Time thatafternoon.

It didn’t matter anymore. They were married. The matching bandaround their fingers proved it. All that was needed was the extra step and thepreparations for their coronation would be put into motion. Trying to disappearin the mountain of pillows, Zelda watched him drag a pile of quilts. Her browcreased, didn’t they have enough? His dress shirt was untucked now, theprincess took note. He knew as well. Link had to. The entire kingdom was waitingfor the news of royal consummation.

She felt queasy thinking about it.

Then, her husband dropped the quilts of the floor beside the bed.

Zelda stared.

He began spreading the sheets out along the cold floor beforefinding her eyes on his. Zelda decided harshly that he was the opposite of nauseatingeven when he was crouched on the floor with his shirt undone.

She found her voice, “What are you doing?”

Link sheepish, his hand squeezing the back of his neck.

“Well… I…uhh… I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in thesame bed just yet.”

In that moment, Zelda’s eyebrows seemed to scrape thehighest reach of her forehead in realization. He was making a bed. On thefloor.

The princess almost collapsed in relief. Her reaction seemedto tickle him because he laughed. It was soft and small. Almost pleasantagainst the previous unnerving happenings between them.

“I suppose it is rather early to do so,” she breathed out.She reciprocated his smile as she watched his shoulders loosen. His voice wasfull of jester, “I agree very much.”

He let his words slip into a drawl that sounded more relaxedand it let her wonder about his whereabouts as she watched his from the tallbed. As the light faded in the room, she also briefly played with the notionthat the marriage would be more livable than she had previously thought.

#this ended up being longer than 500 words but i said fuck it half way through #thanks anon! ily #fanfiction #zelink #loz #legend of zelda #Anonymous

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obsidiancorner · 5 years

Text

Celebrity Overnight- Chapter 2

ObiYukiWeek 2019 Pairing: Obi/Shirayuki Word count: ~2500 Prompt: Gluttony

Shirayuki follows two steps behind Obi as they walk up the stairs to his apartment. Everything about the decor of the building is carefully neutral. The walls are a soft eggshell white in the pale light of specialty light bulbs and fixtures. The grayish early-American style stain on the wooden wall trim and matching stairs feels timeless.

She feels anxious, like a nervous energy is simmering just below her skin and banking, only in part, by the solace she takes in knowing Obi has been the very definition of ‘a perfect gentleman’ over the course of the evening. She had been so eager to get out of the limo, which had felt smothering after the heat of their red carpet performance had been followed with a glance into what Obi might be like in bed thanks to the obligatory sex scene of the movie.

Even the knowledge of how the film industry works, knowing that the director had literally been involved with every touch, every kiss, every angle, and every thrust, hadn’t broken the spell of her heated fascination. Then, she’d had to endure a limo ride while she radiated tension. He’d given her space but his knee would bump hers every now and again and each time her fever surged higher.

When he had asked if she wanted to come up while he changed, she leaped at the opportunity to get out of the enclosed space. Distance. Distance would be good…. Except now she has to face being alone with him in his apartment… While she is trying to fight a one-sided fire.

Brilliant.

They stop in front of apartment 2D at the far end of the hall but, instead of pulling out keys for the lock, he raises a fist to the door and raps twice. Inside, a chair groans against a wood floor and three knocks answer, followed by the sound of a deadbolt being released.

Shirayuki’s heart sinks, sending ripples of despondent aching coursing through her. She’d expected something like this. She knew it was all publicity when she went into this date agreement and she curses herself internally. Men of his caliber are not men who are single and she knows better than to lose her head over some guy just because his charm is natural and unintentional.

Of course he has a secret girlfriend. Of course. Tonight was nothing more than free publicity for an upcoming action star and her father’s new movie. It had always been and still is nothing more than an act- par for the course for a Hollywood hot-shot. Natural chemistry means nothing in the grand scheme of life- especially lives consumed by the entertainment industry.

Hidden behind him where he couldn’t see her face, she allows the disappointment at both her forgetting the terms of their date and his evident unavailability. She wants to run, to admit this was a bad idea and just go back to her apartment to sulk with a tube of cookie dough and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra ice cream, her father’s afterparty be damned. Her heart stings, beating fast and angry against the confines of her ribs.

As the door opens, she feels the heat of a blush surge to her cheeks as she mentally prepares herself for an awkward encounter with a woman who is likely the stereotypical half-plastic Bunny... tall, blonde, legs up to her neck, and breast augmentation to some obviously unnatural degree- the sort of woman who usually serves as arm candy to Hollywood’s hottest hunks.

“Thanks, Ryu,” Obi says, startling her from her thoughts.

A non-committal hum replies before she hears, “I wasn’t expecting you home this early.” but the voice is surprisingly male. It’s youthful and awkward, cracking slightly at the beginning of the statement. Shirayuki peeks out from behind Obi’s arm and comes face to face with azure eyes as wide and deep as the waters of the Mediterranian Sea. She can’t help the squeak that comes out, startled as she is to find a teenager blinking back at her.

Delight surges through her when she realizes it isn’t last year’s Playboy Bunny of the Year but it is immediately tempered with a heavy splash of cold guilt when the boy’s eyes immediately turn down toward the floor. She hadn’t meant to startle him. She hadn’t expected a child at all, much less one that is so shy.

“Ryu, Shirayuki. Shirayuki, Ryu,” Obi says by way of introduction as he steps aside to usher her in and the boy ducks back into the apartment. He chuckles and Shirayuki looks up at him. Turning to face her fully, he whispers, “he’s shy and usually keeps to himself but he’s a good kid and a genius with special effects.”

As if that explains anything at all. Who in their right mind decided letting a child stay with Hollywood’s newly crowned ‘Most Eligible Bachelor’ was a good idea? Where are his parents? How did he come into Obi’s care?

Some of her puzzlement must show on her face, or maybe the gears of her brain are simply grinding too loud because he adds, “I’ll explain later if you want, Miss. But right now I’d just really like to change. This tux is constricting.”

Shirayuki scoffs. He should try wearing a dress sometime. This damnable number the stylists has squeezed her into may look quite fetching with it’s shimmery green fabric hugging her every curve, but she hasn’t taken a full breath in hours for fear of bursting a seam somewhere. She keeps her opinions on formalwear to herself and moves past him into the wide expanse of their living room before it dawns on her that he had successfully distracted her… again.

To her right is an impressive kitchen area covered in granite countertops and sleek wood cabinetry a few shades darker than what was present in the hall. Ryu sits at the six-seater dining room table with notepads spread out around his laptop as he studies a film she’s pretty sure was made by Wistaria Entertainment. Curious, she thinks. There’s a massive TV mounted on the wall in the living room and yet he prefers to study a film on his laptop.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” Obi says as he walks around her and disappears down the hall. She blinks at his receding back until he turns a corner and is obscured by a wall. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other as a means to occupy herself.

She feels awkward loitering just inside the door with nothing but a studious and shy teenager to keep her company. She satisfies herself looking out the sliding doors of the balcony at the far side of the room to where the lights of the city stand out like stars in the night despite all the lights in the room being on.

“Since he seems to be forgetting his manners, I’ll ask,” Ryu pipes up. His voice is almost a true monotone and she focuses on the back of his head as if it will illuminate how he must feel being left alone with some strange woman nearly a decade older than he. “Do you need to use the bathroom or want something to drink?”

“I’ll wait, but thank you for the offer… Ryu, wasn’t it?”

It isn’t without effort that she keeps her tone light and her voice steady. She doesn’t know how to do this. She was expecting awkwardness with whatever gorgeous woman is in his life, not awkwardness with a child Obi, for some inexplicable reason, has guardianship over.

He hums as a response, like he hadn’t quite heard her and is silently asking for her to repeat herself before he sighs and sets down his pen. He still doesn’t turn to her but mutters a soft “You’re welcome,” before picking his pen back up in anticipation of whatever is happening on his computer screen.

Tires squealing, glass shattering, and metal crunching on the screen in front of him is followed by rapid movement of his pen across the paper and makes Shirayuki curious so she inches closer. “What are you watching,” she asks, trying to at least keep conversation going until Obi comes back from the depths of the apartment.

“It’s an old movie about death. I’m studying the special effects used,” he tells her, pausing the film as a log from a semi-trailer impales a car. She recognizes the film. She was nearing the end of elementary school when it came out and she tries not to be offended by it being called ‘old’ since he was probably an infant back then. In terms of Hollywood and technology, it is old. He might as well be studying the Matrix in terms of age but at least the graphics in that movie were ahead of its time when it was released. Maybe he already had, though.

He presses play and she squints, turning her head sharply to avoid seeing the aftermath. She’s in medical school and can handle blood and trauma at a gross scale but that series of movies are all about the cringe factor and unnecessary, gratuitous gore. She opens her eyes to find Obi leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded across his torso. The amused smirk he wears makes his amber eyes smolder.

She’s trapped, like the mosquito in Jurassic Park. She knows she’s still breathing because she can feel the fabric of her dress stretch against deeper draws of air because suddenly there isn’t enough oxygen in the room, no matter how full her lungs get. It’s dizzying for a moment, until she manages to pull her eyes away from his.

She bites her lip as she drinks him in. He’s classically handsome in the white tee shirt hugging every curve of hard muscle on his chest and arms and the tailored almost-black blue jeans leave very little about him to the imagination. She definitely does not belong with a man who looks like that. She’s no Pier Angeli.

Damn, if he doesn’t wear ‘Rebel Without A Cause’ well.

She’s captivated, lost in Old-Hollywood bad-boy style that seems both true to himself and contrary to the outstanding gentleman he has proved himself to be over the course of this evening, until a shift of his hips breaks his casual lean and brings him to standing at his full height. Shirayuki is a woman who prides herself on not being one to swoon over an attractive man but Obi is making it quite the challenge as he saunters over to where she stands by Ryu.

The room feels too hot and her skin burns as though she has ben set on fire. She knows she’s blushing from her hairline to her toes. There’s an urge to hide, to turn away and walk out the door, but it doesn’t override her want.

Obi looks like a certified masterpiece. Even Michaelangelo’s ‘David’ sculpture can’t compare to him as he glides toward her, oozing confidence and sex appeal. “Ready to go,” he asks innocently, as if he hadn’t just watched her ogle every inch of him with a degree of shame that left her blushing but wasn’t quite enough to stop her. He grabs his black leather jacket from the coat rack tucked against the wall behind the dinner table and drapes it over his shoulder before turning back to wink at her.

Realization crashes over her. He’s putting on a show- he wants her to check him out and she played right into it. She gave him the exact reaction he was hoping for if the dangerous cant of his lips is any indication. Oh, he is a sneaky one.

He must realize he has been caught and he lets out an amused huff before turning his attention back to Ryu who, mercifully, hadn’t been paying attention to anything but his computer screen. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home, Ryu. You’ll be okay, right,” Obi asks as the second version of the car accident comes to a close and the teens realize they have successfully evaded death.

He doesn’t look up from where he is still scribbling notes. “I’ll be fine but I won’t wait up.”

“I’ll call or text to check in, okay,” Obi says, ruffling Ryu’s hair.

He never stops writing as he bats Obi’s hand away but he leaves his freshly mussed hair alone. “Have fun,” he says. He adds, “stay out of trouble,” as an afterthought and Obi laughs.

Obi gestures to head out as he grabs his keys off the hook on the wall and opens the door but she hangs back. “Good night, Ryu. It was nice to meet you.”

He actually stops what he’s doing, then, and turns in his chair to face her. There’s the smallest hint of a smile as he says “You, too, Miss Shirayuki. Goodnight.” His eyes are still lowered but she feels light, like his acknowledgement is his acceptance.

Since this publicity stunt will be an ongoing adventure, it is helpful that he likes her. Even though Obi has done a good enough job of sheltering Ryu from Hollywood press from what she can tell considering she’d never known about his underage roommate, it wouldn’t be believable if she didn’t get along with those in Obi’s circle of friends.

Obi closes the door behind them and twirls his keys around his finger as they begin the walk down the hall. “What’s with the keys,” Shirayuki asks as a means to fill the silence. Nothing has been awkward yet but she has no intention of finding out if quietness will breed discomfort and ruin what has otherwise been an evening that is memorable for good reasons. “Won’t they ruin your pant lines unnecessarily if we have a driver?”

“Why, Miss,” he says, lifting his hand to his chest to feign embarrassment but the near predatory tilt of his smile, white teeth bared and flashing in the dim light of the hall, reveals his amusement. He definitely saw her checking him out and has zero intention of letting her off the hook for it. “Are you so concerned with the silhouette of my pants?”

“Not personally. No,” she lies. Keys in his pocket would certainly detract from other views and that would be tragic. “I just figured you would be.”

That startles a laugh out of him. “You are something else, Miss,” he muses. “But I texted my driver and told him to go home to his wife and kids. I’m driving to night,” he adds with another wink.

The whole night has been an experiment in assumptions being dashed by better realities but hearing that he knows and has considerations for the personal details of the lives of the people he employs is heartwarming. Obi truly is a man of mystery and nothing like any actor she has ever met.

It is a crying shame that it will end in some sort of grandiose breakup after the movie hype has run its course.

#obiyukiweek19 #obi x shirayuki #celebrity overnight #modern au

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prettymuchdeadalready · 4 years

Text

100 Important Character Questions

Here’s looking at you kid, @wexarethewalkingxdead !! XD They’ll be below the cut due to length. {{ I despise ‘read mores’ except that it’s so fucking long! XD }}

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

taken from beth kinderman and nikki walker’s the 100 most important things to know about your character. a good list to help develop a character’s background, personality, and general aspects.

PART 1: THE BASICS

· What is your full name? :: Bobby Autumn Monroe

· Where and when were you born? :: Atlanta, Georgia at Grace Memorial at 4am on a Sunday.

· Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.) :: Maryann JoMarie Monroe (nee Tippins) and Franklin Roosevelt Monroe ;; mama was a stay at home mother who became an addict to opiates and papa was a worker at the mill in Powder Springs, which was a HUGE (in his mind because he always resented it) drive from where they lived on the outskirts of Atlanta in a little cabin home one a sparce patch of land just outside a trailer park beside the woods. Mama was a strong woman who grew weak after nears of being beaten and bloodied by her drunk mean husband; having 3 kids kept her strong to a degree, however, for as long as she could be, trying to keep his attention on her and away from her kids. When she died (Bobby who was the eldest of them by 15 minutes) that all changed; Michael trying to draw the majority of the brutality because he was the boy and his father always was trying to beat on the girls when given little to no reason at all, even.

· Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? :: Michael Henry Monroe and Katherine Emberlynn Monroe, in chronological order of birth after Bobby. Michael is an EMT on staff with New York Presbyterian Hospital, which is also Columbia University’s training hospital. Katherine is an aspiring actress in the LA area of California.

· Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. :: Bobby has never left Georgia. The only time she does is when the group moves on after season 4. She doesn’t know why she’s never left before, not even to visit her siblings that left her behind, but she always feels like, as the big sister, it’s her job to maintain a home for them to come back to, should they ever need it.

· What is your occupation? :: Bobby is an ER nurse with Grace Fulton Memorial Hospital and regularly assists with trauma cases.

· Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. :: Height is 5’4. (Smol but mighty!) Weight fluctuates from 115 to 120 pounds depending on the time of year and stressors in her life; okay, maybe 124, but not an ounce more! She swears. Bobby is Caucasian American. Hair is an auburn brunet. Eyes are chocolate brown; when she is angry they appear almost amber in tone, and when sexually aroused they usually darken to an almost black. Her fashion sense is usually tomboy, wearing jeans and tee shirts; sometimes a little sporty with tight running pants, spandex or loose shorts, and tank tops. Bobby only has one tattoo that transcends any and all verses she might have: a black rose with three drips of blood on the petals, one at the end nearly ready to drop off, at the small of her back which reminds her of the fragility of life and death and the ever presence of the latter, the pain and struggle symbolized by the blood droplets on the petals. She has a long scar that runs the length of the space between where the band on her bra would rest down to her love handle, on the edge where her side meets her back – given to her by an abusive ex that was just like her father when drunk, only worse because he was legitimately a highly functioning and violently brutal psychopath and burn marks on her upper back/right shoulder blade and left outer thigh from where her father and her ex had their fun using her as an ashtray.

· To which social class do you belong? :: Middle class. Working class.

· Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? :: Maryanne had carpal tunnel and severe arthritis in her left arm from it being broken a couple times by her lovely husband. After her mother died Bobby was cooking dinner one night and her father, who had been drinking all evening from end of work until right that moment, picked up his hammer and hit Bobby in the upper left arm twice, hard. She had to wear a cast for two months (part of that time an extension after being thrown against the wall another separate night that shattered the first incarnation of the cast) to heal the broken bone. Thus, sometimes when its too cold she has bouts where her left arm is weak, not able to carry heavy things, and there was minimal nerve damage in the hand as a result which means she can’t always feel too hot, or too cold. This does not impair her job as she isn’t responsible for surgery where the steadiest of hands are needed; thankfully Bobby’s aid in the field is at most a needle and thread for mending/stitches, of which she can do with her dominant hand.

· Are you right- or left-handed? :: Right handed.

· What does your voice sound like? :: Natalie Portman.

· What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? :: Y’all. Jesus Harold Christ on crooked crutches. Jiminy Christmas. Calm down there Satan.

· What do you have in your pockets? :: A pocket knife with combination of other fold out tools. Mini canister of mace. Car and house keys in some verses. Apocalypse verses she sometimes carries car keys.

· Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? :: Bobby doesn’t consider anything she does as strange or annoying but just ask one of the people she considers family and he would say she talks too damn much. At least the other man in her life appreciates that she knows how to turn out the lights…

PART 2: GROWING UP

· How would you describe your childhood in general? :: Stressful. Her days were constantly spent fearing what would happen when daddy got home, what mood would he be in, what would he do, would he just hurt mama or would he come after her and her siblings too…? Bobby grew up worrying about things no child should ever have to worry about or fear.

· What is your earliest memory? :: Bobby doesn’t know for sure if this is a memory or some part of her subconscious trying to bring her peace, but in the quiet moments when she closes her eyes she can hear her mother’s voice softly singing to her as she’s being held, cradled in safe arms with worn delicate hands gently rubbing her back. “Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn’t you love to love her…? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and…who will be her lover? All your life you’ve never seen a woman…taken by the wind…”

· How much schooling have you had? :: Bobby went through two years of high school before she was forced to drop out to care for her other siblings and make sure they got the best lives possible. It wasn’t perfect anyway, but she tried. She went back and got her GED when she turned 21. Immediately upon her father dying ( when she turned 19 ) she began putting some money away toward furthering her own education, enrolling in community college once her GED came through. She got a bachelor’s degree in science and biology, and earned certification and licensure as an EMT and trauma nurse.

· Did you enjoy school? :: Bobby loved school. It was the only thing she could do outside the house that was usually constant and unbreakable, a schedule that the state decided for children and one her father couldn’t stop. This was she could be free of the worries and fears that usually plagued her days and simultaneously learn things about the world at large, all around her and beyond. It was refreshing and awe inspiring.

· Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? :: Anything she didn’t learn from her mother and her father ( positive or not ) she learned from school and the teachers and children in that environment.

· While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. :: The only role model Bobby had growing up was her mother, Maryanne. Mama taught her the strength and the tenacity she needed to make it in the world, both in her father’s house, and later.

· While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? :: Bobby and her mother started as adult to child relationship and then at the end when her mother was dying Bobby became an almost equal to her mother, taking care of her and herself and the siblings she had. Likewise, with her siblings, it was mostly a jovial peer to peer relationship ( and what sibling relationship was complete without the occasional fight and attempted murder ), which eventually merged into a motherly feeling over them, protective of them when their mother passed. Her relationship with her father was always strained, always wary and tumultuous and it only worsened when Maryanne died. He became more possessive of the kids and Bobby feared being raped or sexually abused by him after a time ( she looked more like her mother than Kath did ) as he would get drunk and beat her, yelling things like ‘how dare you leave me’ and ‘I’ll show you something to cry about you weak whore.’ That relationship was strained and haunted until the day he died.

· As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? :: She wanted to be an astronaut or a pirate. Anything that could take her far far away from where she was and keep her safe, eventually far enough to make her happy in life.

· As a child, what were your favorite activities? :: Anything Bobby could do outside the house. She spent AGES outside in the woods, roaming with nowhere in her mind to go in particular; she could sit on a stump deep in the sea of green and just space out, let her mind wander for hours. She would try to fish. She made friends with small woodland creatures like something out of a Disney film. She sometimes sat alone out there all night, looking up into the moon under a blanket of stars and a bed made of fallen leaves and long grass.

· As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? :: As a child, Bobby was pretty devoid of personality; at least when she was at home. At home and when she was alone she was quiet, too quiet. A mousy brown haired brown eyed little girl with nothing to say and who would lay low on purpose, anything not to catch her father’s attention. Outside of the house she often put on a brave face, smiling and laughing and acting like nothing was wrong. Sometimes she could even forget that she was a victim of domestic violence and forget her usual invisible act, coming out of herself and being herself, talkative ( almost too much talking for some ) and bright. Her light shines bright from within her and her strength and perseverance really show in her eyes.

· As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? :: Bobby was not a popular kid at school. She often sat alone or with her siblings. Even the losers didn’t want to sit with them because everyone knew what the Monroe home life was like and who their father was, what he did to them and their mother. No one would claim them as friends, at least not outwardly or in public.

· When and with whom was your first kiss? :: Daniel Dunn was her first kiss in most all her verses. He was a messed up kid, a psychopath that was highly functioning and much too sadistic, even as far as most psychopaths are concerned. He used her and abused her for most of her young adult years, as her father had her mother. ( What was it they said about emulating what you saw as a child and being doomed to repeat it…? ) In one of her verses she has known Daryl Dixon all of her life and he is her first kiss…her first everything.

· Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? :: Same as the question above to be honest. Most of her verses features Daniel Dunn in that role, as fucked up and cruel as that is, and in the one it’s Daryl Dixon.

· If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. :: Bobby was definitely informed by her childhood and her mother’s and father’s relationship as far as what kind of person she wanted to become. She would consciously always pick a path that led her to be her mother, kind and sweet and a pure heart with passion despite being regularly beaten down and broken by outside influences because of her goodness. She was also inspired to become a trauma nurse thanks to all the times she had to help fix up her mom, her siblings and herself over the years, some of the things she’d come into schooling being self-taught after a bad couple of nights.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

· What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? :: The night Dan almost killed her and she survived, barely, to be present and the star witness at the trial that would send him to prison for at least 20 years for attempted premeditated murder. And every so many years when probation is brought before the review board, release for good behavior, she makes sure she’s available to speak. She even takes the day off work to make sure she can go down and make herself and her story with him heard.

· Who has had the most influence on you? :: Mama.

· What do you consider your greatest achievement? :: Bouncing back from being a high school dropout ( even though her reasoning was perfectly acceptable and understandable ), getting her GED and her degrees. Putting herself first. Finally.

· What is your greatest regret? :: Bobby blames herself for her mother’s death. Obviously her mother became addicted to opioids and died of an aortic rupture, which were things no little girl could have realistically been able to help or prevent. Nonetheless she thinks, and has believed all her life that maybe she wasn’t strong enough to help her mother through the worst of their lives, to survive past it and watch her babies grow up and succeed in the way their mama had always wanted and hoped.

· What is the most evil thing you have ever done? :: Bobby pulled the wings off a fly once. Another time she pulled the back legs off of a grasshopper. It was, in her mind ( at least as a pretense ) all for science, but some psychologists and therapists might think otherwise.

· Do you have a criminal record of any kind? :: Bobby has gotten arrested a couple times, all for misdemeanor things like stealing a candy bar from a convenience store and for indecent exposure in her small town when she was caught with her pants down around the bend, side of the road, peeing in the brush while drunk.

· When was the time you were the most frightened? :: Bobby was frightened to the same extent twice in her life. The first when her mother was being beaten for the last time ( which was also the night she died ) and when Bobby herself was being beaten and broken and nearly killed by Dan.

· What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? :: When she was 15 ( which is not a legal age of consent and no, I do not condone anything happening to minors, this is just FICTION ) she was being diddled by Dan in the back seat of his car ( he was older than she was by 2 years as well ) when she opened her eyes to find the window down and a couple of Dan’s older friends jerking themselves off to what Dan was doing to her, turning her on and playing with her. She immediately wanted to stop and thankfully there were other people walking by when she started screaming or she most likely would have been forced to continue against her will. It was both embarrassing for her and equally as dangerous and twisted a situation.

· If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? :: Bobby often wishes she was older and stronger than she was when her mother died. She wants to be able to go back and take her siblings out of that environment altogether. She wants to have been able to maybe even save her mother.

· What is your best memory? :: The ones alone in the woods. Anything where the woodlands creatures accepted her as a part of their world, knowing inherently she wouldn’t hurt them.

· What is your worst memory? :: The way her mother died, in her arms, at home. There were no police and no ambulance until it was too late to save her, much too late.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

· Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? :: Optimistic.

· What is your greatest fear? :: Being powerless and out of control of her own life.

· What are your religious views? :: She’s spiritual but does not ascribe to any one particular religious sect or view. She tends to take a little of this and a little of that from various religions, whatever she feels she can identify with in the moment and incorporate into her lifestyle.

· What are your political views? :: Progressive Liberal Independent.

· What are your views on sex? :: The more the better. Well, provided it’s the right person and it’s consensual. Also, sometimes a little kinky if she trusts the person she’s with implicitly.

· Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? :: In any verses where the apocalypse doesn’t exist ( or not yet ) she could only kill if it was someone threatening her life or the lives of her family/spouse/kids. In the apocalypse, she begins just as they all did, saying they would never kill the living, then only if she had to, and progressing until doing it regularly because she had to and there were rarely other options. Not to say there are moments when she should kill and doesn’t, for one reason or another, but she makes sure to weigh the call. Taking a life, being a healer as she is and continues to be, isn’t an easy call to make.

· In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? :: To abuse physically, emotionally, mentally, and/or sexually a child. To Bobby that is the most reprehensible crime.

· Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? :: Yes.

· What do you believe makes a successful life? :: The impact one has on the world around them, whoever or whatever they touch/influence. What a person leaves behind, their legacy.

· How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? :: Bobby is pretty honest about her feelings now, almost to a detriment. She’s brutally honest about thoughts and feelings and has been pretty intense in all aspects of her life since her father died and set her free from the binds of her past.

· Do you have any biases or prejudices? :: Bobby has biases against rapists and child molesters, child abusers and domestic violence offenders. Really, she feels as though anyone who breaks the law for more than stealing some food ( if a person is desperate to eat or feed their family ) they should do the time applicable to the crime.

· Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? :: Bobby doesn’t like to lie. She won’t do it. If asked to lie she will retreat from the conflict altogether, saying nothing to either party. If asked for the truth, therefore, she would have to tell the truth. Her replies at being asked to lie always include some formulation of ‘if you want to propagate lies and slander then do it in your name.’ Her refusal stems from years of her mother and her family lying to the authorities, to medical professionals, to the world about what they went through at her father’s hands. ( Whether they knew or not otherwise wasn’t the point. )

· Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? :: Family and friends that have become family. Her spouse, her partner, the person she’s chosen to spend the rest of her life with. Her children, adopted or natural, blood or not.

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

· In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? :: Bobby is always guided by the other person. She will usually begin friendly and polite, if a bit wary and gruff depending on the circumstances. It always depends on the first impression and expression of the other person how she reacts and treats them from there, forward. Sometimes a rude or dislike situation can be changed over time if both parties work toward making it positive or a catalyst turns the dynamic around. Likewise, if someone starts off friendly with her it can turn to dislike and even hatred if given the right cataclysm. She read this quote once that she lives by : ‘if you feel it necessary to judge me by my past, don’t be surprised when I put you in it.’ Most often, however, if a person is able to get past all the walls she’s built over time against being hurt viscerally by someone intimately, they’re in her heart and they’re usually there for good.

· Who is the most important person in your life, and why? :: It depends on the verse. Sometimes all she has left are her brother and sister. Other verses are dependent on her family/attachments/spouses/significant others. Rick, Shane, Daryl, Charley, etc. Family is important to Bobby, especially at the end of the world. Her children are first and foremost the most important people in her life in the verses in which she has them.

· Who is the person you respect the most, and why? :: Carol. No matter what verse is concerned, this holds true. She sees a lot of her mother in Carol. A lot of the same strengths and hopes and dreams that have been tramped down by a man with a heavy hand and an awfully small constitution. Of all the people Bobby has the pleasure to meet in all her travels and all her realities, Carol is the one person she loves and supports and looks up to the most.

· Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. :: Bobby has very few friends in the real world. As stated before she was never a popular kid growing up and only got any recognition for her beauty by boys or girls with one thing on the mind. The only people she considers as true friends she made after the world as she knew it already ended. Carol. Daryl. Rick. Shane. Maggie. Glenn. Enid. King Ezekiel. Jerry. Jesus. Aaron. Etc. The only exception to this is the verse where she’s known Daryl all her life; in that case she’s always had him. He is her best friend. And her cat, Patches, a gray and white tabby cat with darker gray almost black ears, definitely constitutes as a best friend.

· Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. :: Daryl – nickname Tracker; annoyed and frustrated with how much she talks but loves her for it anyway and finds it kind of endearing despite himself; afraid of intimacy in the same way that she is and was and what makes them a good fit is their willingness now to grow together solely with one another; can’t live with her and can’t live without her; hillbilly grump with the most honest, pure, innocent heart of anyone she knows. Shane – nickname Deputy; knows who the real boss of the house is; is probably afraid of Bobby…maybe…like a lot; strong willed, passionate, and has an easy anger reflex; they fight a lot about the silliest things but it always come back to love; the thing he probably loves the most about her is that she knows how to turn the damn lights off. Rick – no nickname as yet; he really stepped into the leader role over the time they’ve known each other; Bobby never expected to follow him as closely as she does now; they don’t always agree but they rarely actually fight; he’s the epitome of calm and problem solving in dire situations; he’d walk through Hell and all its fire for her and his kids and probably everyone else he cares for and that’s the one thing she loves the most above all else about him. Mac – nickname Cupcake; strictly a fanfiction/headcanon ship at this point; used to ship this pairing exclusively with macxtheanimal way back when; a meth head, rapist, murderer, criminal, muscle and enforcer for his father’s crystal meth operation; he’s a villain that makes no apologies for his actions but she can see the broken little boy in him, abandoned by his mother so long ago to his father’s lifestyle; kept her hostage as a sex slave for a long time until they had an intimate exchange one night and she whispered to him that she just wanted to be free to make the choice; he let her go, saying she was free and he knew she’d always leave because they all did if given a chance; she stayed. {{ All are subject to change based on verse or partner writing this with us. Mostly these listings as spouses or SO’s are exclusive right now to wexarethewalkingxdead and macxtheanimal. }}

· Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. :: She’s only been in love a couple times in her life. ( Verse dependent. ) It almost always ends in pain and suffering for her, be it physically or emotionally, but there are a few over the verses/years that she’s found true happiness with.

· What do you look for in a potential lover? :: Connection. Chemistry. Sexy/pretty eyes. Rough pads of their hands and they have to be steady and firm. Stable.

· How close are you to your family? :: Bobby and her siblings are VERY close, even though they don’t live in the same place anymore. Sometimes herself and her sister Kath haven’t always been as close as they should have been. Those moments are almost always based on imagined slights of some kind because Bobby is and always has been an outspoken person; she never sugar coats things that should be communicated. It follows in the same vein as her always being truthful. Hence, sometimes hurt feelings. Bobby and the people she’s come to think of as family are likewise, VERY close with these same issues of hurt feelings now and again, resulting mostly in a short time of silence or avoidance between the parties.

· Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? :: This is dependent on her verses. In some she does make a family with someone special. In others she hasn’t, whether because she hasn’t found that someone yet or because she’s afraid of finding a man like her father and subjecting herself to the same life her mother lived prior to her death – not to mention subjecting any children they might have to that lifestyle.

· Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? :: Bobby would turn to her siblings first, provided it was something they could solve realistically. If they aren’t available or they can’t fix it because they live out of state, etc, the next stop would be her chosen family, friends she’s made along the way that would go the extra mile for her, and she for them.

· Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? :: Very few people and they have to prove themselves to her with their deeds, not just words and promises coming off lips and tongues that have lied so many times they probably don’t even know they’re doing it anymore.

· If you died or went missing, who would miss you? :: Her family ( her brother and sister ) have been living in different states from her for quite a few years now but that doesn’t mean they’ve become distant. They would definitely miss her. Also any of the family she’s made in the apocalypse. Obviously this is verse dependent.

· Who is the person you despise the most, and why? :: Actually, I think Bobby despises her mother the most of anyone she’s ever known in her life. It’s a very complicated relationship. Bobby still loves her mother; while she was alive she was the only kindness Bobby and her siblings knew. She was strong and endured a lot but that same strength could also be considered weakness. Why couldn’t she have left their father? Why couldn’t she have taken them away and made a go of it on their own? Maybe she’d be alive today. Maybe a lot of things. So Bobby is constantly fighting with love and hate for the woman that bore her.

· Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? :: Bobby has a good sense for whatever a situation calls for, usually. In most circumstances she will listen and hear someone out before saying her piece. But she is southern and strong willed, a stiff backbone, and sometimes the outrage comes dripping off her teeth like venom before she can stave them off. In moments when she can’t be smart and hold her tongue, and even when she does, Bobby is a woman who is definitely not afraid of conflict if she feels the situation calls for it.

· Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? :: Bobby is strong enough to take the weight of the world on her shoulders. It certainly depends on what the situation is, but in the case of her primary verse – in the Walker apocalypse – she doesn’t hold back. As a healer, a nurse, she will absolutely take on a leadership role if one is needed. If another leader is present, and she respects that person, they will only gain support from her; likewise, if they do not have her respect, all they will get it push-back until they either utilize her and her ideas to their potential or she potentially replaces them as the leader. She’s very strong but she is versatile. She knows when to step back and let things shake loose.

· Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? :: Bobby has always been a little bit of a loner. She’d personable but she also likes her alone time. As previously discussed, there wasn’t a lot of silent time in her home and she much rather would have been somewhere alone with her thoughts instead of lined up ready to catch a beating. Large crowds do tend to make her a little anxious. She’d much rather only deal with a few people at a time.

· Do you care what others think of you? :: Bobby does care what other people thing of her, to an extent. She doesn’t dwell on it, however, and if there are ever opinions that are misconstrued or wrong she will make sure not to ever think on those things again. The only thing that usually can get to Bobby is when people she loves and is devoted to make comments to her that can be considered derogatory or hurtful, judging.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

· What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? :: Hiking and taking walks in the lush green forests. Photography. Reading. Her grandma taught her mother how to sew and thus, taught Bobby enough to get by; those nursing lessons on stitching wounds up didn’t hurt either.

· What is your most treasured possession? :: Patches. He is a grey and white tabby cat with dubious bloodline origin with black ears. She’s had him with her for a long time and she’d walk through fire for him if she had to.

· What is your favorite color? :: Blue.

· What is your favorite food? :: Seafood boil.

· What, if anything, do you like to read? :: Bobby is an always will be a fan of anything she can get her hands on. She does go through moods, however, devoted to certain genres over the others. Predominantly she reads works of fiction about murder and crime, who done its and thrillers. Horror novels are a must as well. A favorite series of hers is the By The Numbers novels about Stephanie Plum and her life fumble bumbling through the Bounty Hunter business by Janet Evanovich. Romance novels, unless well written with a predominant plot encompassing one of the aforementioned genres, can go suck lemons!

· What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? :: Bobby is mostly a music person. Movies are fine and television can captivate her attention if its done well but there’s nothing better than putting in a CD, or plugging her headphones into her phone’s jack and playing some tunes on the digital frequency. It sets the mood, no matter what that mood is, 100% of the time.

· Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? :: Bobby used to smoke. It was something to do with her hands and a nervous tick that she adopted mostly in crowded groups of people to help calm her nerves in those situations. Social smoking. Whether or not she still does it verse dependent. Bobby also drinks alcoholic beverages but within reason and rarely ever to excess.

· How do you spend a typical Saturday night? :: In the apocalypse there is a lot to do, all of the time. There’s never a dull moment. Saturdays are usually reserved for whatever needs doing that wasn’t done the day before, as well as making time for family and friends trying to reclaim what was stolen from them by the world as it exists now. In the other verses where the world is normal, Saturdays are usually reserved for family time, the park, the zoo, barbecues with family and friends, etc. On the rare occasion work comes calling – she is an emergency room nurse – she will sometimes go in. And sometimes not.

· What makes you laugh? :: Stupid jokes, dad jokes, horrible puns. Her husband. Her kids. New airings and reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos.

· What, if anything, shocks or offends you? :: Racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, slurs and swear words used in conjunction with said slurs and behavior, etc. Anything that could be considered along the same vein by small minded people who are afraid of anything they don’t know and haven’t bothered to become educated about/in.

· What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? :: Insomnia does sometimes strike. It happens in those moments when something exceptionally traumatic happens at work or there happens to be a scare with her husband, kids, or siblings/family, those moments when she’s in the dark of the night, sometimes alone, with her own thoughts and fears. Sometimes there is no amusing herself. Sometimes she has to talk herself down off a very high ledge. Sometimes she has to wake up her significant other ( if present ) just to know they’re there, they’re alive. Sometimes the heartbeat and the steady breathing isn’t enough.

· How do you deal with stress? :: Bobby reads. She keeps her hands busy cooking, cleaning, and caring for her family. Killing Walkers in the apocalypse, keeping a tight perimeter. Yoga and pilates in the verses where the world hasn’t changed.

· Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? :: Bobby is usually a very plan oriented person. She’s learned over the years that the only way to be is concerned, vigilant, if a bit controlling. That isn’t to say that she’s a control freak, but she does have strong opinions and will be heard on them. She wishes she was more spontaneous and sometimes makes attempts to purposely exit her comfort zone in certain situations she deems it appropriate, such as her sex life, dates, etc.

· What are your pet peeves? :: People who can’t follow directions or laws of an ordered society. People who lie or steal unless circumstances are such that would overwrite the negative or somehow make an allowance for it. People who judge others or presume to tell other people their business when they don’t even have their lives together.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

· Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? :: Regardless of what her work schedule works like ( days or evenings ) Bobby gets up around 5 a.m. daily. She makes coffee through the slits of her eyelids. She then returns to the bathroom where she showers and brushes her teeth. By that time she usually is ready to start breakfast for herself and whoever else is present. Morning shifts she works until 3 p.m. She will usually run any errands she has to do at that time before coming home and making dinner. Night shifts she works until 11 p.m. doing the errands and prepping dinner before leaving for the night for her shift. If her routine happens to be interrupted or subverted in any way, she usually gets a little perturbed, might make a dramatic comment about everything being a mess, and carrying on with things as best as she can.

· What is your greatest strength as a person? :: Her heart and her generosity. It helped her overcome a lot of odds that were stacked against her from the beginning.

· What is your greatest weakness? :: Her heart. Sometimes she’s loyal to a fault even though the people she let inside of it use her and abuse her. Also her stubborn as a mule attitude and her stiff backbone. When she’s made up her mind there’s very precious little that can change it.

· If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? :: How her past shaped her to be numb and emotionless in certain situations that require feeling. She doesn’t always respond in the right ways to tragedy or loss. Sometimes not responding at all. It’s a more calloused wounded part of herself she wished she didn’t have.

· Are you generally introverted or extroverted? :: Generally extroverted but in small doses. Large gatherings or venues kept to a minimum.

· Are you generally organized or messy? :: Organized.

· Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. :: Good – 1) Problem solving, 2) Nursing/healing, 3) Being a wife and mother. Bad – 1) Spontaneity, 2) Letting go, 3) Cleaning vomit.

· Do you like yourself? :: Yes. For the most part.

· What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…) :: It’s a choice you make. When things get difficult, what kind of person would you want to be? If a child cries in the dark, scared, alone; would you help them? Or would you turn away? Tell yourself it’s not your concern. If a mother and father are fighting for their child’s life as the child is being physically removed from their arms, wounded, killed before them. Would you intervene if you could? Or turn your back? Would you do everything you could because you have the ability, because you have the choice or do you do nothing, make the choice not to, and perhaps blood be on your hands…? It’s a choice she makes every day to do better, to be someone she could be proud of, that her family would remember and be proud of long after she was gone. Her sacrifice, if needed, would not be in vane.

· What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? :: Leave the world a little better than she found it.

· Where do you see yourself in 5 years? :: She can’t say. She hopes to be alive and well, actually living a life and happy within its confines. But she knows that may never come. Not even tomorrow is guaranteed…

· If you could choose, how would you want to die? :: Old and grey in her sleep. In the apocalypse, if she could choose and she was bitten/injured beyond the ability to be healed, she would want to shoot herself in the head before changing. She wouldn’t want to leave it for any of her loved ones to do; she doesn’t want that burden to be on their soul.

· If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. :: 1) Write little notes or letters to those she loved who would miss her and feel her loss the most. 2) Love on and spend a lot of time with the children, 3) Clean, load, cock and ready her gun and wait.

· What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? :: Her kindness. How many people she helped. How far out of her way she sometimes went to make that happen.

· What three words best describe your personality? :: Brave, Generous, and Loyal

· What three words would others probably use to describe you? :: Bold, Daring, and Realistic

· If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…) :: Bobby. You are without a doubt the biggest pain in my ass, second only to Shane and Daryl. You are the most generous, kind, loyal person I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. You’re also one of the most stubborn. A word of advice might be you think too much. You plan and you organize and you get shit done. I get it. But sometimes, you’re a little too extra. Learn what it’s like to be a girl. Let your hair down more. Unscrew the dick sometimes. It’s fun being a girl. And I know that you know that but you’re too afraid to lose control because you think if you do you’ll lose everything good you ever had. And I know it’s because you don’t think you deserve all the good you have received over the years. You’re beauty. You’re grace. You’re the kind of person I wish I could be sometimes; but you need to be a little less afraid of what you could lose and more willing to risk it all. A man in my life asked me once if a moment of happiness was worth a lifetime of anything else. And the answer is yes.

#ic #about Bobby #• you got some beach ball sized lady nuts on you • { bobby monroe }#character development

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atruththatyoudeny · 6 years

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MONTHLY READS | October 2018

Happy 1D Fanworks Appreciation Day! Thank you so much for all the hard work you put into your stories and the courage to share them with us! I am so grateful for all the amazing authors in this fandom. Here are the fics I read this month, as always, Top 5 + 16 (!!) more under the cut (to not clog up your dash)

The Road Less Travelled

by freetheankles | Lumberjack Louis | angst | slow burn | slow build | hurt/comfort | mutual pining | banter | minor character death | 98k Louis was a lumberjack happy to be living his life alone in what could qualify as Middle Of Nowhere, Canada. Every morning, he went out into the woods, cut his logs, then came home at dusk to a scalding hot shower and a good book by the fireplace. Rinse and Repeat. He had a good life, quiet and peaceful; simple. Not a secluded one as Niall annoyingly claimed. Louis certainly didn't need some chatty trespasser dropping into his life, his forest, his home. Invading his space, his circle of friends, touching his stuff, asking questions about his husband. His late husband. A trespasser who wasn’t supposed to crawl under his skin, occupy his thoughts, and steal his heart from where Louis had locked it safely away, only to put it right back on Louis’ sleeve — where it once laid. No, Louis definitely didn’t need Harry.

I Wanna Be More Than Friends

by 2tiedships2 | a/b/o | accidental bonding | friends to lovers | fluff | childhood friends | 20k He hadn't meant to scent Harry. They were best friends and that was it. Scenting best friends wasn't exactly socially acceptable. "Lou," Harry whispered. Louis jumped at his name and sat up straighter to provide a bit of distance between himself and Harry. "You can't scent me, Lou," Harry stated. Which of course Louis couldn't scent him. They were best friends. "I mean," Harry continued. "I wouldn't mind exactly, but if I can't scent you, I don't think you should scent me." "What do you mean you can't scent me? I mean, I get it because we're best friends but..." "I mean I can't smell you, Louis. I fucking can't smell you. I can't smell anything, okay?" Or the one where Harry’s an alpha with no sense of smell, Louis’ an omega who isn’t allowed to scent his best friend, and that’s all they’ll ever be. Obviously.

We'll Never Fall Apart

by GMTYUniverse for 1D Pet Fest | post break-up | pre-make up | exes to lovers | famous/ not famous | angst | fluff | 20k Harry’s hand seems to tremble a bit as he takes the pen from Louis. Louis pretends he doesn’t notice. It’s not his right anymore to notice, he thinks to himself. Or maybe it is – as friends. He’s not sure what being just friends entails, if he’s being entirely honest. He’s a bit confused where they’ve drawn the line, or will be drawing the line. It's just - it’s not really clear where they stand at the moment. Despite all the paperwork surrounding Oliver, there's so much left unsaid. Then again, maybe everything already has been said and Louis is just scrambling for reasons to keep holding on. or the one where Louis and Harry's relationship falls apart after 7 years, but the rescue dog they raised together doesn’t understand the joint-custody agreement they’ve hashed out.

Stars are guiding me back

by coffeelouis | Bachelor AU | post break-up | 78k Directing the first ever season of The Bachelor with a bisexual star is a huge career move for Louis. After throwing himself into his career, he finally has the opportunity to prove himself as a director with a unique vision. For Harry, being cast as the first ever Bi Bachelor means finally putting his ex-boyfriend behind him and starting anew. He's taking a chance on finding love and determined to do it right this time. They didn't exactly think this through. [or, the BACHELOR AU where Louis directs his ex-boyfriend Harry in his season as America's first bi bachelor.]

Dirty secret

by iilarryii | Mulan AU | a/b/o | enemies to friends to lovers | war | mpreg | character death | 122k "Dad, you can't go!" Louis yells to his father as he watches him pull out his sword. "Louis, you know that I have to. It's the pack leaders orders," Dan says calmly. "I need you to promise me that you'll take care of the family if I die." "So what? You'll just give up?" "Of course not. I am just willing to die for my family's safety." "So am I." The Zoely pack is attacked by rogue alphas and the pack leader orders all alphas over the age of eighteen to protect their pack. Dan Deakin is one of the strongest alphas in the pack, but there is one problem. He has a wife and six kids to feed and look after. Louis is the oldest child and the one who wants to protect their family. Or a Mulan AU where Louis is an omega who takes his father's place in the war.

To change how you see and what you believe

by jaerie for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange 2018 | mpreg | unplanned pregnancy | I didn't know I was pregnant AU | friends to lovers | graphic description of birth | 12k Harry and Louis are best friends who just happen to fall into bed with each other sometimes, it's not a big deal. After a drunken night of discussing their kinks, they wake up naked together. They don't remember what happened, but they've done it before and they'll probably do it again, but five months later, a surprise changes everything.

Baby We Could Be Enough

by lovelarry10 for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange 2018 | mpreg | mutual pining | angst | natural birth | 74k Harry Styles has always wanted a family, but his boyfriend doesn’t. When an unexpected pregnancy leaves Harry feeling alone and terrified, he feels he has no choice but to give up his baby. He finds a family with the adoptive parents, and maybe something more. ~ Louis Tomlinson and his wife, Jess, have been trying for a baby for years. Their hasty marriage after they first got pregnant has only led to a series of miscarriages that have put a strain on their already precarious relationship. When they meet a young man desperate for a home and someone to raise his child, Louis realizes that he may have been moving in the wrong direction all along.

He Saw His Own Eyes

by SadaVeniren for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange 2018 | mpreg | doctor/patient | angst | friends to lovers | 16k Dear Child, By the time you read this I’ll be dead. Here’s how I think it’s gonna to happen. Your mum - whoever they are and I’m sure they’ll be a smashing person - will read this letter, realize I quoted a very old and niche video, and teleport to my exact location and strangle me. I know sense of humor is not genetic but if it was I hope you’d get mine. I hope you don’t get my nose - it’s pretty big, and if you get my height I hope your mum evened it out with some grace and coordination so you didn’t spend puberty impersonating Bambi on ice. I’ve finally grown into it but it took awhile and I once almost fell into a bonfire because of it. Maybe I’ll tell you about it when we meet up! Please know that if you decide to reach out to me I will be receptive, so don’t let that cause you any anxiety. I hope that your life has been good so far. I’m sure your mum (and dad or other mum or other parenting figure) loved you with everything they are. Yours, Dad P.S. Then two cops will read this letter and shoot each other. AKA Louis conceives a child from an anonymous donor and Harry’s the midwife.

Shut your mind off (and let your heart hear me)

by BeHappily for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange 2018 | mpreg | ballet | kid fic | friends with benefits | 13k Harry wants Louis for a while, Louis wants Harry forever, but emotions and a little human get in their way. Or, an AU where Louis is a single father to cute twins, Harry is a ballet dancer who doesn't want any relationship, and they foolishly become friends with benefits, but maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

A Perfect Reason

by Chelsea Frew for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange 2018 | mpreg | royalty | fluff | famous/not famous | natural birth| 29k During a visit to a charity he'd like to support, Prince Louis--next in line to the throne of the United Kingdom--meets Harry, the man of his dreams. Trouble is, Louis is not out, and the law says his heirs can only be born of a woman. Louis is determined not to let that stop his pursuit of Harry. His determination doubles when Harry accidentally becomes pregnant. He and Harry will have their little family--and change the monarchy while they're at it.

Does it Look Devious or Something?

by haztobegood for 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names | sex toy store | homophobia | 4k When someone complains about Louis’ new business, he must defend his sex toy shop to the city council. Written for Prompt #231: The amazement at how much hot air people manage to produce.

Beneath the sound of hope

by YesIsAWorld | sexual confusion | high school | 1990s | 6k After Louis Tomlinson leaves the set of the Smashing Pumpkins’ “1979” music video, it’s not the band or the experience that he can’t stop thinking about—it’s the curly-haired boy he met while filming. Determined to track that same boy down, he sets off on a short journey and ends up figuring out some truths about himself along the way.

Better Late Than Never

Navždy

by nikogda | vampires | established relationship | 7k Louis took his hand and walked him over to the up escalator and felt him squeeze it tightly as he stepped on. And that is how it went, up and down as Louis watched Harry from the seats by the puzzles near Starbucks. He could see Harry as he went up the escalator and down, only to repeat about twenty more times. Louis sighed, because he loves Harry of course he does. So he would put up with this and the amusement that wore off a while ago. Yet for Harry, this newness was still very exciting to him. Louis couldn’t wait to show him Netflix. Wondered if Harry had seen a television. He stood up as Harry neared the floor and walked over to him. “Babe, do you know what a television is?” Louis questioned, reaching for Harry’s hand to keep him from going towards the up escalator. “I’m not a complete idiot, Lou.” Louis could see the glint of Harry’s fangs as he smiled, his hand covering his mouth quickly. “Have you ever watched one?” He tugged Harry to the exit. “No,” Harry said quietly. Or, Harry finally rejoins a world where everything has changed but the most important thing is exactly the same.

I love your demons (like devils can)

by ariadne_odair for One Direction Big Bang: Round 3 | Girl Direction | homophobia | internalised homophobia | angst | 60k "I am right here," she says loudly, and she can almost hear the crack when Louis' head whips around to stare at her. "Why?" Louis asks, and Harry feels her insides shrivel up and die. Harry didn’t plan to join the football team. She didn’t plan to sleep with the captain of the football team. She definitely didn’t plan to sleep with the closeted captain of the football team, who promptly acted as if nothing happened and left Harry a pathetic, pining mess.

Sea Salt and Chocolate

by cupcakeL | strangers to lovers | friends to lovers | coffee shops & cafés | cheating | fluff | 10k “How can I help you?” He looked at the customer and wow, Harry was pretty sure this guy had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. When the guy opened his mouth Harry could almost feel the venom in his voice. “Do you have some kind of truffle that passive aggressively says ‘fuck you’?” Or Harry owns a confectionary/café and Louis is an aspiring musician who needs to break up with his boyfriend via truffles.

We'll Paint the Town

by kotabear24 for Larry Abroad Fic Challenge | Say Yes to the Dress AU | Kleinfeld's | famous/not famous | 4k For the Larry abroad prompt: Kleinfeld's, New York. This is a Say Yes to the Dress fic. In which Louis can't flirt, Lottie does all the work, Harry just wants to get her in a damn dress, and Niall is an aggressive affirmer. It ends well for everyone.

Knot Safe For Work

The Things You Hide

by LiveLaughLoveLarry for HL Summer Exchange 2015 | spies Á secret agents | angst | undercover missions | 27k Louis has been an MI6 agent for four years. Now he wants out. Unfortunately, his superiors have other ideas. Their solution: a 'mission' in the Greek Islands, one that's more vacation than actual work. Harry is an avid photographer who shows him around the area. He's open and carefree and everything that Louis wishes he could be. Along the way they fall in love, and maybe Louis learns a little about love, a little about lies, and a whole lot the meaning of home.

Say It First

Take Our Bodies Higher

by littlelouishiccups | phone sex | dirty talk | Daddy kink | Dom/sub | 21k Harry wasn’t often caught off guard at his job anymore. He called different men Sir, Master, or Daddy for work almost every week, but he’d never been told he was a good boy in a voice quite like that. In which Harry is a phone sex operator and Louis dials a wrong number.

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