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bluemoondust · 1 year

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May I request some general romantic headcanons for yan!Larry please?

Absolutely! This man has been living rent free in my head since the moment I saw him,,, (ღ˘ω˘ღ) Gotta start with the fave! Hope you enjoy these!

✧General Yandere Headcanons✧ — Gym Leader Larry

Warning(s): Slight Spoilers for Scarlet/Violet!, Obsessive Behavior, Monopolizing, Slight Hints of Possessive Behavior

So... As a yandere, it would take a while until Larry gained an obsession towards you. It's not like he's rejecting the possibility of a romantic relationship, it's just that he's busy... Plus, it takes time for him to gain romantic feelings and again, he's a man who enjoys the simple life. You'd have to be a constant in his life in order for his attention to be grabbed. Hanging around him when he's on break with either a visit to Treasure Eatery or a battle here and there (though he prefers to eat with you) is the best way to do so.

When his yandere traits arise, he'll immediately know and be highly aware of them unlike most yanderes. Larry absolutely knows himself and his life enough to notice anything out of place. The growing yandere traits will be found out instantly. It's a bit conflicting to deal with, because, this isn't the norm. This isn't how a person should feel towards someone they'd normally love. Is this love? Maybe it was, but Larry can tell it isn't... Traditional.

He can't ignore it, honestly. No matter how much he tries to go through his daily routine, the thought of you sticks with him like super glue. Thankfully, it doesn't get to the point where it messes with his work, but he's catch himself lacking here and there. He can't even be mad at you. That wouldn't be fair since, it's his feelings but some part of him knows that you visiting him has caused this reaction in the first place.

So what does Larry do? Well, unlike most yanderes, he can't just devote time into stalking you to gather information or find time to spend with you. No, he just has to incorporate you into his daily life/schedule somehow. You already spend time with him during his breaks, so that's good. Sooner or later, it won't just be eating together that will be the only time you two interact. This man will basically monopolize your time in due course. It's not something immediate, rather, slowly but surely so you won't take notice. He prefers it that way, being able to take the reigns and put things in place to have things running smoothly.

Larry isn't very outward with his yandere behavior, making him one of the most difficult yanderes to detect. Which means that there are high chances that you'll find out too late about his obsession towards you unless you're very perceptive. Speaking of which, he also doesn't get jealous. I mean, you already go out of your way to see him during breaks so it gives him some semblance that you might have a reason in doing so. He won't jump to conclusions, but with how he's working things around, Larry isn't afraid of others showing interest in you. At some point, you won't even be able to have time for them.

Oh, but you know who does get jealous? His Pokemon. Even if Larry hasn't spoken too much about his true feelings for you to them, they can tell he's grown an attachment. Komala and Altaria are quite clingy around you, always sticking around your person in some way. There was even a time where you had difficulty prying off the comatose state pokemon from your arm when Larry had to go back to work. She made disgruntled faces as she nuzzled her face into your arm.

Thankfully, he didn't need to bring her since this work wasn't related to the Gym, so he let her cling to you. Altaria also just decided to hover close to you, making herself look bigger if anyone attempted to flirt with you. Also, I like to think that Oinkologne rubs against your to make sure you're scented, so other pokemon and people will know not to linger around you too long.

Oh, but Staraptor and Braviary are the worst when it comes to being protective of you. The former is a little more rational and keeps the latter from doing anything too rash unless needed. Altaria doesn't get aggressive like them, but she is also a close contender in terms of possessiveness. Anyways, the mentioned birds just... Hang around you and if any person tries to get too close to you, they'll use intimidation to get them running off. All of them are highly aware of how much you mean to Larry, so they just can't let anyone else besides him have you. Besides, they enjoy your company immensely and wouldn't want to lose that, especially since they can see how your mere presence brings him more to look forward to.

If you don't count the very protective pokemon Larry has, there's not much of a danger posed towards others. He isn't going to be a danger to himself or you either for obvious reasons. Larry only wants a simple life with you, but of course, these feelings aren't so simple. So he just adapts to it as best as he can, making sure he's the only constant in your life. You won't even notice how your life is shifting ever so slightly to fit with his own. So, in short terms, there's really no need for kidnapping. It's too much of a hassle anyways and... He really doesn't want it to get to that point, no matter how much some urges scream at him. Everything will be alright. Just leave everything to him.

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere pokemon #yandere pokemon x reader #yandere pokemon headcanons #yandere larry #yandere gym leader larry #yandere elite four larry #yandere scarvio #yandere scavio #male yandere #yandere x you

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eddie-gluskin-and-i · 3 years

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Eddie's query made her pause. While she didn't have much experience in being courted (most "suitors" forgot the difference between courtship and crass attempts to bed her), she did spend many hours in etiquette class, courtesy of her grandmother. From what she remembered, she knew better than to babble incessantly on the first meeting and to monopolize the conversation. But she knew that lying wasn't just a sin, but an absolute deal breaker all in all....and she'd been raised better. Presently, she gave another glacier melting smile, before replying with, "At the moment, I've been working in the local library for a good six months. Its perfect for a bibliophile like me. When I'm not working, I've been trying to keep busy with chores, horse riding...and the firing range." She tried to gauge his reaction as she said the last line with a smile that almost looked coy. She hoped he wouldn't see the faint scar on her left hand- at least until after dessert. She considered changing the subject- a byproduct of old trauma- by remarking that she would /love/ to pay his establishment a visit soon, and if the food was to his liking.

"A librarian versed in horse riding and firearms? My, aren't you impressive!"

If he disapproved of anything she'd said, he hid it well. He only looked at her with an inscrutable gaze as he swirled the glass of wine in his hand. Coraline subtly shifted her hand so it was hidden from view.

"Perhaps one day I will pay you a visit. I have been meaning to pick up a few books on my reading list," he said.

Coraline perked up a bit at the mention of books. She set down her fork and leaned in.

"What's on the list?" She asked.

Eddie mirrored her, leaning forward as well until he was so close she caught a faint whiff of the Chenin Blanc they were drinking on his breath. He paused a moment to study her up close before answering.

"Oh, just some texts on modern architecture and design."

Coraline responded with a curious tilt of the head. "Architecture and design? So you're a designer of fashion and buildings?"

He laughed with a modest shake of the head. "No, not in the slightest. It's just been a goal of mine to learn more about it - to broaden my horizons. Like a woman who is all of a librarian, equestrian and markswoman to boot."

A blush crept across her cheeks at the compliment. She was thankfully saved the risk of him noticing as the waiter came to pick up their plates. Upon Coraline’s assent, Eddie ordered a plate of cheesecake to share.

The evening had passed so quickly it seemed, and between the two of them the bottle of wine was almost empty. Coraline glanced out the windows a moment, a smile still on her face from one of Eddie’s tales of shoppers in the high-end business district.

“It’s already dark out! Has it really been that long already?” She asked.

“Time flies when you’re in good company,” he responded with a wink.

Coraline raised a brow. “Is that a compliment to you or me?”

He only chuckled in response. It may have just been the wine, but Coraline was finding it harder and harder to ignore her attraction to the man. She had gone in slightly apprehensive of the evening, but it’d turned out to be better than she could’ve imagined. She might’ve even gone so far as to think he was perfect, had she not been older and wiser.

As if reading her thoughts, his expression suddenly grew serious.

“I’ll be frank. I’ve truly been enjoying our time together, more so than I have with anyone else in a long time.”

He let his thumb touch the side of her hand, and when she didn’t retreat he slowly slid it along her finger. She held back a shiver. She realized this was the first time he’d touched her.

“I’ve had… some experiences in the past. Experiences I’d rather not dwell on. I was ready to swear off dating for good, but then I saw you and knew it’d be worth trying again. I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Coraline’s jaw went slack. At first she thought he was playing her for a fool, but then she looked into his eyes. They were sad, and held all the weight and sorrows of more than one man’s lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything more.

“No matter,” he continued. “My point is, I’m very glad I took a chance on you.”

He grew silent then, looking to her expectantly and gauging her reaction.

#submission #eddie gluskin #outlast #outlast whistleblower #ask blog #rp #story time #coraline

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thecrazylady10 · 3 years

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My demon clowns! Bamboozle started out as a clownsona and then evolved somehow...

Pride, bamboozle: is childish and pretty innocent for a demon, the concept of evil and corruption and "immoral acts" are foreign to them. They see hell as a wonderland and earth as dull and boring. The only time they ever are met with reality is encountering an angel, and they are scared and dislike angels. Everyone except their fellow demon clowns and the king of hell, Lucifer, hates their existence and wants them dead.

Wrath, addle: is very short and short fused, can't help but always be in a state of frustration as they are painfully aware that everyone hates him, and he hates them too. Except his fellow demon clowns, satan tolerates him bc they share grievances with everyone in hell

Envy, noniplus: extremely insecure, tries to please everyone while unconsciously copying ideas, behaviors, even what someone's favorite thing is. She is very close to bamboozle and yabber, although yabber takes advantage of her a lot. Leviathan pities her and tries to get them to steal and fight for things from others. Unfortunately noni has too low self esteem to want things for herself even if she takes things anyways.

Greed, yabber: she love shiny objects and dont care about rarity, she is a compulsive hoarder and no baring on what "value" means. But they're not just materialistic, they love to monopolize other's time, she absolutely adore attention and will say and do whatever if it means they'll have something. Regardless of whether or not its good. Mammon is desperately trying to teach her what "high quality" is, but really they just want yabber to pick a different spot to dump all their useless crap (mammon still takes some anyways)

Lust, looney: contrary to popular belief, he's not that sexually active. Although they love to indulge and pamper themselves, he loves everything involving pleasure and it doesn't have to be about sex. It can be anything anyone enjoys, and looney loves to see people enjoy themselves. Their pleasure is his. Asmodeus likes to smoke weed with him frequently.

Gluttony, oddo: he enjoys the finer things in life as much as simpler things as well. He loves to indulge in everything at least once. Has quite the "larger than life" attitude, despite loving food he prefers to eat with company. And relishes every moment with time spent with his fellow demon clowns. Beelzebub still resents him for almost winning the annual feasting competition (they still win every time but it hurts no less to come close to loosing to a clown).

Sloth, befuddle: the only legitimately evil one of the group, but she's lazy so nothing bad will happen. But she wouldn't mind if all her friends were sacrificed if it saved her a few more hours of nap time. Abaddon favors her bc they have plans for her

#my art #clowns #demon #demon clowns #my clown sona is bamboozle

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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Geyarajan (Part 2)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Human/Male Gandharva Additional Tags: Exophilia, Gandharva, Childhood Sweethearts, Puppy Love Content Warnings: Separation, Memory lapse Words: 4600

The continuation of @floral-and-fine‘s commission! The reader decides to submit herself to the gandharvas for punishment for her perceived crimes against them, all the while hoping to see Geyarajan again. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You rode in the carriage with Aashiyana for several hours at a quick trot until you were well out of Dunmountain. You wanted to get as much distance between yourself and the city before the judge, and worse, your parents, realized you’d run off.

During the ride, Aashiyana told you everything that had happened during the four days you couldn’t remember, the four days you’d spent with her people. According to her, the children of the colony found you fascinating. Many of them had never seen a human before, so you were just as much a novelty to them as Geyarajan had been to you when you’d first met him. They took turns being your constant companions as you rested in the colony’s infirmary. Geyarajan was a little jealous that they monopolized your time, but happy that they were being nice to you.

However, the adults were distrustful of you. Geyarajan’s parents were livid at him for bringing you there. He came clean about having been visiting you for years, and that you’d never once said anything to anyone about the colony. His assurances did nothing to assuage their concerns, and had ordered him never to see you again once you were gone. Geyarajan agreed like a dutiful child, but made it clear to you and his friends in secret that he had no intention of obeying this command.

Aashiyana said that once you were well enough, you were brought before the elders of the colony and interrogated. You were terrified and Geyarajan was angry that he was not permitted to accompany you. Ultimately it was decided that you would be returned to your village, as they had no other course of action that wouldn’t provoke the humans into revenge. Killing you or keeping you would absolutely draw the wrath of the village, so giving you back would be a fifty/fifty shot of the colony’s survival.

As it stood, when the humans came to destroy the colony, they were ruthless and took no prisoners. The colony had been mostly evacuated by then as a precaution; they had moved the children, the elderly, and the infirm to a safer roost elsewhere, and the ones that remained stayed to defend the colony. However, the colony was made of wood, vines, and straw, so once a torch was put to it, it lit up like a tinderbox. Many were able to escape, but there were a few that had their flight feathers burned off and were killed in the fire. You cried with Aashiyana as she relayed this to you.

“Geyarajan came to talk to me after,” You told her. “He didn’t believe I never told anyone. He blamed me for the attack.”

“He did?” Aashiyana said. “That’s news to me. Although, after you left and the attack happened, he stopped talking about you altogether, and he forbade us from talking about you as well. He changed his name not long after. He said his name no longer suited him as he didn’t intend to sing anymore. It’s a shame really; he had a lovely voice.”

You frowned in dismay. “I knew he hated me, but I guess I didn’t realize just how much.”

Aashiyana tutted. “I don’t think he hated you. Although I suppose his feelings may have changed. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen him in a few years.”

“Why not?”

“The colony dispersed into smaller groups that live throughout the forest now. The elders felt it was safer for us than living in a big space like we did before. Besides, finding a new, ideal place to rebuild the colony and then defend it while it was actually being rebuilt, would take years. Separating was better use of resources.”

“Where does Geyarajan… or rather Gaveshan, live now? Is he still in Shelter Forest?”

“No,” She replied. “He and his family live in the settlement on the largest of the islands just off the coast near Coleville with a handful of other families. Few races ever go out there because of the legend surrounding that place, so they thought it’d be safe there.”

You knew of it. There were three large islands off the shoreline; the Beast, the Ghost, and the Demon, surrounded by many tiny satellite islands known as the Watchers of the Wharf. Beast Island, the biggest of the three, was said to house all manner of horrible monstrosity, but knowing what you knew now, you were pretty sure it was a scare tactic to keep people away.

“Where do you live?”

“Another settlement in the woods between Coleville and Tandale, close to the lake,” Aashiyana said. “Coleville is a town that’s much kinder to non-humans. We don’t interact much with the town, but we also don’t feel as threatened there.”

“That’s on the way, then,” You said. “I can drop you off before I head to the island.”

“What?” She screeched. “You can’t go to the island! The only way to get on it is by air! It’s surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides, and you’ve got a bad leg! There’s no way!”

“I’ll find a way,” You said, reaching down to rub your leg. You’d limped a little ever since it was broken, but not so much that it hindered your day-to-day life. Though, to be fair, you weren’t exactly climbing trees these days. “Unless you’d like to fly me there.”

She winced. “I’m really grateful for you busting me out of that prison, but if I were spotted flying a human to the island, they’d shoot me out of the sky.”

“It was worth asking,” You replied morosely. “I can take you to your settlement and make sure you get there safely before I go… wherever I go.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” She asked. “As far as my people are concerned, you’re the reason our colony split up.”

“I have to explain myself, then,” You said. “Or at least apologize, for whatever that may be worth.”

It took a week to get to Coleville from Dunmountain, even by carriage. There were off-road inns and shops where you could sleep and resupply. Aashiyana was adamant about sleeping in the trees well away from the eyes of others, still distrustful of people without wings.

Once in Coleville, you paid the carriage-man the rest of his fee and took what little you’d brought with you into the local inn. After checking in, getting your key, and dumping your bags in your room, you went out to where Aashiyana was hiding in the woods. She fluttered down to sit with you on a few rocks.

“It’s not far from here, then?” You asked her.

“No,” She said. “About an hour and a half to fly. Longer walking.”

“Well, I’m not going to stop you from going home, but it is late and I am tired,” You told her. “If you can give me directions, I can find my way there in the morning.”

She shook her head. “I owe you a debt. The least I can do is wait for you.”

You nodded your thanks. “I’m going to buy food. Can I get anything for you?”

She shook her head again. “No, thanks. I haven’t hunted in two weeks and my talons are itching.”

“Have at it, then,” You said with a smile before turning and wending back toward town for a bite and a rest.

The next morning, you met Aashiyana at the place where you’d seen her the night before, and she began to lead you toward her settlement. You’d left your belongings back at the inn, uncertain if you’d be alive at the end of the day to claim them.

“Are you still sure about this?” Aashiyana asked.

“Yes,” You said resolutely. “It’s all I’ve thought about for years. However I’ve wronged your people, it’s my responsibility to atone for it.”

“But you haven’t wronged us,” Aashiyana said. “You said it yourself, you never told anyone about us. You don’t even remember being at the colony.”

“Regardless, my being there put your people at risk and cost the lives of several of you. A price must be paid.”

She frowned. “I don’t think that’s your burden to shoulder.”

“Who else, if not me?”

“Those who set the colony on fire, for one.”

“But I wasn’t there and I don’t know which of the invaders are the perpetrators. Besides, if I hadn’t been careless, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place. This is the best way.”

She sighed in dismay. “If your sure. But I still don’t like it.”

When you arrived, there was an uproar, first a happy one when Aashiyana appeared, and then an angry one when they saw you emerge with her. There was some concern that you had caught her and had forced her to lead you back to the settlement, but Aashiyana was quick to ease their fears.

Once they realized that you weren’t a threat, they were at a loss as to what to do with you. They didn’t exactly have a jail in which to keep you. Their solution was to keep you tied up in a spare storage hut under constant surveillance while they contacted the other colonies for advice. You didn’t argue with their decree.

You were allowed to have visitors, and Aashiyana came to see you often. She brought along others who had met you during the period of time you’d spent in the colony, and they were all happy that you’d recovered well. A couple still weren’t entirely sure if you were telling the truth about your amnesia, however. They tried playing the same games they’d played when you were young in order to jog your memory, but none of it worked. It left you frustrated and the others forlorn.

After a few days, a message came back to the elder of the settlement. She came in to greet and talk with you, the first time she had done so since you had arrived.

“Do you know who I am?” She asked as she entered the dimly lit shed where you were confined. The door closed behind her. She was an elderly woman, her brown wings tattered and her back hunched. She wore no clothes, like most of her kind, and her skin was weathered. Her eyes, the color matching her feathers, were as sharp and shrewd as any judge you’d met.

“No, madam,” You replied. “I’m afraid I don’t. Have we met before? If so, I apologize for my lapse in recall.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, settling on a sack of grain opposite you, her old bones creaking. “You’re either an imbecile, a consummate liar, or… Aashiyana’s tale is true and you do not remember.”

“I don’t,” You said. “I can’t remember what happened after I passed out from the pain. I swear it’s the truth.”

“I’m to understand that you and the young Geyarajan met several times. Is that true?”

“Yes,” You replied. “We met when I was six or so. We were friends for several years.”

“Did he ever tell you where the colony was?”

“No, madam. Not once. We always met in a clearing near my village. He never took me back to the colony, though he did speak of it.”

“Could a man of your village have followed him back?”

“I don’t see how,” You said. “He always flew back after we saw each other. He never returned on foot.”

“Except…” She prodded.

“Except…” You gasped at the realization. “Oh, gods, he must have carried me back to the colony on foot. It’s how they found it!” You threw yourself down at her feet. “I knew it! I knew it was my fault! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

You began to sob. She didn’t attempt to comfort you, but neither did she shake you off. She merely waited as you cried yourself out. Once you were done, she stood up.

“My name is Elder Jaya. We sent word to the other settlements about you. We’ve received word that you are to be brought to a tribunal on the largest, safest settlement on The Beast.”

Your heart thumped. Aashiyana said that’s where Geyarajan was. You barely had an extra thought to lend to the fact that you were going to be put on trial. Well, the outcome would be the same either way. Whether you were found guilty and killed, or if they deemed you innocent, it would change nothing. You had no place to return to.

“I was to assess your credibility before such a thing occurred,” Elder Jaya continued. “If I found you lacking, you were to be killed.”

You gulped and looked up at her from the ground. “How did I fare?”

She considered you with her lips pursed before answering. “Well enough. Aashiyana’s testimony added to the integrity of your claims. Now prepare yourself. We shall be leaving at dawn for Beast Island. It will take most of the day to reach the water.”

“Thank you, Elder,” You said. “For your graciousness.”

“Don’t thank me yet, child,” She said as she made to leave. “I may only have delayed the inevitable.”

The next morning, you were led in chains through the forest to the cliffs. Since you were unable to fly, you would have to be carried across. Thankfully, though you weren’t exactly a dainty thing, your guard was more than strong enough to lift you. Even from the cliffs, you could see a row of figures standing on the island across the water, waiting for your party to arrive.

Aashiyana was with you to give her testimony, as she had done in her home settlement. A few other character witnesses came too, mostly the ones who had befriended you as a child.

Once in the air, you clutched your guard and closed your eyes. Ever since falling from the tree, you’d had a pretty awful fear of falling. The guard was caught off balance by the sudden dead weight of you huddled in your shackles, full fetal position, but was able to reposition you to prevent dropping you from three hundred feet over the water.

You opened your eyes when you felt a thump, signifying that you had landed. You were greeted to the sight of several bows leveling arrows at you. With your heart thudding in your chest, you were set on your feet. The bowmen were all different colors and plumages, and you didn’t recognize any of them.

From behind them, an older man stepped forward with dark grey hair and fur pale grey skin, and blue eyes, though unlike many of the men, his hair was cut short around his ears.

“Do you know who I am?” He asked.

“I…” You throat was suddenly dry. “I assume you’re the elder of the settlement, yes?” As well as you were able being tied up, you bowed carefully. “My best wishes to you. I’m sorry to cause you inconvenience by coming here out of the blue. I’ve come to accept responsibility for the attack on the colony many years ago. Had I been less careless, it might never have happened. You have my sincerest apologies.”

“You think your apology would undo the damage you have caused?”

“No, of course not,” You said, head down piously. “I can only hope to offer my life in an effort to make amends.”

“Hmph,” He grumped, looking you up and down. “We will see what’s to be seen. Put her in the hold for now.”

“She hasn’t eaten since the morning,” Elder Jaya said. “Since she has had the decency to willingly submit to our judgment, the least we can do is feed her.”

“It will be taken care of,” The elder said. “Take her.”

The guard from Kaya’s settlement, in addition to one from Beast Island, escorted you to another makeshift jail made from a reinforced storage shed. Taking prisoners was apparently not a common thing for these people.

This jail had very little light and no windows. The only illumination was from a gap in the bottom of the door. While here, you would not be allowed visitors like you had in Kaya’s settlement. You had no idea how long it would take, what they expected of you, or how to occupy your time. You could count grains, but you couldn’t even see them to do it.

The door opened, and a tray with food was placed on the ground, along with a cup of water. The light blinded you to the point where you couldn’t see the food-bringer, though they did stare at you for a few seconds. Before you could thank them, the door closed again.

God, you wanted a bath. All of your things, your money, your clothes, was left in the inn, probably claimed by the owners now since you hadn’t returned to pick it up. Oh well. If you died, you wouldn’t need it all anyway. You fell into an uneasy sleep on the straw floor of the shed, unhappy dreams waking you from time to time, and you were groggy and sore come morning.

You had pushed the tray and cup back out under the gap in the door the night before, which you assumed had been carved into the door for that purpose since the wood was freshly cut. Despite that, the door opened and your morning meal was delivered in person, but you still couldn’t make out the details of the person handing it off. They left again before you could speak.

“Thank you!” You called through the door. There was no response.

At noon, you were called to the tribunal, which was made up of all the elders of every settlement that had been in the original colony, seven in total. In attendance around the room were many members of the colony plus your character witnesses. Some seemed to recognize you, though you didn’t recall them.

The elder of the Beast Island settlement was the head of the tribunal. “Do you recognize any members of this council?” He asked.

You looked at them all carefully, paying special attention to the ones who seemed to know you, but it sparked no memories.

“No, sir,” You replied.

There was a murmuring among the folk gathered there, and a member of the tribunal, a woman with raven black feathers and dark brown skin, stood from her seat and came closer, inspecting your face.

“You don’t remember me?” She asked.

“No, madam, I apologize, but I don’t,” You replied.

“Hmm,” She hummed. “Lift up your skirt. Let me see your leg.”

“What?” You asked, startled.

“I cared for you when you were brought to the colony. I set and splinted your leg. Let me see it.”

“Oh,” You breathed. You figured it was absurd to be self-conscious in the midst of a people who didn’t even wear clothing, but you still slowly and shyly drew up your skirt and pulled down your legging so that she could inspect your once-broken leg.

“Ah,” She said in a low tone, carefully moving your leg around, bending and stretching it. “It healed well. There’s hardly any scar, though you must walk with a slight limp, yes?”

��Yes, madam,” You said. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course,” She said. She sat back on her haunches and studied your face. “I can’t believe you don’t remember. For such a small child, you certainly could scream like a angry bear.”

You blanched. “I think I’m rather glad I can’t remember that, in truth.”

She laughed a little. “Yes, I suppose you would be. Perhaps the trauma from the pain destroyed your memory of your time with us. It’s not unheard of.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Mari?” The Beast Elder asked.

“Perhaps,” The Raven Elder replied contemplatively. “I’d need to do a further examination before I come to any conclusions.”

“As thorough as ever, I see,” Beast Elder said as Mari returned to her chair.

“There’s a clear way to be sure if her memory is indeed gone, obviously,” One of the others said, a man with speckled brown feathers. “Do a recall spell. That way, if she still protests that she knows nothing, we’ll know she’s lying. We can do nothing until she is willing and capable to tell her story.”

“Very true,” Elder Mari said. “The right to a fair trial does not end with the gandharva, but to all species. She can only defend herself when she knows her whole truth. As it stands now, she can’t speak in her own defense. A recall spell would be the simplest solution.”

“A recall spell?” The Beast Elder said. “No, too involved. It requires a full day and night to cast. And I’m uncertain I have the necessary components to complete it.”

“What precisely is required?” Elder Mari asked. “I’m sure I’d have it in my apothecary. I could go and retrieve the necessary items in less that two days.”

“A vote, then,” Said the speckled elder. “All in favor of performing a recall spell and reconvening once it has been completed?”

The Beast Elder was out-voted five-to-two. He cleared his throat and looked sidelong at a woman in the crowd, who shifted uneasily in her seat.

“Very well,” The Beast Elder said. “I shall compile a list and have it brought to you. Until then, the tribunal is at recess.”

A buzzing of voices erupted around you as you were pulled from your seat and led out of the hall. You could hear Aashiyana’s voice saying to the others, “But we didn’t even get to testify,” before being hushed by Elder Jaya.

You were brought back to your jail and lunch was given to you. You ate numbly, turning the events of the tribunal over in your mind. What exactly would a recall spell entail? Would it hurt? Would you remember things you’d rather have forgotten? More to the point, you’d still had yet to see Gaveshan. He wasn’t at the tribunal. Was he even here? Could Aashiyana have been wrong?

You had nothing to do while in the jail except think. You wondered if this was how the prisoners at the arena felt confined. If so, you felt even more sympathy for them. If you survived this, and somehow got back, you’d liberate all of them if you got the chance.

Sometime mid-afternoon, the door opened and two people walked in. You recognized them as the Beast Elder and the woman he had looked to in the crowd during the tribunal.

“Hello,” You said, attempting to be cordial despite the circumstance. “Am I being summoned?”

“No,” The Beast Elder said. “You truly don’t remember us?”

You were starting to get tired of people asking you that question, but you remained patient. “No, sir. I don’t.”

“My name is Pashanda,” He said. “This is my wife Hemakshi. You’ve met us before.”

“I seem to have met many people I don’t know,” You replied.

“It seems so,” He said, looking at you shrewdly.

His wife was also scrutinizing you closely. She had strange, sharp gold eyes that matched her hair and feathers. Her skin was also a golden color. She was the opposite to her husband’s pale greys and blues. He was cold where she was hot. She had a familiar face, though; you wondered if your memory was beginning to return. She was silent, though it seemed she was aching to get her hands on you. She stepped from foot to foot with restless energy. She kind of frightened you a little.

“The list of components has been given to Elder Mari for retrieval,” Elder Pashanda told you. “When she returns, you will undergo a recall spell. It will take time, and though it will not hurt necessarily, you may feel some discomfort during the procedure.”

“I suspected as much,” You said. “I will submit to any test you give me.”

“We’ll see,” Elder Pashanda said. “We will return later with your dinner. We will bring with us something that may help jog your memory, so that the spell may not be needed.”

“Whatever you think may help,” You replied. “I am at your mercy.”

“Indeed.” Both Elder Pashanda and his wife left.

Around dinnertime, they returned as promised, though they didn’t have the tray with your meal. They stood silently and stared at you with the door ajar, whispering to each other.

“Is there something I need to do?” You asked.

They didn’t answer. Instead, they both stepped aside and Hemakshi opened the door wider. In came the person who had been leaving your meals, only now, in the dim light of sundown, you were able to see them without the sun blinding you to their features. They had warm brown skin but their feathers were a soft heather gray. Their hair, the same color as their wings, fell down their shoulders in ringlets. Their eyes were sharp and golden in color. They were far taller than you remembered, and more muscular, but still as lithe and graceful as they had been when last you’d seen them.

Your hands were still tied, and coupled with the fact that your eyes were glued to the newcomer’s face, it took an awkward minute to get to your feet.

“Rajan,” You breathed, reaching out for him. “Rajan, it’s you! I found you!”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Harpy #Gandharva #Monster Boyfriend #Reader Insert

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paodequeijofeliz-blog · 4 years

Text

Let me tell you a good story

Bloodbound Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place after Bloodbound 3, here I’m recreating how Kamilah and MC would meet if she had never gone to Raines Corporation right away.

Summary: Thirty years after meeting Annie for the first time, Kamilah is now a wife and a mother. During a regular family dinner, she decides to tell her daughter and their new son-in-law the story of how she fell in love with Annie after an unusual meeting through the hallways of NYU.

Warnings: there is just a little bit of smut talking in the end. A little. Barely.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Let me tell you a good story - Part 7 (Finale)

March 2nd, 2048

“Okay, okay. Shoo everyone. So. Where was I?” Anna scratched her eyes again. “Right, at the gala. After breakfast, Kamilah asked me to stay at the Penthouse, cause’ it would be easier to just get dressed there… Which lead to a day of not working so much, no details needed, of course. Until we finally showered and got ready to go.”

“Me in forty minutes. She…” Kamilah poked her wife’s head. “Took three hours.”

“Yeah, she still does that” Lysia sighed in confirmation, remembering how her mother took ages to get ready for the daughter’s graduation. “That’s why you’re getting dressed way before me, when the wedding comes.”

“I wanted to look pretty, ok? It’s not every day that a smoking hot rich brilliant woman ask you to be her date.” Anna defended herself, fighting a yawn. “The part you want to hear happened after we were already there…”

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

September 16th, 2018

The gala was being held at one of those rich, huge, and fancy hotels, worldwide known, that Anna never really memorized the name.

“Baccarat Hotel, darling. In Manhattan.” Kamilah added, but her piece of information was dismissed by a “Whatever Rich Hotel, doesn’t make a difference” response from her wife.

The event was set to start at 8 pm, so it was already dark outside. The city lights and camera flashes glowed on Annie’s dress when she stepped out of the limousine. That outfit was carefully selected to match Kamilah’s. A dark shade of blue with tiny crystals, like the night sky, making the historian’s smooth skin look like a dangerous temptation. The back was barely covered, and even though it seemed to hug her tight on the breasts, it got looser as it approached the hem, floating and following the woman’s movement. It was beautiful, indeed, but nothing compared to her date.

Kamilah was so absolutely gorgeous, Anna couldn’t help staring at her through the entire ride there, and almost lost her breath when she saw that wonderful goddess looking over the shoulders and smiling invitingly. It was the most beautiful vision in the world.

“Darling, what a coincidence, I was thinking the same thing when I saw you that night” the Egyptian laughed, a hint of red flashing through her eyes, “And you’re still the most beautiful vision in the world, with or without a Versace’s dress on you.”

“I do remember you saying ‘without’ was even better in the end of the night…” Anna looked up to meet Kamilah’s gaze, almost loosing track of the story. “So…”

Kamilah’s gown was a silver provocative mermaid cut with a deep neckline and a set of elegant sapphire jewels. They were the night and the stars, and what the Egyptian didn’t know by them, is that one day, years ahead, Annie would hold her hands on the altar an make vowels to ‘always support you, as the night sky supports the moon and the stars, for you are and always will be my entire galaxy’.

Back then, the only thing they were both aware was the intense feeling pulling them together through the event. For the first couple hours, their sole attention was focused on each other. Both danced, drank and laughed like they were the only two people standing on that ballroom. And even though they didn’t kiss, trying hard to maintain the professional boundaries intact (at least in front of the rest of the employees), it was evident to everyone that something was going on. After the sixth waltz, Kamilah felt this urge to just lean in and kiss the woman she had on her arms, sinking in desire, but Adrian interrupted them right on time.

“Excuse me.” He touched Anna on her elbow, capturing the historian’s attention. “Maybe it’s time for you two to blend in. Why don’t we greet the volunteers who are going to be working in the basement with you next month, Ms. Mali? Kamilah needs to have a moment with the senator as well.”

“Of course, Mr. Raines.”

With a last sparkling smile, Annie left her date and followed Adrian’s lead to a group of people by the bar. They weren’t really interesting to talk to and the conversation flew in circles, getting so dull that soon enough she saw herself drinking more champagne than the recommended. At some point, the main topic became Ms. Sayeed. One of them, Mr. Paul Lynn, was excited to work for her.

“Hold your horses, pal. She can be such a pain in the ass.” Annie finally said something, an empty glass on her hands.

“Really? People said she’s a little bit tough, maybe demanding, but a nice person in general.” Paul landed his eyes beyond Annie’s shoulder, quickly composing himself, but the historian didn’t notice this subtle change of posture.

“Good evening. Am I interrupting?” Kamilah’s voice showed up right beside Anna, her gorgeous features monopolizing every single eye on that group.

“Not at all. We were just chatting about work, how’s the project, the documents, the boss…” Annie also didn’t see how Paul and the others got tense over her words, since she could only stare at the one in silver beside her. “They want to meet Ms. Sayeed soon… But as I was saying, don’t get your hopes up, Paul. Besides being annoying, she’s never around. Never. Definitely not checking on us down in the basement.”

“Uhm… Well, I’m sure Ms. Sayeed probably has too many things to do… Right?” said the tall blond woman named Leah, a new archivist there. Her eyes flickered between Anna and Kamilah, unsure what to think of it.

“I seriously doubt it.”

“Why do you think that?” the Egyptian crossed her arms, dropping an amused glare over Anna. That was getting interesting.

“Well, come on, if this is so important to her, why haven’t I met the woman yet? She doesn’t even sign my paycheck, Mr. Raines does it. I bet she’s somewhere fancy right now, having a hot bath and laughing at the poor souls that have to deal with her freakin’ thousand emails every day.” Anna sighed tiredly, too much champagne in her system. “As I said before, a real pain in the ass. When you think you made progress, there comes Ms. Sayeed with a new order. I swear, there are days my phone buzzes so much, seems like it’s trying to jump from my pocket and commit suicide. That’s her thing, you know? Boss around. Not even a polite ‘thank you for working overtime today’. So yeah, the project is great, Mr. Raines and Kamilah here are both amazing, but throw away any ideas of bonding with Ms. Sayeed.”

“Ms. Sayeed, they’re ready for your speech.” They were interrupted by an elegant man in tuxedo who offered his hand to walk the Egyptian to the stage.

At first, Annie frowned in confusion.

Then, her eyes met Kamilah’s and all the pieces finally connected correctly. The company, the situation, when and how they met, what she said that night, why Ms. Sayeed was never introduced to her…

“Holy shit, I’m fucking the real boss.”

“You’re WHAT?” Paul dropped his chin.

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

“OH. NO.” Drake also dropped his chin, just like Paul did so many years ago. “OH NO, OH NO, OH NO”

“I was mad at her!” Annie tried to defend herself, cheeks getting redder by the second. “All I knew was that Ms. Sayeed would only text me orders. Never said ‘hi’, or something nice. Because the one who was saying something nice, in my understanding, was a different person!”

Kamilah couldn’t comment on it, since she was bursting into laughs. No story could make her laugh so much like that one. Slowly, she started to steady her breath, a hand placed over her own chest. By the window, Adrian was also cleaning the tears out of his eyes.

“Come on, mommy…” Lysia smiled kindly at the blushed woman on the floor. “Don’t mind them. We all love you the way you are. Continue the story.”

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

Anna had never wanted to burry herself on the ground that much in her entire life. She didn’t even hear the speech, the chock written all over the Brazilian’s face. Kamilah looked gorgeous under the spotlight, confident, professional. Surely was saying some pretty intelligent stuff too. Annie just couldn’t understand it, since she was momentarily deaf. Petrified. Half a glass of champagne still lingering between her fingers. At some point, the speech was over, but the historian only realized it when Adrian touched her back and whispered a request. She heard it, but apparently forgot every single word in English.

“Quê?”

“Dance with me, will you?” He asked again while gently leading her away from the group. Anna only realized what was happening by the time his hand held her waist and helped her to move around at the sound of a slow song. “Hey. Are you ok? Can you hear me?”

She nodded, not risking saying anything.

“Don’t beat yourself so much, Kamilah could’ve told you the truth long ago, but she was having too much fun with this little secret.”

“Huh.” That’s all her voice was able to project.

Adrian muffled a short laugh, bringing her closer and waltzing away from the others. In a couple minutes, they had escaped those curious eyes, approaching the corner of the ballroom, where he slowly diminished the steps to end the dance. “Now, I believe here you’re safe.”

Annie’s gaze wondered around, still lost in her thoughts. She only noticed Adrian had left when Kamilah’s voice echoed sensually by her ear, making the historian shiver and tense like a statue. Her eyes lifted to find brown ones intensely glaring at her.

“Good evening, Ms. Mali. My name is Kamilah Sayeed, and I’m the CEO of Ahmanet Financial. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman who’s leading my most important project. It has come to my attention that you have a few issues towards me and my… Bossy manners. However, it could only be a mistake since last night you seemed really comfortable following my orders in the bedroom.”

Anna bit her lower lip, still quiet.

“Oh, no words? Not a single complaint? What a pity, I was so longing to meet the dazzling historian who managed to criticize my thesis with no mercy.” Kamilah’s fingernails went down Annie’s back smoothly, not leaving marks behind. “Why don’t you come with me to the suite upstairs so we can discuss how many ways am I able to be a real pain in your ass?”

Without even waiting to hear a response, she slapped the historian’s butt before heading to the service elevator with a shining room card sticking out of her neckline.

Anna followed. Hypnotized. No questions asked.

Never again she complained about being bossed around by Ms. Sayeed.

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

“Aw, there’s a happy ending.” Drake’s arms were involving his fiancée’s waist, tightening. “So, maybe you were right, baby… They do have a much better love story.”

“Oh, but we’re not done, there is way more. A couple days after that, something terrible happened with Lily, so much changed, and I…” Annie scratcher her eyes for the third time.

That was it. Kamilah leaned down to take the woman in her arms. “It’s time to go to sleep, my love. We’ll tell them the rest on our next dinner, I promise.”

Anna didn’t even have the strength to resist. She was terribly tired, and her wife’s embrace was too damn comfortable. “Fiiiiiiine… Tomorrow night…”.

Adrian smiled fondly at them. With a silently nod and a good night kiss on Lysia’s forehead, he left to his own apartment. Drake and Lysia went to the guest room after cleaning up the table, while Kamilah slowly got up and took Annie into bed.

The historian mumbled something incomprehensible when was lay there.

“What, darling?” the vampire leaned down to hear it better, spooning Anna by instinct.

“I love you, Mrs. Sayeed.”

Kamilah smiled, turning her face to place a kiss on the girl’s temple.

“I love you too, Mrs. Sayeed.”

#kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bb kamilah #choices kamilah #choices: bb #choices: stories you play #I'm so sorry if I wrote something wrongly I keep making a huge confusion #all the time I exchange then for them #somehow there was a part I exchanged glare for glass #and I am an English teacher #who the hell thought it was a good idea to let me teach???#call my boss and tell him I suck please

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dudeandduchess · 4 years

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Rating/Genre: Slight NSFW, Modern AU Characters: Rengoku Shinjurō x F!Reader, Mentions of Sanemi x F!Reader Chapters: 1/10 Summary: Shinjurō and (Y/n) are in a D/s arrangement, but he wants more so he tries to lay the world at her feet in the hopes that she would say yes to being his. Unfortunately, (Y/n) shoots him down every time, since she’s not swayed by his money or influence.But Shinjurō is more determined than ever to keep her, so he will stop at nothing to keep her for himself. Warnings: Daddy Kink, Language, D/s Themes

NOTE: Ooh! Finally, I finished the first chapter. Don’t worry if this leaves a lot of questions unanswered, bbys. All of them will be answered soon enough. Ratings will also change per chapter bc what’s a fic without smut? Lmao. Hope y’all like it. 💜✨

***

Drab couldn’t even begin to describe just how mind-numbingly boring dinner was for (Y/n). Her attention was clearly elsewhere, with her chin propped against the backs of her fingers, while her left arm perched itself on the armrest of the chair she was in.

If she had any say in things, she would have rather been somewhere else but at that dinner table; preferably beneath a domineering man with a fiery mane of hair, who went by the name Rengoku Shinjurō.

But, as it was, she had to put her family affairs first— if only to keep their suspicions from arising.

She had already blown their invitations off by pretending to have either been stuck with taping her TV series, or to have been tied up at one of her races. When, in truth, she had been spending every moment she could with her older lover.

If her uppity family found out just who she had been seeing for the past year, then she would be disowned. No questions asked. And she didn’t want that— no matter how overbearing and irritating they were on most days.

She couldn’t fathom living in a world where she wasn’t being subjected to her father’s repetitive life lessons, or her brothers’ dumb conversation starters. Nor could she imagine never talking to her mother ever again.

Sure, she would have her billionaire lover, but that was different.

“Do you have any new races coming up, (Y/n)?” (L/n) Asahi— her father and the Chairman of the (L/n) Group— asked before polishing off the remnants of his whiskey in one go. He used to be completely against her racing hobby, until her brothers had brought him to one of her races and made him realize just how well she could handle herself.

The young woman lifted her head from her hand and blinked herself awake— which earned a round of chuckles from her two older brothers. She rolled her eyes at their childish reactions, before turning to their father with a smile. “I have one this weekend. If you want, I can reserve a suite for you.”

“I’ll be bringing a potential investor, if that’s alright,” Asahi answered with a mirthful chuckle, then turned to look at his eldest son.

“Are you talking about the CEO for the Rengoku Group?” Akira— the eldest of the three (L/n) siblings— piped up enthusiastically; as if he were talking about a messiah instead of the man whom his sister knew all too well.

Immediately, (Y/n) felt her heart stop in her chest at the very mention of Shinjurō’s string of companies. When they first began their arrangement, they had agreed to stay away from each other’s businesses as much as possible, so she didn’t know what he was going on about with contacting her family.

She didn’t want anyone knowing about her and Shinjurō, not because she was ashamed of him, but because she didn’t want their relationship to taper out once a lot of people knew about them and felt the need to share their unwarranted opinions. That, and also because of the fact that her family would be severely against their relationship— mostly because of the twelve-year age gap between them.

Most people got married with much larger age gaps, but her family was cut from a different cloth. Her mother would have a heart attack if she ever found out that she had even secretly purchased a suburban home with him, which served as their little hideaway.

“The very man himself. He seemed interested in partnering up with our automotive parts company, since he’s trying to dabble in the automobile industry. Last we spoke, he mentioned using artificial intelligence…”

(Y/n)’s head felt like it was going to explode, as her pulse skyrocketed. All she could think about was how Shinjurō was blatantly breaking their agreement to never get mixed up with each other’s professional lives.

Because, whether he liked it or not, she was still involved with her family’s companies. He also knew that the less connections between them that the press could get their hands, the better; since that would make it easier for her PR team to sweep things under the rug, if the need ever arose.

But there he was putting both of their reputations in jeopardy.

Hell, to keep their reputations clean was the sole reason why they had bought a house in the middle of Saitama in the first place. Hiding in plain sight was the name of the game, and they were winning; they had been for a year.

“He did talk about that. Are you going to get one of those smart cars for yourself, (Y/n)?” Kenji— the second eldest child of the (L/n)s— asked his sister. It stood to reason that he would ask her, as she had a penchant for trying out the latest cars in the market, but (Y/n) would be damned if she didn’t admit that the simple question made her heart race at the thought of him knowing.

She didn’t even want to imagine what the tabloid headlines would be like if the whole world found out about her and Shinjurō. Rather, if they found out what they did in their spare time.

“I’m not too sure. I’ll have to look into it, nii-san,” The young woman answered with a slight grin. It felt so forced to her, but she had to commend her acting skills for allowing her to fake her way through most of her social blunders.

After all, she banked on those acting skills on an almost daily basis.

“If they’re partnering up with us, then I’m sure it will be to your taste,” Akira piped up— so self-assured about their own company’s products that it made (Y/n) actually chuckle. “You’ll finally replace that Panamera you’ve had since forever.”

That made the (L/n) heiress quirk an eyebrow at her older brother, before curling her upper lip in blatant distaste at his words. She loved her brothers, she really did, but sometimes their heads got all the way up in their asses. “Unlike you, I don’t treat my cars like I do my lovers. How long did the last one last again? Three days?”

“At least I have someone to warm my bed whenever I want. How long has it been since Shinazugawa, huh? A year and a half? And you’re still not over him?” Akira shot back with a sneer; which had all four pairs of eyes narrowing at him for even bringing that up.

“How dare you mention that man’s name in this house, Akira?” (L/n) Ichika— the matriarch of the family— hissed at her eldest child. She looked so livid as she gripped the stem of her wine glass tighter than was necessary.

It was safe to say that no one in her family was fond of the bad boy racer whom had monopolized (Y/n)’s time and attention for the better part of three years. The worst part was that he had been absolutely perfect to her; the perfect gentleman, the perfect lover, the perfect partner— until it was time for them to actually settle down.

He chickened out four months before their wedding, profusely apologizing to (Y/n) and her family for the scandal that he had inadvertently rained down upon all of them. Only to have him be banned from ever setting foot on any of the (L/n) Group’s personal and professional properties.

No matter how shameful that was for her, (Y/n) still understood where Sanemi was coming from. He wasn’t used to always being in the spotlight, and being with her as her lover had put him in the very center of all of it.

And, had he become her husband, things could have only gotten worse for him— who wanted to keep his life as private as possible.

“Suck my cock, Akira,” (Y/n) spat at her brother, before flipping him the finger. She wanted so badly to introduce him to Shinjurō— whom he considered a god amongst men— if only to shut him up, but she held herself back.

Because doing so would ruin her carefully crafted plans to hide their relationship. If she could hide it forever, then she would; because to let others know about them would be like inviting the whole world to view her life as a spectacle, and she didn’t want that.

If (Y/n) had a choice, she would rather keep Shinjurō as her dirty little secret if it meant that she would be his for longer. Because, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she wasn’t ready to lose him.

Maybe she never would be. But she still had to be prepared for when he got tired of her, so she always had to be on guard whenever they were together.

She didn’t want another Sanemi, after all.

Just as Akira was about to reply, the shrill ringing of (Y/n)’s phone cut through the tense air. Her eyes darted down to the phone in her lap, as she had been texting Shinjurō earlier— and forgot to reply— and bit down on her bottom lip when his name on her phone flashed across the screen.

Incoming Call: Daddy.

“Excuse me. It’s an important call.” (Y/n) didn’t even wait for any of her family members to answer. She merely got up from her seat and tossed her napkin beside her barely touched frozen raspberry soufflé.

Immediately, she hightailed it to the bathroom across the dining room; unmindful of the incessant clicking of her heels against the marble flooring. Normally, she would have tried to get there with as much poise and grace that she could muster, but time was of the essence, as Shinjurō was not a very patient man.

The moment she locked the door behind her, she answered the call and pressed her phone up to her ear. “Hello, daddy.”

Should either of her brothers had heard her, they would have laughed— because the soft and affectionate tone that came from (Y/n) wasn’t commonly heard from her outside her movies and shows. If anything, they heard her curse at them more times than they could ever count.

“Hi, baby. Enjoying your dinner?” Shinjurō’s smooth timbre practically caressed her senses over the phone, and she had to lick her suddenly dry lips before swallowing thickly.

“I’d rather have your cock for dinner,” She purred quietly, then moved to squeeze her thighs together at the surge of heat that pooled between her legs. Just the thought of being in bed with him— with his cock in her mouth— had her feeling all sorts of needy. “But you’re still in Shanghai.”

The older man chuckled at that, and the sound of rustling could be heard as he laid on the king sized bed in his and (Y/n)’s bedroom. “My business deals got closed early, so I’m home now. I’ll see you in a bit, baby.”

By home, he meant their house in Saitama— as he’d always meant— and that made the young woman smile, as her heart practically leapt with excitement at the prospect of being with her lover once more.

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll be home soon.”

Masterlist

#rengoku shinjuro #rengoku shinjuro x reader #shinjuro rengoku #kny x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #multichapter #jen writes

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ravenforce · 4 years

Text

Manhattan 5

Word Count: 3891

Pairing: Lou Miller x Fem!Reader, Background Platonic Avengers x Fem!Reader

Warning/Rating: Fluff because the world is dark and scary right now. I need fluff. You need fluff.

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who likes, and follows this story. You guys are amazing. Please leave your reactions, bloody or otherwise, on the comment section. My inbox is open too if you’d like to pop by. Oh, and please note the ff:

1. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.

2. I’m on a roll right now, since I have time while the city is on lockdown. I hope you guys are staying home and keeping up with protocols. Stay home, read fics. You’re helping your health workers that way. If you’re struggling to see the light, or experiencing anxiety about this pandemic and need someone to vent to, my inbox is open. Given probably time difference, please allow some time for me to reply. If you want to, drop me your Whatsapp, Telegram or wherever I can reach you faster. Be safe. xx

Manhattan Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

***

Monday - A week before the Art Week

Most of the preparations for the event are in order with minor details needs ironing out. So, Debbie moved the regular Monday morning meeting to late afternoon since everyone has been working at full capacity the last few weeks. Assigning you to spearhead not only the artists’ acquisition but also the whole opening night was one of the best decisions Debbie ever made. You were hands down one of the most meticulous floor directors she’s ever met, and she has met so many. So it only came as a slight surprise to her when they came in for the meeting to see you snoozing on the conference table.

“What the?” Nine complained when she bumped into Debbie’s back as she loiters at the entrance of the conference room.

“What’s the hold-up?” Daphne said peering behind Constance. Debbie shushed them and continued inside.

Nine laughed as silently as she could when she saw you sleeping on the table, surrounded by different things: your laptop with Nine’s security plan open, the guest list submitted by Charlie and Agatha, the final menu from Tammy, the brochure design mock-up from Daphne and a cold-brew. Nine pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of you with a chuckle.

Lou smacked her softly with a newspaper in the head. Nine glared even though it didn’t hurt.

“She must have been here all morning,” Lou surmised as she looks at your current predicament. Debbie looked at you and then at her best friend.

“I think you should take her home,” she said. She can’t have you burning out before the opening night and that’s in a week time. Lou nodded before she sat beside you and woke you up. It was a testament on how tired you must have been because you were pliant to Lou stirring you out of the room and into her car like you were sleep-walking.

“Uhm, Debbie,” Charlie said as he tries to organize your table. Debbie asked what it is.

***

“She finished everything,” Agatha finished for him.

Charlie nodded. “This one says the security plan is approved, and she finished installing the CCTV. There’s no more blind spot at the back patio,” He read the post-it on Nine’s laptop.

“This one says approved,” Agatha said while showing Tammy’s final menu. “This one says, needs everyone’s signature.” It’s the catering contract they’ve all been sitting on for weeks now.

Everyone then started to pick up post-it notes stuck on their tables.

��Mock-up’s all good and approved. I’ll send it to the printer right now,” Daphne sing-song.

“Mine said, ‘you rock’,” Constance read grinning. Some of them didn’t get notes on their work since they are already done and in order. So you just left them encouraging notes, which they showed off to everybody. Lou left you for a moment in her car to get her laptop to find her friends making such a ruckus because of some post-it notes.

“Lou, did you get a note?” Amita asked smiling broadly at the blonde.

“No.” No one believed her. Especially since Nine could see that Lou’s holding a piece of orange paper on her back. She swiped it out of Lou’s hand.

“Aww, look at that,” Nine says before showing everybody your drawing of a star with a small quote written at the bottom of it.

“Nine, please don’t,” Lou begged before trying to swipe it again from her friend but Constance and Amita were hugging her in place, chanting read it, read it.

“I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we’re from the same star,” Nine read. Lou groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“That’s enough,” Rose swiped the paper out of Nine’s and gave it back to Lou. “That’s sweet. Now, aren’t you supposed to be taking one awesome girl home?”

Lou nodded her thanks, picked her laptop up and gave Nine the finger with a smile before leaving the room. Debbie then asked them to settle down.

***

“And here I thought Ocean’s workaholic,” Daphne teased just as everyone settled down. Debbie playfully rolled her eyes.

“I’m not workaholic. I’m just…” Debbie tried to defend her but struggled to find a word to describe herself.

“A control freak?” Constance teased while typing away in her computer. Debbie threw an eraser on her head that sent everyone laughing.

“Just admit it, you and Y/N are the same,” Tammy joined in. “That’s why they get along well.”

Debbie chuckled. “Like I’m the only one.”

The truth is everyone gets along with you, which isn’t a problem except for Lou. Since then, everyone seems to be trying to monopolize you at work while she’s away to do PR work with Debbie outside of the office. Causing you two to barely see each other in the office, or hang out after work.

That’s the last time Lou was able to spend time with you was two weeks ago. When you showed up on her front door at midnight on a Friday night asking if she could let you crash. You were so tired you fell asleep instantly the moment she pulled you in her arms.

***

Tuesday

The sun was high in the sky when you woke up Tuesday. You raised your arm to look at your smartwatch. It reads at 11 o’clock. You bolted upright and rolled out of bed in your haste to go shower. You were halfway towards the bathroom when you stopped on your tracks.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Lou’s teasing voice sounded behind you.

You turned to look at her, and then around the room. You have no recollection of coming to her place at all. The last that you can remember was coming in at work early to go over what needs your approval and whatnot. You also remember finishing them earlier than you expected, so you decided to take a power nap. Everyone was supposed to arrive after lunch anyway, you’d have sufficient time for a nap, and to clean up before the meeting starts.

“How did I get here?” you asked confused.

“I took you home,” Lou said before opening the newspaper in front of her again to cover her face. She thinks you look sinful wearing only your underwear and her huge ACDC shirt. “You know sleeping on the job is unbecoming for you.”

Shit, you thought. “I’m sorry, I was just tired. It wouldn’t happen again, I promise.”

“It wouldn’t because Debbie is…”

“Is firing me?” you gasped. Lou looked at you over the rim of her newspaper then she folded it and put it neatly back on the table.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, love,” she said smiling. “Debbie’s not firing you but she’s taking charge from here on out.”

“But why?” you asked before sitting down next to your lover on the dining table.

“Because you’ve done enough,” she said before putting waffles on your plate. “You did very well, love but now you’ll have to let the rest of us finish the job. That’s what it means to work in a team.”

You frowned at the delicious looking waffle. Lou is absolutely shit in the kitchen but she makes amazing breakfast. She poured you a hefty amount of coffee too on your favourite mug.

“Okay,” you conceded. Lou smiled as she watches you eat your food quietly. If she’s right, it’ll take a little bit of time before you can truly be okay with Debbie’s decision. Control is really hard to let go of, especially if you specifically built a life in which you have all of it.

“Oh, and you’re on house arrest for today,” Lou said cheerfully. She was so delighted when Debbie called her early in the morning to tell her that you’re not allowed to come into work for the day.

“Don’t sound so happy. She’s not to partake on any strenuous activities for the day that includes sex,” Debbie said seriously over the phone.

“Not even if she bottom?” Lou tried to reason out. Debbie laughed on the other line before yelling no and hanging up.

Nonetheless, Lou’s happy. Finally, after two weeks, she’s going to be able to have your undivided attention. She loathes to admit it but it’s not just about the sex anymore. She truly loves your company, even if all you two could do was watch Netflix and sleep.

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” you grumbled with a pout. Lou laughed, it would have been effective if you don’t have waffle sauce on your face. She reached over and wiped it before putting her finger on her mouth.

“Don’t look so glum, baby,” Lou said. “Don’t you want to stay here with me?”

***

Wednesday

You and Lou arrived at work a little late than your usual time in. Thanks to Lou jumping in the shower with you, and positively making shower longer than necessary. If you know what it means. When you arrived at the gallery, Tammy was just serving the brunch she made for everyone.

“Y/N!” she yelled the moment she saw you. You smiled at the woman. For you, Tammy’s one of your closest friends at work. She sweet, funny, and she takes care of everyone. Only Lou thinks that Tammy’s taking extra care with you.

“Hey Tams,” you said as Tammy rubbed her face against your cheeks. Lou gritted her teeth.

She was in a bloody good mood when you two arrived especially since she got to spend a whole day with you, and got to wake up next to you again earlier. It was the kind of morning where she feels like she can conquer the world. Now, not so much. Now, she thinks she can murder a blonde.

“Sit,” Tammy said after forcing you to sit next to Nine who paused her eating to give you a kiss on the cheek too. “Here, I made these especially for you.”

“Ah, Tams. You didn’t have to but thank you,” you said as you look down on the special food, packed just for you. Debbie, Daphne, and Rose watched the scene unfold as well as Lou seething.

“Hey! Why does Y/N’s food always different?” Constance asked after catching a peak of your food. Tammy laughed along with everyone else.

“Ah! I know, I know!” Amita yelled before guessing. “Is it because Lou probably fed her take out all day yesterday?”

“Exactly, Y/N deserve home-cooked meals,” Tammy said before sitting down next to you. Lou schooled her face, sighed in an attempt to reign in her rising temper. It’s too early to engage. She decides to be the bigger person even though she hates it. Just because she can’t cook to save a life doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve you. Right?

***

Thursday

“Tell your girlfriend to take her hands off my Y/N,” Lou whispered beside Debbie as they watch Daphne talk to you about the printed collateral.

“Your Y/N?” Debbie asked softly. “Did you finally grew the balls to actually put a label on what you two are doing?”

“No. Labels are for clothes.” Lou frowned deeper as she continues to watch Daphne gripping your biceps as she laughs animatedly at something you said. Debbie chuckled softly as she watches Lou continuously fuming beside her, while you remained oblivious to her girlfriend’s teasing.

“Stop making that face. You know you’re only giving her ammunition,” Debbie said laughing before walking towards you. Daphne caught Lou’s eye from across the room and winked.

***

Friday

Her friend tested her patience all week long by being overly tactile, and flirty with you. It didn’t help that you were too busy and too oblivious to their advances. Not that she thinks her friends are truly competition but still. She likes to think that you’re hers and hers alone but Debbie’s right; you’re not. Not yet at least.

She was looking forward to today because she wanted to spend the weekend before the art opening on Monday together. She planned to stay the night in your apartment, call for delivery, and maybe catch up on some Netflix shows you two are watching. She plans to take you out to Coney Island for some R&R under the sun the next morning. She thinks you’re losing colour by being in the gallery too much but all her plans were foiled when she bumped into you in the hallway going to your door.

“Lou?” you asked while fixing the strap of your shoulder bag. You’re wearing a tight black dress, black knee-high boots, and nude overcoat. “Did we have plans?”

“No, I was just coming to see if you wanted to hang out,” she confessed reluctantly. “But you seem like you already had one.”

“Sorry. I already promise I’ll go out with Nat and Carol tonight.”

Lou’s face fell. “Oh,” is all she said before she nodded and took a step backwards. “Okay. Have fun.”

She tried to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes like it usually did when you know she’s genuinely happy. You’re about to tell her that you can see her tomorrow but Lou nodded at you one more time before she power-walked away from you.

***

It’s almost midnight and you’re about your third drink when Maria plopped down next to you at your table in the club. You kept your eyes on the dance floor to keep an eye out as Nat, Carol, and Wanda continued dancing to an upbeat song.

“Refill?” Maria asked leaning against you so she doesn’t have to shout.

“No, thank you, bubba,” you answered before looking at your sweaty, beautiful best friend. You wiped the sweat on her eyebrow. “I think I’m heading out.”

Nat, Carol, and Wanda heard it as they reach your table. “Already?” Wanda yelled before pouting and plopping down way too close to Maria to be classified as just friends.

“Come on, Cinderella. Stay for another hour,” Carol begged while doing her best impression of puppy eyes.

”Let her go,” Nat said as she offered her hand to you to help you out of the booth. “Big day on Monday. She needs all the rest she can get.”

You held Nat’s hand even after she pulled you out. “Thank you,” you said smiling broadly.

“What?” Nat asked when she noticed you smiling. You just shook your head and if it was possible smiled wider at the redhead.

You were just elated that complicated histories aside, you all found a more solid ground to stand on now. You’re happy that Nat and Carol are finally together. If you’re being honest, they look so much better standing hand-in-hand than glaring at each other like before. Maria and Wanda isn’t something you foresee but nonetheless, you can breathe better knowing that your best friend found a good girl to spend her days with. Not that they have admitted to dating yet.

“Thank you for coming out tonight.” Nat pulled you in a hug on the sidewalk while waiting for your Uber. Carol, Wanda, and Maria joined in too.

“Shut up, I like fifth wheeling with you guys.”

Nat and Carol laughed while Maria and Wanda blushed profusely.

“Tell me you’ll be there on Monday, please.”

Maria tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

It’s midnight when Lou and Debbie reached the bottom of the bottle of red wine she brought with her. Lou called her best friend after fleeing your apartment, and thankfully Daphne had plans with Tammy and Rose to go shopping that freed Debbie schedule.

“I regret asking you to come here,” Lou complained half drunk. “All you did was tease me. Very unhelpful.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Debbie said laughing.

“I was trying to surprise her.”

“Look how that worked out for you,” Debbie deadpanned. Before Lou can answer though, there was a knock on her door. Debbie looked at the blonde but she only shrugged and stood up.

“Whoever it is, just turn them away. I’m not in the mood,” Lou said while pulling her shirt over her head. “I’m gonna shower and head to bed after.”

Debbie was left to open the door. She didn’t know who looked more surprise when she did, her or you. None of Lou’s ex-lovers or ex-girlfriend ever knew where she lives. Not even Therese and that says something. Therese was one of the longest relationships Lou ever kept yet the woman never truly knew where Lou lives.

Where does Lou fuck her women, you ask? Well, a professional fuckboy like Lou keeps a separate apartment across town where she brings her women. Yet there you were, in the flesh, standing outside her best friend’s sanctuary.

“Hey boss,” you greeted, cheeks a little flush from the wind outside and the alcohol in your system.

Debbie pulled the door open wider to let you in. You thank her while walking directly to the living room, and placing your discarded coat on the recliner. Proving to Debbie her assumption that it is not indeed your first time there. When you turned towards her, she was already putting her coat on. You couldn’t stop yourself from cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Lou’s in the shower trying to wash away her bad mood,” Debbie said smiling. “Good luck.” Then she’s out.

***

“Debs, can we call Daphne and tell her you’re sleeping over?” Lou asked while walking directly to her open kitchen to grab some water. She completely missed the silence in the room and the familiar coat hanging on her recliner.

“Debbie went home already.”

Lou nearly shattered the glass on her hand in her surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

“Nope, just me,” you said smiling at her. She didn’t return it. Instead, she turned around and drunk another glass of water.

“What are you doing here?” Lou asked, voice is a little distant and detaches even after noticing that you’re sitting on your side of the bed and wearing one of her pyjamas that are too long for you. She flicked the light switch off, bathing the room in darkness to prevent you from seeing her smile.

“I’m sleeping over.”

Bold of you to assume you can after ditching me for Nat and Carol, she thought bitterly. Yet she didn’t say it. She asked a question instead.

“What happened to your date?”

You laughed, aggravating her a little further. “It’s not a date, Odinson.”

“Right.” She sunk down on the mattress and turned her back on you. You curled yourself on her back immediately and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder.

“It’s not a date, Lou. If anything I was fifth wheeling. Maria and Wanda were there too, and I’m 100% sure those two are banging,” you explained excitedly.

Lou visibly relaxes with that information. She turned on her back to look at you but before she can say anything, you surged forward and kissed her. She pulled you on top of her, so she could kiss you properly and she did. Your head was becoming heady from the alcohol you consumed at the club, and the way Lou’s mouth tasted like wine and home.

“Wow,” you said after the need for air took over.

Lou has one of her hand cupping your jaw, her finger tracing the shape of your mouth. The other’s gliding down your neck, skimming across your chest and breast and moving slowly behind your back. She can feel the heat of your core against her abdomen. She guided your waist to start grinding against her abs, you both groaned at the action.

“Ah! Fuck,” you moaned. She kissed you again, both hands on your waist now. She wants your underwear off so she could feel you skin-to-skin but she’s too far out to take it off you.

“Baby,” she whispered against your lips. You smiled at her.

“You kiss better when you’re jealous.”

Lou gasped and halted your moment at once. “What do you mean I kiss better? Also, me? Jealous? Of who?”

You laughed. “Ah, let's see. Tammy, Daphne, Nat, Carol? The list goes on.”

Lou pouted before reversing your position in the bed in one swift motion. She looked down at you before she started pulling your underwear off of you. “Okay, okay. I was jealous,” she admitted. “Can you blame me? Everyone just wants you.”

You sat up and helped her pull her t-shirt off. If you’re gonna be naked, she has to. Especially since nothing beats the view of her abs, illuminated only by the city lights outside.

“Well, I only want you,” you admitted before pulling her on the bed with you.

Taglist: @kaytoopio @marvelfansince08love @marvelb00kwolf @shycucumbersandwich @subject7creed @inkstainedhandsofgold

#avengers crossover #avengers x oceans 8 #avengers x reader #avengers x oceans 8 crossover #avengers imagine #oceans 8 imagine #lou miller x reader #cate blanchett x reader #lou miller #cate blanchett

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moonelf19 · 4 years

Note

Remember when they were in the boiling pot? Travis/Fjord tried to look for things he recognized, things people he knew had once had. Things like Caleb's necklace which hadn't been found yet from the pile. He rolled a 21, didnt find it. But Veth who rolled a 21 did. I think that's kinda lame that Fjord had the same score and got nothing out of it while another roll for the same thing did. Imagine if he had actually been given that find?

(I had most of this answer written and tumblr flushed it away so here is take two!)

I hadn’t noticed that moment (but my roommate, who usually misses subtle things in the show, totally DID notice it and thought it was weird). This is now the second time in this arc that Matt has overlooked Caleb when Fjord was looking for people/things.

The first time was when Liam specifically said Caleb sat down next to Fjord at the bonfire to work on his wand (insert conspiracy theory about the wand here). About a minute later Travis asks Matt who is nearby and Matt listed people who were a little ways off doing food preparation but failed to mention Caleb sitting right next to Fjord.

And now Fjord looks for his friends belongings and finds nothing, but Veth looks for her friends belongings with the same roll and gets rewards?

Matt is a GREAT dm, I love watching him work. I also disagree with some of his choices (Veth unable to step across a 6 inch gap without rolling a save, her failing the save and dying in lava??? I was mad for a week lol). He can be a little harsh, which I actually REALLY enjoy! I love challenging DND, where the players have to be paying attention and thinking hard and involved.

However I think the reality is that Matt sees the characters and the story a certain way, and so the way he answers things, what he asks certain people, are all affected by that bias. It reinforces certain dynamics because he’s trying to help the players tell a story.

Do Veth and Caleb have a strong story connection? Yes, absolutely. I LOVE seeing Veth’s story play out because it’s been developing consistently since the start, her personality and choices have been shifting as she learns and grows, the wretched choice she is trying to make between her original family and the M9 is heart wrenching to watch.

I also think that Sam is really good at stepping into the spotlight and interacting with other characters. Veth has a connection with Jester (detectives), Yasha (the development from distrust to offering to give Yasha her flask), Fjord (pseudo-antagonistic friendship), Beau (dex based friendly rivalry). That’s all happened because when Matt asked what they want to do Sam took initiative and incited interaction with another player.

But the rest of the group is not doing that to the same extent. Case in point Ashley. Hardly ever seeks people out, very much still on the fringe of the party.

All rambling to say that Veth has sort of monopolized Caleb’s connections. Their relationship was/is sort of codependent. If the group is taking watch, Veth immediately pipes up she is on watch with Caleb. If the group is rooming in pairs Veth is going to room with Caleb. If the party is reporting their marching order sometimes she is on watch, but often she will place herself with Caleb to watch over him.

100 episodes in of course Matt has created a Veth-Caleb connection in his head. It’s been hammered in there. Sam has no sense of fear or reservation making sure Veth is where he wants her to be. Her story is being told fantastically. I wish the other characters were getting that sort of treatment, even if I know why they aren’t.

So when Fjord asks for things he would recognize, Matt probably thinks back to when Travis/Fjord has interacted with other party members, and in the heat of the moment he can’t immediately pull up an idea, so he passes it off that Fjord sees nothing. Because Travis is more timid at the table. Because he hasn’t laid the groundwork to have that instant connection to other characters in Matts head.

When Veth asks for things she might recognize, Matt thinks of Caleb. He even mentions sometimes that he assumes Veth is paying extra attention to Caleb unprompted (in the dungeon under Bazzozan, when they were descending the staircase. I just re-watched that episode so it stands out.) And so Matt says that Veth finds Caleb’s necklace. Of course she would.

From a mechanics standpoint it’s like the DC is different for Veth vs Fjord because Veth has seen the necklace so much more. Even if in game Fjord has seen it enough to recognize it, even if the necklace is VERY important to Fjord because it is keeping Caleb safe while he carries the Cloven Crystal. Even if Fjord had a pointed conversation with Caleb about making sure he was safe while carrying this horrible item for Fjord, even if Fjord said he doesn’t want Caleb to be in danger and is soothed by the fact that the necklace protects Caleb from Ukotoa’s followers.

That wasn’t in the forefront of Matt’s mind. So Fjord didn’t see it. Veth did.

And we got another Veth and Caleb interaction instead of a Fjord and Caleb one.

And things stay the same.

#critical role #meta #this is a no hate zone #pls keep that in mind #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!!!

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shireness-says · 4 years

Text

hashtag holiday party

Summary: This isn’t Emma’s company, or her holiday party, or her idea of a good time. Is there any good to be salvaged from the worst date ever? ~3.6K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3.

A/N: A couple of weeks ago, there was a great post about the worst company Christmas party date ever on the Ask a Manager blog, and I could resist turning it into a fic! Super thanks to @snidgetsafan, my ever trusty beta. Happy holidays, everyone!

Tagging the interested parties: @ohmightydevviepuu, @profdanglaisstuff, @kmomof4, @katie-dub, @welllpthisishappening, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @thejollyroger-writer, @phiralovesloki, @winterbaby89, @scientificapricot, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @spartanguard, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma Swan has many regrets, but chief among them right now is agreeing to this date.

Well, no. First place on her list of regrets is awarded to going to Mary Margaret’s Christmas party, where she ended up trapped in conversation with Walsh.

(Ugh, Walsh. Just the name should have been her clue to get the hell out of dodge when he’d spotted her across the room.)

Walsh isn’t her friend. Walsh wouldn’t even be considered Mary Margaret’s friend, if not for the fact that the woman is friends with absolutely everyone on the planet. He’s her and David’s neighbor, and he had been in town for the holiday, and Mary Margaret’s got a soft spot the size of Maine for lost souls - it’s how she’s ended up Emma’s best friend, after all. Emma and Walsh had interacted at a few previous gatherings, and he’d been fine. No spark to speak of on her end, but whatever, she’s okay to leave it that way. But clearly, he felt differently, because he asked her to accompany him to his company’s holiday party. In full earshot of Mary Margaret, at that, who had gotten such an excited look on her face, obviously already planning the wedding, that Emma couldn’t actually say no. The bastard had probably planned it that way.

(Shit, she doesn’t even know what he does - marketing, maybe? She barely knows the guy, and now she’s being dragged to his holiday party.)

Emma may not be excited, but she puts on a good show at least - none of this slobbing it up to make him regret asking. She can clean up good. And besides, she’ll be shutting that all down with her words later anyways if he’s stupid enough to ask for a second date - no ploys required. The red dress is cocktail appropriate yet a little bit Christmassy, especially when paired with glittery heels, even if her makeup and hair is simple. There’s a big difference between putting in no effort at all, and knowing what just isn’t worth the effort… and anything more than a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick falls firmly into the latter category.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t too, as Walsh shows up early. Eight whole minutes early, to be precise. Not the end of the world, but not ideal either. Emma sighs heavily and braces herself before going to the door; Mary Margaret would tell her to be optimistic, but Emma just knows it’s all downhill from here.

Sure enough, as soon as Emma opens the door, Walsh clumsily whips a bunch of fake flowers out of his coat sleeve. “For you, milady,” he proclaims dramatically, offering the fake foliage. “I wanted to start with a magic trick for a magical date and the beginning of a magical relationship.”

And ho boy howdy, does Emma want to call it all off right now. That was the original definition of coming on too hard. That was so far beyond the bounds of acceptable first date behavior, she doesn’t even know where to go from there.

(Far, far away, and very quickly at that.)

Mary Margaret’s voice chimes in her ear, though, talking about how it’s sweet and charming and will be a great story to tell the grandkids one day, and Emma just knows she’ll shake her head in disappointment if Emma reports back that she ended the date before it even started. It’s especially hard to face Mary Margaret’s big sad eyes, too, when Emma knows that her friend just wants her to be happy.

Besides, she’s been led to believe there will be an open bar at this thing, and she could go for a free drink. Probably free drinks, plural, if the rest of this date goes the same way.

“O...kay. Okay. That’s… okay. Thank you?” Emma finally manages to stutter out, accepting his “gift”. Can’t say she’s ever received fake flowers from a guy - and can’t say she’d want to again.

“Anything for you, Emma.” His voice is about five notches too reverential for comfort. “Can I help you with your coat?”

“That’s fine, I got it.” No need to create an illusion - no pun intended - that she welcomes his attention any more than she actually does. Plus, she’s a grown woman, and it’s easy enough to slip her coat on over her dress by herself.

If any hope had existed that this date might get better - that this might turn into the cute story to tell their future kids that Mary Margaret is probably hoping for - that hope is thoroughly squashed by the time Emma slides into her seat at the party’s venue. Walsh had circled the parking lot for fifteen minutes, refusing to accept that there was a complimentary valet service (“I just don’t understand why they’ve got whole sections of the parking lot blocked off.” “Because there’s a valet.” “It just feels like there should be more parking spots. Why isn’t there any place to park?” “Because there’s a valet.”). Then, he refuses to give up his coat at the coat check for too goddamn long because, as it turns out, he has all manner of other magic tricks hidden in the pockets and up his sleeves.

It is not nearly as charming as he obviously believes.

Truthfully, it’s a relief when she and Walsh find their table, drink tickets in hand. At least at the table, there’s other people, and she won’t be forced to only focus on Walsh’s embarrassing attempts at seduction.

“Can I get you a drink?” he offers eagerly - almost too eagerly, really, practically tripping over himself.

Still, it’s an offer for a drink. And Emma’s in no place to refuse one of those, not with how she thinks this night is shaping up to go. “That’d be great, actually,” she replies, handing over her ticket. “Just some red wine please - I’m not real picky about what kind.” Anything alcoholic will do at this point.

As Walsh trots off towards the bar, Emma turns her attention towards the rest of the table. They’re a mixed bunch of men and women who smile kindly as Emma looks about. She’s grateful for that - hopefully, Emma can use them as a distraction from whatever she’s sure Walsh will get up to.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” the pretty brunette sitting next to Emma asks. It’s the polite way of pointing out that her companion hadn’t bothered to make introductions.

“Emma Swan,” she replies, extending a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” she smiles back. “I’m Belle French, and this,” she gestures to the man sitting next to her, “is Killian Jones.”

“Hello, lass.” He’s a looker, to say the least - dark hair, blue eyes, charming smile. Sex on legs. Emma tries momentarily, futilely, to remind herself that she shouldn’t be checking out other men while she’s on a date, but fails spectacularly. It’s been evident since the magic flowers that she and Walsh aren’t going anywhere.

“Hi,” she waves back. “So you both work for the company, then?”

“Oh no,” Killian laughs. “Belle’s actually a librarian. She’s just here with me.”

And damn, isn’t that a pity; all the good ones seem to be taken. Not that she can blame Belle - the brunette seems to be lovely, and who wouldn’t want a piece of that?

(Emma doesn’t make a habit of ogling other women’s partners, but she just might make an exception for Killian Jones.)

Emma’s about to strike up a conversation with her neighbors, hopefully learn more - so what do you do here, how did you meet, is this some sort of flexible arrangement I can get in on - but Walsh returns with her drink at that moment.

It is not in a wine glass. It is not wine. It is not what she asked for.

“I got you a mudslide,” he explains with an eager look on his face. “I know how much women love chocolate after all!”

Women love wine too, especially this one, Emma thinks, but accepts the drink gingerly to be polite. No sense wasting the drink ticket. “Thanks,” she responds dryly. “I’m, uh… I’m actually not a big fan of chocolate. But I’m sure it’ll be… fine.” At least it’s liquor, and at least it’s something she can nurse. He could have shown up with a fireball shot.

“Well if you like, we can get you another drink later with -” Walsh darts a hand toward her ear suddenly, and even as Emma jerks away out of instinct, she knows exactly what’s coming. “- this!” He declares triumphantly with a coin in hand. Another magic trick. Because the first one went so well.

It’s… great.

“Huh. That’s… uh… wow. Huh.” There are no words to muddle through this with. There is only the mortification of watching a grown-ass man trying to woo her with magic tricks. “I was just getting to know some of your coworkers, actually; why don’t you introduce me?”

The rest of the table includes Walsh’s boss, Regina, and her husband Robin, and his coworker Ashley with her fiancé Sean. They’re perfectly nice, and friendly, and interesting, and Emma could almost enjoy herself talking to them - if only Walsh would ever give the magic tricks a break. He pulls handkerchiefs out of his sleeves when she reaches for a napkin, procures everything from drink tickets to miniscule flowers from a variety of places all too close to her person for comfort, and is now pulling out a deck of cards. God only knows how many magic tricks he knows with those.

“Why don’t you save those for later?” Emma suggests when he instructs her to pick a card. Without actually making it sound like a suggestion. Alright, it’s a straight-up order. In her defense, it’s been a long night. Walsh has monopolized her attention all evening with these stupid tricks and explanations of all the things they’ll do together, not even bothering to talk to his coworkers beyond the introductions Emma insisted upon. In fact, he’s grown even more insistent about it every time she’s tried to politely redirect his attention. She’s been making an effort at least - to talk about everyone’s Christmases and the baby that Ashley and Sean are expecting and Belle’s job. But it’s hard to keep any conversation going when she’s got Walsh bugging her every other moment to show her another magic trick. She hopes that the message maybe finally has gotten through with a flat refusal to engage. “Now Belle - you were about to tell us about one of the teen programs at the library?”

Unfortunately, Walsh doesn’t take that very well. In some ways, she supposes that the message to stop all the magic tricks finally did get through his thick skull - it’s just that he then stands up from the table and stalks over to the banquet hall’s piano, sitting down with a flourish. Maintaining eye contact with Emma the whole while - oh, how she wishes she hadn’t startled when he’d stood up and stormed away, wishes she had ignored him altogether - he begins to play.

“Is that Adele?” Regina asks after a moment.

Emma groans. “I’m going to need another drink.”

———

It just doesn’t make sense - how such a charming woman as Emma Swan ended up at this holiday party as the date of Walsh Ozman. Killian just can’t understand it; he has to work with Walsh every day, and he’s never been anything less than insufferable.

“I kind of got roped into it,” Emma explains, sipping on the glass of wine she’d finally procured with her second drink ticket. “My best friend is his neighbor, and we were both at her Christmas party, and before I knew it he was asking me and Mary Margaret was giving me that face she has. She’s a matchmaker - always just wants to see everyone happy and paired off. Romance is everywhere if you just look for it and all that.” She takes a long drink, nearly draining the rest of the glass. “Big crock of shit, if this is what it brings.”

He’d like to argue with her, tell her that it’s not all hopeless (if only for the very selfish reason that he’d like to show her otherwise on a much nicer date than she’s currently suffering through)... but Walsh strikes a particularly strong chord right at that moment, rendering anything Killian might try to say in poor taste. Christmas music has been piping through the room since before any of them arrived, but that doesn’t stop Walsh in the least. God, what an obnoxious prick.

“So, how did you two meet?” Emma asks, gesturing between Killian and Belle as she takes another sip, obviously trying to take her mind off the spectacle being staged in her honor across the room.

“Killian moved into the apartment next to mine… what, three years ago now?” Belle asks, looking to him for confirmation. “Anyways, I dropped by with a tray of cookies as a little ‘welcome to the building’ gesture, and as they say, the rest is history,” she beams.

“Of course you did,” he thinks he hears Emma mutter into the remains of her wine. Curious, that. It’s almost like she thinks… “Well, I’m happy for you two. You guys are really cute.”

Killian spares a glance at Belle before hastening to reply. “Oh, no, we’re not -”

But before he can clarify the situation - that he and Belle are just friends, no romantic spark to speak of - the distinct strains of “You’re So Vain” drift over from the piano, where Walsh wears a mournful face best suited to sad puppy dog commercials. Like this whole moment isn’t already the stuff of a terrible comedy movie.

Ashley pushes her drink tickets across the table. “I think you might need something a little stronger.”

The understatement of the century.

———

Emma Swan ends up with a lot of spare drink tickets; everyone seems to recognize that she needs them a lot more than anyone else. With her spare drink tickets, Emma Swan procures a martini, a vodka cranberry, and two rum and cokes before anyone insists she switch to water. It’s certainly understandable that she’d want to drink her way through this utter disaster of a date.

Walsh still plays the piano.

Killian, in turn, discovers that Emma Swan is an effusively nice drunk. She assures Ashley and Sean that they’re going to the best parents, and declares that Regina is both a queen and a boss-ass bitch in a tone that makes it clear that it’s the highest compliment. Killian thinks he even overhears Emma telling Belle that she’s “an angel nurturing the minds of tomorrow so they can make the world a better place and perpetuate the power of human kindness” as he returns with her final cocktail.

(He just might have to print off business cards with that mouthful of a title as a gag gift for Belle.)

Eventually, Walsh does tire of his dramatics and return to the table in a huff. Unfortunately, he’s very insistent that it’s time to leave. It makes sense; this party can’t have been much fun for him, despite the elaborate wallowing routine he created for himself. That means Emma has to leave too, though, and Killian will miss her bright smile and endearingly excessive compliments. There’s also the matter of how he’s not sure he trusts Walsh to take her home.

“You know what, Belle and I are about ready to call it a night too. We’ll follow you out,” he insists. Walsh’s glare only solidifies Killian’s determination to do so. “Swan, do you want to text your friend and let her know you’re on your way?”

“I should text Mary Margaret!” Emma slurs. “Have I told you she’s an angel?”

“You sure did, love.”

The coat check shouldn’t result in any great debacle; it’s the coat check after all, practically just a formality. They get their coats, they go. Unfortunately, it’s Walsh, so unfortunately, that’s not the case.

“You’re like a… like a coat guard. A coat-yguard!” Emma grins as her outerwear is handed back. With clumsy fingers, she extracts a ten dollar bill from her wallet - a little excessive, most likely, but hell, she’s feeling good - and drops it into the tip jar.

Only for Walsh to snatch it right back out.

“You don’t have to pay the tip for me,” Emma insists with a stubborn set to her brows. “I’m fine to do it.”

“Coat check is free, baby,” Walsh tells her with a patronizing tone, trying to stuff the bill into his own coat pocket. Poor taste, that, but still not nearly as poor of taste as refusing to tip.

“Yeah, that’s why you tip,” Emma insists, snatching the bill from his hand to stick it back in the jar again.

“Don’t be stupid, that’s just a scam.” Walsh even rolls his eyes as he reaches back to the jar again.

Emma slaps his hand on the way. “You know what, you douchebag -”

“Emma would you like a ride home with us instead?” Belle interrupts, reading the situation. It’s more than for the best; Killian doesn’t trust Walsh as far as he can spit.

“Oh my god, yes.” After Emma manages to wrestle back into her coat, she turns back to Walsh for one parting shot. “Now that is what a date is supposed to look like, bozo. These two? They’re hashtag relationship goals.” She even makes the symbol with her hands.

He should correct her, really, but at a certain point, it just seems best to steer Emma out of the building and into his car.

By some miracle, her building is only two blocks away from their own. Emma spends the ride in the backseat with Belle, playing with the brunette’s hair and insisting they exchange numbers.

“You’ve been a goddamn gem, Killian Jones,” she salutes in parting as Belle leads her inside.

This night has been many things, but memorable certainly tops the list. One thing is for certain: he won’t be forgetting Emma Swan anytime soon.

———

Emma wakes the next day with a pounding headache, an intense feeling of humiliation, and Belle French’s number in her phone. Surely, she’s had worse nights, but it’s hard to think of any right now.

She finally manages to work up the nerve to text Belle in mid-afternoon; she definitely owes a variety of people a variety of apologies.

Emma Swan, 4:32pm: hey, it’s Emma. thanks for taking care of my drunk ass last night, i’m sure i was a mess. sorry about that

Belle French, 4:41pm: Don’t worry about it, please! You were great, we should do something again sometime.

Emma Swan, 4:44pm: no mixing drinks, please, for the love of god

Emma Swan, 4:45pm: thank Killian for me too. lucky girl - he seems like a real keeper. unlike my date last night…

Belle French, 4:47: Will do! He’s not my boyfriend, though - we really are just neighbors. He’s like a brother to me, truly. Credit where credit is due, though - he really was a lot better than your tosser!

Emma Swan, 4:51: … oh.

Emma Swan, 4:51: do you know if he has a different girlfriend, then?

Belle French, 4:53: I know for a fact that he doesn’t. Let me send you his number.

———

She should be brave - should use that phone number to reach out and ask him to coffee or drinks or straight into a steamy make-out session.

Emma Swan does not do any of these things.

(She especially doesn’t tell Mary Margaret - it was already bad enough to have to relive exactly why she and Walsh won’t be having a second date, there’s no need to encourage her friend to transfer all her hopes to poor Killian instead.)

Instead, she runs into Killian completely by chance a week later, as he’s coming out of the post office and she’s walking to the coffee shop. She nearly plows him over, actually - far too focused on checking her email on her phone and not nearly enough on where she’s going.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he grins once they’ve straightened themselves out again.

“Yeah,” Emma laughs. “And sober this time, too!”

(Not one of her stronger lines.)

“A real plus for certain.” Well, at least he seems charmed.

They lapse into a silence for a moment before Emma finds the words to continue. “I just want to thank you, for being so great that night. And apologize for… everything I did. God, I was a mess that night.”

“You were in the middle of a disaster of a situation,” Killian smiles at her.

“Yeah, well, let’s just call it a lapse in judgement and leave it at that.” Emma winces as memories of the night flick through her brain. “God, did I really make the hashtag symbol with my hands? In public?”

“You really did,” he chuckles. “I take it Belle straightened you out on the relationship bit of relationship goals?”

Emma blushes. “Yeah, she did. Definitely not mortified about that, not at all.”

“Ah, happens to the best of us, Swan.” After another silent moment, his hand steals up to scratch at the bit of neck behind his ear. “Since that’s the case, I was just wondering - well, I’d like to ask, that is, if you’re interested -”

“Do you want to get coffee with me?” Emma interrupts. She thinks that’s where he was going, anyways; she’s just a little more efficient about it.

“I’d love to, Emma.” This time, the grin stretches fully across his face and could probably outshine a whole tree’s worth of Christmas lights.

Who knows? Something good just might have come out of that god-awful holiday party date after all.

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #my writing #hashtag holiday party #featuring the world's worst date

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cross-poison · 4 years

Text

CLARITAS. The Mandaloran/Din Djarin x Original Female Character (Part 7)

A/N: It's been a hot minute! I had a few weeks where I felt so burned out I couldn't get any writing accomplished... Hoping to change that in the coming weeks. Thanks for your patience!

WORDS: 2.2k || WARNINGS: None

When Elliotte awoke the next morning, it wasn’t to the familiar sight of sunlight peeking through the shades of her bedroom balcony, but to the cool and soft darkness of the Mandalorian’s ship. She sat up quickly, readjusting to her surroundings and doing her best to pat down any bed head she’d acquired throughout the course of the night.

After a few moments, she’d willed herself to stand up and reenter the main segment of the ship but before she could get much further, she heard Mando climb down from the upper level and join her in the main area.

“You’re awake,” he acknowledged, “Here. I brought you this.” He turned a small purple object over in his gloved hand and passed it to her.

Ell took it from him and couldn’t resist a smile as she recognized the familiar round shape he’d offered her. “That’s very kind of you---but why are you giving me a grange fruit?”

The Mandalorian had no response readily available to such a question, aside from a slow tilt of his helmet. Then, after a long moment of consideration, “To… eat?”

Elliotte looked back down at the fruit and nodded slowly. “I appreciate the gesture, truly. Grange fruits are… a Listronus specialty… but they are incredibly toxic. Not for eating. But… excellent medicinal properties, and the skin can be boiled into a delicious tea when mixed with some of the local flowers. Very tasty.”

“Certainly glad I didn’t try to eat it myself, then. I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with the merchant who tried to pass it off as edible.”

Elliotte chuckled, scraping a fleck of dirt off of the grange fruit with her fingernail, “Try not to go too hard on ‘em. Everyone’s just trying to make a living around here---not that it excuses the selling of toxic fruits to visitors!” With a sigh, she let her arm drop to her side, “I apologize. We used to be more hospitable people.”

“You have quite a bit of knowledge about this planet… have you lived here for a long time?” Mando asked, quietly taking a seat on one of the storage containers across from her.

Ell nodded stiffly. “I’ve always lived here… This is my first time even setting foot on a ship like this! I’m impressed, I must say. All these boxes… and you said you practically live in here, right? So you must do a lot of travelling.”

“Mostly for work.”

“What do you do?”

“I used to be a bounty hunter. I guess… I still am, but I’ve got the kid now so I have more pressing matters to prioritize.”

Elliotte tried to hide the white-hot fear that coursed through her at the mention of bounty hunters. It had been a concern of hers for a long time that Listronus’s king would call for bounty hunters to shut down operations like Rhythimi’s… still, it was hard to believe that this particular Mandalorian would travel from so far for something like this. Ell felt he was being sincere… perhaps her bit of trust was misplaced, but he’d given her no reason not to believe him. “So you aren’t here looking for someone?”

“No. I’m just here for fuel.”

“Many are… I’ve seen a few travelers have to bite the bullet and settle down here. The king has monopolized all fuel resources and imports and distributes them in miniscule portions. There’s not nearly enough to go around.”

“You may find it difficult to believe, but this isn’t the worst planet I’ve been stranded on. I don’t mind staying here until my turn.”

Elliotte fell silent for a moment, gaze drawn once again to the grange fruit between her hands, “You know, if you’ll be here for a while, you’ll have to learn not to be deceived by tricky merchants. Maybe you could use a guide.”

“Are you offering?” said the Mandalorian, catching her by surprise yet again. Her eyes shot up, meeting the t-shape of his beskar as she carefully pondered her answer. “I can pay you for your time,” he continued.

The thought of money during her recovery period made her graze her fingertips over her sprained wrist. “Well… it’s not like I’m really able to work my regular job, is it? Sure. I’m offering. I’ll teach you how to deal with the locals and the nobility, and… which fruits are toxic and which are fine to eat,” she chuckled, “and… whatever else you’re hoping to learn about this planet.”

“Great. When do we start?”

“Right now?”

Mando’s armor clinked together with a metallic sound as he stood. Ell did the same, but before she headed for the ramp, she glanced just past his shoulder to the ladder to the upper level, where he’d taken the little green child the night before.

Mando followed her gaze for a brief moment, then brushed past her and made his way toward the ship’s exit. “He’ll be fine. This won’t be the first time he’s been left alone during the day.”

The harpist was quick to follow, squinting against the harsh sunlight as she stepped out into it. “I’ve overslept,” Ell noted, “If I was scheduled to work this morning, I’d already be starting with my third client.”

“Good thing you aren’t, then,” came the beskar-clad man’s reply, “Where would you like to start guiding?”

“The marketplace. Perhaps we can negotiate a refund for your grange fruit,” Elliotte said, increasing her pace so she could properly walk beside him as they returned to the city center. “I’m sure many places in the galaxy practice negotiations and trades---on Listronus, it’s a way of survival. If you play the right cards and talk to the right people, you can start with a grange fruit and end up with a house.”

By the time the stalls of the crowded marketplace had come into view, Elliotte had gone over numerous negotiation methods valued by the local Listronians, and as she came to a halt in front of one of the vendors, she held up the purple grange fruit to demonstrate. The man before her was short and stocky, a thick beard covering his lower face and a few orange-tinted blossoms wrapped around some of the fine hairs to add an interesting accent to his dark features.

This particular merchant’s stall was covered in decorative strands of beads, all hand-crafted and sewn together to create beautifully elaborate color combinations and designs. As Elliotte began to offer her trade, chattering quickly with the merchant in their native tongue, the Mandalorian reached for one of the bead strands in a nearby basket, turning it over to closely survey the craftsmanship.

It was rather cheaply made, with inexpensive strands of cloth wrapped around thin white beads that matched the color of the wilting flower petals in Elliotte’s hair, but there was still something simple and beautiful about it.

Mando was no expert in the Listronian language, but he’d done enough travelling in his time to be able to recognize a few words in his companion’s conversation with the merchant.

“....Wife… heart… ill…”

They discussed intently for a moment before Ell’s expression brightened and grew into a wide smile. She handed the merchant the grange fruit, and after it was in his grasp, the man gestured to the basket of bead strands. “Three.”

“Take three,” Ell followed up, offering the Mandalorian a smile before gently shaking the merchant’s hand. “May she have a swift recovery.” With that, she turned and made her way back to the Mandalorian’s side, just as he finished retrieving three strands from the basket.

As they moved on from the stall, Elliotte lowered her voice just a bit. “It’s not difficult to barter here… everyone needs something, whether it’s a piece of furniture for their dwelling or leaves for tea. Grange fruit, as I mentioned earlier, has great medicinal properties. Joju’s wife has been feeling ill this week, with a high fever and heart pain… the fruit will help ease her fever when prepared the right way. In exchange, we have three bead threads.”

“Why didn’t you just purchase them? They weren’t expensive,” inquired Mando, curious to follow her process.

“If you bought everything in the marketplace with credits, you’d be broke within weeks. If a merchant knows you can pay the full price immediately, they’ll raise it… that’s how you wind up convinced a grange fruit is edible.”

“Fair point… Now we have beads. What’s a step up from that?”

“Now, you consider who’d have the most use for beads. You’d have trouble selling beads to a fruit salesman---what use would he have for them, right? So instead…” Elliotte trailed off, smoothing her hand down the side of her dress and tapping at a few of the beads sewn into the fabric, “You’d be better off approaching a seamstress.” She nodded further down the row of stalls where two female merchants were sitting, smiling at customers and engaging in polite conversation while they threaded a pattern into a violet-colored dress shirt.

Elliotte maneuvered through the crowd, followed closely by Mando, until she came to a halt in front of the seamstresses. Up close, Mando noticed that they, too, boasted brightly-colored flowers in their hair. It was then he reasoned the flowers must have some sort of cultural significance on Listronus, but he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how or why.

The seamstress closest to the front of the stall lit up as Elliotte drew near. “Ellie! Long time no see… glad to see the dress I made is holding up! Is your arm alright…? What’s happened?”

“No need to worry, Lisete. Just a little accident… and yes, the dress is marvelous. Comfortable… fits like a glove… absolutely perfect.”

Lisete was positively glowing by the time Ell had finished speaking about the quality of her dress. “Is there something specific you’ve come here for today?”

“My friend and I have just come to offer you these,” Elliotte said, passing her one of the strands, “Your beadwork is always so impressive, and I know you love to use many shapes and sizes in your patterns. Would you have any use for these?”

Lisete hummed thoughtfully as she pulled at the cheap cloth until a bead came loose in her palm. “They’re awfully tiny… but not useless by any means. I have a skirt that these would look lovely on. What are you hoping to get for them?”

Ell hummed softly, leaning down and folding her arms across the table. “I was wondering if you had any string… some firm but flexible string.”

Lisete glanced over her shoulder toward the other seamstress, who nodded and passed her a spool of rolled string. “We can offer you this. This is made from ostratine root fibers rather than our typical fabric threads… it’s stretchy and resilient, but not very comfortable if you’re hoping to wear something made of it.” “This is perfect, Lisete, thank you,” Elliotte said, “Would you trade the full spool for three bead strands?”

“Sure would.”

Ell passed her the beads and took the wrapped string before saying her goodbyes and making her way back into the marketplace.

“You’re good at this,” Mando stated.

“I’ve been doing it for a long time. It’s important to build up a bit of a reputation here in the market, so people know you won’t screw them over. Learn about them. Buy from them. They’ll come to trust you. Do you want to try the next exchange?”

“... I suppose.”

“Take a look at these stands… who do you think would have the most use for a string like this?”

The Mandalorian turned his helmet, scanning the nearby stalls slowly before settling on one at the opposite side of the aisle, where a lanky man was laughing and shaking hands with a customer with a handful of fish wrapped in parchment. “A fisherman,” was his answer through the modulator, “He can use the string for his poles.”

“Great eye. You’re a fast learner,” Elliotte replied, passing him the spool.

As Mando went to cross the street, a figure from further down the row caught his eye. He stood out in the crowd with expensive-looking robes made of fabrics that certainly weren’t being sold in the marketplace. The hood of his robe was fused with some kind of animal bone with various pointed tips, like a crown around the back of his neck. The skin around his eyes was decorated in royal blue paint, a color that only seemed to accentuate his worst features. He was balding, so he wore no flowers, but Mando still recognized him immediately as Listronian.

“Lord Miryus,” he heard Elliotte breathe from beside him, “He’s the one who sprained my wrist.”

“He did this?”

“Yes. He’s a nobleman who lives in the palace. It’s awfully pretentious that he dresses like that here in the market---the antlers and paint are a sign of status… as if any of us could doubt it, when he struts around like the king himself anywhere he goes.” Elliotte said, and Mando didn’t miss the way her nose wrinkled with distaste.

“If you have such a dislike for the nobility… why do you work so closely with them?”

“I need money. They like music… it’s like I said before---Everyone needs something; there’s always an exchange to be made,” Elliotte finally drew her gaze back to him and forced a weak smile, nodding to the spool of string in his hand. “Speaking of which, it’s time you pitch yours.”

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #mando x ofc #din djarin #mando #baby yoda #din djarin x ofc #mando x oc #star wars fic #fanfiction #claritas #my writing #pedro pascal

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years

Photo

Initial 6★ Roie (MOON) Translation

ＳＳ　突き動かすもの Secret Story: The thing that drives me

CV: 三木眞一郎 (Miki Shinichiro)

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will remain as my normal ( ラン )

突然、姿を見せなくなってしまったランが気にかかり、仕事にも研究にも集中できないでいた、ある日…－。 That day, I wasn’t able to focus on neither my research nor my work, for she had suddenly made herself scarce.

ロイエ「では行こう。今日は空いているかい？」 Roie: Let’s go then. Are you free today?

ラン「え……」 Ran: Huh…?

彼女の部屋を訪れ、やや性急に問いかけた。 I stopped by her room and asked her as such, albeit a little hastily.

だが、その返事を待っているのがもどかしく…－。 But, I wasn’t about to stand around waiting for her reply; the wait drove me nuts.

ロイエ「いや、君の機微や��合にかまっている余裕はないな。行こう」 Roie: Actually; I don’t have the time to bother about how this suits your convenience or whether you feel like doing this or not. We’re going.

ラン「っ……！　ロ、ロイエさ…－！！」 Ran: Hey…!? R-Roie-san…!?

ほぼ無理矢理に彼女を抱き上げ、自室へと連れ帰った。 I lifted her up, pretty much without her consent, and brought her back to my room.

しかし…－。 However...

彼女は、僕がどれだけ問いただそうとも真実を言わないどころか、悲しげに表情を曇らせてしまった。 She refused to tell me the truth despite how much I questioned her about it, her expression turning cloudier and gloomier by the minute.

（何故こんなにも憂い顔を……？） (Why do you look so sad…?)

ラン「ロイエさんはやっぱり、私のことも面倒だと思っていたんですね……」 Ran: So...I’m guessing that you think of me as a nuisance too.

ロイエ「……」 Roie: ……

不意に発せられた言葉に、僕は珍しく何も反応することができない。 It came as a shocker to me as well, that I was unable to come up with a reply.

（僕が、彼女のことを面倒だと？） (She says that I think of her as a nuisance?)

（いつそんなことを言っただろうか。いや、僕が告げたわけではないな） (When in the world did I ever say something like that? No; I don’t think I have.)

（では彼女が一人でそう憶測して？　いやいや、それこそトルゲの入れ知恵では……） (Did she come up with that conclusion all on her own, then? No, that can’t be. It must have been Torge; he must have said something...)

何故だか今日は、思考がひどく鈍い。 I don’t know why, but my thoughts are a little sluggish today.

考えるのは心臓ではなく、脳であるというのに、どうも心臓の辺りがざわめくのだ。 The area around my heart pangs, despite how one uses the brain to formulate thoughts, and not the heart.

（よって……正常な判断ができない） (My judgement has been impaired, thanks to that…)

（いや、そもそも、既にここまで感情に振り回されているというのに） (No; I’ve already been led by my nose by these feelings in the first place, throwing me into a loop.)

（ここまできて、論理的な判断、正常な判断、適した判断というものが必要なのだろうか……） (And now that I’ve come so far...Is it really necessary to make logical, appropriate and right conclusions in light of this…?)

ラン「……」 Ran: ……

様々な思いに苛まれながら、目の前の彼女をじっと見つめる。 I kept my eyes trained on her as my many different trains of thoughts processed themselves in my head.

悲しげに伏せられたまつ毛はわずかに震え、唇はかたく引き結ばれている。 Her lips were clamped down hard into a fine line, eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly in sadness as she kept her gaze down.

それを見ると、思考がまたぐるりと回り始めた。 My thoughts ran wild yet again at the sight.

（ふむ……つまりこれが、庇護欲というものだろうか） (Hmm...What is this feeling? Is this a desire to protect?)

（いや、独占欲？　……いや、これこそが……恋心というものなのか？） (No; a desire to monopolize, perhaps? ...No, I suppose this is what they call...love?)

（今や僕自身も彼女も、興味深すぎる研究対象だ） (We’re both interesting test subjects at this moment in time.)

頭の中では至極活発に様々なことが、巡り駆け抜けているというのに、心はただひたすらに、熱く膨張させるように心拍数を上げ続けている。 My mind was spinning with various thoughts, but my heartbeat was increasing as if it was in overdrive.

（実に……不思議だ。恋というものは……） (This thing called...love? It’s actually...curious, indeed.)

ふと……知れず、うつむく彼女に手を伸ばしかけており、慌てて手を引く。 I was about to reach out for her, but I hurriedly pulled my hand back in time before she realized anything.

（何故こんなにも触れたいと思うのか、僕は今、完全に感情のみに動かされているのか……） (Why do I wish to touch her so badly now? Am I perhaps being controlled by my emotions…?)

（この手や体、言葉は、頭ではなく心で動き始めているのか……） (Does this mean that my hand, my body, and even this mind of mine is acting according to my heart right now…?)

引いた手を一度見つめ、今一度彼女を見つめる。 I looked down at the hand that tried to reach out to her, and back at her again.

（やはり、触れたい） (I do want to touch her, after all.)

ラン「っ……」 Ran: ……

強く感じ、彼女の頬を指先でそっと触れると…… I gave into the strong desire of mine and let my fingers graze across her cheek.

彼女は驚いたように僕を見上げた。 She looked up at me in surprise.

わずかに熱を持ったように潤んだ瞳が、また一際、僕の心拍数を上げてしまった。 The sight of her heated eyes, bright with unshed tears, sent my heart into a frenzy again.

ロイエ「君は何かを誤解しているようだ」 Roie: It seems like you're misunderstanding something.

触れれば、彼女の頬は柔らかく温かで、まるで吸い寄せられるように、その頬を指先でゆっくりと撫でた。 Her cheeks were soft and warm to the touch. I ran my fingers across it, entranced.

（僕は君に、衝動らしき感情でこんなにも近づきたいと思っている） (I wish to get closer to you; so much that I’m feeling this impulsive right now.)

ロイエ「いや、誤解させたのはすべて僕の言動のせいであり、それが原因であり……」 Roie: No, it might be my fault for causing this misunderstanding you have, due to my prior actions.

（彼女が面倒なのではない……僕が思考することを放棄したかっただけだ） (I don’t think of her as a nuisance, no...I just couldn’t sort out my thoughts regarding this matter.)

ロイエ「今はそのすべてが結びつくような気がしているんだが……。　難解極まりない」 Roie: That’s the root cause of it all...I feel like this entire thing has turned out to be much more complicated than need be, making it hard to decipher and come to an understanding.

言葉通り、整然としない感情と思考の狭間で、思わず苦笑する。 A smile unconsciously found its way onto my face as I said that, amidst my turmoil of feelings and thoughts.

（頭で解明したことを話すのは容易だが、感情を伝えるというのは難しいものだ） (It’s easy to explain how I came up with solutions that I came up with in my head, but feelings on the other hand...Is quite problematic to convey)

言葉とは不自由なものだと、思い知る。 That there are limits to what words can convey.

ならば…－。 If so, then...

ラン「え……っ？」 Ran: Huh…?

彼女に触れていた手をするりと後頭部へ回し、ぐっと引き寄せた。 I slid the hand I had on her cheek to the back of her head and pulled her closer.

彼女の甘い香りにくらりとしたものを感じながら、その唇を求め…… Basking in the fragrance that came with her, I sought out her lips...

ラン「ん……っ」 Ran: Mmngh…!?

奪うように、口づけをした。 I kissed her, as if trying to steal her very being away.

（言葉で難しければ、行動で示せば良い） (I can convey whatever I need to say through actions, if words fail me.)

素知らぬ顔をして、頭の中でそう呟く。 I feigned ignorance despite what was running through my head.

触れ合った唇は一気に体温を上げ、胸の中心を苦しくさせた。 The short brush of our lips made my temperature skyrocket and my chest constricted painfully.

（言い得て妙な……高揚感だ） (I feel...strangely elated.)

心からの名残惜しさを感じながら、たっぷりと時間をかけ、その蠱惑的な唇から距離を置く。 I withdrew from those enticing lips of hers with a hint of regret as I gave her some space.

ロイエ「……分かったかい？」 Roie: ...Have you come to an understanding?

唇の記憶に深く、彼女の柔らかな唇の感触が刻まれた。 I could still feel the ghost of her soft lips on mine.

インプットされた心地よさと余韻に、確かめるように自らの唇を舐め、微笑む。 I licked my lips with a smile, enjoying the pleasant lingering feeling that the contact had left.

ロイエ「人肌というのは、思ったより悪くない。　いや、むしろ良いと言うべきか……妙な高ぶりを感じるものだ」 Roie: Feeling the warmth of another isn’t as bad as I thought. No, I suppose...I guess it’s something that’s strangely revered.

ラン「あの……な、なんで……？」 Ran: Uh…? Why did you…? Huh?

口づけを終えた彼女の声は、か弱くか細く、またしても不可思議な高揚感と衝動を掻き立てる。 Her voice came out weak and unsteady, causing another bout of euphoria to well up in me along with resurfacing urges.

ロイエ「何故かと言われれば、言葉にするよりもこうしたほうが早いと判断したためだ。　現に、伝わったと思っているんだが、どうだろうか？」 Roie: I did this because I came to the conclusion that this would be settled much easier through action, rather than trying to explain myself. Personally, I think that what I’ve been meaning to say has already been conveyed, don’t you think?

彼女が、まるで思考が追いつかないといった顔で僕を見ている。 She was looking at me, lost, as if reality had yet to catch up to her.

（不思議だ……この全てが、とても重要に思える） (How curious...I feel like this is a very important moment in time.)

（記録に……いや、記憶に必ず残しておかなければ） (I have to remember this...no, I will engrave this into my memory.)

そう思いながら、再度彼女を抱き寄せ…… I found myself embracing her yet again.

今度は深くたっぷりと、その唇を堪能する。 This time, I made sure to thoroughly enjoy the feeling of her lips.

ロイエ「……ラン。君の唇は不思議とかぐわしい。　香草も香水も嫌いだが、君の香りならいくらでも吸い込んでいたいくらいだ。　それに……僕が知る限りでは、このような顔をしている女性は……。　この後の誘いを断らないという話だが……君はどうするのだろうか？」 Roie: ...Your lips are strangely addictive. And for someone who doesn’t like herbs and perfumes in general, I absolutely don’t mind breathing in as much of your scent as I can. Also...I doubt there’s anyone out there who’s capable of making such an expression, as far as my knowledge goes. So, back to the topic of you declining my invitation again. What will you do now…?

先ほどからずっと、言葉を失ったままの彼女は…… Having lost her ability to speak since a while ago,

また重なり合おうとする唇を視界に入れ、恍惚とした表情で瞳を閉じたのだった…－。 She finally closed her eyes, an ecstatic expression on her face.

おわり The END

#夢100 #v #Roie #translations #yume oukoku to nemureru 100-nin no oujisama #夢王国と眠れる100人の王子様 #Otome #三木眞一郎 #Miki Shinichiro

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 4 years

Text

The Family Portrait

Chapter 4

A knock woke them up, and the door creaked open a crack.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Inga?"

"Could you help with my hair, please?" She said as she opened the door the rest of the way.

"Yes, of course," she said as she sat up slowly, "come sit on the bed here."

Inga walked over to the bed and then stopped when she heard a snore, her skirt swinging like a bell, brushing the edge of the bed.

"Papa!" Inga chided, "Dinner is less than an hour! You need to get ready. I just had to nag Fred, too. I don't know what they were getting into in the stables..."

Kristoff sat up rubbing his forehead. "Is he cleaning up now, at least?"

"I threatened that Nanny would give him a bath if he didn't start right away," she said with a laugh, adding sternly, "you should do the same now."

"Or you'll send Nanny up here?"

"No… Papa!"

He got up and closed the bathroom door behind him. Inga sat down next to her mother.

"Sorry, Inga," said her mother beginning to part her daughter's blond hair, "I should have had Gerda let us know when it was time."

"No, I'm sorry, Mama, it's just, I do feel awkward when it ends up just being me at these things. I enjoy some of the conversations, but you know what most of them are hoping… ow…"

"Oh… it got tangled in back there, let me work at that," she said, working at it as gently as possible.

"...and I'm taller than most of them. I shouldn't care. I just wish I knew that I was done growing."

"Freddie is as tall as you now. I think you're done."

"You're probably right. But that still leaves me stuck dancing with short foreign princes. But I know you won't understand."

"You'd be surprised."

"Wait, what?"

"There, done," the queen said, pulling the last ribbon tight, "go take a look."

Inga got up and walked to the mirror. "Oh, that is nice, thank you!"

"Have a nice evening, and please don't let anyone bother you too much, it’s just a dinner," she said as her daughter kissed her cheek and ran out the door.

As the princess ran down the long hall, she saw a young man at the other end. She stopped briefly, took a breath, and walked slowly as she had been trained to do when dignitaries were around. She knew several official ships from various countries had arrived that morning, and they would all be at the evening's dinner, but she wasn’t used to seeing any of them on their own.

“Are you lost?” she asked, noticing that he was looking at one of the family portraits.

“No,” he replied, hesitating, and recognizing an older version of the girl in the portrait he had been admiring. “Pardon me, I hope I’m allowed to be here, Your Highness. You would be Princess… Anna Iduna Ingeborg...?"

"It's fine to be here, but most people don't explore alone. And, yes… that is my name. Sorry, you are?...”

“Lars Nilsen, private secretary to His Excellency the Ambassador from Corona. I’m sorry if I’m in the way. I had nothing to do before dinner, and I decided to look at the paintings. I assume this one was a few years ago?”

“Oh, that… yes. I was only nine. That baby is seven now, and there are some more now...."

“Yes, I was debriefed before we arrived, I shouldn’t expect to see the Queen for some weeks, and perhaps not His Highness, either?”

"Are you always this formal, Mr. Nilsen? And you don't sound like you're from Corona."

"I'm sorry, I was rather afraid of offending a member of the royal family."

"I don't think we're easily offended, at least not in that way. And you can call me Inga, if you're not in front of anyone who cares."

"Um, thank you," he stammered, "you can just call me Lars, if you like, Inga."

"There, that makes things easier," she said grabbing his hand to shake it.

"So, how many of you will be at tonight's dinner?"

"Just Papa, myself, and Frederick," she paused to point at the boy next to her in the portrait.

"Oh, yes, I heard he goes by that name," he said as his eyes scanned the portrait some more, settling on the queen holding the baby, "and your mother, do you have any idea how long she's... to be in confinement?"

"She thinks it might be another week or two until the baby comes, though you never can tell. She's always back attending official functions after a week or two. Well, almost always... after the twins, it was several months before she made any official appearances. I didn’t even see her for a long time, and Papa didn’t even come out of the room for a week, which seems like a long time when you’re four…“

She stopped what she was saying as she remembered sitting outside her parents’ door each morning hoping to see them, and Nanny would find her and tell her that she should let her parents rest. Finally, one day while she was sitting outside the room, her aunt was quietly exiting. She knew she was visiting, but had hardly seen her this time.

"Inga!” she gasped, “What are you doing here? How long have you been here?”

I'm sorry, I was waiting for Mama and Papa to have enough rest so they could see me again.”

“Mama still isn’t feeling well,” her aunt said gently, “but I think I can get your Papa.”

Inga paused, biting her lower lip, and closing her eyes briefly, and looked more closely at the portrait she usually walked past.

The young man interrupted her silence, “My mother told me she always wanted a large family…”

The princess realized that she had been monopolizing the conversation, and asked “You’re really from Corona? Your name doesn't sound like it."

“My mother is from Arendelle, and my older brother was born here, too, but they left before I was born. My father had died when… Oh. I was instructed not to talk about that time. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. That was before I was born. But I won’t tell,” she said, getting close enough that her skirts were brushing against his leg. “You said you have a brother? Are you close?”

“He’s only a year older. He’s a lieutenant in the navy, just last year. Their ship was back in port, and the captain threw a big party for everyone. Mother and I don’t get to see him as often as we like, but he writes every chance he gets. I even had a letter waiting for me when we arrived here this morning. Three letters, in fact. One from Mother, and another from Elizabeth…” he trailed off.

“Who is Elizabeth?”

“My… fiancee. She’s the daughter of my brother’s captain. I met her at the officer’s party last year, and I proposed right before sailing here. Her letter this morning is that she’s on her father’s ship now, and will be visiting here before the end of the summer.”

“Oh, that is exciting!” she said, not quite sure if she felt disappointed or not, “What is she like?”

“She’s very sweet. She has three sisters, no brothers. Their mother doesn’t go out much when their father is at sea, so my mother helped me a bit, coming up with excuses to pay visits to her mother.”

Just then, Gerda entered from the other hall. “Your Highness, are you dressed for dinner? Oh, good! Your father wishes to see you in the library before you go."

“The library? Oh, well, I suppose so. Thank you, Gerda. Can you see if Mr. Nilsen here needs anything?"

"Of course, Your Highness," she said turning to see the young man.

"Please excuse me, Mr. Nilsen,” Inga said, hurrying away down the hall.

She tried to think of what her father could possibly want to tell her that he couldn't have told her when she was in her parents' bedroom. Perhaps she was just to make sure that Frederick was on his best behavior and not trying to interrupt. But he could tell her that at any time. In fact, she was the one who tried to get him better behaved.

She knocked on the door as she entered.

"Oh, good, Inga, Gerda found you, then?"

"Yes, Papa, what did you want to tell me?"

"Your mother and I were talking this afternoon," he began, fiddling with a book that had been left on the table, then setting it down and walking over to the window.

"Oh, no," she interrupted, "there's someone I need to meet, isn't there? Did someone offer enough money or a good enough trade deal? And why didn’t she tell me herself?"

"What?" Kristoff said blinking in confusion.

"Isn't that what this is about?" Inga realized she was shouting, and took a breath before continuing, "I really could accept it if people would just be transparent about it, but everyone seems to be talking in some kind of code. I'm tired of these mixed messages, looking me up and down, trying to see how clever I am, and how well I dance... Just tell me who I need to marry and what the benefit will be, and I'll do my duty…"

"No… what? What makes you think we would ask you to do that?"

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do with a sixteen-year-old princess?"

"No, I mean, some people do… a lot… I suppose, but… no, that is absolutely not what I was going to tell you…"

"Oh…?" she looked at his face, but he was looking at the fireplace now. He picked up a small vase as he collected his thoughts.

"We were… your mother and I, we were thinking that it's rather unfair that you're fifth in line, and if this next one is a boy, sixth, and…"

"Yes," she interrupted in a monotone, "I'm quite aware of where I stand."

"And, if you'll let me finish, your mother is going to call the council together this week to discuss changing the succession rules."

"Wait… but… what about Fred?"

"Hopefully you'll have a lot of time to discuss that some time in the future, that's up to you. But if anything happened right now, well, just to be sure…”

"Is there anything you're not telling me? Did the doctors say something?"

"No, your mother is just fine," he said, though Inga could see that same look in his eyes she remembered seeing when he finally came out of the room to see her when she was four.

"Sorry, Papa, I guess I should just say thank you," she said as he took her in for a hug, and he seemed more sure this time than the time she was little.

"Just… try to give me a little time to say things first? I don't know what that rhetoric tutor is teaching you. I never had one of those."

"You did have a French tutor," she teased as they sat down on the sofa.

"Yes, after he came storming in telling me that you were asking for Latin and Greek. I was pretty sure we'd hired him for Latin and Greek, but he seemed to think he was just to teach you French until your brothers got older."

"Oh, I remember. It wasn't that long ago. I told him I already know French, and if he wanted to teach French he should teach you."

"Yes, he told me that. I think he wanted me to punish you for impertinence, but I thought it was a good idea. He didn't seem pleased when I repeated the French he was saying, though."

"You didn't tell me that part, just that you sacked him."

"Oh, well, you were only ten. Your mother still hasn't told me what he was saying."

"Well, we should get going soon," she said, jumping up.

"We should see if Fred is already there."

"When are you going to tell him?" She asked.

"If the council decides to go forward with it, then we'll talk about it," he said, "and you don't have to, but I think…"

"Thank you, Papa," she said, running off ahead.

#kristanna #my fic #pardon my french #nobody reads these

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Party Problem

Day 9 of 2019′s 31 Days of Ficmas

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the prompt list!

Prompt: party

Rating: General

Pairing: 10xRose (pre-couple)

Summary: In hopes a relaxing night out, the Doctor attempts to take Rose to a Christmas party during the 4th Great and Bountiful Human Empire. Needless to say, plans go awry.

2019 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

---

“So, where are we going today?” Rose skipped into the console room to find the Doctor already fiddling with the coordinates.

From the other side of the console he looked up, face breaking into a wide smile at the sight of her. “Hello!” he said in that delighted way he had, as if they’d been apart for months instead of minutes. It never failed to make her heart leap, to know her mere presence brought him so much happiness. “We… are going to a Christmas party,” he said smugly, throwing the lever and sending them into flight. “And not just a Christmas party, oh no- nothing so mundane for you. No, we are going to the 20th annual official Christmas Gala, held by the Supreme Emperor of the 4th Great and Bountiful Human Empire!”

Rose’s shoulders slumped, and she stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “That sounds nice,” she said wistfully, moving towards him and crossing her arms. “Sounds beautiful, really.”

“Then what’s wrong?” His eyebrows drew together, and she had to hide a smile at his perplexed expression.

��Well, it’s just… you’ve promised me the 4th Great and Bountiful Human Empire over… and over… and have basically doomed us that wherever we land, there’ll be trouble.”

Eyes widening his jaw dropped, and for several seconds he spluttered indignantly. “You- I- That’s not- How could you- It’s just- Rose!”

She burst into laughter, having to hold herself around the middle to keep upright. “Oh, your face,” Rose gasped, howling. “Oh, that’s priceless, that is!”

“Rose! Stop laughing,” he whined, circling the console to get to her, crossing his arms and sulking. “It’s not nice. I have not doomed us.”

“But you have though! Every time, Doctor, we find trouble. Remember Satellite Five?”

He looked particularly put out, and she almost felt bad. “That wasn’t my fault,” he muttered, “sometimes the TARDIS takes us where we need to go rather than where we want to go.”

“I know,” she said soothingly, swallowing back the remaining giggles. “But you have to admit, she seems particularly against taking us there.”

“Well, this time we are going, because I have an invitation.”

“The psychic paper does not count as an invitation.”

“It’s not the psychic paper! It is a real invitation, Dame Rose, one I received many years ago in my travels and never cashed in. Would you care to join me?”

Rose hummed, adopting a quizzical expression and studying him. The longer she waited the more earnest he appeared, his Time Lords are superior posture fading to please let me take you somewhere nice, and she caved – not that she would ever say no. I’ll go anywhere with you, daft alien. For as long as you’ll have me. Don’t you know that by now? Then again, it was somewhat sweet and innocent of him to feel the need to ask, to not just make assumptions about what she wanted. “I would be absolutely delighted, Sir Doctor,” she affected a posh accent, giggling once again when he rolled his eyes. “And what, precisely, is the dress code?”

He blinked. “Uh… fancy?”

“Right, but… oh, never mind, I’m sure the TARDIS’ll make sure I choose something appropriate,” Rose shook her head, grinning wryly. “I’ll go get ready.”

With a parting bright smile she turned, strolling towards the wardrobe room.

“You have ten minutes!” he called after her.

She started running.

Twenty-seven minutes later she returned to the console room, dressed to the absolute nines. “I love this dress,” she announced, strutting in. “I feel like a princess or something.” She did a little twirl, pleased when the skirts flared out around her. “What d’you think?”

And then she stopped dead, jaw dropping slightly as she caught sight of him.

“Blimey, you cleaned up.”

It shouldn’t have been that surprising; he’d worn a suit nearly every second since he’d regenerated, and going from that to a tux wasn’t much different, but… Whoa.

“Looks all right?” he asked nervously, turning from the mirror he had propped against the rotor, his own eyes going wide at seeing her. “Wow.”

“You look… fine,” Rose swallowed, scanning him carefully. The tux seemed to be even more snug than his usual suit, and he was far more than just fine. “It’s- it’s good.” His undone bowtie caught her eye, and she didn’t waste the opportunity. “Here, let me.” Taking her time she tied it for him, before smoothing her hands along his shoulders and down the front of the jacket. “Perfect.” If her voice was a little breathier than normal he didn’t seem to notice, just stared down at her with those expressive brown eyes. As much as he tried to hide his feelings, burying them deep beneath boundless energy and childlike enthusiasm, the truth was clear as day in his eyes, finishing sentences when his mouth was incapable of doing so.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking a step back. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you.” Rose blushed, dipping her head and holding out her skirts, twirling again. “I hope there’s dancing.” I hope you dance with me.

“I’m sure there will be.”

An awkward silence ensued, broken only the abrupt landing.

“Oh!” Rose yelped, bursting into laughter as she swayed. “I guess we’re here.”

“Looks like it.” The Doctor jogged over to the monitor, peering at it intently for a moment. “Yep, this is it.”

They made their way to the door, which swung open for them of the ship’s accord; immediately, the sounds of a party floated inside to them, reassuring Rose.

“Milady?” he offered her his elbow, and with a tongue-touched grin, she took it.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

And they entered the party.

It took two hours.

“Doctor, where the hell are you?” Rose hissed, running for her life down a portrait gallery, guards chasing her – she had a momentary advantage, being able to dart and weave through secret doors they didn’t know she was aware of. Carrying her heels and running in stockinged feet helped, though the guards were slowly gaining. “Shit. I knew this would happen, didn’t I say so?”

She careened around a corner while glancing over her shoulder, only to be forcefully jerked sideways. Fighting back a scream, she blinked frantically to get her vision to adjust to the dark closet she was suddenly in.

“You okay?”

Rose sagged at the familiar voice, relaxing back against the door as she realized the body framing her was none other than the Doctor’s. “Yes. Where have you been?”

“Me? You’re the one who- who keeps wandering off!”

“Shh!”

They fell silent as the guards ran past their hiding spot, waiting an eternity until the Doctor shifted her out of the way, cracking open the door and listening intently. “Coast is clear,” he whispered, “and I’ve got a way out. Trust me?”

“You’re an idiot,” she hissed back, letting that linger for a moment before adding, “if you think the answer to that is anything other than ‘yes’. Now get us out of here!”

“That was mean,” he grumbled petulantly, opening the door fully and creeping towards the left. “Come on.”

“That’s them!” The shout came from the other direction, and they both looked to see a second contingent of guards pointing in their direction.

“Oh… come on! Run!”

Shaking her head in exasperation, Rose bundled her skirts in the same hand as her shoes, took the Doctor’s hand, and did as he said.

Amazing how much more fun this is with his hand in mine.

They made it into the TARDIS with seconds to spare, and Rose could feel the guards grasping for her dress as they tumbled through the doors. The moment they slammed shut Rose collapsed onto the ramp, panting as she dropped her shoes and hem while the Doctor made his way to the console and sent them into flight.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered from where he hunched over the controls, and the image was so similar to just before he regenerated that Rose had a visceral reaction, jumping up and hurrying over to him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, internally panicked by how downtrodden he appeared. “I know you didn’t mean for that to happen- though I’m not quite clear on what did happen. One second I’m laughing at the Crown Prince’s joke, the next guards were chasing me.”

The Doctor finally lifted his head, an ancient, dark look in his eye that did more to remind her of who he really was, what he was, than the time machine she lived on. “I accidentally uncovered a coup in progress,” he admitted. “The General was planning on murdering the Emperor and seizing the throne. He wasn’t pleased when I blurted my realization out in front of the Emperor.”

Rose couldn’t help but snort. “Sounds like you.” She hadn’t been able to help wondering, while darting through the Imperial Palace, if he’d started trouble because the Crown Prince had been monopolizing her time.

“I just wanted to take you somewhere nice,” he lamented, turning to lean back against the console and raking his eyes over her. “Let you get dressed up and let your hair down. We’ve been running nonstop for weeks now.”

She shrugged her shoulders, stepping closer and patting his bicep. “I don’t care. I love it. All of it. Running from trouble, or to trouble, or just… having breakfast in the galley. I appreciate the effort, but… any time with you is time well spent.”

His eyes met hers, and she fought to not blink, trying to keep herself still. She was tired, and sore, and in desperate need of a shower, but she let him see the truth of her words, how she really felt, things speakable and unspeakable alike.

After a minute his mouth tightened and he nodded.

“Movie night, then?”

“After a shower,” she agreed, giving an over-exaggerated sniff before grinning. “Twenty minutes?”

He nodded again, and she turned towards the corridor that led to her room.

“By the way…” she stopped in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder to find he hadn’t moved, “we can have a fancy dress party just the two of us without leaving the ship, you know. Next time you want to see me kitted out like this. Just so you know.”

And she disappeared down the hall, humming to herself as she went.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #ficandchips #Doctor Who #10xRose #10th Doctor #Rose Tyler #party

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chocoholicannanymous · 5 years

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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) pt VIII

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI. and pt VII.

Readjusting to life at Dalton is a lot easier than Kurt had feared. It helps that he isn't scared witless this time, of course. It also helps that Blaine isn't there to monopolize his time – which, in hindsight, had been the root of a lot of Kurt's isolation. Now he's got the Warblers for real, and Sebastian. He's also got a much better understanding of what it'll take to keep on top of academics, and how much he can allow himself to relax. He hadn't known that last time.

(There's a nagging thought that Blaine must have known, yet said nothing, that refuses to leave his brain. It's not a pleasant one.)

Another difference is that this time Kurt's not looking to return to McKinley. Last time he'd wasted valuable time and energy trying to come up with a way to return, and daydreaming about being back. This time's different. He chose Dalton this time, and he's staying no matter what.

Also, things being what they are he's not spending large chunks of his time with Mercedes and Rachel. From what Finn reports Rachel is furious – that Kurt's left, that he's not getting punished for the election and that he's left them another person down for Sectionals. Kurt's okay with that, seeing as she hadn't exactly been a great friend before he left. As for her rantings, well. If she spreads the cheating rumors too far Kurt'll deal with it – or his dad will – and the rest is easy to ignore.

He does miss Mercedes, but at the same time he's not willing to bend enough to fix things between them. Not this time.

She didn't believe in him.

It's that simple. He was on the verge of suspension, and Mercedes didn't believe in him. She wasn't even enough of a friend to pretend she did in public. Adding her behavior over Blaine's disappearance and West Side Story.... It's up to her to make the first move, and there's nothing guaranteeing their friendship can be salvaged in the end.

So instead of spending time and energy on the mess that is the New Directions – because even with the split that's who they are – Kurt throws himself into making the most of his time at Dalton.

“I'm sorry we can't give you a solo.”

Kurt stares at Sebastian. A solo? Where did that come from? Because honestly, Kurt hadn't expect one, nor had he entirely decided if he should audition for one or not.

“We talked about it and we all know you could use it, and none of us is applying to performing arts' schools. It's simply too close to Sectionals for us to rework our setlist. Not if we want to go on to Regionals. If we do though, then we've agreed that you get a solo.”

There's a hint of pink on Sebastian's cheeks, but Kurt doesn't have the energy to try and analyze that now. It's probably Sebastian's way of apologizing or something.

“Auditions?”

“Right. I guess that this is when I tell you that the Warblers have changed how things are run. Used to be someone auditioned, and then the council decided. Only everyone knew that auditions pretty much were a sham. David and Thad admitted as much themselves, once the others started pushing. After all, it is kind of hard to pretend auditions matter when the person ending up with all the solos never even participated in the auditions in the first place.”

Which... True. Kurt just never thought the Warblers would become aware enough to see that. Maybe it's a side-effect of Wes being gone. Him and his cursed gavel...

“So now the council is gone, and everyone gets a vote on solos. And this time everyone agreed that if we make it to Regionals it was only fair to offer you a spot.”

And well, that changes things. Hopefully.

“Well, it's much appreciated either way. It's a little too late to add a Regionals solo on my NYADA application but I should be able to add it to some of the others.”

Because he is applying to other schools, regardless of what he and Rachel agreed to. Only applying to one school? Insanity. Especially a school like NYADA, which accept only 60 students per year, and only 20 of them for the concentration Kurt (and Rachel) had applied for. What if they doesn't accept him, then what? Was he supposed to stay in Lima and reapply? Spend a year or several working at the garage or in some store while his meager CV became more and more dust-covered by the minute?

No. He's applying to every school in New York that'll suit him – and a few that won't – plus another couple elsewhere. He's even considering throwing in an application to Ohio State, since the campus in Columbus offers a couple of options when it comes to theater and music. Not that he wants to stay in Ohio, not really, but he'll go just about anywhere as long as it's not Lima.

“Well, dreaming about Regionals is all very nice, but we're not there yet. Also, there are other things to consider as well, like passing all my classes. You wouldn't be willing to lend me your notes for French for a night or two, would you? Oh, and I'm not sure I interpreted the third question for our advanced reading homework correctly, so do you think we could sit down and talk it over?”

It's easier to focus on schoolwork, on grammar and linguistics, than on the strangeness of Sebastian's actions. Much easier.

Sectionals comes and goes – and leaves a trophy behind. The Warblers celebrate, and Kurt with them. If his joy is also about the possibility of a solo... Well. Who can blame him?

That is, of course, if what Sebastian said still goes. There's no reason to think it shouldn't, not really, but Kurt remembers being burnt too well to not be cautious.

Regardless, they won't be competing against the New Directions at Regionals. The Troubletones had wiped the floor with their former teammates, and Kurt can't say he's surprised. Finn isn't either, even if it's obvious that he's unhappy about it. Oh, he tries to hide it, but. He's used to winning, loves it, and was already thinking about how to do better at Nationals than last years.

And now that's not going to happen.

“They deserved it, I don't care what anyone” read Rachel “thinks. I know how much they've been rehearsing.”

And the New Directions, true to form, hadn't. Or so Kurt supposes. After all, they hadn't had a setlist when he left, and Finn hasn't complained about suddenly ending up with a ton of extra rehearsals.

“Finn? I know they are good, but I also know you guys are. And it's okay if you're not happy about losing, even to them. It sucks to lose something you really want and losing to your friends doesn't make it easier. Not at first at least.”

“Experience talking, huh?”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Kurt still remembers how it'd hurt to lose to his friends, and not even going back to them had made it feel better. He'd gone to Nationals feeling that he didn't deserve it, and knowing that Mr Schue thought the same.

“You know what really sucks about all of this? We had a suggestion for a setlist that would have given us the win. Michael Jackson songs, solos for everyone... I think it would have been awesome.”

“Let me guess, Rachel flipped.”

It's not even a question, because obviously she would have. Allowing everyone solos? No matter how small, that would have meant less time in the spotlight for her. Just as it wouldn't have mattered how great the suggested songs were, because Michael Jackson isn't something Rachel would be able to do well.

And of course Mr Schue would have folded faster than wet cardboard once she started complaining, neither of them caring that by catering to Rachel's demands they weakened the group.

“Oh yeah. And now she's on a 'woe is me because NYADA' tear, and it's driving me insane. Well, everyone. I'm pretty sure Tina's on the verge of punching her. Plus, she... Anyway, Glee sucks now.”

“She's blaming me, isn't she? For leaving, and for supposedly making Blaine leave.”

It makes sense, in a totally-not-unless-you're-Rachel-Berry way, and it's nothing less than Kurt's been expecting if he's honest. Because there's no way Rachel would ever lose gracefully, just as there's no way she'd accept the rightful blame for having messed up.

“You guessed that, huh? Yeah, sorry. I don't know what's gotten into her, I swear.”

“She's being the worst version of herself. I knew I made myself a target by leaving, I just didn't care. Then again I already was one, so I guess that's 'bigger' target. And I can't imagine she took it any better knowing that the Warblers won our Sectionals.”

Kurt can practically hear Finn wince over the phone, which is never an encouraging thing – and yet, much too frequent with Rachel Berry in the picture.

“I...might have told her that I wouldn't talk to her about it, and walked out the door when she did it anyway?”

Kurt removes the phone from his ear, stares at it, shakes it to see if anything is broken inside, stares at it again and then replaces it.

“I'm sorry, you what? Are you telling me you finally located your balls when it comes to a girl?”

And then it's Kurt's time to audibly wince, because while true that's also extremely rude – and crude – and Finn doesn't deserve it. Not even though it's true.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”

“Nah, it's nothing I don't deserve. I just, I've had it okay? I love Rachel, I do, but sometimes I'm not so sure I like her. And the past few weeks have been worse than usual. When we got back together it was supposed to be for this year, since she's going to New York after graduation. Which I figured I could get around, you know? Part of me wants to ask her to marry me and commit to going to New York with her. Another part figured it'll never work since she can't respect anything or anyone outside of herself and her dreams.

“She only changed her mind about sex because Artie told her she wasn't credible onstage otherwise, and she didn't even tell me at first. Then she's been an absolute bitch about everything with you. So let's say I change her mind and we get married. What else will she do?

“I'm not sure about being with her at all anymore, and it's not breaking my heart like it should.”

Hearing that? Kind of breaks Kurt's heart though. Once upon a time he'd have been ecstatic to hear something like this from Finn. Now he's grown beyond that, and all he wants for Finn is happiness. (That he's not sure Rachel can provide that isn't really the point. Up until now Finn has believed it, and that's the only thing that matters.)

“I'm sorry. Do you... I'll be home Friday evening. Want me to bring some cookies and watch a movie, or do you have plans?”

“Peanut butter chocolate chips? Plus, Captain America comes out on DVD this week, and I know you like Chris Evans.”

“I really really do.”

They both laugh, and if Finn's is a bit strained neither of them are going to admit it. What's important here is that regardless of everything they've got each other.

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #a wild sebastian appears #in 2019 we finish our wips #if the spit hits the fan #scraps and snippets #brotherly furt

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lastbluetardis · 5 years

Text

Chemical Potential (4/11)

Summary: Slightly homesick and stressed about her abysmal chemistry grade, Rose Tyler meets quirky James Smith, the boy who sits in front of her in their chemistry class. They become fast friends as James makes it his personal mission to help Rose get through the semester.

Ten x Rose University AU

This chapter: ~4200 words, light teen

Notes: This was written for the lovely @thegreenfairy13 as part of the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange.

AO3 | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | epilogue

The morning of the Philadelphia trip dawned before the sun was even up as Rose awoke early to pack a lunch and snacks, then catch the town bus to make it in time to the university by eight. She was fifteen minutes early and bleary-eyed as she waited for James and the other students going on the trip.

She began to get worried as the time drew nearer to eight but he still hadn’t arrived. She’d already been joined by a dozen other people and made idle, sleepy chit-chat with them before going back to keeping a lookout for him. Right as everyone was beginning to make their way onto the charter bus, Rose heard him call out her name.

With a grin, she let the people behind her board the bus.

“Not at all cutting it close, are you?” she asked, bumping her shoulder into his.

“Pfft, it’s seven fifty-nine,” he said will a roll of his eyes. “I’m perfectly on time, thank you very much. Early, in fact. Come on, let’s get seats.”

He reached out and threaded their fingers together even though the bus doors were ten feet away. He gave her fingers a slight squeeze then dropped her hand to check his name off the list. When she followed suit, they meandered down the center aisle and sat down on cushy seats near the middle of the bus.

The drive to Philadelphia passed by uneventfully, and Rose kept her gaze directed out the window as she watched the Pennsylvanian landscape fly by. She was captivated by the vast amounts of empty, rolling hills and farmland that stretched between the small towns they passed through. There was so much green everywhere she looked.

Even as they drove into Philly, Rose was amazed by how small the city seemed, especially when compared to the sprawling bustle of London.

“So, do you have any ideas of where you’d like to go or what you wanna do today?” James asked when they’d exited the bus.

He raised his arms above his head and leaned back, stretching from their hour-and-a-half-long bus ride. His sweatshirt rode up his slim hips, and Rose got a peek of a thin sliver of skin between the waistband of his jeans and his shirt. Her gaze fell upon the dark, downy hair near his navel, and her cheeks flamed as she directed her attention away.

“Er, I made a list of ideas,” she answered, tugging her phone out of the pocket of her jacket. She sucked in a sharp breath when James pressed himself into her back to peer over her shoulder at her list. She was a little embarrassed that most of her list was comprised of free sights and attractions; those that did cost money, she’d listed the price beside each location. If James noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Let’s do tours of the historical sites first thing this morning,” he suggested. “Those tend to get more populated as the day goes on. Then we can hit some of the museums. Sound good?”

“Well, what about you?” she asked. “Do you have anything you want to see?”

“Your list actually contains a few places I’ve never been,” James said. “Philadelphia museum of art. Penn museum. Though if it’s all right with you, I’d love to visit the Eastern State Penitentiary. I’ve never been yet. A few of my mates have tried to drag me to the haunted Terror Behind the Walls exhibit they do at this time of year, but I hate spooky places and jump scares.”

James let out a dramatic shudder that scrunched up his face. It was endearing, and Rose bit her lip around a giggle.

“Okay, lead the way,” she said. “Take me out on the town, James Smith.”

His cheeks flushed a little red, but his smile was wide as he threaded his arm through hers and dragged her towards the historic district.

Rose found herself utterly enthralled in the history of the city, and she knew part of it was having James as her own personal tour guide. He knew everything, it seemed, and he often gave her the history of the various sites, monuments, and structures as they came across them. Never mind the fact that there were employees offering up the same information.

“Philadelphia was actually the capital of the United States for about a decade there at the beginning,” James told her as they toured Independence Hall. “Whilst Washington, D.C. was being built. Actually, several cities have had the honor of being the capital, if even for a day, like good ol’ Lancaster.”

Rose started.

“Oh, not the Lancaster of the UK,” James said, chuckling. “Nah, there’s a tiny little county about, ooh… sixty or seventy miles west of here called Lancaster. It’s a quaint little place. Huge Amish population—a religious group that migrated to America after a schism between Swiss and German Anabaptists. We’ll have to make a day trip some Saturday. Loads of homemade goods are sold there. Amish furniture is beautiful. Ooh, let’s take a selfie!”

They took photos together at all of the sites they visited. Rose’s stomach warmed every time James wrapped his arm around her and tugged her snugly into his side before he snapped their picture.

“Can you send me some of those?” Rose finally asked after their fifth photo together.

“Absolutely. I’ll put them on Facebook. That might be easiest rather than me sending you a million texts with the photos. D’you have Facebook?”

Rose bobbed her head in affirmation, and James pulled out his phone, tapped on the screen, then said with a grin, “Friend request sent!”

They finished their tours of the historic sites by eleven, and so they decided to check off one of the museums before they broke for lunch. As they walked through the city to get to the art museum, they encountered a large group of people passing out flyers.

James politely took the info packets; Rose realized the group was endorsing the Hillary Clinton campaign.

“Do you think Donald Trump actually stands a chance in the election?” Rose asked curiously

“God, I hope not,” James said, shoving the flyers deep into his pockets. “Back home, the UK certainly dodged a bullet by voting to stay a member of the EU. Hopefully America can dodge this bullet, too. I pray my fellow Americans make the wise decision and vote in a competent leader rather than the buffoon the Republican party has selected as their candidate.”

“Are you an American citizen?” Rose asked, surprised.

He nodded, the motion sending his fringe into his eyes. He brushed it back as he said, “Yup. Aunt Sarah knew she’d be in America for a long time and wanted to be politically active, so when we moved here, we both filed for citizenship. I hold dual citizenship for the UK and the US.”

They’d arrived at the art museum, and James held open the front door for Rose before following her inside. After they paid for admission and took a cursory glance at the map, they strode hand-in-hand through the museum.

Rose was utterly enthralled, and she hoped James was enjoying himself as much as she was. She knew a science museum would probably have been his preference, and while she appreciated that he’d come with her, she couldn’t help but feel that she’d monopolized the trip with her interests. Especially since he’d been the person to tell her about the trip in the first place.

They spent nearly two hours at the museum of art, visiting every single exhibit, and by the time they left, Rose’s stomach was aching with hunger.

“I’m famished,” James said, patting his flat belly. “For lunch, you have got to try an authentic Philly cheesesteak. Come on!” He grabbed her hand and made to tug her down the city block.

“Er, I actually brought my own lunch,” Rose said sheepishly, tugging him to a halt.

“You can’t come to Philadelphia and not get a cheesesteak,” he protested.

Rose sighed and clenched her jaw as she forced herself to look up at him. “James, I’m on a budget. I’ve allotted fifty dollars for this whole day. I’d rather spend that money on museums and stuff.”

“It can be my treat,” he said immediately.

“I don’t need charity,” she snapped.

He shook his head and said, “It’s not charity. It’s one mate taking another mate to lunch. Since you packed a lunch and didn’t plan for the expense of buying a meal, it’s only fair and logical that I treat you.”

“No, it’s fine. I can eat the food I brought.”

“Oh, come on. I seriously don’t mind—”

Rose ground her teeth together, her temper flaring, before she finally hissed, “What don’t you understand about ‘no’?”

He recoiled as though she’d hit him. His jaw hung open, flabbergasted, and his mouth moved for a few silent seconds but no words came out.

Rose wanted to scream. She’d been having such a lovely day with him; it was the lightest she’d felt in a very long time, and she didn’t want anything to change. Praying that he would be a bloke that knew how to accept ‘no’ for an answer, she folded her arms across her front and tried to ignore the roaring of her heart in her ears.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Rose nodded, but she let out a huge, relieved breath even though something in her chest cracked at the sadness in his voice. He hung his head and scuffed his trainers against the ground, and she found herself wanting to explain. It was obvious he came from a well-off family, but he needed to understand that she didn’t, and that it didn’t give him the right to buy his way into getting his way.

“My mum and I grew up poor,” Rose muttered. “Like… council estate poor. Government assistance programs poor. My mum… she wasn’t above taking advantage of the free or reduced cost of things. And she sometimes used me to help her agenda of why she needed or deserved a discount for something, appealing to the humanity and generosity of others because she had a small daughter to care for. And I hated that. I hated it. Since I could, I’ve been paying my own way for things, and if I couldn’t afford it, I simply went without. I refuse to become my mother.”

James’s eyes were soft as his lips pursed in sympathy. But it didn’t feel like pity, for which Rose was grateful.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. After a beat, he added, “My mum and dad were generous people. Raised me to be generous, too. To help out when I could. Same with my Aunt Sarah. It’s a natural response for me, y’know, to offer to pay for things. Especially if it’s my idea. I don’t intend for it to be charity, or something that I use to place another person in my debt. I just want to dote on the people I— my friends.”

His cheeks pinkened, but he kept her gaze. His face was earnest, and she couldn’t help but believe him. He was so different from other men she’d had dealings with, especially Jimmy, who would always drop mentions of how much money he’d spent on her.

At his explanation, the question that had been burning through her brain for the past couple weeks finally took hold of her. “Can I ask—?” But Rose cut herself off, knowing it was a personal question, and if James had wanted to talk about it, he would’ve shared on his own terms. “Never mind.”

James’s gaze was knowing, if not a little resigned, as he said, “It’s okay. You can ask.”

“No, it’s not my business,” Rose said firmly, not wanting him to feel obligated to tell her anything he wasn’t comfortably sharing.

He nodded, looking a little relieved. So when he spoke again, Rose was surprised and humbled by his candor.

“My parents died,” he said, his voice quiet and somber. “Our house caught fire. I was thirteen.”

Her heart throbbed, and she stepped closer to him to take his hand. But that felt woefully inadequate, so she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her mind was a mess of sorrow and sympathy, but among it all was the utterly absurd realization that this was the first hug she’d initiated with James. She liked it. She liked being close to him and touching him, either holding his hand, hugging him, or simply sitting so close that their shoulders and thighs brushed together. She felt completely at ease around him, as though she could truly be herself and not worry about being ridiculed or self-conscious.

Somehow, though she’d only known this boy for a couple weeks, he’d already woven himself so deeply into her very being and had become an integral and important part of her life. That realization both scared her and comforted her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Were you in the house? Wait, sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“Yeah. My dad got me out, then went inside to help my mum, who was trying to get our stupid bloody dogs to get outside. Then the fire hit the gas line. Instant explosion. I was deaf for two days. I’ve still got a bit of ringing in my ears that the doctors say will never fade.” James let out a shrug that was too stiff to be nonchalant. “I went to live with my Aunt Sarah after that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Me too.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, just holding each other. Rose rubbed her cheek into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and breathed in the smell of him, letting it calm her and erase her earlier irritation with him. His heartbeat echoed beneath her ear; the rhythm was hypnotic.

“I kinda killed the mood,” she said regretfully, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Maybe a little,” James said, but a small smile had crossed his lips. “But I sorta did too by being a prat.” He gave her a squeeze before dropping his arms from around her. “I didn’t pack myself a lunch. Do you mind if I get a cheesesteak?”

“Nah, I figured I’d make you starve while I ate my sandwich in front of you.”

“Smartarse.”

He twined their fingers together and tugged her down the street to find lunch. He’d offered one last time to buy her something, but acquiesced graciously when she turned him down again.

Though as they sat down to eat, he’d pushed half of the sandwich towards her.

“At least try a small bite?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

Rose sighed but picked up the hot cheesesteak and took a bite. The juices from the meat burst across her tongue, mixing with the flavors of melted cheese and fresh, homemade bread. While it was good, she wasn’t entirely sure why James had made such a huge fuss.

After their meal, James hailed them an Uber to begin their various tours of the museums. It was the most fun Rose had had in a long time, and the giddiness she felt was so reminiscent of the first few months of her relationship with Jimmy.

Not wanting to think about him, Rose focused instead on the bloke beside her as they toured the creepy but fascinating Eastern State Penitentiary. The architecture was beautiful, as each wing of the prison jutted out from the center like spokes of a wheel. Though they were listening to an audio tour of the prison, she had to frequently pause the program as James started on his own commentary.

They ended the day with a photo by the prison gates, bathed in the orange light of the setting sun. An elderly woman had offered to take the picture, and James eagerly handed over his phone. Rose snuggled deep into his side as she wrapped her arm around his narrow middle. James held her just as close, and she grinned at the camera feeling so totally, perfectly happy.

Content though she was, Rose was exhausted when they’d caught up with the rest of the university students that evening for the bus ride home. Her feet were sore from walking, and she was hungry again.

She plopped down into her seat and groaned as her aching feet were relieved from duty for the next hour and a half. She then dug through her bag for the container of pretzels she’d packed.

“Want some?” she asked, holding them out towards James.

He nodded and for a few minutes, they crunched their snack in silence. When she’d put the empty container back and settled in for the ride home, James asked, “Did you have a nice time?” His voice was uncharacteristically timid.

“Yeah, I did.” She turned her head to face him. “Thank you for telling me about this trip. And suggesting I come. And spending the day with me.”

He smiled at her, then leaned further into his seat. Rose stifled a yawn and tilted her head back, closing her eyes to rest them for a minute. The deep rumble of the bus’s engine and the rhythmic rocking as they sped down the highway lulled her into further relaxation.

She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she jolted awake sometime later. The bus was dark, except for the glow of phones as her fellow students entertained themselves. Her cheek was pressed into fabric that smelled achingly familiar, and she squeaked when she realized she’d been using James’s shoulder as a pillow.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, sitting up straight.

“No worries,” he said. “You can keep napping if you’d like. Though we’re only about fifteen minutes out from the school.”

Rose yawned and arched her back in a seated stretch, groaning when she felt the base of her spine pop.

She was still slightly drowsy when they pulled into the university, and she dreaded the bus ride home. She wished she could teleport back to her flat.

“Can I walk you to your car?” James asked when they’d clambered off the bus.

“I don’t have one,” Rose said. “I take the bus.”

James frowned. “Let me drive you home, then? It’s late and you’re exhausted.”

Rose was about to immediately protest, but in truth, she was exhausted. Standing up seemed to take all of her energy, and God only knew when the next bus would arrive.

Yawning, she agreed and followed him to a sleek blue sedan. James grabbed her elbow when she made to walk around the car and said, “We’re in America, remember?”

Rose blinked, then realized she’d been about to walk to the driver’s seat. James held open the car door, and once she was situated with her seatbelt on, he moved to his own side of the vehicle.

After he’d programmed her address into his phone’s GPS, they passed the drive in relative silence, both too tired to make much conversation. But the silence wasn’t awkward, thankfully, and Rose found herself clenching her hands into fists to keep from reaching over and threading her fingers through the hand that sat limply on his thigh as he drove. It was one thing to hold hands as they explored a foreign city together; it was another thing entirely to hold hands in the closeness of a dark car.

Rose shivered with the imagined intimacy, her brain unhelpfully supplying her with memories of how it would feel if she plucked up the courage to take his hand. His fingers would move automatically, slipping through hers until their palms were pressed tightly together. His skin would be warm and soft except for the writing callus on his middle finger. His thumb would absently stroke the back of hers, making her feel so loved—

Rose halted those thoughts dead in their tracks and backpedaled as fast as she could. What was she even thinking? James was her friend! Admittedly, he felt like one of her best friends, as though she’d known him her whole life rather than two weeks. But still! They were just friends.

Rose was relieved when James pulled up in front of her apartment building ten minutes later. It wasn’t much to look at: an old building with peeling paint and wooden steps that probably were on the fringe of passing safety inspections. But it was relatively cheap, and she lived by herself.

She was vaguely aware that James had unbuckled his seatbelt, and before she could protest, he leaped out of his car and jogged around to her side. After she stood, he rested his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the front steps.

Oh, God, does he want to come in?

Before she could panic, James said, “I’ll see you on Monday. I— I had a really nice day today, Rose.”

“Me too,” she said through a dry mouth.

He gave her a small smile, and he paused for the briefest of seconds before he shoved his hands into his pockets and skipped down the stairs to his car.

Her heart hammered against her ribs and she spun back around to him.

“Hey, James?”

He whirled around to face her, an unreadable expression on his face.

What was she even going to say? I think I’m a little bit smitten with you… Rose scoffed at herself. But James was waiting expectantly, and finally she said lamely, “Let me know when you’ve made it home safely.”

It must have been a trick of the shadows, but Rose was sure she saw his face fall slightly. However, when she blinked, the expression was gone and he was smiling.

“Will do. Nighty night, Rose.”

“Night.”

She waited on the front porch until he’d gotten back into his car and drove away. She then turned and headed inside, bounding up half a dozen flights of stairs to reach the top floor.

Her apartment was dark and cold when she entered, and a pang of loneliness rippled through her. She pushed it down and instead tugged off her jacket and haphazardly tossed her handbag onto the table then moved down the hall.

She rushed through a shower to wash of the grime of wandering through a city all day, and by the time she crawled into bed, James had texted her.

Made it home, safe and sound!

“Glad to hear,” she replied. “I’m off to bed. Gotta work in the morning. Night!”

Nighty night. Sleep tight.

But try as she might, Rose couldn’t fall asleep. She lay in her dark bedroom, trying to clear her mind and breathe slowly and deeply, but thoughts of James kept creeping back. The way his hand felt in hers, the way his lanky body fit perfectly against hers, the way his whole face lit up when he smiled… All of that was burned into her brain.

With a groan, Rose rolled over and punched her pillow into a better position to support her neck.

Stupid James bloody Smith. Stupid, stupid Rose!

It was a long night, with Rose drifting between sleeping and wakefulness. She was almost glad when her alarm sounded at six the next morning, because at least she was released from her purgatory.

After snoozing her alarm, Rose stayed snuggled under her blankets for a few minutes to check her phone. She skimmed her email—mostly junk—then browsed Instagram, Snapchat, Tumblr, then Facebook, where she had a few notifications.

Friend request from James Smith. She accepted it, then moved to the notifications telling her James Smith had tagged her in thirty-seven photos. But before she could take a look at any, her alarm blared at her once more, forcing her out of bed.

Thanking her past self for showering the night before, she pulled on jeans, her work polo, and her comfiest pair of shoes before sprinting outside and to the bus stop, where she’d had to wait only a minute before boarding the nearly-empty bus.

Once she was settled in a seat, she pulled her phone out again to take a look at the photos James had uploaded. The first half of the album was cheesy, touristy photos of Philadelphia, of the various museums, monuments, and landmarks. But then came the photos they’d taken together.

Her breath caught in her throat as she perused them. They’d started off stiffly, with each of them standing a casual distance apart. Then they’d draped their arms around each other’s waists. By the time Rose reached the selfies they’d taken towards the end of the day, they’d been wrapped around each other. She’d leaned into his chest; he’d rested his cheek against her head. They looked like friends who’d known each other for decades. Or a couple…

Rose frantically tried to derail that thought. No good would ever come of it. It didn’t matter that her heart swelled several sizes too big whenever she looked at James. It didn’t matter that he sent butterflies soaring through her stomach whenever he smiled. It didn’t matter that her skin sparked with electricity whenever they touched.

She’d never felt like this about anyone before. Though she’d loved Jimmy—or at least she’d thought she’d loved him—what she’d felt for Jimmy seemed to be a drop in the ocean now.

How had this happened? She’d known James for all of two weeks! How was she already so hopelessly, completely, inexorably in love with him?

It didn’t matter how hard she’d tried to shove that thought away, the truth of it resounded through her with a finality that terrified her. She was in love with James Smith.

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