#I believed his words on marriage like a dummy cause I thought we believed the same | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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Make it back to me - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy fulfills his promise and gives you a future together.

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, insecure!Andy for a minute there, divorce, talks of infidelity because reader was the other woman, breeding kink

A/N: this is technically a follow-up to this drabble I wrote during kinktober!

Andy’s P.O.V.

My heart was pounding against my chest even before her beautiful face appeared from the office’s door. It was clear that she was confused, but I was too excited about it to even be able to verbalize what had happened and what we were about to do. So the plan was to just show her.

“You know, I usually like surprises, but this one is freaking me out,” she commented, and I laughed, throwing a glance at the rearview mirror before taking us out of the firm’s parking lot. I rubbed my thumbs on her knees, squeezing it in a hopefully reassuring gesture while I hummed a random song that had been stuck in my head since earlier.

I still couldn’t believe it.

I thought that maybe she would have connected the dots when I parked in an apartment complex’s garage, but by the inquisitive look she threw me, it was clear that wasn’t the case at all. So I laughed when I held her hand, kissing the back of it before pulling her along with me, up the stairs to the front hall.

“Andy, are you crazy? We can’t be holding hands in public like this. What if someone from the firm lives here and sees us together?” She whisper-shouted, and an euphoric feeling took over my chest at the realization of just how incredible my life was.

“Someone from the firm does live here,” I conceded, hugging her from behind and leaning down to fit my chin on her shoulder. “Me.” Saying it out loud only made it feel even more real, especially since she whipped her head to try to get a look at me, in an effort to understand just what I meant.

“What?” I only laughed, reaching out for her hand again and giving it a squeeze when the elevator doors opened, immediately stepping out to look for the door I held the key to. “Andy, what do you mean?”

I only smiled, patiently opening the door before letting her walk in and following behind. “Sweetheart… Meet my new apartment.” Once more, her head whipped around to stare at me, interrupting her visual exploration of the new environment.

“Andy…”

“I’m divorced,” I interrupted, effectively shutting her up. “It was finalized this morning. I talked to Laurel the day after that party. The day you got your promotion. I didn’t tell you before because I wanted it to be a sure thing,” I immediately explained when I saw her open her mouth to interject, but then she closed it, nodding as she accepted my justification.

“So while I waited for it to be processed, I bought this place. Do you like it? I was hoping you’d move in with me, I can’t wait to christen every room of this apartment.” Once again, she seemed surprised by my words, stopping her evaluation of the living room to stare at me with eyes twice their usual size.

“But you just… Andy, you just got divorced. Quite literally. You can’t tell me you want to immediately jump into the routine of a relationship again.” Frowning, I stepped forward, in her direction, arms reaching out to hold her hips so I could keep her in place while I tried to understand her emotions.

“You don’t want to be in a relationship with me?” My heart ached at the prospect, but she only huffed, rolling her eyes at me. Immediately, I felt somewhat comforted, although still confused about what was going on through her head.

“Of course I want to be in a relationship with you, you dummy. I just… I fear you’re jumpin too soon into this, and that you’ll grow to resent me. I don’t want to lose you.” Hearing her voice my own fears only made the need to have her closer rise within me, so before I could even realize what I was doing, I had her face cradled between my hands and our lips were connected again, as they always should be.

“And I don’t want to lose you,” I decided to voice it, so she could understand exactly where all of this was coming from, how it wasn’t simply a spur-of-the-moment gesture, any of it. “So what do you think I should do? Keep our relationship without strings, fearing that any moment now someone else will come and sweep you off of your feet? I don’t want to fuck anyone else, sweetheart. And I’ve been dreaming about living all of this domestic shit with you for a while, now. My marriage with Laurel didn’t end because I suddenly despised my ring, it ended because I didn’t love her anymore. But I love you. And I want this with you. Only you.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Now, what else could I possibly say? This was everything I had dreamed about, everything I’d been wishing for since day one, since my eyes connected with Andy’s and we shook hands in the office. And here he was, offering me a future together on a silver platter and I couldn’t find it in myself to fight against it anymore, even if the rational part of me thought this was a mistake.

Or maybe it was only my anxiety speaking, trying to get me to chicken out, to run away, convince me that this isn’t real and I’m not worthy of all of this love. Because the truth was, I was scared. Scratch that, I was downright *terrified. Because somewhere between the stolen kisses and the longing glances, I’d fallen head over heels for the man standing in front of me, who just poured his heart out in search of mine, and I never wanted to lose him.

“Okay,” was all I managed to say, instead, all I could get out. “Okay, let’s do this.” But still, maybe because Andy really was my long-lost soulmate, he seemed to understand. He managed to read between the lines, hear my devotion and my love in those simple words. I knew it because his eyes lit up, and just like that, I was being embraced by those delicious arms again, held like I was the most precious thing he had ever encountered and the only thing he needed to be happy.

He was everything to me.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Everything felt different, every pet name, every touch. It was sweeter, purer. There was no overwhelming pressure of rushing through this, trying to escape the sin, the guilt. This man was mine, now. I could finally relish every single second of this experience.

“I’ve wanted you since we’ve met,” I finally managed to admit it, making sure to look him in the eye so he could see just how serious I was about this. “I’m just so happy we finally get to be together, like… like a real couple.”

His soft smile was the reason for my heart faltering at times, and when he paired it with light brushes over my cheekbone with his thumbs, it was powerful enough to make me weak in the knees. Still, because it was Andy, after all, he couldn’t help but to tease me - I knew I should expect it from the mischief in his eyes.

“So, everything we did before, it doesn’t count?” I huffed at the same time he started laughing, barely seeing me rolling my eyes at his childish behavior since he had tears in his. And despite how much I wanted to be annoyed at him for ruining such a beautiful moment, I could only feel warm inside from seeing him this happy, and being here to share this new beginning of his.

“You know what? No, it doesn’t, daddy. You’re gonna have to get me reacquainted with your cock all over again. Are you up for the challenge?” He laughed out loud at this, beautiful face suddenly looking boyish as his eyes closed for a moment. so that he could fully enjoy his happiness.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“When you look this fuckable? It won’t be a challenge at all, darling.” I watched with perverse pleasure as she shivered from my words, eyes suddenly darkening with lust as she bit her lower lip. “Now c’mon. Let’s start christening this place.”

My first step was the bedroom, of course. I had bought a new bed with the sole intention of ravishing her on it. Sleep was secondary. “Take off your clothes,” I commanded as soon as we were inside the new room, quickly taking off my shirt before sitting on the mattress. “Slowly,” I added when I saw her initially run to obey, but then a small smile painted her beautiful lips as her movements became more fluid.

“Someone wants a show,” she teased, revealing her perfect body little by little, each new inch making the anticipation rise in me. Damn right I wanted a show. But any amount of time I got to spend with her was a spectacle of itself. She was the muse I once believed I would never find. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes. Come here.” She approached me slowly too, soft hands I knew too well running over her own body and making me desperate to be the one that was touching her. “I want to worship your body the way that you deserve it, after waiting for me for so long.”

I saw her eyes soften at that, her hands cradling my face when she was close enough to hop on my lap. “I’d wait even longer if I had to.” It made me happier than anything else, knowing that she was as happy with me as I was with her.

So I pulled her to meet my lips again, groaning as I got my taste of her - but it was enough. It would never be enough, especially now that I knew I was hers and hers only. And then she inadvertently started grinding against me and it almost had me falling back against the bed. “God, you’re hot,” I moaned as I watched from under my eyelashes the way that she moved for me and only me.

“I love when you talk dirty.” Her giggles were the sweetest sound I ever heard, and I loved to be the cause for them. But my need for her was so pressing, that I ended up cutting them short by pulling her for another kiss, while adjusting her until she was sitting on one of my thighs.

“That’s nothing, darling. You know just how dirty I can be, and you still haven’t seen everything I got up my sleeve. Come on, move those hips for me,” I directed, helping her ride my thigh by the grip I held on her ass.

“You know what I want to do to you?” I asked, my voice dropping a tone as I whispered in her ear, needing to see her cum for me for the first night that night. “I want to lick all over your skin without the fear of being interrupted,” I started, reminiscing about just how many things I wanted to experience with her now that we were officially together. “Do you know how great it will be now that what we’re doing isn’t improper?”

Y/N almost laughed, but it came out as a gasp as I flexed the muscles underneath her, making my thigh a bit harder for her to rub her sweet cunt against. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’ll definitely keep doing some pretty improper stuff…” I forced her to quicken her movements until she was cumming before my eyes, sweet, sweet whimpers falling from her lips as she struggled to catch her breath. “... I just won’t have to feel guilty about them anymore.”

As I turned us over to lay her body on the mattress, our lips dancing together once more, the realization that this was my life now making my head feel light with all the happiness inside of me. This was my bed, this was my woman and it was only just beginning.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Well, that’s a relief,” I teased, taking advantage of the little break that he had given my lips as he slowly but surely laid kissed around every inch of my chest. “For a second there, I thought you wouldn’t want to do dirty things to me anymore.”

That earned me a laugh, muffled by the way his lips were pressed against my neck and making me laugh by reflex, since his beard kept tickling me. “Oh, believe me, pretty girl… There’s a lot of dirty stuff I want to do to you. And I won’t lie, some of them are probably still going to happen in my office.”

I tried to swallow back a whimper that made its way to my lips as Andy licked a stripe up my neck, only stopping to nibble on my jaw before admitting to his plans. “After all, I really can’t control myself when you wear those tight skirts to work. But I don’t think they can really be blamed.”

Pink lips wrapped around my nipple and a gasp did escape me, my hands flying to hold Andy’s locks to keep him attached to my chest, but he had other ideas. “I just can’t seem to be able to be near you without desperately wanting you,” he finished, eyes connected to mine and mouth glistening with the saliva he had spread over my breasts. “You’re just too much of a temptation.”

Now, of course, after such a declaration, what can a girl do? I didn’t seem to find the words to vocalize just how I felt about him too, too busy trying to control my heart and clutching his shoulders while he sucked lovebites all over my exposed body. We didn’t really have to worry about them now, even if they would seem terribly unprofessional for some of the senior partners.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he urged, and I swallowed dryly before finally voicing, “I want your cock in my mouth, daddy. I want to make you feel good.” Andy audibly groaned at my request, quickly rolling off of me and discarding his pants while I assumed a familiar and very comfortable position between his legs.

My mouth watered at the sight of his already fully hardened member, and I reached out to replace his hand that was slowly jerking it off with mine, leaning down to give the head a small kitten lick just like I knew he liked to be teased.

“Fuck, darling,” he moaned, and I could feel myself growing wetter at the pure power that I felt at having this man so fucking needy for me. When I slowly started to suck on the head of his cock, making my way further down inch by inch, the signs of impatience that became evident in his body only made my desire grow.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he half begged, half ordered, leg twisting behind me in an effort to control himself. “Take it all on your own, like you always do. Make me proud.” Shit, he knew just what to say to have me quickly gagging on his cock out of my own free will.

I didn’t even think twice before going down on him until my lips met his navel. If anything, the strangled moan he tried to stop, the way his hips instinctively raised up and blocked the air from my lungs, making my eyes water, only served as incentives for me to keep going, up and down, up and down, licking and swirling and sucking until my jaw started to hurt and still, I didn’t want to stop.

Andy’s P.O.V.

It was always a battle between allowing myself to spill in her delicious mouth or perfect pussy, but today, I had other plans - and they involved me having to exercise incredible restraint as I pulled her away from my member by her hair, chuckling at the whine she let out.

“Lay down,” I ordered nodding towards the bed, and she quickly did so, crawling on her hands and knees towards the center of the mattress, but just before she could reach it, I pulled her by her ankle and turned her around myself.

“Can’t wait to fill you, sweetheart.” I was impatient, that much was obvious, but I don’t think she minded by the way her hips thrusted back to meet my fingers as I fucked her open with them, using my thumb to rub her throbbing little clit. “Do you want that?”

She nodded, managing to hold eye contact but not capable of saying anything, her bottom lip held tightly by her teeth as she struggled to swallow the whines I begged to hear. “Beg me for it,” I ordered, picking up the pace and curling my digits until I was able to hit her sweet spot every time I thrusted into her tight channel. “I want to know how badly you want me, I want to see if it even *comes close to my own desire for you.”

A gasp was still all I received as a response, and I had to contain my smile as I slowed down my movements, making them sweeter but deeper. I knew what was holding her back, and it wasn’t the weakness of her desire when contrasted to mine. “It’s alright, darling. You can scream, you can cry out my name as loud as you want. We don’t have to be quiet anymore.”

When her eyes met mine again, I could see that she understood, but it was still hard for her to fully let go. So I picked up the pace of my fingers, leaning over her to suck a bruise on her collarbones before whispering in her ear, “C’mon, pretty girl. I’ve always loved to see you squirming, trying to keep those beautiful sounds in, but right now, I’m dying to hear you moan.”

Her orgasm was what finally made her lose control, cumming while screaming my name, making me grin from ear to ear and keep the pace of my digits until her hand covered my wrist, a silent plea for me to let her calm down. I allowed her that, pulling away from her with a brief kiss on the forehead before turning my attention to myself, curling my fist around my cock that twitched with only that slight stimulation, probably because of the debauched scene before me.

It didn’t take long for her small hand to cover mine, forcing myself to jerk the throbbing member as a sign that she was ready for more, now. And so I pulled her even closer, forcing her legs to open wider before I rubbed the head of my cock between her lower lips, gathering some of the moisture there.

“You ready?” Pushing into her for the first time was always incredible. Often, it’d take me back to that long night we’d spent trying to work on a difficult case, when it all became too much for both of us to handle and I gave into temptation, bending her over my desk before burying myself inside of her.

The way she gasped so prettily at the feeling of my cock stretching her open was still the same, and it mirrored the way I groaned at how her tight walls squeezed me as I tried to bottom out inside of her. “So fucking tight,” I noted, arms resting on each side of her face as I waited for us both to grow used to the feeling of being connected again.

I kissed her once more before starting to move, losing myself in the taste of her while she messed up my hair, running her fingers through it to hold onto the locks when I did start to fuck her against the mattress. The feeling of her hands traveling further south, until suddenly I felt her nails running down my back, had me jerking abruptly in surprise, the realization that now she could leave marks on my body only leaving me more desperate for her, to make her mine once and for all.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck.” The way he gasped against my mouth was so pretty, I wanted to keep hearing it for the rest of my life. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. This is where you’ll spend the rest of your life, right here, getting filled by my cock over and over again.”

It didn’t seem like a bad future to have, especially when he squeezed my hips so tight, trying to control himself so this wouldn’t end so soon. “Fuck, no one can make me feel as good as you do, darling. No one.”

My body felt warm, like a fire had been lit inside, and the only thing that made it simultaneously more controlled and brighter was kissing him, feeling him connected to me, from his forehead to his toes.

I loved this man. God, I loved him, and it felt so good to be able to feel this way, without having any guilt attached to this wonderful feeling. Knowing that he was now mine and only mine, that I could give my whole heart to him without any fear, because he’d given me his.

It felt different this time, regardless of the dozens of times I’d had him inside of me. It was like we were both stripped to our very soul, finally getting to introduce them to each other, and there was a connection, a certain recognition that I just couldn’t put into words - especially not when he was fucking me this good. We just worked. It’s like despite how it all began, we were meant to be.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” And it was that declaration of love that had me clenching around him, reaching the high of desire that only he could show me. It didn’t surprise me that as soon as my orgasm began, he started to lose the rhythm of his thrusts, until he was groaning, “I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum inside of you, just like I promised, pretty girl.”

The reminder seemed to awaken every single nerve end on my body, and I gasped as I felt another orgasm building as his movements grew more frantic. “Don’t you want it? Don’t you want my cum? Say it, sweetheart. Say you want my cum.”

The reality of the situation hit me then, serving as an added stimulation to my already overworked body. He really wanted this. We were really doing this. “Yes, of course I want it. I want your cum, daddy.”

That was it for him. I watched as Andy threw his head back, eyes closed in bliss while his biceps bulged in an effort to keep him from falling on top of me. “Yessss… Make me a dad, Y/N,” he roared, suddenly pushing himself away from me to hold my legs open even wider, fingertips buried on the flesh of my thighs.

I felt his release paint my insides, and our eyes connected just then, acknowledging the weight of the moment between us. His hand reached out to stroke my chin before he carefully rolled us over so I could rest on his chest without him leaving me.

“I can’t believe we get to stay here for as long as we want,” he suddenly spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us. “No more excuses, no more hiding. Just you and me, and this big and comfortable bed.”

“I can’t believe I get to fall asleep next to you…” I whispered, lightly tracing over his jawline until he turned to meet my eyes, hand holding my wrist tightly to catch my attention - as if it wasn’t already on him.

“I can’t believe you think you’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” And with that fortunate prediction into my future, I knew it would be full of giggles and satisfaction, just as long as I got to have Andy by my side.

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atinybitofau · 5 years ago

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S A N ↱ arranged marriage au

WHEN HE’S TOO (drunk) MUCH

a/n: may contain alcoholism past/present

• you didn’t understand why San neglected you.

• you fell in love with him.

• just like any girl would.

• cause who wouldn’t?

• he was strong.

• persistent.

• ambitious.

• the epitome of perfect.

• so was it because you didn’t meet his standards for a woman?

• that he’s too much for you.

• that you’re nothing more than just a business contract.

• “You’ve been in the clouds all day, Mrs. Choi.”

• “Y/n.” you mumble, pen signing your signature in your hand. “Please.. address me as so.”

• as a descendant of a successful line of entrepreneurs.

• it’s no surprise you owned 50+ coffee shops in the country and some international.

• known to be a silent woman.

• hiding in the shadows of your predecessors.

• and notoriously known as Choi San’s wife.

• — a man of many wonders and an A class entrepreneur of his own.

• you’re a woman everyone wanted to be.

• a woman everyone wanted too.

• “Will you be joining Mr. Park to Japan this weekend? You still haven’t confirmed if you’d be joining him. On his retreat.”

• you unknowingly glance at the picture frame of you and your arranged husband.

• wanting leisure from your deprived love life so bad.

• though the idea of spending time with another man sounded sinless.

• considering the circumstances...

• “It’s your anniversary with Mr. Choi this Saturday, is it not?”

• you turn the frame face front on your table, smiling softly at your assistant. “I’m sure he wouldn’t remember anyway.”

• now you’re at home packing.

• not surprised that San hasn’t came home yet.

• in the two— no three years that you two have been married,

• it seems he sometimes forgets this was his home.

• “Yes. That sounds splendid. Of course, I will be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. And to you too, Mr. Kang.”

• you hear him on the phone when he comes home.

• surprised that he actually did for the first time in a week.

• you don’t say anything when he enters your shared room.

• him not minding at all that you were packing.

• “Business trip?” he asks you seeming uninterested.

• and it does hurt.

• that your own husband never seemed interested in you.

• that though you’ve fallen in love with him despite the arrangement,

• he’s never fallen in love with you.

• “Um..” you choke on your breath. “More or less.”

• he hums in response while removing his tie. “I’ll be flying to Jeju sunday morning to meet with Yeosang. So I’ll be home all of saturday. That okay?”

• you don’t see why he’s asking for confirmation.

• he’d do it anyway without one.

• “O-okay.”

• he watches you from the corner of his eyes.

• wondering why you’ve never felt detested by the relationship in spite of your shyness.

• for someone like him,

• he thinks you two are an odd couple.

• that you two would have never been one if not for the marriage contract.

• but three years has taught him better

• “And where will you be going?”

• you sniffle while zipping you’re bags, letting loose your messily tied up hair. “Japan. I’ll be meeting with a... an investor.”

• it’s not entirely a lie.

• just..

• you won’t be meeting the investor in terms of business.

• “For how long will this be for?”

• you mentally think, why was he getting curious?

• he’s never once cared.

• if it doesn’t matter to him, he shouldn’t even ask.

• “The weekend. If things go well, I should be home by Sunday.”

• he doesn’t know why.

• why it hurt him that you forgot.

• that he didn’t intend to do much this Saturday but stay home and eat dinner with you.

• maybe talk about work and relieve some stress.

• but he’d think by now you’d appreciate the anniversary.

• that he’d mean just as much as you do to him.

• “Sunday?”

• you don’t notice the hidden annoyance.

• thinking, talking to him was like talking to a wall.

• “Seonghwa doesn’t want to stay for less than a day. And well, since my schedule seems free and no appointments have been made, I made some time for him.”

• you speak to your husband like a business woman.

• how fucking senile, right?

• how honorable you two are.

• how much pride you think San has over you.

• just two people in a marriage contract.

• nothing less and nothing more.

• but San’s overwrought though.

• the hints of displeasure from you sensible in his tone.

• “Seonghwa? Park Seonghwa?”

• his mind blurs.

• crazed in a frenzy.

• at the sound of another man in place of him.

• “He’s invited me to his Japan retreat.”

• you look at San for the first time in a long time.

• and you think there was something different about him.

• his hair looked the same.

• his god like features were still in tact.

• was it his lips?

• his eyebrows?

• oh...

• OH.

• “You are aware of our own affairs this Saturday, correct?”

• you think he’s crazy.

• that he can’t pin you down.

• for not even caring for the past two— no three years.

• he had no right to ask you if you were aware.

• especially on a day he’s never celebrated with you before.

• “San, I think you’re the one unaware of our affairs this Saturday. Seeming as though you tend to forget for every year that’s passed, don’t you think you’re being too much?”

• his jaw clenches.

• eyes blinking,

• getting dizzy and filled with rage.

• — jealousy and betrayal.

• how could you think of another man?

• when he was always right in front of you!

• “I-I never forget!”

• you’re flabbergasted.

• completely disbelieved.

• “You never forget? The first, spending it with another woman. And the second with your friends in Bali? You never forget?”

• his jaw clenches and he’s in denial.

• in denial that he neglected you.

• he doesn’t feel like he did.

• “I called you. The day of and—“

• the way your lips frown makes him uneasy.

• unsettled that he’s made you so unhappy.

• he didn’t even realize...

• that he was too much.

• and not enough at the same time.

• “Then I don’t think me calling you would be much of a difference.”

• you blink away refraining from tears.

• starting to believe this arrangement meant more to him than you inititially thought.

• that fact actually hurting you more than when you thought he didn’t care.

• cause now that you know he did,

• why did he neglect you all these years?

• “I don’t know, Seonghwa... do you think I should go home?”

• Japan was fun.

• Seonghwa making your day nice and all.

• but you hated knowing San might be home.

• alone with his stresses.

• his questionable decisions that often made him resort to the unnecessaries.

• only knowing that as his wife.

• when as his wife, regardless of what happens,

• it’s your duty to cherish him as your husband.

• “You love him even though you think he doesn’t love you?”

• you sadly smile, lips buried in a scarf San gave you last christmas.

• “He might be a lousy husband. But he’s still mine.”

• Seonghwa found you admirable.

• never understood why San didn’t.

• “San may as well be the luckiest man on the planet. The dumbest one too.”

• you miss San.

• even though he was rarely there.

• you appreciated the things he gave you.

• like being your husband even though he sucks at it.

• “It’s still pretty early in SK. You might be able to make it before midnight if you leave for the airport now.”

• you look at Seonghwa with dreamy eyes.

• thinking if you hadn’t been so strung on San falling in love with you,

• you would’ve dared him to.

• “Go. And make sure he makes up for being the lousy husband he’s been.” Seonghwa kisses you on the forehead before taking your hand. “As successful as he is, adapting to loving you can’t be too difficult. Not something he isn’t capable of, don’t you agree?”

• you’re racing against time.

• three minutes away from your penthouse.

• ten minutes away from Sunday.

• your mind’s made up.

• guilty for being ungrateful.

• timid about being his wife.

• San insisted he stopped smoking months ago.

• but the copious amount of musk in the apartment was uncanny.

• you see empty bottles of liquor stranded on the floor.

• music at full volume.

• his figure staring out the balcony quiet and lonely.

• it’s not all his fault.

• because you sometimes forget,

• San used to come home to you.

• “Cheers to your wedding anniversary, San.” you hear him sigh. lit cigarette falling at his feet. “To the one failure you couldn’t afford.”

• you smile in small font.

• suddenly wrapping your scarf around his waist, pulling him into you.

• “Y-y/n?”

• he was drunk, you mentally note.

• whipping him around.

• still dreamy eyed regardless.

• “What are you.. I thought you’d still be in Japan?”

• “And I thought you’d be out with friends.” you mumble hoping he’d react sober. “Didn’t we agree on no smoking in the house?”

• “Stopped.” he answers breathless, weirdly looking sober while staring down at you. “I stopped, remember? Started today because.. because I didn’t have you.”

• “S-san you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

• you think his hands are filthy.

• from doing the things he used to do before meeting you.

• but you let him hold you.

• his trembling disappearing when he does.

• you curl against his palm and softly smile.

• “I haven’t.. I haven’t been good to you, have I?”

• you place your fingers over his and hum. “Well I can’t blame you for doing what you’re only capable of.”

• “I am capable! I am capable of loving you. I am..”

• you want to giggle.

• because you used to hate drunk San.

• when he’d come home gurgling.

• babbling like a baby.

• “You’re drunk, San.”

• “Y-you think so?”

• you wonder how drunk San really is.

• drunk words speaking sober thoughts, you know.

• but was he hammered enough to kiss you?

• “San, do you want to kiss me?”

• your husband pouts.

• eyes saying yes.

• waiting for you to do it.

• “Well?”

• “I-is it okay?”

• “San, I’m your wife. You don’t need my permission, dummy.”

• he’s not drunk.

• not drunk enough.

• wanted to kiss you sober.

• wants to kiss you now.

• “I don’t want.. don’t you to hate me, y/n. Don’t want you to think I’m too much.”

• so you lean up and press a kiss onto his potted lips.

• his eyes processing slow.

• “Do you think I’m too much?”

• you chuckle, nodding softly. “Yes San. I do think you’re too much.”

• “B-but you still love me, right? When I’m not there. And you like being my wife?”

• of course you do.

• I mean, through thick, it might have been difficult to.

• but you still do.

• “I didn’t sign the contract for just business, San. I wanted to love you, you know? Wanted you to love me.”

• he doesn’t need to think twice,

• about why people fall in love with you.

• about why he’s fallen in love with you.

• “Can we start over? As husband and wife. T-tomorrow when I’m sober. Can you come with me to Jeju?”

• you don’t need to think twice either.

• your schedule’s usually free.

• but you agree because it’s San who asks you.

• it’s San who wants you to make the time.

• “Let’s start tonight. By you taking a shower and sleeping beside me? You think you can do that for me, San?”

• his eyes say yes.

• and so does his lips.

• kissing you through his intoxication.

• knowing he’s capable of loving you.

• drunk or sober.

• “For the record, I like being your husband too.”

@atinybitofau

#san #choi san #ateez san #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #ateez preferences #ateez au #ateez reactions #san scenarios #san imagines #san oneshot #san reactions #arranged marriage au #ateez

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seostudios · 4 years ago

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happy without me: all about luv - h.rj

ALL ABOUT LUV ‣ HAPPY WITHOUT ME

just face it, she’s happy without you. but i don’t believe it, is she really?

paring: huang renjun x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2.5k

info: exes to lovers!au, non-idol!au, college!au, cousin!jaemin

warnings: sensitive themes, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, toxic relationship, mention of rape and sexual assault, sexual assault, explicit/vulgar language

tag list: @jenotation @luvlyjaemin @woofie-nctzen-fanarts-320 @tzuqui @sunnyrenjunnie @nino7011 @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @minhehe @chrspychan @jimelonji @mykokorobeats4u @aminihhj @jeonjungkat @wishfulldreamss @ilymarkchan @ja3hy4n @beautifulbakerycookiegiant @jisungiepwark52 @sharamanne @commentgirl @littlefluu @chicksung @lixseu @jenosgirlllll

a/n: i’m sorry this is so short i did renjun dirty :( i got writers block writing it but it’s ok! ill do better on the next one which is chenle or jeno (prolly jeno) i gotta chekc but yay finally part 2 to all about luv

APRIL IN JEJU

It's been 7 months since you've parted ways with your first love. You two were the supposed high school sweethearts of your year so it confused most of the other students when they found out. Renjun and you were meant for one another but the fact he decided on attending SKKU since had received a scholarship for his outstanding academic records, he couldn't turn down the offer and was determined on enrolling however you were attending Cheju Halla University which was all the way in Jeju City. That was a 55-minute plane ride away from Renjun! Avoiding the future relationship problems to come from long-distance you two would most likely face, the breakup was mutual and you two parted ways at the airport indulging in a rather pitiful hug.

Here you were, walking through the Department of Equine Science, trailing behind your friends Soomin and Mina. It was the first time you decided to skip class and it was thrilling in your opinion, "Come on, they're waiting!" Soomin whisper-yelled. They?

You make sure to ask her who 'they' were since you and Mina weren't standing dumbfounded and possibly in trouble. "The volleyball team dummy," Soomin says skipping to past the classrooms into Gym A. It brought you back to the old times, visiting Renjun during Soccer practice, making sure he's well-fed and not overworked. Quickly snapping out of it you join the girls on the bleachers to cheer on the boys. Although you are able to tell people you've moved on from your first love, you've spent restless nights looking back at your messages, pictures just reminiscing the past.

The butterflies he's caused you still flutter every now and then hoping their commotion was heard and you've finally made the big move back to Seoul but sadly you haven't gotten up and gone yet.

Tonight you were preparing for a mini-quiz, it so happened that Mina shared the class with you. Scheduling a sleepover at Soomin's place here you all are sitting in her living room stuffing your faces with whatever salty and sweet treats her mom had bought. "Oh. My. God." Mina tells you after reading your DM request on Instagram, "What?" you ask confused over what she thought was so extraordinary. She motions Soomin to look at your earning a surprised what the fuck from the girl. "Min-fucking-Ho wants to DM you... He's like one of the hottest guys in our division and has never been seen with a girl so wanting to text you definitely a what the fuck moment. You shake your head before opening the DM request..."He's asking me out for dinner?" You say which Soomin demands you to accept the offer before he moves on. "You've gotta move on from Renjun you know? He won't come by swooping you by the legs asking you for his hand in marriage. He's all the way in Seoul Y/n, I'm pretty sure he's moved on by now with someone else it's time you do too. Now hand e your phone so I can tell him you want to go on that date." Mina tells you after you attempt to reject Minho. She gave you the truth even if it hurt (a lot), you sigh in defeat handing over your phone.

"Can't believe you're going on a date with Minho," Soomin says watching Mina type away. "I know right, lucky girl" Mina replies as you nod.

APRIL IN SEOUL

Meanwhile, at SKKU Renjun's majoring in Arts & humanities. Languages, Literature & Linguistics which has been taking up most of his time keeping his mind off his recent split. He was devastated the first week but had to obviously push it aside if he wanted extraordinary marks just like in high school, even if he wanted his thoughts to be occupied with your figure in his head he simply couldn't know his classes were paying attention to him along with the other honor students that attended on a scholarship.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Jeno, Renjun's only friend at Sungkyunkwan asked. He's got to know Renjun for who he was today but he's never really opened up about his life before University. Jeno noticed Renjun staring at your recent Instagram post for a little too long to not think you were at least flirting in direct messages. "No," He said quick and panicky before shoving his phone back into his pocket, after relaxing he turns to Jeno. "She's my ex, we broke up 7 months ago." Jeno's mouth goes agape momentarily in realization, "Why? If you don't mind me asking..." He asked the smaller boy beside him. "She went to Jeju for University when SKKU was just a 20-minute train ride from our neighborhood," Renjun replied with a scoff recollecting the memory of the day you told him you got accepted into Cheju Halla. Jeno nods understandingly deciding to continue studying instead of riling him up.

JULY IN JEJU

A full three months have passed and you were still in the first place you were in back in April, heartbroken. Although a lot of things have drastically changed since April it had only made you feel worse about yourself. For starters, you've been 'dating' Minho since April even if you realized on the first date he had only wanted you to fulfil his sexual desires. He's strung his act long enough and you've tried breaking up with the boy for a month now but he won't let you, he's always threatening you "I'll tell the school what type of whore you are." or something about inflicting pain on someone close to you like Soomin or Mina, which is why you've kept quiet for about the last three weeks.

You were in pulled harshly by the arm by Minho as he pulled you into the supply closet of the Gymnasium, “Minho, I don’t want you to touch me there,” You politely ask the boy who’s currently taking advantage of his supposed spouse. “I don’t even want to date you! Why do you keep acting like this- Let go!” You whisper-yell to Minho who’s trailing his hands up and in between your thighs. "Shut up," He simply tells you before snaking his hand to your mouth shutting you up as you let out a choked cry.

JULY IN SEOUL

"She looks so happy with that Minho, right?” Renjun asked Jeno, scrolling through your tagged post. “I mean from what we know yeah,” He tells him. Renjun sighs, he knew he would genuinely be happy for you if you moved on but it had seemed rather quick. "It's almost been a year, she's moved on. Why don't you?" Jeno asked innocently. Renjun had a gut feeling of some sort; telling him not to move on and instead of ignoring it like you (which brought you nowhere since you're still deeply in love with him) did he's just kept a close eye on you. Shaking his head no he tells Jeno, "Something isn't right about.." He lifts the phone to the photo of you and Minho, Mina had tagged you in, "That."

DECEMBER IN JEJU

"I promise I'll text you, I just need to get off this freaking island for winter break at least." You tell Mina and Soomin on Face-time, "Okay we will miss you! How did Minho take this? It's your first Christmas together and you leave?" She asked worriedly. You mumble a fuck before looking at the camera. "I didn't tell him," You say earning gasps from the two. "He's your boyfriend though.." Soomin said; "Who doesn't treat me like a fucking human being." Your words were strong, rippling a wave of awkwardness, "I'm fine by the way I’m staying with my cousin Jaemin, but if I don't come back it’s cause he spoilt me into staying."

DECEMBER IN SEOUL

"Merry Almost Christmas!" Renjun screeches before entering his shared apart with his new friend group, Jeno had introduced Renjun to his best pal, Jaemin and Renjun had taken in a very lonely Haechan later introducing him to the two. Today they were all celebrating their first Christmas together with a classic holiday film and cupcakes every day until Christmas.

"Guys we have a guest today!" Jaemin sings opening the door widely to show a shorter girl beside the boy with a suitcase in hand.

"What are you doing here?" Renjun and you said simultaneously as you locked eye contact. "I'm visiting Jaemin, my cousin." You tell him hands moving into the air to point towards the boy, "I am Jaemin's roommate." He responded before getting up from the couch brushing off the crumbs off his lap before walking towards the door to stand in front of you. He hadn't grown any taller still rocking his tiny 5'7 figure, but tall enough to tower over you, who hadn't grown since freshman year.

"She's here." Jeno tells Renjun who's head is under the pillow, "She's here." Jeno repeats, "She's here, She's here," Renjun whispered to himself taking it all in. He always wished for you to get off the fucking island go back into his arms, transferring to SKKU, knowing you had the skill to land a spot without hesitation, but finally seeing you after 10 months of no contact was frightening to him. Why did you seem so brittle? You looked pained, it wasn't his job to care about you anymore, but he couldn't help himself. He loved you more than himself and there's a (humongous) chunk of him that still did. Renjun gets up and sits crisscrossed on the single bed across from Jeno's bed where he was idling on his phone laying down "She's here but she's not here." He said which caught Jeno's attention, his face wrinkling in confusion. "She's not okay, something's wrong. I know it," He finishes getting up to walk out to you- who's catching up with Jaemin in the kitchen while preparing for dinner, stopping immediately as a rush of nerves came over him telling him to stop.

"Hope you boys like Hotteok!" You said facing Jeno and Haechan who were smiling in awe of your cooking skills, "I know Injun and Jaems like it so I made it tonight." You cheerfully smile towards the other two boys. “Glad to see you remembered,” It took a lot for Renjun to even say a sentence to you without having a gaze on you for a little too long afterwards.

It was his chance, he walked out of the bedroom the moment he saw you walk by his door towards the guest room. "Can I come in?" He asked. "Of course Injun," You couldn't believe yourself, being so calm and comfortable with all the tension. Had it really been ten months? He thought to himself as he sat beside you on the bed. "So," He rubbed his thighs nervously "How've you been?" Horrible. You stare down at the carpet admiring it while you figure a way to lie to the boy who knew you better than you knew yourself. "Fine, I've been..." You sigh avoiding eye contact, "Fine." He looks at you concerned, "You can't lie to me Y/n." Grabbing your hand caressing it for a second knowing it relaxed you a bit in tough scenarios. Suddenly your phone began to ring, grabbing to read the caller id. "Oh, should I go?" Renjun asked after reading the contact name 'Minho' "No!" You shouted quickly grabbed his wrist pulling him back down before he walked out. Declining the call you spoke, "I'd talk to you over anyone any day." Damn, when did I get so smooth You mentally note that smirking to yourself slightly watching as Renjun bursted into a frenzy of laughter, "Smooth," He comments.

"So, was that Minho guy...your boyfriend?" He asked in which you replied with a strong No. "Well," You started "A boyfriend is someone who listens to me someone who values my opinions and beliefs. Someone who is truly interested in what you enjoy doing, or what you like most in life and interested in who I am as a person." You pause to see him grab you hand intertwining your hand, quickly signalling you to continue. "Someone who makes me laugh, or trusts me. But more importantly, disrespect me and force me into," Tears collected in your eyes threatening to fall, "Things." Renjun knows what to do to comfort you quickly pulling you into his embrace, melting when you wrap around him, head in the crook of his neck sobbing quietly. "He made me do things Renjun-ah. Horrible things. I hate him so much, I can't break up with him. Figured running away would've been a better option." He strokes your hair telling you it's okay and to relax. He couldn't help but smile though; he was right. He knew, he knew something was off and made it his number one priority to find out what it was, who would've known you would open up and make your first actual conversation with your ex- whom you dated for a nearly all of senior year about the toxic relationship you found yourself in after him.

JANUARY IN SEOUL

"I got to leave tomorrow." You told Renjun, whom you rekindled an old flame with over your stay. C

"Do you think about me sometimes? 'Cause I think about you sometimes" You asked Renjun looking at him from the mirror, as he watched you do your hair for an outing with your cousin. After that night in your bedroom, you decided on hanging out more and became close friends once more. But the butterflies in your stomach didn't leave, instead, they emitted flying more enthusiastically near him, with him. "I don't think about you sometimes 'Cause I think about you all the time," He said, which made you look down to the floor before turning around to face him. "It made me so jealous knowing you were so far away with that disgusting bastard happy without me" He grabs your hand; which you intertwine your fingers with happily a smile dancing upon your lips watching him reciprocate it.

"Stay." He tells you. You cuddle into his embrace as he caressed the top of your head. The two of your legs entangled under the sheets having one of your midnight talks. "You know I can't," You start quickly zipping your mouth not wanting to go any further, "Students who have outstanding academic records, or who have financial difficulties, who have submitted a complete scholarship application," Renjun said, which just made your jaw drop. Did he do his research? "You can still enroll for the second semester which starts in two weeks. Have your friends send your belongings." He finished watching as you lifted yourself up resting your head in your palm. "Really?" You asked, breath taken away to say more. Could you really live here in Seoul? With Renjun? "Yes, I can kick Jeno into the guest room while we can have this room all to ourselves." He kissed the top of your hand watching the cheeky smile erupt from you with giggles. "We can be together." You said- asked to yourself, "We can be together" Renjun tells you before pulling you back.

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rosethornewrites · 4 years ago

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Fic: I look up and see the bright moon

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén

Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Song Lan | Song Zichen, Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing, Granny Wen, Wen Qing

Additional Tags: Found Family, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Bunnies, Adoption, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, References to Depression, Anxiety, Blind Character, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Summary: The Wei family has struggled, but that is in the past, and it is time to welcome a new family member.

Notes: Written for @sweetlittlevampire as part of the WangXian Lunar New Year Gift Exchange. This is also partly inspired by @angstymdzsthoughts, which has been chattering about a corporate espionage AU for a few weeks now. In the fic's base-time, that's occurred largely in the past and is background that led to the acquisition of their found family. The title is from the Li Bai poem, "Thoughts on a Silent Night." Li Bai was exiled and wrote poetry reminiscing about family and friends from whom he was separated.

AO3 link

-----------

When A-Yuan, with the kind of pleading adorable face only a five year old could muster, asked if they could adopt a pet bunny, and Wei Ying, knowing rabbits were his husband’s favorite animal, watched him hide his yearning to talk to their son about responsibility and finances like he was a little adult—and he suspected A-Zhan had gotten this very same talk as a child—he decided they needed to find a way to make it happen.

“We should adopt one,” he said, interrupting them.

Both of them turned to look at him, their expressions tinged with hope. A-Zhan’s made Wei Ying a little sad—they had never discussed pets, and perhaps he felt he couldn’t ask.

“A-Yuan is smart, and caring for a pet would help him develop a sense of responsibility,” Wei Ying argued. “We’ll need to research how much they cost and what they need and all that, but we’re doing well financially.”

There was a soft look on his husband’s face at the thought of having a rabbit. Anything that made A-Zhan look that soft belonged in their lives.

“It’d be a nice addition to the family. I’ve always wanted a pet, too.”

The last bit, he could see, convinced A-Zhan. Sometimes his husband would go without to avoid seeming selfish—sometimes didn’t even realize he wanted it—but if Wei Ying wanted something, he would insist he have it.

Wei Ying had found saying he wanted something A-Zhan did allowed his husband to indulge in what he had spent far too long denying himself.

“We will do research,” A-Zhan agreed.

“So, bunny?” A-Yuan asked.

“Bunny,” Wei Ying said.

A-Zhan nodded.

“After research.”

A-Yuan cheered, then insisted they all hop around the living room like bunnies.

He was somehow even more excited when A-Zhan told him they would learn all about bunnies through research. The kid was absolutely their son.

If there was one thing Wei Ying was good at, it was research—perhaps only second to his husband, who was almost obsessive about research. It made them a good team, and had enabled them to survive the last few years without having to dip too much into A-Zhan’s inheritance. Nothing could stand against them when they both researched how to solve a problem, but that hadn’t made the problems they’d faced over the last five years easy to deal with.

They tried not to obsess too much over the negatives: the corporate espionage accusation and Wei Ying’s subsequent blacklisting by the industry and disowning by the Jiangs. The threat of legal action that could have seen him in prison for a decade, if not more. Lan Qiren’s pressure on his nephew to break up with him, ending in an ultimatum.

It hadn’t mattered that he didn’t do it—the information-siphoning code may have originated from his workstation, but it had been done on a dummy user profile. Literally anyone could have done it, could have easily jimmied the lock to his office. He’d been set up. But that truth hadn’t mattered to the Lan corporate board or to Madam Yu.

Lan Qiren and Madam Yu had always hated him, anyway.

Uncle Jiang had never returned his calls or texts. That hurt far more.

Ugly accusations followed that he’d been dating A-Zhan just to rise in the company or gain corporate secrets—never mind he decided to work for Gusu Lan Tech right out of college to avoid the idea of nepotism working for Compu-Jiang would bring, that A-Zhan and he kept their work out of their relationship. Then rumors he had to be spying for Compu-Jiang, which had led to his disowning. Wei Ying ultimately changed his phone number and shut down all social media to avoid the journalists plaguing him and awful messages from people he had thought were his peers.

But there were positives. A-Zhan had believed him even if no one else did, and when the pressure had become an ultimatum, he had responded in the opposite of the way his uncle had intended: he’d liquidated his shares in the company, packed anything he couldn’t live without from the family home, and left Gusu Lan Tech with a politely-worded but clear resignation letter.

He had shown up while Wei Ying was packing in a panic to downsize his apartment (or something that would save money now that he no longer had a career, like maybe living in his car) and proposed to him.

Wei Ying hadn’t expected that, had expected to be dumped when he’d opened the door to find him on his doorstep, just one more awful thing to cap off a terrible week. He’d wound up crying for an entirely different reason, curled in A-Zhan’s arms murmuring “yes” over and over again between sobs.

Only Wei Ying’s adopted sister had attended their small wedding out of both of their families, and though she expressed regrets that Jiang Cheng couldn’t make it, the text messages he’d received made it clear his adopted brother would need time, if he ever came around at all. He hadn’t so far.

A-Zhan had changed his legal surname to Wei, which made it necessary for Wei Ying to change how he addressed his husband. Ultimately they decided to use 阿 in front of each other’s names. The first time A-Zhan called him A-Ying, he’d felt like his brain shut down for a bit, it felt so intimate—to be fair, it had been in the midst of some rather passionate celebration of their marriage.

The statement A-Zhan’s actions made in the industry had echoed far and wide, not always in a good way. He became a figure too controversial to touch, particularly for any company that wished to have good relations with Gusu Lan Tech or Compu-Jiang. Work options dried up for him, too. He also closed his social media accounts after dealing with abuse through them.

Their “honeymoon” involved finding a cheap studio apartment and applying to minimum wage jobs.

Gusu Lan Tech had decided not to pursue criminal charges. Or rather, Lan Xichen had, as chairman of the board, refused to pursue them, overriding the board’s bloodlust. He had contacted A-Zhan to congratulate him on the marriage, and stated it was a wedding gift to them. He had not reached out or responded to messages from his brother since, and A-Zhan had eventually stopped texting or calling him.

The next couple years had taught them to live frugally in a trial-by-fire sort of way, both of them struggling to find work, both of them battling depression over the situation that had destroyed their careers. Wei Ying’s feelings of guilt had exacerbated his, his sense things would be better for his husband if he’d let him go—that perhaps he could still let him go and get back what he lost. Miscommunication had nearly destroyed them both, but they had persevered and grown stronger together.

To survive, they’d left the San Francisco area, living expenses too high and with no family ties to keep them anymore. They’d worked jobs as baristas, stocking shelves at grocery stores, substitute teaching, waiting tables—so far from the financial career A-Zhan had gotten his degree to help with the family business, from the computer science that had been Wei Ying’s passion. Anything that put food on the table and paid rent, that kept them from dipping into A-Zhan’s inheritance or the proceeds of his stock sale.

They’d had to dip in a couple of times for emergencies, like when Wei Ying broke his wrist badly enough to require surgery. But as a matter of principle they tried not to.

Then Wen Qing had reached out, seemingly out of the blue. It had been years since either of them had seen her—not since college. Suddenly they were helping Wen Ning with independent app development in his Dafan Applications start-up, and living and working in an apartment building owned by a Wen family member who refused to let them pay rent and insisted they call him Fourth Uncle. Free rent was nothing to sneeze at in California.

Wei Ying had worried their involvement would cause problems, with them both being low-key blacklisted from the industry, but Wen Qing had pointed out both Compu-Jiang and Gusu Lan Tech dealt in computer hardware more than software or applications.

“A-Ning wouldn’t want to do business with anyone who believes that bullshit, anyway,” she’d said bluntly.

Now, several years later, the company was making a name for itself, and it turned out the software and app industry cared less about the allegations and more about product quality and deadlines—both things Dafan Applications had proven it made good on. Wen Ning and Wen Qing insisted they had much to do with it, with Wei Ying’s coding skills and A-Zhan handling the financial aspects of the company with the same careful frugality he applied still to their own spending.

Really, they were too generous. Dafan Applications had picked up several great coders when Nie Innovations had suffered a bad year and required restructuring, letting go of part of its workforce. Wei Ying hated that they had benefitted from the ill fortune of old friends, but the industry could be cutthroat, and at least the people Dafan employed could still feed their families.

Wen Ning had even started to develop a video game on the side with their help. A-Zhan was able to rediscover his passion for music, tapped to develop a soundtrack for it. It was a back burner project, but it was Wen Ning’s baby, and watching it slowly grow was another bright point in their lives.

They had been essentially adopted by the entire Dafan Wen family. Their found family had kept them going and checked in on them during the bad times. Like when Jiang Yanli wed and was unable to invite them—she had made Jin Zixuan stream the wedding so he could at least watch, but that was all she could do. Fourth Uncle brought champagne and they turned it into a viewing party so Wei Ying would feel less alone. When she had his nephew, who he was not allowed to meet. When they learned Lan Xichen was engaged via a news report. And later when Jiang Fengmian had suffered a mild heart attack and handed the reins of Compu-Jiang to Jiang Cheng, also learned via the news.

During the harder times, when they both sometimes found it difficult to function, Granny and some of the aunties brought lunches and dinners and A-Yuan to cheer them up, and Fourth Uncle came for mahjong and brought drinks, and Wen Qing harassed them into going out and getting fresh air and sunlight.

“Humans are big dumb plants,” she’d said. “And while we’re at it, drink more water.”

So they had started taking A-Yuan to the park every other day, then every day, sometimes even picnicking in the park for lunch. Working from home had perks.

Pretty quickly it was clear the activity did them some good, with Wei Ying having fewer rough mental health days. Though having something to look forward to every day probably helped on its own—it was always good to spend time with A-Yuan.

Granny eventually asked them to adopt A-Yuan because she was struggling to care for him alone. Since they had been helping with his care anyway, she felt they were ideal parents.

“He talks about you all the time,” she had told them. “He adores you.”

The paperwork was relatively easy, given that the adoption was mutually agreed upon. Going before the judge had been mildly terrifying, with Wei Ying worried his past would bite them in the ass. But it turned out to be little more than a formality, and then Wei Yuan was theirs.

Initially they had intended for him to keep his surname, but Wen Qing had insisted.

“He’s yours. Your son. He should have his dads’ name.”

One of the more joyous moments had been when A-Yuan had asked, about a month after the adoption papers went through, if he could call A-Zhan baba and Wei Ying a-die. He had previously been calling them both gege, but they hadn’t wanted to pressure him.

��Of course,” Wei Ying told him, abruptly realizing Wen Qing’s point.

“You’re our son,” A-Zhan added.

All of the difficulties of the past several years felt as though they had melted away in that moment, when A-Yuan smiled at them with his adorable chubby cheeks and called them a-die and baba.

If all the hardship had been a trade for that moment, it was worth it.

They were always made to feel welcome, never left to feel alone, and when they had become the adopted parents of A-Yuan, it made their status as family feel more official.

And now they would be adopting a bunny.

“It’s a bunny,” Wei Ying initially said. “How hard could it be to find a good bunny? Just throw it some carrots, and it’ll be fine!”

“Carrots do not have the nutritional value a rabbit needs, A-Ying.”

“What about Bugs Bunny?”

A-Zhan gave him a Look and texted him an article about child-friendly breeds that make good pets, and Wei Ying’s education began.

He learned, first off, that carrots were too high in sugar for rabbits, and the Bugs Bunny carrot thing had been a reference to a 1930s Clark Gable movie, which of course no one understood anymore.

(Wei Ying was further distracted by other facts about Bugs: the cartoon had single-handedly made the name Nimrod, the biblical hunter, into a synonym for idiot when the sarcastic comparison to Elmer Fudd flew over audiences’ heads, for instance. He also got lost on YouTube watching old clips.)

As it turned out, rabbits came in different sizes, some even almost the size of a border collie—and much preferable to a dog, in Wei Ying’s opinion. Giant Angora rabbits looked like little clouds, they were so floofy. But even though the Flemish giants and Angoras were perhaps his favorite breeds, they didn’t have the space for a rabbit so large. Even a medium sized breed would be pushing it. It wouldn’t be fair to the rabbit.

And so they looked into small breeds, seeking information on care and disposition, cooing with A-Yuan over bunny pictures for hours sometimes. Wei Ying could expect at least one text from his husband a day with a relevant link, and often returned the favor. They found a nearby rabbit-specific veterinarian, and she let them know what they would need in terms of desexing to prevent diseases, vaccinations, and maintenance needs.

Although A-Yuan was only five, they consulted him as well. They explained how bunnies needed to be cared for and needed exercise, and talked about the different kinds of bunnies and breed temperament. A-Zhan explained bunnies had shorter life spans than people, and so the bunny would live its whole life with them.

“It’ll die,” A-Yuan said, immediately understanding. “Like mama and baba before.”

Wei Ying nodded; he too was an orphan, as was A-Zhan. In some ways, that made the conversation easier. It was strange to put it that way, but he and A-Zhan could relate to A-Yuan’s experiences, and so he felt comfortable coming to them when he was upset.

“But we’ll do a good job taking care of the bunny so it lives comfortably and is happy.”

A-Yuan nodded, his expression serious.

“Granny said everything dies. I understand, a-die, baba.”

As a family they settled on the Holland Lop, which was an absolutely adorable breed, docile in nature and good with children. They managed to find a reputable breeder that handled small litters and didn’t overbreed, with the decision down to finding their rabbit.

The breeder emailed them when he had a litter born, and told them they’d get first pick in seven weeks.

That kicked them into overdrive, and they spent the time preparing the apartment, buying anything a young rabbit might want or need. A deluxe hutch, which they tricked out with a hammock, shelves and tiers, a woven cave for the bottom level, and dangly toys. Bedding. Water bottles and a feeder. Food. A litter box with bunny-appropriate litter. A larger collapsible enclosure for outside time. Pet gates for rooms off limits (like the study with wires bunnies might like to nibble). Willow pet chews. Tunnels. Toys, so many toys. Everything was made with natural materials—nothing plastic, A-Zhan insisted. And then there was bunny-proofing the apartment.

It was a bit like adopting A-Yuan all over again, except they had both known him and knew what to expect. In a way, this was scarier.

But things were steady and stable, finally, after nearly five years of struggling, and today it was finally time to adopt the newest member of their family.

On the way over, A-Zhan quizzed A-Yuan on bunny etiquette, somehow, Wei Ying joked, taking the fun out of bunny adoption.

They both ignored him, well used to doing so by now.

“Don’t move fast so you don’t scare them,” A-Yuan chirped in answer to the last question as they pulled into the breeder’s driveway.

“And no loud noises,” A-Zhan added. “So your a-die and I will silence our phones now.”

His husband was pointedly not looking at him, but he knew “loud noises” was meant for him. It was almost a running joke in the family, including the Wens, that Wei Ying couldn’t shut up.

Wei Ying didn’t bother to even roll his eyes, just fished his phone from his pocket to silence it while A-Zhan put the car—borrowed from Wen Qing for the afternoon, since car ownership was a luxury neither of them needed, working from home as they did—in park. He noticed a “breaking news” alert that had been emailed to him, but ignored it.

He looked up to find his husband frowning at his phone—it was just like him to check it even though it was almost always on silent.

“Okay, A-Zhan?”

“My brother called,” he replied after a few seconds.

Wei Ying sat up straighter, noticing the slightly troubled lilt of his tone. Lan Xichen had never reached out in the five years they’d been married.

“Did he leave a voicemail?”

A-Zhan shook his head. Most people wouldn’t notice, but he looked distinctly vulnerable. Wei Ying bit his lip. He was of the opinion that his husband’s brother had made him wait for five years for contact and could wait a bit in return.

But that was a little petty.

“Do… Do you want to call him back?”

There was a longer pause before A-Zhan shook his head resolutely.

“No. Today is for family.”

He put his phone back in his pocket and opened the car door, and Wei Ying paused to glance back at A-Yuan. Their son was often perceptive, and this was no exception.

“Bunnies?” he asked solemnly, his expression that of a child who knew plans could change with bad phone calls.

“Bunnies,” Wei Ying told him, smiling.

He was relieved when the boy smiled back; A-Yuan understood adults sometimes pretended things were okay when they weren’t, but he trusted them.

And, for the moment, they were. That could change, but A-Zhan was right: today was for family.

Apparently that didn’t count his brother anymore, but the bitterness he knew his husband felt could be handled later. After all, he felt his own; Jiang Cheng similarly hadn’t reached out in even longer, once he’d finished railing at Wei Ying via text.

He didn’t know how he’d react if his once-brother suddenly called him. If he hadn’t called when Jiang Fengmian had a heart attack, it was unlikely he ever would.

But for Lan Xichen to call…

The paranoid part of him wondered if A-Zhan’s brother had changed his mind, or if the board had somehow overruled him and he was to be charged after all. He wasn’t sure what the statute of limitations was for the crime they believed he’d committed, but...

Wei Ying only realized he’d spaced out when A-Zhan opened A-Yuan’s door to help him from his car seat. His husband’s questioning look had him pasting on a smile and hurrying to get out of the car.

A-Zhan steadied him when he nearly lost his balance and leaned in close.

“The statute of limitations was three years, A-Ying. It will be fine.”

He sagged in relief, leaning his forehead against A-Zhan’s shoulder briefly. His husband saw right through him, knew what thoughts were making him spiral. He took A-Zhan’s hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

A-Zhan’s lips twitched.

“Between us, there is no need.”

Wei Ying held out his other hand to A-Yuan, who took it with a sweet smile, and together they headed toward the front porch.

The door opened before they could knock, a man about their age surveying them with a bespectacled little girl maybe a little older than A-Yuan peering around his leg. She had the palest eyes he’d ever seen.

“We’re here about the rabbits,” Wei Ying said, offering a smile.

The man offered a small one in return.

“You’re looking for my husband, then. You must be the Wei family he mentioned. Please come in.”

They took their shoes off inside the foyer.

The man introduced himself as Song Lan, and Wei Ying briefly wondered if he had Americanized his name, which was his surname and which was his given.

“This is A-Qing,” Song Lan said, introducing the girl.

A-Yuan offered her a shy smile and received one in return.

He led them through the house into what he called “the bunny room.” He wasn’t kidding. The room was bunny paradise, with a home-made run built using shelves on the walls, multiple hutches, a feeding and eating area, an area of litter boxes, and a prodigious number of toys.

A man in sunglasses was sedately petting one of the bunnies in the midst of it all.

“The Wei family?” he asked, putting down the rabbit and standing to greet them.

“Yeah, baba,” A-Qing answered. “They’re husbands like you and die, and they have a kid, too.”

He held out his hand to shake, and Wei Ying took it first, then A-Zhan. Even A-Yuan reached up and gave a little handshake. The man laughed softly at that. He realized belatedly he should probably introduce them.

“I’m Wei Ying, my husband is Wei Zhan, and then there’s A-Yuan, our son.”

The man nodded and smiled.

“I’m Xiao Xingchen, or as you know me online, SongXiao. My husband helps with that part.”

“And me!” A-Qing added.

“Ah, I can’t forget my tech support, A-Qing and A-Yang. You’ve met our daughter.”

“A-Yang is my brother and he’s a brat but he’s not home right now,” A-Qing said.

“And, of course, there are the bunnies,” Song Lan added.

They sat on the floor with Xiao Xingchen as he gestured for them to do, while Song Lan and A-Qing opened one of the hutches. That was all they really needed to do, as the bunnies made their way to freedom quickly. They were tiny, and if the guides Wei Ying had read were right, would likely only grow to be 3-4 pounds.

One of the black bunnies immediately began hopping around the room at high speed when it was free, jumping around as though in joy.

“That one’s like you, a-die,” A-Yuan commented, and Wei Ying laughed.

A-Qing reached in for a few stragglers and then joined them on the floor, putting one in A-Yuan’s lap as she sat down. Song Lan came with the mother rabbit, whose coat was fully black.

“Fuxue had a litter of six this time around,” Song Lan told them. “Three of each sex.”

There was one brown, two black, and three of different shades of gray.

“They all have gentle dispositions,” Xiao Xingchen added. “Though one of the females is quite energetic, as you noticed.”

A-Yuan pet the one in his lap, a light gray one Song Lan told them was a lilac color. A-Qing put the other light gray one in Wei Ying’s lap, and he couldn’t stop himself from cooing softly at it as his fingers met its soft fur.

“Since we bred her with a lilac, we also have the one blue and the chocolate. Lilac is the light gray, blue is the darker,” Song Lan explained.

The blue was hopping around after the energetic black bunny, at a slower pace. The chocolate kit was approaching A-Zhan with hesitant curiosity. The less energetic black one hopped up to Xiao Xingchen, clearly looking for his familiarity, and hopped into his lap.

He picked it up gently.

“Who doesn’t have a bunny yet?” he asked.

The chocolate was next to A-Zhan’s leg, nosing at the hand he held out. When he pet it, the kit closed its eyes, flopped over, and exposed its belly. When he gently picked it up, it offered no resistance.

“I think it likes you, A-Zhan,” Wei Ying joked. “We all have bunnies. A-Yuan and I have the lilacs, and the chocolate has fallen in love with my husband.”

“He loves to be pet,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Especially if you rub gently right between his ears.”

“The black and lilac are one boy, one girl each. The blue is female,” Song Lan added.

Xiao Xingchen discussed what to expect in terms of personality and needed care, along with specifics about the breed. Most of the details were ones Wei Ying had read online, but some were based on experience with rabbits.

They passed around the four they were holding so they could each meet them, and eventually the blue was curious enough to wander over. But the energetic black needed to be caught by A-Qing.

“She’s really sassy,” A-Qing told them.

“Definitely a big personality,” Xiao Xingchen agreed.

The chatting about bunnies gave way to other chatter—Xiao Xingchen revealed he had lost his eyesight during an illness that had infected the optic nerve, and they had adopted A-Qing because her ocular albinism meant she also had difficulty seeing. Since they had already adapted to his blindness and the agency had labeled her unadoptable, they took her in.

“Honestly, I grew up partly in the system,” he said. “I couldn’t leave her.”

“I did, too,” Wei Ying admitted.

“I inherited this home from my adoptive mother, Baoshan Sanren.”

Wei Ying gasped, and he could feel A-Zhan looking at him in concern.

“She was my mother’s mom,” he said, not able to stop himself from staring. “Cangse Sanren. She and Dad died when I was four.”

“Goodness, what a small world! She had already left for college when I was adopted, so I didn’t get to know her well. I guess that would make me your jiujiu?”

Wei Ying grinned, poking A-Yuan gently.

“A-Yuan, that means Xiao Xingchen is your jiuye, and A-Qing is your tangjie.”

A-Qing looked thrilled.

“I get a cousin? Score!”

Wei Ying could only guess she didn’t have much extended family, and he was glad to add to their found family. A-Yuan had many Wen uncles and aunts and cousins, but he was just as excited. The kids huddled together to talk.

“Definitely a small world,” A-Zhan said.

“Smaller still,” Song Lan said. “I freelance now, but I used to work in the tech industry, so I recognize your names.”

Wei Ying focused on the rabbit in his lap, the chocolate who was sprawled out and nuzzling against his hand, feeling taut and anxious.

“It obviously wasn’t you,” he continued quickly. “But I decided not to work with the major companies after seeing what they would do to their own.”

“They didn’t see me as their own,” Wei Ying said, shaking his head, hating the feeling rising in his chest.

Silence fell among them, interrupted by the kids chattering nearby. It was clear Xiao Xingchen didn’t know what they were talking about, but Song Lan could explain later.

“A-Ying found his family,” A-Zhan said after a moment. “As did I.”

“I would be honored to be a part of it,” Xiao Xingchen said. “It is good to finally meet my waisheng.”

The discomfort passed, Xiao Xingchen filling the silence with stories of his adoptive mother, the stories he knew of Wei Ying’s mother, the tales soothing his anxiety. The bunny in his lap helped, it’s warmth and nuzzling relaxing.

Eventually Xiao Xingchen asked the big question.

“Which of the bunnies appealed to you?”

Wei Ying and A-Zhan exchanged a glance before they turned to A-Yuan.

“The brown one,” A-Yuan said immediately. “He cuddles.”

The same one Wei Ying was fond of, currently in his lap. A-Zhan nodded his agreement.

“He’s on my lap nuzzling me now,” Wei Ying said.

“Any ideas on names yet?” Song Lan asked.

“Turmeric or Nutmeg,” A-Yuan supplied. “They’re warm, like him.”

“Not Cinnamon?” Wei Ying asked teasingly.

“No. I bet everyone names brown rabbits Cinnamon.”

Xiao Xingchen laughed.

“Well, you’ll probably figure out what spice is most like him as you get to know him better.”

They packed up the bunny, A-Qing taking him around to say goodbye to each of his siblings and mother. Xiao Xingchen insisted on giving them the friends and family discount, and they exchanged numbers so they could find more time to get to know each other.

The drive home was quiet, punctuated with chatter by A-Yuan about A-Qing and Turmeric or Nutmeg.

The bunny took to his new home well, seemingly happy with the space and toys and food, and they watched him and played with him for hours until he eventually entered the hutch and climbed into the hammock.

A-Yuan was yawning and dinner hadn’t been made, so A-Zhan ordered pizza, something they rarely did, which made it a treat. While they ate, A-Yuan told them solemnly the bunny’s name was Turmeric. Wei Ying asked if his middle name was Nutmeg, and A-Yuan smiled widely and nodded, and thus Turmeric Nutmeg Wei became their newest family member.

By the time A-Yuan was fed and bathed and tucked in, he was ready to fall right to sleep, and Wei Ying was able to snuggle on the sofa with A-Zhan with a little time left before bed.

“You found more family,” A-Zhan said, smiling softly, lacing their hands together.

“We found more family,” Wei Ying corrected. “What’s mine is yours, xinai.”

He scooted closer to A-Zhan until he was almost in his lap. The events of earlier were on his mind, the mysterious phone call, what it might mean. He knew his husband was concerned. Even if the silence between them was comfortable, he worried about A-Zhan.

“Did you want to call your brother?” he asked.

A-Zhan shook his head, then leaned in for a kiss.

“No. Today is for family. I want to take you to bed.”

Even after five years, when A-Zhan said things like that Wei Ying melted.

When A-Zhan pulled him up and tugged him toward their bedroom, he hindered him a little with kisses, but they eventually made it.

In the morning they would learn Wei Ying had been proven innocent; the culprit was actually Lan Xichen’s fiance, Meng Yao. His scion Su She took the opportunity to frame Wei Ying out of jealousy, wanting A-Zhan for himself.

The bad year at Nie Industries was caused by the very same code, undiscovered until a large number shares were suddenly liquidated and stocks plummeted, until millions of dollars were syphoned from corporate accounts and disappeared. Nie Huaisang had put the pieces together, had worked with the FBI and proved it was Meng Yao working on behalf of Jin Enterprises at the behest of his father.

Later, Gusu Lan Tech would ask A-Zhan to return home to chair the board after a vote of no confidence in Lan Xichen, and he would tell them no. He was part of Dafan Applications now, he had a home, and he was happy where he was.

Later, the Wei family might consider responding to overtures from the families they once had.

Tonight they didn’t have that knowledge.

Tonight was for family, and right then was for A-Zhan and Wei Ying, with no room for anything outside of their home.

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

Text

the way it was - chapter 22

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

but you're a king and i'm a lionheart

When Chris had invited Riza and Mia around to the bar for dinner, Riza didn’t expect her daughter to be whisked away immediately by Vanessa as soon as they set foot inside the bar. Chris approached with determination.

“We need to talk.”

Anxiety settled in Riza’s stomach. What was all this about? There was no room for argument as Chris turned on her heel and walked away, expecting Riza to follow.

Riza wondered if this had something to do with Roy. He’d suddenly called shortly after arriving at work that morning to say that he wouldn’t be home until late that night. He had some work to do, but he was sorry, and he loved them both. She didn’t think much of it, just told him to be safe and got on with her day. Then, Chris called shortly afterwards, encouraging Riza to come for dinner. While she thought it would be lovely to spend the evening with her mother-in-law, there was a tiny niggle in the back of her mind that something was happening behind the scenes.

Chris led the way through to the backroom of the bar, into her home. She led Riza into her kitchen without any kind of indication of what the topic of discussion would be, and that made the wait worse. Was this something she needed to worry about? Riza’s thoughts were interrupted by Mia’s happy squeal from somewhere in the house, followed by Vanessa’s laugh.

Uncertainty clawed at Riza’s heart. She wanted to ask what was going on but knew better. Everything Chris did was for a reason, so if she was leading Riza away from Mia then it was something their daughter shouldn’t overhear. Riza bit her tongue.

Once inside the kitchen, Chris gestured for Riza to sit.

“Roy will be working late tonight, but I’m sure you already know about that.”

“He called this morning,” Riza confirmed.

Chris nodded. “He’s going to do something tonight, and wanted you brought here as a precaution.”

“What’s he doing?” Riza asked. Her stomach tightened at the serious look on Chris’ face.

“He’s going to fake someone’s death using his flame alchemy.” There was no hesitation, she stated it as bluntly as she could.

“Oh…" Riza's heart thudded inside her chest at the revelation. "Wait.” Riza paused, something clicking inside of her mind. “Does this have anything to do with Maria Ross?”

It had been all over the papers for a few days. Apparently the soldier had killed Maes Hughes. Initially, Riza had scrutinised the photo and wondered how that woman could have taken someone else’s life. She’d been an exemplary soldier, according to the news, so why would she murder one of her own? The story didn’t quite add up for Riza, and it didn’t for Roy either.

They hadn’t spoken much about it. They didn’t get a chance really when Mia was around. However, he’d spent more time in his study in the evenings after Mia had gone to bed. Riza would pop her head in and ask if he needed anything, only to be greeted by a tired smile and the reassurance he was all right. She’d spotted Maes’ name on the papers in front of him, alongside Maria Ross', which Roy had quickly scribbled down then scored out. Riza knew he was investigating his friend’s death and was worried for him. Roy explained he couldn’t do it at work, so would spend an hour or two looking over things. Sometimes Riza offered her own input but couldn’t do much. She had a good eye for details but wasn’t in investigations. Still, she could be someone he could talk to about it all.

Chris nodded. “It does. He’s going to fake her death tonight.”

“How though?” Maria Ross was in prison. What was he up to?

“He’s staging a prison break and will “kill” her.” Chris used finger quotations to explain herself.

Riza swallowed.

“It’s all staged though, don’t worry. He has a dummy at the ready that I helped procure the ingredients for. Breda came to me with some things he needed, and I helped the operation along. Havoc will protect Ross and help get her out of the country.”

“So, why bring Mia and I here?”

“Roy asked if I could invite you for dinner, partly as a precaution but also because he probably felt guilty he wouldn’t be home tonight.”

Riza nodded, things falling into place. He had sounded regretful on the phone earlier when he said he wouldn’t be home.

“Why is us being out of the house a precaution?”

Chris shrugged. “Beats me, but I have a pretty good theory.”

“What is it?”

She regarded Riza quietly for a long moment, which only caused frustration to build.

“Chris, please. If my daughter is in some kind of danger then I deserve to know what it is.”

She eyed Riza once more before nodding. “There’s dangerous people roaming around Central right now. They each bear a matching tattoo. An Ouroboros tattoo. They’re tied to the military somehow, but we don’t know why yet.”

Ouroboros… Riza had seen that word mentioned before, years ago in an ancient history book. She was sure it had been in her father’s study. “What does the tattoo look like?” At the mention of a tattoo, her back tingled lightly as a reminder. She hadn’t discussed any form of tattoo with anyone in a long time. They weren’t popular around Amestris, so weren’t a regular topic of conversation.

“A snake eating its own tail.”

That definitely sounded familiar to Riza. She was sure she’d seen it on Roy’s desk at home, half-hidden by other pieces of paper.

“And these people pose a threat?”

Chris nodded. “We don’t know who they’re targeting, but yes, they do. Just be cautious, all right? Know that if you ever need anything, I’m just a call away as well.”

Riza sat back in her chair.

“I have no reason to believe they will contact you personally, however, just keep an eye out," Chris warned.

“I will,” she swallowed. She was still in a daze from all this new information. It was weighing on her heavily. If Roy was targeted by them, who was to say they wouldn’t use her or Mia to get to him? She shuddered at the thought.

“Roy Boy asked if I could at least fill you in on what was going on tonight, and promised he’d answer any questions you had as soon as possible,” Chris added. “He sent me a coded message earlier and then a quick call. I have the letter if you want to see it?”

Curiosity got the better of her, and Riza nodded.

As Chris left the room Riza remained in place, processing the information she’d been given tonight.

This was… big. Riza knew of his plan to get to the top and was well aware of everything that entailed now, but… Now it was real. He was taking steps here that, if found out, could get him court-martialled. Her stomach twisted. But she knew him, and she knew his team. They were smart as hell. And if Chris was on their side too, helping them along, it eased Riza’s worries a little bit.

“I also have this, if you could pass it onto him?” Chris handed her an envelope along with the piece of paper. The front was blank, giving nothing away. “More information for him.”

This was usual practice between them both. Over the years when Riza and Mia had gone to visit Chris and Roy’s sisters, messages in letters had been passed onto Riza to be delivered to Roy. Riza knew he’d been overreacting when he insisted on not getting her involved in anything. And she’d been right. What was so dangerous about picking up a handful of envelopes to hand over to her husband?

“I will.”

“I’ll get us a drink.” Chris excused herself and left Riza with Roy’s coded letter.

It was a story. There were various names on the paper, each one starting with a specific letter at the beginning. Those letters were used to spell out the words of his message. Riza didn’t bother to read the story he’d crafted. The message itself was all that held her attention at that moment.

Jailbreak MR. Get Riza and Mia for dinner. Love both.

She smiled at the last part, her finger stroking over the paper.

Sometimes Riza would read the story just to see how he managed to fit it all together. Riza had tried it too in her spare time, leaving little notes for him in his office at home. Then he'd started doing it as well without a word of warning. His were far cuter than hers, with a message of ‘I love you’ left all over the house. Soon, it was common practice and they’d shown Mia how to do it too. Her messages weren’t long or complex, but it was just a bit of fun for the small family.

“He’s a dramatic one,” Chris snorted. “Jailbreak,” she muttered. “I don’t know where he got that flair from.”

Riza laughed. “He used to always tell me it was from you and wondered how I couldn’t see it.”

Chris shook her head and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “He’s a strange one, that’s for sure.”

“He certainly knows how to keep us on our toes,” Riza murmured, turning her focus back to his letter.

“He didn’t want to speak to you about it over the phone, is my guess. Too many people potentially listening in.”

“I know,” Riza reassured her. “I just hope tonight goes well for all involved.”

“That fake corpse was perfectly constructed,” Chris replied, sipping at her water. Her cigarette was absent from her lips. “And Roy, having a flair for dramatics, will make sure it’s well presented.”

Riza’s stomach turned. “Where are they taking Maria?” she asked, trying to turn the conversation away from the “corpse”.

“No idea. That was need to know only.”

Humming in agreement, Riza took a sip of her own water.

“I had another reason for bringing you here tonight, Riza.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve expressed interest in the part of becoming a part-time informant.”

She nodded. “I have.”

“Have you ever been interested in working the floor? You can absolutely say no,” Chris added, lifting her hands in front of her to placate any objections. “All you’d have to do is sit and talk to people.”

Riza cocked her head and considered it. Then grimaced. “No. The whole reason for me to come and collect the messages from you and the girls was to stop people thinking Roy was cheating on me by going out on “dates” with them. What would happen if word got out at his place of work that his wife was cheating on him?”

“A fair point, and a very good answer,” Chris chipped in. “However, I suppose I worded that incorrectly. Let me rephrase that, would you be interested in talking to people to gather information rather than simply collecting messages?”

“In what way?”

“Military wives love to gossip. They come in every Friday night. While their husbands sit in the bar, we have a space for them to catch up and basically moan about their partners for a couple of hours. It’s in the back of the bar, in that room just off to the right as you go out.”

Riza had noticed the door there but hadn’t thought much more of it. She’d never been through there.

“Your upstart Colonel husband would be a good talking point for those ladies,” Chris ventured.

“Are you asking me to gossip about my husband?” Riza frowned.

“Not at all, but you would be welcomed into their social circle openly. Roy Boy is certainly making a name for himself, especially after coming to Central, and he’s a hot topic of conversation.”

Riza wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Of course. Mostly because he’s a breath of fresh air with all the old stuffy military officials that usually frequent their company.”

She still wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “And I assume these conversations are all innocent?”

Chris shook her head. “Riza, all those women are old enough to be Roy’s mother,” she chuckled. “They dote on him because he’s a kind kid who's friendly and polite to everyone. Always the charmer," she snorted. "Vanessa very quickly put an end to any possible… not so innocent thoughts. She went in there one Friday gushing about Roy’s beautiful wife and his adorable daughter.”

She laughed when Riza’s cheeks turned pink at the compliment, and Riza coughed to hide it.

“I’m not jealous,” Riza assured Chris. “I just don’t want pointless gossip to ruin his reputation.”

“If anything, they love your little family even more now. They ate it up. It’s the truth, of course, but they really do say nothing but good things, I promise. The girls covering the party make sure of it.” Chris sat back in her chair. “It was just an idea,” she relented. “Some other way for you to help. Military wives on a Friday night can be very animated, and I thought you stopping by would get them to open up even more. It’s completely up to yourself," she relented. "It can be a onetime thing or a regular occurrence. It was just something to try."

“I’ll consider it,” Riza stated carefully. She’d need to weigh her options and if she could find someone to look after Mia if Roy was working.

“That’s all I ask. Roy told me a while back you were interested in being an informant, and the idea occurred to me after that last Friday night.”

“What happened last Friday night?”

“Lots more oohing and ahing over your perfect family,” she smirked. “Honestly, they eat it up Riza. You should come and see it for yourself someday.”

“Are you suggesting we’re not perfect,” Riza quipped, smiling over the rim of her glass.

“No one is perfect,” Chris replied with her own smirk. “But they are correct. You are a beautiful woman and Mia is extremely adorable.”

Chris guffawed while Riza mumbled her thanks at another compliment from her. She was sure Chris only did it because she got a kick out of it.

“Every word of that is the truth,” Chris stated assuredly. “Come on, let’s go and see what Mia’s up to. See if she’s tired out Vanessa yet,” she chuckled.

* * *

Mia was half asleep as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. The offer to remain at Chris’ for the night was there, but Mia had school tomorrow morning so it would be easier for Riza to just take her home. Her mother-in-law had also offered Roxanne’s protection. While Riza appreciated it and welcomed the determined and eager look on Roxanne’s face, she politely declined the offer.

Riza had only been in bed for fifteen minutes or so before she heard the front door opening. Her body tensed in its half-asleep state, but relaxed when she heard Roy sigh from downstairs. Lights were turned off as he climbed the stairs. With heavy footsteps, he reached the top of the stairs but stopped outside Mia’s bedroom door. Riza heard it creak open as he checked in on her. The house turned silent as he did so.

Their bedroom door opened and Riza looked up. Like his footfalls suggested, he looked exhausted, but he still offered her a smile.

“Hi,” he greeted. Roy’s voice sounded a little hoarse as he spoke, discarding his military jacket over the back of the armchair on his side of the bed.

“Hey,” she smiled. “How did it go?”

“Everything went well. The plan went off without a hitch.”

Roy kicked his trousers off and placed it over his jacket on the chair. His shirt however was discarded into a pile on the floor, so he remained in only his boxers. Climbing into bed, Roy wrapped his arms around Riza tightly, giving her a squeeze. A kiss was pressed to her forehead and Riza sighed into it, her body relaxing now she knew that he was home.

“Maria is safe?”

Roy nodded. “On her way to Xerxes.”

“Xerxes? That’s quite a distance,” she commented, racking her brain to try and think how far through the desert that was.

“We’ve determined that whoever is behind it all is working throughout Amestris,” Roy yawned. “I wanted to be safe. I have some associates from Xing, and they’ll escort her there.”

“And are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled tiredly.

“Chris told me what you had to do with the… corpse.” Riza grimaced. Her tired mind couldn’t think of a better or more tactful way to word it.

“It was fine. I saved someone’s life tonight, that’s what matters,” he yawned again, but his expression quickly turned pained. “I did become the villain for doing it though.”

“How come?”

“Edward always seems to be in the wrong place at the right time,” he mumbled. “He saw me ‘killing’ Ross. I had no idea who was tailing him or if he was compromised so I had to go with the murder story.”

“I’m sorry, Roy.”

“It’s all right,” he sighed. “But thank you. The kid hates me for sure now,” Roy chuckled. “But he’ll be on his way to Xerxes soon enough too so he can find out the truth.” His eyelids fluttered closed.

Riza looked up as his eyelashes splayed across his cheeks and his face finally relaxed. The day��s events had been weighing on him, and she was loath to take up any more of his sleeping time.

“Get some rest, Roy,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He grunted softly in response, deepening the kiss for a moment. “Just what I needed to feel better,” he grinned. It was that dopey smile that he only showed when he was tired, and Riza loved it. “Plus, I’ll need it. Tomorrow will be another long day.” Then, she felt him pause. “There’s… something coming up in a few days. I anticipate we’ll need to go after one of the people with the Ouroboros tattoo. Can you go to my mother’s that night?”

“Is this something I should be concerned about?”

Roy shook his head. “No. And I mean it,” he added earnestly. “I really don’t anticipate anything like that coming your way, however, it would give me peace of mind to know you’re all together.”

“You know I can handle myself,” she quipped lightly.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead again. “But until I know exactly what I’m dealing with and how to handle it, it would let me breathe easier if I knew my pregnant wife and my daughter were under my mother’s protection. She has a whole labyrinth of tunnels underneath her bar. If the wrong people come knocking then you can hide under there and I’ll come when it’s safe.”

“The wrong people, huh?”

He nodded. “The Ouroboros gang,” he drawled. “Keep an eye out for anyone with that tattoo by the way. I have a picture of it in my office. I’ll show you it tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, your mother already explained it to me.”

His eyelids drifted closed again and Riza smiled. She lifted a hand to caress his face lightly with her fingers. He flinched in fright but turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.

“Get some sleep,” she prompted.

“You said that before then distracted me,” he grumbled.

“I can take that kiss back,” she joked, moving out of his hold. This caused him to latch onto her torso even tighter.

“Please don’t,” he begged. “I’m sorry,” he gushed dramatically.

“Go to sleep, Roy. I love you.”

He hummed with a smile. “Love you too.”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

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zoyswords · 4 years ago

Text

Wedding Dress

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Author’s Notes:

#Fanfic written for MLDD #MrLoveDreamDate #MidYearContest !

Description: the boys reaction after seeing her post on her Moments, a picture of her in wedding dress but not as their bride.

Characters : MC (POV), Gavin, Kiro, Lucien, Victor, Anna, Kiki, Willow

Word Count: ±1463 words

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I look into the mirror, and I see a reflection of a girl in a beautiful wedding dress, even when her face is hidden in veil, I can see her flawless make up that match her dress. She also wears silver jewelries: necklace, earrings, and ring, which perfect her look. While I'm busy looking at the reflection, Anna calls me.

"here's your heels, and the hand bouquet "

"thankyou Anna, "

"something wrong? you look speechless?! "

"I'm amazed with this look Anna, so beautiful, the dress, the jewelries, the make up, the heels too... "

"and also, you! they look perfect on you, beautiful girl. ahhh I can't wait until you walking down the aisle with your Mr. Right. It will be the happiest moment in my life. "

"oohh Anna... " with that I hug her, thank her for all the years she takes care of me, and also the company.

"wait, we should take a picture of you. I don't want to lose this moment. where is your phone? "

"here... " I give her my phone.

She takes several picture of me and her until she thinks she takes some perfect pictures.

"look, you are so beautiful miss... "

"Anna, you are exaggerating... " I said to her shyly

Maybe all the beautiful things on me right now are the cause of this beautiful look. I feel like I should post it on my Moments.

I think of a proper caption, then post it. A picture of a girl in a beautiful wedding dress, smiles happily, holding a hand bouquet, with a caption ;

"All girls are beautiful, especially in her wedding dress♡ on her wedding day♡"

After that, Anna calls me to prepare myself, so I put my phone in my bag and follow her.

Three hours later, Kiki and Willow visits us on the site. They look so exhausted.

"Boss, you should check your Moments. "

"what happened?" I asked curiously to Kiki.

"please just check it... "

I take my bag and take out my phone. I turn on the screen and there are so many missed calls and messages. I ignore those first and check my Moments as Kiki says, and I find these comments on my post.

Anna : "oh my, you look so beautiful. I am in tears of happiness right now. your father would be so happy too if he sees you now... "

Kiki : "Boss, is that really you? you look so awesome and amazing in that wedding dress. I wonder if your groom will be so proud and happy to see you... "

Lucien : "my little fool is so beautiful in her wedding dress. I can't believe this day will come so soon... "

Victor : "dummy, so, I'm not invited to your wedding? "

Gavin : "you look even more beautiful than what I saw in my dreams all this time. congratulation... "

Kiro : "Miss Chips, you look perfect but isn't it incomplete without my presence in your wedding? "

reading all these comments from them, I feel so guilty. I felt something might go wrong, I quickly continue checking the missed calls and messages. oh my, there are so many...

missed calls :

17 from Gavin

1 from Lucien

3 from Victor

9 from Kiro

5 from Kiki and 2 from Willow

messages : 1 from each boy

Gavin :

"Hi, umm. I really don't know what to say. I'm a bit shocked by this sudden news about your wedding. why didn't you tell me anything about this? are you afraid that I might intimidate him? no I wont.

by the way, I didn't see you wearing the ginkgo bracelet on that photo, am I right?

I know it's wrong to say something like this especially at the moment but I just want to say that my feelings towards you will never change. I know, I am sorry. I really don't know what to say.

I was hoping that you would gave me a chance to compete with that man to be your groom, or did I missed the chance you gave me without I realized it? oh my, I'm so sorry. I should've worked harder.

I know it's all too late now, all there's left to say is congratulation. wishing you lots of joy and love, and happy marriage. as long as you are happy, I'll be happy for you too. "

Lucien :

"My little fool, congratulation on your wedding. may the love and happiness always be with you two.

for me, you are my forever little fools who comes to me whenever she faces difficulties. It's hard to believe that this day is coming so soon. I am gonna miss my lovely neighbor who always calls me whenever she can't sleep at night.

The wedding dress suits you well. you look perfect, so beautiful. the most beautiful bride I have ever seen in my life. and my most favorite one is your smile, so pure filled with happiness. I am really happy for you, even tho it's not me by your side.

where did you meet him? did your aunt succesfully set a blind date for you? I hope you marry him because you love each other deeply, not beacuse you were forced, because if so, I would steal his bride right away.

well, no, just kidding. I hope he treasures you like I do, like everyone around you that loves you so much.

I hope it's not the end of our, relationship, I mean you can always come to me whenever you need me. I'll always be there.

once again, congratulation. "

Victor :

"Dummy, who am I to you? why am I not invited to your wedding? am I a stranger? and who the groom is? you didn't introduce him to me? is he a good man? did I know him already? you should've introduce him to me first dummy...

anyway congratulation on your wedding. tell me what wedding gift you want, whatever it is I think I can grant it.

I hope he can take care of you and your clumsy, dummy side like I always do. I hope he can protect and cherish you like I do. I hope he knows you well, about what you love and what you dislike. I hope he can make you a pudding that can make your sadness go away and can raise your smile. I hope he can value your time and willing to do everything for you. I hope he is the best man for you.

take your time to enjoy your special moments, I'll be waiting here, for you to submit your next report. "

Kiro :

"Miss Chips, so you've decided to marry him? is he handsome? more handsome than me? more charming? more cute? is that why you choose him to be your groom? do you love him?

Miss Chips, so now who is gonna help me complete my next superhero collection? who is gonna help me runaway from my agent? or making an excuse for me to him?

however, believe me, I am very happy for you. you look so beautiful and very happy. but tell me, why you didn't tell me anything about this? why so sudden? are you afraid that you are gonna hurt me? no Miss Chips, did you forget that I am a superhero Kiro? especially this is your special happy moments. I would not ruin it. but I am sad that I am not there by your side, I mean to congratulate you.

Miss Chips I'll miss you and every moments I have spent with you. now you start your own journey with him, I wish you two a happy marriage which full of loves.

sincerely, your previous hero, Kiro. "

after reading all the comments and messages, I feel really really bad because I made them misunderstand my post about the wedding dress. Now, I don't know how to explain it to them! should I just reply their comments? or reply their messages? but it seems like I already broke their heart. or should I call them one by one? will there be enough time to explain it to all of them?

Anna snap me out of my thought, and ask worriedly,

"what happened? "

"the boys think that I am marrying someone because of my post on my Moments... "

"oh my, that's bad. I am sorry, it's my fault to have you to be one of the models, we don't have any other choice, we couldn't find other models.

so now, how are you gonna explain to them that it's just a photoshoot for a wedding gown advertisement project?

" I don't know Anna..., help me... "

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#fanfic #mldd #mrlovedreamdate #mr love dream date #kiro #gavin #victor #lucien #midyearcontest

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teshknowledgenotes · 4 years ago

Text

THE E-MYTH REVISITED NOTES

WHY?

A lot of successful people recommend this book and the concepts in this book about businesses should benefit my life, whether it's stocks or starting my own business.

NOTES

The basic difference between an ordinary man and a warrior is that a warrior takes everything as a challenge while an ordinary man takes everything either as a blessing or a curse, then I am as guilty of being an ordinary man as the next guy, and on occasion have ascended to the warrior state.

In the 25 years of life, I have experienced near financial and business disaster as well as incredible victories, have created new companies to expand my dream, vision, purpose and mission beyond what is included in this book, have seen my marriage collapse and with it lost control over my company, without even a glimpse of what is going on wit it. At the same time, I discovered what power I do possess, why it is important, and why in the end, everything depends upon my determination to live my life authentically, to pursue my vision unceasingly, and to live it to the fullest of my being.

My experience has shown me that the people who are exceptionally good in business aren't so because of what they know but because if their insatiable need to know more.

The problem with most failing businesses I've encountered is not that their owners don't know enough about finance, marketing, management, and operations they don't, but those things are easy enough to learn, but that they spend their time and energy defending what they think they know. The greatest business people I've met are determined to get it right no matter what the cost.

Chapter 1: The Entrepreneurial Myth

Picture the typical entrepreneur and Herculean pictures come to mind: a man or woman standing alone, wind blown against the elements, bravely defying insurmountable odds, climbing sheer faces of treacherous rock all to realize the dream of creating a business of one's own.

The legend reeks of nobility, of loft, extra human efforts, of a prodigious commitment to larger than life ideals. Well there are such people, my experience tells me they are rare. Of the thousands of business people I have had the opportunity to know and work with over the past two decades, few were real entrepreneurs when I met them. The vision was all but gone in most. The zest for the climb had turned into a terror of heights. The face of the rock had become something to cling to rather than to scale. Exhaustion was common, exhilaration rare. But hadn't all of them once been entrepreneurs? After all, they had started their own business. There must have been some dream that drove them to take such a risk. But if so where was the dream now? Why had it faded? Where was the entrepreneur who had started the business?

To understand the E-Myth and the misunderstanding at it's core, let's take a closer look at the person who goes into business. Not after he goes into business, but before.

For that matter, where were you before you started your business? And if you're thinking about going into business, where are you know?

Well, if you're like most of the people I've known, you were working for somebody else.

What were you doing? Probably technical work, like almost everybody who goes into business.

You were a carpenter, a mechanic or a machinist.

You were a bookkeeper or a poodle clipper, a drafts person or a hair dresser, a barber or a computer programmer, a doctor or a technical writer, a graphic artist or an accountant, an interior design or a plumber or a salesperson. But whatever you were, you were doing technical work. And you were probably good at it. But you were doing it for somebody else. The one day for no apparent reason something happened, it might have been a feeling that your boss didn't really appreciate your contribution to the success of his business.

Inside your mind it sounded something like this: “What am I doing this for? Why am I working for this guy? Hell, I know as much about this business as he does. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't have a business. And dummy can run a business, I'm working for one.”

The thought of independence followed you everywhere. The idea of being your own boss, doing your own thing, singing your own song, became obsessively irresistible.

Once you were stricken with an Entrepreneurial Seizure, there was no relief. You couldn't get rid of it. You had to start your own business.

In the throes of your Entrepreneurial Seizure you fell victim to the most disastrous assumption anyone can make about going into business. The fatal assumption is: if you understand the technical work of a business, you understand a business that does that technical work. And the reason it's fatal is that it just isn't true. In fact it's the root cause of most small business failures! The technical work of a business and a business that does the technical work are two totally different things! But the technician who starts a business fails to see this. To the technician suffering from an Entrepreneurial Seizure a business is not a business but a place to go to work.

The real tragedy is that when the technician falls prey to the Fatal Assumption, the business that was supposed to free him from the limitations of working for somebody else actually enslaves him. Suddenly the job he knew how to do so well becomes one job he knows how to do plus a dozen others he doesn't know how to do at all. Because although the Entrepreneurial Seizure started the business, it's the technician who goes to work.

And suddenly, an entrepreneurial dream turns into a technician's nightmare.

The technician suffering from an Entrepreneurial Seizure takes the work he loves to do and turns it into a job. The work that was born out of love becomes a chore, among a welter of other less familiar and less pleasant chores. Rather than maintaining its specialness, representing the unique skill the technician possesses and upon which he started the business, the work becomes trivialized, something to get through in order to make room for everything else that must be done. Every technician suffering from an Entrepreneurial Seizure experiences exactly the same thing. First, exhilaration, second terror, third exhaustion, and finally despair. A terrible sense of loss not only the loss of what was closest to them, their special relationship with their work, but the loss of purpose, the loss of self.

Chapter 2: The Entrepreneur, The Manager, and The Technician

No, The Technician isn't the only problem. The problem is more complicated than that. The problem is that everybody who goes into business is actually three-people-in-one: The Entrepreneur, The Manager, and The Technician. And the problem is compounded by the fact that while each of these personalities wants to be the boss, none of them want to have a boss. So they start a business together in order to get rid of the boss. And the conflict begins. To show you how the problem manifests itself in all of us, let's examine the way our various internal personalities interact. Let's take a look at two personalities we're all familiar with: The Fat Guy & The Skinny Guy.

Have you ever decided to go on a diet?

You're sitting in front of the television set one Saturday afternoon, watching an athletic competition, awed by the athletes' stamina and dexterity.

You're eating a sandwich, your second since you sat down to watch the event two hours before.

You're feeling sluggish in the face of all the action on the screen when, suddenly somebody wakes up in you and says “What are you doing? Look at yourself, You're Fat! You're out of shape! Do something about it!”

It has happened to us all. Somebody wakes up inside us with a totally different picture of who we should be and what we should be doing. In this case, let's call him The Skinny Guy.

Who's The Skinny Guy? He's the one who uses words like discipline, exercise, organization. The Skinny Guy in intolerant, self righteous, a stickler for detail, a compulsive tyrant.

The Skinny Guy abhors fat people. Can't stand sitting around. Needs to be on the move. Lives for action. The Skinny Guy has just taken over. Watch out things are going to change.

You have a new lease on life and by Monday night, you've lost two pounds. Tuesday night you get on the scale another pound gone.

On Wednesday you can't wait to get on the scale. You strip down to your bare skin, shivering in the bathroom, filled with expectation of what your scale is going to tell you. You step lightly onto it and look down. What you see is nothing. You haven't lost an ounce. You're exactly the same as you were on Tuesday.

Dejection creeps in. You begin to feel a slight twinge of resentment “After all that work? After all that sweat and effort? And then nothing? It isn't fair” But you shrug it off. After all, tomorrow's another day. You go to bed, vowing to work harder on Thursday. But somehow something has changed.

You don't know what's changed until Thursday morning. It's raining. The room is cold. Something feels different. What is it? For a minute or two you can't quite put your finger on it. And then you get it: somebody else is in your body. It's The Fat Guy! He's Back! And he doesn't want to run. As a matter of fact, he doesn't even want to get out of bed it's cold outside.

All of a sudden you find yourself in front of the refrigerator. Food is now your major interest. The marathon is gone, the lean machine is gone, the sweats and barbells and running shoes are gone. The Fat Guy is back. He's running the show again. It happens to all of us, time and time again. Because we've been deluded into thinking we're really one person.

And so when The Skinny Guy decides to change things we actually believe that it's I who's making that decision. And when The Fat Guy wakes up and changes it all back again, we think it's I who's making that decision too. But it isn't I. It's we.

The Skinny Guy and The Fat Guy are two totally different personalities, with different needs, different interests, and different lifestyles.

That's why they don't like each other. They each want totally different things.

When you're The Skinny Guy you're always making promises for The Fat Guy to keep. And when you're The Fat Guy, you're always making promises for the Skinny Guy to keep. It's not that we're indecisive or unreliable, it's that each and every one of us is a whole set of different personalities, each with his own interests and way of doing things. Asking any one of them to defer to any of the others is inviting a battle or even a full scale war.

Well this is the kind of war going on inside the owner of every small business. But it's a three way battle between The Entrepreneur, The Manager, and The Technician. Unfortunately it's a battle no one can win.

The entrepreneurial personality turns the most trivial condition into an exceptional opportunity. The Entrepreneur is the visionary in us. The dreamer. The energy behind every human activity. The imagination that sparks the fire of the future. The catalyst for change.

The Entrepreneur lives in the future, never in the past, rarely in the present. He's happiest when left free to construct images of “what-if” and “if-when”.

The Entrepreneur is our creative personality always at its best dealing with the unknown, prodding the future, creating probabilities out of possibilities, engineering chaos into harmony.

Every strong entrepreneurial personality has an extraordinary need for control. Living as he does in the visionary world of the future, he needs control of people and events in the present so that he can concentrate on his dreams.

The managerial personality is pragmatic. Without The Manager there would be no planning, no order, no predictability. The Manager is the part of that goes to Sears and buys stacking plastic boxes, takes them back to the garage, and systematically stores all the various sized nuts, bolts, and screws in their own carefully identified drawer.

If The Entrepreneur lives in the future, The Manager lives in the past. Where the entrepreneur craves control, The Manager craves order.

Where The Entrepreneur thrives on change, The Manager compulsively clings to the status quo. Where The Entrepreneur invariable sees the opportunity in events, The Manager invariably sees the problems. The Manager builds a house and then lives in it, forever. The Entrepreneur builds a house and the instant it's done begin planning the next one. Without The Manager there could be no business, no society. Without The Entrepreneur, there would be no innovation.

The Technician is the doer. “If you want it done right do it yourself” is The Technician's credo.

The Technician loves to tinker. Things are to be taken apart and put back together again. Things aren't supposed to be dreamed about, they're supposed to be done.

If The Entrepreneur lives in the future and The Manager lives in the past, The Technician lives in the present. He loves the feel of things and the fact that things can get done.

As long as The Technician is working, he is happy, but only one thing at a time. He knows that two things can't get done simultaneously, only a fool would try. So he works steadily and is happiest when he is in control of the work flow.

As a result, The Technician mistrusts those he works for, because they are always trying to get more work done than is either possible or necessary.

To The Technician, thinking is unproductive unless it's thinking about the work that needs to be done.

As a result, he is suspicious of lofty ideas or abstractions. Thinking isn't work, it gets in the way of work. The Technician isn't interested in ideas, he's interested in “how to do it”. To The Technician knows that if it weren't for him, the world would be in more trouble than it already is. Nothing would get done, but lots of people would be thinking about it.

Put another way, while The Entrepreneur dreams, The Manager frets, and The Technician ruminates.

The Technician is a resolute individualist, standing his ground, producing today's bread to eat at tonight's dinner. He is the backbone of every cultural tradition, but most importantly of ours. If The Technician didn't do it, it wouldn't get done.

Everyone gets in the Technician's way. The Entrepreneur is always throwing a monkey wrench into his day with the creation of yet another “great new idea”

On the other hand, The Entrepreneur is always creating new and interesting work for The Technician to do, thus establishing a potentially symbiotic relationship. Unfortunately it rarely works out that way. Since most entrepreneurial ideas don't work in the real world.

The Manager is also a problem to The Technician because he is determined to impose order on The Technician's work, to reduce him to a part of “the system”. But being a rugged individualist, The Technician can't stand being treated that way. To The Technician “the system” is dehumanizing, cold, antiseptic, and impersonal. It violates his individuality.

The fact of the matter is that we all have an Entrepreneur, Manager, and Technician inside us. And if they were equally balanced, we'd be describing an incredibly competent individual.

The Entrepreneur would be free to forge ahead into new areas of interest, The Manager would be solidifying the base of operations, and The Technician would be doing the technical work.

Unfortunately out experience shows us that few people who go into business are blessed with such a balance. Instead, the typical small business owner is only 10 percent Entrepreneur, 20 percent Manager, and 70 percent Technician.

If it's that within each businessperson there are three personalities, rather than just one, can you imagine what a mess that makes? If one of you wants this, and another of you wants that, and a third wants something entirely different, can you imagine the confusion that causes in our lives? And it's not only the personalities inside each of one of us that confuse us but all the others we come in to contact with as well: in our customers, in our parents, in our friends, in our spouses, in our lovers. If this is true, and all you need to do is discover whether it is or not is to take a look at yourself from day to day, as though from above, as though from someone else, to observe yourself as you go through the day you would see the different parts come out. You would see them playing their respective games. You would see how they fight for their own space and the sapce of all the others and sabotage each other as best they can. In your business you would see how one part of you craves a sense of order, while another part of you dreams about the future. You would see how another part of you can't stand being idle, and jumps in to bake, and to clean up, and to wait on customers, the part of you who feels guilty if she isn't doing something all the time.

In short you would see how the Entrepreneur in you dreams and schemes, The Manager in you is constantly attempting to keep things as they are, and The Technician in you drives the other two crazy. You would see that it not only matters that your personalities are not in a balanced relationship with each other but that your life depends on gaining that balance. That until you do, it's a war! And it's a war no one can win.

You would also see that on of your personalities is the strongest of the three (or four, or five, or six), and that she walways manages to control the others. In fact, if you watch long enough, you'll being to understand how devastating the tyranny of your strongest personality is to your life. And you'll see that without balance, without all three of these personalities being given the opportunitiy, the freedom, the nourishment they each need to grow, your business cannot help but mirror your own lopsidedness.

So it is that an entrepreneurial business, without a Manager to give it order and without a Technician to put it to work, is doomed to suffer an early, and probably very dramatic, death. And what a Manager-driven business, without an Entrepreneur or a Technician to play their absolutely critical roles, will put things into little gray boxes over and over again, only to realize too late that there's no reason for the things or the boxes she put them into! Such a business will die very neatly.

And that in the Technician driven business, without the Entrepreneur to lead her and The Manager to supervise her, The Technician will work until she drops, only to wake up the next morning to go to work even harder, and the next, and the next. Only to discover, long after it's too late, that while she was working someone moved a freeway through the store!

An entrepreneur does the work of envisioning the business as something apart from you, the owner. The work of asking all the right questions about why this business, as opposed to that business? Why a pie baking business rather than a body shop? If you are a baker of pies, it's easy for you to decide to open up a pie baking business. But that's just the point. If you are a baker of pies and are determined to do entrepreneurial work, you would leave your pie baking experience behind you and engage in the internal dialogue with which every truly entrepreneurial personality is wonderfully familiar.

You would begin to say to yourself, it's time for me to create a new life. It's time for me to challenge my imagination and to begin the process of shaping an entirely new life. And the best way to do that anywhere in this whole wide opportunity filled world is to create an exciting new business. One that can give me everything I want, one that doesn't require me to be there all the time, one that has the potential to be stunningly unique, one that people will talk about long after having shopping in it the very first time, and as a result of that delightful experience, will come back to shop there again because it has such a special flavour to it. I wonder what that business would be?

So the work of an Entrepreneur is to wonder, to imagine and to dream. To see with as much of herself as she can muster the possibilities that waft about in midair someplace there above her head and within her heart. Not in the past but in the future. That's the work the entrepreneurial personality does at the outset of her business and at each and every stage along the way. I wonder. I wonder. Just as every inventor must. Just as every composer must. Just as every artist, or every craftsperson, or every physicist must. Just as every baker of pies must. I call it Future Work. I wonder is the true work of the entrepreneurial personality.

CHAPTER 3: INFANCY: THE TECHNICIAN'S PHASE

It is self evident that businesses, like people, are supposed to grow and with growth comes change.

Unfortunately most businesses are not run according to principle. Instead most businesses are operated according to what the owner wants as opposed to what the business needs.

And what the Technician who runs the company wants is not growth or change but exactly the opposite. He wants a place to go to work, free to do what he wants, when he wants, free from the contrainsts of working for The Boss. Unfortunately, what The Technician wants dooms his business before it even begins.

To understand why, let's take a look at the three phases of business's growth: Infancy, Adolescence, and Maturity.

Understanding each phase, and what goes on in the business owner's mind during each of them, is critical to discovering why most small businesses don't thrive and ensuring that yours does.

The boss is dead and you, The Technician are free at last. Finally you can do your own thing in your own business. Hope runs high. The air is electric with possibility. It's like being let out of school for the summer. Your newfound freedom is intoxicating.

In the beginning nothing is too much for your business to ask. As The Technician, you're accustomed to "paying your dues" So the hours devoted to the business during Infancy are not spend grudgingly but optimistically. There's work to be done and that's what you're all about. After all your middle name is Work.

And so you work. Ten, twelve, fourteen hours a day. Seven days a week. Even when you're at home, you're at work. All your thoughts, all your feelings, revolve around your new business. You can't get it out of your mind. You're consumed by it, totally invested in doing whatever is necessary to keep it alive. But now you're doing not only the work you know how to do but the work you don't know how to do as well .You're not only making it but you're also buying it, selling it, and shipping it. During Infancy, you're a Master Juggler, keeping all the balls in the air.

It's easy to spot a business in Infancy, the owner and the business are one and the same thing.

If you removed the owner from an Infancy business, there would be no business left.

It's even named after you Joe's Place, Tommy's Joint, Mary's Fine Foods so the customer won't forget you're The Boss.

And soon if you're lucky all of the sweat, worry and work begin to pay off. You're good. You work hard. The customers don't forget. They're coming back. They're sending in friends. Their friends have friends. They're all about Joe, Tommy and Mary. They're all talking about you.

If you can believe what your customers are saying, there's never been anyone like Joe, Tommy, and Mary. Joe, Tommy, and Mary are just like old friends. They work hard for their money. And they do good work. Joe is the best barber I ever went to. Tommy is the best printer I ever used. Mary makes the best corned beef sandwich I ever ate. Your customers are crazy about you. They keep coming, in droves.

And you love it!

But then it changes. Subtly at first, but gradually it becomes obvious. You're falling behind. There's more work to do than you can possibly get done. The customers are relentless. They want you they need you. You've spoiled them for anyone else. You're working at breakneck speed.

And then the inevitable happens. You, the Master Juggler, begin to drop some of the balls!

It can't be helped. No matter how hard you try, you simply can't catch them all. Your entusiasm for working with the customer wanes. Deliveries, once early are now late. The product begins to show the wear and tear. Nothing seems to work the way it did at first.

Joe's haircuts don't look the way they used to. "I said short in the back, not on the sides" "My name's Fred, that's my brother and I never had a crewcut!". Glitches start showing up in Tommy's printing, typos, ink smudges, wrong colors, wrong paper. "I didn't order business cards, I ordered catalog covers" "Pink? I said brown!"

Mary's best tasting biggest stack of corned beef in the world suddenly looks like pastrami? Another irritated voice calls out: "Where's my pastrami sandwich? This is corned beef!" And yet another "What are these garbanzo beans doing in my meatloaf?"

What do you do? You stretch. You work harder. You put in more time, more energy.

If you put in twelve hours before, you now put in fourteen.

If you put in fourteen hours before, you now put in sixteen.

If you put in sixteen hours before, now you put in twenty. But the balls keep dropping!

All of a sudden, Joe, Tommy, and Mary wish their names weren't on the sign.

All of a sudden, they want to hide.

All of a sudden, you find yourself at the end of an unbelievably hectic week, late on a Saturday night, poring over the books, trying to make some sense out of the mess, thinking about all of the work you didn't get done this week, and all of the work waiting for you next week. And you suddenly realize it simply isn't going to get done. There's simply no way in the world you can do all that work yourself! In a flash, you realize that you business has become The Boss you thought you left behind. There's not getting rid of The Boss!

Infancy ends when the owner realizes that the business cannot continue to run the way it has been, that in order for it to survive, it will have to change. What that happens when the reality sinks in, most business failures occur. When that happens, most of The Technicians lock their doors behind them and walk away.

The rest go on to Adolescence.

When a Technician turned business owner is suddenly confronted with the reality of her situation, a sense of hopelessness can set in. The challenge can seem overwhelming.

There's nothing wrong with being A Technician. There's only something wrong with being a A Technician who also owns a business! Because as a Technician turned business owner, your focus is upside down. You see the world from the bottom up rather than from the top down. You have a tactical view rather than a strategic view. You see the work that has to get done, and because of the way you're built, you immediately jump to do it! You believe that a business is nothing more than an aggregate of the various types of work done in it, when in fact it is much more than that.

If you want to work in a business, get a job in somebody else's business! But don't go to work in your own. Because while you're working, while you're answering the telephone, while you're baking pies, while you're cleaning the windows and the floors, while you're doing it, doing it, doing it, there's something much more important that isn't getting done. And it's the work you're not doing, the strategic work, the entrepreneurial work, that will lead your business forward, that will give you the life you've not known yet.

There's nothing wrong with technical work, it is, it can be, pure joy. It's only a problem when The Technician consumes all the other personalities. When The Technician fills your day with work. When The Technician avoids the challenge of learning how to grow a business. When The Technician shrinks from the entrepreneurial role so necessary to the lifeblood, the momentum, of a truly extraordinary small business, and from the managerial role so critical to the operational balance or grounding of a small business on a day to day basis. To be a great Technician is simply insufficient to the task of building a great small business.

If your business depends on you, you don't own a business you have a job. And it's the worst job in the world because you're working for a lunatic! The purpose of going into business is to get free of a job so you can create jobs for other people.

The purpose of going into business is to expand beyond your existing horizons. So you can invent something that satisfies a need in the marketplace that has never been satisfied before. So you can live an expanded, stimulating new life. You can't have a business and just expect to do the technical work. You can't have your cake and eat it too. You can't ignore the financial accountabilities, the marketing accountabilities, the sales and administrative accountabilities. You can't ignore your future employees' need for leadership, for purpose, for responsible management, for effective communication, for something more than just a job in which their sol purpose is to support you doing your job. Let alone what your business needs from you if it's to thrive: that you understand the way a business works, that you understand the dynamics of a business, cash flow, growth, customer sensitivity, competitive sensitivity, and so forth.

If all you want from a business of your own is the opportunity to do what you did before you started your business, get paid more for it, and have more freedom to come and go, your greed - I know that soudns harsh but that's what it is your self-indulgence will eventually consume both you and your business. The exciting thing is that once you let go of your Technician side, once you make room for the rest of you to flourish, the game becomes more rewarding than you can possibly imagine at this point in your business's life.

CHAPTER 4: ADOLESCENCE GETTING SOME HELP

Adolescence begins at the point in the life of your business when you decide to get some help.

There's no telling how soon this will happen. But it always happens, precipitated by a criss in the Infancy stage.

Every business that lasts must grow in to the Adolescent phase. Every small business owner who survives seeks help.

What kind of help do you, the overloaded Technician, go out to get? The answer is as easy as it is inevitable: technical help. Someone with experience. Someone with experience in your kind of business.

When things get crazy at your business and you run around like a lunatic/mad man. You're hopelessly, helplessly at a loss. For you to behave differently you would need to awaken the personalities who have been asleep within you for a long time- The Entrepreneur and The Manager - and then help them to developer the skills only they can add to you business.

But The Technician in you won't stop long enough for that to happen.

The Technician in you has got to go to work!

The Technician in you has got to catch the balls!

The Technician in you has got to keep busy. The Technician in you has just reached the limits of his Comfort Zone.

CHAPTER 5: BEYOND THE COMFORT ZONE

Every adolescent business reaches a point where it pushes beyond its owner's

Comfort Zone - the boundary within which he feels secure in his ability to control his environment, and outside of which he begins to lose that control.

The Technician's boundary is determined by how much he can do himself.

The Manager's is defined by how many technicians he can supervise effectively or how many subordinate managers he can organize in a productive effort. The Entrepreneur's boundary is a function of how many managers he can engage in pursuit of his vision.

As a business grows, it invariably exceeds its owner's ability to control it - to touch, feel, and see the work that needs to be done, and to inspect its progress personally as every technician needs to do.

As the business grows beyond the owner's Comfort Zone as the tailspin accelerates, there are only three courses of action to be taken, only three ways the business can turn. It can return to Infancy. It can go for broke. Or it can hang on for dear life. Let's take a look at each.

Getting Small Again.

One of the most consistent predictable reactions of The Technician turned business owner to Adolescent chaos is the decision to "get small" again. If you can't control the chaos, get rid of it.

Go back to the way is it used to be when you did everything yourself, when you didn't have people to about, or too many customers, or too many unpayable payables and unreceivable receivables or too much inventory.

In short, go back to the time when business was simple, back to Infancy. And thousands upon thousands of technicians do just that. They get rid of their people, get rid of their inventory, wrap up their payables in a large bag, rent a smaller facility, put the machine in the middle, put the telephone by the machine, and go back to doing it all by themselves again.

They go back to being the owner, sole properietor, chief cook and bottle washer, doing everything that needs to be done, all alone, but comfortable with the feeling of regained control.

And all of a sudden you are struck with the reality of your condition. You realized something you've avoided all these years. You come fact to face with the unavoidable truth: You don't own a business, you own a job! What's more, it's the worst job in the world! You can't close it when you want to, because when you leave there's nobody there to do the work.

You can't sell it when you want to, because who wants to buy a job?

Your dream is gone, the only thing left is work. The day-to-day grind of purposeless activity.

Finally, you close the doors. There's nothing to keep you there anymore.

According to the Small Business Administration, more than 600,000 such businesses close their doors in the United States every year.

The true question is not how small a business should be but how big. How big can your business naturally become, with the operative word being naturally?

Because whatever that size is, any limitation you place on its growth is unnatural, shaped not by the market or by your lack of capital even though that may play a part but by your own personal limitations. Your lack of skill, knowledge, and experience, and most of all, passion for growing a healthy functionally dynamic extraordinary business.

In this regard getting small is, rather than an intentional act, a reaction to the pain and fear induced by uncontrolled and uncontrollable growth, both of which could have been aniticipated provided the owner had been prepared to facilitate the growth in a balanced, healthy, proactive way.

So if the natural disposition of every business is to either grow or contract, and it is, there is no denying that then 'getting small again' is the natural inclination of the Technician turned owner to shrink from the unknown, to shrink from the business she has created, to contrain the business from creating demands on her to which she feels hopelessly inadequate to respond appropriately. In short businesses that get small again die. They literally implode upon themselves.

Your job is to prepare yourself and your business for growth.

To educate yourself sufficiently so that, as your business grows the business's foundation and structure can carry the additional weight. And as awesome a responsibility as that may seem to you, you have no other choice, if your business is to thrive that is.

It's up to you to dictate your business's rate of growth as best you can by understanding the key processes that need to be performed, the key objectives that need to be achieved, the key position you are aiming your business to hold in the marketplace.

By asking the right questions, such as: Where do I wish to be? When do I wish to be there? How much capital will that take? How many people, doing what work, and how? What technology will be required? How large a space will be needed, at Benchmark One, at Benchmark Two, at Benchmark Three? Will you be wrong at times? Will you make mistakes? Will you change your mind? Of course you will! More often than not. But, done right, you will also have contingency plans in place. Best case, worst case. And somtimes you will simply fly by the seat of your pants, you will go with the flow, follow your intuition.

But all the while even while you're guessing, the key is to plan, envision, and articulate what you see in the future both for yourself and for your employees.

Because if you don't articulate it, I mean, write it down clearly, so others can understand it, you don't own it! And do you know that in all the years I've been doing this work with small business owners, out of the thousands upon thousands we've met, there have only been a few who had any plan at all!

Nothing written, nothing committed to paper, nothing concrete at all.

Any plan is better than no plan, because in the process of defining the future, the plan begins to shape itself to reality, both the reality of the world out there and the reality you are able to create in here.

And as those two realities merge, they form a new reality, call it your reality, call it the unique invention that is uniquely yours, the reality of your mind and your heart uniting with all the elements of your business, and your business with the world, shaping, designing, collaborating, to form something that never existed before in exactly that way.

And that is the sign of a Mature company. A Mature company is started differently than all the rest. A Mature company is founded on a broader perspective, an entrepreneurial perspective, a more intelligent point of view. About building a busienss that works not because of you but without you.

CHAPTER 6: MATURITY AND THE ENTREPRENEURIAL PERSPECTIVE

Maturity the third phase of a company's growth is exemplified by the best business in the world. Businesses such as McDonald's, Federal Express and Disney.

A Mature business knows how it got to be where it is and what it must do to get where it wants to go.

Therefore, Maturity is not an ineveitable result of the first two phases. It is not the end product of a serial process beginning with Infancy and moving through Adolescence.

Companies like McDonald's, Federal Express, and Disney didn't end up as Mature companies. They started out that way! The people who started them had a totally different perspective about what a business is and why it works.

The person who launches his business as a Mature company must also go through Infancy and Adolescence. He simply goes through them in an entirely different way.

It's his perspective that makes the difference.

His Entrepreneurial Perspective.

A Technician's Perspective differs from the Entrepreneurial Perspective in the following ways:

1) The Entrepreneurial Perspective asks the question: "How must the business work?" The Technician's Perspective asks "What work has to be done?

2) The Entrepreneurial Perspective sees the business as a system for producing outside results for the customer resulting in profits. The Technician's Perspective sees the business as a place in which people work to produce inside results, for The Technician producing income.

3) The Entrepreneurial Perspective starts with a picture of a well defined future, and then comes back to the present with the intention of changing it to match the vision. The Technician's Perspective starts with the present, and then looks forward to an uncertain future with the hope of keeping it much like the present.

4) The Entrepreneurial Perspective envisions the business in its entirety, from which is derived its parts. The Technician's Perspective envisions the business in parts, from which is constructed the whole.

5) The Entrepreneurial Perspective is an integrated vision of the world. The Technician's Perspective is a fragmented vision of the world.

6) To The Entrepreneur, the present day world is modeled after his vision. To The Technician the future is modeled after the present day world. The Entrepreneurial Perspective adopts a wider, more expansive scale. It views the business as a network of seamlessly integrated components, each contributing to some larger pattern that comes together in such a way as to produce a specifically planned result, a systematic way of doing business.

With the Technician's perspective, however the scale is narrower, more inhibited, confined principally to the work being done.

As a result, The Technician's business becomes increasingly oppresive, less exhilarating, closed off from the larger world outside.

His business is reduced to stes that fail to take him anywhere other than to the next step, itself nothing more than a replica of the one before it.

Routine becomes the order of the day.

Work is done for work's sake alone, forsaking any higher purpose, any meaning for what needs to be done other than the need to just do it. The Technician sees no connection between where his business is doing and where it is now.

Lacking the grander scale and visionary guidance manifest in the

Entrepreneurial Model, The Technician is left to construct a model each step of the way.

But the only model from which to construct it is the model of past experience, the model of work. Exactly the opposite of what he neds if the business is to free him of the work he's grown accustomed to doing.

THE ENTREPRENEURIAL MODEL

The Entrepreneurial Model is a model of a business that fulfills the perceived needs a specific segment of customers in an innovative way.

The Entrepreneurial Model looks at a business as if it were a product, sitting on a shelf and competing for the customer's attention against a whole shelf of compeiting products (or businesses).

Said another way, the Entrepreneurial Model has less to do with what's done in a business and more to do with how it's done. The commodity isn't what's important the it's delivered is.

When the Entrepeneur creates the model, he surveys the world and asks "Where is the opportunity?" Having identified it, he then goes back to the drawing board and constructs a solution to the frustrations he finds among a certain group of customers. A solution in the form of a business that looks and acts in a very specific way, the way the customer needs it to look and act, not The Entrepreneur.

"How will my business look to the customer?" The Entrepreneur asks. "How will my business stand out from all the rest?" Thus, the Entrepreneurial Model does not start with a picture of the business to be created but of the customer for whom the business is to be created. It understands that without a clear picture of that customer, no business can succeed.

The Technician on the other hand, looks inwardly, to define his skills, and only looks outwardly afterward to ask, "How can I sell them?" The resulting business almost inevitably focuses on the thing it sells rather than the way the business goes about it or the customer to who it's to be sold. Such a business is designed to satify The Technician who created it, not the customer.

To The Entrepreneur, the business is the product.

To The Technician, the product is what he delivers to the customer.

To The Technician, the customer is always a problem. Because the customer never seems to want what The Technician has to offer at the price at which he offers it.

To The Entrepreneur, however the customer is always an opportunity. Because The Entrepreneur knows that within the customer is a continuing parade of changing wants begging to be satisfied. All The Entrepreneur has to do is find out what those wants are and what they will be in the future. As a result, the world is a continuing surprise, a treasure hunt to The Entrepreneur.

To The Technician, however the world is a place that never seems to let him do what he wants to do, it rarely applauds his efforts, it rarely appreciates his work, it rarely if ever appreciates him. To The Technician the world always wants something he doesn't know how to give it.

The question then becomes, how can we introduce the entrepreneurial model to

The Technician in such a way that he can understand it and utilize it?

The answer is unfortunately we can't.

The Technician isn't interested.

The Technician has other things to do.

If we are to be succesful at this, what we must do, instead is to give the undeveloped Entrepreneur in each of us the information he needs to grow beyong the limitations of The Technician's Comfort Zone so as to experience a vision of a business that works.

What we must do instead is to provide out inner entrepeneur with a model of a business that works, a model that is so exciting that it stimulates our entrepreneurial personality, out innovative side to break free of The Technician's bonds once and for all.

What we must do, instead is to discover a model that sparks the entrepreneurial imagination in each of us with such a resounding shock that by the time The Technician wakes up to the fact it will be too late, The Entrepreneur will be well on his way.

But at the same time, if the model is to work, if the model is to awaken The Entrepreneur within each of us to begin to rebuild our businesses around the Entrepreneurial Perspective they so desperately need to flourish, The Manager and The Technician need their own models.

Because if the Entrepreneurial drives the business, the Manager must make certain it has the necessary fuel for sustenance, and that the engine and chassis are in a good state of repair.

If The Technician is to be satisfied, on the other hand, there must be a model that provides him with work that satisfied his need for direct interaction with every nut and bolt.

In short, for this business model of ours to work, it must be balanced and inclusive so that The Entrepreneurial, The Manager, and The Technician all find their natural place within it, so that they all find the right work to do.

CHAPTER 6: THE FRANCHISE PROTOTYPE

The success of the Business Format Franchise is withotu question the most important news in business.

Over the course of one year, Business Format Francises have reported a success rate of 95% in contrast to the 50 plus percent failure rate of new independently owned businesses. Where 80% of all businesses fail in the first five years, 75% of all Business Format Franchises suceed! The reason for that success is the Franchise Protoype.

The Franchise Prototype is the place where all assumptions are put to the test to see how well they work before becoming operational in the business. Without it the franchise would be an impossible dream, as chaotic and undisciplined as any business.

The Prototype acts as a buffer between hypothesis and action. Putting ideas to the test in the real world rather than the world of competing ideas. The only criterion of value becomes the answer to the ultimate question "Does it work?". In the Franchise Prototype the system becomes the solution to the problems that have beset all businesses and all human organizations since time immemorial. The system integrates all the elements required to make a business work. It transforms a business into a machine or more accurately because it is so alive, into an organism, driven by the integrity of its parts, all working in concert toward a realized objective. And, with its Prototype as its progenitor, it works like nothing else before it.

At Ray Kroc's McDonald's, every possible detail of the business system was first tested in the Prototype, and then controlled to a degree never before possible in a people intensive business.

The french fries were left in the warming bin for no more than seven minutes to prevent sogginess. A soggy french fry is not a McDonald's french fry. Hamburgers were removed from the hot trays in no more than ten minutes to retain the proper moisture.

The frozen meat patties, precisely identical in size and weight, were turned at exactly the same time on the griddle.

Pickles were placed by hand in a set patter that prevented them from sliding out and landing in the customer's lap.

Food was served to the customer in sixty seconds or less. Discipline, standardization and order were the watchwords. Cleanliness was enforced with meticulous attention to the most seemingly trivial detail.

Ray Kroc was determined that the customer would not equate inexpensive with inattentive or cheap. Nowhere had a business ever paid so much attention to the little things, to the system that guaranteed the customer that her expectations would be fulfilled in exactly the same way every time. The Franchise Prototype is the answer to the perpetual question "How do I give my customer what he wants while maintaining control of the business that's giving it to him?

To The Entrepreneur, the Franchise Prototype is the medium through which his vision takes form in the real world.

To The Manager, the Franchise Prototype provides the order, the predictability, the system so important to his life.

To The Technician, the Prototype is a place in which he is free to do the things he loves to do, technical work.

The Franchise Prototype is the model you've been looking for. The Franchise

Prototype is the model of a business that works. The balanced model that will satisfy The Entrepreneur, The Manager, and The Technician all at once. It is being used at McDonald's, Federal Express, Disney Land etc.

CHAPTER 9: WORKING ON YOUR BUSINESS, NOT IN IT

It is critical that you understand the point I'm about to make. For if you do, neither your business nor your life will ever be the same. The point is: your business is not your life. Your business and your life are two totally seperate things. At its best, your business is something apart from you, rather than a part of you, with its own rules and it own purposes. An organism, you might say, that will live or die according to how well it performs its sole function: to find and keep customers.

Once you recognize that the purpose of your life is not to serve your business, but that the primary purpose of your business is to serve your life, you can then go to work on your business, rather than in it, with a full understanding of why it is absolutely neccessary for you to do so.

Think of your business as something apart from yourself, as a world of its own, as a product of your efforts, as a machine designed to fulfill a very specific need, as a mechanism for giving you more life, as a system of interconnecting parts, as a package of cereal, as a can of beans, as something created to satisfy your consumers deeply held perceived needs, as a place that acts distinctly different from all other places, as a solution to somebody else's problem.

Think of your business as anything but a job!

Go to work on your business rather than in it, and ask yourself the following questions:

How can I get my business to work, but without me?

How can I get my people to work, but without my contanst interference?

How can I systematize my business in such a way that it could be replicated 5000 times, so the 5000th unit would run as smoothly as the first?

How can I own my business, and still be free of it?

How can I spend my time doing the work I love to do rather than the work I have to do?

If you ask yourself these questions, you'll eventually come face to face with the real problem: that you don't know the answers!

And that's been the problem along!

But now it should be different. Because now you know what you don't know.

Now you are ready to look the problem squarely in the face.

The problem isn't your business it never has been.

The problem is you!

It has always been you and will always be you. Until you change, that is.

Until you change your perspective about what a business is and how one works.

Until you begin to think about business in a totally new way.

Until you accept the undeniable fact that business, even a very small business like yours, is both an art and science.

To successfully develop a serious business you need a process, a practice, by which to obtain that information and, once obtained, a method with which to put that information to use in your business productively.

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oikawa13 · 4 years ago

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love in the time of köttbullar

Shouyou sets the bowl on the tiny table with a flourish and an itadakimasu! and this is when it hits Atsumu harder than a Skurup to the temple:He wants this. Shouyou, hip cocked against the miniature kitchen countertop, smiling shyly up at Atsumu through the amber fan of his lashes, beautiful god-boy-man somehow glowing gold even under the buzzy LED lighting. Though they’re standing in a 430,000 square foot warehouse in Tsurumachi, Atsumu’s looking at Shouyou, and he’s home.

Amid the Flärdfull and the Smörboll, Miya Atsumu falls a little more in love.

words: 3,378 | rating: T

i’ve never been inside an ikea so this fic quite literally changed me as a person. sometimes loving a person is as scary as saying that first i love you!!!! and sometimes... love is easy as saying i love you at an ikea ; ;

LAUNCHING MERRILY DOWN THE PATH OF SIN (THE FIRST TIME)

"Bokuto said I should bring you home. But I don’t know where you live. So I took you here.”

“To hell?”

"No, Atsumu-san. To my apartment."

words: 1,990 | rating T

i wake up in the middle of the night thinking about this fic and then go on ao3 to reread it again its just so fdjgfhdjf good. i think about this shoyo a lot. theres something!!!! very dreamy going on here. this is the first part to a series btw, you can read them all if you want since theyre probably all around 1k :-)

lord i no longer believe in anything but the way he holds my name between his teeth

The miracle of the rabbit on the moon.

“We took this photo at their seventh birthday party. His father baked a cake. But someone ate all the jellybeans off the top before they could even sing the birthday song. That’s why Atsumu cried. He used to cry a lot. It stopped when the twins found out about volleyball, but before that Atsumu would cry over everything. Spilled milk. A skinned knee. The neighbor’s dog. He was the twin that was scared of paper straws. It's funny how things have changed.

“He looks happier now. Did you do that?”

words: 10,456 | rating: T

so, this goes just a liiiiitle past 10k so its up to you if you want to read it or not, i just thought i’d include it since its so! close! lol theres this part!!!!! they are holding hands underneath the table!!!!!!!!! atsumu are you drunk?!!! no!!!!! hes just so stupidly in love with shoyo. i cant stand them!!!!!!!!!!!

wait for it, wait for it

The notifications are up at 100+ again and Hana wants to check it quickly to make sure nothing's wrong, especially because she'd just cleared them before the media scrum. The fans, she figured, must be overjoyed with the win.Congratulations MSBY Nation!!! the first reply reads. #myspiker #atsuhinaBoth tags, she finds, are currently trending in Japan.

Five times #atsuhina trended on volleyball Twitter and one time it should have (but luckily didn't), as told by the MSBY Black Jackals' junior publicist

words: 6,043 | rating: T

this fic is SOOOOO much fun!!!!!! also i love hana, idk if i ever mentioned that before but yeah. this is like... hdjkdhgjfd so much ; ; <3

south of an early summer

Warmth, then, was being wanted back. Two weeks later, Atsumu holds that warmth in by Shouyou’s waist; he watches it, how it sleeps, and wonders what the heat will become next.

words: 2,602 | rating T | tw: atsumu being atsumu about (past) kg/hn for a split second

IF i wasnt an absolute fool and gave you all these recommendations to pick and choose from id just send you this and the walking emoji bc honestly!!!!!!!!! i may not know what the heck romantic means but i see this and maybe it is romantic! maybe its not the average romantic idk?!!!! but i do know theres something beautiful here. love ?? ; ;

truths in two’s

Shouyou leaves for Brazil in two hours.

words: 8,300 | rating: T

LDR.... but like, in probably one of the easiest 2 breathe/good feeling fic for ldr!!!! idk im a baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ten reasons to break up with me: a love letter

1. It has to be you, ‘cause I won’t.

words: 4,197 | rating: T

pls....... i cant even THINK about this fic without crying okay!!!!!!!! insane. fuckign!!!! i love it so much, so much. it lives in my heart. this is the fic where i was like... i dont believe in love. yes i do. no<3 YES!!!!!!!! and cried and paced my room and finally FINALLY!!!!!! stopped feeling so hurt about hinata leaving for brazil again lmao!! like, i cant explain. this sounds crazy right???? anyway, i think... atsuhina can love each other so much it hurts when theyre apart but their love is so.... i mean......... they literally waited years to play together... so......... their love keeps them going..... GOODBYE!!!! i love listening to fka twigs cellophane & home with you and just..... being insane.

just can’t help myself

Five times Hinata takes care of Atsumu, and one time Atsumu returns the favor.

words: 5,025 | rating: T

*think about atshn taking care of each other* *cries*

blue crush

And there’s a promise there, sewn into the easy curve of his lips: I’m not going anywhere, Atsumu-san. Glittering eyes that cut through the rain-blurry dark like a beacon when Shouyou turns back to look up at him. Even if you fuck up all of our dates.

Murphy’s Law as demonstrated by Miya Atsumu.

words: 2,297 | rating: T

atsumu trying very hard to have things perfect and romantic and even in the failures its still very lovely<3

If I’m Icarus, You Must be the Sun (Allow me Three Mistakes)

He wonders if Icarus felt like nothing was wrong with self-destructing, because he had reveled in the sun, if only for a little while.

Atsumu finds, loving Hinata is the same.

Atsumu's love over the years, and the mistakes that accompany it.

words: 4,620 | rating: T

i am...very weak to the whole icarus/sun thing with hinata and his ships. this one though......... i think about it A lot.

in your eyes, i see our future

“Yer’ a real sweetheart, Hinata Shouyou.”

Shouyou smiles brilliantly. “Only for you~”

He scoots over so Shouyou can sit next to him. He can smell the pineapple body wash Shouyou is so fond of the moment he sits down. Shouyou passes the tray over carefully before settling against the headboard comfortably.

“What’s the occasion?"

(Or, Atsumu just really wants to marry Shouyou.)

words: 9,769 | rating: T

fhdsjjkjfdsj goes crazy stupid over marriage!!!!! listen... i do not believe in marriage!!!!! but for atsuhina, oh you bet i do!!!! :-)

breathing a hello

There’s no significance to them ending up here except that both of their lives are held in the sway of volleyball. Everything else comes second.That’s the crux of it, really.

words: 2,826 | rating: T

gjhfsjkfd shhhhhhhhh. my heart is very soft when i think of them here, please..... just!!!! pls.

if you’re out there in the cold, i’ll cover you in moonlight

My [23M] best friend and ex-boyfriend [23M] is visiting me for a week, and my current boyfriend [24M] who agreed to all of this is suddenly withdrawing from me. Can I get some advice? Please? Anyone?

words: 8335 | rating: T | chapters: 3 | tw: past kg/hn 😳

this one is optional since you wanted one shots and theres 3 chapters here. my idea of romantic is...well, i especially love when one of them is acting hurtful/mean/difficult to the other bc their own personal issues but the other loves them anyway??? and then they work on that issue!!! just!!!!! ; ;

Love in the Time of Insomnia

And anyway Hinata was sprinting out faithfully after Atsumu, who had keys to the gym like a badass, and who was going to give his spikers a few more tosses after-hours without Meian knowing like the greatest, most generous badass the Jackals had ever seen.

words: 2,457 | rating: G

running four kilometers just so atsumu can rest. this is what romantic means!!!! hdkshjfhdj

ode to what you’d have been

5 times it’s Kageyama’s fault and the 1 time Hinata realizes it has never been.

words: 3,628 | rating: G

loving someone including their flaws PART 2!!!!!! ok.... u might be like... um... this is romantic? hfdkhjfd LISTEN!!!! to me!!! there is nothing more romantic than being in love with someone and the ugly parts of them. going, i love you, all of you. and communication!!! and understanding!!! and feeling terrible and shitty and horrible but having the one you love accept you. and trying to help ease your mind, worries. *sobs real hard* also shout out 2 ‘okaaayy.... i hate sakusa now’

a shrine for a boy

Despite his uncertainty about how to tell Atsumu of his move to São Paulo, Hinata takes action. Things do not go according to plan.

words: 2,447 | rating: G

hinatas time 2 be romantic and fail but its ok bc!!!!!!!!!! :-) they are just dummies in love<3

the greatest distance between you and longing is defeat

(In other words: Atsumu, let go. I’m here now.)

words: 3,310 | rating: G

um... *cries* post break up.... o_o!!!! god they really thought they could????? lmao!!!!!!

the tear in this (our gentle language)

“I’m going back to Brazil.”

He isn’t asking for permission. This isn’t a consultation. Hinata Shouyou informs his boyfriend at their after-practice practice. Miya Atsumu has a volleyball in each arm, trying to pick up a third. It drops and rolls away from him. The thud resounding in an empty gymnasium.

Shouyou had tried to envision Atsumu’s reaction many times. He never expected to be met with silence.

Alternatively: an exploration of Hinata Shouyou’s return to Brazil

words: 7,204 | rating: M

ldr CAN be romantic ok!!!!!!!! it takes a lot of communication, time, and love ; ;

evening sun

Atsumu looks at Shouyou and thinks, I want to know every inch of you.

words: 1,502 rating: M

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novalucitor-blog · 5 years ago

Text

A Change of Fate ch. 9.5

Read the completed Part 1 (20 chapters) on AO3

Read chapter 1 of Part 2 on AO3

Ch.1

The day that Star would leave the Kingdom of the Moon to be married was rapidly approaching. Marco wasn’t sad as he intended to follow. When he left for the ceremony, he’d also be leaving his home as well. Star had requested months before that he move with her and he couldn’t imagine his life without his best friend by his side, so he agreed. However, he hadn’t been able to tell everyone yet that he was leaving.

Oskar knew. He was the first one he’d talked to about it. When he’d asked Star to let him think about the decision, he’d immediately confided in his other friend for advice. Oskar had made him feel better about his decision to leave. He was always so laid back about everything. Marco thought it would be nice to switch spots with him for a day.

When he’d told his parents, they’d been sad and his dad wasn’t sure about losing one of his best knights, but they knew they couldn’t change his mind. Star had been ecstatic when he’d told her, though she was still plotting to stop the move and marriage all together.

The only person he still needed to tell was Owen.

Marco had been training to be a knight since he was very young. When he was fifteen, he was finally permitted to join the knight guard. He’d spent years watching training with Star in secret and practicing what he saw in his spare time. Star still watched from the shadows when she could sneak away, but now he was a part of it all.

Owen had enlisted two years later when they were seventeen. For the first year, they didn’t talk. The rest of the knight guard had ignored Marco and talked about him behind his back. They thought nepotism was a given between Marco and his dad. If only they knew how hard he was pushed outside of training to be the best. He ran drills by himself late at night. Star would pretend to be in danger and Marco would rush to save her, fighting off training dummies she’d spelled to move around. They didn’t fight back but they did move erratically and unpredictably. It was all of this extra training that made him stronger and more agile.

Still, the others didn’t know about that and hated him for the praise he received. It didn’t help that his best friend was princess of the kingdom, one day to be queen. They believed that Marco had been given the role of right-hand knight and her protector because of their friendship. It’s true that Star had requested him, but he would not have won the spot had he not impressed his father and her parents in the trials they held for every enlisted knight.

Marco had no friends on the guard until a fateful night, when Marco had been caught training. Star had been caught sneaking out, so he was left to train alone. He set up the training dummies in an obstacle course of sorts. It wasn’t as helpful when they didn’t move, but it was still worth doing. He was so distracted by his movements and trying to get to the other side, that he didn’t even notice he was being watched.

Once he emerged from the other side, tired, sweaty and breathless, he heard the clapping. He looked in the direction the sound came from and there was Owen. Marco wasn’t sure if he was genuinely clapping for his performance or doing so sarcastically. Owen approached and Marco prepared to defend himself if necessary.

“So, this is where you are every night.” He said, seeming friendly.

“Where else would I be?” Marco asked, sheathing his sword and pushing his sweaty bangs from his face.

“Every night we play card games and drink at a local pub. You haven’t come once since I joined the guard.”

“I haven’t exactly been invited.”

“Yea, I thought that might be the case.” Owen looked away, looking embarrassed. “The others don’t seem to like you.”

Marco shrugged. He really didn’t care at this point. It had been nearly three years and he had always been ignored and looked down upon.

“Anyway…I thought maybe you were hanging out with the princess while we were out drinking. That must be cool. Being best friends with a princess, I mean.”

“It’s no different than being friends with anyone else.”

“But doesn’t she like, order you around and buy you expensive things?”

“No and I wouldn’t ask her for anything.”

“Not even on your birthday?”

“On my birthday she takes a day off from classes and I’m excused from training. We spend the day together and she tries to bake a cake.”

“Oh…then are you two…together?”

Marco almost laughed. “No. She’s more like my sister at this point. We grew up together.”

Owen nodded and the air fell silent between them. Marco felt awkward, unsure of what his intensions were. Trying to ignore it, he began cleaning up the practice dummies. He was surprised when Owen rushed to help.

“So, do you train by yourself every night?” He asked as they moved the dummies back where they belonged.

“Pretty much.”

“Everyone else keeps telling me you slack off, but I’ve never seen it. And now I find out you train like this by yourself! Why don’t you just tell them about all of this?”

Marco scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What good would it do? They’d just accuse me of lying. They need someone to hate, let it be me. I don’t care. As long as we’re a team in a battle, it doesn’t matter.”

“Would they come together in a battle though? I’m not so sure.”

“They would. They have. I mean, it wasn’t really a battle. A few drunks were angry about some tax and were causing a disturbance in town. A group of us were sent to assess the situation. There’s no need to use force in such a situation and you know we’re not trained to draw our swords unless the person is armed. One of them had a dagger hidden in his boot. He drew it and grabbed me around the neck when my back was turned. The others immediately went into action and I believe they saved my life that night.” Marco sighed as he put the last training dummy away. “So, they can talk all they want during training because I know they have my back when necessary. Of course, it wouldn’t look good on them if the head of the guard went out for the routine call and came back wounded or dead.” He smiled grimly. He honestly didn’t even want to think about that, but it always came to mind when he talked about that night.

“Well, I think they protected you because you’re a knight, not because of who your dad is.”

Marco didn’t really want to answer. He barely knew this guy and he wasn’t willing to appear vulnerable in front of him. He gathered his things and quickly changed the subject.

“If you ever want extra training, I could use a sparing partner.” He said, as he began to walk away.

“Tomorrow?” Owen called after him.

“Sure.” Marco called over his shoulder as he left the training grounds and headed home.

The following night, Owen had shown up again with his gear, ready to train. Marco hadn’t expected him to actually show as he was obviously inebriated the night before. They spared for hours and Owen managed to get Marco to talk about himself some more. During the day they kept their distance, though that was Marco’s advice lest he be ostracized as well. Star had been watched closely ever since she was caught sneaking out. Every night Owen kept coming back. They’d train until they were exhausted and then talk until they were falling asleep and had to go to bed. It was a secret friendship as no one else knew of their nightly training sessions. As far as Star knew, it was still just Marco out there alone in the dark training.

After around a month of their nightly meetings, and after they’d come to know each other quite well, the other knights became impatient. It was at the end of training for the day when a few of the others confronted Owen.

“I was going to ask if you were coming drinking with us tonight, but I’m guessing the answer is no again.” Duke, one of the rudest and most obnoxious of them, said.

“Sorry. I have plans.” Owen responded, shrugging.

“Alright, enough already. Where are you sneaking off to every night?”

“I’ve…met someone?” Owen said, wincing seemingly at his own choice of words.

“You’ve got a girl?”

“Yes. That. I’ve met a girl. I spend my nights with her.”

The others seemed oddly impressed with this news. Marco rolled his eyes at the ridiculous lie.

“And you meet with her every night? She must be extremely loose.” One of the others laughed.

“No. I honestly don’t even know how she feels about me. I just like being with her.” Owen said, unembarrassed.

Marco, however, was embarrassed. Why would he admit something he didn’t have to? There was no girl, so why didn’t he lie and say he was getting some every night so the others would look up to him? Though Marco never understood why that was a thing that happened.

“Why don’t you just bring her to the pub so we can all meet her?” One of them nudged Owen’s side with his elbow as he spoke.

“No way. You’d all just try to steal her away. I want her to myself.”

With that, Marco left the training grounds, not wanting to hear anymore. He’d thought for a while now that Owen was attractive, there was no denying that. He also was maybe developing feelings for him that he wasn’t ready to admit to. But what was that conversation about? Was he just lying or was he really talking about Marco?

It wasn’t something he wanted to think about. It would only make him nervous around Owen and if he didn’t have feelings for him, Marco certainly didn’t want him to know how he felt about him. He almost considered skipping their nightly training that night, so he didn’t have to face him.

Deciding that was the coward’s way out, he swallowed his pride and headed to the training grounds. It was already dark out, but Marco could still see the figure of someone up ahead. He took a deep breath and forced himself to continue on. Owen’s face lit up with a smile when he saw him.

“You’re late.” He said, faking anger.

“Sorry. I…was caught in a conversation with my dad.”

“Nothing serious I hope.”

“No, just a friendly discussion.”

They began to set up for a brief training course before sparing. Marco felt extremely awkward and didn’t know how to bring up the conversation organically. He didn’t even know if Own realized he’d overheard.

“So, uh…” Owen started as they were about to begin. “Sorry about earlier.”

“Earlier?” Marco played dumb though his heart had just leapt out of his chest.

“When I said you were a girl. I mean, I didn’t think it would upset you, but you said to keep all of this a secret so…”

Right. That’s why he’d said those things. “It doesn’t bother me. Tell them whatever you want. Though they’ll probably expect an update on how far you got with this fictitious girl.”

“I was hoping to have an update for them tomorrow.”

“What are you-?” Before Marco could finish the question, Owen leaned forward and kissed him.

Marco could have sworn his heart stopped for a full minute. After the kiss, he wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never been kissed before. He didn’t like girls and there had never been a guy that he liked enough to pursue. But now, he was the one being pursued, and he was dumbfounded.

“I don’t know if this was obvious before, but I’ve liked you for a while.” Owen said, his cheeks red with blush.

“Nope. Not obvious at all.” Marco said, still in shock.

“You…you do like guys, right? I mean, every time I mentioned girls you looked bored and you blushed every time I took my shirt off. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

“Nope. You weren’t wrong. Just…um…didn’t realize I was that obvious.” Marco turned away, unable to catch his breath.

“So, you like me too right?”

This was it. He’d already admitted he liked guys but now he had to admit that he liked Owen. Though Owen had already admitted to liking him, so what could go wrong??

“Yes.” Marco said, still unable to turn to face him.

“Great!” Owen said, grabbing Marco by the shoulder and turning him to face him again. “Then training first, kissing after?” He asked.

Marco’s face was so hot with blush that he felt like he might pass out. He nodded his head and watched as Owen disappeared into the course they’d built. Marco barely made it through the course and when sparing, he kept making stupid mistakes. He was too distracted by what had happened and the way Owen looked at him made him nervous.

When they were done with their training routine, they cleaned up the course as they always did. It was after that, that they would always talk. Marco wasn’t sure his heart was prepared for what Owen had planned tonight. After the last training dummy was put away, Owen turned to Marco with a big grin.

Without skipping a beat, he closed the space between them and kissed Marco. He knew he shouldn’t feel shocked again, but he couldn’t help it. He closed his eyes to try and relax. He focused on the way Owen’s hands felt. One cupped his cheeks gently while the other snaked around to lay on the small of his back. His lips were soft and moist as they glided against Marco’s with every kiss.

Marco didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they awkwardly hung onto Owen’s arms. They continued this way until neither could breathe. They lay in the grass to catch their breaths and stared up at the stars in silence. Owen reached out and grabbed Marco’s hand in his.

Their relationship continued like this, though Marco became more comfortable, less awkward and more confident with their relationship. He began to initiate kisses and flirted relentlessly with each other when they were alone. Owen talked with the others about his “girlfriend”, making Marco leave the grounds blushing every time. The first time Owen had slipped his tongue into Marco’s mouth had been strange but now he loved it. The first time they’d jerked each other off had been awkward but wonderful at the same time.

Finding their relationship progressing physically, they thought it best to find a place indoors to meet after their private training so they wouldn’t be seen even in the dark. Just beyond the wall of the training grounds was a small building that used to be used by gardeners but had since been abandoned. Inside were old broken tools and dirt. They found a tarp that they laid over a mound of dirt where they could enjoy each other’s touch comfortably and privately.

Their first time had been unexpected. After training, as always, they headed to the old shed. Their kisses started innocent between exchanged words, but soon the talking stopped. Marco buried his hand in Owen’s hair as their tongues tangled together. He’d become so used to this, it was like breathing. Owen pulled his mouth away from Marco’s and began kissing a trail down his jawline to his neck while his hand moved to palm Marco’s enclosed erection.

Marco gasped and bucked his hips toward his touch. Owen chuckled and applied more pressure as he sucked a bruise onto his skin just below his collarbone where it would be hidden. He leaned back to stare at Marco’s face while his hand found the waistband of Marco’s pants and slipped inside. Marco whimpered as he stroked his dick with hot fingers.

Owen always liked to watch Marco’s face during these intimate times, though it made Marco self-conscious. He could feel the way his mouth twisted and opened and closed like a fish as he gasped and moaned. Marco wished he didn’t watch to intently. He tried to cover his face with the hand that wasn’t gripping Owen’s arm tightly making him chuckle. Owen leaned in until his lips were touching Marco’s ear.

“I want to do more with you tonight than just touching.” He whispered, making Marco shiver.

“I’ve never…” Marco began, stopping to gasp as Owen’s thumb pressed along the head of his dick as he swept his hand back down the shaft.

“I have. I know what to do if you’ll trust me.”

Marco thought about it for a moment. He was coming to love Owen and he enjoyed the feel of his hands and body so much that he couldn’t think of a reason to say no. And he did trust him. Maybe more than anyone, even Star.

Owen pulled his hand from Marco’s pants and turned to his discarded jacket. From his pocket he provided a small vial of oil and a cloth, probably meant for cleaning up afterward. He set these items aside and began to strip his own clothes off, encouraging Marco to do the same. They’d never been completely naked in front of each other before and Marco suddenly felt nervous. Jerking each other off was one thing, but this was so much more.

“Are you ok with receiving?” Owen asked, his cheeks red.

“I…I guess so. I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Owen leaned forward and kissed him quickly before pulling back and smiling.

“Lay back and get comfortable.” He instructed and Marco did as he was told. Owen reached for the vial of oil again and poured a generous amount on two of his fingers. He lifted Marco’s leg and placed it on the other side of his lap, leaving his ass cheeks spread open and exposed. Marco tilted his head back and closed his eyes, too embarrassed to watch.

Owen gently placed a greased finger to Marco’s hole and began messaging the outside in a circular motion. Marco squirmed. It felt weird. Not quite sexual just…strange. Owen gradually began to apply pressure until his finger popped inside the tight ring of muscle. Marco gasped at this. He’d never even played with himself like this before. It was strange, a little uncomfortable but not painful. Owen continued to press in to his second knuckle, carefully wiggling his finger around in the process.

“You doing ok?” He asked.

“It’s…strange.” Marco gasped.

Owen continued like this for what felt like forever before deciding he’d become soft enough to add another finger. This was painful. As his second finger slid in past the first, he winced. He already felt too full and the feeling wasn’t pleasurable at all. Owen wriggled his fingers around and massaged his inner walls, trying to make them soft and stretched enough to take him. Marco’s dick was beginning to go soft and Owen took notice. With his other hand, he grabbed hold of his wilting erection and began to pump his fist and swiping his hand over the head in an attempt to make Marco feel good again.

Marco felt an odd mix of pleasure from his groin and discomfort in his ass. Owen pushed on and began searching for the spot inside Marco that he knew would make him see stars. He curled his fingers and bumped the bundle of nerves he’d been looking for. Marco shuddered and gasped.

“What was that?” He asked, breathless.

“Did it feel good?” Owen asked.

“I don’t know…it’s weird.”

Owen pressed into it again and Marco squirmed. He began running his fingers over the spot in circles making Marco whine in pleasure. Owen seemed pleased with his reactions and removed his fingers.

“Do you think we can move on?” he asked, taking the vial of oil again.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Marco panted, reaching for the vial.

Owen handed him the oil and he opened the vial, pouring more than he probably needed onto the palm of his hand. Sitting up, he grabbed hold of Owen’s dick with his oil covered hand and began to slowly pump, coating him from head to base with the oil. Owen moaned, enjoying the feeling of his lover touching him for the first time that evening.

Thinking he’d deposited enough oil, Marco let go and laid back down on the tarp, wiping the excess on the fabric next to him. Owen crawled closer, until his pelvis was close to Marco’s ass. He took his dick in one hand and positioned it against his hole.

“You ready?” He asked.

“I guess so.” Marco responded, really unsure if he could handle it.

Owen grabbed Marco’s hip with his other hand and began to press into him. The tip of his head already stung, and Marco knew it would only get worse. He continued to press forward until his head popped in completely. Marco gasped and grabbed two fistfuls of the tarp beneath him. It was painful and his back arched up in an attempt to ease the pain.

“Shhh, it’s ok. I won’t move.” Owen soothed, rubbing one hand up and down Marco’s thigh and the other grabbing Marco’s dick and beginning to pump to bring back the pleasure.

Marco gasped and tears sprang to his eyes as he tried to blink them away. After a few minutes the pain ebbed to a dull throb as the pleasure in his groin began to take over again. He relaxed back onto the tarp and took deep breaths, interspersed with moans from the stimulation in the front.

“I’m ok.” Marco said, sighing and trying not to tense his muscles at all.

Owen continued pumping Marco while he slowly began to push in again. Marco winced, but it didn’t hurt as much this time. When he finally stopped, Marco sighed and tried to look down at where they were connected.

“Are you ok?” Owen asked, a shudder rippling through his body.

“I think so. It doesn’t really hurt anymore.” Marco said, flinching from Owen’s continued friction on his front.

“I’ll move slow but tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

Marco nodded in agreement and Owen began to pull back out. Marco closed his eyes as Owen started a slow, easy pace. It felt strange. Not really painful, but not pleasurable either. When Marco showed no signs of discomfort, Owen gradually began to quicken his pace, pumping in and out of Marco.

Marco squirmed when Owen let go of his dick to hold his hips instead. He reached down and began jerking his own dick. Owen angled his hips a little differently, and when he thrusted again, Marco cried out. Owen stopped moving with much difficulty.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, breathless.

“No…it’s that spot again…the good spot…ugh do that again please.” Marco whined.

Owen began moving again, trying to hit that spot as often as possible. Every time his dick rubbed up against it, Marco moaned loudly and arched his back. Owen lost himself in the pleasure and began thrusting quickly. Marco didn’t mind, thankfully not feeling any pain now. All he felt was pleasure as Owen continued to rub against that spot and he masturbated furiously. The two became a mess of heavy breathing and moans as they were racked with pleasure.

“I’m not…gonna last.” Owen gasped.

“Umph…” was all Marco managed in response.

Owen’s entire body went rigged as he came inside of Marco, his hips jerking slightly with each burst. When he was spent, he pulled out and took Marco’s swollen dick into his mouth and pushed his fingers back inside of him to press on that little switch. Marco cried out in pleasure and threw his head back as he came into Owen’s mouth.

Owen withdrew and spit the cum onto the floor. Using the cloth he’d brought, he cleaned the remaining oil and a bit of blood from his dick before wiping up the cum that had leaked from Marco’s ass. Throwing the cloth aside, he collapsed beside Marco.

“That hurt more than I thought it would.” Marco said, staring at the ceiling and panting.

“Sorry. If I could use magic, I’d have made it painless. You may want to skip training tomorrow.” Owen said, reaching out and cupping Marco’s cheek in his hand, turning his face towards him.

“I’ll just tell my dad that I’m ill. I don’t think rigorous anal sex is something he’d accept as an excuse.”

Owen chuckled and leaned forward to kiss him. For the moment, the two of them were happy. As promised, Marco skipped training the next day. Every step he took caused uncomfortable friction in his ass that made him wince. All he wanted to do was lay in bed, on his stomach with a large bag of ice sitting on his posterior.

Their relationship continued without incident. They kept it a secret from everyone, only meeting in the night. When Star was able to help Marco train, Owen would keep his distance. Marco felt bad not telling her, but she didn’t even know he was gay, and she had enough on her mind with her engagement. Still, it was becoming hard to keep in a secret. Marco was in love and he wanted to talk about it.

Star sat in the grass beside Marco, ranting about a fight she had with her mother. This was a normal occurrence lately as Star did everything in her power to convince her parents to change their minds about her marriage.

“Ugh, it’s just so frustrating! I don’t want to go, why can’t she see that?” She growled, ripping a handful of grass from beneath her fingers. “I need a distraction. How was training today?”

“It was good. I…I’ve been distracted though.”

“You? About what?”

“I’ve just been wanting to tell you about something…I haven’t been sure how to bring it up though. It’s about…about love.”

“Love?” Star asked before standing abruptly. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try and sway me saying that he loves me because I’ve heard it all before! I just never thought I’d hear it from you.”

“No, Star, that’s not what I was going to-.”

“You know better than anyone how much I hate him. I don’t care if he loves me, I do not and will not ever love him.”

“I know Star.”

“Good. I have to get back before they realize I’m gone. I’ll try to sneak out again tomorrow. Night!” She dashed away back toward the castle and Marco was left alone in the grass.

He’d tried to tell her, he really had. Maybe it was for the best. They’d be leaving soon anyway and it’s not like Owen could go with them. He may never see him again at this rate and he hadn’t even told him about it yet.

The following night, Star didn’t meet Marco like she’d planned. Instead, Owen was the one to emerge from the shadows. He was smiling, until he saw the conflicted look on Marco’s face. Setting down his equipment, he made his way to his lover and cupped his face between his hands.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing I…it’s nothing.” Marco lied.

“We’ve been together a long time now. I know when you’re upset and when you’re lying to me. Spill it.”

“I…tried to tell Star about us.”

“Oh. How did that go?”

“I couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let me finish what I was saying.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get another chance. You two are almost always together. Until she leaves anyway.”

This was his chance and he immediately felt sick to his stomach.

“About that. Star asked me to come with her to the Kingdom of Fire and I…I said yes.” Marco couldn’t look at him, so he didn’t know what kind of face he was making.

“Oh. You mean, for good?”

“Looks that way.”

“Doesn’t she leave in a month?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known?”

“A few weeks.”

Owen sighed and Marco finally looked at him. He seemed angry but also hurt.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asked, anger evident in his voice.

“I didn’t know how to.”

“So, I guess this is over then.”

“What? No.”

“But you’re leaving. It’s not like it’s close by either. It takes nearly an entire day to get there. What excuse can I give to go to the Kingdom of Fire that often?”

“I don’t know but I don’t want this to be over.”

The two fell into silence. It was ridiculous and Marco knew it. He was being selfish and unrealistic in his expectation of what their relationship could handle. They saw each other every morning during training and almost every night during their own private training. Suddenly ending that would surely cause them to splinter, but he didn’t want that.

“Can’t you tell her no?” Owen asked, sounding defeated.

“I can’t. She needs me.”

“I need you!”

“You have friends here! She doesn’t! I’m all she has. I can’t abandon her now when her life is being turned upside down.”

“She’s always going to come first, isn’t she?”

“I…” Marco didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. I love you but she’s family.”

Owen sighed and Marco now saw the tears on his cheeks, barely visible in the moonlight. It made him want to cry himself, but he tried to hold it back.

“Please don’t leave.” He said, pulling Marco into a tight embrace.

“Maybe…maybe I can talk to Star about you coming too.” Marco said.

“Why would she allow that?”

“If I tell her about us…”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea now. Won’t everyone find out if she knows? If I go with you, people will become suspicious.”

Marco pulled himself out of the hug. “What does that matter? We won’t be here anymore anyway.”

“I know I just…ugh I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to spend what little time we have left together.”

Marco felt sick to his stomach as a million thoughts filled his head. Owen couldn’t stand the idea of others knowing about them even if they weren’t there to witness it. He wanted Marco to give up his best friend for him, but he couldn’t wound his pride to be with Marco. It hurt and Marco wasn’t sure how to process that feeling.

He didn’t want to argue either, but he wanted to talk more about it. Before he got the chance to ask him why he was so embarrassed of him if they were in love, Owen grabbed him and kissed him hard. Marco’s back collided with the wall as Owen pinned his hands with his own. His tongue found its way into Marco’s mouth and his knee rose up between his legs to cause some friction. Marco moaned into the kiss, unable to ignore the growing arousal the other boy was causing as he began to grind down onto his knee.

The two were lost in the moment, seemingly forgetting the were outside. Unfortunately for them, this was a dire mistake. Usually no one came around this time of night besides the two of them and Star. The only other person known to walk the training grounds so late was traveling minstrel who had just returned from his latest trip to greet his friend. What Oskar had expected to see was Marco, sword in hand, practicing on training dummies. Instead he saw his friend against the wall, limbs tangled with another knight, kissing and moaning, lost in the moment.

Oskar attempted to sneak away without being heard, but he wasn’t known for his poise. When he turned to leave, he tripped and knocked over one of the training dummies, landing on top of it with a grunt. The two knights quickly broke apart and turned to the location of the disturbance. Marco immediately recognized Oskar and went to help him stand.

“Oskar, are you ok?” He asked, grabbing his arm and pulling him up off the dummy.

“Yea. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was coming by to say hi.” Oskar said, straightening his clothes and retrieving his dropped lute.

“It’s alright. We were being careless.” Marco said, turning to Owen. Unfortunately, he found the rest of the grounds empty as Owen has fled.

The following night, Marco waited for Owen at the grounds, but he never came. The next night was the same and Marco was becoming angry. He’d practically destroyed a training dummy in his anger and made his decision to not wait any longer.

The next day, after training, Marco took a deep breath and marched over to Owen and his friends. They sneered when he approached them and made rude comments, but Marco didn’t hear them. His eyes were set on Owen.

“I need to speak with you.” Marco said, voice loud and clear.

“What for?” Owen asked, sounding disinterested.

Marco quickly searched his brain for an excuse. “I was asked by the princess to bring a knight that I trusted today for help. You’re better than nothing.” Marco said, with the same level of unfamiliarity Owen had shown him.

“Fine.” He responded, following Marco from the grounds.

The garden below Star’s window was usually secluded this time of day and Marco thought it a good a place as any to have a private conversation. They didn’t speak as they walked and Marco felt as if he were walking with a stranger, not his lover. When they arrived, he turned to him, anger apparent on his face.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asked.

“What?”

“You didn’t show up the last two nights.”

Owen looked away with a look Marco could only assume was guilt. “I…I can’t risk being seen again.”

“Why not?”

“The others will turn on me if they find out that I’m…I’m…”

“What? Dating a guy? Or dating me?”

“Both.”

Marco knew the answer, but he still felt like he’d been punched in the stomach when Owen admitted it. He didn’t want to cry, not now. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Fine. This is over then. In a month I’ll be going to the Kingdom of Fire anyway.” Marco said, turning to leaving.

“Wait, you’re still going?” Owen asked.

“Of course. I have nothing keeping me here…anymore.”

“But I love-.”

“Shut up! You don’t love me! If you did, you wouldn’t be embarrassed of me! Just…just stay away from me from now on.” Owen tried again to stop him, but Marco ignored him and powered on.

He didn’t know where to go. He knew he was going to cry, but where? If he went home, his mom would see him. He couldn’t go the shed, that would only make it worse. He couldn’t go to Star and risk her getting angry for not telling her in the first place.

For the moment at least, luck appeared to be on his side, and he rounded a corner and crashed right into Oskar. The two went to Oskar’s childhood home that had been left to him when his parents died. It was rarely used as Oskar traveled so often and it was perfect.

Marco had never cried in front of Oskar before, but he couldn’t control it anymore when they were finally alone. Oskar sat quietly while he cried, lazily plucking a sad tune while he waited for his friend to gain control of himself again.

“I’m sorry.” Marco hiccupped.

“No need to apologize. Let it out for as long as you need to.” Oskar responded.

“I just…I had nowhere else to go.”

“Why couldn’t you go to the princess?”

“Because…she can’t know why I’m crying.”

“Care you tell why? I’m here to listen.”

“Owen’s embarrassed for anyone to know about us, so I ended things. Star never knew I was seeing someone. She doesn’t even know I’m gay yet. If I went to her now, she’d only be angry.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I tried but she’s so focused on her own problems right now she didn’t hear me.”

“Hmmm.” Oskar said.

They fell silent again and Marco stayed until he was fine again. He thanked Oscar for hiding him and allowing him to talk about his problems. He still felt terrible, but he didn’t feel like he could cry anymore. In a month, he wouldn’t even have to see him again. From now until the day he left, Owen was just another knight on the guard.

#svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #tomco #fanfic

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freewheelshippin · 5 years ago

Text

THE TOWER UPRIGHT

Supreme self-indulgence fic that takes place in the Shining Quest AU I made over on the idol hell blog. (Most important concept from there is that there’s a demon king, and the high courts and royals gain favor and power by marrying their heirs off to said king to sate his temper. Haruka’s the next in line for that, and the princes (and I) take some issue with that.) Borrows some from the OG Shining Quest Ranmaru meet-cute I wrote, but nothing too substantial.

SFW, but mild cw’s for a little blood, implied violence, and arranged marriages.

So the plan was set.

The tutor would return to the castle and spend the last of her goodwill there to create the riotous opening they’d been plotting and searching for for months. She’d alert her allies there the plan was happening -- some would escape with the princess to safety and hiding, and others would stay to influence the reconstruction from the chaos -- and then they’d use the spell of voice, ink, and song. They’d never done it on the scale expected, though.

“But it’s fine,” the tutor insists, gusto still in her voice. It’s become impossible to tell when it’s forced, genuine, or so ingrained it wasn’t one or the other entirely. “We have the theory down, and what we actually do doesn’t change. I make fresh ink drawings with the spell we developed, install them in different parts of the castle, and when it’s done, we signal and play like planned. And then...boom.” She mimes with her hands long, sprawling gestures.

The gambler crosses his arms. “It’s fuckin’ ludicrous to think this’ll work on the scale of a whole castle. Bigger ‘n that, really. But,” he sighs, closing his eyes. “I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t excited for the chance.”

“What d’you think our odds are?” the tutor replies with a chuckle and her own antsy smile. “Would you bet on us?”

The gambler furrows his brow. Gambling had never been about numbers or careful analysis. Courting luck was about instinct and guts, pulling unseen feelings from the world around and trusting you could muscle your way through that chaos. Robbing the latest smug jerk courting his power and fortune with a roll of the dice was simple. There, it was simple: do you have the guts to match me? And they never do.

This was less clear.

“...Yeah,” he finally answers. “You know I like shitty odds. I bluff way better through ‘em.”

The tutor laughs again, deep and loud. “Good. Cuz I still haven’t ever spotted your bluff once in cards, right? So you’ll be phenomenal.” She thwaps him on the shoulder, the weight of her hand lingering for a moment longer than usual.

“Yeah, so will you,” the gambler says gruffly, concern eating at the bottom of his heart and throat.

“Well, it’s not like there’s any other choice.” Her smile is genuine, but her voice is heavy with the strain of the situation.

The gambler let his eyes linger on her, the gnawing spreading through his entire chest.

“Guess not.”

************************************************ The gambler saw the tutor cry for the first time a few nights before the plan was to happen. Her face and hands were smudged with ink, and the lines on the paper she’d been practicing on shifted and bled where her tears had wet.

At first he’d thought it was That feeling. Stakes high, the weaving of spells becomes complicated by doubt, perfection, the gap in skill and perception, and the unkind mind. But he’d seen that before -- they’d both talked about it, even. For both of them, that pain had no place to go but fuel for their burning fire forward, the hungry chase of outdoing their previous, more flawed self, of having work nobody could ignore. For better or for worse. Was this just worse coming to a head?

“I wish being fragile were an option,” she struggles out after he sits down next to her. “I don’t want to go back on anything I’ve done. I don’t regret that I’m taking this path. But don’t you wish sometimes you could just break and fall apart?”

The gambler isn’t sure if he’s annoyed, hurt, or now completely consumed with concern. “Are you really dreaming of giving up after all this?” he growls.

“I’m not! I’m not, I’m not!” the tutor sobs defensively. “I’m just. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna do what I pledged to, but I’m just so tired. I feel like I haven’t stopped running since I was small, and I wish I’d had the choice to. The people around me asked for so much, took and took and took and hurt me if I wouldn’t give, and I just had to keep running and running, and,” The tutors makes a disgusted noise as she tries to find words through choking, hiccuping sobs. “and I don’t know. I think I’m jealous of the princess?” She laughs hollowly through the tears.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” the gambler replies harshly, even though a twinge in him instinctively understands, and his chest burns with regret at his sharp words.

It takes a lot of stops, starts, tries, and bowing out as the tutor searches for both words and the courage to admit them. Hesitantly, the gambler swallows, pushing his harsher instincts, pride, and regret down, and he shifts closer until they’re shoulder to shoulder.

In a few moments, her breathing steadies. She puts her face in her hands, and she takes a deep breath.

“I wish I’d been rescued,” she finally admits. “Like we’re doing for her. I wish I’d met someone like you back then.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, like you, dummy. Honest and not a manipulative bone in your body. You actually want people at their best, not some lie you’d feed ‘em so they become their perfect doll to use ‘n abuse as you please. Even when you’re being an ass, you’re coming from a place of passion I think is good for people. Like, you light fires under asses so people wanna fight for their best selves just by being around you.”

This isn’t the first time the tutor has expressed something like this to the gambler, and this isn’t the first time the gambler hasn’t had words to say as his chest feels tight and warm. He busies his mind, recalling moments of their previous conversations where she hesitated, alluded to things like this. Something had come up when she’d watched him clean out a pompous nobleman. The gambler convinced him to put everything on the line just to lose it all, and she asked him how he’d managed to do that. He recalls he’d said something about making people face a point of no return, where no matter how risky the gamble, the idea of turning back is just so impossible, you take the risk. She likened it to the life she left behind. She could have escaped to something stable and peaceful, lived a lie of falling in love and becoming a wife, and existed quietly as things went as they’d always gone. “But,” she added as she helped him count the earnings. “I didn’t have the courage to throw it away ‘til I went looking for you.”

The gambler covers his mouth, feeling his stomach tie itself up in knots. He’d felt a twinge of shame then -- that’s right, he remembers getting crabby as he got defensive, but she heckled her way out of it and insisted she was happier for it. He didn’t completely believe her back then, but now the nervousness in his guts shifts from shame to pride that he’d inspired such a change in the Royal Tutor herself.

Things remain quiet between the two of them, especially as the tutor lets her body steady and stop crying completely.

“....When your family lost everything and you had to rebuild yourself,” she asks, hesitating a little bit. “...did you ever wish someone could take you away from that long, long fight you’d never asked for?”

The gambler is quiet for a long time, confronting a truth in his own heart he’d never dared admit, either.

“...Yeah.”

They’re both quiet for a while, because nothing needs to be said as they just breathe. The whole room, fluttered with drafts of ink drawings, tabs, and scorch marks from their rehearsals, seems to breathe with them, as if accepting their catharsis.

“It hurts to hear you’re in pain like that,” the gambler eventually feels the need to say. “And it hurts to hear you were treated like that. But I can admire you more for it. I can respect a person that’ll risk everything because they won’t compromise their dreams of a better future.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” the tutor says, smiling at him as she shoves him a bit. The gambler smiles back, laughing as she puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him tight and closer to her.

“When this is over, I’ll take you away. We can disappear somewhere for a little while, the folks we got in place’ll do their jobs. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

The tutor starts crying again.

“Is it bad to admit I super fucking want that? I should be responsible for this mess I’m about to cause and dragged you into, right?”

The gambler thinks on it a little. The tutor had been clear with him from the start: her first goal was rescuing the princess, but it wouldn’t do to rescue her so someone else from the high court could sacrifice their heir for esteem. She wanted to destroy the need for a Devil’s Betrothed to begin with. And that probably meant destroying the high court built from the practice, if not the devil king himself.

He thinks about the drama of the high courts, the pressure and isolation of being groomed to sate the devil king and his elders’ wishes. He remembers what he and the tutor discussed -- the feeling of excessive pain and responsibility, inappropriately and violently thrust upon them too early by the selfish people close to them -- and for a moment the feeling disappears, imagining the warring families in upheaval, finally forced to pick up their pieces and take care of more than prestige.

“...You’re being the person your student needs. Whatever changes have to happen because of that are things that’re overdue anyways. It’s not your responsibility alone.” He hesitates. “Or mine.”

“Can we both figure out what being carefree feels like?”

The gambler doesn’t want to admit it, since he’d like to imagine he’s strong and stoic enough to protect this person he cares about from everything tough in this world for a while. But he’d like that too.

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

It’s time.

Everything is ready. The tutor dons her armor, though it isn’t the uniform she’d been assigned when she’d been hired by the royals. She wears colors she dyed herself, proudly patterned with motifs from her faraway homeland underneath dark armor. Bottles of ink are slung on her belt alongside brushes and rolls of paper. She shoulders her weapon, Hellrazor, a six-stringed axe the gambler had helped her restore to working condition. While she’s nervous, she also looks deeply ready to start the fire.

The gambler is likewise dressed in boisterous armor. His white jacket, rich with black and gold detailing, is draped over his shoulders, and while they’re still a ways away from casting the spell, he has his bass at the ready. His bag of enchanted dice and deck of cards are strapped to his belt, though he’s not anticipating any of his usual bar brawls. It’s more for preening and looking the part, really, and how could he not? Between the gravity of what they were about to do and the tutor putting on her best, they might as well look impeccable.

They exchange hand-carved charms, a spell laced into the sculpture of a simple orchid. The tutor strings hers onto a chain that sits underneath her armor, while the gambler puts his on a leather cord and his wrist, just below his runed gloves. They pulse faintly with their heartbeats and lurching anticipation.

“You know the drill,” the tutor says, her words hurried from the pressure. “You’ll know the feeling when it’s time to start playing.”

“Don’t panic,” the gambler replies coolly, putting his hands on her shoulders underneath the armor. “You play too much on the front edge of the beat when you panic.”

“But I’d trust you to keep up,” she says, returning the gesture as her armor clanks.

The gambler smiles wryly. “Just stay on the beat.”

The tutor closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Let’s kick some ass, rescue a princess, and put an end to the Devil’s Betrothed.”

Her armor is too bulky to really hug. The gambler and the tutor clasp hands firmly, meet one another’s eyes, and force themselves to separate.

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

It feels excruciatingly long before the gambler feels the rush of excitement and energy, pulsing from the little orchid on his wrist.

He’s been at his post since the tutor left, climbing up to the roof of the pub he operated out of as he watched her disappear into the alleys. Night had fallen, but they had been counting on that.

Just as rehearsed, he begins strumming, playing, closing his eyes as he feels their shared rhythm, passion, and energy. Despite having practiced, it still felt odd to be playing synced with someone without actually being able to hear them. He had to rely on the ghost of her in the back of his head, left there from so much rehearsal and learning one anothers’ musical habits.

He exhaled, standing up straighter as he began to sing, low but still clear as he let his throat shape the melody. The pulsing at his wrist stopped feeling like careening, frenzied energy and began to turn into something more focused. He cracked a smile as the feeling began to spread through his body, his fingers feeling more nimble as they buzzed with the rush of performance.

He could only assume the tutor felt that, even far across the city and through castle walls. She responded in turn, the rush beginning to feel like a blossoming warmth that unfolded from their spines, then chests, then entire body. It became instinctive how to harmonize his voice to hers, match his bass to her guitar, even without actually hearing it anywhere but his instincts searching through the chaos of the moment.

The most crucial part of the song was coming up. The haunting, swaying melody was about to rapidly shift to something far more aggressive, and like a spark to fuel, it would be what actually ignited the spell into something real. The gambler had kept his eyes firmly shut so he could put his entire focus into the song and successfully weaving the spell with the tutor, and his chest felt like it might burst from the excitement of the challenge, performance, and intimacy of it all.

He knew exactly when she’d shift her voice from soft and clean to a screaming bellow and her guitar from gentle strums into thrashing speed. A low, rhythmic growl grew from the pit of his stomach to accompany hers, just as they’d practiced, and for a moment, he thought he could hear her scream echoing through the clear night sky.

There was a moment that felt like freefall, both for him and the tutor. He would have forgotten to keep playing had the air smelling of powerful smoke not jolted him back to his senses.

He finally opened his eyes. The castle was completely engulfed in flames, taking form into a monstrous beast crowned by massive horns that howled and screeched with fury and hellfire he could feel reaching into his very soul. The greatest sense of fear, accomplishment, and adrenaline surged through his body like lighting, especially where the little sculpted orchid met the skin on his wrist. He couldn’t help but holler into the night air, his voice rough with excitement.

“Demon king!” His heart was singing and screaming all at once. He could feel the lack of restraint taking over his careful training, his throat stinging a touch as it rasped.

“Let’s rock.”

He’d never felt so powerful in his life. And he could tell the tutor was feeling the same.

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

Summoning, restraining, and banishing an archdemon was extremely hard work, as it turned out. The gambler felt like his body might give from the strain. But the idea of giving in when the tutor could feel it so close to their goal disgusted him. He couldn’t keep going on the sheer adrenaline alone, and he knew from experience the tutor wouldn’t admit she was losing steam when she definitely was.

The demon breathed furious energy. The gambler and tutor had hoped they’d be able to get the upper hand by sheer surprise, and they’d been lucky enough to be right. But however powerful and well-practiced their spell was, however powerful the tutor’s drawings, and however powerful their musical conduits were, their luck and prep alone wouldn’t be enough.

The gambler searched through his own memories. It began to feel like the demon was clawing at his insides, tearing away his skin, song, and soul with white-hot claws.

The only part of him that didn’t sear with pain was the little spot on his wrist. The tutor had to be in pain too, but instead she thundered with rage of her own right back. She was going all in. He could just hear her -- you think you can take me, you horny bastard who needs a stupid centuries-spanning harem to get your rocks off? You wanna fucking go? You wanna tell me you being upset we won’t let you nut anymore is worth all the pain and rage and sacrifice you demand?

The gambler gritted his teeth into a grin. This was the point of no return. Whatever came from turning back wasn’t worth it. At this point, there was no bluffing. There was only the belief, fueled by a lifetime of rage and rebuilding and joy, that there was a bright road ahead worth forging.

For himself. For the princess. For the people.

And of course, for her.

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

The demon had lost. With one final chord and echoed shout shared between the two of them, it was dragged beneath the earth’s crust, all the way down to its molten core.

The gambler collapsed where he stood, whooping to the clear night sky in victory and release. The city was swelling with confusion. That was to be expected, of course. The very demon this whole society had lived in fear of had just been dragged out, revealed, and locked away with no real explanation.

As the gambler panted and stared at the night sky, he realized that the pulsing on his wrist was not of pure victory, but panicked adrenaline and fear. As his heartbeat started to slow, the tutor’s wasn’t going down at all.

His stomach sank, and he howled in shock and despair when it disappeared entirely.

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

He’d ventured out and tried looking for her with no luck.

The plan had been for them to meet at the pub where they’d first discussed working together (or, really, the back alley where she’d attacked him in a panic before asking for his help). He’d since moved his base of operations to somewhere else, and it was now just some nondescript, back-alley pub. Maybe she’d missed him in the chaos of the streets swelling and ebbing with panicked, confused, tired, and homeward-bound citizens. But the back of his mind screamed with the truth. The orchid no longer gave off a pulse. Either the charm was removed or -- it hurt too much to think about.

Maybe it fell off. No, that was underneath armor -- chainmaille and her absurdly large shoulderpieces all protected it. If it’d fallen it’d still be held tightly beneath the maille, and it couldn’t be cut off easily. Removed, then? What reason would she have to take it off? Maybe someone else took it off. Who? Why? What happened in the castle after they’d summoned the demon? She’d made a plan to play and cast in the princess’s chambers after stashing all the drawings, especially while no-one still suspected anything. The warrior, sage, and sorcerer would escort the princess out during the confusion. The summoner would be the tutor’s support while she was awakening and destroying the demon king, while the rogue would help them escape once the demon was destroyed. Where in the middle of that would it make sense to take off the pendant?

At one point the jester made his way to the pub, flagging down the gambler with a goofy smile that didn’t at all match the gambler’s mood. He was usually halfway happy to see him, even if he struggled to show it, but all the gambler could do was scowl at him as they stepped into a back corner table to talk.

“Hoho! You’re mean to me even when you’re a big winner?”

“Why are you here? How are you here?”

“I walked, silly! And how couldn’t I come and congratulate you on such a job well done?”

The jester had been an ally of the tutor’s for as long as he’d been an ally of the gambler’s. The two of them were particularly loud and aggressively silly whenever they worked together, and as irritating as that could get, they did get the job done.

“I think it’s real ballsy of you to be here when you’re supposed to be our inside man in the castle.”

The jester laughs sheepishly. “Aah, but the samurai and alchemist are doing such a good job of that right now. I thought ‘oh! I can take a break to check on my favorite demon-slaying, princess-rescuing criminal!’”

The gambler glares at the jester, who flinches a little. “Haha...but I guess you’re beyond congrats right now.” The jester recomposes himself, coming down a touch from his usual exuberance. “....The princess is safe with her girlfriend, and their escorts are in good shape, too. Things are going very well in the castle for us. The high court knows big changes are happening.The Devil’s Betrothed…..it’s already a thing of the past.”

The gambler just grunts. The jester’s face falls into a sad smile.

“....I don’t know where she is, either. I’m sorry.”

The gambler takes a deep breath, gritting his teeth and swallowing his temper.

“Thanks for coming to check on me. But go back to the castle.”

Without waiting for another word, the gambler gets up and leaves.

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

He looked through many of their usual haunts before he went back to his usual base of operations. She’d camped out in a spare room there for quite some time, first only staying there for nights too late to return to the castle, then routinely sleeping there as more of her belongings migrated and made the room hers.

The whole place was poorly lit and empty when he entered. If she wasn’t here, he was planning on grabbing every weapon he could carry and storming the castle himself until someone coughed up an answer.

He was taken by surprise as his boot made a soft squelching noise against the ground. Something was wet underfoot. He looked closer, and he could see a faint, slick trail glinting with light, leading all the way to her room.

He rushed and thrust the door open, not bothering with caution or thought. It was dimly lit in the room, too, but something didn’t quite feel as empty. The trail lead to her bed, where there was a figure piled in a heap. He immediately raced and reached so he could find their face, heart racing even more than when they cast the spell.

Her face was cut and swollen in places, hair matted by dried blood, but it was definitely the tutor. It took her a couple pained, groggy moments to process and recognize what was happening, but when she met his eyes, she lit up with a weak smile.

The gambler immediately shifted her into his arms, cradling her body. Her armor and chainmaille were missing, and she was instead in ruddy linens that were worn and wet. The gambler felt warm blood beginning to soak into his clothes. It was hard to make out in the dim lighting, but his eyes darted over her and stung as he began to take in the damage.

The tutor tried to speak, but it came out garbled.

“Stop. Shut up, shut up, shut up. It’s not important. C’mon, save your strength.”

She blearily waved him off and kept trying to talk, but nothing came out coherently. The gambler pleaded with her to stop, until finally she faded, leaning into the gambler’s chest as his heart thumped wildly.

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

The city had had time to calm since the Demon King had been sealed away. The high court was still in utter upheaval, but it was clear a new way of life for them was inevitable, and it would be one where they could no longer sacrifice lives to gain prestige and favor.

Light filters in through a window in a quiet cottage at the edge of the city, and the gambler groans and squints against it. He shifts and collapses back into the bed, pulling covers over himself to try and block out the late morning light.

The tutor gently stirs against him. He gingerly lays an arm over her bandaged middle and curls up closer to her.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t really do much else,” she says with a small laugh. “But at least I have a good cuddle buddy.”

The gambler chuckles a little bit, pulling closer. The whole room seems to breathe as they do, and time is allowed to be as leisurely as they like.

“We’re going to have so much to do once I heal up,” she murmurs.

“So heal up,” he replies, playing with some of her long hair. “And don’t worry about anything else.”

She smiles warmly. “Except getting back to sleep.”

“Mm.” He closes his eyes and sighs deeply, pressing his forehead against hers. She laughs unsurely, but settles into it with a sigh, and they drift off once again.

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

song inspo: uroboros (album) - dir en grey -- i imagined Vinushka and Inconvenient Ideal combined as the big demon-summoning/banishing song! -- driving time (song) - girugamesh, omniphobia (song) - sianvar, lots of iron f’in maiden but ESPECIALLY two minutes to late night’s cover of The Trooper

the tutor’s armor is my paladin-self’s design!

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #i can't believe i'm posting this #i can't believe i WROTE this #but that's just the place we're in lads #i do feel better and that's what counts!!!#shining quest au

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thefemalethatwrites · 6 years ago

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Pheonix (Genji Shimada x Reader)

Request; No.

Prompt; After being set up to marry Hanzo you gain feelings for his younger brother.

Relationship; Hanzo Shimada x Reader, Genji Shimada x Reader

Warning; Cursing? Violence, Death, Mentions of Death

Word Count; 1401

A/N: Your Cyborg suit is similar to Genji’s but glows red and is black metal instead of green and grey/white metal...EXAMPLE Also credit to the artist.

~~~

(Y/N)’s POV

I sliced the head off the dummy I was practicing on,

“You can’t do that to her!” I heard mother yell making me tilt my head,

“And why’s that?! She’s my daughter!” Father yelled,

“Our daughter! They are your sworn enemy! And you’re willingly to throw your only child to them!” Mother yelled,

“With this marriage two of the most powerful clans will unite!” He yelled,

“That’s all you care about, power!” She screamed,

“Enough! I’ve made my decision” He yelled before the door to their room opened, “(Y/N)” Father called me over, I put my Katana in its holder on my waist before I went over and bowed,

“What is it father?” I asked,

“You’ll be joining me on my visit to the Shimada Castle” He said, my eyes widened, I nodded,

“I’ll follow your lead” I say, he lead me to the car and we drove off the family grounds and towards the Shimada Castle, we arrived and was met by the Shimada’s leader, he and father shook hands before he turned to me, so I bowed,

“So, this is your daughter?” He asked as he lead us through the castle,

“Yes, as I promised” Father said.

“I see she’s trained with the Katana, like my youngest” He said,

“The Katana is her favourite. She’s also trained with the bow, guns and batons” Father said proudly, I rolled my eyes at his bragging,

“I see. Hanzo. Genji” He said, two young men approached us and bowed, I bowed back, “Boys, I’d like to introduce (Y/N) Mirada” Their father introduced, the green haired male took my hand and kissed it,

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Mirada. I’m Genji” He introduced, I nodded before he was pulled back by the other, whom I’m guessing to be Hanzo, and had withdrawn a Katana and swung at me, I quickly looked at Father for any signs but was given none, so I caught the blade and glared at him, shocked cover the Shimada men as they stared at me, I sighed and let go of the blade, their father laughed before taking my father and Hanzo away, “Are we to follow them?” Genji asked,

“If we were my father would have called for me already” I say watching them enter a room.

***

I had been set to marry Hanzo out of the two brothers and I had to live at Shimada castle, I sighed as I was sat in my room, they was a light knock on my door causing me to stand up,

“Enter” I say and Genji opened the door, my eyes widened as I ran over and hugged him “You’re back! How was Overwatch?!” I asked making him chuckle as he closed the door before pulling away,

“Boring” He pouted, I smiled and pecked his lips causing him to smirk before he began to kiss me, he pinned me to the bed before another knock on the door came, we quickly separated, he hid as I stood up,

“Enter” I say, Hanzo opened the door,

“(Y/N) would you come with me” He said, I nodded before following him outside,

“What’s wrong?” I asked,

“You’ve been a spy for your clan. That’s why my father died” He spat turning to me with a Katana in hand, my eyes widened

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” I asked as I back away from him,

“Don’t try twisting my mind as you’ve done to Genji’s. The sooner you’re gone, the quicker the Shimada clan can repair” He growled, I scoffed

“Fair enough. Try your best” I spat as I withdrew my own Katana.

***

“(Y/N) Mirada, age 22, heir to the Mirada clan” A voice said as I awoke, I sat up and saw that my body was robotic,

“What happened?” I muttered as I inspected my new body,

“Ah, Miss Mirada, you’re awake” Someone exclaimed, a young woman came over to me, I pinned her to the wall by her throat

“What happened?!” I growled,

“I found you gravely wounded. I brought you here to save you, but to do so I needed to…” She trailed off and I let go of her,

“You saved my life by turning me into a killing machine” I spat before I began to leave,

“Wait!” She called after me,

“What?!” I spat turning to her,

“I’m sorry” She said, I continued to leave.

***

I arrived at Nepal at the Monks temple,

“Hello my child. What can I do for you?” One of them asked, I bowed

“I’m in need of your assistance” I say, he hummed

“Very well. Follow me” He said before leading me inside, “So, what are you in need of my assistance for?” He asked,

“Recently, I was found by a doctor after being gravely wounded in a fight. I was on the brink of death, so she turn me into this machine” I growled, he hummed

“It seems to me that you’re in need to come to peace with your new form and abilities. I shall help you to do so. My name is Tekhartha Mondatta” He introduced, I nodded

“(Y/N) Mirada” I introduced.

***

I watched from the roof as Zenyatta’s student trained while he and Mondatta spoke to each other, I had been here for two years and within that time I have learnt to accept and embrace my form, in doing so I had a full robotic suit that was made for me by Overwatch, which is where I first woke up in this form, they made it so I could move efficiently and quietly, I jumped from the roof and approached the brothers,

“Ah, speak and she shall appear” Zenyatta said, I nodded.

“I was just saying that Zenyatta’s student is doing so well he could pass you” Mondatta said,

“Is that so? I’d like to see him try” I say glancing at the student trained,

“Genji” Zenyatta called him over, my eyes widened, No, it can’t be him, he came up, “(Y/N), I’d like to introduce you to my student; Genji Shimada” Zenyatta introduced, I nodded and bowed,

“Pleasure to meet you” I say as I stood up to see him tilting his head in confusion, “Mondatta, it’s time for your trip to Kings Row” I say, he nodded, so we left.

***

Mondatta was about to enter the car to evacuate him away when there was an explosion on the roofs making him stop and watch as two females fell from the explosion, one of them had a Sniper in their hands and fired, I went to catch it, but was too slow as the bullet lodge itself into Mondatta’s head,

“No!” A woman in the crowd cried as he fell into the car, I felt a rush of anger wash over me as I quickly made my way up to the rooftops, the assassin was heading towards an aircraft making me charge at her and tackle her to the ground as my robotic hand wrapped itself around her throat.

“Why did you do it?!” I growled, she smirked and chuckled, I slammed her against the ground again before light emitted from behind me making her eyes widened before she kicked me off her and quickly retreated to the aircraft, I let out a frustrated yell as I punched a chimney, I caught my reflection in a puddle and rolled my eyes, my Phoenix wings were out and spread wide, I sighed and retracted them before they disappeared back into my back, the reason I have them is because in every generation of the Mirada, there is a rule for only one child to be born so the power of the Phoenix is passed down and is not weakened, but I thought that the spirit of the Phoenix had disappeared when I became the machine.

***

I arrived back at Nepal and retreated up to my room, avoiding any contact with Zenyatta as it was my fault his brother was no longer alive, I removed my headgear and threw it against the wall before noticing a figure by the door,

“I didn’t mean to intrude, my apologises” Genji said,

“No, it’s fine. What’s up?” I asked as I turned to him,

“You-You’re like me…” He trailed off,

“What a half-arsed piece of human and half tin-can? Yeah” I snapped,

“It really is you” He muttered before giving me a hug.

#Overwatch #hanzo shimada #hanzo shimada x reader #genji shimada #genji x reader #genji shimada x reader #zenyatta #mondatta

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exoticarmy127 · 7 years ago

Text

In a world of ‘cannot be’s’ (we were meant to be) - V

WTSILY #1 - Prince Taehyung au

Y/N grunted as she sliced through the head of the dummy with her sword, the head falling to the mat with a thud. She moved her right arm at lightning speed, executing sharp and precise movements; her blade slicing through the air swiftly.

It was 2 a.m. and the palace was quiet apart from the sound of knights’ iron footsteps echoing through the brick walls every now and then as they made their nightly rounds. The training room was empty as well, as it should be at this time, considering it was not the time for combat training but sleep.

But Y/N had been bothered all night, unable to close her eyes and find rest; feeling a bubbling frustration deep within her. She thought perhaps it may have something to do with the ball earlier that evening…

The moment the thought surfaced, she shook her head and let out a growl before slicing through the dummy once more, removing its right arm.

Fighting and training had always made her feel better, which was the probably why she had found herself going to the armoury and training hall in the middle of the night; hoping to cheer herself up. Being one of the kingdom’s top trainers and the only child of the kingdom’s General, Y/N had been born to fight. She had learned how to wield a sword before she could learn to read. She rode horse back when she was only three and mastered the art of jiu-jitsu and archery at age ten. Combat was something she had been trained to do from when she was very young and it had always been something she was just…good at.

However recently, Y/N began to wonder what it would have been like to be trained as a proper lady instead of a fighter. What it would be like if she were to become like those girls in pretty dresses? Attending royal balls and dancing with…

Y/N’s shoulders slumped at the thought of familiar brown eyes, causing her to be off balance and losing her stance instantly. She stood there in the middle of the room, staring down at her hand gripping the sharp blade and wondered if it was ever too late to—

“When they said you slept with a sword at your side, I had thought they were only kidding. I can see now that they were not.”

Y/N jumped at the sound of a deep voice, turning around swiftly with her sword pointed towards the intruder. The first lesson her father ever taught her was to never let your guard down, and she couldn’t believe she had let herself be deaf to the steps of her current visitor.

However, Y/N’s gaze softened and she relaxed the moment she realized who had walked in.

“Sorry, I did not mean to frighten you.” Prince Taehyung stood tall by the entryway with his hands up in surrender, wearing only a white ruffled shirt and dark trousers. His handsome face was a mask of curiosity; dark hair slightly tousled, and feet laced in boots which made Y/N wonder where he had gone to at this time.

“Your highness!” Y/N immediately bowed and lowered her sword. “Forgive me, I did not—“

“What are you doing up so late, Y/N?”

Y/N snapped up at his words, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. It wasn’t the first time the prince had addressed her so casually. In fact, he had called her by her name every chance he got, but Y/N never got used to it. And she wasn’t sure why she lets him do it, considering they weren’t exactly “friends” or in the same tier of the hierarchy to be addressed as such. He was royalty and Y/N, although had an important role in the kingdom and lived within the premises of the royal villa, was but a mere commoner.

A chortle echoed through the room, snapping her from her thoughts, and Y/N realized that the melodious sound came from the prince himself.

“Is Y/N not your name?” He smiled, amused. “You look a little…shocked.”

“Oh. No, I just… I’m sorry, your grace—“

“Taehyung,” he sighed. “I told you, you can just call me Taehyung. If you won’t call me that outside, then perhaps you can oblige my request to address me informally when it’s just…us.”

Y/N felt herself a little breathless at his words, unsure why the mere sound of “just as” made her feel a little woozy.

“As you wish, your—“ she paused when the prince gave her a sharp look. “Taehyung.”

The prince—Taehyung smiled then, that adorable grin (although Y/N wouldn’t admit it out loud) that literally lit up the whole kingdom. Saying his name without the honorifics was still quite foreign to Y/N’s tongue and yet it also felt familiar…and she felt an undeniable longing to say it once more.

Taehyung, she thought. Taehyung.

“So… what are you doing up?” He asked, taking a step further into the room.

“Oh… I… well… I just couldn’t sleep.” She said and Y/N wanted to reprimand herself for stuttering so much. Taehyung must think she was an illiterate.

If he did, he didn’t show it and merely shrugged. “Same. I actually left to go out riding.”

“At this hour, sire?” Y/N exclaimed. “But…Tae! You can’t just waltz out of the palace without guards! You could’ve been mobbed out there; kidnapped or—are you… laughing?” Y/N looked at the prince incredulously, seeing a bright smile on his face. His eyes sparkled against the moonlight that shone through the large windows across the room and Y/N averted her gaze, the sight a little too much for her. “This is no laughing matter, Tae—“

“You called me Tae,” he interrupted, grinning. Y/N stopped, realizing that she had accidentally called him that and immediately blushed.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No…no…” Taehyung waved his hand. “I uh,” he cleared his throat, looking away. “Liked it.”

Y/N was speechless at his words and she wasn’t sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her but there was a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

They were silent for a while; just standing there, unsure how to continue the conversation. When the awkward silence got a little too much, Y/N turned from him and cleared her throat. “Aren’t you tired though? That was some ball this evening…”

Earlier this evening, a grand ball had ensued in celebration of crown Prince Namjoon’s, Taehyung’s older brother, engagement to the princess of the Far-eastern seas. It was a fitting arrangement as the future king had already been acquainted with the princess from back when they were very young and the two of them had grown fond of one another through the years.

Rumors say they might even be in love. Y/N hoped they were, for her mother always told her marriage was a bond between two people who loved each other more than they love themselves. It was the union of two people—an eternal promise. Y/N couldn’t comprehend how anyone could just arrange marriages or how anyone could marry someone and not be in love with them.

At the thought, she hoped Taehyung gets to marry for love. It was least likely with him being a prince, but perhaps not being heir to the throne may give him little more freedom to choose.

Taehyung rubbed at his nape, “Yeah, it was. I’m happy for my brother… Princess Mari seems wonderful. I do not know her that well but Joonie hyung often spoke of her. He likes her very much and is very glad with the arrangement.”

Y/N smiled at that, nodding as she placed the sword back into its casing. “That’s great to hear.”

“I didn’t see you there, though. I’m fairly sure the whole kingdom was invited.”

Y/N paused at his statement, unsure if she should laugh that he had to ask, or feel surprised—grateful—that he had noticed her absence.

“Oh well, you know. Balls…parties…” she chuckled breathlessly. “They’re not really my place…”

“What do you mean?”

This time, Y/N frowned, remembering why she had been upset in the first place…

For in an alternate world where titles and bloodlines didn’t matter, Y/N would have openly admitted her feelings for the young prince standing beside her. Admit to how seeing his smile made her day just a little better after a hard day of training; admit to how his mere presence, standing tall beside his older brother by the throne, takes her breath away… and admit to how his very being inspired her to become the loyal subject that she is to their little kingdom. And that she would gladly lay her life on the line if it meant protecting their beautiful prince.

The prince who cared deeply for his people; the prince who happily dined and laughed with serfs in the server’s kitchen…

The prince who had stolen her heart from the very first day they had met; way back when they were only eight when she had taught him how to ride horseback.

Y/N looked at him, eyes casting downwards to his boots, seeing them stained with mud. She wondered if he even recalled that she was the one who had taught him how to ride.

“Balls are not a place for girls like me,” she murmured, turning from him to fix the weaponry on the table. She remembered the way Taehyung danced with those girls at the balls, how each of them looked fitting in his arms. They were the most gorgeous women she had ever seen in her life and it was like a cold, hard slap in the face being faced with the reality that a man like Taehyung, a man of royalty, could never be with someone like her. A handsome prince had always been meant to be with a beautiful princess…

And Y/N was no princess. An honourable knight perhaps, but that simply wasn’t enough. Y/N couldn’t bear to see it and fled the ball before she could even begin to enjoy the festivities.

“Girls like what exactly?” Taehyung’s voice sounded closer but Y/N ignored it; busying herself with wiping the array of knives on the table.

“Beautiful girls,” she answered simply, thinking that was the best description for them. A pregnant silence hung over the room and Y/N sighed, thinking how even Taehyung agreed with her.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

It was barely a whisper but in this empty hall where every sound seemed to be suspended into the air, words echoing and bouncing through the walls, Taehyung might as well have shouted in her ear.

Y/N turned and was surprised to find him so close, only a couple of steps away from her. Taehyung’s expression was serious, gaze intent on hers. She wanted turn from him but he had her locked in place, unable to look away.

Before she could speak, Taehyung was already stepping back and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Thanks you for your company, Y/N. I quite enjoyed it.” He said and bowed towards her. Y/N wanted to tell him that she barely did anything but before she could, Taehyung stopped by the hall’s entrance and looked back at her.

“Oh. And I hope you’ll attend the next ball. Save me a dance, yes?” Y/N was rendered speechless and Taehyung smirked, adding. “Or do I have to give a personal invitation?”

Y/N wanted to say no, he didn’t have to; but Taehyung was already walking towards her once more and before she could stop him, he had knelt down in front of her.

“Your highness!” She exclaimed as she watched him get down on one knee. But her protests died on her lips the moment he looked up at her with those beautiful eyes, rendering her immobile.

“Miss Y/FN. Would you do me the honor of attending the winter ball and…accompanying me through the evening?”

Y/N’s mouth hung open, the answer stuck on her throat. Taehyung, however looked absolutely serious.

Accompanying him meant being on his arm and��The mere thought made Y/N dizzy. Taehyung seemed adamant at getting her to speak up and so he reached out and held her hand.

“Please?”

Y/N tried to ignore how warm his large hand felt around hers. Right then she knew, if she had one wish, she would have wished that he never let go.

“I—“

The door to the training room suddenly opened revealing Jimin, one of the palace guards and one Y/N considered a friend among the royal guards. The moment he saw the situation in front of him, his eyes widened and he bowed immediately.

“Your highness! I did not know you were here. My sincerest apologies… I did not intend to intrude on this intimate moment.”

Intimate?! Y/N thought incredulously then realized the current position they were in: with Taehyung down on one knee and holding her hand like he was professing his love to her. She tugged on her hand to remove it from his hold, but Taehyung only tightened his grip, looking at her sharply (like he was saying, not so fast).

“No it’s quite alright, Jimin. Actually… come in, I need your help.”

“How can I be of service, your grace?”

“Y/N here is about to give me an answer,” Taehyung told nonchalantly. “And I need a witness.”

Jimin scrunched his eyebrows at the weird request then looked at Y/N for some enlightenment. She gave him a helpless look.

“Your highness—“ she started.

“Taehyung,” the prince corrected immediately and Y/N huffed, his hold on her unyielding.

“T—Taehyung, I…I am honoured by your invitation but…” Y/N paused when she saw the way his face fell; like a kicked puppy. He looked up at her, frowning, eyes shining with disappointment that was hard to ignore and Y/N suddenly couldn’t find the courage to decline.

“O—okay,” she blurted and Taehyung’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You’ll also dance with me, right?”

Y/N glanced over at Jimin who simply looked amused by the whole thing. She was about to say no when Taehyung added, “The winter ball is also my birthday, just putting it out there…”

Y/N blinked at him, wanting to say that she knew it was. She just couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that the prince—also the love of her life—was asking her to dance at a ball…

“Please Y/N?” he pouted, staring at her intently and Y/N just had about enough; feeling like her heart would combust any moment if he kept looking at her like that.

“Alright! Okay, I’ll dance with you. Can you just…stop looking at me like that?” Y/N huffed, earning a chuckle from the prince. She expected him to let go now, but he didn’t. Instead, Taehyung brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Y/N hoped she didn’t look as red as she felt then.

“I’m looking forward to it, Y/N.” He stood up and bowed to her once more. “Have a good night.”

Taehyung left swiftly right after, leaving Y/N with a racing heart and flushed cheeks. She wasn’t sure if what happened really happened or something she had conjured on her mind. She pinched her arm and winced. She was definitely not dreaming.

“Well, that was interesting.”

Y/N jumped, forgetting that she wasn’t alone. “What?”

Jimin chuckled, “I didn’t know you and the prince were…close.”

“We’re not.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” he teased. “Prince Taehyung wouldn’t just personally invite anyone to his birthday ball. Let alone ask to accompany him…”

“What are you saying, then?” Y/N prodded, her heart drumming against her ribcage.

“I think you already know exactly what I’m saying.” Jimin winked before turning on his heel, leaving Y/N with hope flaring like an open fire in her chest.

END

I think this will be a cute au to continue someday... keke~ <3 What do you guys think?

BTS series: Ways to Say I Love You masterlist

- Kaye Allen

#WTSILY #Taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #BTS #networkbangtan #bangtan fanfiction #BTS fanfic #series #Kaye Allen #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #BTS fic #bangtan boys #beyond the scene

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aliceviceroy · 7 years ago

Link

1. Spirituality for dummies.

If your thinking is mired in shame and guilt (with perhaps a twist of drug abuse or suicidal thinking), then subscribing to a religion can help you climb to a higher level of awareness. Your mindset, however, still remains incredibly dysfunctional; you’ve merely swapped one form of erroneous thinking for another.

For reasonably intelligent people who aren’t suffering from major issues with low self-esteem, religion is ridiculously consciousness-lowering. While some religious beliefs can be empowering, on the whole the decision to formally participate in a religion will merely burden your mind with a hefty load of false notions.

When you subscribe to a religion, you substitute nebulous group-think for focused, independent thought.

3. Engineered obedience training.

Religions are authoritarian hierarchies designed to dominate your free will. They’re power structures that aim to convince you to give away your power for the benefit of those who enjoy dominating people. Religions don’t market themselves as such, but this is essentially how they operate.

Religions are very effective at turning human beings into sheep. They’re among the most powerful instruments of social conditioning. They operate by eroding your trust in your own intellect, gradually convincing you to put your trust into some external entity, such as a deity, prominent figure, or great book...Simply by convincing you to give your power away to something outside yourself, religion will condition you to be weaker, more docile, and easier to control. Religions actively promote this weakening process as if it were beneficial, commonly branding it with the word faith. What they’re actually promoting is submission.

Religions strive to fill your head with so much nonsense that your only recourse is to bow your head in submission, often quite literally. Get used to spending a lot of time on your knees because acts of submission such as bowing and kneeling are frequently incorporated into religious practice. Canine obedience training uses similar tactics.

Have you ever wondered why religious teachings are invariably mysterious, confusing, and internally incongruent? This is no accident by the way — it’s quite intentional.

By putting forth confusing and internally conflicting information, your logical mind (i.e. your neocortex) is overwhelmed. You try in vain to integrate such contradictory beliefs, but it can’t be done. The net effect is that your logical mind disengages because it can’t find a pattern of core truth beneath all the nonsense, so without the help of your neocortex, you devolve to a more primitive (i.e. limbic) mode of thinking. You’re taught that this faith-based approach is a more spiritual and conscious way to live, but in reality it’s precisely the opposite. Getting you to distrust your own cerebral cortex actually makes you dumber and easier to manipulate and control. Karl Marx was right when he said, “Religion is the opiate of the people.”

For example, the Old Testament and the New Testament in the Bible frequently contradict each other with various rules of conduct, yet both are quoted during mass. Church leaders also behave in direct violation of the Church’s teachings, such as by covering up criminal and immoral activities by their own priests. Those who try to mentally process such glaring contradictions as coherent truth invariably suffer for it. A highly conscious person would reject membership in such an organization as patently ridiculous. So-called divine mysteries are engineered to be incomprehensible. You aren’t meant to ever make sense of them since that would defeat the whole purpose. When you finally wake up and realize it’s all B.S., you’ve taken the first step towards freedom from this oppressive system.

The truth is that so-called religious authorities don’t know any more about spirituality than you do. However, they know how to manipulate your fear and uncertainty for their own benefit.

Although the most popular religions are very old, L. Ron Hubbard proved the process can be replicated from scratch in modern times. As long as there are large numbers of people who fear the responsibility of their own power, religions will continue to dominate the landscape of human development.

If you want to talk to God, then communicate directly instead of using third-party intermediaries. Surely God has no need of an interpreter.

5. Support your local pedophile.

In addition to being a serious waste of time, religious practice can also be a huge waste of money.

For starters when you donate to a major religion, you support its expansion, which means you’re facilitating the enslavement of your fellow humans. That isn’t very nice, now is it? If you feel the urge to donate money, give it to a real and honorable cause, not a fabricated one.

Religions offer a suite of special services to generate additional income. They’ll spout some gibberish while feeding you a crusty wafer, pronounce you bonded to a fellow human being, snip some of your excess skin, pour water on your head, proclaim your manhood, cast out your demons, pronounce your transgressions forgiven, and so on. When they can’t think of anything else, they make up some drivel like confirming you’re still loyal to them. The bill may read “suggested donation,” but it’s still a bill.

When you donate money to a religious organization, you’re doing much worse than throwing your money away. You’re actively funding evil. If you think that spending a billion dollars to defend pedophiles and rapists is a good use of your hard-earned cash, perhaps you should run for Pope. You could hardly do worse. At least Wall Street is honest about its greed and lust.

One of my Catholic high school teachers was later revealed to be a repeat child molester… written up in the newspaper and everything. I didn’t see any suspicious behavior at the time, and to be totally honest, I actually liked that teacher and was shocked to learn of his extracurricular activities. He was shuffled from one location to another by those who knew about his appetite for young flesh. I’m glad I wasn’t on the menu, but I feel sad for those who were. Methinks God should raise his standards… just a tad.

Why aren’t Catholic priests allowed to marry? This has nothing to do with what’s written in the Bible or with any benefits of celibacy. This rule was invented by the Church to prevent their priests from producing heirs. When the priests died, their property would go back to the Church, thereby enriching the rich even more. Apparently God needed more cash. It was a very effective policy, as the Church is now among the richest and most powerful organizations on earth. It’s hard to fail when you have a loyal force of lifetime indentured servants who work cheaply and then yield their life savings to you when they die.

Lay religious people (i.e. non-clergy), on the other hand, are encouraged to have lots of babies because that means more people are born into the religion, which means more money and a bigger power base. Condoms are a big no-no; they’re bad for business. Marriage is a big yes; it means more brainwashed babies will be made.

Would you seriously consider this sort of structure a “good cause” worthy of your hard-earned cash?

7. Idiocy or hypocrisy – pick one.

When you subscribe to an established religion, you have only two options. You can become an idiot, or you can become a hypocrite. If you’ve already chosen the former, I’ll explain why, and I’ll use small words so that you’re sure to understand.

First, there’s the idiocy route. You can willingly swallow all of the contrived, man-made drivel that’s fed to you. Accept that the earth is only 10,000 years old. Believe stories about dead bodies coming back to life. Learn about various deities and such. Put your trust in someone who thinks they know what they’re talking about. Eat your dogma. Good boy!

Congratulations! You’re a moron believer. You’ll be saved, enlightened, and greeted with tremendous fanfare when you die… unless of course all the stuff you were taught turns out not to be true. Nah… if the guy in the robe says it’s true, it must be true. Ya gotta have faith, right?

Next, we have the hypocrisy option. In this case your neocortex is strong enough to identify various bits of utter nonsense in the religious teachings that others are trying to ram down your throat. You have a working B.S. detector, but it’s slightly damaged. You’re smart enough to realize that earth is probably a lot older than 10,000 years and that pre-marital (or non-marital) sex is a lot of fun, but some B.S. still gets through. You don’t swallow all the bull, but you still identify yourself as a follower of a particular religion, most likely because you were raised in it and never actually chose it to begin with.

To you it’s just a casual pursuit. You’re certainly not a die-hard fundamentalist, but you figure that if you drink the wine and chew the wafer now and then, it’s good enough to get you a free ride into a half-decent afterlife. You belong to the pro-God club. Surely there’s safety in numbers. Two people can’t be wrong… although 4-1/2 billion supposedly can.

In this case you become an apologist for your own religion. You don’t want to be identified with the extreme fanatics, nor do you want to be associated with the non-believers. You figure you can straddle both sides. On earth you’ll basically live as a non-practitioner (or a very sloppy and inconsistent practitioner), but when you eventually die, you’ve still got the membership card to show God.

Do you realize how deluded you are?

Perhaps if you have to throw out so much of the nonsense to make your chosen belief system palatable, you shouldn’t be drinking the Kool Aid in the first place. Free yourself from the mental baggage, stop looking to others for permission to live, and start thinking on your own. If your God exists, he’s smart enough to see through your fake ID.

8. Inherited falsehood.

Is your religion based on the inspired word of God? No more than this article. Just because someone says their text is divinely inspired doesn’t mean it is. Anyone can claim divine inspiration. The top religions are decided by popularity, not by truth.

Even the central figures in major religions didn’t follow the religions that were spawned in their names. If they didn’t swallow the prevailing “wisdom” about gods and spiritual leaders and such, why should you?

9. Compassion in chains.

Religious rules and laws invariably hamper the development of conscience. When you externalize compassion into a set of rules and laws, what you’re left with isn’t compassion at all. True compassion is a matter of conscious choice, and that requires the absence of force-backed rules and laws.

The more we collectively abandon all religion, the better off this planet will be. This doesn’t mean we have to abandon all spiritual pursuits. It just means we must stop turning spirituality into something it isn’t.

10. Faith is fear.

Religion is the systematic marketing of fear.

Blessed are the poor (donate heavily). Blessed are the meek (obey). Blessed are the humble (don’t question authority). Blessed are the hungry (make us rich while you starve). Blessed are the merciful (if you catch us doing something wrong, let it go). Blessed are the pure of heart (switch off your brain). Blessed are the timid, the cowardly, the fearful. Blessed are those who give us their power and become our slaves.

That’s the kind of nonsense religion pushes on people. They train you to turn your back on courage, strength, and conscious living. This is stupidity, not divinity.

Religion will teach you to fear being different, to fear standing up for yourself, and to fear being an independent thinker. It will erode your self-trust by explaining why you’re unable to successfully manage life on your own terms: You are unworthy. You’re a sinner. You’re unclean. You belong to a lesser caste. You are not enlightened. Of course the solution is always the same — submit to the will of an external authority. Believe that you’re inadequate. Give away your power. Follow their rules and procedures. Live in fear for the rest of your life, and hope it will all turn out okay in the end.

When you practice faith instead of conscious living, you live under a cloak of fear. Eventually that cloak becomes so habitual you forget it’s even there. It’s very sad when you reach the point where you can’t even remember what it feels like to wield creative freedom over your own life, independent of what you’ve been conditioned to believe.

Fear in one part of your life invariably spreads to all other parts — you can’t compartmentalize it. If you find yourself frustrated because you’re too afraid to follow your dreams, to talk to members of the opposite sex, to speak up for yourself, etc., then a good place to start is to rid your life of all religious nonsense. Don’t let fear get a foothold in your consciousness.

Stop trying to comfort yourself by swallowing religious rubbish. If you really need something to believe in, then believe in your own potential. Put your trust in your own intellect. Stop giving away your power.

Dump the safety-in-numbers silliness. Just because a lot of people believe stupid stuff doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid. It just means that stupidity is popular on this planet. When people are in a state of fear, they’ll swallow just about anything to comfort themselves, including the bastion of stupidity known as religion.

*slightly edited*

#religion #ex christian #atheism #secular thinking #harsh tone but not untrue

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i-write-shakespeare-not-disney · 7 years ago

Text

Only the Stars Remember

Click OP if Read more link won’t show. Feed back very appreciated. Sorry for typos, half asleep.

Click here for the Prologue

Opposing Stones-

The Galra were regal in their own way. Despite their strange purple fur, purple skin, yellow eyes, claws and fangs, they had a sort of composure that spoke power without showing it.

Such was the presence of the Galra Empress in the shuttle. She didn’t wear robes, or a dress, or even a crown. She wore armor. She wore battle gear. And even so, there was no doubt she was royalty.

It was in the way her chin remained raised, her eyes steady on whoever she spoke to. In the way she stood, back straight and a stance that was both defensive and challenging. Demanding respect.

There was a hardness to her features the Altean King and Queen couldn’t quite pinpoint. In the curl of her lip, subtle enough that it wasn’t rude, and the way her ears were pulled back. The clench of her claws and the lack of expression on her face.

“The war has reached a futile point. Neither of our people can continue without completely extinguishing our existences. We must find a way to make peace,” the King said in a firm, but gentle voice. He had a strange lilt to his words, making them almost musical.

“And what do you suggest it to be?” the Empress asked. “Every strive for peace has been rejected, broken. We offered supplies, and you used them against us. We offered land and your people refused to step on it unless it was to hurt my people.” She frowned and her head tilted down only slightly. “Of course, times you offered peace went unwanted as well. Battles broke out instead. One of which resulted in my husband’s death,” she spat, her teeth bared.

“And we empathize with you,” the Queen said curtly, becoming almost defensive as she stepped closer to the King. “We’ve lost many of our own as well. Brothers, sisters, children.” Her voice broke and she took a breath. “We discussed this, and… our son pointed out that each attempt at peace involved a single party. The gifts offered to you were simply to appease you, with no result for us. This may have caused the dissent. And the offers your people provided did the same.”

“Then what do you, or your son, suggest?” she asked in a flat tone.

The King and Queen looked at each other and the latter took a breath before stepping forward to be face to face with the Empress. “An alliance. A union of our people.”

The empress furrowed her eyebrows, her first vulnerable emotion- confusion. “A union?”

“A marriage,” she rephrased. “Preferably between royalty. We have the most influence over our people, the most respect.” She took a breath. “I understand you have a son.”

“Yes. Though he has deep… disdain for your people. I doubt he’d want to marry any of your children.”

The Queen’s jaw clenched, her eyes fluttered momentarily. “Not children. Child. I only have my son left,” she said softly. Her eyes met the Empress’ solid yellow. “I’m afraid the most surprising part of this is not a marriage between Galra and Alteans. It is… the fact they would both be male.”

The Empress frowned and shook her head. “He would never agree,” she growled.

“Even if it would bring peace to our people? End the wars? Is your son not one of the most respected generals as well as a prince? Is he not tired of fighting?”

“Keith has a great amount of anger fueling him,” she answered solemnly. Her heart clenched as she tried to remember the sweet little cub he had been once upon a time… and failed. It had been so long since her son had turned cold and vicious. Her innocent little boy had been replaced by a bloodthirsty war machine. Still, the prospect of peace was there. She raised her eyes to the Queen. “Your son has agreed?”

“He came up with the idea,” the King said from behind the Queen. “He wasn’t aware you only had a son, but when we told him, he said it was a marriage for peace. Not procreation.”

The empress took a deep breath and gave a curt nod. “Keep the ceasefire for the next three quintents. I will return with an answer. Let’s pray it’s a peaceful one.” The Queen nodded and watched as the Empress left the palace.

“My prince, are you certain you don’t want to eat?” he heard a gentle voice say behind him. Lance turned and shook his head, causing the servant to bow and walk away.

He took a shaky breath and ran his hand unconsciously along his forearm. His wound was long healed, hidden under his clothing and flowing robes. Still, Lance found himself sliding his hand over it when he was anxious or upset. He never noticed until he managed to pull his thoughts together.

“Lance,” he heard his father call. He stood up straight, and looked at his parents as they walked into the room in all their royal grace. “We’ve put the suggestion on the table,” he said.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “And? Will it work?”

“We don’t know, my son,” his mother whispered. “The empress agrees with the idea, but she is unsure her son will.” She grimaced slightly. “Are you certain you want to do this? Marry a Galra? Consummate a marriage with one?”

Lance gulped and shut his eyes. I made a promise, he reminded himself. If I could achieve peace, I would. No matter what. He opened his eyes, his answer resolute.

“Yes.”

“Very well,” she answered sadly. “We have three quintents before we receive an answer. That was the deal.” She touched his face gingerly, and Lance could see it in her eyes; she was thinking of his sisters and brothers. Of how alike they looked. Of how they were all dead now.

And now Lance was offering to marry someone from the species that murdered his family.

He pulled away and left the room, aching to be alone in his room. He had to constantly remind himself the Galra were not born murderers. They were not born evil. That to the Galra, it was the Alteans that were evil. He constantly had to remind himself of that Galra boy he had met as a child, the boy he befriended as they hid from the chaos. He had to remember how afraid that boy had been, how innocent.

That was what Galra were like. The war had turned them into what they were now. If Lance took away the war, there would be more children, more Galra like that boy he had met at that strange river. He had to overcome the prejudice. For his people.

For his nameless friend.

There was a fire coursing through his veins. He was in a state of mind that refused to acknowledge anything besides, attack. With each movement, he caused destruction.

He finally stopped when every practice drone, Altean cut-out, holographic target, and steel dummy was on the floor in piles of scraps and rubble. His claws twitched with leftover adrenaline, but he managed to step away and wipe away his sweat.

“General,” a low voice murmured. Keith turned, baring his fangs automatically. “Your mother wishes to see you.”

Keith scowled. She was back. Back from her peace meeting. Back from meeting with those revolting blue striped monkeys. Keith had told her not to go. He’d insisted he could lead his troops to a final victory. He just wanted to extend the bloodbath a little more. He wanted to inflict the pain they had inflicted on him.

Still, she had gone and refused his pleas.

Keith discarded his training uniform and put on his general uniform before going to meet his mother. Stiff back, arms at his sides, blank expression, Keith walked into the throne room and fell to one knee at the first step up to the throne. He had one beside her, but he hadn’t used it too often. He preferred his General status over Prince. Being a general meant he fought. Being a prince meant being calm and collected and patient.

“My son, where are your robes?” she questioned.

“My empress Q’arina, I don’t need them. Permission to stand?”

“Granted,” she said tiredly.

Keith lifted his gaze until he was looking up at her. “So then? Is there peace in the galaxy again?”

She looked at him with a somber expression and clasped her hands together. “Yes,” she whispered. “If… you agree to a condition.” Keith snarled, baring his teeth. “At least hear it before you throw a tantrum.” Keith curled his lip into a scowl and stared at his mother. Only her status as both his mother and his empress kept him from letting his tongue loose.

She took another breath and rose from her chair. He knew this move well. It was the “I-Am-Your-Mother-So-Do-As-I-Say-Young-Man” move. It meant she knew Keith wouldn’t like what was coming, and was already warning him not to dare object.

“A union between our people. We believe a marriage between our royalty will tie our people together and allow peace to settle.” Keith’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening to object. But she went on, ignoring the expression on his face. “The Altean queen has only a son left.”

“You want me to marry a male Altean?” he shouted in disbelief. He barged up the steps until he was face to face with his mother. “Over my dead body,” he snarled. “I’d sooner lead a level one troop against their castle than go anywhere near one without the intent to kill!”

Suddenly his mother cursed in ancient Galran and turned away from him, slumping into her throne. “Don’t you understand?” she cried. “I’m tired, Keith. Everyone is. Of the fighting, the killing, the dying, all of it! We have a chance to end this, why must you be so stubborn?”

“They killed my father!” he roared.

“And the continuation of this war could kill you next!” she shouted, suddenly standing so close to him, Keith momentarily felt like a scolded three year old. Then she broke into tears and cupped his face. “I miss your father. Every single day. But allowing this war to continue means I risk losing you too.” She shook her head, her paws shaking against his face. “I can’t- I won’t lose you too, Keith. If you love me, then please consider this. Bring me peace with the knowledge that I won’t have to send you off to more massacres and battles. That I won’t have to risk losing you.”

“Mother,” he breathed, suddenly less angry, less certain of his answer. “How would that even work? Our bloodlines would end there, I-”

“I don’t know every detail, my son. I told them I would ask you. They gave us three quintents before we had to return with an answer. I assume their prince will be there. We can figure out the questions then.” Keith grimaced. It sounded like a business deal. In a way, he knew it was.

But marriage had never been something Keith wanted or even considered. To him, it would only hold him back. A way to distract him from his goal. And he had always expected to marry a female, to continue the royal bloodline. If he ever married, he assumed it would be for the sake of procreating.

Ironically enough, now that he had to marry, there was no chance of that.

He wanted to say no. To reject the offer and provide a plan of attack instead. But the look on his mother’s face was too painful to ignore. “Mother…. I don’t want to marry. Not just the Altean, but at all. I can’t agree to-”

“You have time to think this over. Put aside your pride for once and be the prince you are. Consider what bringing peace would mean. By the third quintent, I will accept any answer you give me.” He sighed and wondered why she bothered giving him time if she knew he’d still say no. He turned to leave, his body shaking with the urge to return to training, to fight using his anger. But as he neared the exit, his mother’s voice came loud and clear. “You should know, my son, that if your answer is no by the third quintent, that I will agree with you. But I will also revoke your position as a general and demote you to cadet.”

The air left his lungs. And although he had expected the words to cause anger and violence in him, they left him weak and empty instead. He remained frozen there for a moment, unable to move before finally rushing out.

If his status was taken, he could not lead any more battles. Who was he without his power to declare and lead battles? Who was he without his rank?

Tensions were high. There had been no word on behalf of the Galra and the third quintent was almost over. Lance could see the tension in his mother’s face. They could only continue the war for so long before it led to total destruction.

Finally one of the servants rushed into the throne room, face filled with a mix of hope and fear. “They’re here,” he said. The royal family stood immediately and his mother nodded, granting the Galra entrance.

A few moments later, the Empress and Prince were walking in, rigid, dressed in royal robes and cloaks. The prince’s head tilted toward Lance, evidently fixing his eyes on him. His purple lip curled up into a snarl and Lance set his shoulders back, refusing to break eye contact. The closer they got, the softer the Prince’s face seemed to become. Almost solemn.

The Queen stepped down and took a nervous breath. “So then? Have you made a decision?” she asked the Prince.

The two shared a look before the Prince lifted his chin. “Yes.” He gulped and it seemed difficult for him to speak. “I… accept the condition.” A muscle in his jaw jumped and Lance had to gulp as he realized his future husband was a mere few steps away from him.

Even the Empress Q’arina seemed to relax her shoulders and let out a relieved breath as though she hadn’t been certain of her son’s choice. There was still tension in the room, though peace had been reached. It was fragile, Lance knew. It was uncertain. Peace was in their grasp, but neither were certain of what it would entail. Of whether it would succeed.

“Very well then. I believe we have details to discuss.” The Queen turned to one of the guards. “Bring out some food for our… allies. We will have a feast.” She turned to Lance and nodded, beckoning him closer, but Lance noticed the pain in her eyes. She was giving her only son away to a fruitless marriage. “General, this is my son, Prince Lance. Your fiancé.”

Bright yellow eyes looked him over and the rigid stance never left his muscles. “I’m Keith. Galra general and prince.” Lance lowered his head in a respectful bow.

The royal bloodlines sat in a tense circle around a table brought in by servants as food was placed on platters. The betrothed boys sat beside each other, their parents in front of them. After a few moments of picking mindlessly at the food, too overcome with uncertainty to be hungry, Empress Q’arina spoke.

“So what does this marriage entail? What are the terms of this peace treaty?”

“If I may,” Lance spoke glancing at both Galra and his parents. “The point behind the union is to unite our people as well. To show that peace or friendship between our species is possible. We’d be the example encouraging future friendships between our species.” Beside him, the Prince took a sharp breath. “This way, both our people are at stake. There would be peace by respect to us alone.”

“And what exactly,” Prince Keith spat beside him, “do you intend to have happen when we die? We can’t bear children. The royal bloodline would end with us. Then nothing would stop another war from rising.”

“Right, well,” Lance continued, having considered the idea meticulously since he thought of it, “although we’d be unable to procreate, we have servants. It’s not custom to bed anyone besides your spouse after marriage, but our case is certainly… unique.” Prince Keith scoffed, his claws scraping lightly against the table. “So… we could use their help. Bear children to pass down our kingdom to.”

“Of course, that wouldn’t be able to happen until… the two of you consummate your marriage. If only to honor the union,” the King intervened, speaking for the first time.

Both princes flinched at the comment. After so much violence, it was difficult to imagine making love to the other. Especially without the love being there. “And where would they reside? Would they alternate between our planet and Altea? Or live on one or the other?” Empress Q’arina asked, ignoring the more intimate details.

“By my understanding, your empire has suffered great damage. I would suggest the two live here on Altea until enough time is given for your planet to restore itself.”

Suddenly the chair beside him flew back, and his Galra fiancé was hunched over the table, muscles taught beneath his robes, his paws clawing into the table. “First I have to marry one of you. Then you say I have to lie with him. Now you want me to abandon my home? This is not peace, this is coercion!” he growled.

“Believe me, this is not something I want either,” Lance said calmly, standing. “I’d have preferred to marry someone for love. But I have a chance to end this war. To bring peace to my people, to yours. This is my duty as a prince, just as it is yours!”

Keith glared up at him, his resolve breaking as he looked into his eyes. He hated that most Alteans had the same blue eyes. They always reminded him of the girl he’d met as a child. He kept his jaw clenched and glared at him, refusing to back down, but acknowledging the logic in his argument. If anything, Keith would at least bask in the chance to make his life just as much of a misery as it would be for him.

“Well, perhaps this match is more compatible than I thought,” the Empress mused. Keith turned to look at her, the amused expression clear on her face. “So then, as long as these two remain in a peaceful marriage, there is peace between our people. And if anyone breaches the treaty, if anyone attempts an attack, or if anything happens to my son… the treaty is void.” There was an underlying threat to her words. Hurt my child and I will fight until our people are nothing but a memory in the universe. Hurt my people and my son will lead countless armies.

The ferocity was still in her. And Keith loved it.

The Queen nodded. “Precisely. And the same conditions apply to you.”

“So then… should we announce the joyous news?” the King questioned.

Prince Lance glanced at Keith and they each took a breath, letting out in an aggravated huff.

Their parents took it as a yes.

While the Queen left to let the Alteans know to gather for an important announcement, Prince Lance walked over to him and slipped off one of his necklaces. It was a large white stone with blue swirls in a circular pattern. “Take this. As an initial peace offering. It’ll show you are to be trusted.” He held the necklace out by its leather cord.

Slowly, Keith held his hand out as it dropped into his clawed hand. He huffed and put it on unceremoniously, his ears flicking as the cord caught behind one. “I only have this,” he murmured, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out the clear purple stone. The healer had said it had been lodged in his lower back. It was from the river. “It’s very special to me. Don’t lose it.” He held it out between his claws, and he saw the prince’s blue eyes focus on the stone, lips parting. There was a fondness to his look. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Thank you.” He took it and tore off a thin strip of cloth from his own robe and tied the rock to one end, wrapping it safely around before he tied the ends together and hung it from his neck. It glowed purple against his blue and white robes, obviously Galra-based.

Keith looked down at his own new necklace. Obviously Altean.

“My princes,” the Queen said. “It’s time.” They walked out, following after the Queen and King as they walked onto a balcony to greet their people. His mother stood beside him, and Lance on his other side.

“Should we hold hands?” the prince asked, his voice teasing and light, much more different from the tense, serious tone from their meeting.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” Keith growled under his breath. He was vaguely aware of the Queen looking back at them, hand reaching out. They walked forward until Keith could see every Altean crowding together to listen to the news.

Their shock was evident. Their distaste evident in the way they seemed to press closer to their families, scowling up at the balcony. Keith could feel his anger rising again. These people murdered his father. These people tore his home apart. And he was expected to live among them. He could hear the rumble of his growl in his chest, but he kept it back. He knew Lance heard it. He could tell by the twitch of his pointed ear.

“The ceasefire will continue until the union of Prince Lance and Prince Keith.” There was a quiet murmur rippling through the crowds. “After the union of our princes, there will be peace among our people. No more battles, no more war. We will have a celebration, to honor this marriage and this new alliance. Anyone who attempts to breach this pact will be tried for treason. Peace will once again reign in Altea.”

The Alteans seemed as uncertain as Keith felt. Then one of the guards stepped forward and kneeled. “Long live Prince Lance. Long live Prince Keith. Long live peace between our worlds.”

The other Alteans hastily got to their knees and repeated the chant.

“These are your people now too, my son,” his mother whispered in his ear. Keith tried not to feel revolted. He suddenly wished he hadn’t given his stone away. He itched to get it back.

Once the news had spread through Altea, the King joined Lance as they boarded the Galra spaceship to bring the news to the Galra. Keith strapped himself in and leaned back, the white rock heavy on his chest. Beside him, someone strapped themselves in as well, and Keith could tell by the scent that it was Prince Lance. Or, he supposed, simply Lance. It didn’t make sense to continuously call him prince if they were to be married.

He ignored him for a moment, but then he spoke. “So… maybe we should talk. I’d like to get to know my future husband.”

Keith opened his eyes and snarled. “This is a peace move and only that. We don’t have to be friends, much less in love. We simply have to tolerate each other and refrain from killing each other.”

“There’s a phrase that sums up what you said without so much hostility. It goes like this: No thanks.” Keith bared his teeth, but his Altean fiancé only raised an eyebrow. He shook his head and rested back, shutting his eyes.

While Keith couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep, the prince beside him managed to snore within minutes. It was a soft snoring, so Keith didn’t bother trying to wake him. He opened his eyes and looked at him.

He had a strange tint to his hair. Blueish white, and it fell in waves just under his shoulders. The top half was pinned back, exposing his long face and pointed chin and high cheekbones. His skin was dark, though maybe the blue marks under his eyes and on his forehead made him look darker than he was. It was strange. His father had velvety dark skin, the white robes a stark contrast against him. Meanwhile his mother had such light skin, the robes nearly blending with her, only differentiated by the blue lining and embroidery. It seemed that Lance was a perfect blend of the two, reaching a softer, less dramatic tone to his skin. His fingers were long, and there wasn’t a trace of fur or hair on him that wasn’t his eyelashes, eyebrows, or hair. And his eyelashes…. Though his hair was almost white, his eyelashes were dark, fanning around his eyes. Keith knew that beneath those eyelids, the eyes would be a bright blue with whites on the edges and black in the center. Three colors for eyes was unusual.

He sat back and grabbed his necklace, wondering again what had happened to his friend. Being near Alteans for so long had made her prominent in his mind. He had never asked for her. But he’d heard of the kind of punishments that were inflicted upon captives and prisoners. As he grew up and began training in the troops, he knew he would never have a chance to see her again. The one good, innocent being in the universe had been taken, tortured maybe, killed for sure.

Thinking of her, he wondered if maybe this union was the best thing. He could marry in her honor. She couldn’t get the peace she wanted, but Keith was helping end the war. A union that would be an example for all future cross-species unions.

When the ship landed on the Galra planet, Keith shook his fiancé unceremoniously, and the latter woke with a start, and a loud snore. “What?”

“We’re here,” Keith muttered. “Stay close if you don’t want to get mauled.” Lance gulped and remained close enough to Keith that he could feel the warmth of his presence even through the fur. The King stayed by the Empress, and several guards took their places around them so they could be escorted safely.

As they walked, Lance’s eyes seemed to dance around the terrain, looking unsettled by the chasms, the toppled ruins, the barren land which no longer even provided what few rivers they once had. The entire planet was in shambles, rationing food, and the Alteans were having feasts without a care in the world.

“We’re going to fix this, Keith,” Lance murmured beside him. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Princey,” Keith snapped, ignoring the hope rising in his chest. Was his home salvable?

“I always keep my promises,” he said solemnly. Keith frowned, but didn’t question it.

They reached the throne room and the Empress called for a broadcast. She implored every Galra to drop what they were doing and go to the palace. Within 20 dobashes, every Galra who could had congregated in the palace room. Others milled about outside, surrounding the castle. There were many, but in no way was it the number a nation should be.

Lance and the King were waiting in the dark, hidden by guards. Then the Empress stood and everyone quieted. “The war is over,” she announced. “There will be no more battles. No more bloodshed.” Soft whispers began, and she waited for them to quiet down before continuing. “We remain at a ceasefire for the time being. Until the union of your prince and general, Keith... and the sovereign prince of Altea, Lance.” The guards parted and Lance walked out, his shoulders back, his chin raised. He was not afraid. He would not be afraid.

The dissent was evident immediately. “Traitor!” “Blasphemy!” “Kill him!” It was obvious the Galra were quite blood thirsty and impulsive.

It wasn’t until a loud echoing roar shook the very palace walls that they all quieted down. It took Lance a moment to realized Keith had been behind the roar. “Enough!” he shouted. “There is no treason or traitor here. This is an end to our war for our people to prosper. It is a peace treaty and it will be respected! Any who go against the Empress or myself will be the ones charged with treason for endangering our people. Prince Lance and King Jobeth will not be harmed. After the ceremony, he will be your prince too, and you will respect him as such.” Lance raised an eyebrow, surprised that Keith had so easily and quickly defended him.

His glare was terrifying, and with his power, his ranking, Lance pitied anyone who was against it.

Many of the Galra were glaring at Lance, and he met their eyes, refusing to be intimidated. He knew the Galra held fears as well. He knew the innocence of youth. And he couldn’t help but search for that face he’d met when he younger. But his memory was so blurry, especially after the wounds he’d received after, he didn’t think he could recognized his nameless friend if he stood right in front of him. He wasn’t even sure he was alive still.

“Your planet and your people will receive help. The land will be restored, food supplied for sufficient portions, and no more war,” Lance said, his voice stronger than he felt. “Consider this your invitation. Prince Keith and I will be wed within the next four quintents on the land of Altea. We will have a celebration, a feast, and leave with peace among us.”

After the Galra had calmed down and left despite their disapproval of an Altean, Keith slumped into a throne chair in frustration. Lance could hear the bells.

Click here for Ch. 3

#klance #laith #voltron

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