#he's my only OC who has really strange eat and sleep behavior “take what you get” and “sleep where you can” so I love to add it here n there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadow-assassin-blix · 4 years

Text

It’s a Grey Area

Chapter 2:

A/N: ‘Italics’ are thoughts. Warnings? Swear word or two?? Skywalker bashing. OC’s not a fan. Its a bit sad? Talk of parents dying, if thats a warning??

Gif is from @gif-hunts-for-you bless you for your Jessica Lowndes gif sets

It took another 3 hours to finish sorting and doing the inventory, after which Blix sent Amber and Bre on home. There were not many patients in the Med Bay currently, so the night rounds would be quick. Blix was finishing up some paperwork, when she heard someone sigh quietly, near the door. She looked up to see who came in.

“Ben? Come in. What’s-“ Blix began to ask, before noticing the blood dripping from his arm. “Come here. Let me see.” She held out her hands.

He stepped forward and mumbled, “It’s not a big deal, it’s just annoying.”

“Uh huh. Let me be the judge of that,” She stated as she gently rolled up his sleeve. There was a large scrape running along his forearm, that was slowly bleeding and covered in dirt.

“How did this happen?” She asked as she examined it to see how deep it went.

“Luke. Training. He threw me into some trees,” He murmured.

She sighed deeply and began to disinfect it with some pads, before spraying it with Bacta. As she worked, she felt a prod in her mind. Like something was trying to break through her mental barriers.

“Ben, you are lurking without a permit. Get out of my head,” She lightly admonished not looking up at him.

“My apologies. Force of habit,” He replied.

“Mh. One that you need to get rid of. You want to get to know someone, try talking to them. Ask questions. That sort of thing. No one likes their minds being probed, and if you ever did that to Commander Dameron again, no one would stop him from beating your face in,” She remarked as she finally turned to look at him.

“Noted. There’s a lot of mystery surrounding you doctor. No one seems to know your background, nor do you seem to interact with anyone beyond your work. Why is that?” He questioned starring at her intensely, curiosity shining.

“I am not here to make friends. I am here to heal. That’s it. May I give you some advice though, in relation to this?” she gestured to his nearly healed arm. “Just because Luke is your uncle, and sort of your teacher, doesn’t mean you have to constantly take his beatings. I’ve seen your powers. You are strong. Don’t let him get away with this shit, just because you feel like you need to be punished for crimes that you have made amends for with your mother. Forgive yourself and take a damn stand. I didn’t take you for a coward nor do I see a child. An ass, maybe, but not a quitter.”

His face showed no emotion, though his eyes showed some surprise. His only response was to simply pull his arm from her grasp before walking out without another word.

Blix sighed as she cleaned up the mess and then made her way back to her room, her shift over for now. Her room was simplistic, a bed in the center of the room, a small kitchen to the right, refresher, and closet to the left. She had a small desk to work at; books, journals, and scrolls lying everywhere.

She quietly showered and changed into some sweats and a shirt. She thought about making herself something to eat but didn’t have the energy to do so. She laid in bed, starring at the ceiling, wondering to herself, ‘Why did I agree to come here? What exactly is my purpose?’

She thought she knew when she went to med school. Help people, no matter who they are or where they come from and heal them. Now, that purpose, while still important, was fading slowly; an emptiness began to fill her chest and mind. A hole that she pondered over late into the hours, which usually only led to her sleeping for a spell.

She’s not quite sure when she fell asleep, she just knows when she woke up it was about 6am and someone was knocking on her door. She stands up, exhausted to the core, but growing annoyed with constant knocking.

“I’m coming!” She yelled as she walked/wobbled over to the door.

She flings it open to see an officer standing there. “Yes? What is it?”

“The General requests to see you in the Command Center, Dr. Blix,” He informed. “I am to escort you once you are dressed.”

“Joy. Give me like 5 minutes,” Blix replied sarcastically. She closed the door and turned around to go get some get some clothes on. She pulled on some black cargo pants, and a green shirt followed by a long grey cardigan. She threw on some socks and her boots and grabbed her keycard on her way out.

She reopened the door and stepped out with a sigh. The officer then proceeded to lead her to the command center, never once saying another word to her.

As she stepped up to the center, she saw General Organa, Luke stood off to the side with Rey & Ben, and Poe nearby with Finn & Chewy. She heard a small beep and felt a bump to her leg. She looked down to see a familiar orange and white droid who began to beep happily at her attention.

“Hello Beebee. I’m good, how are you?” She quietly asked him, as she gave his head a pat, a small smile on her face. He began to beep his response when a voice cleared their throat loudly stopping it. Her smile froze and quickly disappeared as she straightened up and gave her attention to Leia.

“I am sorry to have awaken you so early doctor, but it has come to my attention that you have never been on a field mission before. Which I found strange when I first heard of it and had to confirm it myself. That changes today,” Leia informed her.

“Come to your attention, you say?” She repeated as she turned her head slowly to Poe, anger and betrayal laced her features, as she glared at him. He had the decency to flinch and look away, as he shuffled behind Finn to avoid her gaze.

“Listen. General. I am a doctor. Not a soldier, a fighter, or a pilot. I am a doctor; I belong in the med bay not out galivanting across the universe. So, you can take whatever mission you are about to shove into my arms, elsewhere. I am not doing it,” She declared and turned away, intending to leave.

“Blix,” Came Admiral Holdo’s voice.

She growled and turned around swiftly, and angrily answered, “Yes Amilyn? What? Let me guess. You once again want to bring up how ‘my parents wouldn’t have approved of my behaviors.’ How if they were alive, they ‘would have been disappointed with how I am reacting’ and that I ‘need to respect my superiors, especially one as admired as her?’ Right?”

Before Holdo could even answer, Blix continued, “Newsflash. They are dead. My father died long before I was even born, on a planet that was blown to smithereens by the Deathstar. My mother died long before I even turned 10.”

Many in the room shifted uncomfortably at this information and Leia stepped forward cautiously, and interjected, “I understand that you have lost a lot in this war, but so have others. I empathize with your pain, I sincerely do. Everyone else understands that the only way to find peace is to fight for it. They fight because they have hope in a better future. They-“

“Save the speech. I am sure it’s quite inspiring to everyone else, but I was raised to be a politician just like you Princess,” Blix interrupted, emphasizing Leia’s previous title through gritted teeth. “I know when I am being fed a line. ‘Rebellions were built on hope?’ You mean rebellions were built on the blood spilt and the dead bodies of the hundreds of thousands of people that died because of YOUR family.”

There were many gasps heard but Blix no longer cared.

“You tell me you understand but, how could you? When your family is the reason why I, hell, why half the galaxy doesn’t exist anymore! Your father reigned terror and death for decades, and you expect me to just, what? Forgive and forget what he took from me? Or forget that it was your idiot brother who tried to attack and kill your son. The son that then turned to the dark side and helped the First Order come to fruition. You and your family are a plague,” She snarled, before turning and exiting the room.

She stormed out of the base and could feel herself lose control. Her mind was raced, adrenaline surged through her as rage continue to bubble in her chest. She took a shaky breath trying to regain control over herself. Her hands shook as a tingling sensation worked through her fingers. Her teeth gritted, and gnawed on her lip as she tried to desperately calm down

She made her way out to the surrounding forest, and eventually found the familiar winding path that she had created in her time here. She followed it for several minutes before it opened out to a small field of flowers. She began to pace frantically up and down, but the rage refused to die down. Taking deeps breaths didn’t work. She couldn’t concentrate long enough to count.

There was only one thing she could do. She turned to a large boulder and raised her hand out to it. She felt a surge of energy as the Force surrounded her and as she clenched her hand closed, the boulder exploded into many pieces.

The energy released left her slightly drained. She was breathing heavy as she stood there. She collapsed to her knees; head bowed, exhausted. Her vision swam a bit and she could feel tears build up.

“Now, what exactly did that boulder do to you?” a warm voice asked.

Blix jerked her head into the direction of the voice, “Grandfather?”

A pale, ghostly blue figure, a Force Ghost, stood there in her small sanctuary. He moved to sit before her and gave her a soft smile.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you don’t often appear before me,” she quietly inquired.

“Your rage could be felt even amongst the dead. My dear heart, why are you doing this to yourself?” He gently questioned.

“Not quite sure I know what you mean,” Blix replied, not making eye contact with him.

“Don’t play coy. You know what I mean. You have been holding a part of yourself back for years. You have built this wall to hide who you really are. Your soul is tearing itself apart as you deny your destiny,” He chastised.

“Destiny? What destiny? My destiny to wind up dead for being within the same star system as a Skywalker?” Blix scoffed, her eyes rolling.

With a small sigh, he reached out and flicked her on the nose. She blinked rapidly and slowly reached up to cover her nose as it lightly throbbed with pain. ‘Ow.’

“Enough of that. You were destined to be a Jedi. Your powers cannot be held back anymore. There will come a time when you will have to use them, and those walls will come crashing down. Stop fighting who you are meant to be. Your soul and mind are at war with one another. That void you keep feeling? The restless nights? That is your power trying to break free. It is only going to get worse unless you start accepting it.” He urged her, trying to get her to see reason.

“I just..” She struggled to articulate her feelings. There was so much she wanted to say to the man she only knew from his journals and had only seen in her dreams. Tears formed again and fell down her cheeks. She hastily wiped them away not wanting him to see.

“I know. Time was cruelly stolen from us. There are many things I wish I could have taught you personally, but you have done so well on your own. You were destined for greatness. Are you going to continue to fade away in obscurity or are you going to be the Jedi you were meant to be?” He questioned, pressing a kiss to her forehead before fading away.

Blix sighed heavily. She sat there for an hour maybe two, mulling things over in mind, before she got up. The rage had died down and the world slowly came back into focus, and the sounds of the forest grounded her. All that could be heard was the wind rustling leaves, birds chirping. Off in the distance, she could hear the flight deck come to life as pilots fired up their ships for takeoff or engineers began their work.

She made her way back out of the forest, and over to the flight decks. She could see Poe and Chewie were getting the Falcon ready. She took a deep breath, and as much as she didn’t want to, she swallowed her pride and move toward them.

She stood before them, cleared her throat, and inquired, “Ahem. So. What’s this mission about?”

Poe, upon hearing her voice, stopped in his tracks, and looked at her stunned. After a moment, a smile broke out on his face. “Get on board, and I’ll tell ya on the way, gorgeous.”

She smiled back softly and greeted Chewie as she walked up the ramp, the two of them following behind a moment later. Chewie walked into the cockpit to get the ship fired up, as Poe stood next to her. She bit her lip as she tried to figure out what to say to him. Should she explain? Should she apologize?

Poe stopped her train of thoughts when he reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. She tried to focus on what he was telling her and not on how warm his hand felt, or the small callouses that gently soothed over her own hand. ‘Such different lives we’ve lived.’ She thought.

“We are going to meet up with a possible informant who may have intel on the First Orders next plan of action,” he quickly informed. “You and I are going to pretend to be a couple while there so as not to raise suspicion. Simple mission. Very easy. I promise nothing will happen.”

She nodded her head, and as she stared at him, she knew he wanted to remark on what happened earlier. He sighed and looked down for a second and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. He eventually looked up and gazed into her eyes.

“Listen, I’m not going to ask you about the stuff you said this morning, unless you feel comfortable about it. I do want to say. I am sorry for going behind your back and requesting you for this mission, without talking to you first. That was a dick move, and I hope you can forgive me,” He apologized.

She bit her lip for a moment, and with a nod replied, “Apology is noted. Acceptance is pending.”

He pouted for a second, before it switched to a smirk and he stepped closer to say something else, but Chewie roared that the Falcon was ready to go and that they needed to leave soon.

“To be continued?” she offered with a small smile.

His smile was the only answer she needed, and they headed toward the cockpit. Poe sat in the co-pilot seat, she in the seat behind him, and seconds later they were off.

It took about an hour to get to Cantonica, headed toward a town a few miles outside of Canto Bight. As soon as we landed, Poe stood up and said, “Come with me.”

She followed him over to one of the sitting areas. Blix took off her cardigan and threw it on the table to cool down a bit, as he opened a draw and withdrew a spare blaster. He turned to her and held it out for her to take.

“Um. What’s this for?” Blix hesitantly asked, stepping back a bit.

“For you. For your own protection,” He answered still holding it out to her.

“I.. I’ve never used a blaster before Poe. I..I’m not sure this is a good idea,” She admitted, shaking her head and rubbing her arm anxiously.

Poe smiled softly, “It is only for emergencies. In case we get separated. I just want to be sure that you are armed in the off chance that we run into trouble. Just point and shoot. I don’t suspect trouble, but I would rather be assured that you are safe and armed.”

He turned back to the drawer and pulled out a belt with a holster attached to it. He placed the blaster into the holster before he turned back around to her. “May I?” he politely asked gesturing to her.

Blix shifted for a moment, still not quite sure of this but she knew that there was a possibility that it could go wrong. She nodded and held her breath as Poe stepped forward, leaning over her slightly as he wrapped the belt around her. He quickly secured it to her asking, “Is this too tight?”

“No, its fine,” She responded. “Tell me, does it clash with my outfit?”

He huffed out a laugh at her question and stepped back to fully examine her. “Looks perfect on you. Shall we get going?” He asked as he grabbed his own blaster.

As they stepped onto the ramp leading out, the heat of the planet hitting them immediately, Poe stopped and turned to her slightly.

“Also. Out here, you follow my lead. This isn’t the med bay, and I am your commanding officer. Got it?” He firmly demanded.

The sudden shift in personality caused Blix to blink in surprise, because suddenly he wasn’t Poe Dameron, flirty flyboy. He had switched to Commander Dameron, respected officer of the Rebellion. She felt the need to tease him a bit, “Got it… Commander.”

They moved forward and began to make their way to the meet, a shady cantina. Blix slowly moved closer to Poe and muttered, “Put your arm around me, we’re meant to be a couple, yeah?”

He casually wrapped his arm her shoulders and she tucked herself into his side, arm wrapped around him, her thumb hooked into one of his belt loops, to rest.

After a few minutes they arrived at the cantina and were making their way to an empty table. As they took a seat side by side, Poe informed her that they were looking for human, who goes by the name Crixus. They had arrived early, and ordered drinks to not raise suspicion, sipping at them lightly.

A moment of silence had passed when Poe commented without looking at her, “So an orphan eh? Didn’t really see that one coming.”

She chuckled, somewhat bitterly. “Yeah. My mother was an ambassador who made a lot of enemies really quickly. She uh.. was killed by a bounty hunter. I wasn’t there, I was…elsewhere. I was about to turn eight. My mother never really spoke much about my father, all I know is he died on Scarif. I haven’t had the stomach to look her stuff and find out more,” She explained, finding a spot on the table, suddenly fascinating.

“Scarif? Like. Rogue One? He was a part of that? Wow!” He said amazed before adding, solemnly “I lost my mother when I was eight. Dad’s still around but I haven’t really seen him much since I joined the cause. I keep her close to my heart though.” He tugged at the chain of the necklace he wore.

“That ring is your mother’s? I always wondered but I never felt right asking about it,” She admitted, looking at him, as she bit her lip.

“Yeah. I plan to one day give it to the girl I want to marry,” Poe revealed. “I have a fairly good idea who I want to marry eventually. I just can’t seem to figure out if she feels the same way about me.”

She looked away, not really wanting to hear him describe who it is he clearly had feelings for and went with a simple, “Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s stubborn, and beautiful. Keeps refusing my dates and cites regulation at me. Though last time she didn’t do that, and it gave me hope that she is interested.” He continued offhandedly.

A smile slowly appears on her face, alongside a blush that she tried to hide. He gently cupped her face and turned her to look him in the eyes. “I’m going to guess by that pretty smile and lovely blush I see that that’s a yes?”

Before she could answer, someone loudly sat down across from them. They pulled away from each other and looked to see a human male, with dirty blonde hair, and multiple scars running along his face sitting there.

“Crixus?” Poe asked to confirm his identity.

He nodded and as they began to speak, Blix couldn’t help but to feel a nagging sensation inside her head. Something was off, something was wrong. As she examined the man before them, she slowly heard it. It was faint, and she had to focus to fully hear it. It was a beeping noise. A rapid beeping. Like that of a-

“Poe,” She interrupted. “Stop talking to him. Who sent you?”

“I don’t know what yer talkin ‘bout lady. No one sent me,” Crixus denied.

“Oh really?” She pondered mockingly, before she made her move.

She reached over, grabbed his head with both of her hands and slammed it down onto the table, hard. He was knocked unconscious, and she pushed at Poe to get out of the seat, urgently.

“Wh-what the hell was that? He was about to give us valuable information!” He protested as they both stood up and she leaned over Crixus.

She reached around into Crixus’ pockets and after a moment, she found it. A fob.

“He’s a bounty hunter, and we’re the bounty. We have to go now!” She exclaimed, as she dropped the fob on the ground and stomped on it to break it.

Poe grabbed her hand, and they made their way out of the cantina. They went a different route back to the Falcon. It led them down a path to an open market area, that quickly filled with stormtroopers, who recognized them immediately, and began to fire upon them.

Poe shoved into her an alleyway and he took to the opposite side, occasionally taking shots at the troopers.

“’A simple mission’ you said. ‘An easy mission’ you said. ‘Shouldn’t run into any trouble,’” She yelled over at him.

“I know! I’ll make it up to you!” He promised as he took a few more shots.

They were quickly being outnumbered. Poe was a good shot, but more and more were appearing. Her thoughts ran rampant, as she tried to figure out how to get them out of this. A plan that would get them to safety. A gust of wind blew, carrying a whisper, “You know what to do.”

‘Really hitting this on the nose, eh gramps?’

She straightened up, closed her eyes trying to focus and muttered to herself once, “I am one with the Force, the Force is with me.”

When she reopened them, she could feel the Force surrounding her, the energy crackling. She stepped out and walked toward the open market; ignoring Poe’s attempts to gain her attention.

As she stepped out, multiple troopers fired their blasters at the same time. She raised her hands, in front of her face, stopping them midair. They hovered for a mere moment before she threw her arms forward, sending the shots backwards into the troopers. As they fell, she threw her right hand out to her left, and then to her right, knocking those troopers back into walls and various objects.

The coast was clear, for now. She leaned forward, her hands on her knees, exhausted. Her energy drained, and she felt a bit lightheaded. Poe, at some point, walked up next to her and stared at her in awe.

She stood up, ignoring how tired she felt, and said, “C’mon. The Falcon isn’t far, and I don’t want to wait for more to appear, or for these guys to wake up.”

She began to walk away but she only got a few feet before she realized Poe wasn’t following. He was still standing there, gaping.

“You’re… you’re a Jedi?” He wondered.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Let’s go,” she said turning back around, striding away.

Poe ran to catch up to her, and inquired, “You’re really just going to ignore my question? Blix? C’mon, you gotta explain that to me?”

They were finally getting near the launchpad that held the falcon, but stormtroopers were marching their way. They stopped short, and Blix uttered a small, “Fuck.”

He looked at her, then pushed her to a nearby wall. “Kiss me.”

“What?” She spluttered.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. So. Kiss. Me.” Poe demanded through gritted teeth, as the troopers got closer to them.

She quickly leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Blix wrapped her arms around his neck, as his found her waist, before pulling her closer. She couldn’t deny the butterflies that had built in her stomach and were fluttering chaotically. He made her feel warm and safe within his embrace.

The stormtroopers passed but they failed to notice it, far too wrapped up into each other for the moment. It wasn’t until they pulled apart, gasping for breath, that they realized they were free to move on.

She pulled away from him so they could finally begin their hasty walk to the Falcon. As they rushed back on, Poe yelled for Chewie to get on the gunners, as the ramp closed.

Poe has her follow him into cockpit and shoved her over to the co-pilot seat. He pointed out which switches and buttons to hit to fire the ship up as they heard the familiar roar of TIE-Fighters entering the atmosphere. They took off but the path had a squadron of TIEs coming straight for them.

Poe dodged them left and right, trying to help Chewie line up shots to take them out. Several went down quickly but there was still a couple on their tail. They were flying out over canyons, and Blix vaguely recognized the area, and a terrible idea came to mind.

“Poe. I have an idea but it’s a little crazy,” she hesitantly informed.

“I have been told my middle name is crazy, so let’s hear it doll. Preferably before we are shot out of the sky,” He grunted as they were hit.

“See that crevice there? Dive into it.” She commanded pointing to a crevice that was coming up to them on their left.

He followed her directions, straight into a crevice that was only just barely wide enough for the falcon to fit through. They heard a couple of crashing noises from above, but they still had one TIE on them.

The narrow canyon, had them dodging rock formations left and right, and he yelled at her, “My trust in you is waning a bit, what the hell does this open up to?” As the falcon scraped several times along the wall.

“You’ll see. Go for that large opening,” She replied with a wince, pointing slightly to their right.

He does and as they breakthrough they enter an underground city of sorts, full of bright lights and towers everywhere. There was only one path, that she confirmed he needed to follow. The path was somewhat narrow but allowed enough space to dodge hits.

“Blix. Please do not tell me we need to go down that,” He asked worried, as he looked ahead.

“That” was a dark tunnel, that was named the Tunnel of Death (and labeled on the wall in bright lights), that they were swiftly coming upon.

“Yep. Just.. listen to me when I tell you to start pulling up, because it’s a straight drop, that suddenly curves,” Blix advised with a grimace. “Chewie! Buckle up, this is going to be rough!” She yelled toward the back, as she too buckled in, Poe following.

As they dropped down into the hole, they are plunged into absolute darkness. Blix was quietly counting to herself how long it had been since they began their descent. ‘1, 2,3, 4, 5,6.’

“Poe. Start Pulling up,” She told him as her mental countdown got to 7 seconds

He does so, and as they continued to straighten back out; they hear a final crash as the TIE flew directly into the ground. They soon saw cracks of light as they made their way to the exit, and finally flew back out into the open air. They flew until they had left Cantonica’s atmosphere, before jumping into hyperspace.

Once we were safe in hyperspace, Poe turned to her questions written on his face.

She smiled sheepishly, as she rubbed the back of her neck. “So. Did I ever tell you I was a bit of a wild child?”

He threw his head back and laughed, which caused her to laugh as well. As he sobered up, he replied, “No. Failed to mention that tidbit. What was that and how the hell do you know about it?”

“It’s an old pod racetrack. The entrance is back in the middle of Canto Bight, but I heard that there were secret entrances in the canyons. So, I was kinda going off my memory, hence why I said it was little crazy.” Blix confessed with a smile. “My mother used to tell me that while I looked like her, I had my father’s personality. His tendency to be super serious with a side of devil-may-care. I fell in love with podracing when I was like 4? And my best friend’s father was a mechanic, so we built a podracer. My first race I came in second place.”

Poe shook his head in amazement. “You are a mystery wrapped in an enigma,” He began and with sudden realization continued, “That’s. That’s where you were, when your mom died, isnt it? The “elsewhere?””

She nodded her head, with a sad sigh. “She uh.. wasn’t thrilled by new hobby, but she supported it. Said if I’m going to lose, do so spectacularly, and win as often as possible. I was in Kergans, it was a huge race. 19 other competitors, a huge purse as the prize. I was one of the last 5 pods to survive in total, the regular champ was an asshole who liked to cheat and play dirty. He got his comeuppance, when I knock him into a wall, and he lost an engine. My victory lap when I crossed the finish in first was cut short when I was informed that she had been killed on her way to watch me. Never raced again after that,” Blix divulged, leaning back into her chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Then Holdo’s family took you in?” Poe connected.

“Yep. Amilyn was alright living with. Her mother…not so much,” Blix trailed off.

“What? What was she like? Though, knowing the admiral I assume she was not great,” He admitted with a frown.

Blix sighed heavily, “Maureen. She uh. Didn’t care for frivolity. She made sure that I became a ‘proper young lady.’ She practically beat into my head that love was a fairytale and happy endings were not real. Marriages were meant to move power around and change alliances. Dating was not in the cards. Only courting with potential suitors.”

She rolled her eyes heavily at the memories of Maureen scolding her.

“Which.. is why I have been difficult every time you ask me out. I just.. I was conditioned to not accept potential romantic dalliances. I. She. Its difficult for me to get over that. I am trying to move past it, just.. be patient with me please?” she quietly pleaded struggling to explain, as she looked over at him.

He smiled softly. “I’ll wait however long you need me to,” he promised.

“I am sorry if I often seem cold or detached as well. I’m not trying to act bitchy or hoity toity. I just grew up with a hard woman who believed in all things rational and refused to acknowledge anything that suggested emotion,” She apologized her shoulders dropping.

His reply was immediate, “Apology is noted. Acceptance pending.”

She shook her head with chuckle, as he referred to their earlier conversation.

“So… that’s explained. You going to tell me about the Jedi thing?” He queried an eyebrow raised.

“I still have no idea what you are talking about,“ Blix replied standing up. ‘That is not a conversation I want to have with anyone honestly.’

He sighed annoyed at her dismissal of his question again and goes for instead “Okay. Then how about the kiss?”

“What about it?” Blix asked as she got to the doorway of the cockpit.

“What did you think about it?” Poe clarified turning his chair to follow her movements.

She thought about it for a moment, jokingly humming in contemplation, before she responded, “It was good.”

“Good? Just good? What do you mean by that!?” He spluttered not expecting that response.

“Yeah. Good. I’m sure the next one will be better,” She hinted with a smile as she skipped out.

Chewie made his way inside, and Poe hears her apologize for the bumpy ride she led them on. He responded in kind, gently roaring that it was okay.

As Chewie took his seat in the copilot, Poe stared out into the hallway for a moment longer, still processing what just happened.

“Next time?” he whispered. He nods his head several times before he turned back around to face the front. “I’m going to marry that woman. I’m going to marry her, she will tell me all her secrets, and I will die a happy man. It’s going to happen. Yeah.” He muttered to himself as he focused on the controls.

As they dropped out of hyperspace, they informed base that they were about to land. The moment the Falcon was on the ground, Blix made her way off. Poe followed after her, sensing she was going to try and make a quick getaway.

“Hey- wait a minute!” He called out grabbing her arm, stopping her. “Seriously though. You can use the Force? Why are you trying to hide this?”

“Poe. Stop. We are not talking about this,” Blix scolded glancing around, hoping no one heard him.

She pulled her arm away and walked away from him. Poe was determined though- he was going to get her to talk to him. He chased after once more and grabbed her hand again.

“I just- I don’t understand! You have this power and you’re not using it!?” He beseeched looking her in the eyes, searching for an answer.

Blix huffed and held her hand to up to his face and gently waved it, as she commanded softly, “You did not see anything.”

He stared blankly at her and repeated, “I did not se- Wait!” He blinked and shook his head violently. “Did you just… try to Jedi mind wipe???” He asked confused but excited.

Blix groaned loudly and clenched her fist at her failed attempt to use the Mind Trick, swearing softly as she turned and tried to once again walk away.

He ran after her and as he reached out to grab her arm once more, she turned to him suddenly and angrily growled out, “Poe. If you grab at me one more time, I will hurt you.”

“Oh? You going to use the Force and push me away?” He teased and held his arms out, waiting.

“No. I’ll just do this,” She stated seconds before she threw a punch out, hitting him in the stomach.

He leaned over and grabbed at his stomach as the pain (and shock) swept through him. She then dropped down and swung her leg out to sweep his legs out from under him. As he landed on the ground, she stood back up, dusted herself off, and headed to her room. She locked herself into her room and stayed there for the rest of the day, collapsed onto her bed, and passing out as the day’s event hit her.

As Poe laid on the ground, gasping for air, and trying to blink away the pain, Finn slowly moved over to him. Finn squatted down and asked, “Do I want to know what that was about?”

Poe propped himself up onto his elbows and looked at Poe with a dazed smile, and commented, “Finn. I’ve met my future wife.”

“Your future wife just knocked you on your ass. How do you feel about that?” Finn teased as he held his hand out for Poe to take to help him back up.

“Strangely alright,” Poe replied with a smirk, as he took Finn’s hand and got up with his help.

Rey stepped forward as well, confusion written on her face. “I’ll tell ya later. In private. I have to go to the mission brief. We’ll meet up at my place for dinner, it’s a doozy. Hell, I’m still wrappin my head around it,” Poe requested as he looked at them both.

His thoughts were scrambled, ‘Orphan. Podracer. Jedi. Podracer. Jedi. She likes me back but isn’t used to affection. Jedi. The kiss. Jedi.’ As he gave the mention brief, he left out her powers and the kiss, and told Leia that she did well under pressure, and if weren’t for her recognizing the sound of the fob, they would probably be dead. Though that did beg the question.

“Why was a bounty hunter sent after us? Very few people knew about this mission, and it was only planned a day ago. So why were they after us?” Poe inquired lowly to Leia, so no one else could hear.

“Those are very good questions Commander. Questions that need to be answered. Fast. Figure it out Commander,” Leia ordered quietly.

Poe nodded his head in affirmation and began to review who all knew about this mission, retracing his steps since this mission came to them. It was going to be a long night for the Commander.

#poe dameron x oc #chapter 2 #this wound up being #6.4k #how???#I...#this was not the plan #but here we are #star wars #poe dameron #original character #fix it au

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ghost-chance · 4 years

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Fanfiction Recommendation: “Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous” by MoofyKitten

Title: Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous Author: MoofyKitten on AO3/FFN/Wattpad Fandom: BNHA/My Hero Academia Rating: M/MA for a reason. (Detailed sex in over half the posted chapters. Perv away only if you’re of age!) Pairing(s): Fat Gum [Toyomitsu Taishirou] / OFC Found on: AO3

Deets Expect some light spoilers and a mini-rant.

I am an unrepentant fanfiction addict; this is no secret. There are fics I read to wind down after a rough day, fics I read to put myself to sleep in hopes of pleasant dreams, and fics I read to tear my hear into teeny tiny fragments then build it back again better than before. THEN there are fics that don’t fit the mold – the kind that I become so invested in that I physically cannot put off reading that update. THIS, my lovelies, is one of THOSE fics, and it’s earned that place from the early chapters. This story has almost everything I need from a fanfiction, and I have a feeling the rest is just around the corner.

Let’s get the basics out of the way.

The Spelling, grammar, and punctuation are all excellent – I have yet to notice a single error, so either the author and her betas are a force to be reckoned with or I’m just getting so sucked into the story an elephant could sit on me and I’d never notice. The formatting is effective and easy to follow, and the chapters have all been of a nice meaty length, perfect for plowing through in a single sitting only to realize you missed a meal and it’s time for bed and your brain is hopelessly lost in ship-land daydreaming about what’s up next. ...wait, that’s just me? My bad.

Syntax – This one requires an entire section of its own. The fact that I’m having to actually think about how well the author’s varying their syntax says they’re effing nailing it. If a story’s syntax is at all static or the sentence even the slightest bit predictable, it’s easy enough for me to recall it because I’m mentally rearranging the bits that irk or don’t impress me as I read. I can’t even get through a bleepin’ news article or an online recipe without itching to push what I’m reading up to the standards my professors held. It sounds harsh, I know, but please take my word for it when I say I’m not criticizing anyone. Suffice it to say, if my classes did anything, they made editing so instinctive I can’t turn it off. Confession: I have never found myself rearranging a single phrase in this masterpiece. Arguing with the characters? Encouraging the characters? Begging, pleading, and berating the characters for breaking my heart time and time again by stopping just short of the sugary fluff I can just smell right around the corner? Oh, Hell yes. I’ve done all of that and more, but I’ve never found myself with the urge to grab my red pen and strike out or scooch even a single word.

Something that strikes me about this story above others I’ve given the same rating (Spoiler: there are VERY FEW!) is the sheer variety of the scenes and environments. Sounds silly? Probably, but romances often develop a certain amount of location stagnation, and I know from personal experience how difficult it can be to bust through those patterns. (I mean, the majority of “A New Lease on Life” takes place in the Lair in some room, most commonly a bedroom, the lab, or the kitchen.) This story takes the couple off of familiar and ‘safe’ turf like homes and offices and drags them through countless other places without regard for their sense of comfort. Each scene feels real and multi-dimensional and directly or indirectly influences the characters’ behavior and reactions. It’s awesome. That’s a sign the author has done her people-watching!

Now, about that OC. I’ll readily admit, in the first chapter, I had my reservations. At first glance she seemed shallow, obsessed with appearances and her own view of the world, and – strange as it may sound – too skinny and too attractive. Yes, there’s some personal bias involved there, but the majority was practical rather than emotional. BUT! Because the writer of this story is the same who unleashed the beautiful Kacchako torment Hot-Headed upon me without a single breath of remorse, I gave Aiko a chance. Sure enough, my first impressions were entirely incorrect. The things that bothered me about Aiko? They all had explanation or purpose, and she’s turned out to be a pretty well-fleshed out character...pun intended. As the story progresses we’re seeing sides of her that I hoped for but didn’t expect and each chapter leaves me wondering what we’ll learn next.

Romantic connection. First word: “OOFTA.” The second word, I’d spell out, but it’s a shrill, wordless, begging whine that I cannot translate into English for the life of me. This pairing starts without any sort of romantic connection; it skips straight to the shenanigans and leaves hope that the snugglebunnies will follow eventually. Friends…if you’ve read any of my writing before, you’ll know that I. LIVE. For. The. FLUFF. The awkward mush, the sweaty palms, the am-I-gonna-barf-or-do-I-have-a-crush, the absolutely tooth-rotting sweetness capable of sending a reader headlong into diabetes with a dopey grin and heart eyes - they’re my crack and I love them. This story started with no fluff but it’s been slowly developing in the background. It’s an entirely new situation for me! I feel like I’ve gotten used to eating my dessert first then digging into an equally sweet dinner without a moment to cleanse my palate. This story? It’s like gorging on smoky, meaty St. Louie barbecue for weeks on end with literally just a smear of something sweet as an afterthought. Mind. Frackin’. BLOWN. It turns out I’m more masochistic as a reader than I ever suspected.

Another relationship I want to cover is the building friendship between Aiko and Fat Gum – because nope, she has not managed to mentally connect the half-starved Taishiro she’s climbing like a tree with the big-and-beautiful Fat Gum who owns the agency. Yep. She thinks she’s boning Fat’s beefy little brother. It’d be funny if my heart wasn’t whining for fluff. While frustrating to fluff-starved readers, Aiko not knowing the beefcake and the brother are one and the same provides an intriguing and natural way for her to build an actual relationship with him. This means none of the fetishistic bullarkey rampant in other stories pairing plus-sized male characters with OCs.

What sort of fetishistic bullarkey am I talking about? To name a handful: I love you so lose weight. I love you because you’re big. I’m fat too so it’s okay if we’re together. Blatant fat-fetish disguised as romance. Fat character’s life absolutely revolves around food and it’s gross/nvm it’s okay. Lastly, OC’s only chance at being loved by fat character is feeding them. Maybe to thin folks those don’t sound negative but to those of us who fit the description? NOPE. These don’t make healthy relationships. Using these can turn a well-meaning pairing toxic and frankly, it tends to piss off those of us who – GASP! - accept ourselves no matter our size. These...tropes, let’s call them, have made me hesitant to even try fiction involving plus sized male characters because I’ve been let down so many times. Finding plus sized female characters is easy, especially OCs, but appreciation for the chonky bois isn’t nearly as common. They need love too, dammit!

Ahem. Rant over.

As mentioned before, I ain’t seen any of that crap in this story. This author is treating Fat Gum like she would any other character instead of focusing on the fat. I wish with all my heart that more authors were capable of (and willing to) do the same with Fat Gum, and with other plus sized male characters. I can’t even put into words how much it means to me that she’s doing such a fantastic job portraying a character type that so many writers bungle without ever realizing it. I’ve needed this story my entire life and never realized it wasn’t there; I shudder to think of how long I might have been waiting for it if this author never found the inspiration to do so.

If I don’t shut up now, I fear I never will. I love this story that much. Moving on.

Warnings

Explicit sexual content – do NOT read this around your family unless you have a stronger will than I and can do so without creeping them out. (According to my husband, when I read smut I “look like a demented vulture staring down at a half-flattened ‘possum waiting for it to take its last breath,” complete with hunched shoulders and heavy breathing. Flattering, I know.) The smut scenes, while not my usual cuppa tea, wreck. My brain? Broke. Chapter four’s budding romance? It’s goin’ on my headstone ‘cuz I’m dead.

There are mentions of human trafficking and the future may include more about it. Slut-shaming comes up a few times because men are assholes and asshole exes are the ultimate assholes. Situational fat-shaming and lack of body confidence come up as Aiko comes to recognize Fat Gum for who he is instead of what he is; on the other end of the tag, Fat is also doing a lot of it to himself even when it isn’t spelled out. You can see it behind some of his reasoning in his POV chapters and since the writer is kickass at portraying thoughts and feelings without ever breaking out of restricted POV, you can also see hints in other chapters. That said, if the shaming was really bad without any redeeming purpose, I’d have noped my way right out’a that fic and never looked back. It has a purpose, and it’s not that bad. Give it a chance.

Recommendation level

This story lacks purple prose and excessive fluff, and I haven’t seen any signs of the pop culture, literary, and music references I love so dearly, but the rating remains the same:

Ten. Out. of. Farking. TEN!

YES! I’ve finally found another 10/10!!! A quick reminder for anyone who’s managed to not see my other reading recc posts, I don’t even need both hands to count off all the 10/10s I’ve read. Congratulations, Ms. MoofyKitten – your story rocks my world and I have an addiction I do not care to shake!

#fanfiction recommendation #BNHA #My Hero Academia #body postivity #Fat Gum #mature fanfiction #Plus size guys need love too #this story is KILLING ME #and I'm loving every minute of it because I'm weird like that #i stayed up for this

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ladyfogg · 4 years

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May I? - 16/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @tinakolesnik

Faith was distraught.

One minute she's curled up beside Data, falling asleep and the next she woke up groggy and disoriented in a strange room.

It was a surprisingly nice room, with a large bed and all the furnishings of the guest room on a starship. Faith could see the blackness of space outside her window.

As her mind began to clear, she realized with a stab of fear that she was alone.

"Data? Data?!"

She tried to stand but her world spun and she fell back down onto the surprisingly comfortable bed.

I've been drugged, she realized with a start.

The after-effects were clear. Her brain felt like it was surrounded by fog and lifting even her hand was a chore.

"What is going on?" she asked herself, trying to remain upright. Even her words were slurred.

She had to get out of there and find Data. He'd know what to do and more importantly, seeing him would let her know he was safe. She could feel the onset of an anxiety attack, but she pushed it down, repressed it because now was not the time.

The door to her room opened and a man marched in. He was clearly Zibalian and wore expensive-looking clothes, along with an expression of pure delight. He was shorter than her but held himself with such authority that she didn't realize it at first.

"Hello there. Have a nice nap?" he asked, chuckling at his own joke.

"Who are you and where the hell am I?"

"My dear, I am the Kivas Fajo, at your service." He extended a bow her way as if waiting for recognition.

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"I'm sure Mr. Data has spoken of me before."

Faith felt a sense of dread when he mentioned Data's name. "Can't say that he has."

Fajo paused. "Really? Not once."

"No." Faith forced herself to stand. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"Data is safe and sound, for the time being," Fajo said, folding his hands behind his back.

"I don't believe you."

"Understandable. I figured you would need a visual."

He removed a remote from his pocket and pressed a button. The wall behind him changed into a view screen and Faith sighed with relief when she saw Data. He seemed unharmed and even turned towards the screen.

She couldn't hear him but the way his lips moved, she knew he had said her name. She made a move towards the screen when Fajo stopped her, throwing his arm around her waist and yanking her to his side.

"See? Completely unharmed. And both of you shall remain that way so long as Data does exactly what I ask of him."

Faith pushed Fajo away. "You have no idea what you've done! When Starfleet hears about this…"

Fajo groaned and waved his hand as he wandered away from her. "You sound just like Data the first time I collected him. Starfleet this and Starfleet that. Let me save you the trouble: they don't know where you are and aren't even looking for you. Neither of you is going anywhere."

"What do you want with us?"

"Nothing with you. Well, almost nothing. I didn't realize how important you could be."

She didn't like the way he sounded or his smirk. Her eyes went back to Data who watched them with his usual unreadable expression. Though his eyes tracked Fajo's movements.

"See, Data and I have done this dance before. Since he failed to educate you, let me. I am a collector of rare, one-of-a-kind things. I tried to add Data to my collection three years ago and he managed to get me arrested. My collection was seized and I was thrown in prison."

His voice lost its amusement and his expression turned cold. When he looked back at her, there was anger in his eyes.

"Thankfully, it helps to have friends in high places. Well, one friend. I told Data that he would become part of my collection again and I've finally made that possible."

"How? I don't understand."

Fajo clapped. "That I am quite proud of. See while you were all busy searching the Enterprise for whatever was going on, you neglected to search the shuttles. My little friends were able to make some modifications to bring you to the right place at the right time. Then once the backup life supports kicked in, sleepy time for you. It was just lucky Data was powered down at the same time. Although, I've had a string of good luck lately."

"Friends? What friends?"

Fajo smirked and pressed a button on the comm panel on the wall. "Enter."

The doors open, an alien shuffled in carrying a tray. It was the same type of alien they had found aboard the Enterprise, though this one seemed more docile and subdued.

"Faith, meet the Oz'ods. One of them at least. There are only a few left in existence. They were never really able to sustain their numbers and all but six perished. Their natural cloaking ability makes them hard to detect but I managed. And now, they serve me."

The Oz'od placed the tray of food down on a small table by the bed and remained there, waiting for further instruction.

"Thank you, that'll be all." Fajo waved them off.

The Oz'od shuffled out of the room.

"There's nothing impressive about keeping people as slaves," Faith said angrily.

"Not slaves, servants. And sometimes trophies."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night."

"I sleep very well, thank you. Now, as I was saying, the Oz'ods are fantastic creatures. In exchange for their continued existence, they do as I say, including infiltrating the Federation's flagship. At first, it was purely to gather information and watch Data." Fajo paused his monologue to smile at Faith. "And then you came along. It was too perfect! I thought about trying to manipulate him into thinking you were working for me all along. But he's too smart for that. This way, I finally had a bargaining chip that would ensure Data did whatever I asked of him."

He began to circle her and Faith remained frozen, arms wrapped around herself.

"So what? We've just supposed to do everything you say and stay here with you forever?"

Fajo smiled brightly. "Great, you get it."

"That's not going to happen. We're going to get out of here, with or without the Enterprise."

"I doubt Data would even try." Fajo got closer, reaching out to tug on her long braid. "Not if he wants to take care of you."

Anger welled in Faith and she couldn't contain it. The audacity of that man was overwhelming and she threw her elbow back, connecting squarely with his nose.

"Bold of you to assume I need to be taken care of," she snapped.

Fajo swore and drew out a phaser. The next thing she knew a searing pain ripped through her hip and she flew across the room, hitting the soft carpet before rolling into the wall. Through the pain, she lifted her head to stare at the view screen but it had been turned off.

Fajo wiped the blood from his nose, pointing the phaser at her again. "You get one of those," he growled. "Next time I won't be so lenient."

He left her there, curled in excruciating pain.

Faith was in tears, both from emotion and the physical injury she now had. Every time she tried to move, it got worse and she fell back with a yell. It was like an electric heat coursing through her torso. Carefully, she peeled back the torn part of her jumpsuit to examine the wound.

The second-degree burn made her panic return. All she could do was lay there hyperventilating. Try as she might, she couldn't take a deep breath, not until she shut her eyes and imagined Data was there with her, talking her through her attack as he had many times before.

The doors opened and the Oz'od from earlier shuffled back in with several items in their hands.

When they approached her, Faith tried to scramble away.

To her surprise, they spoke. Their voice was stilted and raspy, uncomfortable with English. "No harm. Help."

He reached for her again and Faith fought her instinct to pull away. The Oz'od was surprisingly gentle as he placed a small bowl next to her along with a cloth bandage. In the bowl was a green paste which he began to apply to the burn.

It hurt at first but then it began to cool, easing the pain. Faith relaxed with a sigh, face streaked with tears.

"T-Thank you," she croaked.

"Me Soshi."

"I'm Faith."

He finished putting the paste on then sealed it with a bandage. "Fajo fine if you no fight."

"Fajo needs a fucking dose of reality," Faith said, smoothing her torn jumpsuit over the bandage. "How long have you guys been with him?"

"Two years. We would die alone."

"Starfleet can help you. And you wouldn't have to serve anyone."

Soshi hesitated, looking around as if they were afraid Fajo was watching. Faith wondered if he was somehow. "We like Fajo. Fajo protect Oz'ods."

Faith made a move to stand and Soshi helped her. "It's not protection, it's exploitation." It was a painful trek across the room back to the bed. When she finally made it, she eased herself down, wincing as her hip ached.

Soshi gathered their first aid supplies. "Eat food. Soshi made. Good and fresh."

They then left her alone. Faith poked at the tray but didn't feel even remotely hungry. She had no idea how she could escape her room or get to Data. She doubted she'd be able to overpower Fajo again. But Data could. She imagined he hadn't to spare her any pain from their captor.

If I could just get to him…

After her little stunt, that would probably be impossible.

Faith laid down on her uninjured side, watching the stars outside her window. If he really wanted Data for his collection, he wouldn't do anything to him. She had to believe that. The only thing she could think to do was nothing.

Literally, nothing. She wasn't going to eat anything they brought her and if Fajo came in, she wouldn't even look at him, let alone talk to him.

Eventually, she dozed off.

It was a long time before anyone came to see her again. Soshi brought her another meal to replace the one she hadn't touched but did not say anything. When they replaced that meal as well, they spoke up.

"Faith must eat."

"I'm not eating anything."

"No like food? Want other food?"

"Fajo can force me to stay here but that's it. I'm not eating or drinking. He thinks I'm a bargaining chip, fine! Good luck trying to get Data to do what he wants if something happens to me."

Soshi looked scared and hurried out of the room. She suspected they had to report back to Fajo. She hoped he wouldn't take it out on them.

After the fifth untouched meal, Fajo stomped into her room. "Why must you both make this so difficult?" he asked, hands on his hips like a petulant child.

Faith could see his reflection in the window. She did not answer.

"I know you're not asleep. Answer me! What's wrong with you?"

Her only response was silence.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Fajo moved to the other side of the bed, snapping his fingers to get her attention. "Earth to the human!"

She flipped him the bird.

"Oh, that's nice. Very lady-like." He softened his tone. "Come on, eat something. Pretty please?"

She turned her back on him. Fajo huffed and walked around the other side of the bed again. "You two are so damn difficult!"

"Because you're keeping us against our will, you jag!"

He reached for his phaser and despite herself, she flinched. "Watch it," he warned.

"How do I even know Data is okay?" she asked, heart aching for the android. She had been so worried about him. "You showed me one image and nothing else. For all I know I'm all alone here."

Fajo took a deep breath as if to recollect himself. "Lucky for you, I'm a merciful man." He walked over to the door and opened it.

To her relief, Data entered. He wore a hideous purple jumpsuit which obviously wasn't by choice. Regardless, when she saw him, Faith felt her body release its tension. She forced herself out of bed, stumbling as they hurried to embrace.

"Thank the stars you're alright!" she said.

"I am fine. Are you?"

"I am now."

Data looked at Fajo. "May we have privacy?"

Fajo put his hands up as he backed out of the room. "Five minutes. We have that dinner with the Vangar delegates and we have to go over talking points."

Data nodded in understanding. As soon as Fajo left Faith asked, "You're going along with him?"

"For now," Data said, stroking her cheek. "I do not wish for him to hurt you again. Striking him was not a smart idea."

"I know. But it felt really good."

He gave her a small smile before hugging her once more. "Please do not attempt to harm him again. He has a personal force field activated that will harm you significantly. I suspect he did not think he would need to use it around you."

"His mistake. I take it that's why you haven't overpowered him."

"You are correct. Why will you not eat?"

"Passive resistance."

"Please eat. You will need your strength if we are to plan our escape."

"Data, how the hell are we going to get out of here?"

"I do not know yet. But I will find a way. In the meantime, do not underestimate Fajo. He will not hesitate to harm or kill. I have seen him do both."

A shiver ran down Faith's spine and she suddenly realized how lucky she had been to only receive a blaster to the hip.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm trying to be a brave Starfleet officer but deep down I'm terrified."

Data cupped her face. "I will not let harm come to you. I will do as he says in the hope he leaves you be. However, I do not know if Fajo will allow another meeting between us. He only allowed this one when I negotiated for it."

"Kiss me then. I need to feel your lips."

He did, deeply. Faith kissed him back, not knowing when or even if she'd see him again. She couldn't bear to let him go.

"Alright, alright, break it up." Fajo's voice ruined the moment. "You'll decrease his value."

Faith glared at him but Data's hand fell to her lower back which calmed her down.

"Actually, Fajo, I believe Faith would only enhance my image to your friends."

Both of them looked at him in confusion. Though, Fajo looked entirely too interested in the notion. "How so?"

"I am the only sentient android in the galaxy. I possess no emotions and yet have found myself a romantic partner," Data explained. "I believe some would find that interesting."

Faith suddenly realized what Data was doing. He was trying to devise a way to satisfy Fajo's weird fixation while also keeping Faith close and extend their time together.

She loathed the thought of having to sit through a dinner with rich creepy people she didn't know. But if it meant she could remain at Data's side, she'd bite her tongue and force a smile.

Fajo pointed at Data. "I see what you're trying to do," he said. "Oh, I forgot how clever you could be." He pondered Data's suggestion, looking Faith up and down. Finally, he clapped excitedly. "This will be so much better! Yes! Let's get your little girlfriend all gussied up for dinner. You two are going to make a splash!" He went to the door and waved Data over. "Come, Data. Let's go find something for her to wear while she washes up. She clearly needs it."

Faith took an angry step towards Fajo but Data held her back.

"Perhaps I should stay to ensure she is made aware of her expectations," he suggested.

Fajo's smile faded. "I am being very generous, all things considered. Do not test me."

She could sense Data's disappointment but he didn't seem to want to push his luck. Not after seeing how Fajo hurt her so easily.

"Very well," he said.

Fajo was delighted. "Had I known you would be so agreeable this way I would have kidnapped someone close to you the first time! Now, when we meet with the delegates, remember to tell them how we first met…"

Data followed him out of the room, casting Faith a reassuring nod before the doors closed.

Thrown by the turn of events, she shuffled over the end of the room which had a partition for privacy. Behind it was a toilet, sink, and tiny shower stall that she could barely fit into. She turned the shower on and tested the water. Thankfully it was hot.

She peeled her torn clothes and bandage off before stepping into the stall. The water felt wonderful and she washed hours worth of sweat and tears away. The paste on her wound washed off as well, leaving smooth, fresh skin with no burn in sight. Her hip still ached however and probably would for a while.

Once she had washed up, Faith stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself.

There was nothing for her to change into yet so she tried to comb her hair out with her fingers as she waited.

By the time they came back, her hair had dried into its natural thick waves.

"Wear this," Fajo ordered, handing her a folded gown of deep purple. It complimented the jumpsuit Data wore except it was made of soft silk.

Faith stepped behind the partition again and slipped into the dress. It was far too tight and showed too much skin for her liking. Her cleavage was on full display and the skirt's slit went almost to her thigh.

The shoes were worse. God awful heels that hurt her feet. She'd rather be barefoot. But she had to play her part just as Data played his.

When she stepped back out, Data's eyes went wide. He seemed to eye her with appreciation which did make her feel a little better. Only a little.

"Marvelous, breathtaking," Fajo said. "You clean up well. Data was sure you'd protest showing so much skin but we want to really wow everyone. Come come, give us a spin."

Faith clenched her jaw and spun in a slow circle.

"Wonderful. Now, we mustn't keep our guests waiting for too long. Data remembers quite clearly what happened the last time he failed to entertain my friends. Come along you two." Fajo made a move to leave before turning back. "Oh, and if you could smile, Faith, you'd look so much prettier."

If Faith could rip out his throat she would.

She slid her arm around Data's as they followed Fajo out of her room. "Imma kill him. I swear," she muttered so softly only he could hear it.

Data leaned in close. "Starfleet officers do not condone homicide."

"This one does."

Data sighed, bringing his free hand up to rest over hers. "Faith…"

"I know, I know. I was kidding. Mostly."

"No whispering you two!" Fajo barked over his shoulder.

The halls of the ship were more standard than Faith expected. Clearly, Fajo liked the finer things in life. She expected his ship to reflect as much. But it seemed to be made more for function than comfort.

They arrived at the dining hall and he led them in with a bright smile.

"Kornok, Dulcer, Enil! My friends!" he greeted the three slender looking aliens with comically large round eyes and squared heads.

"Fajo!" The shortest of the three, Kornok, said as he approached the other man. "It has been far too long!"

Data and Faith hung back as Fajo made his greetings and small talk. The Vangar kept looking at them with interest until the female Dulcer pushed past Fajo and approached.

"Now what have we here?" she asked, circling the couple.

"My dear friends, meet the first in my new collection," Fajo said proudly. "Lieutenant Commander Data, the first and only sentient android in existence."

"Fascinating!" Kornok exclaimed and Dulcer continued her scrutiny.

"Hello," Data said dutifully. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

"My, how well he speaks!" Dulcer exclaimed.

Faith clutched Data's arms tighter when she realized Enil was staring at her in an almost leering way.

"And the girl?" Enil asked.

"Oh, you'll get a kick out of this," Fajo said. "Faith is Mr. Data's girlfriend."

The Vangar began whispering excitedly in another language and suddenly all three were circling Faith and Data with rapt attention.

"A girlfriend? The android has a girlfriend?"

"Fascinating! But he doesn't have emotions! How does that work?"

"Is there an intimate nature to the relationship?"

Faith was already hating everything about the situation. The last question was asked by Enil and made Data speak up.

"That question is inappropriate," he said. "I do not mind answering questions that do not pertain to the intimacy of my relationship with Faith."

You tell him, babe, Faith thought to herself.

"Modesty! I love it!" Kornok laughed.

Fajo laughed as well. "Come now, let's eat! We can discuss more over food. I'm sure you're all ravenous."

The three wandered away from the couple, firing all sorts of questions at Fajo as they took their seats.

"This is going to suck," Faith muttered as she and Data followed.

"Yes. Yes it will."

#commander data #lt commander data #data tng #data soong #star trek next generation

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garyofrivia · 5 years

Text

For They Shall Be Satisfied

Arthur Morgan x OC

Chapter 6

(masterlist in bio)

A/N: we back with another chapter babey - right before my spring semester starts! yoikes!! anyways, things will pick up soon here with this fic. a particular ~event~ is coming that i’m very excited for hehehe. thank uwu so much for reading :D

Warnings/Categories: Violence, Angst

(WC: 5,187)

In the following three weeks after the attempted robbery, the Van der Linde camp felt like normal again. There were chores to be done and money to be made. Annie was restless and eager to help, but her recovery was not as speedy as she had hoped. More than anything, she wanted to get up and go out for a hunt, or to fish, or anything even slightly productive.

At first, Tilly would come over to keep her company when Arthur needed to tend to his duties. He wasn’t around much, apart from when he took up his bedroll beside the cot to sleep. Annie was almost surprised at his absence, not that she expected him to nurse her back to health. He seemed…angry. Distant. There was something he wasn’t telling her.

Dutch hadn’t said all that much to her, either. Nor Hosea at that matter. It was strange that the three of them had been avoiding her like that. Maybe they felt guilty for how the job went, or perhaps they were just focused on what was next. They still needed a big score to get themselves away from the long arm of the law and all the fallout with Benson had been left hanging like old laundry.

Benson… He played them like a fiddle. Arthur brushed it off when she asked what would come of it. He just said, “Dutch is handling it.” Whatever that meant. She decided not to take it personally, mostly because she didn’t have the energy for it.

It took a few days to manage to eat a full meal due to the nausea from all the medication. Strauss gave her wound a look and he told her that it seemed that it was just the muscle tissue that had been damaged, which was good, but that only meant that the pain was amplified tenfold every time she moved her body more than an inch at a time. But she was sick of laying around like a log, so she powered through it as best she could.

She eventually moved back to her own lean-to when Jenny relocated to her new spot near Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen. She had come over to talk to Annie a few times, thanking her for helping when she could have left her behind and to help he get back on her feet. She was a sweet girl, only 19. She didn’t say much about where she came from, only that she wasn’t lying about the death of her mother and her father got remarried to a “wretch of a woman”. She left home at 16 and had been a swindler ever since. The O’Driscolls picked her up on their way East and what started as a simple business deal between them ended with them threatening her life if she didn’t do what they asked.

Annie took a liking to her fairly quickly, but still held herself at a distance. Her suspicion of outsiders has been somewhat heightened since the botched robbery. She’d done a lot of thinking during her recovery, and a lot of questions remained unanswered. How did they know about the hit? Was Benson and his employer in on it? Who was his employer? No one seemed to want to talk to her about it. Though, with her stubborn nature and after days of being essentially helpless, she couldn’t help but pry into it further.

“Hosea, c’mon,” she said, hobbling after the man as he strode towards Dutch’s tent. “Don’t tell me you ain’t thinkin’ the same thing.”

“I assure you, I am not thinking the same thing, Annie,” he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You sure don’t know when to quit, do you? Even with a hole in your abdomen you’re full speed ahead.”

Admittedly, her theory was a bit off the wall, even for her. She was convinced that Benson was hired by the Marshals to go undercover to catch them. It would explain why he insisted to meet them in front of the Sheriff's office and why he was so secretive about who he was working for. That’s what Annie thought, at least. She spoke with conviction, but the lack of evidence to prove it was not working in her favor.

“At least admit it’s suspicious,” she insisted, wrestling with her dress as she tried to keep up with Hosea. She had resigned to wearing one of Karen’s old skirts and blouses to accommodate for the bandages and she’d never hated anything more.

“I believe we’re past suspicion at this point. Give it a rest.”

“Please, Hosea, just let me in on this.”

He paused and faced her just before he was about to push open the flap of Dutch’s tent. “You need to heal.”

“I’m healed.”

“You can barely walk.”

“I can still think straight.”

He scoffed. “You’re doing everything but thinking straight.”

“Just... give me a chance to get back on my feet. I’m dyin’ here.” She gave him a longing look, pleading with her eyes to let her contribute at least something.

He sighed and put his hands on his hips, exasperated. Glancing at the ground and then back up at her, he shook his head and groaned. Without a word, he gestured for her to follow him inside Dutch’s tent. She grinned.

“All I’m sayin’ is that we need more money. That is the plan,” Dutch was saying as they entered. Hosea took a seat next to him, grabbing a beer from the crate on the table.

Arthur was with them, looking as annoyed and impatient as ever. He glanced up to see Annie find a spot next to him and opposite Dutch. John was in the corner, seemingly sleeping and Micah was pacing in the middle of everyone.

“Well,” Dutch continued, looking from Annie to Hosea and then back again. “It’s mighty cozy in here, ain’t it fellas?”

“I don’t remember you gettin’ invited, Princess,” Micah jeered.

Annie rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“So, the plan is... just to get more money?” John said, massaging his brow with his palm.

“Sounds simple enough,” Arthur said, sighing.

“We have any leads?” Annie asked.

“Arthur and I reckon we have a few cards up our sleeves,” Hosea said, sipping his beer.

“Mister Bell here thinks he’s got somethin’ as well,” Dutch said, failing to give more information.

She raised an eyebrow. “Well…? Either of you care to elaborate?”

“Hosea here seems to think he’s caught on to some kind of a real estate scam,” Arthur said.

Hosea grinned. “It’s ‘the perfect crime’ if I say so myself.”

They looked over at Dutch, waiting for his explanation. He had a sly twinkle in his eye as he spoke. “We don’t have many details as of yet, but we assure you all that this is somethin’ huge.”

“Just keep in mind that we don’t need to put ourselves at any additional risk after what happened with the O’Driscolls.” Hosea said.

Dutch opened his arms and smiled. “Have some faith, dear Mister Matthews. This is our ticket outta here.”

“Where are we plannin’ on goin’, then?” Arthur asked plainly.

“Wherever the hell we want, son. Just away from here, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sold on that,” John said. “That’s all then?”

“Patience, my boys,” Dutch said. “I need you all to be on your best behavior now, you hear? That means keeping your ears to the ground and bringing in everything we can. We’ll need all we can get.”

Micah, John, and Arthur nodded and all stood to leave.

“What’s my job here?” Annie piped up. They turned to her, all seemingly to have forgotten she was there.

“Your job is to heal that bullet wound, Annie darlin’,” Dutch said. She hated when he called her that.

“I didn’t get shot in the head, I still got a brain. I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are, but we’ll need your gun too when the time comes. That means you’ll need to be one-hundred percent. Sit this one out.”

She looked between all of them, waiting for one of them to vouch for her. No one spoke up. “Well, have you all figured out what Benson’s plan was? Did he play us?”

“Of course he played us, that much is a given.”

“So… that’s it then?”

“Revenge is a fool’s game, Annie, you know I’ve always said that.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about revenge. What if there’s more to it? Whoever he’s workin’ for- what if they come back to finish the job?”

“That’s the least of our concerns,” Micah said, scornfully. “Leave it to you to get caught up on somethin’ like that when we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

She ignored him and turned to Hosea. “Help me out here.”

He sighed and glanced away. “Annie, we all talked about the Benson business. We’ve decided that it’s best we move on and just… put it behind us.”

Annie leaned back and crossed her arms. In the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur shift uncomfortably. “Right. Sure. Okay, then. Glad that was settled.”

“If you have something on your mind, it might be best to say it,” Dutch said.

Annie hesitated. The men in the tent watched her with anticipation. She didn’t make a habit of back talking Dutch, but she was one of the only ones that ever really dared to. She looked down at the skirt she was wearing and folded her hands in her lap. She decided that the chance to go on the offense would come later and the diplomatic approach would be better suited to the situation.

She looked up calmly and her voice was steady. “With the bankroll delivery, you were quick to accept that it was a setup after the fact. I’m pointing out that if we can get out in front of this, we can head it off before it happens again.”

“We had this conversation already,” Dutch flared. “We’re done with Benson. And that is final.”

“Dutch, think about this-.”

“We have done a lot of thinkin’, and I am sorry you weren’t there for it, but we have got to keep moving forward.”

She glared at him, her composure melting with the frustration mounting within her. “What happens if they don’t miss next time? If one of our own gets killed? It’ll be ‘cause you didn’t wanna do anything about it when you had the chance.”

“Annie,” Dutch warned. Hosea and John watched nervously while Arthur and Micah were visibly on edge. “Doubt ain’t gonna get us anywhere.”

“Annie, let it go,” Arthur mumbled as he placed a hand on her shoulder, but she instantly knocked it away.

She turned to him and shot to her feet. “You agree?”

“It’s best we move on,” he said, raising his voice slightly.

She looked at everyone in the tent with cold eyes, challenging them to say something more.

“Annie, let’s go have a talk,” Hosea said.

“Nah, I think we’ve all done enough talkin’,” she said, grimacing with disappointment.

“Well, that we can agree on, Miss Bolton,” Dutch said, lowly.

Arthur was the first to break the tension. He snatched his hat off his chair and shoved it onto his head. “If you’re all finished, I have things to do.”

With that, he burst out of the tent with Micah and John following suit, seeing their chance to escape whatever gang politics were about to ensue. Annie rushed after Arthur as he headed toward the horses, holding her side as it panged with each hurried step she took.

“Arthur! Arthur, hold on,” she called. He ignored her and stormed further and further from camp. “Arthur, goddamnit!”

He whirled around throwing his hands up from his side. “What the hell is it, Annie?”

Her eyebrows synched together and her nostrils flared with anger. “What just happened in there?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’m tryin’ to make the right decision to protect everyone in this damn camp.”

“Were you protecting the gang? Or just sayin’ all that for yourself?”

She threw her arms up in exasperation. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothin’ that’s any of your business, that’s for sure.”

“I’m thinkin’ it is, since you’ve seemed to have such a sour attitude with me lately. Even before the Benson job you’ve been actin’ like a damn child.”

“I’m a child?” he laughed, mockingly. “That’s bold comin’ from you.”

“The hell are you on about?”

“You arguin’ with Dutch in there for no reason. Tryin’ to make it seem like you’re the only one who could possibly be right.”

“And Dutch is the one that’s always right, is he? He has good intentions, I know that. But his last plan didn’t work out too well, if you remember that part.”

“That was our plan.” He shoved a finger in her face and lowered his voice to a harsh growl. “You got no place to be doin’ that. Everything he does is for this gang, every decision he makes is for us. And I might be actin’ like a child, but at least I ain’t the one that’s runnin’.”

She stepped closer to him, so that only he could hear what she said through clenched teeth. “I thought we talked about this.”

“Yeah. We did. And then you got shot.”

“What?”

“At first you wanna leave and make all these plans to ‘help one last time’ and now you’re tryin’ to get in on all these major decisions, as if you weren’t already packin’ your bags.” he said, the bitterness in his voice cutting her to the core. “What’s the idea, Annie? Stick your hand into Dutch’s plans like you run the show and then make it so that we need you more than you need us right before you make a break for it?”

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. “It ain’t like that, Arthur, none of it is.”

“Then what? What are you gonna do?”

She couldn’t piece together her own thoughts. “I told you already.”

“You sure did. And now you’re plannin’ to get in on one of these jobs and collect what you can to be rid of us all.”

She couldn’t fathom what he was saying. He was acting like she was betraying them when before he said that he understood. That he was wrong for thinking this was in her own interest. But like a lightbulb flipping on in her head, she realized something.

“Dutch talked to you, didn’t he?”

He hesitated, just for a moment and Annie knew the truth before he uttered another word. “That don’t matter.”

“Jesus Christ. I can’t believe this. You fuckin’ told him, didn’t you?”

“No. But I’m regrettin’ that right about now.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh really? Go on then. Run to Dutch. Tell him my little secret.”

Arthur glared at her. For a second, the anger in his eyes made her think he might call her bluff. She knew how much this gang meant to him and how she was wrong to expect him to think otherwise about her plans to leave. He was a loyal man, if nothing else. The redeeming qualities he possessed were rare, but she admired him for them all. This was his family. And she felt terrible for imposing her own agenda on it. But after everything they’ve been through together, she owed him the truth.

“I won’t say nothin’. You deserve that much. But I’ll tell you this, Annie Bolton. Once you leave, there ain’t no comin’ back.”

She looked down in shame, the sharpness of his words not missing their mark. “John came back.” It’s all she could say in her defense.

He scoffed. “Yeah, John, the family man of the century. He came back ‘cause he’s a goddamn idiot who knew he shouldn’t’ve even left in the first place. This? What you’re doin’? This is different. We both know that.”

“I’m not betraying you, Arthur. Whatever Dutch said-.”

“You might not be betrayin’ me, sure. But you’re leavin’ everyone else. Everyone who put their trust in you. Everyone who cares for you, who’s helped you. That’s just the same.”

She stared at him, trying to maintain the last bit of composure she had left. “Maybe so.”

“I said I wouldn’t argue with you no more, and I meant it. I just ain’t gonna take this lyin’ down. You’re free to do what you please. Don’t mean I gotta stand by it.”

“I understand,” she said firmly, trying to hide the pain his words had inflicted.

He hesitated as he reached to grab his horse’s reins. His conflict raged inside him, unbeknownst to Annie. He understood where her intentions were. But he couldn’t stop hearing Dutch’s words play over and over in his own head. “She’ll leave us one day, Arthur. She’ll leave us behind and never look back.” He looked up at her from under the brim of his hat, staring at him with a look that he’s seen too many times in a woman’s eyes. He saw spot of red was starting to form on her shirt just above the waist of her skirt.

“You’re, uh....”

She looked down and covered the spot of blood on her waist with her hand, suddenly embarrassed. She felt weak in all sense of the word. Dutch was right. There was nothing she could do for herself in this state, let alone anyone else.

“I’m gonna go get this patched up, then,” she said in a small voice.

“You do that.”

She turned back towards camp and as she heard Boadicea’s hooves pound away into the distance, she did her best to suppress the tears that were pricking her eyes, but the floodgates were fragile.

***

A few days later Mary-Beth had lent Annie a book to read to occupy her mind after she nearly ripped open her stitches trying to chop wood to “let off some steam”. It was a penny dreadful about barber that murdered his customers and baked them into pies, which she found rather intriguing, if not a little outlandish. Though even with something to hold her interest, she was growing more and more frustrated by the minute.

Her conversation with Arthur had put distance between them. He hadn’t spoken to her since, not that she was looking for any conversation with him. It was still… strange. She had other friends at camp, sure, but actively avoiding one of them was an alienating feeling.

She heard through the grapevine about the job that Micah supposedly was onto. He’d picked up from a “contact” that a $150,000 shipment of bank money was on a riverboat and scheduled to dock in Blackwater in two days time. The potential payoff was probably worth the risk, but she wondered how exactly Dutch planned to rob a fucking ferry.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Tilly’s voice brought her back to the present.

“What thing?” She said, sitting up against the wagon wheel under the girls’ tent.

“That thing where you stare at a page for ten minutes and don’t read a word. You keep doin’ it.”

“Sorry.” She closed the book and ran a hand through her hair, toying with the stray strands that had come out of her braid.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothin’. Well, a lot, but nothin’ too important, I guess.”

Tilly raised an eyebrow. She was stitching a tear in a shirt Annie didn’t recognize, but had rested her hands in her lap to eye her carefully. “Is it Arthur?”

Annie blushed but quickly shook her head. “Nah, not him. Well, sorta. In part. It’s just…”

“Dutch, then?”

“You know about that?”

“It’s not a very big camp, Annie.”

Annie scoffed. “I guess not.”

“You can’t keep mouthin’ off to him like that.”

“I know. I was just angry.”

“Well, your temper has always been a force to be reckoned with, Miss Bolton.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware, Miss Jackson.”

“Well, I guess that counts for somethin’,” she said, smirking and returning to her sewing. “What happened with you and Arthur, anyhow?”

Annie shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, nothin’ really. Just a stupid fight about Dutch.”

“Just about Dutch?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I was just mad.”

“He looked pretty mad, too.”

“I said some things I shouldn’t have,” Annie sighed. “That’s all.”

“You know, for a con-artist, you’re pretty bad at lyin’,” Tilly said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

Annie looked up at her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I seen the way you look at him.”

“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”

Tilly cocked an eyebrow. “I also seen the way he looks at you.”

Annie’s jaw tightened and she looked away. She couldn’t think straight enough to say anything.

“Whatever’s goin’ on with you two, it’s clear y’all care about each other more than either of you let on.”

“We’re all family, of course we do.”

Tilly rolled her eyes. “That ain’t what I meant and you know it.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this, Tilly.”

“Sure, you don’t want to talk about it, but you should.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause it’s just gonna eat away at you otherwise. You’ve been losin’ sleep, you barely eat, it’s already takin’ its toll. And don’t tell me it’s because you got a bullet put through you, you’ve been fine since you tried to cut firewood the other day, for goodness sake.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“Deniaaal,” she sang.

“Tilly, drop it, will you?”

“Fine, fine. But the Annie Bolton I know is braver than all this.”

Annie lifted herself up and sat on the stool in front of the washboard tub, grabbing a filthy shirt that resembled one of Sean’s and began scrubbing. Tilly’s words lingered in the air. “I also seen the way he looks at you.” Did Arthur look at her? Did she want him to? The last few weeks had been so confusing. If she really was going to leave, she knew she couldn’t think of him like that, let alone tell him or acknowledge it.

She wished she could tell Tilly. Her and the rest of the girls had always been so kind to her. In the back of her mind, she knew they’d understand if she told them the truth about why she had to leave. Grimshaw would be the one to give her shit for it, but understandably so. She’d been with Dutch almost as long as Annie’s been alive. She held this gang together as much as Dutch and Hosea did and was like a mother to most everyone, despite her crass nature. For as much as Annie didn’t like her, she still respected the hell out of her.

She managed to scrub through a whole batch of laundry before she realized that Tilly had left to help Mary-Beth with feeding the chickens. The camp seemed somewhat serene with most everyone out working or sitting quietly. For the first time in a while, things felt peaceful. Abigail was watching Jack play down near the river. Hosea was lounging under his lean-to reading quietly. Pearson, Strauss, Uncle, and Javier were playing a friendly game of poker near the fire, all laughing and talking like the old friends they were.

Arthur was sitting on his bed with that damn journal in his lap, scribbling furiously. Annie watched him from afar, her hands absentmindedly scrubbing the last of the clothes. His face was scrunched up with concentration. Even from her distance, she could see the lines on his forehead defined by his focused expression. She thought it commendable that he kept a journal. It was something she could never keep up with, even when she tried. She longed to know what he wrote about and drew so often. She longed to know why he kept it so private and what his thoughts were that even the journal didn’t get to know. She longed to know him.

The thought was jarring. Her attention snapped back to her task as she tried to shake it, but it lingered. She did know him, didn’t she? His favorite color was blue. He sang when he was bored, he did more chores around camp when he thought no one would notice, he likes coffee in the mornings, and he’s smarter than he’d ever let on. Underneath it all, he was fair and kind and loving. But the more she thought about it, there was so much she didn’t know.

She knew he had a son once, but not his name. She knew he loved a girl while back, Mary, but not how it ended. Why did he know so much about ancient Rome and literature? Why did he seem so pained every time he talked about his father, as rare as it was?

Why did he insist on confusing the hell out of her?

She caught the eye of Abigail walking over to her with a soft smile on her face. Putting on a grin of her own, she greeted her. “Hi there, Abigail. Looked like Jack was havin’ fun down there.”

“Well, let’s just see if he takes after his father when it comes to water.”

Annie laughed. “We can only hope not.”

“Do you need help with hanging all that?” she asked as she motioned to the pile of wet clothes in the basket next to her.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

The pair of them took a handle of the basket and made their way to the clothesline on the other side of the wagon. They hung the garments one by one and secured them with pins, working in silence for a while.

“I realize we haven’t talked much recently,” Annie said. “How are you?”

“As good as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Abigail said with a sigh. “You? How’s that battle scar of yours?”

“Good. A lot better, if I’m honest.”

Abigail scoffed. “Better for you, maybe. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Keep taking it slow.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You, uh… You talk to John lately? He’s been kinda absent. More so than usual. It’s a shock, I know.”

Annie shook her head. “No, sorry.”

“Arthur has been too, come to think of it.” She paused for Annie’s respond, but she didn’t say anything. “Do you think it has to do with whatever Dutch has been plannin’?”

“If I knew what Dutch was plannin’, I’d be able to tell you.”

“Wait, you’re not in on this ferry job they’re gettin’ up to?”

“Nope.”

“What about that real estate business that Hosea was talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Not that either.”

Abigail frowned in surprise. “Huh. Well, I guess it’s good for you to rest.”

“It don’t feel good.”

Abigail smiled. “Yeah, I know how ‘women’s work’ ain’t really your thing.”

“No, no, it ain’t that-.”

“It’s fine, Annie,” she laughed and held up a shirt with a brown stain still on the collar. “You ain’t very good at washin’, anyways.”

Annie smirked. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

For a moment, they worked in silence again. Abigail was a kind soul and Annie always felt close to her. Probably because she didn’t feel like she fit in here either. She was only 22, four years younger than Annie, but she already had a 5-year-old son and had to deal with his father not being in the picture most of the time. That had to be alienating, especially in a place where it was sacrilegious to talk about leaving the outlaw life.

“Hey, Abigail?” Annie suddenly said. “You wanna come to town with Jenny and I? I told her I’d take her to the stables and help get her a horse.”

“Yeah, yeah I’d love to!” Abigail’s face lit up at the invitation, but almost immediately sank. “But… Jack.”

“Tilly can watch him,” Annie suggested, shrugging and gesturing over to where Jack was now throwing chicken feed around with Tilly and Mary-Beth.

“Oh, well, I suppose it’s only for a few hours. I’ll go make sure it’s alright with her.”

Annie hung the last shirt on the line and went back to her lean-to to change out of the borrowed skirt and into something more comfortable for her. A loose black shirt and and an old pair of blue jeans that rose higher on her waist than she’d have liked would have to do for the time being. She went without suspenders and buckled her gunbelt carefully around her hips, avoiding the fresh bandages she’d just put on.

She thumbed the brim of her hat, touching it for the first time since Charles was kind enough to ride back for the day after she and Jenny turned up to camp. It was under the guise of a hunting trip at first, but he told her that he knew how much she loved that old thing. He was always one of the good ones. She tilted it onto her head and whistled to Jenny across the way.

“Hey, let’s head into town, it’s already noon.”

Jenny, startled out of her conversation with Lenny, quickly told him goodbye and jogged over to Annie, giddy as ever. “Are we takin’ your horse?”

Annie looked over at Nero grazing next to Taima, content as ever. She didn’t want to bother him - the thought made her silently laugh to herself. “Nah, we’ll take the wagon. Abigail is comin’ with us.”

“Oh, okay,” Jenny said, shyly but with a small smile.

“I’m ready to go when you two are,” Abigail said as she walked up. Annie noticed she’d applied a bit of color to her lips and her hair was neater than before. Seeing Abigail excited to go to town was enough to bring a smile to her face.

“You look lovely, Miss Roberts. Let’s head out then,” she said. “Pearson has the wagon hooked up for a supply run, so we can do that while we’re there, too.”

The three of them walked across camp and over to the wagon. Pearson was jotting something down on a slip of paper as he stood next to the driver’s seat, looking agitated as ever.

“Mister Pearson,” Annie said, pulling his attention away from his frantic work. “We’ll grab what you need in town, we’re headed there now.”

“Oh, thank you Annie,” he said as he glanced at Abigail and Jenny mounting up on the wagon and then back at his list. “Make sure you get the coffee, we’re almost clean out.”

“The world would surely end if we ran out of coffee,” Abigail said, making Jenny giggle.

Annie took Pearson’s list and grocery money and took her place in the driver’s seat. When she turned back to wave goodbye, she caught Arthur’s eye. He was staring up at them, his journal still open in his lap. He looked sad. She held his gaze for a moment longer and he nodded politely, a gesture he hadn’t given her in a long time. It’s like she was a stranger to him, and it hurt more than it should have. She steeled herself and looked away to drive the horses forward.

Oh, Arthur. She thought. Why is this so hard?

#rdr 2 fic #rdr 2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfic #for they shall be satisfied #ftsbs #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #annie bolton #my oc #rdr oc

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jinterlude · 6 years

Text

This Little String

↳ header is made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

➳ Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (female OC)

➳ Genre(s): Soulmate!AU, College!AU, Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, & Slight-Angst

➳ Words: 5.8K

➳ Summary: Legend has it that the other half to your heart is currently out there, patiently waiting for their soulmate to surface. Yeah...there’s a tiny problem with that... You love the idea of being alone. Why? Well, You always found it a tad strange that a person would suddenly go from being independent to dependent in a split second, especially when he or she is on top of their academic game. Also, it doesn’t help that you tend to get a bit bored after being with someone for more than 2 weeks—so, why settle? Unfortunately—whether you like it or not—you do have a soulmate, and his curiosity has been piqued.

Lively chatter becomes muffled. The sounds of your fellow college students fade away as you place your noise-canceling headphones over your precious ears. The power of your headphones is truly amazing. Every time you have put them on, everything and everyone disappear into the background. It’s as if they are to become pieces of furniture or a new painting that’s added to enhance the overall atmosphere.

With the lightest of touch, your phone unlocks, revealing your home screen. A faint smile graces your pretty lips as you recall fondly of the memory that the picture took place. It’s photo of you and your best friend, who is practically your sister, Sumin, and the two of you are smiling brightly and flashing the “peace” sign. Your eyes remain focus on the picture as you begin to purse your lips, contemplating what on Earth happened between you guys. Before, it’s just the two of you. The two musketeers. Then—suddenly—Sumin has announced that a particular string appeared on her left pinky, and the rest was history in your book...

You perk your eyebrows up as you tried your hardest to contain the laughter that bubbles within the pit of your stomach. You always do find entertainment in another person’s misery. Dark, huh?

“It’s not that big of a deal, Min...” You say, doing your best to comfort your frustrated friend.

Sumin frowns and her eyes narrow at you as she takes a break from looking for a pair of scissors in your shared dorm.

“Not that big of a deal? Not that big of a deal?!” She shrieks, causing you to quickly shield your poor ears from the high-pitch scream that emits from her lips. Seriously, for a small young woman, she can really produce a loud sound. Maybe that will be your next case study.

Sumin flashes her left pinky finger, “This is a HUGE deal!” She pauses, taking a deep breath before resuming her rather interesting rant, “I went from being blissfully unaware that I have a soulmate to ‘Oh, look! Your other half is closer than you think!’” She finishes, flopping on your bed.

You suck in some air, concocting the best plan to approach your grieving bestie. You tilt your head to the side as your eyes focus on one section of the dull, white ceiling. This might be a little harder because out of all your years of knowing her, none of your go-to tactics is going to cut it. Right now, she’s beyond a Code: Blue. She’s like a Code: Rainbow. She’s experiencing every single meltdown behavior known to man.

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling nice and slow, you push yourself off the comforts of your wall and stride over to Sumin. You gently take a seat next to her and display a warm smile. You cautiously place a comforting touch on her thigh as you continue to witness her trying to suffocate herself with a pillow.

“First off, why are acting like me? This is something I would do,” You take the pillow off from Sumin’s face, “Second, since when did you find this whole soulmate stuff terrifying? Again, you are behaving like me.” You finish, poking fun at the fact she’s indeed acting like yourself. Oh, how the tables have turned.

Sumin props herself up, looking defeated as she always hates the fact that you are right.

Though...

Someone has to be between the two of you.

A long yet faint groan escapes her lips as she continues to pout cutely. She crosses her arms over her chest as she rests her head on your shoulder. Out of instinct, you place your head on top of hers.

“It’s not that I find this situation terrifying, but the idea of not knowing who my better half is? Yeah, that’s the scary part. What if the person is this serial killer? What if he’s going to murder me in my sleep and sell my organs on the black market?” Sumin fires question after question. However, the last question causes a small giggle to leave your mouth. She spends way too much time with you. You two need to stop.

You eye her with an amused smirk, “The black market?” You repeat.

“It was the first thing that came to mind. Leave me alone.” Sumin replies, defending her choice of words.

You chuckle softly as you begin to ease Sumin’s worries away. You start to tell Sumin that you highly doubt that the romance Gods would pair her up with a serial killer, and that maybe her destined pair is someone that is going treat her like the princess that she is—especially after her previous failed relationships with sad, immature little boys.

“I truly believe that this person is going to make you the happiest you have ever been, and you will forget all about Choi Junhong, Choi Seungcheol, and what’s his face...,” You trail on, snapping your figures as you hope that the last name will pop in your wonderful mind, “Ah-ha!! Chae Hyungwon! Now I remember!”

Sumin laughs softly before hugging you in a thankful manner.

“What would I do without you?”

“Probably settle for that one annoying pretty boy that keeps pestering not only you, but myself as well. Seriously...can’t he take a hint?”

“Do you want to try and work your booby magic, again?”

“Maybe...maybe...”

Now bopping your head to the music, you find yourself lost to the words that the musician sang. The haunting melody is oh so addicting that you can’t help but hum along as you lazily scroll through your Instagram feed, liking every other post and obviously skipping the ones about your friends gushing over their significant other; their one true love.

With a heavy sigh, you close the app and place your phone gently down on the table. You pick up your fork before digging in your healthy lunch. Funny. Sumin suggests that the two of you eat healthier and try and have your meals together yet, here you are, sitting at a table that’s against the window and you are alone—or so you think.

As you lift the fork, with a few pieces of mixed greens, to your mouth, you notice a couple of figures in front of you.

Suddenly, your body shakes. Your heart races and pounds against your chest. A few pieces of your salad fling over to one of the intruders as you swiftly slide your headphones off.

Your hand clutches your chest as you glare at the people who dare sneak up on you.

“Hey. How about a warning next time?” You “politely” ask the two invaders.

“Sorry hubby... You just look so lonely, so I thought Mark and I should sit with you!” Your mind registers Sumin’s voice as your vision finally focuses on the two bodies that currently sit across from you.

A soft scoff exits your lips as you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, you mean the child you babysit every single day of your life?” You question; your tone lace with nothing but pure attitude.

Sumin’s soulmate, who is the sole reason why it’s never just the two of you anymore, rolls his eyes as a snarky comeback slowly brews inside his brain.

“You know... Now, that you said that, your soulmate is going to be this 80-year old, sickly man.” He snaps back with an overly friendly smile.

The bottom of your lip disappears as this dark cloud glazes over your eyes. You slowly nod as you revert back to your original position. You calmly sit up straight, crossing one leg over the other, as you maintain direct contact with Mark freaking Lee.

Is this kid serious?

Is he honestly thinking that he can step up to you? The master—no—the queen of clap backs.

Oh boy…this is going to be fun.

“I actually find that to be a positive thing,” You take a swig of water then quickly swallow, “If my soulmate happens to be this elderly gentleman, then that means that he would want to do everything and anything with me before his time on this realm is over. For instance, he would want to take me out on a nice shopping spree or shoot, he might even pay for my college tuition,” You lean back again, turning your attention towards Sumin, who’s busy shaking her head, “I always wanted a sugar daddy, right Min?” You ask.

Sumin nods as she stares at her poor boyfriend with an apologetic smile. She rubs his lower back gently, whispering comforting words.

“I can’t win with her, can I?” Mark Lee muttered as he stares blankly at you.

“Nope.” Sumin says shortly as she leans back in her seat.

You smile brightly at the college freshman before continuing your healthy yet hearty lunch. You mix up your salad, coating the dressing over the nutritious leaves again. You make sure to grab a bit of everything. A few pieces of the mixed greens, a piece of chicken breasts, and can’t forget the tiny shreds of cheese.

A content expression washes over your face as the fork nears your lips.

As the green barely touches your bottom mouth, a strong force causes your left hand to jerky suddenly. Your eyes widen. An almost giant “O” forms as you see Mark Lee now decorated with a small portion of your lunch.

“I am so sorry…!” You say slowly before dashing off to grab some more napkins. You may dislike him for taking away your best friend, but you don’t hate him enough to purposely fling your food at him.

That bit of action is purely reserved for your dates, especially if you can’t think of any other way to get the unfortunate soul, who you’re on the date with, to be turned off.

You rush back to the table and hand over the paper product to Sumin. Sumin quickly says, “thank you”, and proceeds to clean up her better half. She makes sure that his shirt isn’t stained with the salad dressing. Once she deems his shirt passable, she kisses his cheek sweetly and kindly reminds him that you haven’t found your soulmate yet, and you flinging your food is 100% accidental.

Mark Lee mumbles a few profanities under his breath; his mind telling him that you are trying to sabotage his relationship with the woman that he has pined after for years. Then, he soon realizes that you want Sumin to be happy, so it doesn’t make sense for you to try and tamper with their relationship.

“It’s all good. Besides, whatever that salad dressing is, it smelled bomb, so I might want to go buy some for myself.” Mark Lee says, smiling, as he stands up. He quickly asks Sumin if she wants anything. Sumin thinks to herself, tapping her chin lightly, before giving him some money to buy her a peach mango smoothie.

“Put your money away girl. I got you.” He states, winking and clicking his tongue, as he walks away, leaving you and Sumin alone.

You feel a heavy weight lift off your shoulder. While you do like poking fun at his age, you never want him to despise you or hold a grudge against you. He doesn’t know this, but you would protect him since he’s protecting Sumin in your place.

“He hates me.” You declare, shocking Sumin.

Sumin is alarmed by your bold statement.

“Mark can never hate anyone. He’s too pure for that.” Sumin waves away your declaration, “Seriously. He doesn’t hold any grudges. If anything, he’s making it his life goal to come up with the perfect comeback to clap back with,” She flashes a reassuring smile, “Trust me. He doesn’t hate you.” She declares.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth, wanting to state another point, that same strong force from earlier tugs your body to the side, causing you to topple over.

A long groan escapes your lips as you remain lying on the floor.

Sumin shoots up from her seat and dashes over to your side. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her kneeling beside you.

“Stupid question to ask, but are you okay?” She inquires; a sense of worry laces her words.

You tilt your head towards her, “Just peachy.”

Sumin laughs as she helps you up from the ground, checking your body once more for any visible injuries.

“I wonder who’s causing your body to react like this?” She questions as the two you take your seats.

“Maybe my dad finally kicked the bucket and he’s haunting me from his grave.” You snort as Mark Lee returns with his food and Sumin’s smoothie.

“What did I miss?” He asks, taking a seat and handing Sumin her smoothie.

“Don’t worry about it kid.” You reply, looking indifferent.

“For the last time, I’m not a kid! I am a nineteen-years-old college student!” Mark states firmly; his voice raising in pitch.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to entertain this little man any longer,

“Yeah…if you’re not old enough to share a few shots of vodka with me, then you’re still a kid in my book.” You argue back.

“Well, I’m legally able to in…let’s say… Germany! There, I’m allowed to drink beer and champagne since you have to be sixteen in order to do so,” Mark stands up, “BOOM! Got you there!” He declares proudly, wearing a smug smirk.

“Yeah, but are we in Germany right now? No. Therefore, you are still a child to me. Boom! Got you there!” You kindly point out, mimicking him near the end with a sweet smile.

Mark huffs and sits back down, earning a sympathetic smile from Sumin while she pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m going to win against you one of these days. Just wait and see.” He declares, slowly nodding his head with a determined grin.

“Looking forward to that day. Until then, I’m just going to sit back and sip my favorite cocktail, which you are not allowed to have because you’re still a baby.”

“God damn it!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of your campus, a small group of young men are currently huddling over someone. A man with raven black hair examines his friend’s pinky finger, taking in the detail of a red string that is firmly tied around it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Taehyung. Maybe the romance Gods have a sick sense of humor.” The black-haired college student says, creating distance between him and this Taehyung fella.

Taehyung frowns as he examines the red string himself. This has to be joke. He doesn’t have a soulmate, especially, when he’s so close to confessing his feelings to you.

Well, by close, he’s working the courage to actually say hi to you. Since the first day of your art history class, you have intrigued Taehyung. The way you puff out your cheeks as you answer one of the many short answer questions on the exam. The way a few strands of hair cascade gently down the sides of your face while the rest of your hair is tucked away in a messy bun.

Honestly, he can write an entire book on why he likes you so much, but his friends have told him that would be pretty creepy, and you’ll more than likely file a restraining order against him.

“Wait! What if she’s my soulmate?!” Taehyung exclaims; his optimism showing. His eyes practically sparkle. That’s how happy he is thinking about the possibility of you being his soulmate.

The rest of his friends stare at him in complete disbelief. They turn to one another, unsure who should speak first. Yeah. None of them wants to crush his hopes and dreams.

The youngest, Jungkook, volunteers himself and stands next to him. He places a warm hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and with a grin, he suggests,

“Hm…why don’t you tug on it again and the rest of us will look out for anyone who stumbles over?”

The older fellas give Jungkook a look; their mouths either agape or pursed. That has to be the stupidest idea that they ever heard.

“I don’t think it works like that, Kook.” Pointed out a boy with hazel frame glasses.

Jungkook grins widely, “I think it does, Namjoon. I mean, it worked for me.”

Namjoon raises his brow then sighs. He doesn’t want to argue with the youngster. Usually, it ends with him in a headlock by the muscle head.

Jungkook remains smiling as he tells Taehyung to give his string a good old pull. Taehyung’s still unsure, directing his focus on to the little red string that is tied firmly around his pinky finger. A short hum continues to emit from his lips until he eventually gives in to Jungkook’s strange suggestion. I mean, it doesn’t to try again.

Third times a charm, right?

With one final deep breath, Taehyung’s left-hand wraps around the red thread and then with all of his strength, he pulls it.

The second he did that; the rest of his friends snap their heads in every direction known to man. Their eyes scanning the school’s courtyard.

They seven young college students patiently wait to see if anyone would feel the string’s pull. They decide to wait for a few more minutes before the second oldest, Yoongi, says that Jungkook’s idea is stupid and that he shouldn’t have suggested it during the school’s peak hours.

Jungkook holds his hands up in surrender, “Well, it was a good idea in my head…”

Yoongi scoffs, “Uh-huh. You always say that whenever your plans fail.”

Yoongi’s response causes the others to laugh, except for Taehyung. He frowns because he silently hoped that Jungkook’s plan would lead him to you.

Oh well…

“Well, this has been eventful,” Seokjin begins as he picks up his messenger bag from the ground, “Come on, Tae. You, Jimin, and I got astronomy in 20 minutes.” He says, causing both Taehyung and Jimin to grab their respective bags.

Jimin flings an arm around Taehyung as they trail behind their oldest friend.

“Don’t think about it too much, Tae. Your soulmate will appear to you when you at least expect it.” He tells him, comforting his distraught friend.

Taehyung fakes a smile before getting lost in his thoughts…

“I still can’t believe that you tripped walking out of the dining hall…” Sumin comments, digging out her sunglasses from her backpack.

You mutter a few curse words under your breath as you screw the cap back on your water bottle. Seriously, talk about poor timing. You have just finished eating your lunch and as you near the entrance, you feel that same foreign pull on your left pinky finger and you nearly end up tripping.

You make a mental note to murder your soulmate because he or she has done nothing but cause you to injure yourself and embarrass yourself in front of your peers. You’re pretty sure that your professor has seen you spill the rest of your iced tea all over you.

Like…

What…?

You have always thought that your soulmate would be someone that betters you. Is this payback for making fun of Mark Lee and Sumin’s relationship? The age difference between them is honestly not that bad, but for some reason, you have always imagined Sumin being with someone older. Not younger.

Okay…

This is payback…

You have determined that.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You hear Sumin ask as the two of you walk up the horrendous number of stairs.

You hum in response as you continue to trek up the steps; you feel the air in your lungs leave with each step.

“I know that look. Okay. Emergency talk session after class!” Sumin states, clapping her hands. In doing so, she unintentionally alerts the attention of three young men. However, you’re too lost in your thoughts that you don’t care to check who the people are.

You mumble a quick, “okay”, as the two of you continue to your last class of the day. Thank God for only having two classes for the day.

“Hey, wasn’t that your future wife?” Seokjin asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Taehyung’s head instantly snap towards the opposite direction, however, he’s too late. You magically disappear from his sight and all he sees is a sea of people either going to class or leaving it.

Today is not his day…

Now, currently settled in your class, you pull out your notebook and a pouch filled to the brim with pens. You unzip the bag and pick out a few colors that you have assigned to this class.

You write today’s date and wait for the long lecture to begin, mentally counting down to when class is over.

Scratch that.

You are counting down to when this horrid day is over. Finish.

The sounds of your professor’s voice slowly becomes muffled. You feel your eyelids droop; a tired sensation enters your body. Your head starts to nod as you continue to fight the sleep that your body desperately wants. While this is a boring class, you need it for your major, especially if you want to remain on track for graduation.

This is why failure is not an option for you, and the mere thought of having a soulmate will only be a major distraction. You are quite content with being independent with your main focus being on your studies.

Casual dating is fine with you but not anything long-term.

“Remember…eye on the prize…” You chant over and over as you muster all your strength to stay focus and jot down anything that seems important.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sumin observes your unusual behavior. Most of the time, you’ll take a few notes and then rely on her for the rest. Yet, right now, it seems like someone or something possessed your body to behave this way.

Honestly…

It concerns and frightens her. She definitely needs to talk to you…

“Remember class, next week, your midterm papers are due by midnight.” Announces your professor as your classmate begin packing up their school supplies.

“Well, that lecture was stimulating…” You hear Sumin say sarcastically as the two of you stand up, quickly shoving any remaining items in your backpacks.

You chuckle softly, “Yep…which reminds me…did you start on the research paper?” You ask as you exit the classroom.

“Surprisingly no. Mark has been having trouble with chemistry, so I have been helping him out.” She replies, causing you to smirk as you eye her with a perverted gaze.

Sumin gawks, “NOT LIKE THAT!”

You laugh loudly as you fling an arm around her shoulders, “Whatever you say babe.”

Sumin sighs loudly, causing you to laugh some more, as you two continue your little adventure back to your dorms.

And for some strange reason—you enjoy this little walk a smidge more because once again—it’s the two musketeers.

Just like the old times…

Currently settled in your favorite lounge chair, you prop your feet up on the coffee table before abruptly taking them as Sumin’s quick to scold you. What a motherly friend you have.

You grin widely at her as you take out your laptop and turning it on. Since you know that Sumin is going to talk about what happened today and the whole idiotic idea of “soulmate”, you want to be distracted when she does. The less you pay attention to her, the more of a chance you have to concoct the perfect plan to escape.

What?

You aren’t one to talk about your feelings—unless you’re crazy drunk.

You hear a glass clink against the coffee table, causing you to peek up from your Twitter feed and raise your brow. You eye the clear liquid in the crystal-clear glass, trying to decipher if it’s water or vodka. You conclude that it’s the first option, however, a tiny part of your mind doubts that it can be just water since Sumin knows you.

She knows that you’re more willing to pour out your emotions if you’re slightly buzzed.

You make an unsure face and reach for the glass. Just as the rim touches your lips, you hear Sumin say,

“It’s not vodka, if that’s why you’re taking a sip.”

You playfully wink at her as you take a few sips of the ice-cold water then gently set it on the coaster.

Sumin lightly shakes her head with an amused, lopsided grin as she sits directly across from you.

“Okay. Spill. What’s going on in that intelligent mind of yours?” questions Sumin as she types away on her phone. More than likely messaging her other half that she’s going to put their study session on hold.

You blow some air out before leaning backwards in your chair. You sit there in silence, hoping that your lack of response will give Sumin the clue that you don’t want to talk about the whole soulmate thing right this moment.

Unfortunately, she’s stubborn and decides to press your buttons. She knows the exact combo that will get you talking.

Why are you guys friends again?

A displeased expression glaze over your face as your eyes remain lock onto hers; your blank stare peering into her concerned ones.

“Nothing is the matter.” You say shortly, closing your laptop and setting it aside.

Sumin clicked her tongue, “Don’t give me your usual lie. I know you more than you know yourself and vice versa. Now, talk.” She demands, showing the tough love that you have shown her whenever the two of you engaged in these types of talks.

A loud groan escapes your lips as you stand up and walk away from her.

Honestly, you know what she’s going to say before she even says it. She’s going to hit you with the harsh truth quite frankly, you aren’t ready for it. You aren’t ready to allow some stranger into your heart. To allow some random person to make you laugh…to make you feel unconditionally loved…to simply make you…happy.

You shake your head as a fake, forced airy chuckle leaves your lips while you scan for a way out.

Then, your eyes immediately zoom in on the window. You always do joke about escaping out the window. Might as well give it a shot.

You casually head over towards the window, causing Sumin to look at you with a confused gaze. You pry it open and then peek over the ledge until deeming it safe to jump.

You hook one leg over the ledge, causing it dangle lazily.

“What are you doing?” Sumin asks. Her mouth slightly open and her brows raised.

Just when you are about to answer her, that annoying pull occurs, causing you to topple over and land in the hedges.

Sumin’s jaw nearly drops to the floor before running over to the window. She pokes her head out and shouts,

“Holy shit…! Are you okay!?”

Instead of answering, you remain lying awkwardly on the wide plant. A few faint groans escape your mouth as you stare at the pastel colors that slowly paint the sky. Giant pink clouds, reminding you of delicious cotton candy, appear in your line of sight.

A soft breeze fan your skin, creating tiny goosebumps on the sides of your neck.

Yeah…

It’s time to get leave the bush before bystanders think you’re strange.

You untangle your limbs from one of many children of nature and pull out any foliage that cling to your luscious locks of hair. You wipe away any dirt, not wanting your favorite jean jacket to stain, and begin walking towards the campus.

You might as well grab a cup of coffee from your favorite café.

“Where are you going?” shouts Sumin, wanting to make sure that you’re okay enough to be alone.

Not turning around, you give her a thumbs up as you continue on your merry way.

“I wonder if they can add more than ten shots of espresso…” You snort at your thought as you arrive at the crosswalk.

The same soft breeze brushes against your skin once more. For some strange reason, you can’t help but feel tranquil. You just feel at peace with yourself as you drink in the evening atmosphere.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a few couples talking and eyeing each other with nothing but pure love. Then, your eyes notice the red thread of fate on their pinkies.

You take a deep breath and exhale nice and slow as your mind quickly berates you for mocking the idea of having a soulmate. If you haven’t mocked it so much, then your soulmate would be standing by your side right now.

He or she too looking at you as if you’re the most prized treasure that he or she owns.

You don’t know what possessed you, but you lift up your left pinky finger as the crosswalk signals you and the rest of the herd of people that it’s safe to cross the street.

Your pupils examine the fine thread and then a lightbulb lights up in your brilliant mind.

If that person has been tugging in on your string all day, then it’s only fair that you return the favor.

Standing in the middle of the courtyard, you lightly pinch the thread with your right thumb and index finger. You utter a quick prayer before tugging on it with your eyes tightly closed.

You peek one eye open; your lips grimacing as you think that this is a terrible idea. You wait a few more seconds before tugging it again. Maybe you haven’t pulled hard enough.

You repeat your earlier action, but this time harder.

You quickly scan the sparse quad area, hoping to see anyone who have perhaps stumbled while walking or even have their hand jerk.

Nope.

Nothing.

Nada.

Maybe this is your punishment.

Destined to be forever alone, unaware of who your soulmate is.

You sigh softly before tucking your hands in the pockets of your jean jacket and continue your journey for nice little pick-me-up.

As you take another step, you attempt to pull your hands out. You manage to free your right hand with ease, but with your left hand, it’s proven to be difficult. That stupid string managed to get itself snagged on something.

You continue to fight to free your hand, struggling. You even allow some other fellow coffee lovers to go in front of you because your phone also happened to be inside the left pocket.

You tug, and you tug until with one final strong effort, you free your hand.

In doing so, you unintentionally cause the string to be pulled back—and someone else to fling a rather hot beverage across the establishment.

“Ooh…my…God…! I am deeply sorry!” frantically shouts a deep voice. A voice that sounds a tad too addicting for your taste.

“I don’t know what possessed me to do that, but I swear it’s an accident!” adds the person with a bass for a voice.

You quickly scan the café until your eyes lock in with the person that you at least suspected.

“Taehyung? Kim Taehyung?” You question to yourself or—so you think.

“Yeah?” answers the person with the voice that sounds almost magical to you.

Your face flush in embarrassment as you awkwardly nod your head before dashing out of the coffee place.

No.

That can’t be.

He can’t be your soulmate.

He deserves someone who quite frankly isn’t you.

You glance up to the sky and in a questioning tone, you mutter,

“Really? Him? It’s fine that you despise me, but why do you have to torture him too?”

“I don’t think of it as torture. If anything, I say it’s a blessing because they answered my prayers.” Says a voice behind you, causing you to flinch and grasp your chest.

Why do people like sneaking up on you?

You roughly turn around; your expression remaining neutral as you mask the fear that’s trying to surface.

“Well, you’re going to regret saying that because I shouldn’t even be your soulmate,” Your strong tone of voice wavering, “I’m completely wrong for you and will only leave you in heartbreak,” You sigh, “Do me a favor and cut that string and put us both out of our misery.” You request even though you’re fully aware that nothing and no one can terminate the connection the two of you share.

You can still dream, right?

Taehyung smiles, finding your little speech rather adorable. You’re scared, and if he’s being honest to his innermost feelings—the secrets that not even his close friends knows about—he’s terrified as well.

Yes, he has remained optimistic about the potential chance of you being his soulmate, but he has never once believed that it’ll come true.

He has read many books about this tiny string, and he has his fair share of experiences with his buddies all finding their one true love. Yet, he still feels under prepared for it.

You are his soulmate and you are standing right in front of him.

The person that he says will be his future wife. The future mother of his children. His everything.

Out of habit and with a nervous grin, he rubs the back of his neck while focusing his gaze onto the concrete sidewalk.

“Well…I might not be your first choice…but I’m willing to give this adventure a shot, if you are.” He says softly, stumbling over a few words.

His words catch you off guard. You stare at him, briefly taking note of how the sunset is creating a beautiful aura around him. Your lips slightly part while your heart begins to race.

Is this the sensation that Sumin felt once she gave in to the soulmate connection she shares with Mark Lee?

All of her fears vanished the moment she surrendered?

You think it is. You too feel the same burst of warmth in your heart as it spreads towards the rest of your body.

A genuine, sweet smile slowly graces your lips as you step closer to Taehyung. The boy you know has been staring at you in class. The boy that you notice in the background whenever you’re third-wheeling on Sumin’s and Mark Lee’s dates.

The young man that is going to take your hand and venture on this journey of uncertainty. He’s going to prove you wrong. You just know it.

“Just a heads up, I tend to get bored after week six so…” You tease as the distance between your chests is pretty much nonexistent.

Taehyung laughs; his smile shining so bright, “I’m not worried. If anything, that makes it a challenge for me to keep you interested even with our special connection.”

This time it’s your turn to laugh and smile so wide that your cheeks are actually hurting.

“I wish you luck then. I hear that I am quite difficult to please.”

“We shall see about that, my lady. We shall see.”

A/N: This little one shot is dedicated to @softjeon, my soup friend/hubby. Without her, Our Second Chance wouldn’t even have five chapters planned, written, and published (the 6th chapter shall be written either over the weekend or next weekend once this is published!) I also wouldn’t even have an overall plot idea for my upcoming Detective!/1940s!AU Mark Lee story. She is my go to brainstorming buddy, and I am forever grateful to have her as one of my close friends!

Let me know what you think about this one shot! This is my first time writing a soulmate!AU :)

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/message in my inbox! I love to hear your thoughts!

- Kim

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the-dirt-king · 5 years

Text

Looking for Creepy Pasta RP

Ha ha, I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it but I’ve fallen into the deep end of the creepypasta fandom and am looking to RP with some OCs. I’m good with my partner using OCs or official characters and wouldn’t mind NSFW at all, though it’s not required. I personally will be role playing with OCs, a girl and a boy, and can do gay or straight ships/nsfw.

It’s also my personal head cannon that creepy pastas are somewhere between alive and dead, and so cannot be killed all the way, but can be taken out of commission for a while through typically mortal wounds, at least in most situations. I’m willing to be flexible with this though!

As far as NSFW goes, we can discuss that in private.

My characters are here! Please shoot me a message if you’re interested!

Basics

Name (& pronunciation): Tripp (trip) is all you need to know

Date of Birth (& age): July 9th (18)

Place of Birth: some small American town

Gender: Female

Species/Racial Origin: Human, white

Social Class/Community Status: Poor

Language: English

Family/Friends/Pets/Etc: Just the proxies she was raised with, none of which she’s fond of.

Physical Description

Height: 5’7

Weight: Underweight

Hair: Light brown, with a real hack job ending just at her chin, but several strands that are longer or shorter.

Eyes: Dull hazel and tired

Limb Dexterity: Clumsy

Detailed Physical Description: Trip is tall and lanky, with lean muscle but evident malnutrition. Her hair is messy, looking like somebody cut it with a pocket knife, and she’s pretty riddled with scars. Her most noticeable feature is a limp and a foot that’s not quite turned right from a mediocre attempt to fix a broken ankle, hence the nickname. Her eyes are wide and paranoid with noticeable bags beneath them.

Typical Clothing/Equipment: Old second hand clothes, but mostly hunting plaids and such, thicker material. She also wears a mask, though, it’s made of paper mache and sealant, and looks pretty torn up, but it still has a relative shape of a bird head to it.

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Depressed, tired

Skills/Talents: Tripp’s talented at murdering folks with whatever’s around, and pretty good at digging. Her favorite tool is a shovel, because she can hit people with it without letting them in stabbing range.

Favourites/Likes: Warm food, warm drinks, warm house, being away from work and the other proxies, soccer, critters, normal people

Most Hated/Dislikes: the other pastas, Especially the proxies above her, getting caught, people poking at her foot.

Goals/Ambitions: Escaping the Slenderman and living a normal life

Strengths: Creative, intelligent, desperate, fearless

Weaknesses: Slow as f u c k, easily over powered by folks in the business, clumsy on her feet, desperate

Fears: Tripp is terrified of Slenderman after the last time she tried to escape.

Hobbies/Interests: Wood carving, star gazing, rocks, neat bugs

Regular Routine: Wake up, eat, complete the day’s mission, go home, fail to sleep, pass out

Philosophy of Life: You give your life meaning, or somebody does it for you

Attitude Toward Death: she can’t wait, it’s got to happen sometime... right?

Religion/Beliefs: If there was a god, she wouldn’t be in this situation

Fetishes/Strange Behaviors: Always looking over her shoulder, starts coughing up black bile and leeches when she goes against the Slenderman

History: Tripp was kidnapped in the third grade or so as an offering to Slenderman, but was chosen as one of the many children to be raised as a proxy due to her physical skills as a soccer player. This was all as fine and dandy as it could be until she broke her ankle chasing who was supposed to be the next victim of the Slenderman in the seventh grade, and, considering she was mostly being raised by other children, it never healed right (turns out, broken bones need a splint and not just bandages. Who knew?) This led her to lose pretty much all of her agility, and led to the affectionate nickname of “Tripp”. Knowing that she was no longer valuable enough to keep, she tried to escape as a teenager only to be tracked down by the proxies she considered friends, who brought her back. She doesn’t really remember what happened next, but she hasn’t felt quite right since.

Sexual Preference/Experience/Values: She doesn’t know yet, having had no sexual experience, and only really hearing the basics

Education/Special Training: She was raised to kill, but not to go to school, so she isn’t great at maths and reading, much less grammar

Place/Type of Residence: The slender manor

Occupation: Proxy

Place of Work: Wherever the Slenderman wants her to go

Basics

Name (& pronunciation): James Jackson

Date of Birth (& age): October 4th, 18

Place of Birth: Somewhere in New York State

Gender: Male

Species/Racial Origin: Human, native/white mixed

Social Class/Community Status: Upper Middle class

Language: English

Family/Friends/Pets/Etc: Deceased

Physical Description

Height: Average

Weight: Average

Hair: Black

Eyes: Green

Limb Dexterity: Good

Detailed Physical Description: James is a fairy good looking guy, tan skin, white smile, pretty green eyes, the whole deal. He’s pretty averagely sized, but has some lean muscle to him.

Typical Clothing/Equipment: Nicer clothes, and a large hammer that he uses to smash heads. He wears a fancy bunny mask and calls himself the Easter Killer. The news papers call him the Red Rabbit instead. James is unhappy about this:

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Smug, cocky, and full of himself

Skills/Talents: James is fairly decent at murder, but by no means the best. He’s also good at school and is pretty smart

Favourites/Likes: Being an asshole, smashing shit, buying things, sports

Most Hated/Dislikes: The cops, freaky monsters, folks being better at things than him

Goals/Ambitions: Being remembered as a famous serial killer

Strengths: Pretty athletic and fast

Weaknesses: He’s too cocky and picks battles he can’t win

Fears: Getting forgotten, being caught, the freaky monsters that stalk him in the night

Hobbies/Interests: Murder, dark things, knifes, serial killers, revenge

Regular Routine: Pretty average, he fucks around during the day and then kills at night

Philosophy of Life: The purpose of living is to be remembered

Attitude Toward Death: Won’t happen to him

Religion/Beliefs: Christian, just doesn’t respect god

Fetishes/Strange Behaviors: It’s pretty weird to wear a rabbit mask while smashing people, but aight

Brief history: He didn’t take the car crash that killed his parents all too well, and started killing folks he believed deserved to die more than his parents. Once the news got involved, he started to get high off the attention. It’s too bad that once his killing spree got really rolling, he was chosen as a target for the Slenderman, and he shot himself in efforts to kill himself before the monster did. Clearly, it didn’t work, as he’s not quite dead now. He doesn’t like removing his mask though

Sexual Preference/Experience/Values: Bisexual, but doesn’t know it yet

Education/Special Training: Finished most high school, but no real murder training

Place/Type of Residence: On the run

Occupation: None

Place of Work: None

Work-related Skills: None

Past Occupations: Worked at his aunt’s restaurant for a tick.

#roleplay #open rp #oc rp #new rp #creepypasta #creepy pasta #my ocs #ocs

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depressed-kay · 6 years

Text

The Fire Soldier #2

This is a Soulmate! AU

Summary: Zemo thought he had killed all Winter soldiers. But he missed one thing. The Fire Soldier is the most powerful and dangerous Assassin HYDRA has ever created and trained. Bucky and the rest of the avengers find her and try to help her. Will she accept the help and what happens when Bucky finds out she is his soulmate?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

Word count: 1.541

Warnings: some swearing, maybe some angst (?), unedited

A/N: Pretty late for me to update, but I had a bad headache and couldn’t do shit. But now it’s out and I hope it’s okay and you enjoy it. :)

Enjoy it ^^

[PART 1]

Bucky couldn't believe what he just discovered. He searched so long and now he found her.

"Evelyn, one question. Do you know what the letters and the date on your wrist mean?" he asked her with caution and pointed towards the tattoo.

"I heard it has something to do with a soulmate. Mine is probably an old or a dead man. I don't know and I don't care anymore." she responded quietly while she stroked over it. He just smiled at her and pointed at her hand.

"My name is James Buchanan Barnes and I was born on the 10th of march 1917. " he explained with a smile on his lips. "And you are Evelyn Cole, born on the 13th of october 1938."

Evelyn looked at his wrist and then at Bucky again.

"You are my soulmate." she stated obviously in shock. "That can't be. This must be a dream and I'm still at a HYDRA facility."

"It's not a dream, Evelyn." Bucky stated and suddenly Evelyn jumped of the bed. Both of them felt something strange at their wrist. The tattoo disappeared and a new one appeared. It was the date 27.08.2018. The day they met.

"I think you should leave. I need some time. Especially after what you told me and what I just saw." Evelyn said. Bucky stood up and tried to take her hand but she backed away. "Please leave me alone. After what we've been through in the past, I don't think this would be right."

After that Bucky let go of her hand and looked at her with a sad expression. Then he left her room. He went into his own room and sat onto his bed. Suddenly he heard a knock on his door. Bucky stood up and opened it. It was Steve.

"Hey Pal. I wanted to get something to eat, wanna come along?" Steve asked with a smile on his face. His smile faded, when Steve noticed something was up. "What's wrong?"

"It's Evelyn. I found out, that she's my soulmate and she wasn't so happy about it." Bucky said.

"Are you sure it's her?" Steve asked and Bucky showed him his wrist. "Alright, it's definitely her. Well then, she will need some time to think about it. I was shocked too, when I found out that Nat is my soulmate. That's an important thing in the lives of everyone and it's not always easy to work things out, but that's definitely worth it. Maybe she wants to talk tomorrow, Bucky. Just stay calm and now let's go out and get something nice to eat. "

Steve patted his back as they walked out of his bedroom. They left the Avengers tower and walked to a chinese restaurant. They ordered food for everyone and went to the tower again.

At the tower again, Tony had to take care of Evelyn. F.R.I.D.A.Y had informed him, that something isn't right with her so he went to her room and knocked. She led him in and Tony closed the door behind him.

"What's wrong, supernova?" Tony asked as he sat down onto a chair. "F.R.I.D.A.Y informed me, that you seemed very stressed and confused."

"Bucky is my soulmate and I don't know what to do. And I don't know what I'm doing here. You don't need to babysit me. I can take care of myself you know." Evelyn mumbled.

"Well you can always leave but we just want to make sure you are safe and that you won't hurt any innocent people. After you burned down the infirmary, I was very angry you know. But I know you're just a scared girl and you're angry because of what HYDRA did to you. I read the files. They did some pretty bad shit to you and what metal arm did to you isn't forgivable, but he wasn't himself and you know it. They made him do it but after all that he is still your soulmate and you can't runaway from it." Tony comforted her. " I know, how I felt when I found out that Pepper is my soulmate. I was shocked but after I accepted it, I fell hard for her. She is my everything and I would die for her. Just give it a shot. I may not like Bucky very much, but he is a good man."

Evelyn was so happy Tony had talked to her. She hugged him and he hugged her back.

"Thank you so much, Tony. Not only for this but for giving me a place to stay and for all this stuff you gave me." She thanked and hugged him once again.

"No problem, Supernova. If you want to talk, just call F.R.I.D.A.Y and ask for me. Tomorrow will be the first day of training for you. We want to know, how strong you really are and by the way Steve should be back in a minute with some tasty chinese food, do you want to eat with us in the common room? " he grinned and looked at her.

"I don't know." she shrugged.

"Well then I'll do you a favor and let Bucky get you when they are back. See you later." Tony smiled and went out.

Evelyn needed to talk to Bucky as soon as possible. But maybe she just needs some sleep first. She took a look in the closet and found so many badass outfits. Most of them black and everything was her size. There were even some nice dresses in there with lot's of high heels and whatsoever. She wondered how they knew what she liked. As she changed into a plain white shirt and a short sleeping pants, she noticed some loud thoughts. They are Bucky's thoughts she realized.

'What is, if she doesn't want's to see me? Fuck it, it's now or never' Bucky thought and not a second later he knocked on her door. She said 'come in' and that's what he did.

"Hey Evelyn. I wanted to ask you, if you want to eat with us." he wondered. Evelyn stared at him and realized that he is the most handsome man she has ever seen. Not that she has seen a lot of man, but still.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I know you aren't the one who tortured me. But it could happen, that someone would manipulate you again. Force you to do it again." Evelyn worried. She played with her fingers, not daring to look at him.

"The book is destroyed. No one could force me to do it. Never again." he answered. He took a step forward and placed his finger under her chin, slowly lifting her head. She looked at him and she could feel everything. She felt love, anger, fear, angst, happiness.

"The code can still affect you, Bucky." Evelyn whispered and placed her hands on his temple. Her hands lit up and the whole room was lit. Bucky couldn't believe what was happening right now, the only thing he realized was that something changed in him. He felt like he had lost a bad part of him. "No one can ever manipulate you again. No activation code anymore. "

Bucky couldn't believe this. Even T'Challa's people couldn't remove the code from his brain. But Evelyn did it in a second and Bucky didn't know how to thank her.

"Bucky, you don't need to thank me for anything. I did it because you are my soulmate and I want to give it a shot. But only if you still want it." She pointed out. Bucky nodded and hugged her.

"Of course I want it." he grinned. "If you want I'll show you around New York a little after the training and I'll buy you some coffee."

"Sounds great." Evelyn smiled and they went to the common room to eat something.

"There comes metal arm and supernova!" Tony exclaimed. Sam threw an empty box at Tony, but before it hit him Evelyn stopped it with her telepathic ability and burned it in the air. "That's my Supernova right there Ladys and Gentleman!" With that said, Tony stood up and gave her an high five.

"You got yourself an guardian angel? How much did you pay her?" Sam joked with an sarcastic tone and everyone besides Tony and Evelyn chuckled.

The evening went really well and Evelyn befriended everyone.

"So you and Barnes are soulmates?" Natasha asked and both of them nodded. "You got a lot of things to talk about then." Nat smiled and looked over to Steve.

"It's late we better get going." Steve said and took Natasha with him. "Goodnight everyone and see you all tomorrow."

Evelyn and Bucky made themselves on the way to their rooms and talked a little.

"So after training, you'll show me around?" Evelyn asked and looked at Bucky.

"I can show you whatever you want, doll." he said with a smirk on his lips. "Just joking. But yes, after training I'm going to show you New York."

"I'm looking forward to it. Goodnight James." She smiled and gave him a small kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight, doll." He answered. He already fell for her. Bucky went into his room and his thought were all about Evelyn. And she could hear all his thoughts.

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shigironki · 6 years

Photo

~BIO FOR MY BULLY OC, VICTORIA CLAIRE KENNEDY~ i feel like i left too much out for my baby girl, and also changed so much of her. :B ALSO I FINALLY GOT OFF MY LAZY ASS AND MADE HER A FULL BIO, GO ME!!

Biographical Information Name – Victoria Claire Kennedy Age - 17, sophomore year Birthday – September 7th Astrological Sign - virgo Gender - female Ethnicities Distant Descendants: none that she truly knows currently.

Dominant Descendants: American Physical Description Hair Color – hazel/black hair, very wavy and curly, never has it straight Eye Color - Hazel Weight – 165 lb Height – 5′5 ft Figure/Build – Is an hour glass figure, thighs are big, is 37 C cup, curvy waist, and has slight chub onto her stomach, face is chubby as well. Distinguishing Features/Scars/ or Birthmarks – There are scars (very light; you can’t see them unless you look very close) on her right wrist that are medium sized, very light. has a scar onto her knee from when she was little. Has stretch marks on her hips that are very deep, and also on her breast, arms, and knees. She does have freckles, on her face, shoulders, and crotch-area. Tattoos: none Piercings: has two little piercings on her ears, and a nipple piercing

Frequently Worn Jewelry: She tends to wear rings on her middle finger, does wear chokers (mainly black, but sometimes pink as well).

Typical Clothing Wear: Victoria tends to wear her school uniforms more often, but out of school she tends to wear cutesy clothes; pink shorts, “kawaii” dresses/skirts, formal shirts. She does also tend to wear one of Johnny or Gary’s shirts (ones they gave to her) With a pair of leggings. Never wears jeans unless they’re shorts.

Personal Information

Current Living Arrangements - Currently lives in a two story home in towards the forested areas of Bullworth.

Traveled Territories – She currently has only traveled from Florida (last home) to Bullworth.

Hobbies - Writing, knitting, playing games, drawing, and sleeping a lot.

Fears – Abandonment, overcrowded places, the dark, father, and abandoned places.

Religion/Beliefs – Currently has no idea.

Why?: She was raised in a non-religion family household, her parents nor grandparents never really got her into religion

Health Behaviors

Physical Ailments/ Disabilities/ Issues – Currently has PTSD, MDD, anxiety and Bipolar Disorder. She has has loss of feeling in her pinky on the right side of her wrist.

Addiction(s) [Sex, Drugs, Smoking, Alcohol, Other]: She currently smokes pot, and has trouble saving money and spending it on important stuff

Why?: Smoking pot helps her calm down, and it was sorta forced onto her at a young age (13 years old) and she never really tried quitting, along with money, she never fully had anything so spending it on stuff she immediately loves is “always the right thing”

Any regular medication taken? – Antidepressants, and nighttime medications.

Chronological Information

Profession – A waitress for a local diner

Likes – Pastel clothes, cute stuff animals, animal crossing, Word Of Warcraft, G&G, and reading, along with smelling candles and perfume

Dislikes – Anyone who’s a dick, bullying, toxic people, and acne

Goals/Ambitions – Currently wants to be a nurse for a children’s hospital

Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience – Mainly her childhood; as she was bullied to the extreme, she turned off her emotions and stopped caring for others. Along with her father being put into jail, she grew with her grandparents and with her two sisters. This caused her to go into a mental meltdown, soon cursing and getting extreme mood swings, and with getting into violent situations, she grew hating everyone and everything, and never letting anymore get close to her.

Weapons/Equipment – Mainly uses her fist and feet for combat, also carries a rainbow pocket knife for protection. (She also has a Hello Kitty bat in her dorm room in case).

Personal Attributes

Personality - Victoria’s personality can be summed up with two words; asshole, and caring person. As she grew with showing nor feeling any emotions, it takes her awhile to understand which emotion she’s currently feeling, which ends with being a bitch towards others in defense, and even being sarcastic towards those she feels are gonna toy with her or use her. She’s very hard to get used to, or even close to, but once you do, she’s a very gentle and sweet girl. She truly cares about those that have shown her love and kindness, and sometimes gets too trusting and stops caring for herself, just to love those who have shown her politeness and love. She gets carried away too much, and sometimes overreacts to stuff very quickly, but once you get close, she will truly love you for who you are and accepts you instantly.

Strengths - Quirky and very funny, knows a lot about science and math, knows how to fight, very good at talking out of sticky situations, persuasive to the maximum, and knows how to copy someone else handwriting very quickly.

Weaknesses - Very angered easily, low self-esteem, her PTSD makes her scared of being hurt and yelled at, cannot be in the same room as a male adult, trust too easily, cries nearly about everything.

Good Habits – Tries to be there for everyone, helps when needed, charismatic, drops everything for others.

Bad Habits – Doesn’t watch her language as often, eats waay too much, gets upset and irritated instantly, makes everything into a joke about herself, (Doesn’t do this anymore) uses pain as a way to help her emotions onto herself.

Fetishes/Strange Behaviors – No fetishes, but does bite her ear bud cords, shakes her legs hard, bites her nails and sweater sleeves.

Stereotype – With wearing cute clothes and looking very sweet, she certainly does not fit the stereotype. She’s a potty mouth, bluntly tells the truth, and makes sure people know not to ever mess with her.

Ratings on Personal Qualities

Physical Strength: 7/10 As good as she is with fighting, she currently does feel pain a lot more than normal, as in one good punch to her and she’s down to the ground.

Attractive: 7/10 her outfits put people off instantly, but people seem to admire how she looks in a lot of pastel colors.

Honesty : 4/10 As much as she wants to tell the truth most times, she sadly can’t bring herself to tell the full truth about someone. She cares more about the person than the harsh truth.

Rule Abiding : 3/10 Lmao, rules? They don’t exist much to Victoria. She does break a lot of school rules, but makes sure to never break her home rules or grandparents.

Sociability : 8/10 She truly is the social butterfly type. Cliques don’t matter to her at all, she likes you? She’ll want to be your friend instantly.

Bullworth Academy Information

Victoria has attended Bullworth for two years, for freshmen and now sophomore. As she dropped out of middle school to get her life more stress free, she had to repeat 8th grade in order to go into high school. And with all the troubles she had caused in Florida, Bullworth was the only academy to accept her.

Knowledgeability

Language(s) – English, and French.

Schooling Level – Sophomore(??)

Expertise – languages

Reading Level – above average

Relationships Statuses

Trusted Companions

Closest Friend(s) – Beatrice Trudeau

Even with Victoria not so big into math or any subject, her and Beatrice have been extremely close since Freshmen year. They both have a close friendship, and are there for each other 24/7, no matter the situation. She doesn’t like some of her best friends choices, but she makes sure she’s okay and safe and sound. ((When her and Jimmy “had a falling out” Victoria was there for her all night, helping her and making sure she was okay)).

Friend(s) – cornelius johnson, algernon papadopoulos, peanut romano, lola lombardi, petey kowalski, jimmy hopkins

* cornelius johnson: They both enjoy musicals, and science most of the time. She tends to go to him for the latest update of a musical that’s going on, and they both can giggle and cry over anything like Romeo and Juliet. They’re good friends for sure, and never really hang outside of school.

* algernon papadopoulos: As much as the two never see eye to eye, they usually have a good time during G&G, him joking about her “Edgy” characters she plays, and make jokes about the campaign. She never bothers to get to know him, as she never has the energy to handle his excitement, or usually understand what he’s talking about.

* Peanut Romano: He’s her first ever real friend when she had gotten to Bullworth, and nothing makes her happy than to hear about what Lucky or Ricky did that was stupid. She sees Peanut as a brother type of person she can trust, she tends to go to him when she feels like Johnny’s out of line, or what to do when he’s not okay. They both really enjoy each other’s company.

* Lola Lombardi: They both didn’t see eye to eye after her and Johnny broke up, and Victoria began to date him. Of course, with some small talk and hanging out, they both became good friends instantly, with Lola showing what type of clothes could get Johnny going, or helping her with make up tips. Lola is a type of friend to listen to Victoria talk about anything and just nod and agree.

* jimmy hopkins: As much as he isn’t okay with her dating both Gary and Johnny, he’s still there for her a lot of times. They have a weird friendship, at times they wouldn't’ speak to each other for weeks on end, then the next time they’re talking non stop and making a fuss in the classroom. *Pete kowalski: Victoria was really the one to never call him a dork or a loser, she actually enjoys hanging out with him, playing video games and talking about drama of the school. She does love his comebacks to Gary a lot of times, and always is there for him no matter what.

Hated Rivals

Worst Enemies – The Jocks, she truly hates them all due to constant bullying they do with the nerds.

Intolerable Students –

* Mandy Wiles: With her constant putting down on Beatrice, she truly cannot stand Mandy for the dear life of her. The constant joking and poking fun at her best friend, it made her hate her instantly as soon as she had gotten there.

Tolerated Students – She doesn’t tolerate much people, either she likes you, dislikes you, or just doesn't talk much to you.

Tolerated Townsfolk - No one currently

Hot Encounters

Hinted Attractions - Gary Smith, Johnny Vincent (before they all had began to date)

Crush(es) - none

Lover(s) - Gary Smith, Johnny Vincent.

She wasn’t fond of Gary at first, but given that they started to tolerate each other, she began to learn more and more about him, understanding where he’s coming from as she had parents who didn’t care for her, or wouldn’t try to. They became friends with benefits at first, as she was hypersexual and he wanted a stress relief, but as soon as they made it a normal thing, he began to develop a crush for her, hating it ever so much as she got into a relationship with Johnny. As she brought up that she could date both of them, with their consent of course, Johnny wasn’t okay with it at all first, as that was his girl and only his, but as she began to stress more and more about this, he caved in and gave it a try. It was all very stressful and full of fighting until Johnny began to try and get close and get used to his presence. They’re all fully comfortable now, still some annoyance from both boys here and there, but it’s easily resolved.

Ex(s) - Unless you count people who dated her for a day, then no

Extra Information

Eating Habits

Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore – omnivore

Favorite Food(s): Bagel Bites

Favorite Drink(s): Soda, red bulls, smoothies, and orange juice

Disliked Food(s): peas, Brussels sprouts, and tomatoes

Disliked Drink(s): tea

Added Information

Scent – Lavender, and/or honey

Favorite Color: black, pastel colors

Favorite Season: summer

Favorite Animal: frogs, chickens, bunnies, and cats

Favorite Music Genre: kpop, 2000′s pop, 80′s, 90′s, and death metal

#art taggy #bully oc #canis canem edit #bully scholarship edition #cce #self ship #self insert #victoria kennedy #this took so long jfc

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frolick-crow · 8 years

Note

Diana and Alistair in 1,2,3,6,8,18,20,21,23,25,30,33,38,37,40,41(pretty please)

Sorry for taking so long. This was a big list and I wanted to make sure I answered everything correctly. (Link to the prompt)

1. Fav color?

Diana - periwinkle, it’s the perfect combination between her other two favorite colors, blue and pink. Alistair - orange, it reminds him of the sun setting and rising; he finds that really relaxing to watch..

2. Does your OC collect anything?

Diana - she sometimes collects crystals. They grow all around the kingdom she lives in. Some act as elements for spells and supernatural powers. Alistair - around the winter time, he’ll collect whatever he can that can provide him warmth, otherwise he’d be stuck with nothing but the clothes on his back.

3. Allergies? Honestly, neither are allergic to anything. Being a magical being, Diana doesn’t get sick too often, and Alistair has a pretty good immune system himself.

6. Favorite animal? least favorite animal? In the monster world, there are some monsters that act like pets and wild animals, so I’ll use those instead, as there aren’t any animals you’d find on Earth in that world.

Neither Diana or Alistair have a favorite “animal”, but they do have a least favorite.

Diana - there’s a creature called a Narx that’s like a large rat about the size of a small dog (this was also an earlier character, but now they’ll be a minor character later in the story). They rummage through garbage and live mostly in urban areas. Like most monsters, she sees them as pests, but would never try to hurt them, especially if they haven’t done anything to her.

Alistair - I won’t say this is his least favorite, but he has had bad experiences with them, Ogrehunds (i.e. Victoria’s pet, Princess). It’s the really big ones he dislikes because they can be the most aggressive and territorial.

8. OC’s theme song? I’d like to use video game BG music to answer this (I have other ideas, but this helped narrowed my choices down).

Diana - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtYwq4aBr0E

Alistair - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIt4u-VdAP4

18. Greatest fears? Strengths? Weaknesses?

Diana - greatest fear, being trapped in an endless black void; extreme darkness really unsettles her. Greatest strength, communication skills. She’s a very social creature with a lot of other monsters on her side, and not just because she’s a well know queen. She’s also given the community copious amounts of sincerity and solicitude. Her greatest weakness would be her emotions. She’s got a lot of passion in her, and that can lead to her making some impulsive decisions and reactions.

Alistair - greatest fear, needles or getting a shot; never liked them as a kid and doesn’t like them now. Greatest strength, his agility; he can think quick on his feet if he’s focused and can escape dangerous situations easily. Greatest weakness, sometimes his sympathy towards others; he’s prone to being fooled by people who pretend to be more pitiful than him.

20. If they came from their world to ours (if not already in our’s) how would they react? What would they do? Diana - she’d try her best to blend in with the human’s customs; she takes respecting other’s cultures very seriously. Then she’d politely ask the natives what they do normally in their free time, or what kind of social activities humans do. Alistair - he’d find humans really weird looking. He’s be baffled by the lack of claws, fur, scales, wings, etc. The first thing he’d do is look for food, might even go up to a human directly and ask them where he could get something to eat. Then he’d find a nice alley to rest at.

21. What personal problems/issues do they have? Pet peeves?

Diana - personal issues, she longs for a soulmate; her father wants her to be with someone that’s the same species of her, but same species relationships don’t matter to her. Pet peeves, when people call her a princess instead of a queen. It’s one thing when it’s an accident, but when people call her that in a condescending way, that’s when it gets her annoyed.

Alistair - personal issues, a lot of people judge him for his reckless behavior, and he uses that as an excuse for expressing himself. He hates admitting it, but sometimes that behavior of his does more harm than good. Pet peeves, when people call him reckless solely because he’s a Ghoul.

23. Random fact about OC?

Diana - she doesn’t eat meat of any kind, excluding insects and spiders, which she rarely eats anyway. A Beelzebats diet consists of mostly of fruits and vegetables.

Alistair - sometimes tiny creatures will crawl in his hair and make themselves at home — and he won’t even notice! He’ll even eat them if he gets hungry.

25. What inspired you to create them / how did you create them? Were they originally a fan character? What was their personality / design like when you first made them?

Diana - well she’s based off some fan art of a character that belonged to someone else, then I wanted to make a character a bit similar to that character I drew. After that, she kind of spun into something a little more original. I wanted her to be a pop star queen who had a very seductive personality. She was a little bit skinnier too, but now I like drawing her a little plump and voluptuous.

Alistair - he was inspired by an old OC of mine that was created about a year before I came up with Never Normal. When I decided to put him in the story, he had Henrik’s role, a waiter at a monster themed restaurant/bar (Henrik was not imagined at that time, btw). After some development, I gave him a bigger role, and he became Pip’s “guardian angel”. His appearance was more human like and he was barely a monster. Originally he was an undead person, a human that was killed in the monster world and brought back to life. I made him a monster afterwards. As for his personality, he was more gentleman like, and much wiser in the past.

30. Do they want to get married? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they have kids? Why?

Diana - she’d most definitely want to get married and start a family of her own. She loves kids and hopes be a mother one day.

Alistair - he wouldn’t mind getting married, but he’s not too sure about having kids. It’s not that he hates kids, he just doesn’t like all that responsibility put on him.

33. Would they ever kill someone? What would someone have to do to push them to kill someone? If they would kill someone, why?

Diana would try her best to avoid killing any living creature, but if they were to post any threat to the monsters in her kingdom, she would do whatever it takes to protect them.

Alistair, on the other hand, wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone that threatened to hurt the ones he cared about. When he fights back, he fights back hard, and Ghouls can be deadly if they fight too viciously.

37. What’s something that your character does, that other people don’t normally do? Being nocturnal, Diana sleeps during the day and wakes up when dusk arrives. Alistair loves high places and will sometimes climb up buildings in the city just for fun or to relieve stress.

38. What would your character do with a million dollars? Diana would most likely donate it to someone who needs it; she’s already pretty wealthy herself. Alistair would use it to find himself a home, then save most of it for later.

40. Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with?

Diana - if she were going somewhere fancy and on a date, she’s wear something classy and formal. If she went to a nightclub, she’d most likely go in her usual purple dress with a few accessories. Her clothes have to be custom made because she’s one of the more larger monsters, and not a lot of stores have her size. She doesn’t have many “close” friends, but there’s almost always a small group of monsters hanging out with her when she’s out and about.

Alistair - he’ll never dress fancy for anything, and will most likely be late for the occasion. He goes to a lot of places alone and not too many monsters would volunteer to go out with him. He’d prefer a night out somewhere outside; interiors have strange smells that he has a hard time getting used to and it only makes him anxious and distracted.

41. What does your character do when they’re angry? Why?

When Diana gets really angry, her emotions can make her telekinetic powers go haywire. Stuff will fly around, break, and even explode.

Alistair doesn’t get all that angry unless he’s defensive about something. he can go from totally calm to rage within seconds. His appearance changes as well; his eyes will change colors, his teeth will get longer, and will behave much more savage like. This is a natural trait for Ghouls though, but he’s capable of maintaining self control since he was raised outside his natural habitat.

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beanplague-moved · 8 years

Note

Tell Me with any of ur ocs?

aa thank u for the request anon!! ilu.

also for future reference please send oc related asks to @underwaterpolitics, my oc blog. this oneshot is a longin and kinda rushed due to me being super in love with my ocs and shit.

Florence is good at keeping secrets. And maybe that’s because, for the most part, she has never had anyone to tell them to. There has never been a siren or a human so invested in what Florence has to say.

(Still, she is... hesitant to say that now, for whatever reason. She can’t exactly pinpoint it.)

Still, Florence likes keeping secrets. Secrets are small, valuable things. Like pearls, or the shiny, silver key that she swiped from Laila’s nightstand.

(She doesn’t know what it opens, but Florence was bored. Laila will probably look for it later, when she realizes it’s gone, and she knows Florence likes to take things.)

Secrets can be keys in their own right. They open doors to certain places, or people, even. They have a weight to them, coming from the most simple and the most complex places, opening the largest and smallest doors. Florence likes them a lot. Still, she never speaks of them. Any secret she has learned remains locked away, never to be spoken to someone.

Why is it, then, that this secret presses on, insistent that Florence speak it? Florence doesn’t even know what the secret is, let alone why she would tell anyone about it. Still, it continues gently tugging on her heartstrings and vocal cords. Florence doesn’t understand it at all, and she gains no clarity as it persists. She theorizes that it might be an illness.

Yes, an illness. It explains the symptoms, of course. The hammering in her chest when Laila―strong, intriguing Laila. Laila who defies siren curses and makes Florence’s face warm when she touches her hand―looks at her, sometimes. The contentment, and the little bit of excitement she feels when she looks at Troye for too long. She doesn’t understand it at all, so it must be a sickness.

She doesn’t even understand why it’s a secret. These are strange occurrences, outliers in Florence’s usual behavior. They should not make her nervous. She shouldn’t be scared of Laila or Troye finding out that she’s ill.

Yet still, when she thinks about them knowing... it makes her heart sink in her chest. Florence has never understood humans and their constant yammering about their hearts. Florence’s heart is just that, a heart. A heart that pumps her blood (very slowly, compared to humans. She’s lain upon a human’s chest and listened to their heartbeat. She couldn’t count all the times it pounded. One, two, did she miss one? she might have missed a small one.) and stops a bit when Troye smiles at her.

Maybe it’s a hex. Of course, Laila and Troye hexing someone is unlikely. They aren’t spellcasters, as far as Florence can tell, and she’s knows a lot about spellcasters. One of her victims was one, and unlike all the humans here, she spoke in a language Florence understood.

All these symptoms, this speeding of her heart and this fire that lights in her skin whenever one of them touches her, it only happens with Troye and Laila. The other one―the small, suspicious one who’s name fails to grace Florence’s memory―doesn’t do it. And Achilles―who reminds Florence of distant memories involving friendly smiles and a siren who looked like her, hunger included―doesn’t, either. (Nor does Andre, who is full of magic. Florence can tell. He smells like magic, which is hard to say, because most magic smells like an assortment of unscented flowers, but his smells like tea and the act of yearning.) So it must be a spell.

They wouldn’t do that, though. Laila and Troye don’t hate Florence. In fact, they seem charmed by her. They smile at her sometimes, when not distracted by something else, or each other. They seem so happy, when they look at each other. Florence doesn’t know why, but she wonders what that happiness must feel like. If it explains this phenomenon that has begun.

“Don’t play with your food.” Some familiar voice chimes in as Florence sorts through this explanation. She lies on the couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering what she might be feeling, if she is feeling. Sirens feel things. Things like hunger and lust and selfishness. They are creatures meant to feed on the selfishness of man. (And his flesh, but. The selfishness thing, too.) Florence knows those feelings. She’s as familiar with them as one is with a particularly good, if needy, friend. These... feelings, if that’s what they are, are foreign.

Florence keeps the secret deep in her chest, burying it beneath piles of loneliness and other sad memories (most of which involve that siren. It’s very odd. Florence doesn’t even remember their name. She knows that they looked like her. Red hair and pale skin, but it’s all blurry and smoothed out. No flaws or protruding details, still, each memory hurts just as much as the last) and closes her eyes, ready to let it drown in the lonely, memory-devouring ocean filling her ribcage.

And while she tosses and turns in her sleep, it claws its way to the shores of her mind and asks her, once again, if she would speak it.

Laila says something silly while they are eating. (Florence thinks it’s supposed to be silly. She doesn’t understand what’s being said, but Troye giggles when she says it, and he flashes a smile that makes Florence’s heart go almost as fast as a human’s does.)

She wonders if this hex has really gotten so bad, and yet she isn’t even convinced it could be a hex. It isn’t always... bad. Florence wants to smile when Troye or Laila smiles, and makes her laugh when they do. (Though she always laughs a little bit too loudly and for a little bit too long.)

It hurts, sometimes, though. When Florence things about telling them, there is this foreboding feeling that takes over her. This shipwreck in her chest that warns, do not. Yet when she thinks about not telling them, about going the entire time here without telling them, it still hurts. It pinches her heartstrings and begs her, please, do.

Florence doesn’t know what to do.

“Troye.” She whispers. They sit by the yard, on the deck. He’s so tall. Florence cranes her neck a bit to look up at him. Maybe he can keep secrets just as well as she can. “Troye.” She repeats. How could she tell him? She doesn’t know his words.

“Florence?” Troye always has this sort of sweet, gentle expression on his face. It reminds Florence of how squishy humans are. How she holds a lot of strength in her body. How she can’t bring herself to hurt either of the humans, for some reason.

“Troye.” She echoes herself again. “I...” she tries, “you.” She shakes her head a bit, and suddenly her thoughts dissolve into this cloud that blocks off all useful thought. Why can’t humans speak a better language? Why can’t Troye and Laila speak the one human language Florence knows? Why doesn’t she understand any of this? Why is it making her eyes wet?

The warm, salty fluid that runs down her cheeks isn’t apparent to Florence until Troye pulls her into a hug. It’s weird. Him touching her makes her skin heat up, and it makes her want to stop crying. Stop crying. She demands herself, but for some reason, her eyes don’t listen.

“Troye.” She murmurs into his shirt. Florence doesn’t understand why she didn’t know what Troye smelled like until now. She knows what Andre smelled like, and she knows that Achilles smells like pond, and fish. (All mermaids do.) And Laila―pretty Laila, who Florence kissed on the first day they met and didn’t feel this way then―smelled like ocean on the day Florence met her. Now she smells like soap and something familiar.

Troye smells like sweet things. He smells like sweet foods (the kind made of chocolate and some of mix. Florence has eaten them once or twice. She’s definitely seen Troye make them.)

All-consuming Troye, who wraps his arms around people who cry for no discernible reason and heals without knowing he is healing. Florence feels undeserving, but she’s not sure why. Troye is close to her, and maybe that is too much. Maybe Troye, a star brighter than others, should only stand near stars just as bright. He shouldn’t stay back and illuminate the dark, unknowing cave that inhibits Florence.

Still, Florence holds onto him tightly, because letting go would mean seeing only the dark again. She thinks he might have kissed her. Softly. On the top of her forehead, right before her hair.

“Heart.” She says, but she doesn’t think he knows what she means.

Laila is different. Laila is three weeks later, when all inopportune crying is forgotten and all sad-songs are already sung. When playfighting becomes something they do often.

Florence is strong, and so is Laila. They’re strong in different ways, however. Florence is strong in the siren way, where she has sharp nails that dig her way into more trouble and sharp teeth that aid her when she’s hungry.

(and when she is hungry, she is most definitely stronger than Laila.)

Laila is strong in the Laila way, where she swims constantly and runs when she isn’t swimming, and fights when she isn’t running. Laila is strong because she works to be, and somehow makes it look effortless.

They play in the yard, with Florence and Laila working to see who can pin the other down. That secret that Florence has keeps popping up every now and then, because Laila keeps touching Florence (which is kind of the point) and Florence’s skin keeps pricking up.

Laila manages to pin Florence down, and Florence is... confused.

Pretty girls have pinned Florence down several times before. This particular situation isn’t new. (Though Florence has a distinct feeling that this won’t end in sex, which is sad. She’s never been attracted to someone (is that what it is? attraction? it seems like more than that, somehow) like she is to Laila. Yet looking up at Laila is... nice.

Because Florence remembers, quite suddenly, that she’s kissed Laila before. Florence has never particularly cared about kissing. It’s not food, and it’s not sex, and those are two of Florence’s greatest pleasures in life.

(The list goes,1. food.2. sex.3. seashells and other trinkets. (they count as one item, and that item is “shiny things that can be found on a beach)4. kissing. (and that was because it usually led up to 2.)

Florence doesn’t really know the rules about kissing. When she did it the first time, with Laila, it seemed unwarranted. (She was doing it to transfer a curse. A curse that Laila already had, but still. It didn’t mean anything, so why does she think about it now?) She knows that Troye and Laila kiss, a lot. They talk and kiss and touch, for seemingly no other reason than enjoying it with each other. It’s incredibly strange, to Florence.

Yet Florence still really, really wants to kiss Laila. Not even for any implications to where it might lead, but so that she can kiss Laila. She examines Laila’s expression, which goes from joy at winning their playfight to a sort of curious look. And then,

And then Florence can’t say anymore, because Laila―pretty Laila, smart Laila, strong Laila, beautiful Laila―kisses her.

Florence barely has time to process it. She feels Laila’s fingers stroke the end of her red hair, and she holds on tightly to this. This moment and this warmth and this kiss.

“Yeah,” Laila says, when she pulls away. She looks at Florence with this sort of amazed look, and Florence is kind of impatient. Can’t there be more kissing? “Yeah. Troye was. Troye was right.” she knows Florence can’t understand her. Why is she talking when they could still be kissing?

They kiss again, and Florence gets the feeling that Laila is confessing to something in it. “Like you.” Laila whispers when they pull back again. “I like you.” And then she chuckles. “I’m really glad you can’t understand me.”

Heart, Florence thinks, I like you. It has to mean that. It has to.

this got way fuckin out of hand and. it needs work? like, not pictured: troye and laila having a talk about their mutual affection for florence. and this is like a weird au where they’ve known florence for longer. (their romance is a lot slower and less jarring from their specific perspectives, and they have a Good Honest Conversation about their feelings for her and their polyamory situation, should there be one.

also florence 100% cries with a completely blank expression. :’I. it florence.

these are my shitty ocs and you’re watching disney channel.

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3one3 · 8 years

Text

The Sequel - 803

The Old Postman’s Route

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Okay listen to this.”

“Take the spoon out of your mouth and I might be able to.”

“Gone are the days of simply having a large stateroom forward on the main or upper deck. Today’s large yachts require a whole apartment on a private deck to satiate superyacht owners,” Christina read from her yacht magazine after putting her spoon down in a bowl of pineapple chia pudding. She was lying on her tummy on the floor in one of Juan’s many sitting rooms, on a particularly plush area rug, to enjoy her magazine over breakfast late enough to qualify as lunch. “Witness Blohm & Voss-built superyacht Eclipse, currently the second largest yacht in the world at 162.5 meters, with an owner’s deck measuring about 56 meters in length. That’s the length of my entire boat,” she commented with extra emphasis. “My whole boat is the size of their “owner’s deck”. Isn’t the entire boat considered the “owner’s deck”? Do they not own the whole boat? Are they renting half out to deep sea fishermen while they’re out cruising?”

It wasn’t particularly warm in Mallorca on Monday but it was significantly warmer than Sweden, or even London, and warm enough to open three sets of French doors to let fresh air in to mix with the heat of the crackling fire under the unused TV. Christina enjoyed the contrasting sensations of periodic goosebumps from the incoming breeze on her bare legs and the comforting glow reaching for her from the burning wood. She really, really wanted to see Lukas, but figured that, other than not seeing him in 5 days, there was nothing she would rather do after the horse show than lie on the fuzzy carpet in just a t-shirt with a magazine in which she did not feature, tasty fresh food, and a companion who could entertain himself instead of needing her attention or assistance every three minutes. Being away from Lukas was perhaps “best” quantified in that manner. It was never good but if it had to happen, his mom could at least focus on the relief from responsibility. Not even André could be counted on for peace and quiet to read a lot of the time, so it was truly a privilege.

“You yacht owners have such important moral issues to define in your community,” Juan joked flatly. “Some of you fight the materialistic culture to keep your group grounded, while others embrace excess and freedom to live how they like.” He was sitting on the couch with his laptop and his bowl of pineapple chia pudding and cubed fruit. Since his friend’s last visit to the beach house, a caretaker was hired to look after the place and mostly so that thieves and intruders who might case the neighborhood over a period of time wouldn’t find the driveway empty and the lights off every day. A practical side benefit of employing this woman, who also handled housekeeping duties and monitored the grounds for landscaping needs and any repair services, was having someone to send to the market to pick up groceries when Christina was too lazy to get out of bed at a respectable hour. She woke up at 7, out of habit, and complained that because Juan didn’t want to do any grocery shopping when they arrived from Sweden the night before, there was nothing to eat in the house and thus even if she weren’t exhausted and very interested in remaining in the bed with the beautiful sea view for several more hours, she wouldn’t want to wake up again because she’d be starving and there would be no food. Her host told her to write a list of ingredients and he texted it to this caretaker, who then did the shopping and delivered the food right to the kitchen for the rider when she relented and extracted herself from those 1000-thread-count Frette linens. He made the coffee and she blended yogurt with pineapple and banana to mix with chia seeds and coconut flakes for a very normal, regular breakfast that she couldn’t have in Sweden.

“You say that like you’re not sitting in your eleventy-thousand square foot restored and modernized historic villa on the beach.”

“Yes, but not while I’m reading about other nice houses at the beach and complaining about what people who have bigger ones than me decide to do with them.”

“What are you doing?” The Gothenburg World Cup qualifier winner turned to look over her shoulder at Juan in the corner of the beige sofa. He shut the MacBook in his lap and was reaching for the bowl on the arm next to him.

“Wishing I had something to bounce off your behind,” he laughed. Her t-shirt didn’t quite cover her naked bum when it got stuck under her tummy. It covered everything when she got out of bed though, and would do so when she walked around the kitchen, so she was too lazy to go looking for underwear earlier. And actually, the reason she was without any in the first place was not related to sex. The rider indulged in a post-Palma-dinner bath in the pretty footed tub and then just never bothered to put clothes on afterward. She got into bed in a towel and then stole the shirt Juan set out to sleep in while he unpacked a few things. Christina slept in it instead, and he had to choose another.

She worried about herself shortly after doing things like that. That kind of behavior reminded her of something she would do when first dating a guy. It was a way to test boundaries, or experiment to see what response a new guy would have to her being cheeky, or selfish, or silly, in a fashion she hoped was cute. If a guy wasn’t into her being inconvenient, stealing his clothes, and displaying some slightly spoiled qualities, then she wasn’t into him. Obviously she and the Spaniard were well past that. They didn’t really have any boundaries left to test. So it was strange even to her that she would think of her behavior that way, and she hoped it was just because she was thinking too much about what was going on between them, and if it was changing- as if she were looking too hard for signs that a change had taken place or was underway.

“What else do you want to do today besides lie on the floor?” he asked between bites of his breakfast. The Chelsea man told her he was as happy to have her self-made food again as she was, despite not being on a hotel and horse show diet since Wednesday like she was.

“You teased a wine-themed hike last time,” she replied, unable to stop herself from smiling. I hate going on someone else’s holiday and then dictating the schedule and everything we do, but I really wanna go hiking, she reasoned, blushing outwardly at herself for wanting to do something so much that she just jumped right out with it instead of following her customary procedure of first deferring to her host. I need a few hours away from people and horses and things, in a place I don’t already know. Walking in the woods at home- or my old home, I guess- isn’t the same as exploring new “nature”. Hiking and long walks are good for my various stupid injuries too.

“It’s only wine-themed at the end. You walk the postman’s route from Esporles, like 30 minutes from here, toward the western shore, and you go through woods and some fields and things, a few hills probably, and then you get to Banyalbufar, which has some wineries. It’s right on the coast. It’s not like going wine tasting in Bordeaux though, cariña,” Juan chuckled warningly. “Banyalbufar is, as far as I know, a rustic little town where everyone makes their life from the land. I think they have one hotel and some restaurants, but I know you can visit the wine growers and have a small sample with some food.”

“Two things: I’ve been to Bordeaux three times and never saw a grape besides in a continental breakfast buffet, and how long is this postman’s route?” Christina dragged her bowl around the elbow she was leaning on so she could keep eating while they talked. How does he know everything about everywhere? When in his life did he have free time to learn about specific hiking paths from wherever to wherever? It’s not like he’s from here.

“I think it’s a couple of hours, depending how much you stop. I see it advertised all over though. It’s supposed to be easy. No mountains,” the seemingly infinitely knowledgeable player assured. “We could probably have Daniella drop us at the beginning and then pick us up in Banyalbufar. It’s only 15 or 20 minutes further by car. If you want to try it, we should go soon while the sun is out.”

“Do you want to? Are you in the mood for walking many kilometers?”

“Yeah, it’s a good idea.”

“How ‘bout this. Let’s finish eating, get dressed, probably with some layers, go check out this hike, have some wine and ham and cheese, and then when we get back can we go swimming and be lazy for a while and then go somewhere nice or otherwise interesting for late dinner? I brought a dress. I think you’ll like it.”

The itinerary was agreed and it wasn’t long before the two friends were waving goodbye to Juan’s lower ranking Antonio in training and heading off on the well marked route traveled back in the day by the mail man carrying correspondence from Palma west to more rural villages. Christina converted her horse show backpack for hike duty, replacing knee socks and extra hairnet packets with bananas and her sunglasses case, and her CWD polo with a long sleeve shirt in case she needed something between the sweatshirt she had on and the t-shirt underneath. The water bottle and baseball cap could stay.

The first part of the journey was through ancient abandoned olive terraces, out in the warm early afternoon sun. It was pretty easy going, and both athletes kept saying it was nice to use their muscles in a gentle and informal way- to do regenerative stretching and walking “freeform” instead of as part of a regimented and targeted plan repeated regularly. It was a little colder in the holm oak woods, where the rocky or cobbled route was mostly shaded. The slow ascension never felt taxing, but it demanded enough work that the hikers welcomed that cool shade. Juan liked the smell in the woods. The hardy winter plants were more fragrant and pretty and lush than the sort that could survive winter in London, or where he grew up in the north of Spain. It smelled like spring, and to Christina it smelled close to spring where she grew up as they reached the highest point on the walk and could finally see the sea, and the mountains in the distance. The salt air was what reminded her of Long Island.

The final trek into Banyalbufar, Arabic for “vineyard by the sea” or Moorish and Catalan for “founded by the sea”, depending where Google takes you, was by far the most beautiful and stimulating part of the hike. Steep terraced agricultural plots formed giant steps down the cliff right into the deep greenish blue sea. They used to be full of vines, Juan said, calling on the brief bit of history he read when verifying the feasibility of their plan online, but have been dedicated to vegetable production for a long time. The out of towners found a charming old town square, some shops with local products, and Cellar Son Vives, a tiny artisanal winemaking operation owned by a local. From his three hectares of land, some of which was on those difficult cliff-side terraces, his informative brochure said he produced about 15,000 bottles of wine per year, in 4 varieties. A brief stroll across one of those terraces, full of olive trees, lavender branches, and more of that salt air that influenced the grapes, led to a small tasting bar and a whole lot of “wow, this view”.

“Remind me again why I’m moving to cold, dreary, far-from-the-sea Germany?” the rider sighed as soon as their informative host left their veranda table with three wines to sample- one made solely from the native Malvasía grape, and two blends- and some food to nibble in between.

“Because André was too insecure to sit tight and find out what his situation would be at Chelsea.” The footballer beside her to enjoy the vintages, the charcuterie and cheese, and the beautiful Mediterranean told her very flatly.

“Well thank you, sir, for finally bringing some reality into a really nice day devoid of that concept,” she chortled back sarcastically. He held both hands up apologetically and haltingly.

“I didn’t mean to spoil it,” he smirked. They’d managed to spend a bit over three hours alone together without discussing any of the current events or themes in their lives. They talked about things they saw and things they found, like wildlife and pretty plants, and memories of similar experiences from other parts of their lives. They talked about other football clubs and managers, like Leicester sacking Ranieri, and Mourinho’s United picking up the EFL Cup trophy, and what was going on in all the leagues, away from Chelsea and Dortmund. And politics. A lot of politics. Nothing personal. “Which one do you like best?” Juan inquired about the wines.

“I dunno I haven’t tried them all yet. I like the first one though. It kind of reminds me of the sidra in Oviedo, because it’s like...unrefined maybe? It tastes like a homegrown product, not something for mass public consumption. I like that. It’s unique. I’ve never had a wine that tastes anything like this, you know?”

“Yeah. Does it hurt?” he added, gesturing with his head toward the ankle Christina was absently rubbing. The pair of friends were the only afternoon visitors to Son Vives, and the middle aged woman who showed them around, brought them food, and explained the story of the winery and the wines she poured for them, seemed to be the only employee on hand. Christina was okay with forgetting her manners, removing her sneakers, and sitting Indian-style in her chair in light of the lack of other eyes to offend. She was massaging the back of the lower part of her calf in her lap.

“It always hurts,” she shrugged behind her shades. “Do you want your sweatshirt? I can’t decide if it’s getting colder or I’m just less hot because we’re finally sitting down. I’m kinda cold, but not enough to put my hoody back on. I have my other shirt.”

“Come over here. I’ll keep you warm.” Juan lifted his arm and waved her under it, nonchalant and maybe just utilitarian. Their chairs were quite close anyway, and he didn’t sound like he was trying to be flirty or make a joke. The rider scooted her seat over right next to his, and leaned over into him so that he could fit his arm around her. It was a nice little place to be in the midst of another nice place, but she was cautious. I hope that lady doesn’t recognize him. We don’t need her taking a picture of this for the company Instagram and tagging him in it. She’d been wondering all day if Daniella, the caretaker, was sworn to secrecy, or if she’d signed a confidentiality agreement or something to ensure that she didn’t violate her famous employer’s privacy. “I hope you’re ready to be cold if you still want to swim when we get back, cariña,” the Chelsea man pointed out while taking some small sips from one of the blends. “The temperature is about to start dropping.”

“Yeah but the pool is heated. I’ll survive.” His friend rolled a nutty cheese with some sort of salty ham and tried not to get any crumbs on him when she ate it. “I pride myself on being able to weed out unnecessary items when I pack for my trips, and I packed a bathing suit. Ergo I must use it.”

“I had to help you choose between three pairs of running shoes before we left today. How are three pairs of running shoes necessary?”

“One pair is my comfy cloud shoes for at the horse show when I don’t have to wear my boots. I’m contractually obligated to wear a newish model. Then I have these- my trusty old stretchy, meshy, bouncy ones for the gym, and my cool kid trendy Ultraboost X shoes to wear in public when I want to look sporty but still put together. Duh.”

“I bet you brought other sneakers too, besides trainers.”

“I have some wedge sneakers, yes.”

“When are you and I going on a holiday that doesn’t require shoes?” The Spaniard dipped his head to kiss the top of hers, and she froze with her next piece of food on the way to her mouth. Is that lady totally gone or is she spying on us, she wondered, concerned about who might see what. Juan wasn’t usually so obvious- so forthcoming with the public displays of affection.

“I dunno,” she mumbled. “You mean like to a more tropical beach? Or on the boat?”

“I don’t know either, cariña,” he sighed. “I keep thinking of places to go with you where we could feel separate from the rest of life. Even last week at home, staying with you was like going away on a trip. I like trips with you because they’re like the way I want regular life to be. Does that make sense to you? When we go away we can be together the way I want us to be all the time. I don’t want you to be my holiday. I want you to be my everyday, because you make that better. This is better. Together is better. Then real holidays are even more special. I don’t know,” he repeated with another weighty, borderline frustrated sigh. “A regular day with you at home, with training, and riding, and rain, and stepping on toys...I feel the same doing that as I do today. It feels like the thing I want to get away to, not get away from.”

“But if you make the thing that feels like a vacation from everyday life into your everyday life, then it stops feeling like vacation,” Christina gently reminded. “It feels good because it’s something different. If it’s not different anymore then it stops feeling so great.”

“It’s been a long time already. We have a lot of time together since last summer. It’s also not the first time we have this. When Lukas was born we were together a lot. When you were, you know, my girlfriend, we were together quite a lot,” Juan teased. “It’s always felt right to me, and like how I want my “regular” to be. The only change now is that for a few weeks, for the first time, you don’t have an André problem that pushes you to me. Or if you do, you’re not talking about it. Normally it’s your problems with him that make you want to spend more time with me, and I get that, I understand why, and it’s okay. Now- no major problem with him.”

What he said was true, and the venue he picked to say it in was true too. His ex-girlfriend couldn’t see her way to deceiving herself on a steep cliff carved by generations into something like stadium seating to view the sea. It just seemed pointless up there. She asked herself if she couldn’t be honest with herself in that setting, so far removed from her life, wherever that currently existed, and honest with the guy she entrusted with so much of herself, and relied upon to translate her own confusion for her, then where could she be really, really honest. With the cold breeze, the departing sun, the salty air, and the chilled, gently dry finish of the white wine, it was impossible to keep up her strategic defense against her own thoughts.

“It’s not that I don’t have a problem with him right now,” she began, quiet and almost distant in tone. “It’s that I have come to accept that he and I have some problems that are fundamental now. They don’t go away. They’re just there. And I think the daylight between us- that space between me and him that has somehow become permanent- it leaves room for you, and for how I feel with you, and that makes everything more real. Because it’s totally...like...subconscious. I don’t have a counter weight inside to keep pulling me back and reminding me that the thing I want is somewhere else. I’m close to just accepting that the thing I want can’t exist. To be clear, what I’m saying is that I think the relationship that I thought I had with him and which I want to have with him might not be possible. He has this deep rooted doubt that I want to be with him and he lets it color his opinion on everything I say and do, and at the same time he’s sure all will be well once we live together again, and he doesn’t like that I don’t believe in that. He gets so micro-focused on things that he doesn’t acknowledge or deal with the big picture. These are major personality traits that I either didn’t see before or which didn’t exist before, and I don’t know how I live with them. I don’t know how we stop having fights caused by them. I’m in this place now where I’m moving into the new house with him and hoping his theory is right because I want it to be and I want to be with him, but it’s all against my gut feeling. It’s against my better judgement. I don’t think he’s right, and I don’t want- I don’t want...”

“You can say you don’t want to be with him if he’s wrong. You’re allowed to say that.”

“It hurts though. I don’t want to say it.”

“I know. You don’t have to. We both know you’re thinking it,” Juan said, his hand rubbing her side because she leaned over even further onto him while she talked.

“It was his idea that removing the pressure of having to worry about his feelings would make everything better,” she huffed. “He said if I knew for sure that he didn’t mind us hooking up or having whatever kind of relationship we want as long as it’s not the same as what I have with him, then I could relax and not feel so stressed out and afraid of my own feelings. That, he was definitely right about. I’m just afraid that now that I don’t have to fight my feelings and get caught up with the fight, I have to actually examine the feelings. It’s like I’ve been letting them breathe. You and me have practically been living together for almost two weeks and I have to keep asking myself if this is the kind of relationship Schü meant when he said it has to be different than what I have with him, but it is different, isn’t it? We don’t have sex all the time, or kiss each other hello and goodbye, and...I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m trying to get at. I guess...I guess the thing that is different lately isn’t that I’m not having Schü problems that send me into your waiting arms for the comfort and counsel you always provide, but that I’m so used to some of the problems that they’re like less devastating now, and he told me to ignore the other ones and do what I want because that’s what he wants for me.”

“The point for me is that when you aren’t devastated and just needing someone, as you say, and you’re free to follow wherever your heart takes you, it’s still coming to me. As bitter as it is for me that you’re moving now and I won’t get to see you as much, I look forward to finding out if I’m still the one you message whenever something happens, good, bad, funny, stupid, shocking, whatever.”

“You mean you look forward to me finding out.”

“Yes, that as well. But don’t worry about it, cariña. Things will happen and you’ll learn from them, and you’ll either be able to make your life in Germany what you want, or you’ll find out that it isn’t possible and you want something different. You should be relieved, actually, that finally you get to move on from the limbo and restart things, and find out what’s left.”

“I still share everything with him,” Christina argued meekly, wine glass already resting on her lower lip. “I still love him so much.”

“I know. I’m not asking for you to explain anything, or even to respond. I want to tell you what I’m thinking, is all. I have been informed most girls like it when you tell them how you feel instead of only letting your actions speak for you. I’m letting you know where I am right now, which is a place I really like. I’m trying to tell you how happy I am with you.” Juan patted her behind pretty hard since she was leaning over so far that she wasn’t sitting on it anymore, and his semi-laughing tone made her feel slightly better about the way the conversation was going. It was beginning to feel like he was making a case for her falling out of love with her husband, and that it was inevitable that she’d be returning to London soon enough after her relationship failed in Germany. Part of that read was simply reflection. Christina suspected herself of the same line of thinking. On top of the small amount of relief she gained from hearing that she was wrong, the rider was able to absorb what Juan said about how happy he was with her. She thought he was saying he was happy in general as a side effect of being around her so much, not that he was just happy when they were actually together. That was an important distinction to her, and it awakened a few moderately behaved butterflies in her tummy.

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