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queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years ago

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Teddy

Notes: This is my entry for @pagesoflauren Prompts:

So, this is love” from “So This is Love” by Ilene Woods and Mike Douglas from Cinderella

“Um, you...you fight good.” from Mulan

“This reminded me of you.”

Warnings: 18 +Only, dark themes, Dubious consent due to alcohol consumption, drunken sex, fingering, out door sex

Summary: a corporate event turns into hazy regret

Dark(maybe more grey) CEO Steve x Reader

🐻

Why they decided to hold a corporate event in the middle of the work week was beyond you. But you could only blame yourself for the alcohol consumption you partook in. Your head and body ached. You had taken a few aspirin before getting to work, but it didn't sooth the pains rippling through your body. Last night was a fog that you could barely piece together, but you weren't worried. You had made it home safe and your office mates had not blown up your phone with anything salacious.

You frowned at the continuous slowed traffic at your cubical when you approached. When you spotted the source you were surprised. A sweet little box with an oversized bow sat on top of your keyboard with a tiny little note. Your coworkers all past your station giggling amongst themselves as they spied it. You felt the heat of all the attention permeate your face as you rushed to stash it away.

Taking your seat before your monitor you hid the parcel. You waited patiently until you felt no one was paying you any mind. Had someone miss placed this? Curious you read the note. “This reminded me of you.” Flipping it over no name.

You untie the bow and opened it carefully.

"Did you like it?" Steve's sudden voice made you bristle.

You fumble with the box, dropping it, spilling the contents as he leaned on your cubical wall.

"Um sorry?" you looked at him confused.

"I was thinking of getting rid of this thing, but now"

he scratched at his beard as you wrinkled your brow at him. His name was called before he could clarify his point. The distraction pulled him away, but not before he shot you a sly wink.

That was strange.

With him away you reached down to pick up the fallen gift. You rose slowly lifting a new coffee mug, turning it you see a yellow cartoon teddy bear smiling at you.

Your eyes grew round as a flood of memories drowned you. Flashes of the night before filled in gaps you had brushed off until now.

🐻

The night before

You were an expert at avoiding company events, but when the email read mandatory you groaned. The biannual event was a must for all employees foreign and domestic.

You didn't hate your company, you actually loved it. Everyone was friendly, it was a stark contrast to the cut throat companies you were used to. It was just that social events made you feel painfully awkward.

The venue was massive. Every odd person asked which office you worked in and what department you belonged to. You smiled and made short talk as you searched for a place to hide until the event was over. It was very draining, being an introvert you could only handle so much social interaction.

The corporate sponsored libations helped get you through the most part. Snatching a drink from every waiter that passed with a tray. It was an easy, trick gulp down the glass then motion to the empty cup before departing the group signaling you are going to find more. An easy out that had you buzzed, but you felt as though you were holding together well. When you found your hiding spot you breathed easier, taking the seat hidden behind a column, you played with your phone until the event whined down.

"Hey your in accounting right?"

You looked up from the phone to find John Walker. He smiled softly, slipping into the empty seat next to you. "Oh no, sorry.."

"Why are you hiding away by yourself?" He cut you off. You reached for your half empty flute and took a big gulp. Swallowing it down before tapping the glass, signaling your exit just as he began to crowd you into the corner space.

"How do you like it here?" He asked you another question stifling your exit. You could feel his breath on your face as you tried to lean away, but his arm stretched out pulling you closer.

A yelp escaped your lips when his other hand found your thigh. You don't want to cause a scene, but you want him to give you space. Your hiding space was too good. No one noticed or cared that you were trapped by a fellow colleague. "I need to-"

John pulled you down when you tried to stand and excuse yourself. "Hey" the scent of his drink finally hit your nose. "You cant leave before we cheers." His grip on you felt so firm that you worried if you upset him, his smile seemed strained and his eyes roamed you uncomfortably. John suddenly lifted the hand from your shoulder and snapped his fingers in the air, signaling a server to bring more drinks to the table. "One more drink huh? Bad luck not to cheers with everyone you know?"

You gripped your phone so hard you felt it imprint on your palm. You just wanted to go home. When the serve dropped the glasses John pushed one at you. To appease him you took it. Maybe he would leave after this. He raised his glass and you did the same. "To a fruitful quarter."

You murmured and repeated him. The glasses clinked before you both took a drink. This drink hit you harder than before, but you chugged it down anyway.

When John finished his glass he cloaked you. His eyes filled with a hunger that had you leaning further back into the back of your chair. He kept coming so close no matter how you shifted in your seat to gain distance. "Please I need to go home" you begged as he roamed up your skirt.

When his eyes bulged you were confused before you felt relief. John fell away from you, hitting the floor hard as a hulk of a man appeared standing over him. John did not appreciate it, hopping to his feet. You tried to stand yourself, but the room spun and swayed with such force you fell back on your seat. John and your savior blurred as you try to focus. You squinted as John pushed back on the stranger only to find his chin connecting with a right hook. His body fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes as you watched everything in slow motion.

It was so surreal seeing John laid out. You looked up to see the founder standing above him. Steve Rogers was the man behind the knockout punch. You snorted, laughing loudly at the ridiculousness. There was no way you saw that correctly.

He turned his attention to you, mouthing words at you, but you couldn't understand them. People began to crowd around John and your table. You were becoming the center of attention and that filled you with an urge to escape.

"I want to go home." You whimpered lowly, as you found it hard to move with so many people around. You reached your limit, there were too many eyes, too many voices, you felt trapped yet again.

"Where do you live?" His voice cut through everyone else. It sounded so concerned yet sweet it set you at ease. You slurred out the destination as he helped you up from the seat.

He felt so warm, firm and safe that you couldn't help, but cuddle into his side as he guided you out.

Your eyes started to feel heavy as your body floated along. “Um, you...you fight good.” you blurted out making him chuckle. "Thank you" you slurred out the complement. Your yawn muffled his response as your eyes closed and you slipped into sleep.

🐻

Your head lolled on the back of the leather seat as a chill nipped at your body. "It's too cold" you groaned missing the warmth that sent you to slumber.

"I miss warm" you whined tilting your head to the side, squinting at the blurry blob that resembled the sun. You reached out to find the source of warmth, but got jerked back by a restraint, you grumbled and frowned when you found a seat belt.

"Hey sleepy head." It sounded like Mr.Rogers. You had heard his voice many times over many corporate calls and monthly meetings, but that was preposterous. There was no way the high powered CEO was talking to you.

"Give me warm" you whined again, your eyes still heavy as you tried to focus on their face. You attempted once more to reach your hand out, this time your finger tips clumsily grazed over a nose before trailing up to gelled hair. "Oop. Watch it you almost blinded me there." He laughed lightly as the car swerved a bit. "Ok ok settled down I'll turn on the AC." The click and whoosh of the heater elevated the chill a bit.

"Sorry I run a little hot. Does this help?"

You hummed with delight as a warm hand reached out to glide up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. Your fingers played in the sleeked geld locks. Your thighs absorb the warmth of his hand as he kneaded your skin.

"You have arrived at your destination" the robotic voice announced.

"Yay!" Clapping your hands together ready to go to bed.

"Don't like parties huh?"

"I like home better." You yawned still very tired.

"Yeah me too" he agreed as the warm hand in your lap left. You whimpered in disappointment as a car door opened and closed. You stayed lazy sat in place too tired to move, closing your eyes welcoming sleep once again.

"Come on let's get you home." He grunted as he reached over you, waking you slightly. The smell of his cologne filled your nose as you heard the distinct click of your seat belt and feel of the strap slide away.

"Who are you?" You genuinely inquired.

He pulled you from the seat and stood you up against the car. Your body sagged, but he kept you standing. "Don't remember me, huh?" He huffed dragging you out. "Steve. Steve Rogers." He told you as he tried to keep you steady while closing the door.

"Your face is soo fluffy" you giggled as you grabbed at his beard. "No! Your not Steve! Your teddy" you dubbed shouting at him, cupping his face as you brought him closer. "You feel so good teddy."

"You think so?" Steve chuckled excepting his new nickname.

Stepping closer he pressed his weight on you and chuckled, boxing you between him and the car. "Fluffy teddy bear man" you giggled again as his cologne once again invaded your nose.

"You smell good too" you confessed as he leaned closer. His lips tilted into a devilish grin as you leaned forward to inhale along his neck. His strong hands held your hips before squeezing when you licked at him. "Tasted good too."

"Bad girl." Steve admonished leaning away from you. "Bad teddy" you frowned, pulling him closer by his blazer. "Keep me warm teddy." You pouted.

"Like that?" Steve questioned as his palms slipped down your waist then road up your thigh. You gasped when he ascended up and under your skirt. You nodded 'yes' allowing his brazened hand to slip into your panties, cupping your mound. The car rocked a bit as he leaned all his weight on you, sinking into you. His bristly beard hairs tickled your neck as you panted wildly into the cold air.

"Do you like how I make you feel?" Steve asked trailing up and over your lips. You moan a 'yes' into his mouth while you pushed into his palm urging him on.

Steve tried to pull his hand from you, but you squeezed your thighs together, not allowing him to retreat. "No teddy don't leave" you begged pouting. Steve smiled at the nickname while plunging deep in your core, curling his digits inside of you.

Your skirt road high off your ass and you felt the chill of the door on your exposed cheeks. You didn't care, you just wanted more. Lifting your leg Steve hooked it around his waist. "I love you teddy" you proclaimed drunk off his touch.

"Oh yeah" he growled in your ear, sending fire down your neck as he kissed you all over. You felt your panties pushed to the side as he pressed his sheathed need on you.

"Ummm mmm" you hummed eager for him to do more. Steve steady you with one hand while his other fumbled with the front of his pants. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your hips pushed forward. Waiting impatiently you bite your lip giving him a pleading look. "Love you so much teddy."

"So this is love?" Steve swirled his cock in your juices, teasing as he pressed hard along your eagerness. "Don't tease" you slapped at him frowning. "You want teddy to love you?" he groaned pressing his tip hard against your entrance. You nod 'yes' and hiss as his cock slowly stretched you open. You welcomed the strain while another warmth burst from your core. Your fingers tangled in his hair while Steve kissed you passionately. You panted wildly as Steve picked up speed, rutting you against the car door. "So this..." Steve stretched out each word, thrusting into you hard and deep, your slick him thoroughly. You chanted 'yes' allowing him to rut you against the car. Steve's thickness made you quiver. Despite being out in the world it felt as if you were the only two left on earth. "This is love" he sighed pushing as deep as he could go.

The warmth of him exploded all around you, melting you into him deliciously. You dissolved into him, slipping mindlessly into ecstasy.

🐻

#dark steve x black reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x black!reader #dark steve x reader #black writer #pagesoflauren3000challenge

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sincerelyella · 3 years ago

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RAMifications Chapter 4 - Who Do You Tell?

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella); Drake x Alyssa Devereaux

Song Inspiration: Who Do You Tell by Tamia

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me; Alyssa Devereaux was created by the brilliant mind of @burnsoslow

A/N: This entire idea came from Burnsy and her unBEARable series featuring her OTP Drake and Alyssa. This is Ella’s backstory and how she met the love of her life King Liam of Cordonia and became his Queen. This doesn’t follow much of TRR books, there is still a social season but not all of the players are present. Throw canon out the window!

Catch up here

Thank you to @burnsoslow for pre reading/commenting/calming my crazy self down. You know I freaking love you!

Warnings: Maybe adult language and some kissing

Words: 1826

It was the next morning, Ella made herself a cup of coffee, looked through some notes for school and hummed along with Tamia playing over her speakers. I hope I see him today. She bit her lip and thought back to when he kissed her. It was entirely too quick, but she loved how soft his lips were, how his fingers curled into her hips. She wished he didn’t let go of her, his hands gave her a jolt in her heart and her loins. Everything came alive when their lips touched … and then he ruined it by pulling away and saying it was a mistake. Ugh! What the fuck! She finished her coffee with a shake of her head and attempted to push back any thoughts of Liam and his lips. She put away all her notes and got ready to head to work. As she did so, she mentally prepared herself to possibly see him at the palace.

5 hours later

Ella saved her last delivery for the palace until the end of the day. I probably should have just gotten this over with. She sighed and pushed the cart into the large foyer where she met with the same staff member that always greeted her, Thomas.

“Hello Miss Ella.”

“Hi Thomas, where do you want these today?”

“You can leave the cart here, although one bouquet is for a specific person.”

“Oh?” Ella arched her brow. “Do you want me to deliver it?”

Thomas nodded. “Yes ma’am, that was the order I received this morning. I’ll show you to the room.”

Ella just followed Thomas quietly and she suddenly recognized the hallway they were walking down. The pair stopped in front of the person’s door and he knocked.

The door opened a couple seconds later and there stood Alyssa with a wide grin on her face. “Hi Ella! Thomas, thank you for bringing her over.”

“Of course, Lady Alyssa.” Thomas bowed and gave Ella a small smirk as he walked away.

“Come in Ella!” Alyssa grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey! These flowers are for you. From Liam? I mean … His Highness?”

Alyssa waved dismissively. “No, not from Liam. I ordered flowers for myself.”

Ella’s head tilted slightly and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Wait, why?”

“I wanted to talk with you about something.” She sat on her bed and motioned for Ella to sit with her. “Come on!”

Ella obeyed and sat with Alyssa on the bed. “Okay, so you know Liam is a prince.” Ella nodded. “Alright, so he is the Crown Prince of Cordonia. This means that he will be crowned the King of Cordonia in about a month or so.” Ella’s eyes could have popped out of her head. Alyssa lifted her hand when Ella opened her mouth to speak. “Wait for it … okay, so being that he will be crowned the King of Cordonia in a matter of weeks, he is having a social season that’s happening right now. He needs to choose a bride and needs to be engaged in order to rise to succession. Now,” Alyssa took in a breath, “He has five suitors and … I am one of them.”

Ella’s mouth was open, eyes widened in shock for seconds. When she shut her eyes, they were dry from staring at Alyssa without blinking. She finally found her voice, eyes still closed and whispered, “So you” - she opened her eyes and looked at Alyssa - “you are a suitor for Liam?” Her eyes widened again and her voice got louder as she pointed toward Alyssa. “You are trying to … marry Liam?” The more she said it out loud, the more crazy she sounded. Am I fucking dreaming?

Alyssa put both her hands up, palms facing Ella. “I came here for Liam as a suitor originally, yes,” she explained calmly. “I fell in love with Drake in the process. We told Liam about our feelings and our relationship and he was fine with it. But,” Alyssa put her hands down and sighed. “I still had to stay on as his suitor until the coronation. Drake and I have to carry on our relationship in secret. Liam isn’t going to choose me, but I saw how he looks at you, Ella.” She waited until Ella lifted her face to meet her gaze. “I saw the way your eyes welled up the other day when you told me he kissed you and said it was a mistake.”

“Yes, I felt something when he kissed me …” she trailed off and willed those tears that collected in her eyes not to fall.

“He feels something too,” Alyssa said softly. “I brought you here to talk with you, to see if … if you’d like to take my place as a suitor.”

Again, Ella’s eyes widened and she stood up abruptly. “ME? A … suitor for a … prince?!” She started to hyperventilate. “I … I … “ she gasped for air in between trying to speak.

Alyssa stood from the bed and grabbed Ella’s wrists gently. “It’s okay, calm down, just breathe.” The two women’s eyes locked. Ella took a deep breath in through her nose, and let it out slowly through her mouth. “Better?” Ella nodded. “Okay,” Alyssa continued calmly. “Yes. That means you will be competing as a suitor to be with Liam. You want to be with him, don’t you?”

“I’m just a girl from California. I don’t know about” - she waved her hand around the room - “all of this. If I even belong here.”

“Hey, I’m just a girl from New York,” Alyssa smirked. “I flew here on a whim, I wanted adventure, and I’m still alive!” She paused and studied Ella’s facial expression. “You didn’t answer my question, Ella.”

Ella quirked her brow in question.

“Do you want to be with Liam?”

Ella’s mouth opened, shut quickly, then opened again. Do I? She thought back to Liam’s lips on hers, how he held her in his arms, even if it was for a few seconds, she felt … safe. She looked at Alyssa and nodded.

Alyssa suddenly let go of her wrists, wrapped her in a hug and squealed in excitement. “YEAAAAAAAHH!!!!”

Ella laughed and hugged her back. “Okay! Well, now what?”

Alyssa stepped back and grinned. “Now, we go tell Liam.”

Ella’s smile faded. “I have to return the truck to the capitol but, I can come back later?”

Alyssa nodded quickly. “Yes! Come back in a bit and we’ll both talk to Liam! Here,” she took her phone out and handed it to Ella. “Put your number in here and I’ll text you so you have mine. Just let me know when you’re on the way over okay?”

Ella nodded. She handed Alyssa her phone back and headed off to return the work truck.

2 hours later

Ella headed back to the palace, texting Alyssa that she was on her way. Is this really happening? She was meeting Alyssa and Drake in the foyer and they’d walk with her to Liam’s room. The car arrived at the palace, she paid the driver and nervously pulled her hooded knit cardigan tighter around herself as she walked up the palace stairs.

She spotted Alyssa and Drake a split second before she had time to react. “Eeeeeeeeeeeee!” Alyssa squealed and ran to envelope Ella in a bone crushing hug. Ella laughed loudly and hugged her back.

“Wow, for a small person, you’re strong,” Ella teased as she rubbed her side.

Alyssa scoffed and pointed her finger at Ella. “I’m the same height as you, woman,” she retorted with an arched brow.

Ella rolled her eyes and smirked. “Alright touché. Hey Drake!”.

“Nice to see you again, Ella. Let’s go see Liam, shall we?”

The women nodded and all three walked down the hallway to Liam’s quarters. They approached his door and the very large guard posted right in front of it stiffened and eyed them suspiciously.

“Come on, Sam, you know me and Alyssa.” Drake waved his hand in Ella’s direction. “This is Ella. The prince is expecting us.”

Sam relaxed a little bit and knocked on the door. Liam opened it a moment later, saw the trio standing there and nodded his head. “I knew they were coming, Sam. Thank you.” The guard bowed and stepped aside for them to enter the room.

Ella followed Drake and Alyssa, she walked by Liam and brushed past his chest, making eye contact with him and flashing a small smile. Liam closed the door and turned to face everyone, but his gaze never left Ella’s. He was getting lost in those eyes again.

“Good evening.”

She peered up at him. Shit, how tall is he? “Hello, Your Highness.”

He smiled softly and took her hands in his. “Just Liam is fine right now,” he whispered and lifted one of her hands to his lips, never breaking eye contact. “I’m glad you’re here, Ella.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind them. “Hi Liam! We’re here too!”

Liam chuckled and they both turned to face Drake and Alyssa. “Hello you two. You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes!” Alyssa exclaimed. “Ella has graciously agreed to take my place in the social season.”

Liam snaps his head to Ella and, again, he’s caught up in her light brown eyes. “Is that true?” He finally whispered.

She couldn’t speak. The way he was looking at her made her heart start to race and she couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat. She just nodded meekly.

He smiled so big and wide that she thought she’d go blind from all the white teeth he flashed at her.

She cleared her throat. “So, what do I do now?”

“Well,” he took a step towards her. “You would need to move into the palace … all the suitors stay here until the end of the season,” he paused, waiting for her to process what he just said. “Then you would meet your sponsors. The Duke of Ramsford and Lord Maxwell Beaumont.”

“Maxwell is so cool, you’ll love him. Bertrand, he grows on you ...” Alyssa trailed off, shrugging.

Ella nodded slowly. “Oh … kay,” she mumbled.

She looks nervous. Liam took another step towards her, kindness in his eyes. “If you would like, I can go over some things with you about the social season. I’m sure Duke Ramsford has more lessons for you, but if I could answer any questions now, I can.”

Liam turned his head towards Drake and they shared a look.

Drake cleared his throat. “Okay, well we’ll leave you to it, goodnight guys.” He grabbed Alyssa’s hand and started tugging her towards the door.

Once they were alone, the pair looked at each other and an awkward silence filled the room.

“You’re … sure this is something you want to do, Ella?”

She met his gaze and remembered what he said to her the other night. “Why was kissing me a mistake, Liam?”

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unpopular-bishop · 4 years ago

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celebrity au

Athletic fandoms are a special sort of experience. Having his own favorite athletes, Team has been involved in a debate or two in his time, has watched fan videos and even stumbled upon a few fics here and there, but he’d never been particularly involved with or interested in the personal and private lives of his favorite athletes growing up. He knew some of them were married with kids and some of them weren’t, and some had been in trouble for bad behavior or substance abuse here and there, but that was about it.

He and Win had never really talked about how to handle their relationship in terms of the public eye, or whatever. Team just...worked his way up from college, training and practicing and placing at meets until, one day, suddenly, he was in a hotel room about to compete for gold at the Olympics. Between graduating and that hotel room, he’d picked up a few fans. Some sports enthusiasts, some friends, a few others. He’d done a couple interviews about his swimming, about how it felt to represent Thailand or his trainers. And then he’d placed, brought home gold, and suddenly he had...a few fans more than before. At least a handful.

Still, they’d never really...talked about it. Win was proud of him and went to every competition that he could go to, even if he couldn’t actually go to the Olympics with Team, but he also was always sure to give Team space. This was Team’s thing, and the resort business was Win’s, and they’d meet in the middle and mingle and share but it was important to them both that they were allowed independence that some couples (Dean and Pharm) weren’t interested in maintaining. Team appreciated that, but it turns out that sometimes the willingness to give each other space in their own things leads to being caught off guard.

Like now.

And the interview had started so well.

“So, P’Team,” his interviewer, a nice young woman named Soul, smiles through the screen and Team forces a smile back. He hates interviews, hates interviews, and he’d rather be anywhere but in front of another Zoom call. But his publicist said he needed to do this and Win had promised more Lays after it was over if he kept it together long enough to continue convincing the world he liked anything outside of swimming and eating. At least Soul has been gentle with him; she’s mostly just been asking about his history and that’s familiar. He’s had his answers to “What made you want to swim” and “Why did you decide to be a swimmer” down pat since he first started to compete seriously. It’s all anyone wants to know, usually, alongside some inspirational bullshit that Pharm helped him word a few years ago. Soul is working for a magazine doing a short online feature on him but it isn’t insanely long. This should wrap up soon.

“Can you tell us a little more about your life outside of swimming? You’re always so focused in interviews, so honestly we are a little bit curious about it.”

“Outside of swimming?” Team lets himself lean back in his chair, lets himself think about what he wants to share here. “I like to eat.”

Soul laughs, “Actually, you’ve made no secret of that! I think we all remember you getting out of the pool at your last meet and your manager waiting with a bag of take-out.”

“I really like to eat.” Team shrugs. “Uh, really, there isn’t much outside of swimming. I train and then go eat and then sleep and wake up and do the same thing. Sometimes I play video games.”

He lifts a hand to brush his hair out of his face nervously and then notices Soul’s eyes zero in on his fingers.

“Oh, P’Team! Is that a new ring?”

Team looks at his hand, at the ring she’s mentioned and can’t help the smile that fights its way back to his face. “Yeah. Hia and I just got engaged.”

Soul’s eyes go wide. “Hia?”

“Hia Win,” he says to clarify, in case she’s confused about some other hia.

She blinks, and then he blinks, and the silence lasts for a few seconds before Win ducks his head into the office where Team has set up for the interview, hair still pulled up from being in the ktichen. “Sorry, did you need me? I heard my name?”

Team turns around so he can see Win for real and not just on his screen and shakes his head, “No, N’Soul just asked about my ring.”

“Oh. Okay, sorry to interrupt!” Win smiles really big, the smile he’s been shooting around a lot lately since the engagement and disappears again. When Team turns back around, Soul is muted and talking to someone off screen with a message in chat saying ‘I’m sorry! Just a second, my producer is here!’

Team waits patiently, playing with his ring, watching Soul speak off-screen with an increasingly mulish expression that eventually clears back into the bright smile she’s been wearing most of the interview.

When she unmutes, she is still smiling. “Sorry, P’Team! We just needed to have a quick meeting. Congratulations on your engagement! We’ll cut that out, so please don’t worry at all about it.”

“Cut it out?” Team’s lips twist, “Why? Should I not talk about it?”

“It’s just,” Soul pauses, “You’ve never mentioned your partner before. I don’t want to out you if you were just answering my question and not interested in going public with the knowledge. My producer and I agreed to cut the question so please don’t worry about it!”

“That’s -” Team starts to say not true, and then stops because...oh.

Has he ever talked about Win? In an interview?

“That wasn’t on...purpose.” He finally says, “I’m fine being out or whatever. We are fine being out.” But actually, is he? “Wait. Can you give me a minute? Like five?”

“Of course,” Soul says but Team has already muted and turned back to the door.

“Hia! Hia, there’s a problem!”

“Did you set something on fire?” Win bumps through the door, probably thinking the interview is over because he’s got a tray of chicken still balanced between two mitted hands. “Oh. Team, you’re camera is still on.”

“So apparently I’ve never mentioned you before in an interview?” Team rolls right over Win’s words, brain already fried just trying to understand how he’s been competing for years now and has somehow forgotten to mention his boyfriend-cum-fiance? He’s thanked Win in a few interviews, he’s absolutely positive he has. But told people that Win wasn’t just - someone, but that he is someone to Team?

“Oh.” Win blinks, “I thought you were just keeping it under wraps.”

“Keeping what under wraps?” Team frowns harder, feeling irritated for some reason, “N’Soul said that too. Why would I want to be quiet about this?”

“I don’t know!” Win looks between Team and the chicken, surely starting to feel the heat through the mitts, “Being out in a competitive field is hard, I guess! I just thought you didn’t want that kind of lime light!”

“And you were okay with that? Me treating you like some sort of secret?”

“You aren’t treating me like a secret, Team.” Win scoffs, sounding unbearably fond, “But you’re a private person. It isn’t like we hide it when we go out or anything, you just don’t talk about us when people bring your personal life up. That’s fine with me, baby.”

“It isn’t fine with me!” Team stands up and starts ushering Win out of the room so they can have this conversation off camera and without chicken burning Win’s hands.

“Okay.” Win nods once the chicken is down and they’re standing in the kitchen, “So you...want to come out?”

“I thought I was out!”

“Got it,” Win puts his hands up in defeat, still mitted. “So you want to come out about me, then?”

Team resists the urge to yell I thought I was again, and just nods stiffly.

It’s making his stomach roll, the thought that Win has just been silently thinking Team wasn’t ready, wasn’t willing, didn’t think he was worth the fight to be open about. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Win smiles again, and it isn’t the big bright one that is so common now, but a smaller one. It’s soft and vulnerable. Something Team hasn’t seen in quite a while but which he recognizes immediately as the sort of smile he wants to keep locked up safe in his chest where no one can touch it but he and Win.

“Are you out at work about me?” Team asks, twisting his ring around his finger slowly.

“Of course.” Win assures him, taking the mitts off and setting them on the counter before pulls Team’s hands into his own, “But I work in an office that my family owns, in a job that I know I won’t lose, with people that I know can’t do shit to me or my career, baby. You’re a public figure and have a lot more to risk than I do. It’s okay if you want to wait until you’re done competing, or if you want to keep quiet for however long. I know you love me, I’m not upset or hurt.”

“Well, I am!” Team snaps, even while he grips Win’s hands tight and yanks him closer to hug, “I don’t care if people get pissy about it! You’re my fiance. I’m going to marry you! I don’t care about what some idiots say online or in the crowd or whatever!”

“You could lose sponsors, Team.” Win says patiently and Team can’t help but wrinkle up his nose.

“I don’t want homophobic sponsors, hia.”

Win barks a laugh and drapes his arms around Team’s shoulders, curling his elbows up so he’s cradling Team’s head. When he leans forward, it’s to rest their foreheads together. Team can’t help but look at him. Years now, and he’s still so handsome. Team would hate it except that he loves it so much. Loves how Win looks and walks and acts, even. Loves that Win is wearing his ring, and is going to put his name next to his on paperwork that binds them together.

“If this is what you want,” Win nudges their noses together, light and airy, “Of course I want the public to know that we belong together.”

“You’re sure?” Team has to check, just to be sure, and only really feels the tension leave him when Win nods again. He squeezes Win’s hips, plants a firm kiss on his lips, and then escapes the embrace to go back to the office. He has an engagement to announce and he imagines that he’s gonna have to call his publicist after this. The chicken is probably gonna be cold by the time he actually gets to it.

He twists the ring around his finger again as he sits down in front of Soul, who’s looking a little unsure now.

“Sorry, nong, I just needed to talk to my fiance. Don’t cut that question, please. He isn’t a secret. We aren’t a secret, I mean.”

She smiles, big and bright, and Team smiles back.

#until we meet again #winteam #mine #tags: winteam week 2020 | day 6: celebrity au | team really did think he had already done this (whoops)#wc: 1.8k #ao3 link on first line

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alltheangstmygifttoyou · 4 years ago

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A Real Hero

A/N: Augh I love this part so much. Welcome to part nine of the Learn To Be Prequel and today we are from Jester’s perspective looking at the start of a very important event in her life. Some day I’m going to write this part from June’s perspective so everyone else in the world can have the same context I do but for now everyone is left in the dark and I’m left to cry about a minor character in my own story.

Summery: Jester is given a letter from Father that leaves her upset so she goes to her room to calm down. But while she’s in her room she notices some drama going down with June in the open dormitory. Shit hits the fan.

Word Count: 2647

TW: violence, mentioned child abuse, death

The dinner hall was alight with hundreds of voices excitedly telling each other about their days. On the left side of the hall Jesse sat with a group of friends, on the right Jester sat alone. She could join her twin brother’s table, but it was clear that Jesse didn’t like her there. The only one who did like her at that table was Jackson. To compromise, Jester only sat at that table during breakfast, no one told her to avoid the table afterwards, but they didn’t need to. Jester didn’t want to upset Jesse, but she was tired of being alone. The fact that Jesse didn’t want her around wasn’t surprising but it still left her aching.

A balding staff member covered in sagging wrinkles tossed a white envelope in front of Jester. Despite the closeness between the tables and bodies the staff member took special care to not touch Jester. Rolling her eyes Jester took the envelope and saw her family seal. The green wax formed in the shape of a shield with four different sections, each with symbols Jester had seen a thousand times before. A fist in the top right for strength, a heart in the top left for love, a thorned rose in the bottom right for defense, and a bloody dagger in the bottom left for a sharp mind. Jester took what satisfaction she could out of breaking the seal but it was gone when she pulled the letter out. As always the envelope carried two letters, one for Jester and one for Jesse. If Jester liked what Mother had to tell Jesse she’d give him his letter tomorrow morning, if not, he didn’t need to see. Jester had already kept two letters this year. Mother could be very harsh in her letters about his grades and choices in friends. Jesse didn’t need that. The most important letter was Father’s anyway, and Jesse never saw those.

Father’s instructions were clear, list out the rest of section fifteen powers from years four and below. The younger the easier to manipulate. Although the last line in the letter made Jester struggle to not crumple the letter into a little ball. ‘Get closer to Jackson, he’ll need emotional support soon, and it needs to be clear the Quinn family will be there for him.’ Jester didn’t know what Father was planning, but he had to be planning something. He was going to hurt Jackson’s mom’s business was Jester’s best guess. She knew he would make her take advantage of the one friend she had. Jester could warn him, but her ribs ached, an echo of Father’s last lesson. Frustration welled up and Jester slammed her fist on the table before grabbing her bag and storming off to her room. The long walk managed to only irritate her further as the halls were filled with people hanging out together, smiling, laughing, things Jester had to spend her day faking or holding in.

The section fifteen girls dormitory main room was empty. It’s dirty dull beige walls less comforting than the pristine white of home. Nowhere should have felt worse than home but this place managed it. The urge to break the two broken chairs completely was causing her fists to shake but she went to her room. June wasn’t in there for once which Jester couldn’t be more thankful for. She tossed the letters into her duffel bag and kicked her mattress as hard as she could. It jumped a little but it didn’t go far. The only result was Jester’s foot hurt. Taking a deep breath Jester tried to think of a productive way to unleash the energy. She had posters she wanted to put up, some nails, and a hammer in the bag she had remembered when packing up. Learn To Be didn’t search bags for weapons and section fifteen didn’t seem to get room checks often. In a dormitory full of dangerous powerful people having a weapon couldn’t hurt her odds of survival. Plus she couldn’t find the tape at home.

With more force than necessary Jester put up five posters, each with four nails. She would have continued but she hadn’t brought anything else to put up. Her photo wall at home was too private to have in a room she shared. The only reason she had the posters in the first place was because they were sponsored by Father’s company. She didn’t put them up in her room at home because they were just random motivational quotes splashed in color, but they were better than plain and stained walls. Jester was sweating but she felt like her chest wasn’t as heavy. She put the hammer and extra nails away and grabbed her make-up wipes and took all of the work she had put on her face off. Tomorrow she would wear something extra nice, have her face done with as much precision as she could, and she would be the manipulative devil her Father wanted, but tonight she wanted to be Jester, whoever she was. A twin with her first friend that she didn’t want to lose.

Jester laid on her dirty mattress trying to figure out a way to show Jackson that she did truly appreciate him. Not because Father liked him but because he was nice to her. He reached out when no one else did. She thought back to Basics and what they would do for each other during the holidays. A handmade card would be nice. All she had to work with was notebook paper, a pencil, and a pen with black ink, which shook her determination a bit but she tried to keep in mind it was the thought that counted. Jackson wouldn’t be judging it for imperfections like Mother and Father.

Jester folded the notebook paper hamburger style and began sketching fancy lettering for the front ‘Thank you’. With the little room left at the bottom Jester tried to draw a bust of a cartoon Jackson. It was lopsided no matter how many times she erased and tried again so she put a heart at the bottom. But that could be confused as romantic and Jester was sure Father wouldn’t like it if she entered a relationship without permission. On the other hand she had told herself she wouldn’t worry about Father tonight. In the end she erased the heart and put an arch of stars differing in size. On the inside of the card she wrote a smaller message ‘for being my friend’ in her regular script. On the right page of the inside she drew two hands holding on to each other, something Jackson and her had never done but she was pretty sure that friends did. Jesse used to hold her hand, but they were twins so their relationship wasn’t a good baseline.

As Jester went through the steps of making the card look nice, lining with the pen, adding contrast through cross hatching, and signing her name on the back, two things occurred to her. One, the broken light in her room had been on longer than ever before, and two, June still hadn’t come in. Perhaps it wasn’t any of her business, June certainly didn’t care about her, but Jester was still worried. She carefully tucked Jackson’s card into her notebook and ventured out of her little room.

The dormitory was brighter than usual, the cracks underneath all the closed doors revealed their lights were working, at least temporarily. Walking into the main form entrance Jester realized that leaving her room was a mistake. There were at least fifteen people in the big room, not close to full, but many more than usual. Three girls blocked the exit and two stood at the edges to the hall. Jester walked toward them. In the middle of the room June faced off against a group of older girls wearing nice clean clothes. Jester recognized a couple from people in upper sections she had talked business and powers with once for Father’s list. There were two guys in the center as well. Something was about to go down. Jester wanted no part in it, but her thoughts needled her about leaving June. This looked like it wouldn’t end pretty for the red head.

“What do you want?” One of the girls by the entrance snapped. She had short curly brown hair and at least five inches on Jester.

“What’s going on? All the lights are on…” Jester was happy to not have makeup on for once. She looked her age a bit more without it. The taller girl’s frown deepened and her hip jutted out further.

“That’s nothing for you to worry about kid, just go back to your room.” The tall girl spat with the haughtiness of a spoiled princess. Jester looked past the tall girl as she spoke to see electricity crackling around a blonde moving towards June. June didn’t back up, she just glared forward. Given June’s power to kill, Jester doubted June had much to fear.

“Go kid,” the tall girl snapped and Jester turned around to head back. Part of her wanted to summon that girl's greatest fear, but that would just cause problems. As Father had told her, patience brings rewards.

Her freshly decorated room was still too boring to bring any comfort. Instead, the posters just reminded her of Father. She was tempted to sit with her ear to the door, but she couldn’t hear anything when the tall girl was in front of her so she definitely would hear anything now with a closed door and thirty feet of hall between them. All that was left to do was wait-- something Jester had practice at. She worked on homework for math but it didn’t take long. The numbers added up tight.

After a quarter of an hour just sitting in thought Jester’s light bulb seemed to shine brighter, but a high pitch whine stung her ears, Covering her ears with her hands and squeezing her eyes shut, she missed seeing the light bulb burst. Glass flew around the room, one piece lightly grazing her right arm. Despite her eyes being shut, she could sense the room darken. While the whine was gone, a muffled yelling could be heard. Slowly Jester opened her eyes and blinked a few times to let her eyes get adjusted. There was no light under the door crack anymore, meaning the other lights had either gone out or shattered too. Despite this as her eyes adjusted Jester could see blobs of motion. Doors were slamming into walls and female voices overlapped all trying to figure out what happened. It would be stupid to go out in that mess, a bunch of dangerous kids stuck in the dark, but Jester wanted to know what was happening first hand. She swept the glass out of her way with the slow movement of her feet before she pulled open her door.

The hallway was full of girls, young and older teens alike trying to push their way to the opening room of the dormitory, their pathetic excuse of a living room, and the only place to exit in the whole dorm. It was easy to follow the flow but once they were closer to the living room itself no one was moving. People were yelling, telling the ones at the front to go but they weren’t moving. Some people started pushing their way through and Jester joined them, although many of those who had been pushing stopped when they got to the front too, Jester just pushed them out of the way as well. Once in the main dorm room she moved out and to the side, out of the way of them all. Everything was difficult to make out but there were definitely people huddled on the floor and two figures yelling at another shorter figure. Unable to understand over the cacophony of noise, Jester edged her way around the room, staying close to the wall, until she was facing the back of the figure on the receiving end of the yelling. Now that she was closer it seemed like the one being yelled at was June, and the guys from earlier were yelling.

“You fucking killed her you psycho bitch!” A deep voice shouted and Jester couldn’t help but look back at the huddle of people. It’s possible they were surrounding a body. The thought made her stomach drop. Jester looked toward the exit to see people running towards it. Opening the doors allowed light from the schools hallways to seep in. June stood in front of Jester holding her left shoulder, the huddle of bodies were mainly the girls from the upper sections. A few of them moved towards the light showing that a body did indeed lay on the floor. From the hallway people in the front began to scream shrill sounds that echoed throughout the room. Many of them pushed their way backwards through the crowd only for the next line of people to see and panic as well.

Jester was acutely aware of the power of fear, after all it is what her power caused, and what fueled her Father’s power. While rage was a good way to get people to lash out with their power, fear had the tendency to make people lose control. The students that had broken in seemed to realize that causing a panic in the dormitory for people with dangerous powers was a terrible idea and began to back away from the screaming mass.

The first sign of trouble came when the darkness itself seemed to begin to move on its own, pushing people back. People were slammed against the walls by the living shadow. Then as the shadows attacked people became defensive, someone began spitting at the shadows, and where the globs landed the floor caught fire. The older students began running out of the dorm, trained to keep their powers in control in a stressful situation, while the younger students had barely begun to learn. The boys in front of June made a break for it, one running incredibly fast leaving the other behind. June watched on, her shoulders slumped. The exit was propped open at this point from the constant stream of people escaping so it was easy to see inside, the fires popping up helped the light situation as well. There were people lying on the floor next to the walls, Jester hoped they were just unconscious. Most of the screams left were guttural and seemed to be from pain more than panic. Shadows waved randomly from the hall, whoever summoning them obviously not in any sort of control. June turned to leave only to spot Jester.

“You said you’d stop following me,” her words were grumbled but lacked conviction.

“This seemed the safest place to stand,” Jester responded shrugging. The fact that this was happening felt absurd. “Are you okay?” That question felt more appropriate to the situation.

“You should see the other guy,” June rubbed her shoulder as she spoke. Jester looked at where there had been the group of people only to see a lone body with blonde hair laying on the floor. Blood seeped out of the nose and mouth, and the eyes appeared to be open. “You should get out kid. This isn’t going to go well.” June always looked tired, but Jester remembered the conviction the redhead had always had. It was gone now.

“Am I going to see you again?” Jester asked, they weren’t friends, but they could have been. Jester could see herself becoming June in the future, if she played her cards wrong.

“You’re going to be the only one in the room, enjoy.” June’s bitter tone made Jester’s lips pucker. “Seriously, go away Jester,” and Jester listened, only because she hadn’t known June cared enough to learn her name.

#learn to be #TW child abuse #tw death #tw violence #writeblr

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langdvnshepherd · 6 years ago

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Good For You ~ Part 2 (Duncan Shepherd x fem!reader)

PART ONE (Part 3 linked at the end)

Summary: You’re a broke ass college student whose one night stand with the infamous Duncan Shepherd leads to the development of a rather interesting relationship between the two of you. — You thought your relationship with Duncan was nothing more than an arrangement. But when he catches wind that you’re seeing other people in the mean time, is that really all it is?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: sugar daddy!Duncan, fem!reader, smut, oral sex (male receiving), jealous!Duncan lmao, dirty talk, rough sex, spanking, plot heavy obvi

A/N: Sorry this took forever, I wanted to work out all of the details before I continued this story! Let me know what you think, and what you want to see in the next part, because I have one more part planned to wrap this up if that’s something you guys are interested in! I have the main plot outlined, but I’m totally open to suggestions for other little scenarios! Also shoutout to @avesatanormalpeoplescareme for the inspo for this! It helped so much thank u I owe you my life.

The following months after agreeing to Duncan’s little, arrangement, per se had been going pretty great. Well, better than great actually. You were less stressed than you’d ever been. Working less hours at the coffee shop due to the continuous stream of cash flowing into your account had done wonders for that wrinkle in your forehead caused by the constant worry of trying to make rent. Not living paycheck to paycheck whilst simultaneously having some of the best sex of your life was a situation you’d never thought you’d find yourself in, yet here you were. You had acquired a new pep in your step, and you never wanted it to end.

Keeping Duncan happy was pretty simple. He’d fallen into a routine. The two of you met on Thursday nights, the same hotel and the same room. He always texted you beforehand, but it’s not like you weren’t already expecting it. A blacked out SUV arrived promptly at your apartment, and dropped you off at the front steps of the hotel. He’d greet you at the door, and have your clothes ripped off before you made it to the bed. You started to wonder if maybe he was married, that he had a wife and kids somewhere and that’s why he always insisted on meeting at the hotel. He assured you that he wasn’t, he just didn’t want his security team alerting anyone of the new role you now played in his life.

He wasn’t lying when he’d said he’d take care of you. Usually, your gifts were delivered to your apartment. A new laptop, a Birkin bag, Prada sunglasses, random all-inclusive weekend trips with your roommate, and anything Yves Saint Laurent made you probably owned now thanks to Duncan. The packages, regardless of their contents, always came with a delicately wrapped parcel of lingerie. Sometimes it was just a new pair of lacy panties, other times a full set complete with fishnet stockings and garter belt. He’d never told you outright that he wanted you to wear it when you were together, but you figured those were his intentions. It always got him going to see how beautiful you looked thanks to him and his money.

Other times, he would just slide you his black card and let you keep it for the week to do whatever you pleased. You were hesitant at first, not knowing what his limit was. But given that he had been supplying you with enough funds to pay your bills, you didn’t think he really had one. Still, you tried not to go too overboard. You’d get your nails done, change up the tone of your hair, maybe have a spa day or pick out a few new pairs of shoes for yourself, all at Duncan’s expense. You quickly found out that he couldn’t care less how much you’d end up spending, it was more of a kink for him than anything. The more, the better in his opinion. He was far more preoccupied by the way your ass looked in the jeans he’d bought you the week before than to worry about the charges on his account.

In the beginning, you’d felt dirty about the entire situation. It kinda felt like you were doing something illegal by allowing Duncan to buy you such extravagant things when all you were doing was fucking his brains out. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with the way your relationship worked, it was just something you’d only ever seen in movies and never once thought you’d be living out yourself. Turns out, Duncan was decent company. You always hung around for a few hours after fucking just to talk to each other for a while. Duncan would ask you about your classes and make sure you were taking care of yourself. He’d vent to you about the assholes that worked for him and you’d rant about your stupid professor that gave you a C on an essay you knew for a fact you’d deserved as least a B+ on. “I can get them fired if you want, you know. Got a few secrets of theirs up my sleeve that I’ve been dying to share,” he would joke.

“Oh yeah?” you’d laugh along, “You’re sponsors. Don’t think that would serve your family all too well now would it?”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

Having more free time away from work also meant that you also had more time to socialize with people your age for once. A few weeks ago, you’d met a guy at a party thrown by a fraternity your university. He was tall, hot, charming; at least that’s what you initially thought. You’d hooked up with him that night, and somehow he ended up with your phone number. He asked you out on a proper date, and you said yes seeing as there was no harm in giving it a shot. The entire night, all he did was talk about himself. Anything that came out of his mouth served no other purpose than to boost his ego, not that he even had anything to be proud of; his frat was notorious for being sexist pigs and it was beginning to be blatantly obvious. It was clear that he was far more interested in you than you were into him, but you kept him around. You only hooked up with Duncan once a week, so you needed someone to fill the gaps during his absence. He was tolerable.

With this new man in your life came a problem: every time he would fuck you, all you could think about was Duncan. The way his hands would roam your body like he knew every inch and every pressure point that made you squirm. The way his tongue felt gliding over your hips before dipping down to taste you. This guy had nothing on Duncan, and you knew it. He was rough, but not in the way that you liked. He didn’t care about your pleasure in any capacity; sometimes he pulled out without even bothering to make sure you finished too. As much as you hated to admit it, the only time you were even able cum was when your eyes were screwed shut, completely ignoring the boy on top of you and imagining it was Duncan pounding you into next week. There was just something about the way he carried himself and the fact that he had given you everything you could ever ask for that made every other man seem dull and bleak.

One particularly hot day, a Tuesday, you were seated at a picnic table in the courtyard on campus. Enjoying the sun, you figured you’d spend your break in between classes outside studying. Your exposed legs were perched atop one of the bench seat, on full display for anyone that walked by; your chest adorned with a see-through blouse that was unbuttoned a few more holes than what was considered appropriate. The beams that shone on you made your slightly sweaty skin glisten in an almost otherworldly way. Not getting to enjoy the rays for long, your tranquil state was brought to a halt when none other than your favorite frat boy made his presence known by tugging one headphone from your ear.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“Hey dollface, whatcha up to?” he asked, clearly unaware that you were a bit preoccupied.

“Well, I was trying to study for my Global Politics exam. But it seems like that’s not going to happen with you sitting here,” you answered, clearly annoyed. He smirked and laughed as if you’d meant it as a compliment. Yuck.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to Chad’s party on Thursday night. It’s gonna be insane! He’s got basically all of Sigma Chi coming, so you know that some crazy shit’s gonna go down.” God, you really couldn’t stand to listen to this man talk. He’s lucky his cock was so big or else you’d have blocked his number by now. Thursdays were reserved for Duncan, so even if had any inking of an interest in going it was an automatic no.

“Sorry, I’ve got plans. I can’t,” you didn’t want him to press the matter any further.

“Oh yeah, like what?” he questioned, his hand moving to rest on the top of your bare thigh.

“Listen, I just can’t. Okay?” He didn’t move his hand from your leg. Instead he began to massage the soft skin on the inside of your thigh in a manner that was far too crude for the public eye. It was his poor attempt at trying to persuade you, as if his actions actually had any effect on you as of lately.

He continued to go on and on about this stupid fucking party, his fingers still kneading your skin. Not wanting to look at his face any longer, you rolled your eyes and tilted your head in the other direction. That was when you heard the deep, rich voice you’d recognize anywhere quickly coming in your direction. The voice that occupied your thoughts at all times, the voice that muttered those words that made you come undone in a matter of minutes.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as soon as you saw him. There, walking with the dean of your university, was Duncan fucking Shepherd looking as entrancing as ever. Even in this stupid fucking heat, he still looked like he just walked out of a fucking magazine. He was making his way through the courtyard chatting with the Dean of the university. Most likely, he was talking up some another sponsorship deal that would inevitably promote the Shepherd Freedom Foundation as he always was, but you didn’t have time to listen to what he was saying. Before you knew it, his eyes were on yours. They flickered with recognition before realizing the position in which he had just caught you in: sprawled out on a bench seat, short shorts, chest out, with some boy’s hand between your legs. He took in your form, his eyes lingering for a noticeable amount of time on your thighs and the way the boy beside you seemed to be getting a little too handsy. He looked angry, his eyes boring a hole into your skin and his lips pursing just slightly.

In an instant, he was back to acting like he hadn’t even noticed you in the first place. He carried on his conversation with the Dean and kept walking until he was out of your sight. What the fuck just happened? Was he actually mad? It sure as hell seemed like it. He’d never told you that you couldn’t see other people. Your relationship was an arrangement, not exclusive. You quickly removed the boy’s hand from your leg and threw your books into your bag. You had to get the fuck out of there before Duncan came back to confront you.

“Damn, leaving so soon? We’re still on for this afternoon though, right?” You weren’t really sure how you’d even caught his question with all of the anxiety flowing through your body from being caught red-handed with another boy in front of Duncan.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever. I’ve got to go. See ya.” Your brief interaction with Duncan, if you could even call it that, had left you with your panties soaked. If he wasn’t there to give you release, you had to make do. This impotent frat boy was going to have to work.

You never heard anything from Duncan after the incident at school. Maybe he wasn’t as bothered by it as you’d thought. Maybe it had just caught him off guard as much as it did you to see each other unannounced like that. After cooling down, you’d decided it wasn’t a big deal regardless. You were allowed to see other people just as much as he was. The sex and money were just that. You were friends at most. It still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about him the entire time during your hookup that afternoon.

Just as you’d arrived back to your apartment, you received a text from Duncan asking you to meet with him. It was only Tuesday, so that was odd. Shit, maybe he was mad. You quickly responded, and within half an hour the SUV was parked outside waiting for you. Climbing in, you were preparing yourself for the worst. Was he going to break it off? Was he going to yell at you? You honestly had no clue. When the driver passed the usual exit you took to get to the hotel, you grew confused.

“Excuse me, where are we going? You passed the exit for the hotel.” you stated.

“Mr. Shepherd has requested your presence at his residence this evening, Miss,” he retorted. This was new. Duncan’s never invited you over to his place before. You’d only ever seen him within the confines of the lavish hotel. Something was definitely going to go down, and you weren’t sure if you were more nervous or excited.

It didn’t Duncan but a second to greet you at the entrance of his apartment after a few hesitant rattles of your fist against the door. His face broke out in a slight smirk, satisfied that you’d agreed to come over on such short notice.

“Y/N, I’m glad you could make it. Sorry I couldn’t make a reservation at the hotel this late, and it was...urgent that I saw you tonight,” he stated. His manner was very composed, but somewhat cold. Yep. He was definitely mad. You didn’t say anything, you simply followed him further into the apartment. The exposed brick walls were painted a stark white, and sleek, black furniture littered the open space. A giant Keith Haring painting hung perfectly on the wall, and the kitchen was probably larger than your room for Christ’s sake. The entire apartment was dripping with wealth. He walked you to what was presumably his bedroom, also adorned with minimalist decor you knew cost more than all four years of your tuition.

“Care for a drink?” he asked without even turning to look at you whilst making his way over to the bar cart that rested in the corner of the room.

“Uh, sure,” your voice went up an octave as you tried to suppress the way his stoic composure made you so incredibly nervous and turned on at the same time. You took the glass from him and quickly threw it back. Alcohol was necessary for whatever he was about to say or do to you. Handing the glass back to him, his hands lingered on yours for a moment, relishing the feeling of your skin on his.

Sensing your timidness, Duncan moved his hands to grip you by the shoulder and brush your hair out of your face to try and calm you. As he tucked the loose strand behind your ear, his eyes caught a glimpse of a blue-ish purple shadow that adorned the column of your neck. You weren’t aware of this, however. It wasn’t until he took your cheek in his hand, ran his finger along the edge of your jaw, trailing it down slowly to firmly apply pressure to the bruise on your neck that you realized what he had seen. Wincing at the feeling of his thumb digging into the bruise, it dawned on you. Fuck. You had told your little frat boy you’d met with earlier that afternoon no marks, guess he really wasn’t good for shit. His eyes blackened, and his nostrils flared slightly at the thought of knowing someone else had done this to you, that someone else had been inside of you.

“Get on your knees.”

Out of instinct, you let out a chuckle. “What is this? A punishment? Because I fucked another guy? Are you jealous or something?” He only continued to stare deep into your eyes as you lashed out. He hummed in response before speaking.

“You can be a real fucking brat sometimes. You know that, Y/N?” he replied while moving his hands to his belt, beginning to undo the buckle. You hadn’t had time to notice the tent in his pants begging to be set free. “But no, sweetheart, this isn’t a punishment. Far from it, actually. Think of it as a reward.” Oh, he was definitely jealous. He just wasn’t going to admit it. And it was hot.

His words sent sparks ablaze inside of you. Reaching for the buckle yourself, you quickly made work of unzipping his dress slacks, grabbing both his pants and his boxers and letting them pool around his ankles in one go. You were now eye-level with his throbbing erection, small beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock. Taking his member into your hand, you guided it to your lips and ran your tongue around the tip before partially taking him into your mouth a couple times. He hissed in response and shut his eyes tightly, pleasure already taking over him.

You withdrew him from your mouth completely and ducked your head down to lick a flat line from in between his balls along the underside of his cock to the tip, feeling the large vein that ran along his shaft brush against your tongue. He let out a shaky breath mixed with a strangled, “Fuck,” at the feeling. You smirked against him as you went back to alternating between small kisses and kitten licks along his head. Done with your teasing, he abruptly grabbed you by the back of your hair and eagerly forced himself down your throat. You gagged slightly as his cock brushed the back of your throat, Duncan finally letting out the moan he’d been suppressing. He couldn’t help but buck his hips into your mouth, only pushing himself further into you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and slowly rolled down your cheeks at the sudden sensation of his movement.

Once Duncan was fully seated in your throat, you began to bob your head up and down along his cock. Setting your pace, you took him in your mouth as far as you could, pumping what you couldn’t with your hands. Your steady rhythm elicited a strong of grunts to fall from Duncan’s lips. He continued unravel and found it incredibly difficult to keep from pushing your head further down onto him each time.

“That’s it, take daddy’s cock. God, your pretty little mouth feels so fucking good when I’m fucking your face like this.” His praise caused you to moan against his cock, the vibrations making his knees shake slightly. He was beginning to lose his composure, and you knew he was reaching his breaking point.

Without warning, he ripped you off of him by the roots of your hair. Letting out a yelp, you looked up at him in anticipation of what he was going to do next. He peered at you with blissful eyes as he helped you off your spot on the floor. The hem of your shirt was over your head before you were back on your feet, your shorts and bra hitting the ground with an aggressive whack as he threw them to the side. Backing you up to the bed, he bent down and swept your legs out from under you, causing you to fall back onto the plush mattress. You backed yourself slowly up the bed, maintaining eye contact with Duncan and he quickly removed what was left of his clothing. He was still rock hard, his cock bobbing in the air as he made his way back up to you at the front of the bed.

You could feel his breath fanning across your body as he kept his head almost flush with your chest and made his way up to meet your face, supporting himself with a firm grip on your legs. He took in the mess he had made of you: cheeks sparkling with tears, lips plump from the events that took place only moments ago, hair in knots from his tight grip. Approving of his handiwork, he trailed back down your chest, leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses from the bottom of your ribcage down to the waistband of your panties.

“Were you wearing the panties I bought you?” he questioned, breaking the silence.

“W-was I what?”

“Were you wearing the panties I bought you when you fucked that boy I saw you with today?” You froze. His words paralyzed you. You couldn’t do anything but stare at him as your labored breaths caused your chest to dramatically rise and fall.

He smirked at the look on your face. Hooking his thumbs around the thin lace, he slowly slid your panties down your legs and dropped them at his side. You knew you were soaking wet by now, Duncan’s blatant rage and jealously at the thought of you fucking someone else only fueled the fire in the pit of your stomach.

“Were you this wet for him? Were you dripping for him like you are for me right now?” He ran his pointer and middle fingers through your slick, finally touching you for the first time that night. The simple touch made you jolt forwards and exhale loudly.

After a few more slow, antagonizing circles around your clit, Duncan removed his fingers from your core. He quickly gripped you by your ankles and flipped you over so you were lying face down against his bed, your cheek now pressed into his fluffy pillow. You felt one of his hands grab at your waist, raising your ass into the air and then using the other hand to press your chest back down onto the mattress so your body was arching forwards.

“I wonder if he knows what you really like? That you like to be thrown around,” he paused to rear his hand back and lay a firm smack against your ass that was sure to leave a bright red handprint, “spanked. That you cum harder with a hand wrapped around your throat.”

You finally felt the tip of his cock run along you ass down to your clit, preparing you to be split in two. Duncan chuckled before adding, “Fuck, did he even make you cum, Y/N? Or was he too caught up in himself to care about you?” His questions were rhetorical. It was all for his benefit, to prove that he was better for you than the little boy he had caught you with in the courtyard. An ego boost. A way to displace his jealousy. He was right though, and you knew it. Nothing compared to the times you had shared with Duncan. The frat boy you’d been seeing was just that, a boy.

With a swift thrust, Duncan buried himself inside of you. The pillow muffled your scream, but it was still loud enough to echo throughout the room. He pulled himself all the way out before slamming back into your aching cunt with a jealous force. He was determined to have you so full of him that you wouldn’t be able to remember the name of guy who you’d been screwing before him. His speed combined with the angle of your ass in the air made every inch of his cock fill you with ecstacy. Your moans were replaced with chants of his name. Combined with the sounds of his hips smacking into your ass and the sloshing coming from each thrust into your core, you were becoming unable to even hold yourself up in the air.

It felt like he had been pounding into you for an eternity, and you never wanted it to end. You felt your release winding up inside of you, causing your eyes to screw shut and your body to hold as still as possible in order to bring it on faster. Your moans became whimpers, and you gripped at his sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. Duncan sensed how close you were, and promptly pulled out before flipping you over once again to rest on your back.

He gripped the base of your neck and applied slight pressure as he entered you again and set his pace, only this time he was able to see your face. “Tell me, Y/N. Does he take care of you? Does he take care of this pussy like you know I can? Does he even have the means to make you feel the way I can?” Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as the words left his lips. It was almost enough to send you straight over the edge, but now quite.

“I need to know, love. Before I let you cum, does he take care of you like I can?” He took your leg and wrapped it around his wait so he could give your ass another hard smack and simultaneously hit your inner walls deeper and deeper.

“NO! He doesn’t make make me feel the way you do. No one does.” the words ripping through your lungs as you finally gained the energy to form something coherent. He was clearly pleased with your answer. Smirking to himself, he used the hand that was wrapped around your neck to pull you in for a kiss. It was sloppy and your noses smashed together, but it felt right. He dropped his head to your ear and moved his hand down to begin rolling your clit between his fingers.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Go ahead, cum for me. Daddy’s got you. You can let go.” He whispered as he placed hot, wet kisses over top of the hickey left by the guy he wanted to beat into oblivion.

With that, you were cumming. Hard. Duncan continued to fuck you through your orgasm, allowing you to ride every wave of pleasure that pulsed through your body. The way your cunt contracted around his cock brought on the start of his release in turn. His hips started to sputter and his eyes were screwed shut. He quickly removed himself from you before pumping his length in his hands a few last times. You felt hot ropes of his cum shoot up your belly and onto your breasts as his moans filled the room. The expression on his face was nothing less than a dream: mouth hung open, jaw tense, eyes rolled back like they were going to fall out of his head. Duncan immediately flopped back onto the bed, trying to recover from everything that had just happened.

After catching his breath, he propped himself up on one elbow and ran his fingers through the cum on your stomach before pressing two of them into your mouth to taste him. You eagerly accepted, wrapping your tongue around his digits to such them clean similar to the way you’d taken his cock earlier in the night. You couldn’t help but feel like the events that transpired from earlier today at school up until right now had changed things between you two. That the boy he’d seen you with triggered something inside of him that he’d perhaps been trying to avoid.

“What was that for?” you asked, hoping he’d clarify the reason behind his actions.

“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to.”

PART THREE

Tagging:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @venusxxlangdon @langdons-rep @ccodyfern @michaellangdong @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @wroteclassicaly @omg-hellgirl @aveiangdon @belusima

#Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #michael langdon x reader #jim mason x reader #hoc #ahs #my writing #mine

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gh15778k-blog · 5 years ago

Text

It was my first time diving. It felt weird as I've always fear the deep sea.

I went there with someone, a guide more precisely.

He take me somewhere beyond the dark deep sea. At first I was scared to go as it was really dark but after what feels like a split second diving trough the dark a light shine through my eyes.

I can see what seem like a civilisation, wet market actually with humans. The guide smiles seeing my suprised face. We reach the bottom.

I can walk and talk normally here. The guide start to explain everything to me. He says the the riches discover this place on their sponsored science trip and kept this secret to themselves. This new place is rich with minerals and the land is very fertile. So the riches bring slave workers down here to work on their farm. The crops grow healthier and faster down here. With no tax and free land for plantations, the riches go more rich. This has been going on for years. They workers are kept here and never been allowed to go up in order for the secret not to be exposed. Now, a whole civilisation has live down here build from the slave workers. The market that I see earlier is their place of business.

While the guide is explaining all this, I never realised when I took off my diving equipment. I don't need it anymore here.

The guide also said that whenever I want to go back up, just hold my breath and jump really hard. As long as I don't swim away from the place I came up, I can come back down by holding my breath, close my eyes and let myself fall down in the water.

The guide ask me to go explore on my own. I was told to go to the area where the riches live.

The house or I could say castle is very insanely big. I reach the last house. There are only about 2 or 3 house here.

The design is nothing like I ever seen before. I ring the bell. " who is it? ", a voice asking from inside. " I was told this house is open for visitors?, like a museum?" "Yes, it does". The massive door opened. "Come in". " This house is always open for everyone, I want people to come and marvel over it"

The person who open the door seems really proud of her house. She has dark golden almost orangish hair, slender and tall, wearing a long white gown that flows gracefully in the water. The wrinkle on her face shows that she aged gracefully for she is beautiful and poised nothing like her age.

She continues to give me tour around the house. The house is big, the walls and floor is made up of what seems to be tile art.

Through one of the windows, I could see a shabby little shack not far from the house. She said that is the place for the housekeeper or slaves as she called them. Their place is put away far from the house as she said that they smell. They would have to walk about 1 km from the house in the middle of the night, clean the house and go back before the sun come up. This was all so that she doesn't have to see them when they clean the house. The only helper that she keep during the days are only young girls. They are dressed up so that they don't sore her eyes, so she said.

While touring, we enter an empty room. The floors and walls in here also fill with tile art. As I was walking, some of the pieces of the tile on the floor light up. I was wierded up. But the more I move, the more pieces that I stepped on light up. Suddenly I could hear her clap. I turn toward her.

She was grinning. She said that she knew I was special. The lighten up tiles prove it. Only her true descendant can do that. She was extremely happy as she was worried that when she dies the helpers will get her fortune for she have no heir. She never married.

"This calls for a celebration", she said joyfully. She then told me to change my clothes for the celebratory dinner.

I was brought to a changing room. It was full with beautiful young girls. They are her helpers. They are trying to help me get ready for dinner. Among the beautiful young girls, an old man who dress in a tux, like a butler. He brings me the dress to wear. He said that he have to open my dress and be here while I'm changing. I argue, of course. I'm not going to let a man open my dress and see me naked. He kept on insisting that this is the way in this household. I have to agree whether I like it or not as I am currently in this house.

While we were arguing about this, a handsome young man comes in. " I can help you with that". I was confuse and feel warry about this guy. Who is he, and why is he in my changing room. " I can help you by being the one who open the dress for you" I frown, more confuse than anger. Who is this nobody now. First an old man wants to change my clothes now another stranger too. " A man is required to open your dress, I can do that. He have to be here to see you change. I can order him to close his eyes as I have that authority, and I will close my eyes too" the young man explained. After his explanation, I agree to it.

I change my clothes just like the way he explained. He open my dress, then I turn around, take my dress from the butler who is holding it with his eyes closed, and wear it. I had a little bit hard time buttoning the dress as I was unfamiliar with buttons and the dress is a little bit tight. " You seem to be struggling there". Shocked, I turn around to see the man with his eyes open and smiling. Before I could say anything, he grabbed my waist with his left hand and caress my face with the other. "Your body is so beautiful" he whispers. He smile sneakily. He then let go of me, turn around and walk away, while yelling, "Come on, we're going to be late for dinner" .

As I enter the dining hall, I could see the house owner, the strange young man, both sitting at the table. The table is filled with variety of dishes from one end to another. The food is all unfamiliar to me, except for the plain rice and lasagne. I serve myself some lasagne. Both of them start eating already. Both of their plates fill with mountain of dishes. They are eating as if they are ravenous and been starving for days. Feeding themselves with both of their hands, food stain all over their cheeks and clothes. I was grossed out by the way they eat but decide to just ignore it. As I was about to eat, the lady of the house interrupted me. "Why are you eating lasagne by itself?, you are supposed to eat it with the rice". Again, I was weirded out by this. I felt weird to eat lasagne with plain rice, so I reply, " it's okay, I prefer to eat it like this". She startled upon hearing my answer. The young man also look shocked. They both just look at me with a surprised look on their face. Their expression slowly turn from suprise to anger.

Then, I wake up.

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starship-squidlet · 5 years ago

Text

companionship

A/N: inspired by this post by @sosoubrette!

Summary: Leorio and Kurapika adopt a cat.

Word Count: 2,194

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter X Hunter, Kurapika, or Leorio. I do, however, own this story! Cross-posting to ChocolatteKitty-Kat on FF.net and Ao3 and maliciousbubbl3s on Tumblr.

"I'm home!" Leorio called, shutting the door and kicking off his shoes.

"Back here!" Kurapika's voice came from the back of the apartment.

When Leorio walked through the door to the bedroom, it took him a moment to realize that Kurapika wasn't there—he was in the bathroom, ok his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of the shower. "What, uh… what're you doing down there?"

"Cleaning," Kurapika grunted, scrubbing harder at a mark on the floor.

"I'm pretty sure that's part of the floor, there, babe," Leorio said gently, setting his briefcase aside.

Kurapika sat up and swiped his wrist across his brow. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I know, sorry," Leorio sighed. He sat down behind Kurapika and wrapped his arms around the blond, pulling him into his lap.

Kurapika tried to pull away, but Leorio held him tight. "Let me go. I want to finish what I was doing."

"The shower is already spotless," Leorio said soothingly. "You already finished."

"But…" Kurapika mumbled. The scrub brush slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

Leorio sighed and pulled him even closer. "It's okay," he murmured. "Come on." He scooped Kurapika up in his arms and maneuvered the two of them carefully through the doorway and into the bedroom. He sat Kurapika down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of him, taking Kurapika's hands in his own. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Kurapika sighed. "Nothing."

"Come on, talk to me," Leorio urged. "Did something happen?"

"No…" Kurapika sighed.

"Then what's wrong?" Leorio pressed. "Come on, I need you to talk to me!"

"It's nothing!" Kurapika insisted, pulling his hands away. "It's just… when you're gone, sometimes it gets so quiet around here. I have to do something to break it. Cleaning is usually the best option."

Leorio sat back on his heels, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me that's how you were feeling?"

Kurapika shrugged. "It's not like there's anything to be done about it. You have class and work. And even if you didn't, it wouldn't be fair or practical to ask you to spend all your time with me."

"Yeah, but I could try and rearrange my schedule a little bit so I'm not gone for so long at a time," Leorio protested.

"No," Kurapika said shortly. "I don't want you to have to change your life for me."

Leorio smiled kindly and reached up to cup Kurapika's cheek. "You're my whole world. I wouldn't mind changing anything for you."

Kurapika smiled and nodded, but pulled away. "I need to go pick up the things in the bathroom."

Leorio let him go with a sigh. "Hey, what do you want for dinner?" he called out as he started to change out of his scrubs.

"Nothing in particular," came the reply.

"How does spaghetti sound?"

"Fine by me," Kurapika appeared at Leorio's elbow, smiling brightly. Leorio could still see a shadow in the rich blue of his eyes, but let it slide.

Kurapika helped him make dinner, which was generally an… experience, but spaghetti was a hard dish to mess up. Leorio set him to stirring the pot of pasta while he cut some veggies to steam in the microwave. He glanced over his shoulder and frowned slightly. Kurapika was stirring the pot listlessly, staring off into the distance. Leorio sighed and turned back to his vegetables.

.*.*.*.*.*.

"How do you feel about dogs?"

Kurapika glanced up at the question. It had been two days since Leorio had come in to find him frantically cleaning the bathroom, and they hadn't said anything about it since. However, Leorio hadn't been able to get the image of Kurapika scrubbing the already-clean tiles or the conversation that followed out of his head, and had been trying to come up with a solution.

Kurapika tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, his blond hair slipping away from his face. "I don't mind them," he said finally. "They're not the worst, but there are definitely better animals. The only dogs around when I was a kid were the few stray Nightwolves that would wander down from the mountains, and you didn't want to get too close to those. I guess I've never really been around dogs, though, so I've never really thought about it."

Leorio nodded thoughtfully and turned back to his laptop.

"Why do you ask?" Kurapika leaned around to look at the computer screen. "The local animal shelter?"

"Well…" Leorio sighed, shutting the laptop and setting it aside. "I've been thinking about our conversation from the other night, and I guess I just thought that maybe there's a solution to how lonely you get when I'm gone all day."

"... A dog?"

"It was just a thought," Leorio said defensively.

"It wasn't a bad one," Kurapika said quickly. "And I really appreciate it. It's just that a dog seems like a lot of work, because it can't really stay cooped up in the apartment all day on days when I'm not here."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Leorio sighed.

Kurapika laughed. "I have a feeling that you were already kind of set on getting one."

"Maybe a little," Leorio admitted sheepishly. He opened the laptop and clicked out of the browser window, returning to his homework.

"Why don't we go by anyways?' Kurapika suggested after a while. "We could see if we could like… sponsor a dog until it gets adopted or donate to them or something. I know it's not quite a solution to the problem you wanted to solve, but I'm sure they could use the support."

Leorio visibly brightened. "We could go tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow?" Kurapika repeated.

"I have a half day at school, and you're home, right? I could come pick you up after class and we can go together!"

Kurapika smiled at how easily excited Leorio was. "Okay. Tomorrow it is."

.*.*.*.*.*.

When Leorio pulled up outside of the apartment building, Kurapika was already outside, standing under the awning above the front door. He wore a heavy jacket and dark jeans, and even from a distance Leorio could see his breath coming in puffs of cloud. As Leorio came to a stop, Kurapika darted across the sidewalk, golden hair bright against the deepening gloom of the rainy winter afternoon.

"Where's your umbrella?" Leorio admonished once Kurapika was in the car and shaking water out of his blond locks.

"I think it's in here, actually," Kurapika craned to look in the backseat, then reached back and produced a bundled-up black umbrella. "Ta-da."

"Put your seatbelt on," Leorio laughed, already pulling away from the curb.

The animal shelter wasn't far from their building, but the end-of-day traffic made the drive take twice as long as it should have. By the time they finally got to the shelter and parked the car, the rain had trickled off to a mist. Nevertheless, Kurapika and Leorio ran to the door of the building, Leorio holding an arm over his head as if it would somehow keep his hair dry. The air inside the shelter was blissfully warm, and Kurapika peeled off his heavy jacket and hung it on a convenient coat rack near the door.

"Hello there!" the clerk behind the counter had neon green hair and looked altogether too young to be there. "Welcome to the North Yorknew Animal Sanctuary. What can I help you with today?"

Kurapika hung back and let Leorio explain their situation to the clerk. While he waited, he looked around, his eye finally caught by movement behind a large plate glass window to his left. He wandered over.

The window overlooked a room full of cats. There were several cat trees, most of which had cats on every vaguely flat surface. Any bed or cushion on the floor had at least one feline occupant. Kurapika thought he even saw a large tomcat curled up in what was almost definitely a litter box in the back of the room.

"Our cat population has grown quite a bit lately," he turned at the chuckle next to his elbow. A little old woman, stooped over her cane, stood next to him, a smile splitting her wide, wrinkled face. "As happy as I am to see them all in here, we're rather overcrowded. We won't be able to take in many more before we run out of space."

Kurapika frowned, looking over the room full of cats. "Where are they all coming from?"

"In the cold weather, people are more likely to bring in animals that they can trap off the streets," the woman turned and headed deeper into the building. Kurapika glanced back at Leorio, still chatting amicably with the desk clerk, before following her. After the big window, the wall was lined with smaller windows, looking into small cages, many of which were occupied by at least one cat. The woman took him through a door that led into a small room, one of the walls lined with large cages. These were occupied by groups of very small kittens.

"These are litters that have been brought in by some of our cat foster parents lately. The foster parents take in a pregnant mother cat and give her somewhere safe and warm until she gives birth, and then until the kittens are old enough to be separated. Then, the mother is spayed and put up for adoption, as are the kittens." The woman stopped to coo at a trio of white and black kittens who hurried over to the cage door to mewl at her.

At the sound of a weak little yowl, Kurapika turned to look into a smaller cage that he hadn't noticed before. He leaned down to peer into it and was met by a pair of wide, golden eyes gleaming in the shadows of the cage.

"Hi there," Kurapika whispered, smiling kindly even though he knew the expression meant nothing to the animal.

"Oh, this one is a sad one," the old woman sighed, joining Kurapika in front of the cage. "Half of his litter died within days of being born, along with the mother. There were two other kittens that survived, but they were snapped up within days of getting here—kittens usually are."

"Then why is he still here?" Kurapika asked. He stuck a finger through the cage and wiggled it at the kitten, trying to coax it forward.

"He's not very friendly, as you can see," the woman laughed. "What you can't see is that he's all black. It may be silly, but people still believe that black cats are bad luck."

Finally, at Kurapika's coaxing, the kitten crept towards the front of the cage.

"Why don't you have a seat?" the woman smiled. Kurapika obligingly sat on the floor, and the woman opened the door to the cage, pulled out the kitten, and handed him to Kurapika. Sure enough, his fur was completely black, as were his nose and the pads on his feet. The only spots of color were his golden eyes, and the white teeth and pink tongue visible when he squeaked in protest at being picked up. "Here you go," the woman smiled, handing the kitten down to Kurapika.

Kurapika took the cat and held it out at arm's length at first. When the cat started to wriggle and kick, however, he brought it close and cradled it in his arms. When it reached up to lick his face, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Hey there," Leorio's voice came from the doorway. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

Kurapika glanced up, beaming. "Hey, Leorio… how do you feel about cats?"

.*.*.*.*.*.

"That should be fine," Leorio stepped back and eyed up his work. He had moved the chair out of his and Kurapika's bedroom and into the living room, in order to set up a litter box for their new roommate in the corner.

"I'm sure it will be," Kurapika laughed. He was sat cross-legged on the bed, playing with the cat with a feathered toy.

Leorio flopped onto the bed, careful to avoid the kitten pouncing around Kurapika's legs. "I thought you didn't want a pet."

"I didn't want a dog," Kurapika corrected. "They're too needy, and require too much attention, which isn't a practical thing for either you or I at this point. But cats are a lot more independent. I think he'll be okay with us. And also…"

"Yeah?" Leorio prompted when Kurapika paused.

"I'm not really sure. But when I was holding him, back there in the shelter, it was like he… told me that we all belonged together. I don't know; it probably sounds stupid, but…"

Leorio smiled and reached out to pet the cat, yelling when it wrapped its paws around his hand and dug in with teeth and claws. Kurapika laughed, and Leorio wrestled himself free of the cat. It’s not really a solution, but maybe it’ll help, he thought to himself. "Well, the way I see it, there's one more thing we have to do here,” he said out loud.

"What's that?" Kurapika asked, still distracted by the black kitten.

"What are you going to name him?"

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niall-talk · 6 years ago

Text

This Christmas (7)

I fell asleep much easier last night and woke up earlier this time. I made my way to the kitchen to find Maura setting at the table with a radio playing music that I would expect Niall would have picked.

“Morning dear, did I wake up,” she stood to move to the radio.

“Oh no not at all.” She turned the radio down. “I actually fell asleep not long after you and Chris went to bed.”

After I poured a glass of orange juice; I joined her back at the table. I wanted to ask her about Niall and Greg's relationship. I just didn't know how without coming across nosey.

“What is it dear?” She seemed to read my mind.

I looked up at the ceiling then to her. “Maura what happened between Niall and Greg? I mean Niall hardly talks about him or his family.”

She sat back in her chair and took a sip of her coffee. “The boys love each other. Its that brotherly love that nothing can break, but it can be stretched and bent. There were things said on-line and in person that shouldn't have. Feelings were hurt and also Niall tried to keep them out of the spotlight. After that group started to harass him. They started saying things about Theo. Niall tried to protect them and I think it was taken the wrong way. Why do you ask?”

“I don't think he has ever really talked about them to me before. I mean you and Bobby and the Devine boys I feel like I know everything about you all. But nothing about Greg and his family.” I paused for a moment, “I was a little worried about them seeing each other tonight.”

“Don't worry dear. It only waste time and causes wrinkles,” she patted my arm that rested on the table. “So how about some breakfast?” She got up from the table.

“Don't make a fuss over me Maura. I can fix a bowl of cereal or something.” I really didn't want to put her out.

“You are a guest in this house and I will fuss over you.” She got that mother tone with me that she did with Niall. I just hoped she didn't pinch my ear too.

“At least let me help.” I stood and followed her to the work area. She pulled out the gluten free flour mix and other ingredients. She put me to work of mixing up the pancake batter while she got the griddle warmed up and started on the sausage.

She asked me about my job and how I met Niall. “Basically I'm the one that puts the final plans on all events and make sure they go off without a hitch. I also babysit the members and iron out whatever complaints they have.”

“You poor thing. You needed this holiday then didn't you?” She patted on me like my grandma use to. “So that is where you and Niall met?”

“Yes ma'am. We were doing an event to draw new members in. Justin Rose just happened to be in for a charity event one of his sponsors was involved in. He is an honorary member and he brought Niall for a round of golf. I have worked with Justin on activities before and I met Niall that way. Even sold him on joining the club that day.”

“Yeah yeah,” I heard from the doorway. “Justin had already talked me into it.” He walked into the kitchen and kissed his mom's check. “Um pancakes.”

“Mornin baby. You sleep well?” She acted just like he was still that sixteen year old boy from before he left for the X-Factor. It was kind of heartwarming to see.

“Yeah till I was woke up by two busy bodies being chatty and bangin’ around in here,” he winked at me with that mischievous grin he has. We both gave him a good thump for the comment.

“Good girl Sammy. Don't let him get the best of ya. Someone has to keep him in check when I'm not around.” Maura approved of my actions; thank god.

Niall stood licking his wounds, “Thanks ma, and she don't. Just cause she works at the club with all those snobs she takes it out on me.”

“Hey I do not! Well not all the time. Just when you need it.” I winked at Maura and she gave me a mother approved nod of the head.

After breakfast was enjoyed and Niall helped clean up while I went to shower. Now that I was comfortable with Maura and Chris it was time to meet Bobby and Aoife. Suddenly my stomach and pancakes were not agreeing with me.

In Maura's car with Niall I asked what I should know about his dad and Aoife. He laughed so hard at me I thought we were would end up off the road. “Niall its not funny,” I swatted his arm with the back of my hand.

“Trust me Da already likes ya,” he settled down the laugh. I asked how when he had never met me. “Cause its my da. Bobby finds the good in everyone.”

“Is that where you get it from?” I turned my head to face him. He did that cute little shoulder shrug thing and kept his gaze out the windshield.

Once we pulled up at Bobby's house I looked around. It was nothing like Maura's. Niall asked what was wrong. I just told him taking in the difference between houses.

“Yeah offered ta buy the old man a house, but he wont let me. Irish male pride and all.” He ushered me up the walkway to Bobby's door and inside without a knock.

I followed behind and noticed the decent sized living room with Christmas tree and decorations. It was more lived in and warm and inviting. Reminded me of where I grew up with my brothers and sister.

“Da! We're here.” Niall yelled out to the house.

“Yeah I can hear that,” I heard the voice before I saw the person it belonged to. Bobby rounded the corner and joined us in the living room. He gave Niall a quick hug and asked how he was.

“Good, how are you holding up old man?” He picked at his dad. I stood back and watched the two Irishmen interact and it was almost like watching a mirror. They had so many of the same mannerisms.

Bobby saw me over Niall's shoulder and pushed Niall to the side. “And this lovely lady must be Sam?”

“Yes sir,” I felt my cheeks heat up at his compliment. He was handsome and if he was younger I would say Niall would have some competition with the ladies.

“Sir?” He looked around the room. “There is no sir here love. Just call me Bob or Bobby.” He pulled me in for a hug. Now I know where the “Horan” hug came from. That was the tightest and warmest hug I have ever had in my life.

He looked at Niall with a smirk, “Son, you never told us she was a beauty.” That caught both of us off guard.

Niall just groaned and rubbed his big hand over his face and up through his hair. I looked down at the floor before I felt an arm land around my shoulders. With a laugh Bobby told me that he didn't mean to embarrass me, but he knew a lovely person when he saw one.

“Da, stop flirting with my friend. I'm gonna tell Aoife.” Niall joked with his dad as he took my jacket from me.

We sat in the living room with the tv on low for background noise. “You keeping this one in check I hear,” he patted Niall on the shoulder.

“I try to, but its hard and I don't get paid enough.” I joked back. I couldn't help but laugh at the look I got from Niall on that.

“If my memory serves me right I had to make you check your attitude last.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah well you did have a hand in on it didn't ya?” I asked him with my own raised eyebrow. “And I said I was sorry for it.”

Bobby asked what we were on about. Niall over exaggerated about the night I came to his house ready to rip his head off. “For the sake of our friendship she says.”

Bobby looked at me and I couldn't deny it. “Yes but I thought he had lied to me and went behind my back to my boss. Ended up it was Justin Rose.”

Bobby laughed and it bounced off the walls just like Niall's. “Looks like ya got a feisty one Nialler.”

When it was time for the match to start Niall warned Bobby that I was not a fan of the sport. Bobby shook his head, “Nobody is perfect.”

Bobby had Niall help him bring in the snacks and drinks so we wouldn't have to leave the room. “Now watch her da. She says she's not a fan, but she gets violent and yells at the telly when we watch it.”

“One time Niall. One time and that's only because I had a few drinks in me. You and Mully are ruthless with the peer pressure.” I shook my head at the memories of that night.

“That's alright love. You keep coming around and I'll have ya a Derby fan before ya know it.” He gave a nod to the tv so Niall would turn the volume up.

We made it over halfway before Maura called and asked Niall if we were going to come home and have dinner. She let him know that she had fixed his Sunday roast. I could almost see him start to drool thinking about it. He told her that we would head that way in another ten minutes.

It was obvious that Derby was not going to get the victory so Niall told his dad that we needed to head back to Maura's. “You still coming for Christmas dinner right?” Niall told him that he wouldn't miss it.

“Sam my dear,” he hugged me, “You are welcome to come back anytime with or without Nialler.”

“Thank you Bobby.” For some reason I felt all warm and happy when he told me that. All this family stuff was getting to me. I had not felt this welcomed by a family in years. These people had only known me for hours and they treated me better than my own.

#niall horan #anon request #this christmas

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sugagimmesugar · 5 years ago

Text

Only Fools Fall for You Chapter 5

Chapter 5: You’re the Sunflower

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6

As soon as he tells them the address of the AirBnB the girls take the lead, joking and chatting along as they get the tickets. Waiting at the bus stop, Emma turns to him, smiling broadly. “So what are you up to in town? Y/n said you’re here for a week?”

He shoots her a panicked look, not quite knowing how to respond without giving away his identity and possibly making a huge mess of things. But here comes y/n to save the day: “Oh come on Emma, I told you not to pry! Just be happy you got an excuse to get smashed on a Monday and be nice to the guy who’s friends with the guy who’s sponsoring our drinks tonight!” She laughs, winking at him behind her friend’s back.

“I was just making conversation!! But sure, I will go into this with absolute minimal info, sounds safe.” Emma lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes at y/n and Namjoon, who are grinning at each other.

“I get that you want some more information, so… uh… I am in town for a week, then we travel to Stockholm... I am here with my six best friends. We are like a family and since we are on holiday at the moment I guess Jimin decided to get drunk. And to save him from possible alcohol poisoning the guys decided to turn it into a party. More people to drink the alcohol means less alcohol for Jimin to consume. Jin-hyung also got some food so we won’t be hungry either. And there’s a bus stop like super close to the flat so if you guys don’t wanna stay you can easily leave. I understand if two girls and seven guys makes you uncomfortable. One of my friends is probably inviting a girl so it won’t be as bad. But yea, we are chill, I hope you’ll have fun.”

While he babbles out his long speech he sees Emma’s eyes light up and when y/n is busy buying the tickets on the bus, Emma whispers to him: “You’re super cute, I was already fine with coming along because of how starry eyed y/n sounded on the phone. But now that I’ve met you, I get it. You seems so considerate and nice. Now let’s get Smashed, Korean boy!”

“Come on guys, where do you wanna sit? We have a few stops until the flat, I think. Let’s go!” his head whips up, catching y/n eyes, she is smiling at him, waving both of them into the bus.

The bus ride doesn’t take long, but the three of them get along splendidly, talking and joking all the time. They only calm down for a little bit when an old lady sits down in their booth. Talking along a bit more quietly the girls suddenly burst into laughter, leaving Namjoon to smile at the lady apologetically. But she just grins: “Ah it’s lovely to see young people have fun. Where are you all from? Are you here for university?” They each give their answer, the lady nodding approvingly at the girl’s explanation of their education. As Namjoon explains he is from Korea and on holiday, the lady perks up: “Oh isn’t that big Korean musician in town? My youngest daughter has been talking about them for months, she is so excited. Do you know BTS? Or was it BST? It’s quite something that we have Korean music here now isn’t it? We never had anything like that when I was young…” He laughs, answering calmly: “Oh yes it’s lovely. They’ve made it quite far already. I am glad your daughter is a fan. They really love their fans!”

Before the lady can say anything more, their stop gets announced and they hastily make their way towards the doors, y/n trying not to laugh out loud at the fact that Namjoon almost got recognized by an old lady. They all wave goodbye to the lady, and get off the bus.

Soon after,they reach the building where the boys are staying. Namjoon has already checked the general situation on the way, texting Jin while y/n took over navigating, so that when they stand in front of the door, it burst open, a very excited Jimin on the other side.

“Jooonieeee! You made it! And you brought girrls! Hiii, I am Jimin! I am sexy, cutie, lovely!” He waves at both girls before getting pulled away by a very exasperated looking Taehyung. “Hey, that took a while. Glad you made it. Please excuse him, he is already very drunk. Come in, the food is getting cold. I am Tae.” He shakes the girls’ hands, a slight bow going along with it.

Seeing how both y/n and Emma seem a tiny bit overwhelmed already, Namjoon decides to take the lead, walking into the flat with his arms spread out, singing along to the song playing in the background.

*Then you’re left in the dust

Unless I stuck by ya

You’re the sunflower, I think

Your love would be too much*

At his somewhat squeaky singing, combined with a quick wink at y/n, the girls relax. Taking off their shoes, they make their way to the living area, only to be greeted by now 7 men talking over each other and having conversations. At their entry, Namjoon immediately rips away from Hobi and introduces them, half in English, half in Korean. The girls nod and smile as each of the guys introduce themselves. It’s quite an image to take in. Each guy busy with something different and yet all moving around each other so fluently it’s like a dance.

Tae and Jimin, who they have already met, are actually dancing right next to the speaker, or is Tae just herding Jimin away from the alcohol? It’s a bit hard to tell.

Then there’s Hobi, or Hoseok, or J-Hope. He introduced himself three times. Three names. And he was smiling brightly at both of them, waving at them from his spot next to the tired looking Yoongi. Yoongi just gave them a quick smile before going back to writing something on his phone.

A head pops in from what seems to be the kitchen: “Ah the leader has arrived with his guests. Get some food before the maknae eats it all……. I am Jin.” With the last words, the broad shouldered man steps out of the kitchen bowing lightly to both girls and shaking their hands while smiling sweetly.

Before they can respond they hear yelling from the kitchen, and Jin turns around, talking quickly in Korean. Namjoon comes up behind y/n and lightly puts his hand on her arm, pulling her towards the kitchen. He whispers into her ear: “Are you okay? I told them to try to speak as much English as possible but not all of them are very good with it. I’m sorry if it’s a lot of Korean.” He smiles at her, eyes locking with hers. Y/n nods: “It’s fine. Obviously! We are the guests here and you’re already going out of your way to make us comfortable. Just have fun and we will tag along.” She smiles at him, looking back at Emma, who has already found an something to keep her busy.

Annoying Yoongi.

“Hi! I’m Emma! What are you writing? Anything interesting? Do you want a drink?” At first Yoongi seems very perplexed by the girl suddenly in front of him. But he soon starts to smile and talking to her, his English suddenly much smoother than Namjoon has ever heard it before.

Y/n smiles, seeing her friend casually leaving her to spend time with Namjoon. So she turns back around to him, smiling broader. They go to the kitchen to get some food,immediately followed by Tae and Jimin while Hobi is texting and Yoongi is busy with Emma.

*Jin yelling at JK in Korean* You can’t drink and eat everything! We have guests! Go and introduce yourself and stop being a brat! You and Jimin already ate half the food I got! How! Did! You! Eat! So! Much!!! You pig!

Namjoo chuckles beside y/n, quickly translating and somewhat explaining what’s happening. Y/n steps forward, getting a plate and taking the place next to JK. She quickly introduces herself to the young man who seems to be breathing in the chicken lying in a bowl in front of him, unbothered by the light slaps and yelling from Jin next to him.

“What’s good? Any recommendations?” Y/n simply asks, JK’s eyes now big in surprise, his hand frozen on the way to his mouth, a half eaten chicken wing held with chopsticks almost falling down.

“Uh…” He chews. “It’s all Korean food. So… Spicy! But the chicken is very good. Almost like home. And beef bulgogi is also good. And noodles! Try the noodles.” He pauses again….”I am Jungkook.” He goes to shake her hand, forgetting the food in it, almost dropping it on the floor. Y/n laughs as Jungkook stumbles trying to catch both food and chopsticks.

“Yaaa!!” they hear an exhausted yell from behind Jungkook. Jin slapping the maknae one last time as he rolls his eyes and turns away, obviously very annoyed. He soon smiles again and says something to Namjoon in Korean who giggles at the remark.

“ He says he might need you around to shock JK into stopping sometimes.” Namjoon laughs, his eyes sparkling as he makes his way over to them, closing the short distance in barely two steps. Behind him, Jin leaves, probably herding the other men towards the kitchen as well.

Jungkook shoots y/n a quick smile before fixing a plate at lightning speed and leaving the kitchen, suddenly in a hurry.

Feeling a hand on her waist, y/n stops inspecting all the different food options and turns to Namjoon, a smile on her face still.

“ So, the buff one said the chicken and the beef bulgogi are good. What do you recommend, “leader”? And can you tell me which the beef bulgogi is? I have never actually had Korean food I am sorry, I am quite clueless at this awesome spread of food.”

“”The buff one”, huh? What am I then?” he laughs, jokingly pulling her closer, their noses almost touching as he wrinkles his brow at her, mockingly inquisitive.

Y/n throws her head back with laughter before sheepishly responding: “You’re mine. I guess Emma has claimed Yoongi, so I claim you.” She sticks his tongue out at him playfully booping his nose.

His mouth is hanging open in shock.

She said “You’re mine.”.

His heart stutters back on, now in overdrive as he beams at her, explaining all his favourite foods and heaping them on two plates. She just laughs softly and follows along with his explanations, asking about spiciness and ingredients here and there.

As they’re both carrying plates filled with about 7 different dishes they make their way towards the living room again.

“Oh, shit. What do you want to drink?” He suddenly turns around, almost crashing into her, barely saving both food and plate from falling. “I completely forgot drinks!”

“Aaah, don’t worry! I’m not picky. Give me something you think I might like. No pressure.” With the last words, she winks at him and makes her way to the living room, yelling at Emma to get food before it’s gone.

He smiles, watching her leave. He had been worried about how she would be with the others, knowing who they were. But she fits right in. Maybe he can actually be just a man with a crush tonight.

But as he turns to the fridge to get some mixers and make some drinks for y/n and himself he hears a well-known phrase from the living room.

“You know, BTS?” he hears Yoongi say.

#Only Fools #bts rm #bts jin #bts suga #bts jungkook #bts v #bts jhope #bts jimin #bts namjoon #bts taehyung #bts imagine #bts fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #rm x reader #rm x y/n

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to-star-lake · 7 years ago

Text

blue [ pt. 1 ]

pairing | pcy x reader count | 2.9k

“Wow, this is...” you heard Baekhyun say from next to you.

“Yeah..no kidding,” you awed as the two of you stood before the entrance of the oceanside resort, your backpacks swung over your backs, hands lingering on the handles of your luggage, jaws dropped in astonishment at the hotel you were staying at.

The two of you have been ogling at the resort ever since the van that brought you from the airport to the hotel turned the corner off the main road past a giant marble sign with the name of the resort. The road led through a lining of towering palm trees, and you and Baekhyun pressed your noses against the windows of the van, taking photos of the scenery.

The van looped around the giant fountain, it’s surrounding pond so big it might as well be a lake, before pulling up to the entrance. The entire facade of the resort was built of stone, pillars rising from the marble landing up to a canopy like an ancient stone acropolis.

“You guys like it?” The two of you turned as your manager walked up beside you in his nicely pressed business suit, his leather laptop bag swung over his shoulder, a single travel case next to him. You and Baekhyun simultaneously nodded your heads, eyes still wide, admiring the resort.

He laughed and started walking towards the entrance, “Alright collect your jaws, let’s go.” The two of you quickly picked up your luggage, shuffling behind him.

The check-in counter and the lobby of the resort was bustling with people. Men and women in business suits sipping coffee at a cafe in the corner, families dressed in t-shirts and swim suits applying sun screen by the front door, small children running about.

“Ok, here’s your reservation confirmations, just go to any person at the counter,” your manager said as he handed you and Baekhyun each a sheet of paper. You walked up to the front desk and a nice, smiling woman greeted you as she took your name for the reservation to check in. She was telling you your room number and which direction it’s in when suddenly you heard a screeching voice next to you, “One of the bellhops said the bars here don’t open until after 5PM is that true?”

You turned and looked at the girl that interrupted your transaction, standing next to you, leaning into the counter, blowing a bubble with the gum in her mouth, creating a loud smacking sound. She was in a tiny, glittering black dress, and you noticed the curls in her hair had spun out in all different directions, the makeup on her face smeared, heels in her hands, standing barefoot next to you. She must’ve just come back from an epic night out, you thought to yourself sarcastically, chuckling under your breath as you glanced at the wide-eyed concierge behind the desk.

“Miss, that’s correct, bars open when all of the hotel restaurants open for dinner,” the woman behind the desk said cordially. “But if you like I could recommend a few restaurants outside the resort premises-”

“Ugh, laaaaame,” the girl cut her off, rolling her eyes, and turning and noticing you standing beside her. “Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, did I just cut in front of you?” she giggled.

You smiled, “Oh no no, don’t worry, I’m pretty much already checked in, I just need to get my room key.” You hoped none of your sarcasm seeped through your words. But you could see in her face that even if it had, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Hey! Are they open or not!” you saw the girl twirl around as she heard a loud voice booming across the lobby. You turned and saw a group of girls, dressed up and yet a complete mess just like she is, standing around two guys in nice shirts, with their top buttons undone, hair messy, and ties untied, hanging from their necks.

You watched as she sauntered back to her group and one of the guys swung his arm lazily around her neck, and she reached her hand up to lace her fingers around his. You saw her shake her head and the other guy hang his head in exasperation at her response. Wow, it must suck to not be able to get a drink at 9AM, you thought to yourself, chuckling.

“Miss, I’m so sorry,” you heard the concierge say. You turned and looked back at her as she hastily swiped your credit card and handed you your room key and pointed down the hall in the direction of your room.

“Oh no, please, don’t even worry about it,” you said, smiling. “I’m sorry for you guys.”

“You have no idea,” she sighed, lowering her voice, “They’ve been here for a week, they’re famous amongst the hotel staff now. I can’t wait to get them out.”

“Well judging by the look of them, you must at least be getting some nice cash outta that,” you laughed.

“Ha, this is true, they have not been stingy with the tips,” she grinned, “Are you here for the conference or for vacation, Miss?”

“The conference,” you responded, and the concierge nodded, turning and brushing through a bin on the desk behind her before pulling out a bag with your name on the tag attached to it.

“Ok, Miss, this is for you,” she said, handing you the bag and pulling out a folder from it. “This has everything you need, here’s the conference schedule, after hours-events, booth numbers, participating corporations, and sponsors all listed.” You took the folder from her, looking down at the schedule to see check which room your presentation was in. “And here are your business cards that we had printed for you per your company’s instructions,” she said as she handed you a small, sleek black box, opening it to reveal a set of polished and minimalist business cards with your name printed on them.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling, seeing your name in print.

“Enjoy your stay miss, and good luck at the conference,” the concierge smiled back.

You waved to her, turning and finding Baekhyun and your manager standing next to the entrance to the coffee shop.

“Dude, these are so nice!” Baekhyun raved, holding up one of his business cards for you to see. “I’ve never had a business card before, this is so adult.”

You laughed, “Same, this is pretty cool.”

You and Baekhyun had come to the resort for a business conference, representing your company. This was the first conference the two of you had ever attended, and both of you were both extremely flattered but also extremely nervous that your company chose you to represent them. The two of you spent months in preparation for this event, rehearsing and fine-tuning your presentations.

The conference lasts for four days and each day is planned down to the second. Breakfast in the morning, networking before lunch, dinner with clients, and sometimes drinks afterwards. You were expected to socialize and engage clients as well as competing companies. The entire event made you feel like you’ve done enough socializing and smiling for a lifetime.

By the end of the third day, both you and Baekhyun were absolutely exhausted. It was almost midnight and the two of you had finally gotten rid of a group of douchey consultants from a competing firm at the bar, and the two of you stayed behind to wind down. You sat across from Baekhyun in a corner table at a hotel restaurant. You laughed as you watched his head drop onto the table top, making a thudding sound.

“Can we go home yet,” you heard him whine through the loudness of the restaurant, groups of people at the bar, by the pool table, laughing and yelling over each other. You smiled, circling your finger around the top of your glass of vodka.

“Hey,” you said, watching as he lifted his head to face you. “We made it,” you smiled, watching him smile in return. He lifted his glass up and you clinked yours against it.

“We really did,” he replied, setting his glass down. The two of you sat, letting a few moments of silence pass as you reflected on how hard the two of you fought for your work to be recognized within your company. How a year of extended workdays and weekends had now become realized as you were representing your company at this conference.

“I think you have a stalker,” you heard Baekhyun say, his eyes low, looking over the rim of his glass as he lifted it up for a drink. You tilted your head in confusion at him. “This dude at the bar has been staring at you the whole time we’ve been here tonight. He was here yesterday too.”

“Ha,” you laughed without turning to look. “Is he at least a cute stalker?” you rolled your eyes, your words coming out with full-fledged sarcasm.

“Nah he looks super douchey,” Baekhyun said, setting his glass down. “Like one of those idiot consultants we ditched at the other restaurant, except like, somehow worse,” his face wrinkled into a disgusted frown, still looking in his direction.

You hit his arm gently, “Dude you should probably stop staring at him then, I’m not trying to have another inane conversation with a consultant,” you laughed, putting air-quotes around the word consultant as you spoke.

“Ugh you’re right,” Baekhyun sighed, downing the rest of his drink. “What the hell even is consulting anyways, it’s such a scam. A whole night of talking to these guys and I still have no idea what it is that they do.” He stood up, pulling his wallet out from his back pocket. “I’m gonna get another, do you want another?” You drank down the rest of your glass as well, nodding to him and he walked over towards the bar.

You sat in silence, looking at the condensation that had formed on the outside of the empty glass in your hand, your fingertips tingling from the coldness of the ice. You found your mind drifting back to when you and Baekhyun had first become friends, how you helped each other through the rigorous demands of your ivy league curriculum. The late nights you spent studying at the library, or the late nights you stayed up at each other’s apartments, consoling each other over failed relationships.

And you thought of how three years later, you’d both been recruited by your company right out of college to work on an impossible project, one that was designed to fail, one that they had no qualms about giving to two wide-eyed, enthusiastic young graduates, eager to learn. But you didn’t fail. The two of you made it a success. You felt a great sense of pride in what you’ve been able to accomplish together.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw a figure slide into the seat across the table from you. You watched as he slid a glass of dark liquor across the table to you. “Baek, this is vodka, I was drinking vodka,” you said, looking up.

You froze, realizing it wasn’t Baekhyun. But he looked familiar. Why did he look familiar? And then you remembered. You remembered the tuffs of messy, dark hair. The fancy, black shirt that hung from his tall frame. He didn’t look very different now. His hair was still a messy flop on his head. And he was wearing a different fancy black shirt. But his face still held the same smug expression of someone without a care in the world.

“Can I help you?” you said, your annoyance ringing through your voice. You watched as the pompous grin on his face grew.

“I could’ve sworn you were a scotch girl,” he said. His voice was low, raspy, and it would’ve been inaudible through the noisy restaurant if not for the fact he actually spoke quite loudly.

You felt your eyebrows crinkle into an annoyed frown. “And what distinguishes a scotch girl,” you rolled your eyes.

“A scotch girl probably prefers sitting at home alone reading books rather than going out and actually living her life,” he gave his unwelcome explanation. “Vodka girls are usually more fun,” he grinned, leaning back in his seat and sipping his drink, the fancy watch on his wrist gleaming in the dim restaurant lighting.

You scoffed. “Wow, what a fresh perspective you have. Don’t you have someone else you can annoy? Like maybe one of those girls in the tiny dresses with the tiny IQs?”

A smile grew on his face. “You don’t like me,” he said.

“Ha, what would give you that idea,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, leaning back in your seat.

“You don’t know me, but you don’t like me.”

“Oh I know you,” you scoffed. “There are many guys out there just like you, you’re not as special as you think.”

"Maybe not,” he grinned, taking another sip of his drink. “But you are.”

“What is that supposed to mean.”

He smiled, his eyes looking intently into yours. “I saw you on Monday,” he said. “You were sitting at a table in the coffee shop by the lobby, flipping through a stack of papers while typing a mile a minute on your laptop.”

“I work, a concept that’s probably foreign to you,” you retorted.

“But you were so engrossed in your work,” his smile never left his face, “Two babies were crying, one small child was running while his mother chased him across the lobby and he tripped and fell flat on his face, the man sitting at the table behind you spilled his coffee and an employee scrambled over with a mop. And you never looked up from your work.”

You blinked at him. Did all of that really happen? “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” he laughed. “I thought I have to meet that girl. I’ve never seen anyone so blissfully ignorant to their surroundings in my life.”

You scoffed, “Funny, I could say the same thing about you.”

“That you had to meet me?” he smirked.

“That you’re blissfully ignorant to your surroundings,” you replied. “Although you’re wrong. I may be unaware, but I’m not ignorant. That’s a word that more accurately describes you and your friends.”

“You don’t know me or my friends,” his grin disappeared.

“Maybe not, but I think I’d rather gouge out my eyeballs with a plastic spoon than spend another minute listening to you tell me about me.”

“Chanyeol, we’re leaving, let’s go!” you heard a familiar voice yell across the restaurant. You turned to the bar and saw his tall friend with the dark black hair waving him over, his arm around a giggling girl, pushing him towards the restaurant’s exit. You turned back, seeing him down the rest of his drink. He smiled at you, “I’m being summoned.”

You returned his smile in sarcasm, “So soon?”

He grinned, standing up and walking past the table, but not before stopping behind your chair, placing his hands on the handles on either side of you, leaning down to your ear, the overwhelming smell of his expensive cologne pouring down in the air around you, “Good luck with your presentation tomorrow, vodka girl.”

You scoffed, hearing his friend continuing to beckon him over as he walked towards them. How the hell does he know I have a presentation tomorrow? you thought. You rolled your eyes. He really is a stalker.

“Ugh dude, sorry, they got me,” you looked up at Baekhyun crashing back into his seat across the table from you. “They found me man, they wanted to talk more about their billables and clients, I wanted to kill myself. They made me take tequila shots! I don’t do tequila shots!”

You laughed, “I think those guys are really into you!”

“Please don’t joke about that, my head hurts,” he dropped his head into the table, leaning on his arm sprawled across the table top.

You stood up, walking over to him and pulling him up from the seat. “Alright, come on. We need to get some sleep.”

You pulled his arm around your shoulder, holding him up as he stumbled next to you, walking out of the restaurant. “Oh, you met your stalker,” he said, burping through his words. “Sorry I left you alone.” You walked him towards his room, opening the door with his key.

“Don’t worry about it, I think your situation with the consultants is a tad worse, you reek of tequila,” you answered, dropping him down on the bed.

“Was he creepy?” Beakhyun slurred, pulling down a pillow and snuggling into it. You walked towards the door, turning the lights off.

“No, he was just an asshole,” you answered under your breath, opening the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, closing the door behind you and walking down the hall to your own room.

You kicked your shoes off, plopping down onto the bed, rubbing your thumbs against your temples. You scooted to the head of the bed, leaning against the pillows and opening your laptop to review your notes for the presentation tomorrow when you suddenly recalled the words he said to you.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be alone and wanting to read instead of being a stupid drunk, you thought. You slammed your laptop shut, pushing it aside on the bed before crawling under the covers. You tried to forget about the whole exchange as you drifted off to sleep. And for the most part you were successful, but somehow his words had affected you. And you didn’t know why.

#chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol series #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol #exo series #exo x reader #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios

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gethealthy18-blog · 5 years ago

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338: From Autoimmune Disease to Thriving Health With Ryan Lee

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/338-from-autoimmune-disease-to-thriving-health-with-ryan-lee/

338: From Autoimmune Disease to Thriving Health With Ryan Lee

Child: Welcome to my Mommy’s podcast.

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Katie: Hello and welcome to the “Wellness Mama” podcast. I’m Katie from wellnessmama.com and wellnesse.com. That’s wellness with an E on the end, which is my new personal care line that I would love for you to check out. And today in this episode, I talk to someone who has become a personal friend and who also has a really cool and somewhat similar story to mine of recovering from autoimmune disease, losing weight, and the process that made that possible. And we go deep on some tactics that we both used that led to that. And also, one of the things he does, which is create bars that meet all of the criteria of every dietary plan, but also that are highly nutritious and a repeatable habit. That was part of his story. And we also will have some fun references to the ’80s and some lifestyle, just in general, time management tips that we share in this episode as well. So, I know you’re going to enjoy this fun and lighthearted interview with Ryan Lee, who is the founder of REWIND. Without further ado, let’s join Ryan.

Ryan, welcome to the podcast.

Ryan: I’m excited to be here, Katie. I am ready to get this Wellness Mama thing rocking.

Katie: Well, there’s so much we can talk about today both in current events and also about your story, but that is where I would love to start. I always love to hear someone’s story and their origin. Think there’s so much power in that. So, to start off, will you walk us through your story and how you got to be where you currently are?

Ryan: Sure. I don’t know how far back. I’m not gonna go to when I was born. Let me go to my first job out of school. I graduated college and I spent the first six years of my career working in a children’s rehab hospital as a recreational therapist, and that’s what my degree was in, recreational therapy and play therapy and adapted aquatics, and I worked with kids who had every type of disability you could imagine, things from spinal bifida, cerebral palsy, spinal cord injuries, gunshot wounds, you name it. And we did play therapy and it was amazing. I’d loved working with kids. I’ve always loved working with kids. But on the side, I was a trainer. So, I would train young athletes. That was… I loved staying fit. I was captain of my track team all through, you know, in college and good career there and I wanted to keep staying athletic and I trained athletes. I trained hockey players, although it was ironic because I still can’t skate. Elite tennis players, gymnasts. And I wanted to build a website for my sports training company, my part-time business, and this was at the end of ’98, so it was really early on. And I just started writing articles about sports training and running faster and jumping higher and all that stuff and things just kind of started to take off. I mean, that was the genesis of me getting into this health world and trying to have more impact and reaching more people.

Fast forward a little bit, sold my site and then that kind of fell apart, then I became a gym teacher in the South Bronx, which is this really rough part of the area called Hunts Point. And so it was an alternative high school. Lot of kids, they’d all pretty much been arrested at one point or another. Lot of former gang members. And I started the whole health and phys ed program. So, this was 2000 and 2001. And I was still building my part-time business to the point where my part-time income was making more than my full-time. And that’s where I took the leap and I’ve been a full-time entrepreneur ever since. Most of my companies and business has been in the health space. And my wife and I have been married now. This year, it’ll be our 20-year anniversary. And we have four beautiful, happy, healthy kitties. And now I’m running Rewind. And I know we’re going to talk about that too. And there you go. There’s a little two-minute version of my journey and lots and lots of ups and downs during those 20 years.

Katie: Absolutely. Well, I’ve heard it said that, you know, sometimes people go into psychiatry to kind of be able to self-diagnose or to work through their own struggles. And I know for me that was very much the reason I got into health was, like, having health problems that doctors couldn’t figure out the answers to and wanting to find my own health answers. And I think we actually have some overlapping parts of our story here when it comes to like health declining and autoimmune disease from what I’m remembering. Is that part of your story as well?

Ryan: Yes, yes. So, that’s… So, I think about 10… So, during one of the downtimes, so 10 years ago, my wife and I we just had our fourth kid and right about that time, my mom passed away from cancer. Really it was like a two-month battle. She was only 63 at the time. One of my businesses fell apart. I tried to launch a print magazine, so I went to all this debt, so I had all this stress. And when you have so many kids, I know I think you have like 14, 15 kids, but I only have 4, but what happened was, you know, we started eating off their plate a little more, start gaining weight and combined with the stress, I started getting joint pain. And I would ignore it. I’m a guy. I try to toughen up and just play through it and run through it or do whatever to the point where, though, it kept getting worse and I woke up one day and I could barely walk. It was… I couldn’t step because it hurt that much and I couldn’t bend my fingers. And it took months and months of going to every kind of doctor and healthcare professional. I started with my general practitioner. I went to physical therapists. I went to chiropractors. I went to podiatrists because my feet hurt. I went to my good friend who’s an orthopedic surgeon. And no one could figure it out ’till finally I went to a rheumatologist. And he looked at me and then saw my fingers were swollen, my feet were swollen, I gave him all the history and in about 10 seconds, he looked at me he said, “Oh, you have an autoimmune disorder, it’s called psoriatic arthritis.” And I’m like, “Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

So, that was the beginning of this journey back to health. I mean, I gained 40 pounds. Everything was just falling apart physically. And it took me a lot of starts and stops. I tried a complete inflammation free diet. I went all in. Went to a naturopath. They said, “Okay. No more sugar. No more dairy. No more gluten ever.” I’m like, “What?” And I tried that for two weeks. Couldn’t do it. It was just too hard, to be honest with you. I know people can do it. I just couldn’t. So, lots of ups and downs ’till about two years ago, I said, “You know what? That’s it. My symptoms are starting to come back. I don’t wanna go on methotrexate,” which is the drugs they recommended. “So, how do I figure this out?” And I said, “Let me just win the morning. Let me start off something in the morning that’s good for me on the go. I got the four kids. I’ve run businesses. I don’t have time to do a lot of stuff. Let me… Is there a good bar?” And I just had a bar every morning. And the problem was I couldn’t find a bar, though, that didn’t have dairy, gluten, added sugar, sugar alcohol and all that stuff. And that gave me the big, “Well, maybe I can create one for myself and maybe there’d be some other people that would like it.” And that became this journey back to health and really focusing on simplification and that’s become this business now called Rewind where it’s about rewinding the years and having things that make you feel good physically, emotionally, mentally, non-inflammatory. And now at the pinnacle, Katie, I’m talking with “The Wellness Mama.” Look at this. It’s amazing how far I’ve come.

Katie: Oh, I love that. And I think your story and my story, like I said, they overlap a little bit and they illustrate that we do have to become, like, partners in our own health and that there is such a personalized and individualized aspect to it, but at the same time there are some commonalities like those whole real foods and avoiding certain common inflammatory triggers in those spaces that can be kind of universally helpful across the board. How long did that process look for you? I know I also recovered from Hashimoto’s and I’m now in remission and all my numbers are great. But how long did that journey take for you?

Ryan: I think from the first time I was diagnosed it was about two years of me trying different things, you know, being good and saying, “Okay. I’m starting to get some symptoms. Let me go strict. No sugar, no dairy, no gluten.” And then I would last a couple weeks and then I’d kind of slowly fall off the wagon and then I’d go back. So, it was two years of that ’till the breaking point I’ll never forget. My wife and I took our kids on vacation, went down to Florida, and, you know, I wore a pair of jeans going down because the northeast, Connecticut. And I was putting the same jeans back on after the vacation coming home and they didn’t fit. And I asked my wife at the hotel, I said, “Did you dry clean my jeans? What’s going on? Why can’t they fi…” And she said, “I didn’t touch your jeans. What are you talking about?” And I gained weight. And I got home and I was so sick and I went I had a double ear infection and went to the doctor and then they said, “You have high blood pressure. You got some serious things starting to happen here.”

And that was, like, the scary point. So, it took two years of up and down, starts and stops ’till I said, “You know what? I need something that…” You’re right. “That has the universal principles of anti-inflammation that’s gonna make me feel good, but something that’s not so restrictive for me that I feel like I can never do it and I’m gonna fall off the wagon again.” So, I needed something that had a little built-in flexibility, which is how I came up with my kind of thing about the ’80s which we can go into in a few minutes, but that was… And I think it’s important for everyone to kind of know themselves and know their own body and see what makes them feel good and what doesn’t make them feel good. Right? What’s against it? So, it was two years of start and stop and then now I’ve been 100%…well, I won’t say 100%, 99% symptom-free for these past two years. So it’s been like four years since I’ve been diagnosed.

Katie: Got it. And do you maintain that same level of, like, dietary restriction now or… I found that once I was able to heal the underlying issues, I actually have a lot more leeway now.

Ryan: Yeah, yeah. And that’s exactly what happened. Now, I have this theory, live like the ’80s. And you know Rewind, we kind of have a fun retro thing, we talk about the ’80s because that was the best decade ever. But my idea was with the ’80s if I can do that Pareto’s principle of 80% of the time I’m gonna eat real good, clean whole foods, as many vegetables as I want, like, unlimited veggies, unlimited fruits and veggies, all good stuff and 80% really good stuff, but yet, you know what, give myself a little bit of leeway with that 20%. So, if there’s a salad and it has all this good stuff, so I love… Luckily, I like a lot of healthy foods now. I love sardines and olive oil. That’s one of my favorite things in the world. That in a bowl of greens. So, I’ll have maybe Swiss chard or arugula or kale. So, that’s, like, the 80% really good, but it’s missing a little something. So, maybe I’ll throw in some croutons, which I shouldn’t have, but that’s my little 20%. And because it has that little crunch and that little extra flavor, it makes me really look forward to the salad instead of just saying, “Oh, it’s good.” I really look forward to it. So, that is my way to kind of play with the 80/20 and give myself some of that flexibility. So, I’m definitely not 100% strict, but I try to eat really well 80% of the time. And if I’m not feeling good, what I find is I’ll kind of move up to the 90s and tighten it up even more and go 90%. And it’s worked. It’s worked well for me and for people that I’ve helped that feels like it gives them a little bit of that leeway.

Katie: Yeah. Well, I love the tie in with the ’80s. I’m a huge fan of the Pareto principle as well and I use that in a lot of areas of life both, like, dietary and fitness, but also just time and organization and house management. I feel like it’s kind of almost universally applicable. But I think it also speaks to another really important point which is… Because I did the exact same thing. I had that cycle for years of… All my symptoms would flare and I would feel bad and then I would tighten everything up to probably a neurotic level and be 100% compliant, which is not sustainable, and then eventually fall off the wagon. And I think that a big key of it, for many people, we all have ideas of what we probably should be doing or we know that we should be eating less sugar or we know we need to avoid certain inflammatory things, but it’s keeping that consistent motivation and focus on being able to do it and I think that’s where that 80/20 comes into play because it makes it sustainable.

Ryan: Yeah. And you know what? It just gives us a little bit of a break. And we put so much stress and pressure on ourselves. And I know obviously, a large majority of people listening to this are moms. There are some that don’t have kids, but we’re under so much pressure, anyway, you know, so much stress caring for not just ourselves, but our family that, you know, you see…and you see it all the time, Katie. You see the diet books. And what’s one of the first pages they have? It’s always within the first 10 pages. It’ll say something like, “Forbidden foods. Ten foods you can never eat again for the rest of your life.” And you look at it and you’re like, “Are you telling me I could never have a chocolate chip cookie forever?” We’re gonna have a problem. So, I think giving people a little bit of a break and saying, “It’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect. Let’s stop worrying about perfection and let’s get really good and dialed in. And I know everyone is different. Everyone is motivated by different things. But I think when you start to do this, knowing that you know what? I could have that cookie, but I choose not to. You don’t have to eat stuff that’s not the greatest for you 20% of time, but you can if you want. I’ll give an example, how this works. So, when I was at my height of just disgusting, like, falling off the wagon, my go-to junk food was plain M&Ms. That was a crack for me. What’s yours, Katie? What’s your “This is like the greatest thing in the world.”? Everyone has something.

Katie: Yeah. I mean, much less anymore. I don’t really crave anything, but it would be… For me, it’s salty stuff, not sweet stuff. So, it would be like chips or french fries probably.

Ryan: Okay. So, for me, it was M&Ms, plain M&Ms. Every night, I would have like a bowl of plain M&Ms, just watching TV and trying to eat away like my stress. And I still… I rarely have M&Ms, but I will have them once in a while, maybe, like, when I go to the movies, like, once a month or something. But the other night I got my kids a little treat and I bought myself a little bag of plain M&Ms, like, a little tiny bag. And it’s been sitting in my house for five days. I just didn’t want it. I don’t want it. I don’t know if I’m ever gonna eat it. But the fact that it’s not like I have this pressure and I feel like, “Oh my God, I’m resisting because I could never have it again,” knowing that if I want to I could, but I just choose not to. Giving yourself that power is… Sounds redundant. Giving yourself that power is powerful. And you’re right. You’re to the point now where you don’t even crave it. And I’m kind of getting there too. Again, I just don’t feel like having it anymore. But I think if it was a diet or “diet,” a restrictive thing where it says, “You can never have sugar. You can never have an M&M. You can never have a cookie. You can never have this. You can never have a slice of pizza the rest of your life,” then I feel that pressure and resistance. Again, this is me personally, and everyone is different. But you do that enough over time and you start feeling good, you don’t want to feel bad again, like, you don’t want to have the M&Ms or the pizza because you know how it makes you feel.

Katie: Exactly. And I think that’s the mindset shift that was pivotal for me and I think everybody’s tipping point of getting here is a little bit different, but it was that shifting focus from foods being good or bad and needing to deprive myself and being angry at my body for what it wasn’t to switching to a point of view of “I want to nourish my body with things that are good because I love my body and I’m trying…and I wanna support it and nourish it,” versus deprive and just taking away that deprivation mindset made all the difference because I think we do have that thing as humans too, like, or at least I maybe I’m projecting, I have that thing where if I’m told I can’t do something, even if I didn’t wanna do it in the first place, now I’m like, “Well, now I do.” It’s kind of like right now we’re all stuck at home. I don’t usually wanna go anywhere anyway, but now that I can’t go anywhere, of course I want to go somewhere.

Ryan: You’re like, “I wanna walk into Target and just hug strangers.” That’s all you wanna do now.

Katie: Exactly.

Ryan: Yeah, yeah. With no gloves, just feeling everyone’s faces. Look, everyone… I think most people feel that. When you’re told you can’t do something, you want it even more. It’s like the restaurant. You can walk by and there could be an empty restaurant and then the restaurant next door has a line at the door, but you want that because you can’t get in. So, yeah, it is pretty powerful that when you just say…you make that shift to, “I just wanna feed myself, my body with really, really good stuff.” But knowing that if I wanna have a little bit of flex time, if I wanna have something that I know isn’t the greatest for me, but maybe it’s a celebratory thing and maybe you don’t like drinking alcohol, like, I think I maybe have one beer every like three or four months. That’s my alcohol. You could maybe say, “Okay. I’m gonna have a glass of alcohol, I’m gonna have a glass of wine,” and not beat yourself up over it or feel guilty or not go out with your friends or your family or go to any holidays anymore because they’re gonna have wine and you feel bad and you’re sitting there the whole night staring at it and just miserable. That’s not fun either.

So, it’s kind of this, this flexibility of giving yourself a little bit of a break and just filling up with the good stuff. When I discovered…when I really, really started to discover, like, how good vegetables are a couple of years ago because I didn’t…I ate a little bit but not a lot, man, it’s life-changing. And you look now and it’s really sad, Katie. You look at the typical American diet and what they eat and there’s just, like, no vegetables. Everything is brown and fried and sandwiches and fried food and pizza. It’s just… It has no nutritional value. Their idea of vegetables is, “Oh, well, I had some lettuce on a hamburger,” or, “I ate ketchup with my fries.” And that’s it. It’s really sad. And people have this misconception that vegetables are just…they taste bad. It couldn’t be further from the truth. My oldest daughter who’s 16 she loves making vegetables. Every day she’s experimenting. She’s like, “Oh, I’m gonna do some Brussel sprouts and I’m gonna try to add this and add these little spices and…” My kids all love eating vegetables, and I think it’s pretty cool.

Katie: Yeah, I love it. Mine too. And me too. And that was something I had to learn as an adult as well because I didn’t grow up loving vegetables and now I can’t imagine not eating as many as I do because I love them. But I think another part of this that was a key for me and I’m guessing for you as well is to simplify and automate as much as possible the things that need to be repeatable to make something a habit versus I feel like the more decisions are built into something, the less likely it is to succeed over time because you hit decision fatigue. And so for me, I eat many of the same meals, like, at least lunches, I’ll eat the same thing over and over the same three meals because it’s simple, I don’t have to think about it. One of them has definitely sardines, but it takes away the decision fatigue and it takes away the choice of it and then I can just stick with it because it’s there, it’s easy and I know what I’m doing. And the same thing with, like, I eat usually a six to eight-hour window every day which is just an easy change that I made that works for me, it won’t work for everyone. But that was a huge key for me. And so I think that’s where things like the bars come into play as well because it’s a simple, repeatable habit that is always there, there’s no decision involved and that tastes great. So, talk about the bars and the formulation. What went into that and why did you decide on bars?

Ryan: And you’re 100% right. The less decisions you have to make, the less willpower and fatigue you start getting. And I’m the exact same way. Every morning it’s a bar with supplements and every lunch it’s either sardines with greens or rice cauliflower with sardines or a piece of salmon or something like that. And that’s 99% of time. That’s my breakfast and lunch. The reason with bars is just for me, it’s really about convenience and something that I’m gonna stick with. And I’ve always loved bars. I love the convenience of them. But I said, “Well, if I’m going to create a bar, if I wanna…” If in a perfect world, because all the bars I always having, the protein bars, and I’m sure you’ve seen this a lot, most protein bars, the protein source is whey protein, which is dairy, which is not great for inflammation. I don’t react well to dairy. And a lot of them, all of the, you know, cookie-flavored ones or anything like that they all had gluten as well. And now the big trend was everyone is like, “Oh, we’re keto this. We’re keto that.” So, what they do is they say we only have one gram of sugar, but they’ll jam it with all this sugar alcohol, which tends not to be the greatest.

So, I’m like, why can’t there be a really good, clean, healthy bar that even has some greens, so we snuck in some spinach and kale, but tastes really, really good? That was the thing because you can have a bar… And there were some bars that are healthier, but they just didn’t taste good and I didn’t wanna have it every morning. I still want something that tastes good. And that was the original idea behind it. Can I create a bar? Can I have one that tastes really, really good that doesn’t have the added sugar, the gluten or the dairy? And it’s only made with good stuff. So, it’s non-GMO, no artificial flavors, no artificial sweeteners, no corn, no rice, no nothing like that. And that’s what we set out to do. And it took probably seven months of, like, playing and back and forth and tasting and then, you know, people don’t realize when you make a bar you can have the best ingredients in the world, the best nutritional facts, and maybe even you get the flavor profile, but then there’s the texture. And maybe you have too many of one thing and it’s way too chewy and sticky or it’s too crumbly, or it’s too wet, or it’s too dry. So, nailing all those, the flavor and the texture and the nutritional profile, and then the actual ingredients, it’s a lot easier said than done. And it drives me a little crazy when, you know, we put all this effort into the bar and someone on Facebook will be like, “Oh, why don’t you…how come you didn’t just make it with blah, blah, blah?” I’m like, “You have no idea how hard it is to make a bar like this.” I wish I could just say, “Oh, yeah, we’ll just add that. Cool. No problem.”

So, it took a while. But that was the idea, just something convenient. My wife calls it grab and go. And as a really, really nice side benefit, which I didn’t know originally, my kids and kids in general love it. All my kids have the bars every day. My daughter who’s on the tennis team in high school, her tennis team they always have the bars. My little three-year-old nephew, Luke, loves the bars everyday. Rewind bar. So, it’s pretty cool to see families now enjoying it and having something that’s good. And because we have nine grams of fiber, they fill you up. So, I have the bar in the morning and that’s it. I’m good. I have the bar in the morning. I work out a couple of hours later, and then I have lunch. So, it holds me over for a few hours.

I did try like you…I know you do…if you eat in that six to eight-hour window, a lot of people call intermittent fasting. I tried that. I couldn’t do it. All I did was think about food. I was nasty, Katie. I was not a good person. So, for me, the bar worked for me. It took the edge off and it gave me a little bit of fuel for those first few hours in the morning.

Katie: Yeah. I think fasting is very much an individualized thing. And like I said, it works for some people. I’m definitely not recommending it for everyone. And certainly, a lot of women actually should not intermittent fast if there’s any kind of hormone issue and so it’s not something I would recommend everyone do. I think it just speaks to, we all have to find kind of our thing that works. And I know in your case from what I remember of your story, you lost a pretty substantial amount of weight and you have now reversed your autoimmune disease. That had to be an amazing journey. What do you do? What is your routine and your day look like now both nutritionally, exercise and just lifestyle to maintain that?

Ryan: Yeah. And it was a really, really nice byproduct because just by doing this, I automatically ate less calories because the bar is about 160 calories. So, rather than having crappy food or a doughnut or whatever, just that alone was saving me calories and losing all the weight. Yeah. So, I’m down the 40 something pounds. I’m the exact same weight and pant size I was in high school, which is still mind-blowing considering I’m gonna be 48. So, I’ve never felt so good and my symptoms are gone and I never needed to get on the drugs. So, in terms of my routine. So, nutritionally, my routine is pretty much always the same just like you, very structured, bar in the morning, lunch is usually some kind of salad with a protein, usually sardines. And often I’ll have a bar in between lunch and dinner too because I eat lunch really early. I’ll have lunch at, like, 11:00, 11:30 in the morning because I’m up so early, and then we’ll eat dinner as a family at like 5:00, 5:30. So, I’ll usually have another bar around 3:00, 2:30. And dinner, it’s just different things. Whatever my wife makes, we bring in, and… There’s oftentimes, because I love it so much, I’ll have another salad with a different protein. And I’m not… I guess I’m probably more pescetarian-ish, but I don’t subscribe to any specific diet. I just tend not to eat a lot of meat, especially red meat. It just doesn’t make me feel good, but for some people, they love it and they eat all red meat. Again, I don’t judge. So, that’s nutritionally and it’s that 80/20 rule, 80% really, really good, clean, healthy veggies and greens and 20% go crazy.

Exercise wise, this was interesting because I was a trainer and even my master’s degree is exercise physiology, I always believed exercise and fitness was 90% of your results. And that’s what we were told as a trainer. Ninety percent is fitness and exercise and you got to know your progressions and your upper body, lower body, your splits, your… And I was obsessed with that. And then I started getting older, I’m like, “You know what? Let me just feel good. And what can I do that more importantly than the workout, what am I gonna do consistently that I enjoy and I know is not gonna take up a lot of time?” That’s the thing with me. It’s gotta be efficient. It’s gotta be simple. Like you, you said with your lunch, you eat pretty much the same thing every day so you know what to do, it’s one less decision you have to make. My workouts are almost identical every single day, but I add a little bit of progression. So, I’ll take you through it. You ready for it, Katie? You’re ready for the workout?

Katie: Let’s go.

Ryan: Here we go. It’s in my bedroom. I have a treadmill and a couple little free weights and kettlebells there and a pull-up bar over the door. So, I go on the treadmill, I go at the highest incline. Our treadmill I think is about 10%. And I walk at about 4.1 miles an hour, so it’s like a fast walk. And I’ll do that for about two and a half minutes. So, it’s 200 meters on the thing. I ran track, so I always think in terms of meters. So, the equivalent is two, two and a half minutes, so it’s about half a lap on a track. I jump off. Obviously, stop the treadmill first. I’m not a lunatic. Stop the treadmill, jump off, and I’ll usually do like pull-ups, like 8 to 10 pull-ups, 15 to 20 push-ups and 15 to 20 abdominal core exercises. Then I go back on the treadmill, I do another two, two and a half minutes, stop the treadmill, get off and do another exercise, sometimes like kettlebell swings. And that’s it. So, each of those little two minutes, so the two minutes on the treadmill, and then the strength exercise, that’s one, like, little mini circuit and I do eight of those. So, with the exercise and the treadmill, it takes maybe 20, 25 minutes tops, and I’m done. And I’ve got some good cardiovascular benefit, I’ve got the strength in, which I think is really important. Cardio is great, but especially as we start getting older, we need strength exercise. It doesn’t have to be hardcore weights, but we need at least resistance training, could be bodyweight training, old school push-ups and bodyweight squats. That stuff still works. And it’s all done at my house. I don’t have to go to the gym. I don’t have to spend time driving back and forth and showering there. And it’s easy. I just did the workout right before we started this call.

So, that’s my nutrition. That’s my fitness. I do that five to six times a week. Pretty much the same workout except I might switch up the strength exercise and maybe I’ll have one day it’s all kettlebell swings or something else in there instead. And just simplifying. I’ll tell you that the biggest thing I did when I was going through this, I knew that autoimmune is definitely worsened with stress. And I was traveling a lot. I was speaking at all these marketing events and selling and doing all this stuff, just wasn’t making me feel good. And I was missing stuff in my kid’s life. And about six years ago, one of the biggest decisions I made was…well, actually, this was eight years ago now that we’re looking back. For six years, I’m not traveling at all. I said no to every single speaking gig, every one. And I turned away hundreds and hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe a million over the course of those years by not speaking. But I just wanted to focus on my wife, my kids, my family, and I made them the center of my universe and I said, “I’m gonna build everything. I’m gonna build my business, my life, everything around my family.”

So, every decision is run through that filter of, “Is this bringing me closer to my goals of spending more time with them and building a business of soul or is this taking me further apart?” And if it was taking me further away from it, I said no. And just that simplification, it made my relationship with my wife stronger with my kids. I don’t miss any…I don’t miss a play or a sporting event and I still coach all their sports. I’m done with my day by 3:30, 4:00. So, I carpool all night, which isn’t always the best, but I get to spend time with them. I’ve coached every sport from football, to baseball, to soccer, to lacrosse. You name it, I’ve coached it. And it just… And I’m…look, I know I’m blessed to be able to do it. I don’t have a typical 9:00 to 5:00 job, but the simplifying of the nutrition, the simplifying of my workouts and the simplifying of just my life, it just changed everything and I just feel so much happier and more content with the way things have gone and I feel better.

Katie: And I love that you brought that up about exercise because I think that’s also a source of guilt for a lot of people is the idea that we should be doing more harder exercise. And you’re right, especially with certain conditions like autoimmune disease, very often we need to give the body a break and rest becomes more important or at least restorative, regenerative movement, not just high intensity as hard as possible which is…or like extended cardio which is what society kind of, at least a lot of times, presents as the option. And I know in my own journey, I’ve now lost over 60 pounds as well in the last couple of years. And I didn’t exercise at all during the really intense part of that weight loss because I’m a data nerd and a math person and in general, if you’re doing hard workouts, you’re going to make yourself more hungry. And if you’re trying to heal, you need to let those calories and that energy go to healing. And I’m not saying not move, but I didn’t focus at all on exercise during that time and I found the things that were the most important like that rest and the calm and being with the family, the things that really do help you rebuild. And I think that point can’t be stated enough is, you know, it’s easy to try to focus on all of these silver bullets and exercising more, “I need to take more supplements,” or whatever it is, but you’ve got to find those core things, and sometimes that means doing less, not doing more.

Ryan: Hundred percent. I can’t agree with you more on that one. And believe me, I was drinking the Kool-Aid 25 years ago. I was all about the high intensity. Actually, I taught high-intensity exercise classes, then I remember when CrossFit came out and everyone’s thinking like, “You got to work harder and play hard, work hard.” And they’re showning, you know, 60-year-olds flipping tires. And I was totally into that stuff, but I’m like, “You know what? It’s not necessarily best for everyone.” You should… And I tried. And again, I’m not putting down CrossFit. There are people that love it. If it works for you, great. I tried it at two different places. I’m like… I try everything. And both times I ended up getting hurt. And it didn’t make me feel good. It actually broke my body down too much and I was not getting enough rest. Sleep is just as important as the exercise. And you know, where I used to believe it was 80% exercise or 90% exercise, 10%, 20% nutrition, it’s flipped. If you’re eating well and filling yourself with the good stuff and getting the rest and recovery, great.

And I’m all about now, like, the lower impact stuff. Again, I was in…so, I ran track competitively all through college and I was a sprinter, so as hard and as fast as you can. But now I enjoy the walking part. I like that part. And another thing I do is I try every day to just walk 20 minutes outside, usually with my wife. If she’s not around, just by myself just thinking and just taking that time. That’s almost like my spiritual meditative time, just getting out. There’s about 60 acres of nature preserve in our backyard, so I just walk the trails and it’s like one of the greatest things that we can do. And it’s more important to find stuff that you like and it makes you feel good verse it’s the hottest trend or get this, you know, stupid ab wheel thing and all your fat’s gonna melt off, which is the most ridiculous thing in the world because it doesn’t work like that. The weight loss and the abs it’s made in the kitchen, not in the gym. So, I’m glad you’re bringing that stuff up, Katie, and showing people and showing them it doesn’t have to be high crazy intensity exercise.

Katie: Yeah. It’s amazing to me how many…how much our stories overlap and I love that you’re spreading this message and giving people a practical, repeatable habit that they can implement to help get there faster.

This episode is sponsored by Joovv, a natural red light therapy in your very own home. We many not think of light when we think of essential nutrients that our body needs, but it absolutely is! This is the reason I go outside as soon as possible after waking up each morning and the reason I spend time in front of Joovv. Light is energy and our bodies need light in certain forms to sustain healthy cellular function. Red light in particular, especially in certain wavelengths, has certain benefits for hair, skin, and cellular energy. I like Joovv because they are third-party tested for safety and performance and use a Patented modular design which allows you easily treat your whole body in under 20 mins. Joovv uses clinically proven wavelengths of light that provide energy to the body and help with things like skin elasticity or to help avoid wrinkles. You can get bundle pricing discounts which allow you to save more money when purchasing larger setups. Check it out at joovv.com/wellnessmama and use code WELLNESSMAMA for a free gift.

A few questions I’d love to ask toward the end of interviews and I look forward to hearing your answer is, what are some things that are less known or not well understood about your area of expertise that you like to talk about?

Ryan: Well, we definitely covered a few of them today. I think number one is that ’80s rule. I think a lot of people are all about strict diets and what you can and can never eat again. So, I think giving yourself that flexibility is definitely my nutritional philosophy. And the workout stuff too. I mean, that’s the second thing. It’s the more about the consistent, repeatable, lower impact, but also getting bang for your buck and adding in strength exercise.

And I’ll give you a third thing. With Rewind, we definitely have fun with some of the retro ’70s, ’80s, ’90s pop culture. And I love it. It’s fun. But there actually have been scientific studies showing the mental, the psychological, physiological benefits of nostalgia. And I’m not talking about sitting around and thinking about when you were a kid and just crying and getting depressed and living in the past. I’m not talking about that at all. But it does feel good to kind of go back a little bit and watch a movie from your childhood or listen to an album. You should see. If you saw my space here it’s filled with hundreds and hundreds of records, cassette tapes, VHS tapes, arcade machines, movie posters here. I’m looking at “Back to the Future” and “The Goonies” and “Breakfast Club” and “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” stuff from my youth. And it does feel good. It really does. And obviously, whatever decade you guys were born in, if you were more ’60s or ’70s or ’90s person, but just going back and having a little bit that nostalgia is good for you. And I’m trying to spread that too. Just go back and feel good. Live in the present, but it’s good for you to go back a little bit sometimes.

Katie: I agree. And that’s one thing we’ve been doing lately to pass the time is we have a playlist my kids have made for cleaning or just for, like, dance parties around the house and it’s a lot of ’80s music and it’s fun and it does take you back.

And I love having those kind of touchpoints. I think that’s awesome. Also, I know we’ve mentioned the bars multiple times and, of course, there’ll be a link in the show notes at wellnessmama.fm. But also for any of you listening, the website is rewindbars.com if I make sure I got that right, Ryan. And then there is a discount code MAMA, M-A-M-A. That’s for 30% off, which is awesome. That’s a huge discount. So I just wanna make sure we said that out loud. And, of course, it’ll also be in the show notes as well. What kind of flavors do you guys have?

Ryan: Right now with the bars… Well, when people are listening to this, we’re gonna have a new flavor come out. We have a new mint brownie coming out, which is…and that was, by the way, my 14-year-old daughter came up with that one because she’s obsessed with mint and I’m like, “All right, let’s try it,” and it’s incredible. So, we have mint brownie. We have cinnamon coffee cake, which is my personal favorite. We have chocolate coconut. And then we have almond butter and jelly. And they’re all gluten-free, vegan, no artificial flavors, no GMOs, no inflammatory ingredients, not added sugar. So, those are the flavors. And then we have new green drinks that just came out. We have orange, we have berry, and we have pineapple. And they are, by far, the best-tasting green drinks ever created. I could say that because I’ve tried every green drink and every one of our customers say the exact same thing. So, they’re the best tasting anti-inflammatory green drinks in the world. I don’t talk about them as much because they’re brand new, but I’m really excited about those. And we’re creating lots of new smoothie flavors and fun stuff with that.

Katie: Awesome. And of course, those will be linked in the show notes, you guys can find them. Just head over to rewindbars.com. And then another question I love to wrap up with is, is there a book or a number of books that have had a really dramatic impact on your life? And if so, what are they and why?

Ryan: I think the initial book that changed the way I thought about things and really got me kind of into the personal development world, read a long time ago, it was “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” by Stephen Covey. I read that in, I think, like, early ’90s and mid-’90s and it was just life-changing. I was like, “This is…” It was amazing to see and to start learning about personal development from this thing that I never even realized. I remember my dad had tapes when I was younger and he had tapes by like Denis Waitley and I listened to those. I thought those were kind of cool and interesting, but “The 7 Habits” was the one where I was old enough to really get it and understand and got me into this whole different mindset of priorities and that he had the whole chart and all this kind of stuff. And I just thought that was really cool. That was definitely, like, a life-changing impactful book. I haven’t read it in a long time. I should reread it because that was the one I remember as kind of started me off on this journey.

Katie: Awesome. Well, Ryan, this has been such a fun conversation as it always is when talking to you. And I really appreciate you being here and sharing your story today.

Ryan: Well, I appreciate you having me on. And you’re right, we’re so similar. I think I’m gonna start a new site called Wellness Daddy because I am ready to rock this. No. But I appreciate you and I always love talking to you and to Seth and so I am always here to help anytime, any way you need me, Katie. Thanks for having me.

Katie: Oh, thank you for the time. And thanks to all of you as always for listening and for sharing one of your most valuable assets, your time, with both of us today. We’re so grateful that you did and I hope that you will join me again on the next episode of the “Wellness Mama” podcast.

If you’re enjoying these interviews, would you please take two minutes to leave a rating or review on iTunes for me? Doing this helps more people to find the podcast, which means even more moms and families could benefit from the information. I really appreciate your time, and thanks as always for listening.

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/podcast/ryan-lee/

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inkyardpress · 7 years ago

Text

SPETH: 9¢

We had just started over the bridge, toward my party, when the famously cheerful “Don’t Jump” Ad clicked on. This had never happened to me before. The billboard’s advertising systems scanned me—analyzing my age, my style, even my pulse—and calculated I was in need of a friendly reminder not to kill myself. Colorful, hopping bunnies sang at my feet, on a waist-high screen that arced the full length of the bridge wall. Traffic roared along eighty feet below. Above, the city dome was lit a diffuse, fading gray by the evening sky beyond.

I felt a little queasy. Jumpers had been growing increasingly common, but I’m sure a higher railing would have been more effective than a glib cartoon. I wasn’t planning to kill myself. I had other things to concentrate on.

Mrs. Harris, my guardian, was still talking.

“You will get used to budgeting, Speth,” she chirped, but faltered slightly at my name, as if it wasn’t good enough for her mouth. My name was cheap and ugly. Speth. I hated it. It sounded like someone spitting. My parents chose it from a list of discounted girls’ names. When my brother was born, they vowed not to repeat that mistake and paid for a good premium name: Sam.

I wished Sam was nearby to distract me. Sam always made me laugh. But Mrs. Harris had shooed him off to help set up my party in the park, so she would have my complete attention.

Mrs. Harris was a little bird of a woman with restless hands and a tense, wrinkled little smile. She’d been lecturing me for the better part of an hour on what to expect on my big day.

I stopped walking and looked down at the shiny new Cuff she had clamped around my forearm that morning. It was a marvel of engineering—a cool processor, a rock-steady tether to WiFi and a smooth glossy surface impervious to scratches, dirt and smudges. It was rimmed in a burnished lightweight Altenium™ composite. The Cuff was nearly indestructible, unless the NanoLion™ battery went haywire and melted your Cuff and your arm off. The Cuff’s main purpose was to record everything I said and did, so I could pay the Rights Holders their fees.

“It’s beautiful,” my sister assured me. She patted my shoulder. The words she spoke scrolled up her Cuff as she was charged for each.

Saretha Jime—word: It’s: $1.99.

Saretha Jime—word: Beautiful: $8.99.

Then she was charged for patting me.

Saretha Jime—gesture: pat to shoulder—2 seconds: $1.98

Every word is Trademarked™, Restricted® or Copyrighted©. The companies and people who own these rights let people use them, but once you turn fifteen, you have to pay. Saretha had turned fifteen more than two years before. I was wearing the same bright orange dress she had, but not nearly as well. Everything else I owned was dull, gray and from a limited selection of public domain clothes Mrs. Harris allowed us to have printed at the UnderGap™.

At 6:36 p.m., it would be my turn; I would pay for every word I spoke for the rest of my life. Foolishly, I had believed it would be fun.

My Cuff felt tight. I tried to fit a finger between it and my flesh. There was no gap.

“In the unlikely event it needs to be removed,” Mrs. Harris said, “the proper authorities can do so. However, if your Cuff is removed for any reason, you will not be allowed to speak. Any utterance will result in a painful shock to the eyes.”

I closed my eyes. My lids slid down just a bit more slowly than before. As part of my transition, in addition to the Cuff, Mrs. Harris had roughly thumbed a corneal implant into each of my eyes. The implants were, at that moment, slowly fusing to my corneas. She said I would have terrible eyesight without them.

I’m almost certain this was a lie.

“You’ve read the Terms of Service?” she asked, but she knew I hadn’t. No one read the ToS. They were boring—hundreds of pages of intimidating, brain-melting Legalese. What did it matter? I had to agree. We couldn’t change them, and while technically I could “opt out,” I was required by Law to have the implants before I turned fifteen.

“Optic shocks may cause nausea,” Mrs. Harris said flatly, “dizziness, redness of the eyes, swelling, headaches, shortness of breath, seizures, confusion, heart palpitations, vision changes and, of course, blindness.”

“Rarely,” Saretha assured me. Her Cuff buzzed and charged her $1.75. I missed when we used to really talk. She was always so positive and joyful. I supposed she still was, inside, but I mostly talked with Sam after her transition. We didn’t have the kind of money that would let us talk freely once we were paying for our words.

“Traditionally, one arrives at one’s celebration at exactly the moment one turns fifteen.” Mrs. Harris’s thin smile pulled tight. I think she had timed our walk out to the park. Slowing down was not part of that plan.

I wished I didn’t have to have a Custodian. I wished my parents could have been here, but when I was little, our family was sued for an illegal music download traced back five generations to a great-great-aunt somewhere. We owed the Musical Rights Association of America® more than six million dollars in damages. Debt Services took our parents and placed them somewhere down in Carolina, pollinating crops with an eyedropper and brush until our debts were paid. My heart ached thinking of them so far away.

Mrs. Harris noted my sadness and moved on.

On the far side of the bridge, my celebration was crowded onto a small, manicured strip of green called Falxo Park. It sat at the very edge of the city, in the heart of the Onzième, where the dome curves down to the city wall. All the faux-Parisian-style shops crowded around the park, stretching off into the distance in a plastic approximation of Franco quaintness.

The outer shopping district and the park it flanked were beautiful if I squinted at it, awash and aglow in Moon Mints™ Ads. There was scarcely a surface in the city that couldn’t throw up an Ad. I liked the colors—sometimes. I just wished there was less going on all at once. It made my head feel fuzzy to try to take it all in—though Mrs. Harris said I had to try.

I could hear the party from across the bridge. All the younger kids were laughing and singing. I’ll bet there was dancing, too. The kids over fifteen would only join in after my speech, when the real celebration began.

I had really been looking forward to the party—seeing all my friends, what the Product Placers had brought and what my Branding would be. I was finally going to be a contributing member of society. Mrs. Harris said so. But suddenly, I didn’t want to cross the bridge. I didn’t want a party. I didn’t want a Brand. I didn’t care if I got lifelong discounts on Keene Inc. candies in return for unwavering loyalty to their family of products, or a small monthly allowance to speak encouragingly about Pamvax® Feminine Vaccines™. Now that I could really feel the change about to take place, I wanted to run. Why was this something to celebrate? How would I get used to measuring the cost of my words?

I had a strange urge to do or say something meaningful before the clock ticked over, but such behavior was frowned upon. I was supposed to wait until the moment after I turned. Then I would read the speech I had crafted with Mrs. Harris. I was contractually obligated to read it, from start to finish, as my first paid words.

The speech was in my hand, printed by Mrs. Harris on a thick sheet of real paper. My sponsors had approved it and subsidized my costs in return for peppering the speech with positive statements about their products. Keene Inc. even offered to have it framed afterward, so I could remember my Last Day, but I’d refused that offer; I didn’t want to be responsible for keeping a sheet of paper safe any longer than I had to.

I didn’t really care for the speech. I had thought it was funny to cram in as many endorsements as I could, giggling with my friend Nancee Mphinyane-Smil for weeks about how to work in something about Mrs. Harris’s favorite brand of industrial-strength suppositories.

I suddenly wished the speech said something more. More about me, my thoughts...my future.

“We should really get moving,” Mrs. Harris said.

I nodded, swallowing hard, and began to move. My eyes ached.

“I understand it can be difficult. Reducing your chat so precipitously, after fourteen years of free speech.” Mrs. Harris let the word precipitously slip out between her teeth with delight. The government paid for her words, and she relished them. There was a reason a woman like Mrs. Harris became a Custodian and took on guardianship of so many children.

It wasn’t compassion.

“Undoubtedly you have been speaking more than normal lately,” Mrs. Harris said, waving at me to hurry.

I hated that she was right. I had been talking more. I had also been dancing and singing and practicing gymnastics. That was all finished. Every dance move, every gymnastic flourish and every note of every song was Trademarked and priced outside what my family could afford. None of this was Mrs. Harris’s fault, but I still wanted to blame her. I had always disliked her. I glared at her horrible, insincere face.

“What?” she asked, taken aback. I took a deep breath.

“Is it normal to be able to see through people’s clothes?” I asked, squinting through my new corneal overlays.

Mrs. Harris flinched and moved to cover herself, until I snorted out a laugh.

“Sorry,” Saretha said for me. Sorry was a fixed-price word at $10, and a legal admission of guilt. She should have let me say it. I still had a minute left. I just wanted to have a little fun.

Mrs. Harris shook her head, tapping at her own Cuff a few times until a micro-suit showed up. The first thing to appear on my Cuff’s screen was $30 worth of Mrs. Harris’s “pain and suffering.” She sued us all the time like this for petty grievances. Saretha just tapped PAY.

“I have helped thousands of boys and girls transition, and trust me, you aren’t any different,” Mrs. Harris sniffed.

The clock was ticking down. In a few seconds, I would officially turn fifteen. I wanted to think of something meaningful to say, but what? My heart was pounding. My tongue felt like a solid lump in my mouth. Mrs. Harris sighed.

“It is very easy to slip up and speak, or shrug or scream, before you read your speech. This would void your contract, which would be disastrous. I must remind you of your obligation to read it first.” She lifted the hand that held the speech and shook it around, like I was a puppet. “These need to be your first paid words, Speth.”

I pulled away from her. I knew what my responsibilities were.

Mrs. Harris watched the time tick over on her Cuff. “You are an adult now,” she said, her eyes fixed on the podium in a way that highlighted the fact that we had not yet reached it.

The bunnies sang more loudly at the apex of the bridge. “Don’t jump, puh-leeze.”

Saretha beamed at me. Smiling was still free. How bad could things be if she seemed so happy? Her smile was wide and bright and friendly. It made you feel warm. She looked like she belonged in movies. A step behind us, her Ads sang a different tune across the glossy LCDs.

Saretha’s Ads were full of romance, perfume, alcohol and shoes. She didn’t come close to a jumper’s algorithm: she was too pretty, too graceful and too well-dressed. When she chose her Branding, Saretha got to choose between twenty-three different corporate brands. I would be lucky to pick from three. Saretha was a Facer, which meant that when she drank a soda in public or ate some chips, she was expected to face the product label out so people could see it. The systems almost treated her like an Affluent, although they never digitized her into the Ads. Truly wealthy people often had their likeness scanned, recreated and enhanced to look a little more beautiful and happy in a commercial.

Mrs. Harris thought Saretha’s looks were our family’s best chance at a better life. She didn’t just look like a movie star—she looked a lot like a particular star named Carol Amanda Harving. Carol Amanda Harving’s smile was more perfect and white, but somehow Saretha’s was more comforting and real. As Mrs. Harris liked to point out, my sister and the actress looked more alike than Saretha and I did. My heart sunk every time she declared it, usually in a tone she reserved for crueler moments.

Saretha and I looked enough like sisters, but whatever people might have said about her, they said less enthusiastically about me. Saretha was beautiful with an almost golden complexion. With work, I could be pretty, but my skin never shone the way Saretha’s did. Saretha had dark, welcoming eyes, the color of chocolate. Mine were just dark and sharp. Saretha had long, amazing, black wavy hair that rode over her shoulders like a shampoo Ad. I kept mine short, fashioned in a pixie cut Mrs. Micharnd, my gymnastics teacher, found for me in the public domain. When she was my age, Saretha already had curves, and now she had more. I had next to none. I was small, sinewy and perfect for gymnastics.

Saretha went on dates with gorgeous boys who paid for her words and expected affection in return. I went walking with Beecher Stokes, a skinny boy with messy hair who lived with his grandmother. He wasn’t terribly cute, but he made me laugh—or at least he did, until his fifteenth birthday. Then his mood soured. His jokes vanished. He would just stare at me, wordless. To fill the awkward silences, I let him kiss me—as much as he could afford. He could not afford much.

I find it creepy that the system can tell how long or hard a kiss is. I don’t know exactly what the system monitors, but Beecher would pay something like 17¢ for each second. That’s supposed to feel normal. It’s been like this longer than I’ve been alive, but something still felt wrong about it.

Mrs. Harris didn’t think it was appropriate for me to be with him, given what she called his “circumstances.”

When Beecher was ten, his father tried circumventing the programming of a food printer. He wanted to make more nutritious meals. It was in blatant violation of Copyright, Patent and Terms of Service—the Three Major Fields of Intellectual Property. Mr. Stokes disconnected from the network, but he was caught anyway. Debt Services took Beecher’s parents into Collection immediately. They would have taken Beecher, too, but Collection must let you finish school.

Beecher could have had another two years, but he dropped out of school a few weeks after his fifteenth. I couldn’t believe it. I asked him why. He shrugged like it was no big deal—50¢ to act casual. I kind of loved that he did that, even though it seemed so foolish.

“Beecher...” Mrs. Harris said, shaking her head. It was like she knew I was thinking about him. She really didn’t like him, which was part of the reason I kept seeing him.

Mrs. Harris hadn’t read my mind, however. Beecher was at the foot of the bridge opposite us, waiting, like he wanted to catch me before the party. My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t love or a crush. The way he looked at that moment worried me.

Bunnies surrounded him, too, but in darker colors like green and midnight blue, because these were supposed to be “boy” colors. His eyes were red. Had he been crying?

“Don’t jump, don’t jump,” the bunnies sang cheerfully to us both as Beecher drew up.

“Speth,” Beecher said. His face winced. Mrs. Harris grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

He closed the space between us, quick, and kissed me. I felt a sharp jolt. This wasn’t like his other kisses. My lips stung. My body tingled. I realized, with horror, that his eyes were being shocked for kissing with insufficient credit.

“Beecher Stokes!” Mrs. Harris warned.

My pastel bunnies and his dark ones mingled in the Ad, harmonizing, “Don’t jump, pleeeeezeey weeezeey.”

My cheek twitched. I put a hand there to feel the spasm. Warmth spread through my face. Somehow, my Cuff’s software knew I hadn’t kissed back. It really unnerved me to realize my Cuff had such weird access to my lips and intentions. How did it know? Suddenly this whole system seemed too, too real.

Beecher abruptly stalked off, head down, hands jammed in the pockets of his dumpy brown public domain longcoat. Black, gray and blood-red bunnies, glowing from the Ads at his feet, kept singing that he shouldn’t jump. But Beecher didn’t take advice from bunnies. That had been one of his jokes, back before he turned fifteen. I’d always thought it was really funny—until he mounted the rail and took a great leap into the traffic eighty feet below.

The bunnies stopped singing.

TWO SECONDS OF SCREAMING: $1.98

Once, I loved to talk. What did I say with all those words? It seems like nothing now. I honestly can’t remember much: a conversation with Nancee about how birds make it into the city, an argument with Sera Croate about my hair (she said I looked like a boy with it short, but the style was free), a discussion with Beecher about how I liked the feeling of certain words in my mouth.

Luscious, Effervescent, Surreptitious, Cruft. I wasn’t thinking about expressing myself. Beecher had warned me: “Expressive words cost more.” He’d said it as if I should already be careful. He looked down at his Cuff’s thin amber glow.

Beecher Stokes—sentence: Expressive words cost more: $31.96.

His face was all gloomy. He could have spent that money on kissing, or saying something nice. He could have told me how he felt—he could have asked me anything, or at least warned me about how it really felt to pay for every word. Maybe that’s what he was trying to do. That was our last conversation.

I raced to where he had jumped, then stopped myself short. I couldn’t look down. I shut my eyes tight. The leaden thump, screeching tires and clatter of twisted metal had spared me nothing. I reeled back and doubled over. What did he just do?

A shattering wail filled the air anyway—Beecher’s name as a question. My eyes stung with tears, burning the fresh overlays in my eyes. It took me a second to realize I wasn’t the one screaming. It was Saretha.

I let nothing escape, not a scream, not a gasp, not a breath of air. I had stopped breathing, like it wouldn’t be real until I drew breath.

The howling stopped. Saretha’s Cuff buzzed.

Her shriek was legally considered a primitive call for comfort, aid and/or sympathy. The charge was 99¢ per second. Mrs. Harris twisted a bony, aggrieved finger in her ear and shook her head. She picked up my left arm and looked at my Cuff in disgust, but then her sharp, disapproving face broke into a ghoulish smile.

“Speth,” she said, wide blue eyes piercing me, “there may be hope for you yet!”

There was no concern for Beecher in her. She exhibited no revulsion. She was simply pleased I had not made a sound.

I swallowed. I was breathing again. Long, panicked breaths passed in and out.

From below, an intense, white, molten light flickered. The NanoLion™ battery in Beecher’s Cuff had ruptured. And then I knew that he was truly gone.

Saretha looked at Mrs. Harris, wild-eyed. Mrs. Harris put on a look of concern and patted her shoulder three times, did the math on what it cost and calculated Saretha warranted two final pats. The government didn’t cover Mrs. Harris’s gestures. She had once quoted a statute to us about how gestures were an inexact means of communication.

“Personally, I find them coarse,” she had told us. “A poor use of funds.”

I could not look at the woman. I stared blankly up over the bridge’s rail, to the expanse where cars were slowing in the distance, backed up by the accident. Cars began to honk at the delay, a dollar per honk, even though the bright white glow of the ruptured battery told them there was nothing anyone could do.

They hated us, those wealthy people, driving the ring for pleasure. Beecher, whom I’d cared for—maybe not the way he’d wanted, and not as much as he’d cared for or needed me—he was dead, and all they felt was irritation at the inconvenience.

Around me, there were other noises. My party filled with gasps and cries, then trailed off into a timorous murmur.

Timorous, I wanted to say, but I did not speak it.

Cuffs buzzed like an insect swarm. Sam came running out of the crowd, his mouth open, his round, usually playful face squinting in confusion.

“Why?” he asked in a rasp, looking over the edge at a scene I could not bring myself to witness. How could I answer?

I pulled him back from the edge. I wanted to tell him what I knew, but it was too late. I looked at my Cuff. The clock had run out. I pinched my fingers closed and ran them across my mouth. The sign of the zippered lips was a rare gesture still in the public domain. It was meant to allow people without means a method to communicate their lowly state, so Affluents wouldn’t have to waste their time. I wasn’t really supposed to use it with people who weren’t wealthy.

Mrs. Harris winced. “This isn’t the proper circumstance.” Her tone was somewhere between compassionate and annoyed.

“What else is she supposed to do?” Sam asked, his face red with rising anger.

Mrs. Harris put a hand on Sam’s chest to settle him down. He batted it away.

“She is supposed to read her speech and have her party,” Mrs. Harris said, as if nothing else was possible.

“Mom doesn’t approve of that gesture,” Saretha said, a step behind, waving her hand vaguely in front of her lips.

Our mother felt like it was groveling. She used the word supplication, which cost $32 that day. Mom said the only reason the zippered lips gesture was free was so we could humiliate ourselves. I had never seen her do it, not even when we were broke, not even when she was supposed to. I suddenly felt like I had let her down.

I wanted to put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, but Mrs. Harris had warned me about comforting gestures. I bit the knuckle of my cuffed hand instead.

A low, strained chatter resounded from Falxo Park, first from the younger kids, then from everyone else, as they tried to work out who had jumped and why. I thought of Beecher, and I felt airless.

* * *

Mrs. Harris led me to the edge of the stage. Ads crawled blithely along the city wall behind, a blur to my wet eyes.

“The Placers did a fine job,” she said, gesturing to my product tables. Product Placers had slipped into the park and set up an array of snacks and product samples. I had truly been looking forward to seeing what they brought, but now I felt disgusted looking at it all.

Mrs. Harris took a Keene Squire-Lace™ Chip—an elegant, intricately printed, crisped potato disk with my name and the number 15 laser-etched into the center. The Placers had left bowlfuls of them.

Mrs. Harris popped the chip in her mouth. As she chewed, she pretended to be upset.

“No Huny®,” she commented, looking around with a wrinkled nose. Huny® was Saretha’s Brand. I didn’t expect they would be my Brand—usually it’s your sponsor—but it was a little unusual they hadn’t put out a few packets.

“Well,” Mrs. Harris said, “I guess you should go ahead and read your speech.” She wiped her hands clean of the chip’s Flavor Dust™.

My body shivered. I felt weak. Maybe she was right. I had my contract to think of. If I broke it, there was no telling what my sponsor might do. No one was paying attention. Maybe I could read it quick and get it over with.

Sirens wailed in the distance. A news dropter appeared out of nowhere and hovered over the highway, where Beecher and the mangled cars were splayed. Then another dropter appeared, then more. They jockeyed for position and, failing to find a good spot to film the body, they spread out to the crowd and then to me.

“She can’t make a statement,” Mrs. Harris said, shooing them away while smirking at the attention. She lifted my hand to show them. The beautiful paper of my speech was distressed—creased and wrinkled from the tension of my grip. Mrs. Harris clucked and moved my thumb. “Let them see the Keene logo,” she whispered, even though I wasn’t a Facer.

“You do know someone’s dead, right?” Sam muttered. Mrs. Harris’s face twisted into what she thought was an appropriate expression of concern.

Saretha gently pulled Sam back, and every lens turned to her.

On the highway, a dark line of cars threaded through the clot of traffic. The other vehicles parted to let the Lawyers through. They arced around us, taking the long curve up the exit to the green. News, police and cleanup crews trailed them, ready to deal with the wreckage Beecher had wrought.

A distinctive Ebony Meiboch™ Triumph snaked its way to the front. Everyone knew that car, and they all gave it a wide berth. The Law Firm of Butchers & Rog had arrived.

SILENCE: $2.99

Butchers & Rog was the city’s most prestigious firm. Silas Rog himself had drafted countless pieces of legislation for the city, and some, it was said, for the entire nation. It was hard to know how powerful he was, because one piece of his legislation barred what he designated “undesirable news and information from outside the city.” Other people said he ran the city, though Rog himself denied it.

I was nine years old when Butchers & Rog delivered a bright yellow envelope to our apartment door. My father peeled the thing open and dropped a thin, torn slip of yellow to the ground. Sam tried to keep it. He was too young then to know you need a license to keep paper. The Paralegal slid it out of his hand, then held out his Cuff for my father to plead. My parents never read the terms. There was little choice but to agree. No one could disprove an ancestral download. Fighting would only cost more money. Silas Rog never lost. My father tapped AGREE with a hard knuckle, my mother with a trembling thumb. We had seven days with my parents while they set affairs in order and packed the few possessions they were allowed. My father tried to give us what advice he could, with what words he could afford. My mother said nothing; she didn’t want the Rights Holders to make another cent.

I wanted to know what song was so important that our parents had to leave because of it, but Saretha said that was childish; we had to take responsibility for what our family had done.

Within just a few months, the same thing happened to Nancee. Her parents were plunged into debt by a similar discovery: her great-grandparents had once been in possession of a silvery, rainbow-colored disc that was said to contain twelve beautiful pieces of music sung by insects. They had smashed it to pieces long before Nancee’s parents were born, hoping to avoid trouble, but trouble found her family anyway.

There weren’t many kids at my party who hadn’t been affected by the National Inherited Debt Act, and its Historical Reparations Agency. Night and day, algorithms scoured every piece of data the Rights Holders could scrape up. Mrs. Harris was guardian to at least a half-dozen of my closest friends, Nancee included. We usually steered well clear of her, as best we could.

My Last Day celebration meant Mrs. Harris was all mine for the day. They would be spared.

Mrs. Harris took me by the shoulders with her strong little hands and made sure I was facing the glossy black Butchers & Rog Meiboch™ Triumph.

The Lawyer began to speak almost as soon as the driver had his door open. He knew he had everyone’s attention. Sam glared like he was the devil himself. The Lawyer kept talking until he reached me.

“On behalf of Butchers & Rog, and senior partner Silas Rog, Esquire, I, Attorney Derrick Finster, Esquire, advise the party hereforth provisionally referred to as the Provisionally Counseled Party, that you, Speth Jime, the Provisionally Counseled Party, may reasonably anticipate compensatory damages should you, Speth Jime, the Provisionally Counseled Party, choose to engage the services of Butchers & Rog and its Attorneys thereof against the actions of one Beecher Bartholomew Stokes, alleged Jumper.”

Finster jerked a thumb back to where the road was being cleared and smiled. My stomach turned. I knew enough Legalese to understand he was offering to sue Beecher Stokes and his family on my behalf, but the cold-blooded, litigious sound of his words made me recoil.

I didn’t see how it would work. Who was there to sue? Beecher’s grandmother? What would they do with her? She was so old, it wasn’t even worth it for Debt Services to take her.

“Silas Rog himself has taken an interest,” Finster added, polishing a legal medal with a pinky. He was tall and square-faced and wore a broad chest full of legal medals on his clean, perfectly cut charcoal-gray suit. His eyes were covered by matte sunglasses, gray and pebbled, which gave him a disturbingly eyeless appearance.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Harris groveled. It wasn’t her place to thank him, and I didn’t share her awe.

Finster stood before me politely, letting me think.

Traffic on the road began moving again. Beecher’s body had been cleared, and the road scrubbed of him. The thought of it made me sick. The speeding cars began to roar in the distance.

Finster tallied some costs on his Cuff and licked his lips. His Ebony Meiboch™ Triumph was parked askew on the sidewalk, its driver waiting expressionless for his return. Lined up behind him were other Lawyers, eyeing my guests, waiting to see what bones they might pick. Finster continued.

“Our preliminary, and by no means complete or binding, estimates suggest compensation should be sufficient to abrogate your existing family debt and thus relinquish all claims, public and private, against your assets, material and otherwise, including, but not limited to, time, labor and servitude imposed upon those members of your household in debt bondage.”

I worked out what he said, and my heart leapt with hope.

“Our parents could go free?” Saretha asked.

Finster’s face broke into an eager, gap-mouthed smile. He nodded reassuringly. “All you need to do is agree,” he said. He held out his Cuff for me to tap AGREE.

Was it really possible that my parents’ servitude could finally be over? Was a simple tap all it would take to bring them home?

Mrs. Harris blinked, and her brain tried to work out what this would mean for her.

“She hasn’t read her speech,” she said quickly. Her face was bright red. “She does have a contract.” She could not look Finster in the eyes. Finster cleared his throat and smiled, like we had passed some test. He lowered his Cuff and looked down at me.

“Butchers & Rog recognizes your preexisting obligation to read, as your first and primary paid words, the sanctioned a priori speech approved by the entities of Keene Inc. and its subsidiaries, including but not limited to those endorsements and declarations of intent to purchase products and services from your guarantor. I hereby defer communication concerning Lawsuits and damages levied against Beecher Stokes, his corpse, his family and/or his assigns until such time as the allegedly aggrieved Provisionally Counseled Party, Speth Jime, has fulfilled her preexisting obligation of allocution of said speech, and can freely affirm her intention to retain Butchers & Rog for legal representation pursuant to actions against Beecher Stokes, his corpse, his family and/or his assigns.”

“The hell you say?” Sam asked.

“He is agreeing,” Mrs. Harris explained calmly, “to allow Speth to read her speech before giving a response.” She smiled like this was a great favor.

How generous, I thought.

“How generous,” Sam said flatly. I loved Sam.

“You may read your speech,” Finster said to me, waving a magnanimous arm toward the microphone. He took a step back to give me space.

“Thank you,” Saretha mouthed to him. Her Cuff buzzed with the fee, plus a 15 percent surcharge for speaking without sound.

The crowd of partygoers watched, wide-eyed. Even the younger kids were silent. I stepped to the podium. The Ads behind my celebration muted. I lowered my head and covered my eyes. Nothing made sense. Why would Silas Rog care? If I could have our parents back, surely it meant a worse fate for someone else.

Cars roared nonstop on the road where Beecher had been. They had returned to full speed, as if nothing had happened. On the bridge, two police officers were pointing, marking the trajectory where Beecher had leapt. Between them was a small, bent woman in a rough long-sleeved public domain dress: Beecher’s grandmother. Her misery was apparent, even at a distance. What would become of her? Dropters buzzed around her like a cloud of flies, small, dark lenses flicking between Beecher’s grandmother, Finster, the traffic and me. We would surely make the news tonight.

The police pointed at me. Did they tell her he’d kissed me? She looked bereft. I suddenly felt embarrassed to be onstage. Did she think it would be wrong for me to continue?

“Read your speech,” Mrs. Harris said.

Saretha nodded. Her Cuff buzzed in the eerie quiet. Sam looked away, arms crossed, eyes blinking.

My breathing grew fast and labored, like I couldn’t get enough air. How could I read the speech? How could I accept Butchers & Rog’s terms?

How could I refuse?

Finster stood placidly by. He knew exactly how everything would play out. I didn’t have any real options. I had to read the speech. I had to tap AGREE. I had to do what everyone expected. Silas Rog would sue Beecher’s grandmother or Beecher’s mangled body, or whatever his vile plan was, and he would grow richer from it. In the bargain, I would get our parents back.

The small quaint buildings on either side of the park seemed to close me in. I saw worry on faces in the crowd. Norflo Juarze met my eyes and shouted, “Feliz Quinceañera!” $25.99 spent on Spanish words he couldn’t afford. Sera Croate smirked, her eyebrows raised. I was taking too long to speak. She wanted me to fail, of course. Your friends come to your Last Day, but so do your enemies.

I thought I might throw up, and then thought, if I did, at least something would come out of my mouth. Sam would have laughed if he heard that thought. He would have understood. I wanted to show him with my eyes that everything would be okay, but instead, I started crying.

Beecher’s grandmother was watching from the bridge, stunned and expressionless. I wish she had been angry, or sneered. I wish she had walked away. I wish she had told me it was okay. The speech in my hand had no words of comfort or mention of Beecher. It was nothing more than typical generic nonsense about consumer responsibility, Moon Mints™, Buonicon Tea™ and Keene’s Kelp Gum™ (all owned by Keene Inc.).

I held the speech up. I couldn’t say how I felt about it. I wasn’t allowed to speak other words. Suddenly, a tide of rage coursed through me. My hands seemed to burn. I crumpled the speech into a ball. I threw it as hard as I could toward the highway. It fell uselessly into the astonished crowd, not even a quarter as far as I’d imagined it would go. Gasps rose all around. Mrs. Harris actually started to cry. The news dropters raced to film it like a pack of dogs chasing a bone. They got their shot and turned back to me.

Everyone knew what came next. I would be one of those few pathetic kids you see on the news who squeak out a few words of protest before being carted off. Finster waited for it, smiling, as though he expected me to break contract. It would ruin me. It would ruin my family, and for what? Whatever I might say would change nothing. He eyed Saretha and smiled a little more.

On the bridge, Beecher’s grandmother didn’t move, or acknowledge that I had done anything. She stared blankly toward my stage, flanked by two gaping police officers.

Then, suddenly, another option blossomed in my mind. I seized it, because it was a choice—my choice—and one I’d never heard anyone suggest or seen anyone do. I put a shaking thumb and finger to the corner of my mouth and drew my hand slowly across. I made the sign of the zippered lips, and I silently vowed I would never speak again.

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sincerelyella · 3 years ago

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RAMifications Chapter 5 - Why Don’t We Fall In Love

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

Song Inspiration: Why Don’t We Fall In Love by Amerie

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me

A/N: This entire idea came from Burnsy and her unBEARable series featuring her OTP Drake and Alyssa. This is Ella’s backstory and how she met the love of her life King Liam of Cordonia and became his queen. This doesn’t follow much of TRR books, there is still a social season but not all of the players are present. Throw canon out the window!

Catch up here

Warnings: Adult language; NSFW -> second base maybe

Words: 2439

“Why was kissing me a mistake, Liam?”

Liam stared at her in surprise. He didn’t expect her to bring up the kiss, he hadn’t planned on bringing it up either; but it had been on his mind all week.

“I should have asked; I didn’t know how you felt …” he babbled. You’re blowing this! He audibly swallowed and tried to think about what to say next without looking like an idiot. “I’m sorry, Ella,” he whispered. “It wasn’t a mistake. Nothing with you has been a mistake. I just … this is my social season with suitors. At the time I didn’t think I could have you.” When she remained quiet he continued to nervously prattle. “Then I saw you at the beer garden on a date-“

“Wait,” she interrupted with her hand up. “You saw me?”

Liam nodded. “Yes, Drake and Alyssa and I were driving by, and I saw you get in the car with … someone,” he clenched his jaw. Ella smirked when she saw it and raised a brow at him.

She took a step forward. “Why, Your Highness, were you jealous?”

“No!” He said a little too quickly. He looked away for a second then back down at her and she tried so hard not to smile, but the edges of her mouth were curving up.

She took another step forward. “It wasn’t a date, Liam,” she said softly. “It was a way for me to get my mind off of a certain prince.”

She was so close to him, but their bodies weren’t touching. He could feel the warmth of her through the clothes in between them; the smell of her lavender perfume made him dizzy and rock hard at the same time. There she was, looking up at him with her mouth slightly parted, sending him a message; her eyes darker then they usually were, almost black. His gaze dropped down and landed on her mouth, they were drawing him in, closer and closer. Kiss her! Kiss her now! He quickly dropped his lips down onto hers, not gentle or shy like before, but passionate, like he was drinking from her. Like he was dying and needed her, all of her, to live. He wrapped his arms around her small waist, tugged her tightly against his chest and he felt her arms come around his neck. She softly moaned against his mouth and he took that opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Their tongues massaged each others, their hands were everywhere, soft groans filled the room. Liam ran his hands down to squeeze her ass, then reached the back of Ella’s thighs and lifted her easily off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pressed her up against the closest wall. He ravaged her mouth and pressed himself against her throbbing core. She pulled away with a small moan as Liam kneaded one of her breasts outside her sweater. He rested his forehead against hers as they fought to catch their breath.

“Oh … my God,” she panted. Her head was swimming, she had never been kissed like that before. Ever.

Liam watched her with a smirk on his face. He leaned in to capture her lips again, slow and gentle. “I meant to kiss you like that,” he chuckled.

Ella smiled wide. “Uh-huh. Well, I didn’t mind this though … not at all.”

“Neither did I.” He flashed a grin at her and her legs got weak.

He placed one last kiss on her swollen lips before putting her carefully back on her feet and cleared his throat. “I, uh, really did invite you to stay so I could answer your questions. I know all of this is rather foreign to you.”

What were we talking about? “Umm …” she looked up at him with a confused look on her face.

“The social season, Ella,” he laughed loudly. “Come on, I can order us some dinner and we can talk?”

She nodded, just now realizing she hadn’t eaten at all since breakfast and her stomach was growling. Liam stepped away to order some food while she took in the living area and kitchen. Everything was modern, stainless steel appliances, a large kitchen island, marble countertops, a comfortable looking sectional that face a 75 inch flat screen TV. The entire area was simplistic but very masculine at the same time.

“Food should be here in a little bit, come sit with me.�� He led her to the sectional, faced her and took her hands in his. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable about being a suitor. I want to be honest with you about everything.” Ella’s brows wrinkled in question and Liam continued. “The social season is a way for single women from all the noble houses in the kingdom to, essentially, compete to be queen. My queen.” He sighed. “In all honesty, it’s basically me … dating these women … at the same time.”

Liam held his breath. He studied Ella’s facial expression then held eye contact, silently pleading for her to say something. Anything.

She stared back at him, trying to gather her thoughts. I left Ethan because he dated multiple women. “So, you’ll be doing what we did in here … with those other women?”

He shook his head fiercely. “No! No, Ella!” He placed his hands on both sides of her neck and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Court dating is very different from normal dating. Everything is done in front of the court, we talk and dance and there may be kisses on the cheek or hands but I won’t be doing anything like that with any of them.”

Ella nodded. Liam leaned over to kiss her softly and a knock on the door caused them to jump, then giggle. “It’s just dinner.” He rose from the couch to answer the door and rolled in a cart of covered plates a few moments later.

As they dug into their food, Liam continued speaking about the social season. “Our next event is in Applewood, the Apple Festival. I must warn you,” he stopped cutting the meat on his plate and looked at Ella. “My father has already told me that I need to … spend time with all of the ladies the last few weeks of the season.” He frowned and started to cut the meat again. “Originally, I was making small talk with them but not fully engaging. My father took notice and … I can’t show any favoritism while out in public, Ella.”

Ella continued to eat, looking down at her plate, thinking about Liam’s words. I don’t belong here.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said quietly.

She put her fork down. “I’m thinking that maybe I don’t belong here, Liam. I’m in school … I am a semester away from getting my degree. I was … planning on working at the children’s hospital.” She sighed. “Do I just give that up? For something I’m not even sure about? What if the court hates me? What if you don’t … choose me after the season-“

“Ella.” He said sternly, interrupting her nervous chattering. She flinched at his tone and looked him in the eye. “I don’t plan on choosing anyone but you,” his voice softened. “The only time I wouldn’t choose you … is if you tell me this isn’t what you want. The crown is a heavy, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone if they weren’t willing.”

Say no thank you, Ella. “I want this,” she blurted out. If she was honest with herself, she never felt anything like what she felt for Liam.

“What did you say?” He heard her, but he wanted to hear her say it again.

“I want this,” she said, louder and with more confidence. “I want this, and I want you. I just … want to figure out a way to also finish my degree.”

Liam smiled and kissed her soundly on mouth. “I want this, and I want you too,” and started placing chaste kisses on her lips over and over until she laughed. “We will figure out something for your school. For the season, however, you may need to drop this semester. Start again in January.”

She nodded. “Alright, I can do that. Now, my sponsors … what are they for?”

“The Beaumont’s have no single women to send as a representative of their house for the social season. So, they find a woman suitable and sponsor her so that she can represent their house.”

They talked through the night, he answered her questions and they had made plans to meet with Maxwell and Bertrand the next day. He taught her how to address nobles with their title and how to curtsy when appropriate. Liam had one of the guards drive her home so she could pack her things and come back to stay at the palace.

*****

The next day

Ella smiled and her thoughts went back to last night. She absentmindedly put her fingers on her lips. This was the last thing she expected when she flew to a country nobody had heard of. Falling for a prince and possibly ending up marrying him - it all sounded a little crazy. She woke up this morning thinking it was all a dream. But a text from Liam that said ‘good morning beautiful’ brought her back to reality. It’s not a dream. Holy shit I’m dating a prince!

On her way to the palace, Ella made a pit stop at the floral truck. Her boss gave her a big hug when she told him everything.

“I knew there was a reason Prince Liam was making you deliver all his flowers,” Aaron laughed loudly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ella rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m leaving with such short notice, Aaron. I have to postpone school until next semester also.”

He waved her apology dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, you just make us proud and become a damn good queen.”

“Oh God,” she placed her hand on her forehead. “I haven’t fully come to terms with that yet,” her eyes widened.

“You’ll be fine, Ella,” Aaron’s face took on a serious expression. “You took the hospital by storm, you took on this job like a boss, everyone you speak to loves you immediately,” he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Ella swallowed nervously and swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I have to head to the palace, move in and all that, so I’ll see you around.”

She gave him one last hug before getting back in the car.

Liam sat in his quarters with Maxwell and Bertrand, waiting for Ella to arrive. Max was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can’t wait to meet her! Alyssa said she was great!”

Liam smiled. “Yes, she is pretty great.”

“Yes, well … great could still embarrass House Beaumont and I won’t have it.” Bertrand said with a frown.

“Aw B, don’t be so stuffy. If Liam is taken with her and Alyssa says she’s a winner then quit worrying!” Maxwell jumped up and down in excitement. “I’m hungry! Liam do you have fruit roll-ups?”

“Fruit … roll-ups??” His brows furrowed in confusion. He never got an answer as Max had already skipped to the kitchen to rummage through the cabinets.

A knock on the door made Liam snap his head towards the sound and start to get up off the couch.

“I GOT IT!” Maxwell hollered and ran to open the door. “Sam! It’s fine! Prince Liam knows Ella is coming … no you don’t need to see the prince right now, Sam … Come on, Ella!” The door slammed and a moment later Max had tugged Ella into the living area. Bertrand and Liam stood and Maxwell grinned from ear to ear.

“Okay! So hi, I’m Maxwell! Alyssa told me soooo much about you! Want some Doritos??” He handed Ella the bag.

“I’m good, thanks,” she laughed. “Nice to meet you Max.” Ella turned to Liam and Bertrand. “Hello, Your Highness, Your Grace,” she gave them a small curtsy.

Liam smiled down at her, took her hand and kissed her knuckles softly. “Hello, Lady Ella.”

Bertrand cleared his throat. “I see you know how to curtsy and address your betters.”

Maxwell gave his brother a glare. “What Bertrand means is … he’s happy to meet you!”

Bertrand rolled his eyes. “Lady Ella, if you are to represent House Beaumont we will need to prepare you properly for the festivities in Applewood. We leave in a mere day and a half.”

There was another knock on the door. Liam cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” He opened the door and was surprised to see who was standing on the other side.

“What in the hell is going on?”

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nezzfiction · 5 years ago

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Team WISE Ch. 4 - Iris (Part Two)

Series Synopsis: Ten years have passed since Team RWBY disbanded. Remnant is in the midst of its Second Great War. And while the Kingdoms wage battle and destruction against one other, a darker, more ancient threat grows in its shadow. Only a select few are willing to set aside past differences to see the greater danger Remnant faces. Only those who possess the wisdom to seek out the truth in the dark—those who are truly wise. To that end, Weiss Schnee assembles her private group of covert operatives.

This is the story of Team WISE.

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below:

Iris (Part Two)

They honor Graves.

They decorate the Royal.

And they reward the Faithful.

“And then, there was this one time we were practicing a move! Blake here, messed up the swing and sling-shot me right through Professor Oobleck’s window!” Yang recounted a story, a bit drunkenly.

“Oh, my gosh!” Kali held a hand to her mouth. “Then, what happened?”

“We just ran! We didn’t know what else to do!”

The whole dining room table roared with laughter. Ghira pounded the table and Kali giggled with a high pitch. Yang continued to smile widely, as she took another gulp of her beer. The only one that didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves was the fourth person at the table.

“Hey, Blake. Remind me again what we got slapped with when they caught us?” Yang posed.

“…Two weeks detention. We had to write a ten-page essay and perform the move successfully in front of Ms. Goodwitch fifty times,” Blake answered gloomily.

“Oh, yeah! Still, did force us to learn Bumblebee right!”

“—I bet,” Kali grinned. “Do you have anymore stories? Blake rarely ever talks about her Beacon days!”

“—Mom…” Blake started.

“—Only if you show me more of Blake’s baby pictures!” Yang countered.

“—Of course!” Kali agreed.

“—MOM!” Blake stood abruptly, causing everyone to eye her.

She didn’t know whether the outburst was due to embarrassment, or the sheer confusion to the situation playing out before her. Either way, she couldn’t let things continue any longer.

“Yang and I need to talk about something.” Blake simmered down and evened her tone. “Something important.”

“Oh!” Kali’s ears twitched, like she was just reminded of something. “It is late, after all. Please, Yang. We insist you stay the night.”

“—Aw, you sure it won’t be too much trouble Mrs. Belladonna?”

“Not at all! We have a free guestroom, and please, call me Kali.”

Yang stared at the woman, who seemed to be making strange eyes.

“—MOM! YANG!” Blake grabbed their attentions.

“Oh, right, right,” Yang chuckled. “Let’s go to your room, then.”

After they all exchanged goodnights with each other, Blake led Yang upstairs to her bedroom.

It was more professional than luxurious. A bed, work desk, and clothing drawer took up most of the space. Some assorted weapons and tools hung on a nearby wall.

As Yang stepped inside, she commented, “Huh. Kinda expected something a little more…girly. No stuffed animals, no tea sets, not even a lot of books.”

“Seriously…?” Blake replied.

“Not even drapes around your bed. Thought you’d have the whole royalty suite being the Princess of the White Fang, and all.”

Blake winced at the parodied title. Another thing she never told Yang or her teammates back in the day. Nothing about her father being the original leader of the White Fang. Just more secrets she should have been open about. She could only wonder what else Yang discovered about her in the time they were apart.

But there was one curiosity outweighing them all.

“Why…Why are you here, Yang? How did you get here?”

The woman, who was her former partner turned to her with a fury. It was like night and day. The cheerful, friendly persona Yang put on for Blake’s parents fell by the wayside. A mask that was violently torn off to reveal the angry beast within.

The red in Yang’s eyes burned with the emotional activation of her Semblance. Her brow wrinkled, and her teeth bore like she would sink them in Blake’s neck. Blonde hair blazing like molten fire. She was the picturesque depiction of a raging demon god.

There it is, Blake thought guiltily.

This is the Yang I expected to see…

After all this time…

Yang squared close to her. She could feel the heated breath on her nose.

Blake would be lying if she said she wasn’t perturbed. All the battlefields she saw, and all the hard experiences over the years, and this lone woman in front of her scared her unlike anything else.

Not death, though.

If Yang was going to kill her… she might have even welcomed it.

No, it was confronting something she had discarded, something she had broken. Things she was still trying to detach herself from. It was a wound deeper than anything physical trauma could ever inflict.

“—You wanna know why I’m here, Blake?” Yang growled.

“Because, you owe me.”

X X X X X

“Because, she owes you,” Weiss answered.

“Haaah?” Yang offset her brow skeptically.

The two were lying naked in bed with a thin sheet over them. Weiss was busy multitasking, going through documents on her tablet that rested on her pillow, when she answered Yang’s question. The other, not completely satisfied with the one sentence explanation tried to get more clarity.

“THAT’S why you’re sending me?”

“You’re our best option to begin talks,” Weiss replied.

“You can’t go yourself?”

“She’d turn me away the moment she saw me.”

“It’s not enough you’re helping sponsor her war?”

“Iris…isn’t sure I have the Faunus’ best interests at heart.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

Weiss stopped reading her tablet to throw Yang a glare.

“…Right. Noted. Don’t say that kind of stuff when I see her,” the messy-haired woman chuckled.

“Maybe I should make a list of things you shouldn’t say, and have you study it. Discretion isn’t your strongest suit.”

“Excuse me! Who just went deep undercover in a prison for five months?”

“…”

Weiss didn’t answer, only continuing to tap away on her tablet. Yang grunted a little from the lack of attention. She began tracing little circles on the porcelain skin of the other’s back.

“You could send Ruby.”

“I need Scarlet for the hard sell,” Weiss replied.

“Sure… Always making me do the worst stuff.”

“…”

“So, I get her to see you. That’s it?”

“By whatever means necessary.”

“By guilt-tripping her into it, you mean.”

“Whatever means necessary.”

“Hmm…”

“And obviously, do NOT mention anything concerning you and I,” Weiss emphasized.

At the same time, Yang’s hand wandered down to grope the woman’s butt.

“Sorry, don’t mention what?”

“…”

“Oh, come ON! Yeah, sure. But you know, I kinda wanna see the looks on Ruby and Blake’s faces. Why is it a problem if they find out?”

“Our relationships are estranged as they are. If we are to function as a team, better less strain than more, wouldn’t you say?”

“Okay, okay. No mentioning to either how I make you scream in bed.”

“I don’t scream.”

“Sing?”

“…Get out.”

“Ahaha—”

“No, I’m serious,” Weiss glared, with a serious tone. “Get out. I have things I need to do.”

“……Fine.” Yang got out from the bedsheets and began dressing angrily. “I need to prep the target package for Adam, anyway.”

“Make sure you’re ready to make contact with Iris first.”

“I got it!”

Yang stomped across Weiss’s room, and stopped just before the open door.

“You know, one day you’re gonna tell me exactly why you’re trying to form Team WISE. Because I know you, and you didn’t do it for the nostalgia or the sentimentality. And it’s far from the best team we’ve got or can put together…”

Knowing she wasn’t going to receive a response, Yang left with that.

Once Weiss was alone, she massaged the bridge of her brow tiredly. She brought up various data on her tablet. Catastrophes and signs of the apocalypse, including the recent outbreak of Corruption effecting the Faunus.

There’s no time to get emotional…

Weiss sighed.

If Yang’s angry now,

I can only imagine how she’ll be later.

X X X X X

In the present, Yang glowered over Blake. The dark-haired woman waited patiently for her former partner to berate her endlessly. Maybe, even attack her. At the same time, Blake tried to hold herself still for the storm to come.

“You owe me, big time. So you’re gonna do what I ask,” Yang told her.

“What?” the word escaped her unexpectedly.

“You’re going to talk to Weiss.”

“…That’s what you’re here for?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise, believe me.”

“You’re here because—Wait, you’re working for Weiss?!”

“Strictly business. She’s been trying to see you for a while now. Since you keep dodging her calls, she had to send me.”

Blake felt something immediately boil from her stomach, an anger she usually kept a quiet lid on with ease. But something about what Yang said, and the situation they were in, broke all emotional failsafes.

“Weiss wants me to accept Atlas’s backing that much, she actually sent you to convince me?!”

“Hm. I can see how it looks like that. The North Faction’s in dead straits, huh?”

“Answer me!”

Yang grabbed Blake’s collar, and pushed her against the wall.

“That’s not how this works! You don’t make demands! I do!”

Blake shook her head in defiance. The old fear was gone. She didn’t see Yang before her. She saw one of Weiss’s soldiers, a messenger, or even a petty thug. Her immovable resolve returned, as well as her anger.

“Go back.” She grasped the prosthetic arm pushing into her. “Tell Weiss, I’ll never cut a deal.”

“This isn’t about your dumb civil war! This is something bigger than that!”

“What?! She wants to use the Faunus for the Great War? As if enough of my people aren’t dying already?!”

“This isn’t about the Faunus! This is about Remnant!”

“I don’t have anything else to say to you—or her.”

Yang pulled Blake shortly from the wall, before slamming her against it again. The back of the woman’s head knocked hard on the wooden surface. Her bandages came undone. But even with a freshly opened wound, Blake continued to stare defiantly at her former partner, unfazed.

“You owe me!” Yang shouted. “Or did you forget what happened when Beacon fell? How you left me?!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry for what happened to you, Yang. It was my fault.” Blake’s tone softened, but still sounded firm. “If it’s for you, I’ll do anything. If it’s you asking… But I won’t do it for Weiss.”

“There’s no difference!”

“There IS a difference, and you know it!”

The two locked deathly glares for what seemed like hours. The tension was so thick, it felt as if they were underwater.

“…I knew this wouldn’t work,” Yang scoffed, and let go of Blake. “This whole thing was a waste of time.”

“I suppose… it was.”

“How about that? First mission I ever failed for Weiss. I’m glad it was this one.”

“Sure. Go back and tell her you failed.”

“How she thought you and I could ever work on the same team again is beyond me!”

“…She wanted us to work on the same team?”

“Yeah. Weiss is putting the old band back together. Would’ve just told her if she asked. There’s no way we could work with someone who cuts and runs on her teammates for her own sake.”

Blakes eyes went wide. Her thoughts went back to tonight’s bombing. Her cold decision to leave her comrades behind, in order to prioritize Sienna. But something in Yang’s words brought a strange resolution to the doubts she harbored.

“I am a lot of things, Yang…!” Blake broiled. “But I would never abandon anyone for myself!”

“HAHA!” Yang barked out a laugh. “Where do you find the nerve to say that, after what you did back at Beacon?!”

“I did what I had to! You think I wanted to leave the way I did?! As long as I was around, you were never going to be safe from Adam!”

“You think I cared about what that prick could do?!”

“I CARED!” Blake’s emotional dam burst, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I CARED WHAT HE COULD DO TO YOU OR WORSE. AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN MY FAULT!!!”

“…”

“So, yes…! I left, so nothing else could’ve happened to you…! I threw away the most—” She choked, and stopped what she was saying. The words caught taut in her throat.

…

“Say it, Blake. I want to hear you say it.”

“…I threw away the happiest part of myself, when I left…” Blake admitted sadly. “You can hate me all you want. I deserve it. You lost your arm because of me.”

“You think I hate you because I lost one arm? You think I hated you for this?!” Yang held up her prosthetic. “You didn’t do this to me, Adam did.”

“And I brought us into our lives!”

“I never blamed you for that.”

Blake shook her head.

“But I did,” her voice stuttered. “I know I hurt you when I left.”

“Pft, HAH!” Yang scoffed. “You think you hurt me when you left…”

“I wish it was different. Not a day goes by I wish I had handled things differently or fix what I broke.”

“You could have! ‘Not a day goes by’? You could’ve come back any time! TEN FUCKING YEARS, BLAKE! You never said a word, never reached out, not a damn thing, until I was the one who showed up at your house! Not even by choice!”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“There it is again! You think you hurt me…”

“…Yang?”

The rageful woman looked like she was building up to something. A burden she carried with her since that fateful day, when her world turned upside down. Something she never admitted to anyone or even whispered in her most private moments.

“I’m never going to see you again… So, screw it, why not.”

Yang breathed deep in her chest, resolving to release what she bottled for so long.

“You didn’t just hurt me, Blake…YOU DESTROYED ME!!!”

“Yang…?”

“You know how long I waited for you to come back?! You know how much I hated myself for not being enough for you to stay?!”

“I didn’t leave, because—”

“BUT YOU DID, AND YOU STAYED AWAY! Could’ve came back a thousand times over, but you never did! Don’t worry, though! I got over it, and it all finally sunk in. It took a while to learn, but it was you, who taught me the most important life lesson of all.”

“…”

“There’s only ever gonna be you out there. Putting faith in someone, trusting someone else? Heh! You either wise up or get dead. The next years only taught me I was right. No one to depend on, but yourself.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Why apologize? I should be thanking you.”

“…”

Blake wanted to speak, but when she tried, she couldn’t find the words. Nothing prepared her for it, brace her for it. In the end, she wanted to say anything at all—anything that came to mind.

“What do you want from me, Yang?” she barely eked out. “If there’s anything you want—”

Yang punched her fist close to Blake’s head and leaned close. The woman’s body pinning the other to the wall. Yang pressed her forehead down to her former partner, so the brightest red of her eyes could be seen.

“There’s nothing you can give me.”

Yang pressed her lips violently down on Blake’s.

And when she parted, she did it with a snarl.

“Not a fucking thing.”

X X X X X

Early next morning, Yang tried to sneak out of the guestroom as quietly as possible. But, as if predicting such a thing, Kali and Ghira were already awake in the living room.

“Good morning, Yang,” Kali greeted pleasantly. “You’re already leaving?”

“Sorry, Kali. I would stay longer, but I got an emergency phone call from my boss.”

“—Not even enough time for breakfast?” Ghira offered.

“Honestly, I’m starving, but my ride’s already here,” Yang hitched her thumb to the rumbling of an airship outside the front door. “Thanks for the offer, though. And thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Of course. You’re welcome any time.”

“—Yang!” Blake called from upstairs. “Wait for me.”

Yang tried to hide the surprise on her face, as her former partner made her way down.

Blake turned to her parents.

“Dad, is it alright if I leave some things to you today?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, you can.”

“I already let Ilia and Sun know. If you have any questions, you can ask them. Tell Sienna that I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Alright. I understand.”

“—Will you be home for dinner?” Kali asked.

“I’m not too sure, actually,” Blake glanced at Yang. “This may take a while. I’ll call if it takes longer than a day.”

Her mother seemed like she wanted to ask more questions, but decided now wasn’t the time for it.

“Alright, Blake,” Kali nodded. “Be safe.”

“I will, Mom. Thanks.”

Blake hugged both her parents, and strode past Yang to the front door. On opening it, a wave of hot air blew from the small airship landing.

Yang was about to go too, when Kali suddenly embraced her. The older woman turned her head to whisper loud enough only Yang could hear.

“If you harm one hair on my daughter’s head, I will hunt you down. Understand?”

When they parted from the embrace, Kali beamed with an oblivious smile. Apparently, Blake’s parents didn’t fall for Yang’s friendly act for a second.

“Heh!” she chuckled. “I hear you. But if you really want to keep her safe, you should just stop her right now.”

Ghira and Kali only continued to grin silently.

“…Shit.” Yang turned, and began walking to the airship. She caught up to Blake with a glare. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This is your mission, right?” Blake replied in monotone, as she stepped through the side-door. “Mission complete.”

Once Yang was onboard, the airship took off following Penny’s autopilot. They looked to be traveling to a random point in the sky, when a square tunnel suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

The aircraft carefully navigated itself through the mouth, before the landing doors closed behind them.

Hm.

So, R&D finished constructing the Nautilus…

Yang commented inwardly.

Weiss must be happy.

Once they finished landing, Yang and Blake stepped out into the interior of the first Dreadnought-class warship with full optical camo capabilities.

“It’s huge,” Blake murmured. The woman’s sharp eyes scanned the hull curiously. “But it’s…empty. Where’s the crew?”

Yang only shrugged. “Penny’s AI is complex. She’s probably managing everything.”

Blake could only awe at the technological feat, as Yang led them through the interior. There was a lot to be impressed about, but there also came with it a feeling of dread. The number of things such a warship was capable of wasn’t hard to imagine. The possibilities and damage it could inflict were almost infinite.

“—Blake.”

“Hm?” she blinked, having her train of thought suddenly cut.

“What are you doing?” Yang asked, stopping right before a steel door. “You didn’t want to see, Weiss. Now, you do. What changed your mind?”

“I have my reasons.”

“It better not have anything to do with me.”

“And, if it did?”

“Nothing changes. I honestly wanna just drop you out the cargo door and never see you again.”

“…You don’t have to worry about that. I’m only seeing Weiss after thinking a few things over. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Good. Don’t take the offer to join the team.”

“I doubt I will, but I’ll make my own decision when the time comes.”

“Tch,” Yang clicked her teeth in annoyance.

She operated the security panel to the conference room. The door slid open to allow access. And inside, they could see two figures sitting at the end of a long table.

“Weiss…” Blake muttered. “Ruby…”

Ruby stood from her chair with a genuine smile on her face, while Weiss addressed her with a business-like professionalism. Her hands clasped firmly behind her back with a stout military posture.

“Blake,” Weiss greeted curtly.

“There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

X X X X X

It had been a long time since all the members of Team RWBY were together in one place.

An awkward atmosphere filled the small conference room. They themselves probably didn’t realize this moment would actually come to fruition. And now that it did, they were caught off guard.

But the stagnation only lasted for a second.

Before Weiss could say more, or Ruby enjoy the reunion, or Blake had a chance to settle…

“—Winter,” Yang called over the table callously. “I brought Iris.”

“—Iris?” Blake wondered. “Winter?”

“—Yes, you’ve accomplished your mission well,” Weiss nodded.

“—So? I kept my end of the bargain,” Yang rested her hands on her hips testily. “Your turn.”

“……Team CFEN(Coffin) is waiting for you in the second hangar.”

“Finally.”

Without waiting another moment, Yang turned on her foot and left.

As she made her way down to where her hit squad was, a storm of emotions raged through her insides. She thought Blake was never going to take up Weiss’s offer to meet. She wished she didn’t. And after their argument last night, she was sure that was the end of it.

Yang made peace with never having to see Blake again—never having to think about her former partner again. But in a few short hours, that freedom of alleviated burden was gone. As if Ruby wasn’t enough, more reminders shackling her to the memory of how naïve she once was kept appearing one after another. It drove her mad.

Luckily, and perhaps unluckily for someone else, Yang had an outlet for her unquenching wrath.

She turned another corner, punched in the security codes for a gate, and entered a large corridor. Gear boxes and heavy suitcases piled along the walls. Gunpowder, coffee, and the smell of burnt Dust wafted through the air. A private Swordfish-class Airship was set down in the middle of the hangar. And just below the sharp nose of the plane, sat three of the deadliest fighters on the planet.

“About time you showed up to your own party,” Coco Adel greeted, raising a coffee mug.

Yang joined them in sitting around a make-shift table covered with intel on Adam Taurus and the operational plans to take him out.

“Yeah, got held up by some errands Winter had me do. I gotta say, I missed working with you guys.”

“Guess, what they say is right. Five months in prison does make the heart grow softer,” Coco chuckled.

“That’s not even close to what the saying is,” Yang laughed, and turned to her other two teammates. “You guys miss me?”

Fox Alistair had his arms crossed, and gave the most imperceptible of most nods. While Neopolitan stared back at her blankly.

“Yeah, you missed me,” Yang practically beamed at all of them.

No matter what Weiss says, this is my team.

“Well? Let’s do what Team CFEN does best, shall we?”

“Time to put some bodies in coffins.”

X X X X X

Blake sifted through the papers on the conference desk with a collected mindset. Despite the dire picture the data painted for Remnant’s future, she continued to scrutinize the documents carefully.

There was a lot of material to take in, understanding the conclusions being drawn, but also spotting any suspicious signs that the findings were falsified.

“It’s all true,” Weiss said. “The findings have been verified by a number of sources, including the top analysts in Atlas.”

“As if I could trust anything an S.D.C. employee might say,” Blake replied, as she flipped to the next page without looking at her.

“Do you have any opinions so far?”

“Relics, Maidens, the War……and the Corruption. They’re all connected.”

“So, it would seem.”

“You know, if the S.D.C. had so much funding they could afford to wage a war, while conducting this research—they could have spared some relief to help the Faunus. Even a fraction would’ve made a great difference…”

“I believe in treating the disease, not the symptom.”

“…And Vacuo wouldn’t be in the state it is now.”

“If you took Atlas’s offer for a full alliance partnership, Vacuo also wouldn’t be in the state it is now.”

“—Guys!” Ruby intervened in the argument about to erupt. “We can’t fight each other, when the real fight is out there.”

“You’re actually siding with her on this?” Blake peered over the documents.

“I’m saying our enemies aren’t in this room. That’s it.”

“So, you believe in these findings? The End of Remnant?”

“I… actually saw some of it firsthand. You did, too.”

“……I’m getting some air.”

With that, Blake strode out of the conference room. Meanwhile, Ruby threw a look at Weiss, whose continuous steely demeanor didn’t help the situation.

“You are trying to convince Blake to join us, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Then, why are you making things so difficult?”

“Oh? Would you prefer I forcefully capture her, forcefully make her see the legitimacy of our impending doom, and then forcefully recruit her onto my team?”

“Ugh! I can’t believe I was okay with that…”

“I knew you could see the truth in what I was doing, regardless of the measures I took.”

“You’re the worst…”

“Blake will come around.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ruby furrowed her brow skeptically. “Her people are in the middle of a civil war. I doubt she’s going to walk away from that to join some mystery team.”

“Vacuo’s civil war will quickly transition into a civil movement in the next few days.”

“…” Ruby didn’t respond. She knew the reason why the change would happen, and it made her feel guilty not to tell Blake. “Still, she might just take these findings and tell other people, like Sienna Khan? Blake won’t want to work with us, or more specifically—you.”

The bitterness in the last word was probably meant to sting Weiss, but the silver-haired woman paid it no mind.

“That’s why I’m using a different recruitment method with Blake than I did with you,” Weiss answered coldly. “I’m depending on you and Yang to convince her to join. While Yang has done her part, it’s time you do yours.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I think Blake’s had enough time to digest what she read. Now, she needs to hear some words of encouragement from an unbiased party, from someone she trusts.”

In response, Ruby brandished a vicious glare at her team leader. Calling the woman’s methods manipulative would be an understatement.

“Go, and see Iris’s recruitment is finalized, Scarlet,” Weiss ordered, without a care. “Make her see reason. Team WISE must be completed and operational as soon as possible.”

Ruby was on the verge of leaping over the table and strangling her partner’s throat, when she checked herself. Releasing her anger on Weiss, while satisfying, would do little to dissipate all the things bothering her. No, she would wait until later to confront her “boss”, without drastic consequences clouding overhead.

The red-hooded woman left the room to find Blake outside, on the Nautilus’s top deck.

There was nothing but empty blue skies above them, while clouds below stretched in every direction like an endless ocean. The breeze was strong, but tranquil in a sense. Their airship hovered silently, decloaked and in standby mode.

And at the edge of the deck’s railing, Blake leaned into the view. Ruby slowly walked to her side to join her.

Immediately, Blake wrapped her hands around Ruby’s shoulders, catching the red-hooded woman off-guard. But after the initial surprise faded, she hugged her old teammate back.

“I was so worried,” Blake muttered into her shoulder. “I heard Weiss took Beacon. There were so many rumors she killed you.”

“I bet…”

“I didn’t believe them, that she would be capable of that. I figured she captured you. But…”

“It’s okay, Blake.”

“Deep down, I was really afraid she actually did it.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Hehe! Me, too.”

The time to bask in each other’s healthy well-beings, which was postponed earlier in the conference room, took place then. And the two young women showed their legitimate relief in the presence of the other. Unfortunately, the more they wanted to spend time casually catching each other up on what they had been doing since their disbandment, the seriousness of their situation took root.

“So…Weiss sent you up here to finish recruiting me, I take it?” Blake asked, after a time.

“Yup!” Ruby chirped.

“Are you actually going to do it?”

“Nope!”

Blake chuckled at that. The change in Weiss and Yang over the years was disturbing to say the least, but Ruby was still very much how she remembered. It did a lot to calm the noise of misgivings she harbored.

“I don’t know if I can go along with a lot of what Weiss is proposing.”

“No, me neither,” Ruby agreed.

“I can understand the reasoning. And as much as I hate to admit it, what Yang said before was right. What’s happening right now is bigger than the Faunus. Or rather, it includes what’s happening to us.”

“But you don’t want to abandon the small fight for the big one.”

“Yes! Exactly! My people need me…”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Blake,” Ruby smiled understandably. “I have the convenience of leaving my students with Ms. Goodwitch and the other Professors. You don’t have that luxury.”

“…I just—it feels like I’m fighting a losing battle down there. And then, Weiss and Yang appear out of nowhere, making it plainly obvious that THIS situation with Remnant is the battle I’m supposed to be fighting.”

“It feels like the easy way out?”

“…Like I’m running away. Like I’m leaving the problem in someone else’s hands to join a situation that’s less harrowing.”

“Well, to be fair, I think the End of Remnant is pretty harrowing, too.”

“True,” Blake grinned wryly and sighed. “What do you think I should do?”

“I can’t make your decisions, Blake. The only one in charge of your own destiny is you.”

“Wow. I guess it hadn’t really sunk in, but you really are the Vice Headmaster of Beacon now.”

“Former Vice Headmaster, but I did learn a thing or two about giving lectures than getting them. Although, Professor Goodwitch is always quick to remind me I still have a lot to learn.”

“…Ruby. Are you really going through with this? The things Team WISE is going to do, they cross lines a Huntress would never entertain.”

“…I don’t think I have a choice. My mind was already made up the moment I learned what was coming. Huntress or not.”

“And, Weiss? Yang?”

Ruby’s expression darkened, but only briefly.

“They’re not the same people, who they used to be. I know that. Then, again, neither is anyone.”

“They’re almost completely different people,” Blake commented.

“…I wonder about that. Maybe, they just grew up into who they really are.”

“Ruby?”

“Ahaha! Sorry, more of my Professor side coming through again,” Ruby smiled uneasily. “But when it comes down to it, if it’s to save the people of this world, it doesn’t matter who I have to work with. That’s my reasoning, at least.”

“……I’ll ask you again. Maybe, not as a Professor, not as my former team leader or Weiss’s partner…”

“…”

“As my friend, what do you think I should do?”

The two stared out into the blue sky for a long while. More clouds drifted by, giving a sense that all worries slowly, but eventually, were carried into the winds and ceased to matter in the grand scheme of things. A solemn and sobering content.

“You shouldn’t join the team,” Ruby answered. “Weiss, Yang, and I will find another way. It doesn’t have to be you, Blake.”

“…”

“And…it might be too much for me to say this, but if you join—I think you’ll be doing it for the wrong reasons.”

Blake pondered on the response. There was a sincerity in the other’s voice she didn’t remember it having when they were younger. A wisdom of someone with miles traveled on their soul. Another testament to how much they’d grown.

“Thank you, Ruby. It meant a lot to hear you say that.”

“I hope it helped.”

“It did,” Blake smiled. “It helped me confirm my decision.”

“…Alright.”

…

Blake returned to the conference room alone.

On entering, she saw Weiss at the end of the table, just like before. As if waiting exactly for this moment to pass.

“Have you made your decision?” Weiss asked.

“Yes. And you already know it, don’t you?”

“…”

“Good. Then, this is goodbye—”

“Ruby needs you on this team,” Weiss interrupted. “I think you noticed that, but she wants to push you away, regardless.”

“…”

“And you’re still in love with Yang.”

“…!”

Blake’s temper rose dramatically, and her ears stood on end.

“This team needs you,” Weiss continued. “And you need this team.”

Blake could only scowl at the other, almost letting out a hiss. But she found it in herself to turn away coldly.

“Goodbye, Weiss,” the woman said over her shoulder.

Throughout the short conversation, Weiss’s demeanor remained unchanged. As if it was all going according to plan.

“See you soon, Iris.”

#rwby #Blake Belladonna #yang xiao long #ruby rose #weiss schnee #Team WISE

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wordsonpagespress · 6 years ago

Text

Winnie, by Jack Hostrawser

fiction by Jack Hostrawser | second place fiction winner of the 2017 Blodwyn Memorial Prize, sponsored by Book*Hug

“‘Winnie’ is an exemplary story in all aspects: from characters to pacing to the prose itself—so clear and crisp it is almost transparent. The story drew us in immediately and never let us go. The moment you finish, you want to jump right back up to the start and begin again, and it never fails to hold up under more and more readings.”

It’ll go like this all night, when the snow’s fine like this. I’ve turned the light off in the guest room and slid a chair up to the window to sit and watch until my mom’s ready. Some high-backed thing that’s not very comfortable unless you fold yourself up in it. Everything in Yusuf’s house is like that. People from the forties have weird tastes.

I’ve got a long view from here down to the fields he rents out and all the dry corn still in them, whispering in the snow. If I had the time, maybe I’d go out later all bundled up and go walking in the storm and try to appreciate it. There’s never going to be any snow at Dad’s place.

Mom knocks once then enters, smelling like the fireplace downstairs. “You don’t want the lights on?” she asks, flicking them on. I pick up my backpack of things and she steps out of the way. Yusuf and her are taking his kids on a whirlwind tour of Egypt for three weeks over Christmas break. They’ll spend what some people earn in a year. Mom really wants me to come.

Instead, she says “Your father will really appreciate the company company this time of year.”

The drive in from the hills to the city is slow and warm inside my mother’s new car. The car is noiseless, and when the traffic parts it plummets downhill like a boulder breaking loose. Cities look really nice in snowstorms, before the ploughs clear the roads. I watch the surface streets passing below us like Christmas village scenes of cars stuck on hills and people strolling with their tongues out. As we pull up to the terminal men in suits waiting on the sidewalk look up at this bright red machine crunching through the white streetlight. Mom pays my fare for the shuttle, both ways.

When I was born my parents picked Winnie, after my grandfather (Dad’s side). I never got a good answer as to why they chose that name for their daughter. Winston Liam was a forest-firefighter in Washington and B.C. He worked in the oil sands when the mountains weren’t burning. This was back in the twenties. I was able to find out a lot about him because he posted so much online. The pictures he took on his sorties were actually really good—lots of haze between the trees and predatory, scurrying flames. Family stuff too, but in those he always seemed uncertain. His picture face was to furrow his brow and push up his frown and wait. My dad doesn’t talk about him much.

This is what I figure happened: I think he got blindsided bad a few times, coming home from a season out there in the bush and finding the world changed. He stumbled out of the backcountry smoking or covered in oil and people were asking his opinion about neural interfaces or the businessmen on Mars. And all the while the rains kept failing and his wives kept leaving. I won’t throw stones.

I spot Dad as I squeeze out of the elevator. The terminal always smells like sweat and cleaning solvents. He stands up from the bench and smiles awkwardly at me like we’re sharing a joke. I reach out to hug him with the in-flight magazine still in my hand and I feel his bony ribs under the thin sweater.

“Hello, daughter. How’s the weather?”

“Snowing, father. Don’t you ever look down?”

“Making small talk, Win.”

“Sorry.” I smile for him. “How was your big job on the outside?”

“Long.”

“Yeah but… holy shit. EVA.”

He shrugs, pulls a little box from his pocket. “It’s a little early but… I got you something.”

The wrapping paper is an old invoice. Inside is an acrylic cube the size of a golf ball with a rust-coloured pebble set in the centre.

“Cala at work said some really nice things about, uh, what it means—the significance of the rock, that is.” He takes a deep breath and fake-laughs. “I forgot every goddamned word.”

I twist the glass to pick out the details. It looks like a kidney and is definitely igneous, dull in colour and rough. “Holy shit, Dad. Is this real?”

He’s already walking. “Yep,” he says, “There’s a certificate in the box.” I follow with my eyes on the rock, trying not to trip. Fucking Mars.

“How’s your mother?”

“I dunno. Same. She got her new car.”

He nods and starts leading the way to his apartment. The strip near any of the spokes is all hotels and restaurants. We walk through a movie-set version of the Mediterranean with faux cobblestones and hidden fans pumping in cooking smells. A table of people in nice clothes laughs loudly about something as we pass by the patio, and I catch eye contact with a silver-haired woman in jewelry. Her eyes smile at me, while she finishes telling her story to the table. Through the skylights, the moon spins gently out of view. Once, while my parents were fighting, my mother brought me up here, to the Italian place by B-Spoke, pretending to have money in a terrifying, quiet fever.

At the door to his apartment he lifts his card toward the sensor but stops. “I’m having the, uh…” He stares at his room number where it’s glued to the door, picking at the edge of the card. “I updated the will. But it’s going to take a while, so there’s a document I’ve had them make up. It sort of supersedes what’s—”

“You expecting to die?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think I’m going to die.” He always shrugs when talking about complicated life things. Right now he shrugs and says “You never know.” After a few seconds he smiles a little and says the next thing almost under his breath. “Now, if something happens to me, it won’t all go to your mother.”

I’ve spent evenings with him, watching shitty action movies and trying to keep him occupied enough. Spite’s a new emotion from him. He taps the card and the door unlocks. He puts his jacket on the counter and orders a pizza.

This latest place is about nine hundred square feet, white paint on drywall with recessed lights. Probably not renovated since they built the station. It was a two-bedroom, but one turned into his office. I fold out the couch when I visit, which is fine by me—I slept on a coffee table once at a party, and Dad’s saving money. He really loves making the joke about not quite being able to afford the balcony option yet, and after the first visit I started having this recurring dream of there being a balcony, and a sliding glass door instead of tall windows. I would lean on the railing and watch the sun set over and over behind the curve of the planet. The vacuum smelled like a winter night. In reality, it stinks like ozone. When the cargo ships come in, the docks reek of it.

The dishwasher, I notice, is in pieces on the kitchen floor, parts labeled and a how-to guide printed out. He steps through it and goes into his office to finish work. I open the shutters on the windows and find myself staring down onto wrinkled white tundra, falling slowly away under scattered cirrus clouds. I stare at the floor until the vertigo fades. (The little wooden tiles are the exact shape of Jenga blocks.)

When Dad’s finished I reheat up some slices for him and we watch a movie in the dark, about a man stuck on a hijacked shuttle. The bad guy is trying to distract the authorities while he steals a secret briefcase of money in the cargo hold. People squint and grimace before shooting each other and Dad falls asleep halfway. As the credits roll he inhales and lifts himself out of the armchair, slow as a scuba diver, and walks in stiff steps across the room to the short hallway. The bathroom fan squeaks as it spins up. I’m too jet-lagged to sleep, so I lie awake and browse through articles, looking up to watch the sunset. I fall asleep somewhere in the middle of a feature about famous nuclear weapons accidents.

The first time I went into the hills to eat dinner with my mother at Yusuf’s house she told me the story of her new life: the car, the landscaping, the painting classes at the adult education centre. She served dinner to his daughters and me, and then to Yusuf, telling me there was going to be an allowance.

“You understand, I just never want you to ever feel trapped anywhere. You’re such an amazing young woman and I want you to be free to do the things that matter to you.”

“I guess. I could get a new place of my own.”

“Yes, exactly. Even more than that, though. I want you to think big. It’s so important to travel when you’re young and see the world and not get stuck thinking you have to be one thing or that you have to do a job you hate.”

Yusuf picked up the gravy and poured it onto his duck, looking at me. “Do you have anyplace you’d like to see?”

“I don’t know.”

The three daughters laughed incredulously. “Anywhere in the world?” one asked.

I sipped my wine. “Maybe the Rockies?”

“Oh my God,” my mother said, “yes, you have to see the Rockies. I’m saying you can do that now. Or, when the papers are all signed, but you know what I mean. I want you to really live, Winnie.”

I must have said something nice. I know I picked up a forkful of meat and chewed it, thinking about my own kind of greed. This time last year my mother was drunk in front of the TV while Dad worked in lieu of coming home. But I said nothing and took the money she gave me at the spaceport afterward. The first transfer arrived a week later.

When my dad’s biological mom died last summer he had me sit the house until it sold, and while there I went through her computer. The videos went way back. My favourite is from some camping trip Winston took with three friends after high school, with no idea what they were doing and blackflies in their hair. They’re in canoes, drinking hard and fishing illegally. It looks like they probably don’t expect to hook the huge pike that they do. Winston’s holding the rod and he panics, making his friend panic and that plus the fish’s thrashing almost tips the boat. The guy filming can barely hold up his phone, he’s laughing so hard. The two fishermen somehow get the fish out of the water and then Winston starts beating it with his paddle as hard as he can to make it stop thundering around in the boat. Finally it dies, or passes out, and the two guys just stare at each other for a moment, panting, then they both begin howling with laughter until they can’t breathe. I watched that one over and over. I can’t… I don’t know why.

Dad’s already gone when I wake up on the couch, but he’s left a note saying we’re going out for dinner tonight. I step over all the pieces of dishwasher and make an omelette, which I eat while I try to see how the pieces fit together. He has the parts all labeled in his squared-off handwriting and the littlest bits are taped up in plastic baggies. The trick to repairing stuff is just to fiddle with the pieces until you start finding connections. Yusuf said that. He keeps a yacht in Alexandria, and the first time he took Mom and me down to see it we set out for Cyprus, then broke down. So instead we hung out in the middle of the Mediterranean and stargazed while he crawled below deck, basically learning how to do marine diesel engine repair on the spot. He’s clever like that. At some point in the night he woke me with a bribe of tea to come help him dismantle a water pump so he could fish the broken impeller blades from it. When we had the thing disassembled on the floor he got up and stretched and raised his eyebrows mid-yawn when he noticed the time.

“I started out as a mechanic. Did I tell you that?”

“Mom mentioned it.”

“If you wanted to eat where I grew up you figured something out, and you charged for it.”

“Wow.”

“Can’t be afraid to break things. You just,” he made a chopping motion at the engine with his hand, “try things. Nothing ever fixes itself.” He thought about that for a moment. “Entropy.”

When the pump had a new impeller and the engine was running again, my mother woke up and dragged him off to bed. I climbed up onto the foredeck and stared up at the sky, watching for satellites.

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