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gperry007 · 4 months

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Something sad happened to me, almost 6 months ago, which still cuts today as it did on the 18th December 2023. My father passed away. His name was Alan Perry.

A friend of his Peter Thabit, asked me to write a few pages about his life for a poetry publication - the following is my attempt to put into words:

Alan Perry, son of Griff and Edna, retired Art teacher, writer, poet and extraordinary artist, but also Husband, Dad and friend to many he knew. To me, my father’s life was an enigma, he saw things others cannot, he uniquely expressed himself via poetry, writing, sculpture, photography and art. I am not going to try to outline his work or his creative processes, the artwork and the books and publications should speak for themselves. I am not going to write about the missing stories about his time as an aspiring art student in Swansea art college where he made lifelong friends and where he met the love of his life and future wife, my mother Jean. Or of his job as a comprehensive school Art teacher, inspiring kids in both Penlan and Morriston. Instead, I am going to write about the man I knew as my Dad. If I am honest, my Dad was just a sweet intelligent boy who grew up in Swansea surrounded by friends and family. He had a loyalty and love of family that kept him in Swansea. His mother wanted him to attend Oxford University, and as many of his accolades show he could well have been capable of going to Oxford and leading a different life. I don’t think he ever regretted not leaving.

He grew up in Post War Swansea, attending Bishop Gore Gramma School. Once he told me, of care free times he played cowboys and Indians with his brother ‘Andrew’ in Singleton Park and on the sand dunes between the Cenotaph and Black Pill. Although things were not all plain sailing, he got into trouble by putting a fake message in a bottle, after being inspired after reading Robinson Crusoe, he launched it off Swansea sands near Black Pill, only to be found out and after the emergency services spent time and resources on a fruitless search. I remember him telling me of the time when his Spanish teacher predicted he would fail his Spanish exam, but as with most things in his life he proved him wrong by passing with an ‘A’. I think this recollection may have been more to set an example for my attitude to education. A pitfall of having both parents as Teachers, high standards are always expected, but I digress. Dad had a wonderful sense of humour, we would watch many comedies on TV together, Monty Pythons flying circus to the Young Ones to ‘Laurel and Hardy films or Father Ted. He had an infectious laugh, if you were upset and annoyed you couldn’t stay that way for long once he had that silly grin on his face.

He was also very competitive, trying to beat me at chess and snooker or running, he always had that glint in his eye if he thought he could win. One time my Dad was asked to play soccer with his teacher colleagues, but he was overweight and out of condition, mainly through inactivity and he had struggled to play. Dad being Dad, his competitiveness streak spurred him to change. So much so, I must have been about 9 or 10 at the time, he took me and my brother our Labrador cross ‘Gypsy’ down to the ‘slip’ on Swansea front, where he attempted to run along the promenade. We were laughing because both my brother and I were able to run longer and faster than our Dad. But unphased that was the beginning of my Dad’s running career. He trained every single day, taking Gypsy and running, come rain or shine. He lost so much weight to the extent none of his suits that he used to wear to school would fit him. As a teenager I would run 3 miles with him some evenings, but my Dad had gotten so fit he would leave me for dust the last 400 yards as we raced to the bottom of Constitution Hill.

And by the age of 40, he had run the London Marathon – 26 Miles in the impressive time of 3 hrs and 14 minutes. I was 44 when I completed the London half marathon in the same time, bringing home the reality of how fast my Dad had run the full race, twice the distance in a faster time. And although Gypsy eventually could not keep up with him and sadly passed away, my Dad continued to run most days well into his 60’s, he would jog along the sea front or run his usual 3 mile loop.

Snooker was another of his sporting loves, always watching Pot Black and eventually the World Snooker Championships at the Crucible in Sheffield. One Christmas I remember getting a 5ft snooker table, and the hours of fun we spent, trying to become the next Welsh Champion to replace Terry Griffiths. Over 20 years he played his best friend JM in a running snooker tournament. He wrote this poem to commemorate their partnership:

In the Green Baize For John Davies

The kids all back at school, these days we have the top floor to ourselves...

No horseplay, no high-jinx, no boisterous talk - no sound at all but the click of balls, the scratch of chalk.

We can hear ourselves breathe. We can hear ourselves soundlessly walk from pocket to pocket...

Twenty-five years - and less than a score of frames between us! Yet we haven’t improved one jot - except now we botch our shots and fiddle the scoreboard with far more finesse.

Sometimes we argue. Sometimes we joke. Sometimes we curse our luck or pull off a miracle stroke.

Sometimes it feels like we’re stranded in space - two minor deities, two unranked Sysiphuses - sending these colourful spheres on their fruitless errands, not permitted a rest or a break until we’ve exhausted every possible configuration.

Sometimes we snooker ourselves and sometimes each other. Sometimes we play the percentages game and sometimes go for the pot. And sometimes, as one lines up a shot, the other, grown bored, looks beyond the rectangle of light to the back of the hall, where tabletops lie motionless and mute ranged in their dark like slabs

The stillness there is monolithic, absolute.

He was also a passionate Welsh Rugby fan stemming from his days of playing for the Bishop Gore School rugby team, many a time I would get a photo of him proudly wearing a Welsh Jersey and holding a leek on the start of the six nations.

Whenever I needed something or some help he would drop everything. I remember when we bought our first house in Kingston upon Thames (a very small mid-terrace two bedroom working men’s cottage from the 1880’s) and were having a new kitchen installed. Cecile and I both had work commitments and Dad stepped in and offered to look after the Plumber installing a new sink and washing machine. At 12pm I got a phone call from my father apologising that due to a spate with the Plumber, the Plumber had walked off the job. When I asked what happened, he explained that the Plumber had been complaining about the small space he had to work in, all morning, and that the Plumber’s language was very colourful every other word was F’ing this F’ing that, swearing about everything, but mainly about the small area he had to work in. Finally, it came to a head when the Plumber turned to my father and asked if he had a drill bit, he had not brought with him to complete the job. My father is normally a patient man, it takes a lot to push my father’s buttons, but on this occasion, he turned to the Plumber and replied, ‘No, he did not have a spare fucking drill bit, any fucking Plumber worth his salt would come prepared for every fucking eventuality and would carry the correct fucking toolbit in his tool box in the first place.’ The Plumber was take aback, he said ‘ you can’t swear at me like that’, my father said ‘ you have been F’ing and blinding and complaining ever since first thing this morning, I am just talking back to you the way you have been speaking out loud. And that was that, the Plumber turned face, packed his tools and left the job unfinished. And that was my Dad, he rang me sheepishly to tell me what he did, and I could not hold it against him, he did what he thought was right, he was acting in our best interests as always. We eventually got the kitchen installed, by the same company just a different Plumber who could not believe my father had upset his workmate so much. Afterwards my Dad, Cecile and I laughed about the whole thing as we celebrated over a meal, finally getting a new Kitchen.

Another hobby my Dad loved was to swim, but as an added quirk he sometimes would also go swimming in the middle of the night in the sea. Every summer we couldn’t afford holiday’s abroad, so most summers would be spent in a tent on a campsite down Llangennith or in a rented caravan down Burry Holmes. We would sit by the gas light whilst my father took an evening swim with only the stars and moon for light. It inspired many of his night swimmer paintings and also his Solo Exhibition at the Glynn Vivian Art Gallery in Swansea in 1993 titles Shards.

The hours he spent working for charity after he had retired and the hours of interviews, he undertook remarkable stories from the down and outs and homeless for his book ‘Music you do not normally hear’, the proceeds all donated to charity for the homeless. Or the amount of time he devoted to editing and organizing poetry readings for ‘Cheval’ and ‘When young Dodo’s meet young Dragon’s’ giving back to young writers and developing young talent in Wales. I wish I had taken more note and paid attention.

Was he selfish with his time he spent with his family, dedicating hours to art and writing, some could say yes, but no he was always there for us.

So in summation, there is no summation, my Dad lived a full life, I wish it had been longer. Living in Texas meant that we only met up a few times a year, we had weekly phone calls, but I always believed that I would return and we could spend more time together. His health had progressively deteriorated over the last couple of years. My Dad, was sometimes very unhappy and depressed when his both his parents and Brother eventually passed away, he was the last of his family and this affected him deeply. Last year, I visited him just over a month before he died, with the intention of trying to get to the bottom of his health issues and to try to ensure that he had support if he needed help. But due to certain circumstances that was not to be, however, I did manage to spend some quality time with him, which I shall cherish. My Dad was a lifelong Dylan Thomas admirer, and much as I would like to think my father fought against his passing like Dylan’s poem ‘Do not go Gently into that Good Night’, he slipped away quietly. Hopefully to be with the Father, Mother and Brother he missed so much.

It has been hard reminiscing, many a tear shed remembering all the good times, maybe I will try to write some more fond memories, It should get easier, and the last thing my Dad would want is to be sad for his passing. Adieu, until the next time we meet.

©️ Alan Perry 2024

#surrealart #surrealism #metaphysicalmuse #Artist #artistic #exhibition #art #arts #artsy #arte #fineart #modernart #artwork #artoftheday #art_spotlight #artgallery #Welsh #AlanPerry #artcollector #MOMA #lfw #swansea #abstractart @alan_perry_swansea #gonetoosoon #epitaph #memories #writer #poet #irreplaceable

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user21340 · 3 years

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the world in her arms

(i don’t own this gif or characters used in this fic)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you and natasha have always had quite a flirty and sarcastic relationship. both of you develop feelings for one another but you both are clueless to what the other feels until nat gets jealous and says something hurtful to you. will you make up (or out)?

warnings: minor angst, fluff, swearing, and a mention of death.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: omg thank you so much for 57 followers love you all 💕. sorry for the lack of content i didn’t know what to write and had almost no new ideas. also i’m a youngin and worked my first 8 hr day yesterday so your girl was exhausted and i have finals coming up soon. k thank you for coming to my ted talk, enjoy!

also this song doesn’t relate to the story at all but it’s underrated imo and also sorry for the weird pov changes throughout the story.

“Hey y/l/n! Where are you headed?” Natasha yells from the kitchen while I’m standing in the living room on our shared floor.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Nat.” I say with a smirk.

“Yeah matter of fact I would.” she retorts.

“Chill, I’m just headed to train some recruits with Clint. But don’t miss me too much, I'll be back in a few hours, Natty.” You blow a kiss her way, and she just rolls her eyes partially from the kiss and the use of her nickname but you see a faint pink tint sitting atop of her cheeks before she turns away.

I’ve been training these recruits with Clint for a couple hours and my session is nearing an end. Something I’ve picked up on today is how touchy and how dumb these recruits are acting just for me to correct their form. I don’t have time for this shit I think as this girl has me correct her jab form for what has to be the fifth time this hour.

Non readers pov

Natasha actually does start to miss you because of how bored she is due to the larger training room being occupied for these recruits. She heads down to see if you are wrapping up yet and see if you’d like to grab dinner with her somewhere. She arrives at the training room and heads to the back room where there is a large one way mirror. Natasha, having nothing better to do, watches Clint and yourself interact with these seemingly clueless recruits.

Minutes pass and Natasha honestly likes seeing your frustration every time a recruit asks you a stupid question or something you’d already answered for the hundredth time this session. That is until she sees this handsy recruit keep asking you to correct your form which she sees you fake a smile at and happily correct it. As if Natasha isn’t jealous already she sees you release a genuine large laugh at something a recruit says. Not being able to withstand witnessing anymore of this behavior from you directed towards anyone else except her. Natasha then storms off into the living room.

Readers pov

I was nearing the end of this session when a recruit comes up behind me and asks, “Soooo, is it true that you and Clint are like a thing?” he asks with no trace of humor or sarcasm on his face. I just bust out laughing because one, everyone or at least almost everyone who knows about The Avengers knows that I’m 100% only interested in women and two, CLINT? I mean he is a great guy and all but I’ll never forget the time I went into a diner to have breakfast with him and the waitress assumed he was my grandfather.

twenty long minutes later...

The living room is lively and everyone seems to strike up a conversation with one another. I decide to strike up a conversation with Natasha who is weirdly acting cold all of a sudden.

“Oh my god! You know what I just remembered the other day? My mom used to-“

“Shut up, y/n/n. I don’t care and I don’t think anyone does at the moment.” she exclaims with a small smirk thinking you’ll detect her harsh-morbid sarcasm.

“Oh.” you choke out, “It’s getting pretty late I-I better head to bed” my voice cracks as I mutter a small, ‘asshole’ agony laced in my voice blinking the hot tears away. I start walking towards my room but it slowly turns into a jog, then sprint. Anything to get to my room and release my sadness.

Non readers pov

The room is frozen. Everyone is staring at Natasha.

“I care.” Wanda states heading to your room because she knows you shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Jesus Nat, that was awful. You know you’ve fucked you when even I say it’s bad. Poor girl’s mom passed when she was around 10.” Tony deadpans.

“Oh my god, what have I done?” Nat says burying her head into her hands.

“I’m not too sure how you’re gonna get out of this one Nat, but you’ve gotta fix this.” Sam says.

Wanda reaches your room and hears loud yet muffled sobs while standing in the hallway. She can feel your grief rippling through her body. The only heartache she can relate to is the moment she lost Pietro which is more than an average person should feel. She knocks on the door softly yet hard enough to alert you of her presence.

Readers pov

I hear three soft knocks on the door. I quickly silence my cries and assume it is Nat. I then clear my throat as the knocking continues and muster up enough energy to speak,

“Go away” into my pillow loudly. The knocking stops but I don’t hear anyone walk away just yet.

“Y/n/n, it’s Wanda. Can you let me in please, so we can talk?” she asks, I stand up while groaning and walk towards the door. I unlock it and open it just a crack to make sure she is alone and not with a certain someone. It is pretty short-lived as Wanda pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“Oh hon, I’m sorry.” She says as she wraps me into a tight hug after closing the door behind her. I crumble into her embrace as she rubs small circles on my back. Wanda has always been such a calming figure in my life since I met her, a major part being that she can feel almost all of my anxieties that try to drown me throughout a day. She also knows how it feels to be alone which allows her to relate to my feelings, so she knows just how much missing someone who is gone for eternity hurts.

We hug for what feels like minutes but when I take a quick glance outside my window it is dark out.

“Is it true?” I rasp.

“What?” she counters.

“Y’know that no one cares. All I wanted to do was share a memory that I remembered of myself with my mom and as you know it isn’t too often that I remember these types of things and when I do I love sharing them, so she won’t ever be forgotten. It just hurts so much to be shut down talking about something you truly care about by someone you care about.” I explain while Wanda looks at me with the softest eyes I’ve ever seen while nodding her head slightly.

“Now that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I care and everyone in this compound cares about what you have to say as well as what you are feeling. You know how Natasha can be sometimes with the insensitive comments she makes before realizing what she’s doing.”

“I know but that doesn’t give her the right to j-just say stuff like that. I get how full our relationship is with banter and sarcastic comments but I really thought she was starting to like me.” I frown as Wanda just nods. That’s when exhaustion hits me like a truck.

“Wands, before I ask you this just know you can decline.” I give her a minute to protest, but she says nothing. ” Can you sleep with me?” Wanda’s eyes widen,

”Y/n/n I don’t think that is a good id-“ I realize what I just said and cut her off before things get even more uncomfortable. “Nonono, Wanda, like lay down with me not any of that gross stuff. Ew.” Wanda’s features fill with relief, and she chuckles at my childish comment about sex.

“Of course I will! You just may want to word it a little different next time.” she chuckles as you hide your face with embarrassment. We both get settled on the bed and I feel her two arms pull me towards her and I snuggle closer.

Non readers pov

Wanda slowly gets out of bed after she is sure you are fast asleep and sets off to find Nat. When she does she sees that Nat had barely moved from where she last saw her still with her face in her hands.

“Nat. I know you think you really screwed up, which you did, but it’s y/n/n. You can’t go on without telling her how you feel about her.”

“Wanda, you can’t just look in my mind! We’ve talked about this!”

“Romanoff you know I’m one to keep my promises, so I’d never look without your permission. Maybe if you turned down the volume of your thoughts a few decibels I wouldn’t have heard anything. Also, are you ready that oblivious to the fact the whole team knows you two are like little lovesick puppies for one another when you two aren’t attached by the hip.” she explains, “Now, stop moping around and apologize at least.”

“You’re right, Wands, wish me luck. I hope she can forgive me.”

Natasha gets up and races towards your room. She didn’t want to wait so long to talk to you and apologize, but she thought you wouldn’t want to speak to her after what she’d said.

Similarly, to Wanda’s entrance, Natasha softly knocks on your door enough to wake you even out of your semi-deep sleep.

Readers pov

I jump at the knocks on the door and am confused to see Wanda is no longer beside me.

“Wanda you don’t have to knock, you know that.” I sigh out.

“It isn’t Wanda.” a voice you are able to recognize as Nat sheepishly speaks.

“Oh, what do you need?” I ask, all the heartbreak and ache coming back when I hear the voice I’m usually excited to listen to, as if her speech is my favorite song.

“Can we talk? I need to apologize.”

“Sure,” I softly reply.

Non readers pov

Nat opens the door once she has your permission and sees your usual strong, confident frame look small and fragile. Her heart breaks at the sight of you so broken and in pain because of her own actions. Not to mention your tear stained cheeks when you look towards her. It is silent for a minute or so before you throw your head back onto your pillow staring at the ceiling. This awakens something in Natasha for an unknown reason.

Readers pov

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I know that sorry doesn’t cut it for the amount of hurt I’ve caused you all because I was jealous but I hope we can rebuild what we had but it totally is okay if you don’t want to even though I would love another chance with yo-“

“Nat, calm down. I’m not going to sit here and say I’m fine with what you said because truth be told I love sharing memories of my family when I remember them with you. Not only because I trust you but because I think I care for you and love you more than friends should. I just hope what you said is meaningless or else that is when we can’t rebuild what we had.”

“No y/n/n, I didn’t mean any of it. It was just in the heat of the moment because I saw you laughing at something a recruit said when I was going to ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with me. So, I stormed off like a child and said hurtful things to mask my selfishness because I want you to be mine and mine only.”

“Oh my god Nat. You can’t be serious, I was laughing at something a recruit said because he assumed Clint and I were going out.” Nat bursts out laughing.

“See? Anyone who was told that who knew me would just die of laughter on the spot.” I say as I glance her way while patting the place beside me on my bed. She accepts.

“So you actually like me?” you hopefully ask.

“Possibly depending on if those feelings are reciprocated.”

“They are.” I say.

“Good. Can I also say how sorry I am for saying that to-“ I cut her off but placing a quick peck to her soft lips.

“Uh, uh, uh” I tut, “I don’t want to hear any more apologies come out of that mouth. Could you just hold me?” Natasha is still dumbfounded by the little kiss.

“Of course.” Nat complies pressing your back to her front as she wraps her long toned arms around your frame. I hum at the contact.

At this moment Nat realizes there is no place she’d rather be as she feels like she has the world in her arms.

#natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #Spotify

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yoonpobs · 3 years

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who's the boss | jhs

pairing: jung hoseok x oc

genre: fluff, slight enemies to lovers, boss!hobi, pa!oc

warnings: like one moment of suggestive content, confessing but no real confessions, jimin is your annoying best friend

words: 4, 663

summary: valentine's day with your stupid (hot) boss

“You look miserable.”

Jimin snickers when he walks past your slouched body across your desk, ensuring that you saw the mocking look he gives you when you glare at him.

“Please tell our boss that.” You mutter under your breath, attempting to avoid the mountains of work that sat in front of you.

“You’re his assistant—you out of all people should know that he’s a force to be reckoned with.” Jimin points out, slamming a new pile of folders on your desk.

You gape at him, observing the unforgiving amount of work that now occupies both your desk and time; and Jimin only offers you a half-hearted shrug before patting you on the shoulder.

“Mr Jung wants it by tonight,” Jimin lets you know as he begins to walk off.

The deadline has you snapping your head rapidly to his retreating figure as you quickly stand up to call for him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You exasperate, “Jimin—there’s no way I can get this done by tonight let alone this week!”

Jimin doesn’t even turn around when he shrugs, as if to tell you that it was your problem to deal with.

You growl, helplessly staring at the work that scatters your desk before your eyes narrow to the office next to yours, doors shut tight.

Before you can think twice, blinded by pure anger, you storm towards the secluded room; ignoring the stares from your co-workers, and a few sighs that you can tell is coming from Jungkook knowing that you were going to piss your boss off yet again.

You don’t knock, long past that level of formality with your boss as you slam the door open, eyes narrowed intimidatingly at the unsuspecting victim of your rage, who just looks up from his laptop with a raised brow.

“____, are you already done with—”

“Jung Hoseok.” You hiss, interrupting him as you shut the door behind you, rolling up your sleeves as if that would intimidate the man; fully aware that he towered over you, even in heels.

He slowly brings his laptop to a semi-closed position and leans back into his seat, arms carefully folded across his chest in a way that makes him look intimidating yet commanding.

It was a pity that your boss was such a douche because he was truly one of the most beautiful men that you’ve had the pleasure (or displeasure) of meeting in your entire life. Hoseok had the charm of a man that held himself with confidence and assurance, knowing that he was likely the hotshot of every room he walked into.

However, that also meant that he had a justifiable inflated ego that you were on the receiving end off, purely because you were hired as his personal assistant and not some other poor soul.

“That is my name, yes.”

You stomp towards his desk and slam your hands down onto the expensive wood, making sure your eyes are locked onto his stoic expression.

Momentarily, you see his eyes glance down to your chest where a decent amount of cleavage is likely being displayed to your boss, but it goes as quickly as it comes when he returns his gaze onto your blazing one.

“Are you fucking crazy?” You snap.

He blinks at you, hands clutched together as he leans forward on his elbows, face getting impossibly closer to your own that you have half the mind to put some distance between the two of you to preserve the beating of your heart.

“Is that any way to speak to your boss?” He cocks his head to a side, a teasing smirk dawning on his face.

“Cut the shit,” You hiss, “In what goddamn universe did you think it was justifiable for you to give me a month’s worth of work and expect it to be done by tonight?!”

He sighs, leaning back into his chair and man spreads in a way that you usually would hate, but of course, Hoseok made it look undeniably hot, and inviting.

“Didn’t I hire you because of your work ethic?”

You scoff in disbelief, arms folding across your chest.

“This is not about work ethic, and you know it. You have some secret vendetta against me and I see through your shit.” You accuse.

“Do I, Ms ____?” He says in a voice so low that it makes you stutter in your response.

“You tell me, Mr Jung.” You retort.

He observes your expression for a moment, taking in the way that you were breathing heavily and how your cheeks were a little flushed from your rant. Hoseok smirks at you because even though you were a lot to deal with, and had a tongue sharper than anyone he’s known, you were adorable.

Just like a kitten that was waiting to be tamed.

“Very well then,” He claps his hands together and opens his laptop again.

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for his next set of words. You recognise the slight gleam in your eyes and that causes an unsettling feeling to develop in your stomach.

“Work overtime.” He says simply as if it was the most obvious solution.

You gape at him, baffled at his blunt suggestion.

“What? That’s your solution? To work overtime?” You snap.

“I don’t see a better option knocking at our door’s here.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

You grit your jaw and feel your eye twitch at his indifference, and you think about risking getting reported to HR, or even getting fired just so you could reach over and strangle the hell out of your insufferable boss.

“Give me an extension.” You all but demand.

“No.”

You’re about to leave with your dues until he answers you, and you snap your head to look at him incredulously.

“What do you mean no?” You hiss.

“It’s exactly what it means, Ms ____. I want the documents sorted through and filed by tonight. Even I’m working overtime and I’m the boss.” He smirks, eyes still not straying away from his laptop.

“Hoseok you don’t understand. I can’t.” His name slips out involuntarily, and you almost miss the way a smile teases his lips when you opt for his actual name than the nicknames you’ve resorted to.

“Oh? Did you have plans tonight?” He pries, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He knew. He knew what today was and gave you a shit ton of work.

You clench your jaw and give him a curt nod.

“Yes. I do.”

He hums under his breath, glancing down to type something onto his laptop before shutting it completely.

“Well—cancel them. You have plans with me now.” He says.

You choke on your spit at his calm declaration as you splutter to find a response.

“I can’t just cancel a date—!”

You snap your mouth shut when his eyebrows shoot to his hairline in a mischievous manner as if seeing you flustered was his favourite sight to behold.

“As your boss, I think I call the shots here, don’t I?” He pushes himself off his chair to walk towards you, height and presence imposing on your retreating figure.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You spit when he engulfs your space with his presence.

The navy grey suit he chose to wear today flattered his physique wonderfully, showcasing his lean and long limbs as well as his built. It didn’t help that he styled his hair with it parted by the side, his forehead on full display—as if to mark his territory as the most intimidating (and handsome) person at the office.

“Call me what you wish,” He shrugs, a smirk on his face, “We’ll have a lot of fun tonight, won’t we?”

You’d be lying if you didn’t have butterflies in your stomach.

“Mina—tell the blind date you set me up on that I can’t make it tonight,” You sigh, phone between your shoulder and your ear as you type away at your computer.

You hear Mina whine on the other end about how she thought the guy she set you up with was a perfect match for you. Truthfully, you didn’t even want to go on the date in the first place; but Mina said that you needed to get over the hots you felt for your boss even if he was the most infuriating person in every room he’s in.

“You’re not lying to get out of this, right? Do you really need to work overtime?” She whines.

You sigh.

“Do you remember who I work for? Of course I need to work overtime.” You mutter.

“How am I going to tell Jae?” She complains, and you briefly hear a thud on her end; probably signalling the fact that she flopped onto a surface in despair.

You snort and narrow your eyes to get a better view of the details on your spreadsheet, ensuring all facts and figures were aligned before saving it and proceeding to the next set of work you needed to finish.

“You’ll find a way,” You tell her, “I need to go. I have ten more documents to sort through and they’re all due tonight.”

Mina blows a virtual kiss for you and bids you goodbye, saying to kick your boss in the ass for her.

The moment you hang up, you see Jimin and Jungkook walk pass your desk with their bags over their shoulders, stopping by you to offer a sympathetic smile.

“Have fun working overtime ____,” Jungkook says, and it’s sincere enough to make you give him a half-hearted smile.

“Work on sucking your boss’ dick too.” Jimin snickers, mimicking the action inside of his cheek as you glare at him, chuckling a piece of crumpled paper in his direction.

“Jungkook—tell Taehyung I said hi,” You smile sweetly at him, then narrowing your eyes into slits at Jimin, “Jimin, I hope you puke out all the chocolates you’re going to binge on tonight.”

He gasps, hands resting on his chest in mock offence as he waves you goodbye, heading out as you return the gesture with your longest finger.

There the last bit of your co-workers that left the office, and now it was just you—and Hoseok—but he was cooped up in his office, for whatever reason it may be.

You sigh, cracking your knuckles forward as you attempt to race through all the documents that needed to be sorted through as fast as you can so you could go home and binge-watch all the romantic comedies in your watchlist.

The quote time flies sits prettily on the tip of your tongue when you glance at the clock on your table to tell you that it was half an hour till midnight, meaning that you slaved away to work for an additional 6 hours.

You huff, at least thankful that you were finally done.

Even with Hoseok’s words saying that he’d work overtime as well, you were sure he was just in his office relaxing while you did his hefty work. The thought makes you frown as you clean up your workspace, ensuring that it’s in a pristine condition before you head back.

“_____?”

Hoseok’s voice peeks out from his office and you stop your ministrations to turn your head to look at him, a few stray strands of hair falling by the side of your face as you do so.

Hoseok can’t help but appreciate how relaxed you look, a juxtaposition from the usual prim and proper persona you took on during work. Your hair was tied in a messy bun, and a few buttons of your blouse were undone to give yourself some room to breathe.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow, beginning to get irritated with the way his eyes unabashedly observe you.

You have the words on your tongue already, preparing to cuss him out with your mouth and your fist if he gave you any more work to do.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks.

You raise an eyebrow, watching his figure lean against the frame of the door.

“No, I haven’t. I was too busy finishing up the documents for you, remember?” You bite, can’t be helping the snark that your tongue releases.

A small twinge of a grin appears on his face as he cocks his head to his office, gesturing you to enter.

“I have some food. Do, join me.” He asks.

You blink at him, hands still clutching the last bit of your belongings as you mull over his proposition. While you and Hoseok worked close and hand in hand in business operations, you managed to have professional boundaries with him (which didn’t include the fact you cussed him out every five minutes). So, for him, the poster image of uptight and professionalism; with the occasional blunder, to invite you for a small meal outside of business?

You try to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster.

“Ah … it’s fine—I’ll probably heat some leftovers up—” You shake your head to deny.

But as you were caught up in a daze, Hoseok had seemed to have made his way to your desk, body positioned in a way that locks you in so that you had no other way to escape.

“Nonsense.” He tuts, grinning at you with his award-winning smile and you find it very hard to find him distasteful when he has the ability to reduce you to mush.

You notice that he mirrors your appearance in the sense that he looks far more casual than he usually does during work hours. He’s abandoned his blazer, and all he’s left in is his dress-shirt that does absolutely nothing in hiding his figure and slacks that just accentuates his waist even more. The fact that he also has his sleeves rolled up makes you more flustered than you’d like.

“It’s late—” You try to make an excuse, but he’s tugging you by your wrist to follow him and you have no objection on your tongue when you’re in his office.

Somehow, you've been in the room a million times, the second person that spends the most time in here besides Hoseok himself, yet tonight feels different.

The context of sharing a small meal with him seems almost illegal as if you were committing a crime.

“When did you even order this?” You mutter, when you realise his desk was already cleaned of all work-related stuff and only left with the brown packaged bags of food.

“Of course you didn’t notice,” He teases, gesturing for you to take a seat on the chair next to him.

You roll your eyes, bowing your head slightly to thank him when he passes you a sandwich, and you’re pleasantly surprised to know that it was your favourite order from a place you frequented during your lunch breaks.

“How did you—?”

“I’m not that much of an asshole to not know your likes and dislikes ____.” He jokes.

You purse your lips, flustered because while you and Hoseok bantered back and forth, and you were definitely tougher on your own boss than you were to your colleagues, you knew deep down it was an act of self-preservation to convince your own heart that keeping him away was safer for you.

“I didn't mean it like that …” You mumble, munching on your food.

Your eyes are too focused on the sandwich that you miss the fond expression Hoseok gives you, opting to just observe small bites that you were taking.

Eventually, you do notice that Hoseok isn’t eating but paying full attention to you, chin resting on his palm as he blatantly stares at you. When your eyes look up to meet his own, you flush and look away immediately, ears burning red under the dim light as you attempt to cover it up with a cough.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He shrugs.

“I had my dinner hours ago. This is for you.” He gestures to the food, “You know I despise these things. They’re so pretentious.”

You gape at him with an open mouth.

“Then why are you still—” It seems like Hoseok is dead-set on not allowing you to finish most of your sentences tonight when he responds before you can finish.

“I was waiting for you.” The confession knocks the wind out of your chest as you look at him with wide eyes, heart beating faster when he nonchalantly admits that he was cooped up in his office—waiting for you?

“You didn’t have to do that Hoseok …” You mumble, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear bashfully—a habit you only do when you’re embarrassed.

He snorts.

“A thank you would be nice, sweets.” He leans forward, face inches closer to yours as you yelp and leans back into your chair.

The term of endearment doesn’t fall deaf on your ears as you blush even harder. You want to curse at yourself because you’re much stronger than this, you’ve trained for years to not let your feelings show in front of Hoseok because well … he was the CEO and you were his personal assistant.

While there was no strict ban on dating your boss, you had ethics and principles of your own that somehow convinced you that it would’ve been messy. And messy it would be because you worked with him on every single project, communicated information to him and basically was his confidant—purely transactional—so you wouldn’t risk your career just to be with him.

Especially when you didn’t know if he felt the same way.

Even when he looks at you like that.

“I’m waiting …” He sing-songs, grinning at you.

You roll your eyes, looking away when you mumble:

“Thank you.”

He seems satisfied as he leans back into his chair, gesturing you to finish your meal.

The sandwich was delicious, as always, but once you took the last bite you were starting to wonder if Hoseok had really just waited hours, and now to just have you eat in front of him.

“Thank you for the meal, Hoseok.” You say politely.

He eyes you for a second, until his eyes glance to the side of your head—then back at you.

“It’s five minutes before midnight.” He points out.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“… okay?”

“So … aren’t you going to wish me?” He pries.

The cue falls over your head, until you see and feel Hoseok, cage you in your chair.

You let out an eep at the sudden proximity, flushed at the way Hoseok grins at you all suave-like.

“Wish you?” You squeak, “W-What do you mean?”

He sighs, resting his palms on the side of your chair, looking at you with a fond expression that you were sure your eyes were deceiving you with.

“I dunno. Isn’t today a special day?” He teases, and he revels in the fact that you’re turning into a tomato under his scrutiny.

“I-Is it? I didn’t—I didn’t know that …” You gulp.

Hoseok takes the leap of faith and reaches out to pat your head, as you freeze under the touch.

“There were flyaways.” He smirks.

You feel like dying because of how close he is to you, and you know that he won’t let you go unless you say the words he’s tried to pull out from you. So, you swallow your pride, and honestly, gather all the courage you have in you to wish him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hoseok.” You mumble, eyes avoiding his.

He doesn’t do anything for a split second, and you feel like a fool. You’re about to push him away until he moves—shuffling between his drawers to pull out—

“Flowers?” You cock your head to the side when he hands them over to you.

They were a beautiful arrangement, meticulously curated with the hands of someone that wanted perfection. It was very like Hoseok, but also included all of your favourite flowers and colours that you can’t help but imagine how cohesive the two of you would be.

You try to shake out of your delusions because you’re still processing the fact that Hoseok had handed you a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers you’ve ever seen and received.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, _____.” He smiles, and it lacks the usual mirth that he carries when he’s out to poke at you. This time, his smile is kind, warm—and longing.

“W-What is this for …?” You admire the arrangement, and it feels heavy in your palms. A testament to the effort put in, as well as how expensive it must’ve been.

“For being a great personal assistant,” He says.

It’s like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you when he says those words. You blink up at him, then you scowl—shoving him away from you as you abandon the flowers on the table. Your heart was so hopeful as if you had managed to understand what was going on in Hoseok’s heart—but he reminded you of who you were and the world between the two of you shattered.

“Hey—hey. Where are you going?” Hoseok seems panicked but you don’t pick up on much as you hastily try to leave.

“Home, Hoseok.” You say curtly.

He’s faster than you when he grabs your elbow to spin you around to face him.

“Do you not like it?” He furrows his eyebrows.

You glare at him, and all the irritation in you returns when he genuinely looks clueless.

“No, Hoseok. I fucking love it.” You try to pull away, but he’s stronger than you.

“Then what’s the problem?” He huffs.

You narrow your eyes at him and even though he both makes you want to rip your hair out and makes your heart feel funny—he genuinely looks confused.

“You!” You yell, shoving at his chest as he just looks at you quizzically.

“You’re my problem Jung Hoseok,” You point a firm finger into his chest, “You’re always making me do your work for you and teasing me until I want to rip your hair out—then you do this … whatever this is, with the flowers and the stares you’re giving me and you—and you expect me to be okay?”

He blinks at you.

“You’re so confusing Hoseok! Like God—first, you look at me with those eyes of yours and expect my heart not to flutter? Is that it? Do you just like embarrassing me like this? You stupid son of a motherfucking bitch—!”

He really needed to shut you up, and granted, it wasn’t the best way to do it. But there was something oddly endearing about the way you were yelling his ear off that he needed to just close the distance.

Hoseok grabs you by the waist with a firm hand on your cheek when he leans down to kiss you.

The kiss is explosive, both in pent up frustrations and longing all at once and you’re both confused and relieved when you feel the plush of his lips against your own. You forget what you were saying when he holds you like this—close.

Hoseok looked like a magnificent kisser—you theorised—and your hypothesis was proven with the way he’s gentle yet assertive with the way his body moulds against your own.

You whine when he pulls away, your hands clutching at the front of his dress shirt. Only when you see his flushed cheeks, and swollen lips do you remember what was happening.

“_____—”

You punch him in the stomach.

Hard.

He grunts, doubling over as you glare at him.

“Are you insane?” You shriek.

He wheezes, clutching at his abdomen.

“You could’ve just told me you didn’t like me!” He snaps, shooting you a venomous glare.

Your mouth falls open as you give him one of your own venomous stares.

“Are you stupid?” You throw your hands into the air, “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“I was trying to be romantic!” He grits out.

You huff, and you soften for a moment to see him still holding onto his stomach.

You quietly reach out to him, holding him by the elbow like you did something wrong (punching him in the stomach) and look up at him with apologetic eyes.

“Does it really hurt?” You meekly ask.

"No. I'm on the floor because it's comfortable," He deadpans.

You pout as you flush a pretty shade of red.

He’s about to retort when he sees how guilty you look, then he sighs; reaching an arm around your shoulder to bring you into an embrace against his chest.

“It’d hurt a lot more if you were rejecting me.”

You scoff, leaning your cheek against his chest when you feel the movement of his chest with his deep breaths.

“Why couldn’t you ask me out like a normal person?” You complain.

He rolls his eyes.

“You’re not a conventional person to ask out.”

You narrow your eyes at him, and he wants to kiss you again because you’re the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

So he does.

This time, you’re not as shocked, but it’s still as pleasant as when he first kissed you. You lean into his embrace, taking the initiative to run your hands across his shoulders and into his hair.

“We could’ve been doing this way longer if you weren’t such an annoying brat.” He mumbles against your lips.

The moment is broken when he returns to his normal self, but your heart still remains.

“Me? Annoying? You know what’s annoying—the fact that I spent six hours on Valentine’s Day sorting through your stupid documents because you wanted to hold me, hostage, here—”

Hoseok purses his lips as you progress through your rant, but in all honesty, you looked like a little rabbit that was frustrated than anything else, and all he feels in endearment.

He lets you have your moment, though—because he likes you like this—honest, unforgiving and so irrevocably yourself.

“—like, romantic? Please, Hoseok—you have zero romantic bones in your body and I’m pretty sure you’re 100% annoying than human—”

He pouts when you resort to insulting him, and he reaches for your cheeks to squeeze them in his palms so you’d stop.

“Okay enough of that, my feelings are hurt.” He pouts, “But … I’ll let you off the hook cause you’re so cute.”

You glare at him, cheeks still squished together like a chipmunk.

“I hathe eberything avout you.” You say through a muffled breath.

He sighs.

He releases your cheeks and begins packing up the trash, and you’re confused at the way his touch suddenly disappears and disappointed because you weren’t close to him anymore.

“Hobi?” You meekly call out, and he swears his heart stutters at the nickname.

“Can you stop being cute for one second and let me clean up?” He groans, shoving the stray paper bags away into the dustbin below his desk.

You blush even harder, keening under the praise.

You twiddle with your thumbs, awkwardly hovering by his desk as you watch him. You’d try to help, but there was something so utterly domestic and … homey about the way that Hoseok tuts you off when you reach out to pick something up.

Once he’s satisfied (because as annoying as he was, you applauded him for his neatness), he throws his blazer over his shoulder effortlessly, and shuts all the lights off, saying nothing more besides walking to the door.

You eye him curiously, wondering why he hasn’t uttered a single word yet, but as you’re about to open your mouth, he turns around to look at you over his shoulder with a raised brow.

“Are you coming?”

You tilt your head to the side.

“W-Where?”

“With me,” He shrugs his shoulders, leaning against the wooden frame of his door as you feel your heartbeat grow faster at how effortlessly good he looks under the dim light.

“I think I owe you a belated Valentine’s Day celebration, no?”

Oh.

#bts fic #bts fics #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts jhope #bts hobi #bts hoseok #hoseok x reader #JHOPE x reader #hobi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #hoseok imagine #hoseok fic #hobi fluff #hobi imagine #jhope fluff #jhope imagine

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sohlaelwaylly · 4 years

Text

Summarizing some new points from the Sporkful 'Reckoning at Bon Appetit' podcast episode ft reporter Rachel Premack, former staffer Nikita Richardson, and current BA assistant editor Sohla El-Waylly

- Sohla had already heard about the race issues at BA but questioned them because of the YouTube videos and gaby's journey from a dish washer to test kitchen manager (+ the fact that she was also featured in videos and got opportunities). She sees now that was BS

- BA treats poc as sidekicks to pull in to appear diverse

- Sohla would try to have a meeting with producers once a month to push diverse food but would get turned down

- Multiple staffers say that one of the biggest obstacles of getting prominent poc and diverse food featured was Matt Duckor, Condé Nast's head of video, who earned a bonus based on the performance of BA videos (so "the more clicks, the more he stood to gain")

- "[Duckor] was the problem to be honest, he was a much bigger problem than Adam."

- Duckor only wanted Priya to cook indian food

- Given that she had to make videos at home, Sohla was also the one who had to set everything up (lighting, sound, videos, etc) and every week she brought up payment for her work but Duckor would lie straight to her face and refuse for MONTHS

- BA promised to hire a full time black person to be in their videos SIX MONTHS AGO but never followed through

- When Rapo held the zoom meeting to "apologize" for the brown face (through only a couple of sentences), Sohla literally told him she wanted him to resign, AND THEN other people started to speak up and agree

-The contract Duckor offered Sohla AN HOUR after she posted publicly on Instagram about the pay inequality (which Duckor had been pushing back for MONTHS) included backpay but she refused to sign it until everyone who shoots videos for the test kitchen is compensated.

- Molly sent Sohla a really heartfelt email acknowledging her complacency but Brad seems to have JUST FOUND OUT racism is real

- There's a small group (of 7 people) who are working to rebuild and address these issues. They also made sure that of the few poc who are on that team, they are always present ("in that room")

- The original statement from BA was much stronger and concrete but they had to negotiate with corporate, HR and PR.

- Internally they are holding themselves to the original statement but for legal reasons it didn't go through. THEY WERE UP UNTIL 11PM fighting over words

- Demands: increase pay for poc on staff ie. everyone on the team makes living wage

- Sohla's experienced one of the highest highs of her life when Adam resigned, Duckor resigned and the business insider article came out. She believes things may finally start to change

- Sohla has a new video series concept she hopes to host for Bon Appetit once she starts getting paid for her work (!!!!!!!!!)

#I know that I just reblogged all those quotes but here's a handy list of the new things we've found out with this podcast episode!#bon appetit test kitchen #sohla el waylly #Sporkful reckoning at BA #Nikita Richardson #Rachel Premack #I'm kind of just posting this for personal reference lmao I hope it's helpful to you as well #Sohla and poc deserve better #100*#Podcasts #500*#shush

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captain-tch · 4 years

Text

Technical Difficulties

You work in the IT department and help the Finance manager with his faulty laptop. After that, he keeps finding reasons to talk to you.

"Good morning you're through to the IT department, my name is Y/N. How can I help?" You recited your script, unaware of the life changing effect this was going to have on your life.

"Hi, Y/N. My computer keeps glitching - can you help?"

You nearly dropped the phone. Erwin Smith. The Finance manager. Asking for your help. Anxiety started building in your throat. Why did the most attractive man in the company have to ask for your help?

Your thoughts drifted to his tall, muscular stature, and his piercing blue eyes. He was the posterboy for attractiveness. From the small interactions you'd had with him (if you class him opening a door for you as an interaction), his disarming smile rendered you speechless. It wasn't his beauty that made you freeze the moment he flashed his teeth; it was the sincerity, and the kindness behind it.

"Hello?" Erwin's silky voice echoed through the phone. You swore you could have died of embarassment.

"Hi Erwin, apologies for that." You cleared your throat, hoping you didn't sound as nervous as you felt. Your dry throat was not helping at all. "How long have you been experiencing these issues?"

He paused. You could imagine his blonde eyebrows pulling together in thought. "For the past 20 minutes."

Relying on your internal script, you whittled off a few questions to him. You asked him if he had tried restarting it, tried running updates and if he had noticed any other issues with the machine. From what he said, it sounded like it wasn't a problem you could fix over the phone.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry Erwin, but I'm going to need to have the laptop to fully understand whats going on. Have you got another way of working in the mean time?"

Thankfully he did, so you didn't need to set up a loan laptop. You breathed a sigh of relief. At least you had less chances of making a fool of yourself in front of him.

"Great, do you want me to come pick it up or are you free to drop it off?" You crossed your fingers, praying he wouldn't ask to drop it off.

"I can drop it off. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Double fuck.

Just like that the call ended. Panic overwhelmed you. Glancing at the chaos otherwise known as your desk, you started sweeping god knows what into your drawers, paying no mind to the loud bangs as some screwdrivers fell.

"What in the ever loving hell are you doing?" Levi asked, his eyes narrowing on you. Being the only other person in the IT department you two had grown close, but even you struggled to read him sometimes.

You brushed his question off, laughing lightly at the engineer as he shrugged, turning back to the task at hand. He wasn't the type of pester you for the answer. You looked at his desk in envy - spotless. Jealously ripped through you. How can you be an engineer and have a clean desk? The very thought baffled you.

Jumping to your feet, you quickly checked the clock, noting how you had a minute to run to the bathroom to check you had nothing in your teeth.

Shit.

Not enough time.

Desperate, you spun around, grabbing Levi by the shoulders and fixing his attention on you. A scowl instantly etched itself onto his face. "What are you doing?"

"Do I have anything on my face?"

"Yes."

Wide eyed, you stared at him. "Is it noticeable?"

"Very."

"Where is it Levi! I don't have time for this, he'll be here any minute."

Realisation dawned on his face. "Dreamboat is coming here?"

"Levi!" You snapped, gripping his shoulders tighter. "Please tell me what is on my face."

"A lot actually. Your eyes, your mouth, your nose. All very noticeable."

You could have slapped the man. If it didn't cause a HR fiasco you would've. Clenching your teeth together, you stared at him straight in the eyes, your gaze burning. He slightly flinched under the intensity.

"Do I have anything in my teeth?"

Levi opened his mouth to answer, a knock ringing out at the door. You squealed, begging for Levi to answer so you could at the last minute make yourself presentable.

With a shit eating grin on his face, Levi shouted, "Come in!"

You were going to murder him.

Jumping as far away from Levi as humanly possible, you tried to make yourself look busy. Your panicked hands grabbed a pencil, and in a manic thought you pushed it behind your ear.

Nothing says busy more than a pencil tucked around your ear.

Erwin opened the door, entering the room. You felt sweat instantly break on your forehead. This was going to be the longest period of time you had been with him and holy hell you were nervous. Not only that, but speaking to him? Your palms grew damp at the prospect.

Glancing between you and Levi, Erwin raised a brow. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

You laughed really loud, at such a high pitch you're shocked you didn't deafen everyone in the radius. "Don't be silly. You got your laptop with you?"

"Right here." He lifted his arms, showing the machine in his hands. Grateful that he didn't notice the awkwardness, you gestured for him to put it on the side, quickly slipping away from the role of love sick girl to engineer. You wheeled your chair over from your desk, apologising as it spun slightly out of control and a wheel hit his foot. He smiled, waving it off.

You powered the laptop on, sliding the machine in front Erwin so he could type in his password. Your breath caught in your throat momentarily as he reached around you, fingers moving over the keys with ease. You could smell his earthy cologne from here.

He was so close that if you moved your head to the right slightly, your face would be in close proximity to his. A tickle of his breath warmed your cheek.

He froze, about to enter the password as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. You darted your eyes downward, fingers playing with the power cord.

Taking back the laptop, you instantly noticed the issue. The display was bouncing up and down, all of the words and images blurring. You blinked rapidly for a moment. "Bloody hell I think I'm having a seizure."

Erwin's throaty laugh sounded from behind you. You nearly jumped. "That's what I thought too."

"You say its only been happening for about twenty minutes?" You tried to ignore the jolting of the screen, typing and trying to diagnose the issue. He nodded. "Was that when you turned it on or had you been using it for a while beforehand?"

"Just turned it on."

"Hm." You pondered, your mind instantly jumping to a conclusion. Hands flying over the keyboard, you started an update of the drivers.

"What are you doing?"

"Updating the drivers on your laptop, if that fails, try updating the BIOS. If something isn't updated, machines can do loads of weird shit."

You waited a few minutes, the update finally complete. Quickly restarting the machine, you cheered as the machine turned on with no video display issues whatsoever.

"Wow, it was that simple?"

"Sometimes, not always."

Erwin rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Don't be daft." You resisted the urge to clamp your hand over your mouth, praying what you said didn't come across as rude. "You weren't to know. It was a pleausre to help."

Smiling, Erwin thanked you once again, eyes darting to you occassionally before leaving the room with a resounding click of the door. A sigh of relief coursed it's way through your body.

Thankfully, you hadn't made too much of an embarassment of yourself.

In the back of the room, a poor imitation of your voice left Levi's lips. "It was a pleasure to help."

You snatched the pencil from behind your ear, tossing it in Levi's direction. He rapidly ducked under the desk, the pencil never even reaching near it's mark. Despite the cold words leaving your mouth, a laugh was slipping past your lips. "Fuck off Levi."

Over the next few weeks, you had an influx of technical support calls. All of them from Erwin Smith.

Sometimes you'd go down to his desk because he was having "power issues" - the power cord wasn't connected. He once came to your office claiming the files from his laptop had disappeared - he was looking in the wrong place.

After a while you started to get the sense that he wasn't experiencing technical difficulties - you were struggling to believe that someone could be that technically inept - and believed that maybe he was looking for an excuse to talk to you. It made sense. Every time you helped him he made an effort to speak to you. And not in the make small talk way, but in a meaningful way. He knew a lot more about you than you realised you'd let slip. He knew your birthday, had a glimpse of what your childhood was like, and even knew about your family. Soon, your hands didn't clam up when speaking to him. If anything, your heart raced in excitement at the thought you could speak with him.

"Are you two going to date already or what?" You laughed at Levi's remark, shaking your head. You were glad you had a PC in front of you, focusing on taking it apart to hopefully salvage some parts for your home project. The dust had accumulated inside from many years of being unopened, but the parts were mostly salvageable.

A knock at the door interrupted your conversation. "Can you grab that Levi?"

Your eyes caught sight of a hard drive, its blocky shape captured inside a caddy. With a victorious smile on your lips, you started unscrewing the screws, loosening the caddy to pry the hard drive free.

He huffed, standing up from his desk and opening the door. "Oh Erwin. What a surprise."

Your body jolted before you could process your reaction. Your hands gripped the hard drive and pulled jerkily, a cry escaping your lips as you fell back a few steps, the hard drive gripped in your hands. Levi snorted, disappearing behind his desk. It was the closest to privacy he could give you two.

"You okay Y/N?" Erwin asked, a concerned look worrying his features.

"Yeah I am." Tossing the hard drive to the desk, you wiped a hand across your forehead, unknowingly swiping grease over your face. "How can I help?"

"I was wondering if I could help you actually."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Okay? Help with what?"

"I'd like to buy you lunch one time."

"That's so nice of you, thank you!"

"I don't..." Erwin sighed, a light red spreading across his cheeks. "I mean I want to take you to lunch. For a date."

"Oh." From the corner of your eye you could see Levi smirking. Knowing little shit. "My lunch is in thirty minutes. I'll meet you out front."

Erwin left, a huge smile plastered on your face. The door hadn't fully shut when you heard a huge cheer roaring from Erwin's mouth, seeing him raise his fists in victory.

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith #aot fanfiction #aot x reader

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Talking to myself.”

I had no idea where this was going when I started writing this morning, but it turned out pretty interesting, so I hope you like it :).

“Wow, Amazing.”

“Yeah.”

“Amazing.

“I know right!” Dr. Katie spun in a wide circle, eyes wide as she looked around the massive convention, eyes falling over all the strange alien technology, most of which was impossible to identify without proper explanation.

Admiral Vir rested his hands on hips as he looked around with a small smile, “Yeah, you should have seen it last year. Damn, good times.”

Katie glanced over at him, “What happened last year.”

He smirked, “We forgot to bring an invention.”

She grimaced, “Oh, that must have been embarrassing.”

“Not really, I had duct tape in my bag, and managed to pass that off as our contribution to science.” A distant look passed over his face accompanied by a far away smile, “And man do aliens love duct tape.”

They came around another corner heading up the medical alley, where Krill and some of the other medical professionals were haunting, shooting quick fire questions at anyone who they thought could answer. Krill was grilling someone on the use of personal shielding devices and if, “Do they protect the wearer from their own stupidity?”

On the other side of the field Dr. Adric and a few of the Finnari from the psych department were listening to an enthusiastic Tesraki, human duo about the application of some sort of weird looking helmet. Curious, he walked up feeling Conn’s shadow pass over him as the strange floating alien joined in.

“Yes it’s psych applications could be endless.”

“You see dreams, memories, information. If the wearer just thinks of it, the helmet will augment the memory process and fill in the retrieval gaps.”

Dr adric tapped his chin, “This would be perfect for therapy.

“PRecisely what we were thinking, the applications are endless. Currently, we are working to see if we can compress the technology and turn it into an implant to give the wearer augmented memory life-long. It would pretty much be like giving some eidetic memory.”

“And what phase of testing is it in/’

There was a pause, and the human and the Tesraki rubbed their heads, “Well, it hasn’t made it to sentient testing just yet. It is very difficult to find aliens who are willing to participate in potentially dangerous studies, and the MTI has only just cleared it for human testing, but you know how hard humans are to find.”

Admiral Vir tilted his head to the side, “No human testing yet huh?” He paused and everyone turned their heads to look at him.

Sunny, who had been boredly staring down at her implant looked up now only to frown at him, “Adam.”

“Well call me your first volunteer.” He said grinning, “A pretest shouldn't be a big problem, should it?”

The two scientists looked between each other with surprise, “Are you sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. You guys are the smart people right, and I have memories, so works out for everyone.”

He stepped up onto the little dais with them against Sunny’s protest pulling his sunglasses -- a pair of aviators -- off his head and handing them to a still-protesting Sunny.

He walked over and plopped himself down in their chair, turning his head to look up at them, “Well go on, hook me up and let's get this test started.”

The two scientists stared at him with some concern and incredulity, “Well we should probably have you sign a waver first.”

He shrugged, “yeah, sure.”

Against the protestations of his crew members, he signed his name on the dotted line barely reading the contract before leaning back in the chair. Sunny snatched the contract from one of their hands and looked down to read it over, “Potential life threatening brain injury! Adam, get down from there!”

“You worry too much.” he announced sitting back in his chair, “Hook me up kids, and lets get this show on the road.”

The two scientists -- hardly believing their good fortune-- quickly got to work as Sunny continued to protest. Cold jell was applied to the contacts on the inside of the helmet. Tiny electrodes clicked from recesses inside the helmet appearing on his forehead, temples, cheeks, behind his ears and on the back of his neck.

He shivered, “Damn that’s cold.”

The Tesraki turned to boot up the machine, and his human companion crouched next to him, “Just close your eyes, and let your mind wander.”

“Already there, Doc.”

A dark tinted face covering slid down before his eyes, and he leaned back in his seat closing his eyes and trying not to think too much.

He sat there for a long time, wondering if this was ever going to work, so far he didn’t see anything, though the chair was comfortable and the darkness was rather inviting to a very stressful day. Sort of reminded him of what he was little-

*** The carpet below his bare feet was soft and squishy, poking upland between his toes as he padded quietly down the hall. Behind him, the sound of snoring accompanied his quiet escape as Thomas tossed in his sleep. Darkness pooled at the edges of the hallway, deep pools of black he was sure had to be hiding something. He sped up, his lip quivering, eyes wide as he rushed from the dark and towards the soft flickering light of the front room.

Despite his fear, he paused at the edge of the hallway, and after a few seconds of thinking very, very hard, he crawled onto his hands and knees, inching forward, trying to be as quiet as he could eyes fixed on the subtle swaying motion of momma’s rocking chair.

Across the room the TV was on, but the volume was all the way down, and the subtle blue light was nearly drowned out by the flickering tongues of fire across the room.

He pressed one hand to the carpet and immediately the rocking chair paused, “Adam, sweetheart, go back to bed.”

He paused turning to look back at the dark hallway. Tears sprung to his eyes as a sudden wave of fear gripped him. He got to his feet, and with a soft padding he raced around the side of the couch and towards a familiar silhouette.

He grabbed her leg in both of his arms resting his head against hr knee as he stared back at the dark hallway.

Momma looked down at him, her bright green eyes sparkling in the light of the fire, “Adam….” She sighed

He looked up at her eyes still filled with frightened tears

She sighed, but smiled, setting down her book “Crime and Punishment”. She reached down grabbing him under the arms and hoisting him onto her lap. He cuddled against her chest, head resting on her shoulder. She kissed the top of his head, “it is a good thing you are so cute.”

She unfolded the blanket on her lap and wrapped it around him adjusting him in her arms where they were both comfortable.

“Now go to sleep.”

His eyes drooped even as she was speaking, and he faded away.

***

He gasped in shock and surprise jolting upright in his seat

“Adam! Adam!” The mask before his eyes was flipped up and he was almost immediately blinded by light. He lifted his hands as the little pen light shone from one eye to the other.

“Adam, can you hear us.”

He waved them off, “yeah yeah, get off!”

He shook himself a bit and sat up straighter. The two scientists stared at him with wide eyes, “W….what did you see?”

“It…. it works. I remembered something from when i was just a kid maybe… two no older than three. I remember the light, the TV show my mother was watching, the book she was reading, the way the carpet felt.” He shook his head incredulous, “That is… that is amazing, let me go back in.”

They glanced at each other but shrugged and allowed him to pull the visor down over his face as he leaned back.

***

A warm wind blew over the open school grounds. A small tree gave meager shade from the sun beating down upon them. Trucks and cars in the parking lot were filled with students dressed in their school colors -- the most hideous pairing of orange white and maroon -- Some had stripes painted on their cheeks, cheering as the cars lined up for the parade. He sat, small wearing a bright green shirt, having totally forgotten what today was.

Another gust of wind kicked up, tugging at the bright blue UN flag hanging outside the school.

A group of girls ran past, and some kid putted by on his moped: Moped Manny as many called him.

The football players passed by next, all stuffed into the bed of a truck yelling and hollering at the top of their lungs. He could see the individual numbers on their hest 37, 24, 6, 19 and 14. He stood from his seat, enthusiastically waving a hand towards number fourteen, a tall, dark-haired boy, who looked more like a man than the rest of the senior class.

Jeremy spied him almost immediately waving a hand high over his head and grinning.

The Truck was speeding up, towards its spot at the front of the parade line. Jeremy locked eyes with him and motioned him over with a large, gloved hand. Feeling a sudden wave of relief, he raced after the truck, which was picking up speed, reaching out a hand to geremy, who grabbed one of the the other players by the upper arm as to steady himself as he reached down. The guys yelled in surprise, but he ignored them stretching out his hand.

Adam leaped forward grabbing him by the hand, and with all his strength, and only with one arm, Jeremy hauled him up into the back of the moving truck to the protestations of the other team players.

“Dude what the hell.”

“He’s not supposed to be here, Jeremy.”

Jeremy turned, one arm around his little brother’s shoulders, “Another word about the kid, and I turf one of you out of the truck. As if to punctuate his threat, he drew himself into a crouch hands up like he was about to start a football play.

Everyone backed off, and their near hostility faded away.

A few of them even smiled.

One ruffled his hair, “Alright Freshman, if you’re gonna be here at least be useful.” A bag of candy was shoved into his hands, and he looked up at his brother with an expression of gratitude as Jeremy smiled down, “better than being back with the freshmen eh.”

He nodded his head and smiled at his older brother, who thumbed him on the back once before a chant broke out and he had to join in.

They moved up the line of cars, passing the Sophomore float where Thomas was standing grumpily at it’s back hands in his pockets. Just towards the front, Student body president and homecoming king David sat in his nice suit on the hood of a classic car next to the homecoming queen.

He waved at them as they passed making a face at Adam. jeremy flipped him off.

His eyes moved towards the sky, as the bright blue expanse reminded him of something.

***

Conn tilted his head slightly listening, or seeing the visions that ran through the man’s head in crystal clear detail. It was a clever trick he thought, but he bet he could see a completely different application to this machine.

Not really any reason to use it right now….

Other than his own curiosity of course.

***

The sky suddenly faded to black. The roaring Euphoria through his body completely dropped off as he began to fall hands and legs flailing out in either direction as he did. He screamed in shock and surprise, given only a second before plowing straight down into the dark ground below.

It hurt.

He was surprised at how much it hurt.

He groaned and sat up, pushing his body against the balck marble floor. Looking around, he saw nothing other than a black floor extending into darkness. A white ambient light was glowing from somewhere, but he couldn’t tell where for the life of him.

What the hell was going on. He didn’t have a memory like this.

Off in the distance, he thought he could see another person, or another figure crouched against the floor.

He began walking towards the figure, and then broke into a sort of half jog. He could make out the figure now, a man it seemed, sitting on the floor his arms wrapped around his knees rocking back and forth.

“Hey…. uh are you alright.” He called jogging forward a little faster.

He was just close enough now to see the figure, a brown jacket, blond hair, blue jeans and boots, head down against his folded arms.

He reached out a hand, “hey.”

As his hand came down, the head snapped upwards and he yelped in surprised leaping back as his own face stared back at him.

“The HELL!”

His own face twisted into an expression of confusion and inner pain, “Help me.”

“Help you?I Help you what”

His clone's hands pressed against the side of his head, “What is wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you, nothing is wrong with you I…”

“I’m so scared…. Of everything, all the time I…. its like I can’t breathe.”

Adam paused standing over…. Himself? As the other him rocked bak and forth on the floor.

He paused, kneeling down and resting a hand on…. On his own shoulder?

“I uh… I’m sorry you feel that way but…. You know I’m scared all the time too, you know that I’ll let everyone down, that people will find out im a fraud, that ill get everyone killed, that I’m not good enough….. That she will leave me?”

His clone threw his head back hands still to the side of his head, “How do you stand it!”

“I uh.”

“Shut up jackass, and don’t bother paying attention to him. He just likes the attention.” Adam leaped to his feet as his own voice assailed him from another side. He turned on the spot finding another incarnation of himself staring back at him. This one was wearing a flight suit, aviators, and was slowly chewing a piece of gum as he walked forward. He paused next to the quivering adam on the floor an made an expression of disgust before kicking him into the floor, “Shut up.’

Adam grabbed him? Himself? By the arm, “Hey leave him alone.”

The other Adam turned to face him still chewing slowly ,”No, I don’t think I will. This guy gets in my way all the time.” He glowered down at him, “Sniveling bastard, if it wasn’t for him I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, but he always has to wine and complain.”

“Touch him again and I will end you.” Adam said stepping in between himself and his other self.

Confident Adam leaned back arms crossed over his chest, “You should thank me for what I do. If it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t be flying, we would have a spaceship, and despite him…. We still managed to get the girl.”

Adam clenched his teeth, “Sometimes fear is alright.”

The other Adam snorted,, “Fear is for the weak.

Adam stared at himself with a frown, ‘Your a real asshole aren't you.”

“Not an asshole, just not afraid of repercussions.”

“Wow, is that an eyepatch!”

He turned again, as a child’s voice assailed him this time.

A young boy no older than ten or eleven ame rolling up on a pair of heelies wearing a Star Trek T shirt and holding a lightsaber in the other hand.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Awesome!”

“Er, yeah I guess.”

A pair of bright green eyes looked up at him, “Hey, you’re me aren't you? Me from the future!”

“Oh uh, yeah I guess.”

“Did you discover aliens! Did you get to ride on a spaceship!”

Adam grinned at his younger self and reached out to ruffle his own hair, “Kid, we DISCOVER aliens, and Command an entire FLEET of spaceships.”

His younger self’s eyes widened, “WOAH! Awesome!”

“I know right!” “You’re SOOO cool.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well guess what kid, you get to be me when you grow up.”

Younger him whooped happily and wheeled away into the darkness.

“Look, we have to focus. The fleet has approximately 225 ships not including the omen. Now if we divide that out and have each fleet cover a specific sector, we can maximize our coverage reducing crime, AND accidents by about 15% according to my calculations.”

“Hey hey, watch this.”

“No, no NO! I told you to FOCUS.”

“He he, are you mad.”

“YES OF COURSE I AM MAD. I AM TRYING TO WORK HERE!”

He turned on the spot looking towards where he was standing x2, or at least one of them was standing, the other one was trying to walk on his hands. The one that was on his two feet was wearing a pristinely cut uniform perfectly maintained, while the other one hadn't even bothered to tuck his dress shirt into his pants

“Of all the unprofessional, Idiotic, Mind numbing!”

“Hey, Hey guess what?” The scruffy Adam asked sitting on the floor and looking up at his companion.

He sighed, “What?’

“I own a jetpack he he.”

The well dressed version of himself clenched his fists and screamed in frustration, “I am NEVER going to get any work done with you around.”

“Pretty funny, aren't they.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the pleasant female voice spoke from over his shoulder. He whirled around his hands up and was met by a woman. She had a very pleasant, wide smile. Long honey blonde hair rolling in waves down her shoulders, one bright green eye and…. And eyepatch.

“Holy shit.”

“I know right?”

“So uh, who are you supposed to be. I mean I get the other guys, fear, douchebag, child, smart guy and dumbass, so who ware you.”

She-Adam smiled, “You’re smarter than you look.”

“I get that a lot.”

He glanced over at where smart adam was still yelling at dumb adam, “I think I spend most of my time between dumb adam and the kid, wherever he went.”

She smiled again and laughed, “Isn’t that the truth. But to answer your question I am Executive control.”

“My executive control is a woman?”

She shrugged, “Your executive control is awesome and you know it.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Has confidence been rubbing off on you?”

“All of them rub off on me.” She frowned, “Wow that sounded dirty.”

“Ew, that sounds wrong.” He cracked a smile

“So uh, is there anything I should know while I can actually talk to my own brain. Like is there anything you need, vitamins or…. Or something I’m not getting enough of.”

She-Adam frowned and tilted her head, “Hmm, good question. You could always use more sleep, more vegetables, and….. “ She paused and looked him over, “you’re not going to like this.”

He sighed, “Shit.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder, “That girl…. You know the one I am talking about. She is giving you so many signals it hurts me on a daily basis to see you either A. ignore them because fear or B,. just not seem them because dumbass over there gets in the way.” They both glanced to where dumbass was now rolling around on the floor.

“Uh huh.”

“You use confidence a lot, let him stay around when she’s there every once in a while.’

“You mean the douchebag guy.”

“Confidence and pride are two sides of the same coin. Let me handle him, just trust yourself.”

“You mean you.”

“I AM you. Besides I think I rein him in well enough most of the time.”

He sighed, “it's not confidence I have a problem with. Its fear.”

She frowned a bit, “I'll talk to him.”

“You mean I’ll talk to myself.” He glanced around at the dark expanse, “Where is procrastination. I am sure he will get in here to fuck things up.”

“Adam, look at me.”

He turned his head to face her, somehow feeling like he was being scolded…. By himself, “I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “We have really come into our own these past few years, and it’s only going to get better, just keep trying.”

He paused and nodded.

“I believe you.”

“Its about time.”

***

And then He snapped out of it bolting upright again, “What the hell!”

Conn floated over him with his head tilted, “I wasn’t expecting that.

“Conn, what did you do!”

“I think I may have just helped you out.”

346 notes · View notes

chemist-ana · 3 years

Text

Chapter 9. The Ride Along— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Robin

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N This is a brand new series that I was inspired to write. I am going to go chapter by chapter in Sam Daltons POV. This story is completely inspired by Choices The Nanny Affair. I have used most of the dialogue from the actual story, anything written in BOLD was taken directly from the book and therefore is not my writing- credit to our good friends over at Pixelberry! All characters are credit to Pixelberry except for my OCs

Summary: When an office tour of Dalton Enterprises takes a turn, who will be left picking up the pieces?

Word Count: 5800

Tag List: @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383

I hear the elevator ding and glance at my watch, 6:15… who is here this early?

“Oh good, you are awake.” Sofia strolls into the penthouse, setting her bag on the bar and resting her hands on her lips. “We need to talk.” Oh great…

I fold the newspaper and set it down on the counter, bringing my coffee to my lips and taking a small sip before focusing my eyes on her. I wait for her to start… its too early for me to play these games.

“That little stunt that Ana pulled last night was completely unacceptable.” She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me. “I can’t have someone under our employment treating my family like that.”

I bite my tongue with a sigh… first of all, she is under my employment… not ‘ours’.

“Sofia… the boys love her… I really don’t want to do this to them.” I choose my words carefully as to not give away my true feelings… I have never lied so much in my life…

“Sam, it was embarrassing and out of line.” Red color rises up her neck as the volume of her voice rises.

“Come on, Sofia. Don’t you think you’re being a little irrational here?” I plead.

“She completely humiliated my father in front of everyone! Some of the club staff heard her.” She takes a step toward me, lifting and pointing one long manicured finger at my chest.

“She was defending you.” Now I am starting to get annoyed, this really isn’t up to you Sofia.

“I don’t care. There’s a way to handle that sort of situation and that wasn’t it. I want her fired immediately.”

“Look, I will take care of it, but there is absolutely no way I am letting her go. That is not even up for discussion, and it ultimately is not up to you.” I turn from her and pick up my coffee, effectively ending the conversation. I hear her scoff as the sound of her heels echo through the penthouse.

I run my hands down my face with a sigh… fuck.

***

My feet pound against the pavement as the sun starts to rise over the New York skyline. Maybe today would be a good day to bring Ana into the lab… I shake my head at the thought… she has been avoiding you…

I stop to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees before looking up at the bluing sky.

I know she has to have aspirations outside of being a nanny… like being your wife? My eyes widen… what the fuck, where did that come from? I pinch the bridge of my nose before taking the final sprint to the penthouse… Duty and responsibility…

***

I lean against the kitchen counter, bringing my coffee to my lips. She has to come in here eventually… I hear the light tapping of feet and she quietly rounds the corner into the kitchen, her eyes widening when our eyes meet.

“Sam! I didn’t expect you to be up so early.” Her emerald eyes quickly drop to the floor.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you. You can be a difficult woman to find, when you want to be.”

“I know what you’re going to say, but you’re wrong.” Her eyes rise to meet mine and she pushes her shoulders back with confidence.

“I am?” Where did that come from?

“Maybe I embarrassed Paolo. Maybe I spoke out of turn. But I was also honest and right.” Her eyes narrow as her pink lips turn down in a frown. “Aren’t those the values you want me to teach Mason and Mickey?”

“I’m not going to fire you, Ana.” I breathe a sigh of relief before reaching out and lightly touching her arm.

“But Sofia-“ Her mouth opens with surprise.

“Sofia doesn’t get a say in this.” My tone comes out more angry than I intended. “Yes, she was upset about what happened at the club, but I wouldn’t fire someone just to soothe her ego. Especially when everything you said to Paolo was spot on.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna stop speaking my mind.” I see determination in her eyes and it sends a wave of desire through me.

“I wouldn’t want you to. Besides, if I fired everyone who voiced their opinion, I’d be an army of one. The world needs more thinkers like you.” My gaze lingers on her lips as she shines from my praise. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about this morning… your future. I thought maybe you could come to the office with me today. Carter can watch the boys, and I know you have ambitions outside of being a nanny. This is your chance to see a Fortune 500 company up-close and personal.”

“Dalton Enterprises is a little out of my league, don’t you think?” She turns to get a cup of coffee, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Nonsense, I’ve seen your credentials. I almost handed your resume over to HR instead of hiring you personally.” Don’t sell yourself short Ana, you are as brilliant as you are beautiful.

“Really? I would’ve loved working under you… it any position.” Her eyes darken, making my cock twitch, as I imagine her bent over my desk.

“I don’t doubt it. You’re very�� capable.” I turn towards the counter to hide my growing desire… calm down Dalton.

“Thank you, Sam. Or should I call you ‘Mr. Dalton’ again today?” Her pink lips turning up in a smile.

“‘Sam’ is fine. Now, do you wanna tell the boys, or should I?” Her eyes light up as she turns on her heel.

“I’ll tell them.”

***

The car ride to work is quiet and riddled with sexual tension as the memories of the last time we were alone together in the back seat come flooding back. I steal a glance at Ana, who has her thighs clenched shut and a blush creeping across her cheeks. She is remembering it too.

When Carter rolls to a stop and opens the door, I have managed to successfully control the fire building in my chest. Ana and I walk into Dalton Enterprises confidently, side by side. This just feels so natural…

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton. I made a submission to the patent folder whenever you have a moment to review.” Grant walks up to me, effectively ending my day dream.

“Excellent. Grant, have you met Ana Schyuler?” I step to the side, gesturing to Ana.

“Haven’t had the pleasure. Are you new here?”

“Oh no, I-“ Her eyes widen.

“Maybe someday, if we’re lucky. She just got her masters in chemistry, and shows a lot of promise.” I glance down at her and I see her flash me a grateful smile.

“Mr. Dalton, call for you on line one.” Stacy, my assistant, has appeared at my side.

“Be right there.” I look back at Ana with a nod.

***

When I go to rejoin Ana, I watch her face as she talks to Grant. Her features are alight as she clearly talks about something she is passionate about. God she is so beautiful…

“Spoken like a future boss.” I hear Grant say as I walk up.

“Should I be worried about my job?” I ask as Ana’s radiant smile is turned towards me.

“No, I’d keep you around to smooth the transition of power.” She says with humor.

Grant leaves to join a meeting and I fight the urge to place my hand on Ana’s lower back as I guide her to my private elevator. I step in after her, the smell of jasmine filling my senses as her eyes flick to mine. My mind races with the possibilities of being alone with her in this elevator, and right as the doors are about to close, a hand slips in to stop them.

“Sam, we need you. There’s a problem with the office in Milan.” Robin’s face is etched with concern as his eyes meet mine. I watch his concern turn to pleasure as his eyes settle on Ana. “Hey, Ana. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, Robin. What’d you do now?” I stifle my laugh with Ana’s choice of words.

“I never said it was my fault.” His eyes scan her body as his tone drops.

“Strategic guess.” Her eyes are fixed on him.

I narrow my eyes at Robin who is too infatuated with Ana to notice.

“Damn, Ana, I don’t want to just abandon you here, but these meetings can go on and on…”

“I can take her off your hands and skip the meeting altogether. It’ll be lunch before you’re done anyway…” Robin’s eyes still haven’t left Ana’s body.

“I like that idea even less.” My voice gruff as I try to grab his attention.

“Can I sit in? That’s why you brought me today, right? To see you in action?” Her eyes widen as she looks up at me.

“That’s true. Alright, follow me.” The doors to the elevator open and she follows me out. We walk into the conference room, and I watch as Ana takes a seat at the table. Her eyes flick to mine and I give her a smile, that’s my girl. Robin pulls up Luca from the Milan office whose face is dropped in worry.

“Signor Dalton, c’e un grosso problema qui.”

“In inglese, per favore, Luca. Non tutti qui parlano italiano.” I respond back to him, wishing to continue this conversation in English.

“We’ve had a security breach. Several files were lifted onto a jump drive. We think it was a former employee. The suspect was last seen in Lab C.” His words make my temper rise and I quickly forget about the other people in the room as the rest of the board members begin to murmur around me.

“Our customer DNA profiles are in that database. If the data get’s out, it’ll be the most catastrophic violation of privacy in our lifetime.” My hands turn into fists at my side.

“Our stock is going to plummet.” Luca’s voice rings out over the speaker.

“Our stock? What about the millions of customers who trusted us?” Our fucking stock is the last thing on my mind you imbecile. I close my eyes and are a deep breath as I try to collect my thoughts. “Luca, how did a former employee even have access to those files?” I narrow my eyes at him and he seems to falter at my question.

“That was my fault, Mr. Dalton. I lost my temper and gave him immediate notice instead of following our usual protocol. I’m sorry-“

I put my hand up, and he stops his useless apology. “Seal off the complex and tell security to do a thorough search, building by building. Then, alert the police. Call me as soon as it’s done. Your job is on the line here, Luca.” I reach over and end the call before he can say anything else.

“Fiona, follow up with the Milan office in an hour. David, I’m going to need projections on the impact of the breach.”

“You’ve got it, boss.” Fiona pulls out her phone ad furiously starts typing. I turn my attention to Robin.

“Robin, write up a press release. You’ve always been good at getting people who should be mad at you to calm down.”

“It is one of my many talents.” He sits back in his chair with a cocky smile.

I can feel Ana’s gaze on me, but before I have a chance to settle my attention on her, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

“It’s my father. I have to take this.” I reach into my pocket and step out of the conference room making my way to my office.

“Can you get Ana and have her meet me in my office, please.” Stacy gives me a nod before I step into my office and bring my phone to my ear.

“Hey Dad.”

“What the hell is going on in Milan, Sam?”

“We had a security breach. Luca didn’t follow protocol and now we have someone loose in the complex with our customers data.” I hear my dad take a sharp intake of breath.

“Do you know who this person is?” He asks, and I can hear the anger in his tone.

“I have Fiona following up shortly. Luca is trying to clean up his mess now.”

I hear a knock on the door and the vision of Ana is standing there, all long legs and olive skin. I wave her in, my body responding to her presence like a breath of fresh air.

“I’ll update you again when there is an update, Dad… You know everything I do, promise.”

“Sam, I expect a lot more than that. Luca needs to be held accountable for his actions…”

My dad continues to drone on as I look at Ana and roll my eyes. I watch her gaze grow heated as her eyes travel up my body, lingering in all the right places, until finally her eyes rise to mine. Her gaze doesn’t break when she realizes I caught her staring, her emerald eyes dark with desire, and the fantasies of what I want to do to her in this office come rushing back.

“…Dad, I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone before he has a chance to object. I might regret that later…

“Sorry about all the excitement. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I invited you to the office.”

“No need to apologize. Besides, it’s been kind of… thrilling to see you in action.” She clenches her thighs shut. “I like the way you take charge.”

Fuck…

“Good to know…” Is all I can think of to say in that moment. Try to keep it professional… “It seems you’re quite the hit around the office already.”

“I am?”

“Everyone is so curious about you… I blame Grant.” I also blame how damn beautiful you are. “Well, that and the fact I’ve been so busy, I haven’t been able to give you a proper tour. But I booked the labs for this afternoon to make sure we have them mall to ourselves.”

“Really? That’s amazing! Thank you.” Her eyes light up, god you are so beautiful when you are happy.

“You’re very welcome. Although…” My voice trails off. How do I word this….?

“What?” She asks casually leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

“I’m an impatient man, Ana. I’m not sure I can wait that long to get you alone…” My eyes trail over her bare legs as I imagine them spread open before me.

“What did you have in mind?” She notices my heated gaze.

“We could have lunch together, away from the prying eyes of my employees. Honestly, after the morning I’ve had, I could really use the break from the office. What do you say?”

“Let’s go.” She stands up confidently and moves towards the door.

“Great. Let me send a quick text and we can head up there.”

***

Soon, Ana and I are walking side by side along the High Line, I have a picnic basket in my hand. I find a quiet bench and sit down. I watch her fold her body next to me, the electricity that arcs between us, making me feel alive. She grabs the picnic basket and begins ruffling through it, the corner of her lips turning up in a small smile before she looks over at me.

“Are you telling me that they managed to whip all of this up after a quick text? There must be enough food for twenty people in here!” She holds up a whole range of appetizers.

“I admit, I was hoping you would take me up on my offer, so I planned ahead a little bit… But really, all the chef did was pack what they were serving in the cafeteria into a basket instead of onto a tray to send up to my office.” I shrug my shoulders.

“You have this kind of food everyday?” She looks down at the content of the basket.

“One of the perks of the job.” And the perks of being the boss.

“Mmmm, my compliments to the chef.” She says after taking a bite, her eyes fluttering closed with pleasure.

“So, first impressions. What do you think of Dalton Enterprises?” I pop an olive in my mouth and watch her carefully.

“Seems like a great place to work, especially if you get to eat like this all the time. Everyone’s so friendly and excited about their jobs here. I could see myself working here in the future… assuming things aren’t too complicated between us.” Her eyes grow distant as she shifts her attention to the people walking by.

My mood immediately turns serious as I reach over and place my hand on top of hers.

“I think you’d be a great fit. And the last thing I want to be is a ‘complication’ for your career. Regardless of what happens between us.”

“I know you’re not the kind of man to hold that sort of thing against me… but still, it’s nice to hear you say it.” Her emerald eyes swing to mine as she gives me a small smile.

I turn my attention to the view, enjoying this rare moment of peace between the two of us. I think back on the meeting with Luca and wince as I realize she saw that side of me.

“I hope it didn’t bother you too much to see me get tense in the Milan meeting.”

“Not at all. This company is your baby, and sometimes that requires tough love.” She pauses, and takes a sharp intake of breath, her face turning to resolve. “In fact, it made me want you to discipline me someday.”

My gaze cuts back to hers, did she really just say that? God, I want to bend you over and spank you right now for saying that to me out here…

“Ana… you can’t just say that to me. Not when we’re in public. Not when I can’t do exactly what we both want, right here, right now.”

“I’m not stopping you.” She leans towards me, her eyes flashing.

“No, but the threat of a public indecency charge is.” I smile at her challenge.

“Wheres the fun in that? Maybe I should break a few rules until you tie me up and teach me a lesson.” She gives me a knowing smile and I picture her round ass bare and pink before me, begging for more.

“I have thought about creative ways to punish you…” I admit, my voice husky.

“Like what?” She whispers.

“Drive you to the edge and not let you fall over. Even when you’re begging for it.” I lower my voice as my body leans towards hers.

Her eyes darken as she moans my name, a blush creeping across her neck and up her cheeks as I watch her body shudder.

A dog barks in the distance, bringing me out of my fantasy, I sit up and clear my throat.

“Dessert?” I ask her, swallowing down my desire.

“Dessert? Yeah, sure.” She blushes again.

I grab a strawberry, dipping it into the soft chocolate and offering it to her. She looks between he strawberry and my face before taking it carefully from my fingers. I watch as she traces the curve of her lower lip tantalizingly slow, her eyes never leaving mine. Her tongue darts out and licks the chocolate away. I shift to try and hide the growing hardness in my pants.

“Mmmm, that’s so tasty.” She moans, her eyes fluttering closed. “Sam, I need more…”

“Ana…” Fucking hell woman.

I watch her grab a strawberry and dip it into the chocolate, bringing it up to her lips and sucking lightly on the tip. A wave of desire makes my cock twitch as I imagine her lips wrapped around me.

“Are you trying to kill me? Because its working…”

“I can see that.” She gives me a sly smile, her eyes drifting down to the obviously bulge in my pants.

I swallow, trying to regain control as my mind wanders to the fucked up situation we are in, and the reality hits me hard.

“Ana… I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of all this.”

“All what?” She asks, her face passive.

“My life. My engagement. My… desire. It’s not fair for me to put you through this… not when I can’t give you everything you deserve.” I reach out and gently place my hand on her cheek, running my thumb across her full, pink bottom lip. “But I can’t seem to stay away.” Because I don’t want to stay away.

“What if you are what I deserve?” She asks me, her eyes searching mine.

I can’t help but feel like you deserve so much better than me… I watch her lean her body closer to mine, I can tell she wants me to kiss her…

“You have no idea how much I wish I’d met you first.” I whisper as I look between her emerald eyes which are fixed on mine. My thumb caresses her soft olive skin.

“Sam, it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere. Not after finding you.” Her words strike me hard as I realize what she is saying.

“Really? You’ll wait?”

She slowly nods her head and leans into my palm.

“Forever and ever… although I’d really rather we work something out sooner than that.”

God, she is giving me way more than I deserve… you stupid ass hole, what are you doing?

“Me too.” I say with a smile. “I will find us a clean way out of this mess. I promise.” I don’t even know if that is a promise I can keep, but I am going to try my fucking hardest. “For now, though, let’s just enjoy each other’s company? For one childfree day?”

“Deal.”

I drop my hand from her cheek as we continue to enjoy each others company, the lunch hour passing way too quickly.

***

After lunch I lead Ana to my favorite part of Dalton Enterprises: the labs. I feel like a teenager as we descend down the elevator and through the key card locked doors. I ensured Stacy understood that we were not to be interrupted, and ignored the weird expression that crossed her features at my request.

I swipe my keycard in front of the final door, pushing the door open to the robotics lab. I take a deep breath and breathe in the smell of metal and feel the charge of electricity in the air.

“This is where the magic happens. The prototypes, the formulas, the fistfights over whose name goes first on the patent…” I turn my attention to Ana. Her eyes have widened as she looks around in awe.

“I can picture it now.”

“This is my favorite part of our new line. Granted, it’s got some kinks to work out.” I lead her to a table with our latest project, slipping the gloves onto my hands which make the tiny robotic arms on the table match my every movement.

“Whoa. I can’t decide if you’re a mad scientist… or if the tiny robot is too cute for words.” She says with amazement.

“Are those the only options?” I give her a wry smile.

“Cute or crazy? More often than you’d think.” Her gaze lingers for a moment before she turns her attention back to the miniature robot.

“I’ve never seen you so passionate.” Her voice comes out low and my eyes snap to hers.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. You’ve seen me plenty passionate.”

“I meant about your job.” She rolls her eyes with a grin, and a blush spreads across her cheeks.

“I do love a good experiment. And as messy as it can be, I’m glad that’s a trait I passed down to the boys.” I stifle a laugh.

“So, if you’re in one for a promotion to CEO… will you have to leave all this? The lab?” Her eyes scan the lab and my stomach sinks.

I look down at my hands, slowly peeling the gloves off.

“Unfortunately, yes… I’m not looking forward to that part, but I’ve been waiting to lead Dalton Enterprises for a long time. It’s my namesake. Even if it’s not easy to let go of what I love… sometimes you have to.” The double meaning in my words is not lost on me… but I hope she doesn’t notice.

I watch as Ana leans back on the counter and watches me carefully. The words duty and responsibility ring in my ears like a broken vinyl, the ache in my chest growing as I scan the curves of her body.

“Why is your dad hanging on to the title of CEO, anyway? He’s not even here today.”

“He’s easing his way into retirement, but it’s hard for him to let go… especially given my so-called ‘wild youth’ before the boys. And then as a widower, I think he saw me as a liability. Too fragile. Adrift.” My mind sinks back into the memories of the countless arguments my father and I have been in. “It’s taken so long to finally earn his trust, prove to him that I’m a reliable man.” Which is why you need to control yourself…

I watch Ana reach out to console me, but I hand her the gloves first. Duty and responsibility… self-control… you have worked so hard to get where you are… don’t fuck it all up now.

“Anyway, why don’t you try it now?” I give her a small smile and I watch her lips turn down in disappointment which she quickly masks as she pulls the gloves onto her slender hands. She makes slight movements with her hands, which the robots effectively match.

“Okay, this is really cool.” Her eyes dance with excitement as she blows me a kiss. You are making this really difficult… but the light in her eyes is contagious. You are so radiant when you are happy…

“Clever.” My eyes meet hers with a smile before the moment is broken by the sound of the robot flipping over onto the table.

“Crap! Did I break it?” Her eyes widen slightly in alarm.

“We built it to be more resilient than that. Here, try it like this. You have to go slowly. Gently.” I position myself behind her, and the smell of Ana, jasmine and sunshine, suddenly fills my senses and clouds my judgement. I run my hands down her slender arms, hearing her breath hitch at the heat and contact. My hands come to rest on top of hers and her body involuntarily leans back into mine. “Go too fast, and the whole system shorts out.” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

She turns slowly in my arms, and I am acutely aware of how close we are, our breathes mixing in the silent, still air. My eyes scan the delicate features of her face, ending at the curves of her plump, pink lips. A forbidden place that draws me in like a moth to the flame. I am going to hell…

“Sam…” her lips open and she whispers a desperate plea. She leans toward me until our lips are only centimeters apart. My head starts to swim in the intoxicating smell of her, remembering the sweet taste of her lips, and the delicious blush that covers her body when we touch.

“What if someone walks in?” Her emerald eyes flick between my eyes and my lips.

“No one’s going to. I booked the lab for us. No one will dare interrupt.” My voice is husky as it betrays my desire. My self control is teetering on the brink. I see the moment that her resolve finally crumbles and in that moment I reach up and cup her cheek, as our lips meet in a desperate kiss.

“I tried so hard to hold back… but it feels so good to let go.” She leans back for a moment, her eyes scanning my face.

“I know exactly what you mean…” I pull her lips back to mine in a heated kiss that deepens as my self control effectively disappears. All I can think about is how sweet her lips taste, how intoxicating she smells, and how badly I want to feel every inch of her skin.

My fingertips graze down her curves, as she leans into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. She closes her lips around my tongue and sucks hard, sending a shooting wave down to my cock as I groan into her mouth. I feel her lips turn up in a smile and I moan her name.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” She pulls away, her lips red and swollen from our kisses and that blush covering her cheeks.

“God, yes…” I admit as I run my hands down the curves of her body, unbuttoning her silk blouse and pushing it off of her shoulders exposing her perfectly round breasts in her lace bra. My fingertips graze her newly exposed skin as I push her skirt down to the floor and I take a moment to appreciate her figure. God… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen… “I think about this, about you, all day, every day.”

I put my arms on her lower back, pulling her body to mine as my lips leave a trail of kisses down her neck, then her shoulder, tasting her skin and listening to the soft moans that leave her beautiful lips, have me blind with my desire. She moans my name and the sound of my name off of her lips is almost enough to unman me.

She pushes my jacket off of my shoulders and I watch her shaking fingers quickly unbutton my shirt, pushing it from my shoulders and exposing my chest. She tries to reach out, but I grab her body and bring her breast to my mouth. I suck on her nipple through the lace and I feel her coming apart in my arms.

“I could kiss you forever, Ana.” Because you taste so damn sweet. I drag my teeth across her breast and she gasps as her body responds so perfectly to mine.

“I’m tired of just kissing.” She grinds her hips against my growing desire causing a moan to escape my lips.

“What’s gotten into you?” I look down at her and her eyes are dark and hooded.

“I liked seeing your sexy dominant side. You were so firm and strong and hard with that Luca guy, showing him exactly what kind of boss you are… it was hot” A smile plays on her lips as she continues to grind against me.

“Remind me to let you watch whenever I discipline someone at work.” A fire is raging inside of my body as the friction continues.

“I’d rather you just discipline me instead.” She moans before our lips meet again in a frenzied kiss.

My fingertips travel around her exposed skin before they dip inside of the cup of her bra.

“What’re you doing to me, Ana?” I whisper breathlessly against her lips.

“You’re the one who - oh!- makes me…” I don’t let her finish her thought as my fingers dip lower, feeling the pooling wetness between her thighs. I feel her body start to tremble.

“Sam, are you… sure?”

I pull back and look at her eyes which are wide as she pants. I grab her hand and place it over my racing heart.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.” In this moment I realize truer words have never been spoken. This woman has my heart, I don’t know how it happened… but in the few months that I have known her, she has completely consumed me. I realize in this moment that I have to do whatever I can to have a future with her. “Don’t you feel the same way?”

“I have never been more sure of anything too.” Her eyes search mine in her confession. “No matter the consequences. I’m all in.”

Her words send a fresh wave of desire through me as my eyes scan her every curve, memorizing every freckle on her olive skin.

“Tell me what you want, Ana. Whatever it is, it’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Sam, I want you on the table.” She grinds her hips against my desire again.

I lean back and give her a sly smile before she grabs my hand and pulls me to the other side of the lab. I watch her perfect peach of an ass walk away from me, her hips swaying from side to side.

“I always wanted to do this.” She says with a smile before she brushes all of the papers off of the table. She lifts her hips up and lays herself back as if in offering before me. I take a moment to marvel at her body, spread before me.

“Good thing none of that was important…” I smile.

“Would you care if it was?”

“With you spread out before me, moaning my name? Not even remotely.” My eyes travel down to her most intimate place as I spread her legs wide. I bring my lips to the inside of her knee, blazing a trail of hot, fiery, open-mouthed kisses up thigh. I bring my nose to the apex of her thighs, inhaling the sweet scent of her desire. So fucking sweet. I am going to take my sweet time with this delicious pussy. I can feel the moisture as I run my tongue along the lace. Her hips writhing as she moans my name. God, its so fucking good.

I reach up slowly to hook a finger into her panties when the worst sound I could possibly hear in this moment rings through the lab. That fucking buzzer.

My eyes fly to hers as she lifts her head in alarm.

“What was that?”

“Someone just used their keycard to enter the hall.”

I stand up quickly, grabbing Ana’s hips and helping her off the table, before we hurry to the opposite end of the lab where our clothes lay strewn on the floor. We dress quickly, and just in time, before I hear a closer buzzer signal that whoever is coming down here is about to join us. I look over at Ana who is making still blushing and her lips are still read. Fuck. I run my fingers through my hair.

Thats when Robin walks into the room and my anger flares.

“He should just be in here.” He is holding a phone to his ear.

“Robin! What a pleasant surprise!” Ana exclaims and I fight the urge to pinch my nose.

My eyes are fixed on Robin as he looks between the both of us and gives me a knowing look. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sofia, Im gonna have to call you back.” He narrows his eyes at me before pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up the call.

This isn’t good.

***

A/N- There are a few choices in here I really struggled to make with my MC, I played it several ways and ended up with this, before Ana really knew what she was getting herself into. I had to rethink who she was at this point in her life with Sam, but please forgive me if you don’t like the choices that I/She made. Muah!

#choices the stories you play #the nanny affair #Sam Dalton #n*sfw #choices fanfiction #choicestna #choices sam dalton #choices

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stillchaoticlogic · 4 years

Text

Fated: The Beginning

Pairing: Reno x Reader

Summary: Ordinary days sometimes house the most extraordinary moments, even if we don’t know it at the time. On that fate filled day you would have never expected the red haired boy to one day become a Turk. You had no idea that your kindness would be repaid in ways you’ve never dreamed about. You had no idea he was the one you were meant to be with. Here’s your story.

Prelude

Today is a day just like any other day. Sitting at your desk among your many co-workers, you are part of the HR team at Shinra. Is this want you wanted? Not really. Okay, not even close, but it pays the bills. Another email about an internal issue in another one of the departments have you sighing in exasperation.

There is suddenly an excited murmur among the department and you turn in just enough time to see a tall lean redhead come sauntering up to your desk. You recognize him immediately; even though he is no longer lanky having grown into his height, with lean with broad shoulders. His shirt stretched taut over his muscles making all the women stare. His hair is a vibrant healthy red no longer dulled by malnutrition. His gaze is almost sultry as you are locked in place by his deep green eyes. You blink up at him in confusion at a loss for words.

Reno…

No, not just Reno…

Reno of the Turks.

He smirks down at you before he sits casually on your desk, like this is a common occurrence in your world, as if he does this all the time, and presents a letter to you.

“I wanted to be the one to deliver this to you,” he says with a casual shrug at your silent question, his voice is deep and velvety.

“Thank you,” you say in shock as you take the letter into your hands inspecting it while ignoring your curious co-workers around you.

“I bet you don’t even remember-” Reno begins.

“I do,” you interrupted as you glance up at him through your lashes, “I remember you, Reno. You’ve done well for yourself.” You say as you lean back in your seat to look up at him easily, casually opening the envelope in your hands. A delivery from a Turk is rarely a good thing and your curiosity gets the better of you.

He sends you an easy grin, completely comfortable and confident in his place and in himself. Of course, you had heard about the successes of Reno. Your dad kept up with his progress and would casually mention him to you from time to time. But even if your dad hadn’t kept you up to date, the Turks are quite notorious, and Reno isn’t exactly one to blend in.

“Indeed I have, though it’s not exactly the life I had pictured,” he leans forward conspiratorially and with a wink he murmurs, “it’s even better.”

You chuckle as he casually leans back, a smirk on his handsome face regarding you before he indicates the letter in your hands. You pull it from the envelope and glance over it before you gaze up at him with wide eyes. He winks and puts a finger to his lips.

“So, long time no see, how’ve you been?” Reno asks just like you are old friends, shifting his posture comfortably on your desk. Though, perhaps you are at this point.

“I’ve been good, you know, just working and hoping to move up,” you say with a shrug.

“How’s your dad?” Reno asks good-naturedly.

“Oh, that’s right,” cuts in a snarky voice, “the ‘princess’ gets things handed to her on a platter.”

You glance over at your co-worker as she regards you with disdain. Reno glares over at her and asks in a sharp tone, “did we invite you into this conversation?”

“Uhh… N-no…” Your co-worker stutters, trying to avoid his menacing gaze.

“Then mind your own business,” his voice is almost a growl that sends a shiver down your back. She shrinks down into her seat and quickly averts her eyes back to her work.

You giggle at him, “I had wondered if I was going to get to meet him.”

“Meet who?” Reno asks as he glances down towards you in confusion, the hostility from a second ago completely vanished.

“‘Reno of the Turks’,” you say with a smile.

He sends you a sly look, “well, if you wanted to meet him all you had to do was ask.” He leans forward on your desk, holding your gaze before pulling away with a subtle wink.

“‘Wanted’ is a strong word, I think I’m happy with just ‘Reno’,” you say with a soft smile.

His eyes soften, if you hadn’t been watching him you would have missed it.

“So, you never answered my question,” Reno says clearing his throat, “how’s your dad?”

“He’s doing well! He’s now head of his department, and his people love him.”

Reno nods his head, “I may need to stop by and see him, it’s been a while…”

“You should, he would like that. He’s very proud of you, you know…”

“He is?” The surprise is evident in his voice. You know he has no biological family of his own, the Turks had clearly become family for him.

“Of course, you made him look good,” you say with a wink.

He laughs with you, “Of course I did. How many of his recruits became a Turk?”

“Only one, but seriously, he keeps up with you and he doesn’t often keep up with any of his recommendations. He even keeps me up to date with you, so I know he’s really proud of the fact that you made it.”

“He’s a good man,” he says with a nod as he avoids your eyes.

“Thanks, Reno. So, what turned you into my delivery man?” You ask as you lean your elbows on the desk and rest your chin in your hand grinning up at him.

He chuckles as he rubs his chin, “well, I recognized your name in the stack and knew that I needed to stop by and see you. After all, you are perfect for this.”

“I am?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“What?! Of course! You aren’t afraid of anything,” he winks as he stands up and checks his phone. He regards it with an exaggerated frown, you nod your in understandment.

“You’re right, I’m not…” you smirked as you watch him walk away.

“Not even the Turks?” he inquires teasingly over his shoulder, the phone now at his ear.

“Not even the Turks,” you repeated, a sly grin sliding onto your face.

“See you soon,” Reno dismisses with a wave as he heads for the door. He’s speaking low and fast into the receiver.

“See you…” You lift your hand up in a half-wave, you aren’t sure he even saw. You’re still more shocked at seeing him after all this time, and now the letter in your hands. The letter is your chance to move up, and not just by a little bit, but to the top; to achieve a more exciting life, instead of just barely getting by and pushing papers at a desk surrounded by hostility.

“Are you a Turk candidate?” Whispers one of your co-workers. You could almost call this particular one a friend, if only she wasn’t so exhausting to deal with.

“Umm… No… Reno and I just knew each other briefly when we were younger. He was just stopping by to say hi, and deliver some mail he found.”

“Are you sure that’s it and you’re not just his next whore?” The snarky coworker from before spat bitterly.

“What is your problem?” You ask in annoyance turning towards her.

She gives you a haughty smirk, “you just think you’re so great because of who your daddy is and this job was basically handed to you on a platter. Now you even have a Turk to fight your battles for you? How pathetic.”

“We literally have the same job, doing the same thing, and you think this is glamorous? I work just as hard as you, probably harder since I’m not sticking my nose into everybody’s business. Maybe focus more on your work and less on your spite and you might actually get promoted. Also, my relationship with Reno, regardless of what it is, is none of your business. But you can trust me when I say I don’t need him to fight my battles. I can do that just fine,” you bite back.

She scowls at you, about to hiss another retort when your name is called over the com system, along with 4 other names, to meet at a specific conference room. With a shaky breath, you stand up and head out. You can feel your heart racing as nerves wrack your body.

You gaze around at the other candidates, three men and one other woman, all looking equally confused and gripping a similar letter in their hands. No one says anything before the screen on the far side of the room springs to life, on the other side is the Rufus Shinra.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m sure you are all very confused as to why I have called you here. As you have ascertained from the letter given to you this morning, I am in need of a personal assistant and you have all been selected as potential candidates. Since this is a time-sensitive matter, we will be doing the interviews today. You have all been chosen since you are the best at what you do and hold qualities that are valuable to the position. You all also come highly recommended by a member of the corporation and I look forward to speaking with each one of you. Thank you.”

Quick and to the point, you would expect nothing less of Rufus Shinra.

The first man called into the office is a serious-looking man named Chase. Your right leg begins to bounce with nervous energy and you just stare at one spot on the wall in front of you. You were not expecting this to be what you did today. Next up, was a man that resembled more the likeness of a snake than an actual man. You don’t bother listening to his name, he’s too smug for you to pay much attention to. Shortly after, your name was called next and you walk into the room with your back straight, a serious look on your face.

You regarded the four Turks in the room calmly. They are positioned behind Rufus Shinra’ desk and you read it for what it is -- an intimidation tactic. You catch Rufus’ eyes and give him your most professional smile, holding out your hand to shake and introduce yourself confidently.

“Miss. (L.Name), you have come to me highly recommended. Please, tell me what you could bring to this position?”

You give him another one of your best smiles before you begin your answer, “thank you, sir. I am very efficient, hard-working, and reliable. I always strive to solve problems creatively and effectively. I work independently, as well as in a team with no problems. I-”

“These are very wonderful answers, Miss. (L.Name). However, everyone I have chosen today is efficient, hard-working, and reliable. They are the best in their current department. What I want to know is what sets you apart from them.”

Your eyes widen from being suddenly interrupted. Rufus Shinra regards you coolly from behind his sleek marble desk. Your eyes are in your lap and you glance up just enough to see the Turks gazing at you with unreadable expressions. You inhale a sigh, a smirk slides its way onto your lips as Reno’s words echo in your mind, and you throw caution to the wind.

“Well sir, I was told recently I’m not scared of anything. And I mean anything. I don’t just mean work-related challenges, even though I can tackle them head-on as well. I mean, I was almost assaulted on my way home from work last week and I had to beat three drunks into the ground with the lid of a trash can,” your gaze is fierce as you regard the past week’s events, “I don’t take anyone’s shit, and I don’t particularly care who they are or how important they think they are, I don’t tolerate being disrespected. So to put it frankly, if you are looking for an assistant that will wipe your ass every day and praise everything that you do… Then I am afraid I’m not that person. However, if you want an assistant that will contribute valuably to Shinra and it’s future, all while actually getting things done, then you can do yourself a favor and hire me now.”

The room is silent at your speech and you know in the next moment you are either getting promoted or fired. When a smirk slides onto his lips and a light chuckle escapes them, you start to feel the tension leave your shoulders.

“He was right about you… You are perfect…” Rufus muses more to himself than to you.

“My father?” You ask instinctively.

“Reno,” he says as he indicates the redhead to his left, “he said that you’re perfect for the job. I admit at first I didn��t believe him. You seemed too compliant, but, as it turns out, he was right.”

“So, I start Monday?” You ask with a sly smile as you regard the group before you.

“Yes you will, unfortunately, I still have to do interviews to keep up appearances. The job is yours though.”

You can’t stop the smile on your face, “thank you, sir! You won’t regret this.”

“Let’s hope not…” Rufus glances between you and Reno, just as Reno sends you a signature wink.

“We shall discuss the details of your new salary on Monday, in the meantime, you have the rest of the day off. You will be moving into your new apartment closer to Shinra and my condo.”

“Oh?”

“Someone will be in contact with you this afternoon about your new accommodations.”

“Thank you, I look forward to working with you,” you say sincerely, getting up to shake his hand once more before leaving the room.

Your expression gives nothing away as you leave the room and head back to your desk to gather your things. Though, there is an energetic skip in your step as you head to the door.

Several hours later, as you are finishing cleaning off your bookshelf there is a knock at your door. You furrow your brow and go to answer it. Opening it, you find Reno on the other side. He looks up and into your eyes the moment the door opens.

“Figured you might be hungry,” he says, indicating the pizza in his hands.

You smile as you open the door wider, “a man after my own heart.”

Reno smiles as he walks inside and inspects the place.

“Nice place! I think you’re gonna love your new one too, though.” He sets the pizza box down on your kitchen counter.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do. You’ll be pretty close to all of us too.”

You walk to the cabinet to grab plates for you both. You hand him one before he opens the box and you both dig in.

“You’re right on time. I was starting to get hungry.”

“Yeah? How’s packing going? You need any help?” He asks around a mouth full of pizza.

“I couldn’t ask you to help me, Reno. You’ve done a lot for me already, recommending me for this job and all.”

“What are you talking about? You were already a candidate. I just put the bug in the boss’ ear. Plus there is no way that I could stand Tseng’s pick,” he says with a shudder.

“Let me guess! That really serious looking guy!”

“The one who never even changed his tone the entire time,” Reno says with a groan.

“Yeah, working with him would have been brutal…” You say as an afterthought as you take a bite of pizza.

“There would have been two of them then…” You share an overexaggerated look of horror with Reno before you both burst out laughing.

“I’m glad he picked you,” he leans against the counter sending you a sly look.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Well, you actually have a personality, plus you are WAY easier on the eyes than those other guys.”

You scoff as you playfully punch him, “so you just wanted me to have the job because of my looks?”

“Hey! I said you have a personality first!”

You laugh heartily, glancing over at him. “Thanks, Reno,” you say, bumping him lightly with your shoulder.

“Don’t mention it,” Reno shrugs.

You both fall into a comfortable silence before you head to your fridge and pull out some wine.

“Want some?” you offer, as you go to grab a glass from the shelf.

“You don’t have any beer, do you?”

You frown slightly, “No… You want anything else?”

“Naw, the wine is fine…”

“Sorry, I’m not much of a beer drinker…”

“S’okay, it’s your house… Plus I should have grabbed some on the way over.”

You pour him a glass and hand it to him. He thanks you quietly before he takes a sip, “not bad…” he regards the liquid in his glass.

After a few minutes, Reno claps his hands, “come on! We gotta get you packed!”

“Reno! I told you that you don’t have to help!”

“Well too bad because I am!” He says as he undoes the clasp on his suit jacket and throws it over the back of your couch.

“Is the apartment furnished?” You inquire as you glance around your own place.

“Nope, I’m taking you shopping tomorrow while the movers come to pick up your things.”

“Wait! What? Tomorrow? The movers are coming tomorrow?!” You begin to panic.

“Yep! That’s why we gotta get you packed!”

You curse under your breath, “you could have said something sooner!”

“And ruin dinner? That was top notch cheap pizza!”

You hide your smile and roll your eyes, “you’re ridiculous…”

“You love it,” he smirks as he grabs a box and heads into the kitchen.

It’s at that moment a small meow is heard from the floor and Reno looks down in surprise. His eyebrows practically jump up into his hairline and his mouth opens in surprise.

“Is this!?” He exclaims.

“It sure is!” You giggle as Milly skirts around Reno and rushes to you. You pick her up as she regards the new person warily sniffing the air in his direction. You pet her to help calm her nerves and speak gently to her as you do so. She eventually relaxes against you while still regarding Reno with distrust.

“I can’t believe you still have her… Then again I don’t know how long cats live,” he scratches the back of his head in slight embarrassment.

“They live for a while. I once heard of a woman whose cat was 32 when she died.”

“The cat or the lady!?” He asks in surprise.

“The cat!!” You laugh.

Reno chuckles as he slowly approaches you and holds out his hand for the cat to sniff. She does so hesitantly before rubbing her face against his hand. He chuckles again as he pets her, astonished that she is in your arms.

His eyes soften as he watches her rub her face against his outstretched hand, no doubt recalling the last time he saw her.

“It seems so long ago… a lifetime…” Reno says softly.

“I guess for you it was…” You glance up at him with a smile.

“Yeah… My life changed a lot that night… I owe your dad a lot,” he murmured wistfully, “He got me off the streets, helped me make something of myself. Even when I was talking about my dreams that night, I didn’t know if I would ever escape that hellhole. Now look at me, I’m a Turk. Not exactly the life I was picturing back then, but I’m not going to complain about it.”

“I’m happy for you Reno… People were so cruel to you…”

“Hey now! Enough with the sappiness! We’ve got to get you packed! You move in tomorrow!” He turns away abruptly leaving Milly meowing in annoyance that her pets stopped suddenly.

“Oh! Right! Okay!” You exclaim in surprise at the sudden topic change. You understood though, he doesn't want to relive his old life, he left it behind so many years ago. Perhaps this time though you’ll get to be the friends that the two of you never got to be.

With that, you both get to work packing up your apartment, throwing jokes and comments at one another along with knick knacks that you each find along the way. The playful banter is something you didn’t know you needed, it keeps the nerves at bay. Or maybe it’s Reno that you didn’t know you needed...

Notes: Apparently there is a... cam guy? I don’t really know anything about him except his name is Reno, every time I’m looking for Reno gifs his gifs show up too. So there are just clips of this guy shaking his ass on the bed and I’m always so surprised when they show up! I can’t... Anyway long time since this was updated but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! Shout out to my Beta: @westsideeffectsvary

Please like, reblog and comment! You know all that good stuffs!

#reader insert #Reno #reno sinclair #reno x reader #ff7 reno #Reno Of The Turks #reno imagine #reno sinclair x reader #ff7 imagine

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arcticdementor · 3 years

Link

An unlikely thing happened to me on my two weeks’ off. I watched an HBO Max miniseries that mocked some aspects of wokeness.

Mike White’s “The White Lotus” is a tragicomic exposé of our current moneyed elites and the psychological dysfunction they labor so mightily under. There’s a blithe, unthinking finance jock, with a worked-out bod, an uneasy new wife, and a shitload of money, who can muster misery at the slightest ruffle in perfection. There’s the beta male, married to the mega-rich corporate CEO wife, worried about the condition his balls. There’s the super-uptight gay manager, hanging on to sobriety, as he performs for his clients; the mega-wealthy, overweight lost soul, played by Jennifer Coolidge, whose life is a pampered abyss of emotional desolation; and an aspiring young journalist who reconciles herself to money and indolence over a mindless career of clickbait snark.

…

And the most repellent characters are two elite-college sophomores, Olivia and Paula, packed to the gills with the fathomlessly entitled smugness that is beginning to typify the first generation re-programmed by critical theory fanatics. You watch as they casually abuse and denigrate their brother — a young man consumed by living online; you see how they mock anyone who doesn’t meet their exacting standards of youth or beauty; you watch them betray and lie to each other; you see them condescend to someone still struggling to pay back student loans (see the clip above); and you witness the co-ed of color, Paula, act out her antiracist principles, with disastrous real world results for a Hawaiian she thinks she is saving from oppression. She leaves her wreckage behind, gliding away, with impunity, to another semester of battling racism.

At one point, in a memorable scene, as the white daughter expounds about the evil of white straight men, her mother points out that she is actually talking about her brother, sitting at the same table. An individual person. Right next to her. Someone she might even love, if such a thing were within her capacity. Someone who cannot be reduced to a demonized version of his unchosen race and heterosexuality. And the only character one can bond with, and root for, is indeed this young white American male, awkward but genuine, whose story ends with a new bond with his dad, an escape from online addiction, and a newly revitalized human life.

“The White Lotus” is not an anti-woke jeremiad. It’s much subtler than that. Even the sophomores seem more naïve and callow than actively sexist and racist. The miniseries doesn’t look away from the staggering social inequality we now live in; and gives us a classic white, straight, male, rich narcissist in the finance jock. But it’s humane. It sees the unique drama of the individual and how that can never be reduced to categories or classes or identities.

And this step toward humaneness is what interests me. Because if we can’t intellectually engage people on how critical theory is palpably wrong in its view of the world, we can sure show how brutal and callous it is — and must definitionally be — toward individual human beings in the pursuit of utopia. “The White Lotus” is thereby a liberal work of complexity and art.

…

Applebaum’s Atlantic piece is a good sign from a magazine that hired and quickly purged a writer for wrong think, and once held a town meeting auto-da-fé to decide which writers they would permanently anathematize as moral lepers.

Similarly, it was quite a shock to read in The New Yorker a fair and empathetic profile of an academic geneticist, Kathryn Paige Harden, who acknowledges a role for genetics in social outcomes. It helps that Harden is, like Freddie DeBoer, on the left; and the piece is strewn with insinuations that other writers on genetics, like Charles Murray, deny that the environment plays a part in outcomes as well (when it is clear to anyone who can read that this is grotesquely untrue). But if the readers of The New Yorker need to be fed distortions about some on the right in order for them to consider the unavoidable emergence of “polygenic scores” for humans, with their vast political and ethical implications, then that’s a step forward.

…

And then, in the better-late-than-never category, The Economist, the bible for the corporate elite, has just come out unapologetically against the Successor Ideology, and in favor of liberalism. This matters, it seems to me, because among the most zealous of the new Puritans are the boards and HR departments of major corporations, which are dedicated right now to enforcing the largest intentional program of systemic race and sex discrimination in living memory. Money quote: “Progressives replace the liberal emphasis on tolerance and choice with a focus on compulsion and power. Classical liberals conceded that your freedom to swing your fist stops where my nose begins. Today’s progressives argue that your freedom to express your opinions stops where my feelings begin.”

The Economist also pinpoints the core tenets of CRT in language easy to understand: “a belief that any disparities between racial groups are evidence of structural racism; that the norms of free speech, individualism and universalism which pretend to be progressive are really camouflage for this discrimination; and that injustice will persist until systems of language and privilege are dismantled.” These “systems of language and privilege” are — surprise! — freedom of speech and economic liberty. If major corporations begin to understand that, they may reconsider their adoption of a half-baked racialized Marxism as good management. Maybe that might persuade Google not to mandate indoctrination in ideas such as the notion being silent on questions of race is “covert white supremacy,” a few notches below lynching.

…

And then there’s a purely anecdotal reflection, to be taken for no more than that: all summer, I’ve been struck by how many people, mostly complete strangers, have come up to me and told me some horror story of an unjust firing, a workplace they’re afraid to speak in, a colleague who has used antiracism for purely vindictive or careerist purposes, or a hiring policy so crudely racist it beggars belief. The toll is mounting. And the anger is growing. The fury at CRT in high schools continues to roil school board meetings across the country. Some Americans are not taking this new illiberalism on the chin.

This isn’t much, I know. Read Peter Boghossian’s resignation letter from Portland State University to see how deep the rot has gotten. But it’s something. It’s a sign that there is now some distance from the moral panic of mid-2020 and the start of reflection upon the most zealous aspects of this new illiberalism.

#andrew sullivan #substack #the white lotus

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alarawriting · 4 years

Text

52 Project #38: All We Wanna Do Is Eat Your Brains

Like “No Lullaby” at number 19 and “The Lake” at number 20, this is a songfic. Unlike those, the song itself -- Jonathan Coulton’s “Re: Your Brains” -- is comedic, so this is a comedy wrapped up in the skin of a horror story. Trigger warning for zombies, but no speaking characters get killed by zombies in this story.

-----

The fifth floor of the six-story Peaceful Pines Towne Centre shopping mall was entirely occupied by the business offices of the real estate company that owned and managed it, and many other similar shopping malls.

It was divided into two halves, the west side and the east side, with elevators in the center, and locked, heavy wooden doors between the two sides. At one point both of those doors had been unlocked. On the west side, there had been attractive, frosted glass doors leading to the reception area; those had been smashed. On the east side, there were security doors painted the same color as the wall. Those were locked, but could normally be opened with company badges. The system that allowed the badge locks to work had been unplugged, and the badge lock itself had been disconnected from the inside.

Once upon a time, the salespeople and the financial analysts and the C suite had all had offices or cubicles on the west side, and the IT people, engineers, and facilities management had all had offices or cubicles on the east side. HR had been on the west side, but right near the doors; all the people from that department were all on the east side now.

The bathrooms were in the hallway; the break room was on the west side, with the coffee machine, refrigerator and water cooler. On the east side there was nothing to support human life except air, the water cooler replacement jugs, and several packages of granola bars that one of the engineers had stashed in her desk.

The security cameras still worked, so it was quite possible to see, if you were looking at the monitor screens, a disheveled, pudgy man with short, straight dirty-blond hair, wearing a suit, with skin that was normally the pinkish-beige of a white guy but was now kind of grayish and also yellowish, standing in front of the security doors. “That you, Tom?” he said cheerfully.

“Uh, yeah?” The man on the east side of the security doors was tall and skinny, with black hair in a ponytail. He was also white, but had the kind of skin color which could maybe mean Greek, Southern Italian, Northern Middle East, or something like that, except that it hadn’t seen much sun in months, maybe years. It also had a bit of a sallow cast to it, but nowhere near as strong as the man on the other side of the doors.

“Hey there! It’s Bob, from down the hall. Good to see you, buddy! How’ve you been?”

“Uh… okay, I guess? Overall? Today hasn’t been great though…”

“Oh, I feel ya, buddy, I feel ya. Things were going okay for me, too, but now I’m a zombie!” Bob chuckled. “Isn’t it funny, the curveballs life throws you?”

“Uh, yeah. Funny. Hey, if you’re a zombie how come you can talk?”

On the monitors, they could see Zombie Bob shrug. “I’m no egghead. I’ll let the scientists figure that one out. But we’re not all dumb just because we’re zombies, you know. I’ve been the head of Strategic Marketing for two years now… oh, but I guess you know that!” Bob laughed. “I know, I know, we’re coworkers! I don’t have to explain my position to you.”

“Sounds like maybe a touch of memory loss, there, Bob,” Tom said.

“Nah, nah, I’ve just been meeting with so many new people today! This zombie thing, it’s really underrated. I know I was practically pissing my pants when I realized I’d been bitten, but now that I’m a zombie? Oh, I know I look kind of unhealthy, but actually I feel great! No pain, and I’m never gonna have to worry about dieting again! Yeah, I’m gonna miss French fries, but to be honest I was considering doing keto, and this is kind of like extreme keto, right?”

“But zombies eat people. Right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course we do. Mostly brains, those are the best part. Hey, listen, Tom? Could you do me a solid here?”

“Uh… what do you want?”

“Ah, it’s not a big deal. I just need you to open up these doors so me and my new colleagues can come inside and eat your brains.”

Tom took several seconds to process this request. Finally he said, “Why, exactly, do you think we’d be willing to do that?”

“Hey, I know. It’s a big step, right? You just get a little bite, then you turn into a zombie and you live forever, long as you can keep eating, but we’re gonna be eating your brains, so you’re not gonna be turning into zombies. I can see why you’d be reluctant to do that.”

“Okay, so why did you ask?”

“Well, here’s the deal, Tom. You’re all gonna die screaming. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not this minute, but by the end of the day, it’s happening. So why put it off? Why put yourselves through the agony of anticipation? Just, you know, rip the bandaid off and get it over with.”

“Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.”

“Come on, I don’t think it’s unreasonable. All we wanna do is eat your brains. It’s not like anyone’s talking about eating your eyes here!” Bob laughed again. On the monitor, the elevator opened, and two more zombies came out. They began to scratch mindlessly at the security doors. “Hey, hey there, folks, we’re not getting through these bad boys unless they let us in. Save your fingernails and teeth for a softer target, okay?”

The zombies actually seemed to listen to him. They stepped back and stood quietly.

“I’m not sure you’ve fully thought this through, buddy,” Bob said in a genially condescending tone. “Don’t mean to nitpick here, but this isn’t much of a plan. I know you’ve got a few guns in there, and maybe you’ve got the extra water cooler jugs and the refills for the vending machine? But really, how long’s that gonna last? You haven’t even got a bathroom in there. Bet it’s getting pretty stinky.”

“We’ve got some supply closets over here , and some buckets. We’re getting by.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you can open a window and let some air in, or dump your buckets! Those windows in there, they don’t open. I know! I kept sending memos to facilities, asking if I could get a window that opened, and it was always, no, none of the windows open, they’re not designed that way! Guess they didn’t want any of C-suite to be able to jump if commercial real estate tanked again.” Bob laughed.

Tom stepped away from the door for a moment, speaking quietly and urgently to Nishant, who was waiting for an update. “They don’t know about the windows,” he whispered to Nishant, who grinned briefly, and then ran back toward the IT manager’s office. It was Tom’s office, but it was on this side, with his department, rather than on the other side where all the other managers’ offices were.

He returned to the door to talk to Bob. “We’ll get by,” he said.

“Whoo-ee. Only thing I can smell anymore is tasty meat, but I tell you, I don’t envy you. Hey, why don’t we compromise? You open up the doors so you can dump your buckets, and then we all come inside and eat your brains.”

“That isn’t much of a compromise, Bob.”

“Sure, Tom, but have you thought through your alternatives? I mean, what’re you gonna do, spend the rest of your lives locked up in half the fifth floor of the shopping mall? Good enough for now, I suppose, and maybe you’ll get used to the stink, but sooner or later you’re gonna run out of food and ammo. Guess you’re gonna have to make a tough call then, huh?”

“I guess so,” Tom said.

“No, I don’t envy you at all. The way I see it, your options are, die of starvation, wait for us to break down the doors and eat your brains, or let us in, and at least the third option’s pretty quick.” He laughed again. “Though I’m gonna be honest here, Tom, I’m gonna eat you nice and slow.”

Tom sighed. “I have to say, Bob, I’m a tolerant guy but I’m really leery of this lifestyle choice of yours. I mean, eating brains? Have you ever considered not eating brains?”

“Well, I’ve considered it, but frankly they’re so goddamn tasty, who wouldn’t? I mean, if you guys manage to hold us off long enough, maybe it’ll come to the point where you have to eat each other, and then you’ll be eating your own brains. It’d be better to just get it out of the way quick, don’t you think?”

“I think we’ll manage.”

“I don’t think you’ve really thought things through, though. But that doesn’t really surprise me. You were always a detail-focused guy, never had much of a head for the big picture. Always trying to solve the problem of today, even if it causes problems tomorrow. But me, the big picture is what I do.”

Tom had heard this particular spiel before. “So what’s the big picture, then?” he asked, as behind him Ekaterina tapped him on the shoulder.

“The big picture here is that you’re gonna be dead one way or another. The whole human race is gonna go, Tom. And by the way, I don’t appreciate your comment about my ‘lifestyle.’ I’d be reporting you to HR, but I’m pretty sure all of HR is on your side of the doors.”

“Who’s on your side?”

Bob laughed. “Oh, wait, I got it! You’re mad at the comment I made about gay lifestyles a month ago! That was supposed to be a zinger, right?” He chuckled again. “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear I don’t care about any of that stuff anymore. You remember Kevin, right? The graphic designer?”

Kevin had been 23 and engaged to a boyfriend who was a guitarist in a band. “I remember him.”

“Well, now he’s one of us, and that’s all any of us care about. Gay, straight, white, black, it doesn’t matter once you’re a zombie. We’re all united together.”

“When you say ‘us’. Who’ve you got?”

“Well, right off the bat we got Horace. You would never imagine how delicious he was. You’d think all that fat on his gut would be a problem, but I’m here to tell you, he was exquisitely marbled.”

Horace had been the CEO. Tom shuddered, as he removed his pants and shirt, stripping down to his underwear. “I meant, who’s a zombie?”

“Well, honestly, most of the folks over here, we ate them. I got bit on my lunch hour, and after I turned, I led a bunch of folks from the mall up here. They’re good people, though, Tom. Really focused and dedicated. Hard workers.”

“Working hard at eating people.” Tom handed his clothes to Ekaterina, and she ran them back tto his office.

“Hey, it’s hard work to catch you guys. It’d be a lot easier if you’d just let us in.”

“Okay, break it down for me, Bob. What’s our ROI on letting you in? Where’s the win-win?”

“Sure thing! Now you’re speaking my language, Tom. I think it’s really great that you’re willing to work with me on this.” In the monitor, Bob smirked. “So here’s the deal. We’re all really hungry and we really want to eat your brains. You’re stuck in half a corporate office with nothing to eat and nowhere to go the bathroom. And no toilet paper! Man, that's gotta be rough. So what I’m suggesting is, you let us in, we eat your brains, you don’t have to live through any more of this bullcrap, and you don’t have to watch your families and loved ones get eaten. What do you say?”

Tom swallowed. The laser printed message in 48 pt font, on the paper Nishant was holding up, said “15 FT SHORT.”

“I can see you’ve got some good points there, Bob. But we actually don’t want to get eaten, so I think we’re gonna stick it out for now.”

“I sympathize with that, Tom. And I appreciate how you’re listening and considering my proposal. I’d really like to help you out, any way I can. What if I offer fast mercy killing? We don’t start eating you until you’re already dead, and we bludgeon you to death fast, no biting and tearing. How’s that?”

“Give me a minute to run that past some of my people,” Tom said, and walked over to Nishant. In an urgent whisper, he said, “You can’t find any more cloth?”

Nishant, who was naked except for Western-style underpants, shook his head. “The bras and underpants for everyone here wouldn’t get us the rest of the way, either,” he said. “It’d be different if we didn’t have to support Jason’s weight=”

“No one gets left behind, Nish.”

“I know, but that’s why we’ve had to make what amounts to five ropes in parallel instead of just one, because Jason’s arms are not strong enough to support 400 pounds.”

“Okay, and is anyone proposing a solution?”

“Xi said we should toss down cardboard boxes, but they won’t take his weight either.”

Tom sighed. “I can probably stall Bob for another five, ten minutes tops. You’re engineers. Figure it out or we’re dead.” A 15 foot drop wouldn’t kill most adult humans, but it might well render a lot of them unable to run afterwards, and in a zombie apocalypse, that’d essentially mean death. “Have we got confirmation on the helicopter?”

“They say it’s on its way,” Nishant whispered, shrugging.

“Okay. I’ll tie him up as long as I can.” Tom returned to the door. “Sorry, that’s a non starter. I’ve got a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Bob said approvingly. “Hit me.”

“What if, and I’m spitballing here, you let half of us go, and you just eat the brains of half of us?”

On the monitor, Bob shook his head. “That’s not going to work for us, I’m afraid.”

“What about a quarter?”

“It’s logistics, Tom. There’s no way you get out of here except the stairs and the elevator, and they’re both overrun with zombies. I can’t control all the zombies in this mall, just my own people. You’re not getting to the bottom uneaten, and frankly, if someone’s going to eat you anyway, it should be me and my fellows. You can see my position on that, can’t you, Tom?”

“You could turn half of us into zombies, and eat the brains of the other half,” Tom suggested.

“No, afraid that’s not doable either,” Bob said.

“Mind filling me in on the decision process there?”

“No problem,” Bob said cheerfully. “We’re really hungry.”

“Huh. Well, I guess I can respect that, but that doesn’t get us past the hurdle that we don’t want to get eaten. You have any suggestions?”

“Sure, I can compromise a bit. I want to work this out with you, Tom. I’m not a monster.” He paused. “Wait. Technically, I guess I am. Huh. A horror movie monster.” On the monitor, he shrugged. “It doesn’t feel too different from normal!”

“I doubt most monsters think of themselves as monsters,” Tom pointed out.

“Hey, good point, good point.” Bob looked at his wrist, which did not have a watch on it. “Look, it seems like we’re at an impasse for the moment. I’ve got another meeting, so maybe we could wrap this up?”

“Well, we haven’t worked out a deal yet…”

Nishant came back. This time the 48 pt font on the paper he was holding up said “ROOF. JASON’S UP. REST OF US GOING.”

Tom nodded to acknowledge the message. He didn’t really want to know how his mostly nerdy and unathletic coworkers could have climbed to the roof in the first place, but it was only one story overhead, unlike the ground five stories below, so it was a good plan. He turned back to the door. “But if you have a meeting, I guess there’s no help for it.”

“Yeah, we’d better table this for now, sorry. We’ll come back to this. I know we can get to common ground, somehow. Just gotta work it out,” Bob said. “I need to report in to my colleagues who’re chewing on the doors. Real dedicated folks.”

“Sure, and I need to report to the engineers with the guns that that’s what they’re doing.”

“Hey, I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out! I know we’re all busy as hell, and time is the one thing we can’t get more of, right? Especially for you guys.”

“Not a problem, and I'm grateful for all the advice.”

“I’m glad you take constructive criticism well, “ Bob said, the genial condescension back. “Not everyone does. We’ll swing around to give another go at working things out later, and we’ll put this thing to bed when I bash your head open, all right?”

“Sure, if you don’t get a skull full of lead first.”

Bob laughed. “Man, Tom, you’re a funny guy! You should’ve done stand-up. See you later!”

As soon as he was gone, Tom ran for his office.

Bob seemed to have normal human intelligence despite being a zombie. As soon as Tom had realized that, he’d known he’d have to keep Bob distracted so the zombie couldn’t hear any of the sounds within, especially the sound of breaking glass. He was right that the windows weren’t designed to open… but that wasn’t much of a barrier for a dozen desperate engineers.(Well. Technically nine desperate engineers and IT personnel, and three desperate people from HR.)

It was a good thing Bob himself wasn’t an engineer, or he might have figured out what Tom had known, in a cold pit in his stomach, the whole time.

The security doors were nearly impenetrable. But the walls they were attached to were just standard drywall. And they didn’t even go all the way to the real ceiling – just to the drop ceiling where the wires were. So any zombie who knew that could climb up into the ceiling and then jump down. If zombies could keep their human intelligence, then it was just luck that only one of the engineers had been down at the food court earlier today when the zombies attacked, and he’d moved fast enough to escape.

The window in his office was shattered. There had been a heavy hammer in the facilities closet, and Alexey had managed to grab two guns and ammo from the Bass Pro store in the mall before coming up the freight elevator and getting in through the delivery door – which was, thankfully, on the east side. The glass on the fifth floor was thick, but between the hammer and a well-placed bullet, it had broken enough that they’d been able to smash the rest of it out.

Dangling just outside the window, where he could easily grab it and pull it inside, there was a cradle made of four ropes, where the ropes had been made by tying together scissored strips of everyone’s clothes. Tom stepped into the cradle, using the loops that had been tied onto the ropes to secure his wrists, and the straps on the bottom of the cradle to secure his legs. “Okay! I’m ready!” he yelled upward, and tugged on the cords.

His team pulled him up to the roof, with Nishant, Alexey, Xi and Timothy pulling on the ropes, and Jason sitting on the roof with the ends of the ropes tied behind him. Jason’s heart condition wouldn’t allow him to pull the ropes, but he could use his body as ballast to make sure none of the team fell. His face was pasty white, like there was no blood in his body, and he was breathing hard and sweating, but since Jason usually looked like that after any kind of minor exertion -- his heart was barely managing to do its job -- Tom wasn’t afraid he had turned.

Pete was holding one of Alexey’s two rifles. Ekaterina was unraveling the fifth rope and tying pieces of it around people’s waists and women’s chests, so they could have a tiny bit of modesty back.

“How did you guys manage to get to the roof?” Tom asked as he untied his straps and stepped out of the rope cradle.

“It was Ashley, actually,” Nishant said.

Ashley from HR was a petite woman, but in nothing but her bra and underpants, she was more muscular than Tom would have guessed. “ I do parkour and mountain climbing,” she said. “I’m not saying getting up here was fun, but you know, when the alternative is getting your brains eaten…”

In the distance he could see helicopters. “I know we contacted them already,” he said, “but let’s wave them down. Just to make sure.”

“We’ve got plenty of cloth to make flags,” Ekaterina said.

Tom wondered what Bob would think, when he and his zombies got the door open and found that they’d all gone through the window. The ropes had been pulled up, so he doubted that Bob’s first guess would be the roof… but Pete and Alexey were on guard with the guns, just in case.

Indrani, one of the programmers, leaned over the edge to see where they had come from. “Uh-oh,” she said. “They’ve found the window… looks like one of them is climbing out on the ledge.”

Alexey walked to the edge, cocked the rifle, and pointed downward. He fired. “Not anymore.”

They could all see the zombie fall. The shot hadn’t killed it – it was a chest shot, and they could see it flailing – but when it landed, a puddle of red appeared beneath it, including under its head, and it no longer moved.

“How much ammo have we got?” Tom asked.

“Enough to kill about 300 zombies, if every shot is perfect,” Alexey said.

“Which it’s not gonna be,” Pete added, somewhat unnecessarily. His brown hands were clenched so tightly on his rifle, the knuckles had turned white. “I’m… not the world’s best shot. I go to the range sometimes, get in a little bit of practice, but mostly I suck.”

“You’re probably better than most of us, though,” Tom said.

“I knew I should have gotten a shotgun,” Alexey complained. “At close range the rifle is almost useless.”

“You were under time pressure,” Ekaterina said. “If I’d been in the food court when a zombie turned and started biting people, I don’t think I would have been able to think clearly enough to go to the end of the mall and get a gun from the Bass Pro. Let alone two, and ammunition.”

“I think I see Bob down there,” Indrani said. “He’s… what is he doing?”

“Don’t fall off the side!” Timothy went to his knees rapidly, ready to grab Indrani’s ankles.

“I won’t. What are they doing?”

Rachel from HR peered off the side from a different vantage point on the left of the broken window. “They’re forming a human chain. Well, a zombie chain. One’s climbing on top of another and they’re holding onto each other.”

“That’s not good,” Pete said. “Alexey, you need help there?”

“No, stay covering the door to the roof.” It was chained and padlocked shut and the door was a metal security door, but who knew what would happen if enough zombies banged into it. Alexey took aim, and shot the bottom zombie of what was now a three-zombie human ladder, and all three fell. One managed to grab a ledge; the other two fell to the ground. One stopped moving; the other crawled feebly, her arms and legs obviously broken.

Tom looked up at the helicopter coming toward them. It had a rescue basket, large enough to fit all twelve of them. Twelve. The company had been thirty-three people this morning. He thought maybe one of the sales guys had been out in the field on a call, and the regular receptionist had been out sick, so… thirty-one people in the office had turned into twelve survivors. Plus some that had become zombies, like Bob.

A phone rang. Everyone looked at Donatella, the third of the refugees from HR. She was as underdressed as the rest of them, but she had a purse on her, made of a crunchy plasticky recycled material that no one had thought would hold up to the stress of being part of their escape ropes. The phone was ringing from inside it.

Donatella withdrew the phone, her hand shaking, and answered it. “Rose and Weldon Company, this is Donatella Antonucci, can I help you?” She listened for a moment. “Why don’t I put you on speaker?” And looked up at Tom. “It’s for you, do you want it on speaker?”

“Is it Bob?”

Donatella nodded. Tom rolled his eyes. “Fine. Put him on.”

“Hey there, Tommy boy! You there? It’s me, Bob, again.”

“Yes, Bob, I’m here,” Tom sighed. “No, we’re not going to let you in to eat our brains.”

“Yeah, I can see that you’re on the roof,” Bob said. “Who’s that with the gun? That Russian dude? Ilya or something?”

“His name’s Alexey, and yes.”

“He’s good,” Bob said approvingly. “But listen, Tom, it’s not too late to open up the door on the roof and let us in. We’re in the stairwell.”

“Then who’s trying to form human chains down there?”

“The correct word is ‘zombie,’ Tom, not ‘human’. Please don’t misattribute our species.”

“Okay, fine, who—”

“That’s Barry from Sales. You remember Barry, right? Always bragging about his workouts and his gym routines and the times on his runs? Well, turns out he wasn’t all hot air. I thought he got away from us – he sprinted off when we almost had him, and he was too fast for any of us to follow. But then an hour later he came back and joined us, because one of us had landed a bite and turned him. Isn’t that cool?”

“It’s really not as cool as—”

“I sure think it’s cool.”

“Bob, I’m a busy man, please get to the point.”

“Sure, Tom. I know your time is valuable, I don’t want to waste it. It’s just that you should know, Barry’s a talker, like me, so he has our colleagues doing the zombie ladder thing there, and I’ve taken us up to the roof, and I’m pretty sure we’re gonna manage to knock this door down sooner or later.” There was a “thump” from the chained, padlocked roof door. “So I’m just offering it up as an option here, you might want to consider just letting us come outside and eat your brains.”

The helicopter was getting larger, but the closer it got, it seemed the slower it was coming. “I imagine you could do that,” Tom said. “How many zombies you got in there?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“No real reason,” Tom said. “Just, we’ve got a pretty defensible position here and a lot of ammo.”

“That’s good to hear. Makes it challenging. A good workout before dinner always makes the meal tastier, isn’t that what they say?”

“Actually they say you shouldn’t eat until half an hour after working out…”

“Pretty sure that’s a myth, Tom. But you could Google it on Donnie’s phone. I know you don’t have one of your own, I found it ringing in your office when I tried to call you.”

“So what’d you do, wardial numbers until you hit one that rang?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I probably should have thought of one of the HR ladies first, since I know they got over to your side before you closed the doors. By the way, Bart? In sales? You know, the guy who didn’t make it to the door before you shut and locked it? Dee-lish. Appreciate you leaving him for us.”

“Bob, have I ever told you what an asshole you are?”

“That’s really not professional language, Tom.”

“I know, but I’m standing here in my underpants and you want to eat my brains, so I’m not feeling very professional. I have a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I think you guys should strongly consider the merits of eating shit and then dying. Especially you. After fucking off so long and so far there’s no longer any off to fuck. And also going to hell, straight to hell, without passing Go or collecting 200 dollars.”

Bob laughed. “Man, you’re funny, Tom! I’m gonna miss these little chats after I crack that skull of yours like a steamed mussel shell and scoop out the brainy goodness inside.”

Another “thump” from the stairwell. Alexey shot another zombie chain, sending three more of them falling. “This is fun,” Alexey said. “Tell Bob I’m looking forward to blowing his head off. I want to see if he still has red blood or if it’s turned green like some of these guys.”

“I heard that fine,” Bob said. “Is that Alexey? I’ve always liked Russian food.”

“Were you this big of a clueless narcissist when you were alive, or is this just a zombie thing?” Tom asked.

“Oh, come on, Tom, I thought we had a rapport. I thought we were making some progress, working on this thing together.”

“Bob, when you and I worked together on identifying cities whose legislature might be open to letting us build a new Towne Centre shopping mall in their town, we had a rapport and we made progress. You really wanting to eat our brains is just not our problem and I don’t feel obligated to help you with that.”

“Yeah, what do you guys even do for the company?” Bob snarked. “We’re not an IT company, we don’t write programs. We develop and sell commercial real estate. All we ever needed was one dude to hook up our PCs to the Internet. We didn’t even need servers, we could have kept it all in the cloud.”

“We did keep it all in the cloud, Bob. We haven’t had servers in about five years.”

“So what did your department even do? How did you justify your salaries?”

“Among other things, your database marketing plans wouldn’t have gone very far if we hadn’t been maintaining the database… but that isn’t even the point.” The thumps and the sounds of the shots had grown more frequent, and the chain, somewhat rusty, was actually rattling hard. It was entirely possible that if Bob and his zombies just kept throwing themselves at the door, it would break open.

Again, not the engineers’ solution. But Bob, and Barry for that matter, seemed to have retained their normal human intelligence… not gained any intelligence. Bob hadn’t thought of makeshift explosives yet. Or shoving a long heavy-duty file into the crack and filing away at the chain. Or anything else that might work.

“I can’t hear you very well, Tom, what’s going on out there? Sounds like you’re standing right next to the air conditioner, or a generator?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bob, maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom lied as the helicopter, finally above them, lowered its rescue basket. It was hard to hear Bob through the “whup-whup-whup” of the helicopter blades, but Tom made the effort to talk normally, rather than shout into the phone as instinct told him to do.

“What?”

“I said maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom said, as rescuers directed Jason to sit in the exact center of the basket, and then had the rest of them spread out by estimated weight, to balance the load.

“What? I can’t hear you at all, Tom, what’s going on?”

Very loudly, because now he was in the basket and standing right under the helicopter and its whups, Tom yelled, “What’s going on, Bob, is fuck you!”

He hung up on the zombie and handed Donatella back her phone as the helicopter climbed, pulling the rescue basket into the air. “Block him.”

There was another human chain of zombies forming, now that Alexey was no longer in a good position to shoot them down. Tom, on the edge of the basket facing the building, stuck his middle finger up and leaned out as far over the edge of the basket as he dared, making the gesture at Barry and his zombie ladder as broadly and visibly as he could.

#52 Project #zombies #songfic #comedy

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Could we get something where billy gets “outed” about being with a male omega? since it’s Cali does it go okay or does it end up negatively affecting his job?? Your latest part got me wondering....

Part 41

Masterlist

There is BIG homophobia and various anti-LGBTQIA themes.

This jumps around the timeline

“I don’t think you should tell the people at work about me.”

Steve was sitting up in bed as Billy leaned against the doorway bathroom, brushing his teeth.

“Come again?” His mouth was all full of toothpaste.

Billy was going to be starting his internship tomorrow afternoon, was going to be heading right there after his morning class.

“I don’t think you should tell them all about me. I mean, you could tell them you have an omega and stuff. I mean, they’ll know from the bond mark, but I just. I don’t think you should actually tell them that I’m, a man.” Billy washed out his mouth, coming to join Steve in bed. He sat in front of them.

“Baby, I’m not ashamed of-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve spoke quickly. “You’re just gonna be around a whole bunch of alphas, and I don’t want them, giving you any shit, or treating you badly for any reason. Any reason you can’t control.”

“What do you want? I love everything about you, and you know I won’t bat an eye at telling them all about my husband.”

“I know, Bill, but that’s, I mean, that’s what I’m worried about. I mean, what if they fire you, just because of me. You’re so smart, and you work so hard, I don’t want this to hold you back.”

“Tell me what to so, Sweet Thing. This is your choice. I just don’t wanna hide the fact that I do have a family.”

“You don’t have to. Just keep it vague about me. Just call me your omega and don’t say my name or anything. I mean, talk about the girls all you want, just leave me out of it.”

“That just means I can’t bring you to company parties, or have your picture anywhere. If that’s what you want, I respect that, but Stevie, this can’t be my forever. I can’t spend my whole working life just, pretending you’re not you.”

“And I think this is a conversation we’ll need to revisit many times, but for right now, as you’re beginning this field as an intern, I think we need to do this. I want you to do this.” He reached up to tug on one of Billy’s curls. He had been growing it out again, but had Steve cut it a week ago when he heard back about the internship. “It doesn’t hurt my feelings that this is our reality. I’ve been a male omega my whole life. I know how it goes.”

Billy turned his head to kiss the palm of Steve’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m sorry you gotta live hidden like this. I’m so proud of our relationship.”

“Me too, Bill. But we can be proud together, with our girls and our family. But at work, just focus on you, and your career.”

It’s not that Billy hates his boss, it’s just that his boss is a douchebag alpha with a love of rigid gender roles and talking about tight omega pussy.

So really, Billy hates his boss.

He works at a desk right outside his big office, isn’t much more than a personal assistant, but it pays well enough that he and Steve could get a home, but after a year at the firm, his soul was fucking gone.

He was swaying in his chair, watching as the clock got closer and closer to the time he could leave, go home to his girls and his Steve for the weekend. They were going to have a beach day tomorrow.

He nearly sprinted out of the office at five, hauling ass to get back home.

Zara had turned a year old just last week, and she tottled up to him as he took off his coat, his suit jacket. He could hear Mina chattering away with Steve in the kitchen, could feel the tension melt outta his body as he smelled chicken pot pie, and the milky lavender smell of home.

“Mina Bea! Please hold your sister’s hand!” Steve was sitting on the towel, holding down the fort as Billy took the girls in the water. A year postpartum, and Steve finally felt comfortable enough to take off his shirt at the beach, made Billy’s eyes drift back over to him periodically.

They played in the water for a while, returning to Steve when Zara started getting grumpy to eat the picnic he had packed. Billy was wrapped around him, laughing as Mina relayed a story from her summer dance classes when Billy felt the hair on the back of his neck raise.

He whipped around, was expecting to see his father, the uneasy feeling in his gut making him feel like a teenager again.

“Bill? You okay?” And then Billy’s eyes locked on his boss, strolling across the boardwalk with his omega wife, their three preteen sons.

His heart sank.

Billy was fucking dreading Monday morning.

Steve was jittery nervous, had made a huge breakfast spread in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

Billy took the stairs to the sixth floor. He didn’t know if he was delaying the inevitable, delaying getting fucking fired.

“Good morning, Mr. Hargrove. You have a good weekend?” Billy didn’t know where the fuck he stood with his boss right now.

“It was very nice, thank you, Mr. Wolfram.”

“Enjoy the beach with your family?”

“Yessir. A perfect day for the beach.”

“Why did I picture you with a wife? I thought you said you had an omega.” Billy’s heart sank.

“I do, Mr. Wolfram. Steve is my omega. He’s my husband.”

“God, always wanted to meet an male omega. What’s he got?” Billy blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“What’s he got? A pussy?” Billy felt like cold water dripping down his spine.

“Why is that any of your business?” Wolfram rolled his eyes, chuckling at Billy.

“C’mon, Hargrove. Just between us guys. I always wondered about male omegas.”

“I still don’t see why it’s your business.”

“Just yes or no. I heard guy omegas have really good pussies. But I heard they have cocks too. I don’t know how you deal with that. Is it big?” Billy was regulating his breathing, going through the exercises the therapist he sees every Wednesday during his lunch hour had given him.

“Mr. Wolfram, I do not want to discuss this with you. This is my husband you’re speaking so disgustingly about.”

“Christ, Hargrove. Don’t be so uptight.”

“I find it incredibly disrespectful that you’re asking these questions.” His chest was heaving. His mind was racing Bill, he’s not worth it. Don’t hit him, don’t throw away your career like that. Billy doesn’t know when the voice of reason in his brain became Steve’s voice, just clutched to it.

“It’s just a little talk between alphas.”

“I don’t like to discuss private matters about my husband. Please stop asking me about his genitals.” He turned on his heel out of the office, stalking back to his own little desk.

He supposes he got off easy, didn’t get immediately fired, and was proud of himself for exercising so much self control.

The day passed as usual until he was returning to his desk from running a file down to the third floor.

He found a neat paper on his desk, a memo from the HR department, a memo informing him of the immediate termination of his position.

Don’t cause a scene, Bill. Just go home. We’ll figure it out. We always do.

He packed his desk quietly, avoiding eye contact with the other employees. There is no doubt in his mind news of his marital situation had spread through the firm.

He left with his head held high, waiting until he got in his car to punch at the steering wheel, to scream and rage and be fucking angry.

The house was empty when he arrived. He collapsed, face down into his bed, settling on Steve’s side, breathing him in.

“Bill? Why are you home? Is everything okay?” Steve was trailing a few delicate fingers down his spine. Billy didn’t know when he had fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.”

“Bill, Baby, you’re scaring me.” Billy rolled over, found Steve, biting his lip, his eyes big and shining.

“I lost my job.” Saying it out loud made Billy feel like shit, made him feel so fucking pathetic.

But Steve’s lip trembled, and his scent went haywire, and Billy moved to tug him onto the bed.

“Because of me? Because he saw us?”

“I really, I don’t know, Baby. I don’t know if that’s why, or, or because he kept, he kept asking me these questions, like kept asking if you have a pussy, and how he’d heard male omegas had a cock too, and if it was big, and I told him I was uncomfortable discussing that with him, and I don’t know if he let me go because of that, I really don’t.”

“But, either way, it’s because of me. Because of what I am.”

“No, Honey. It’s because he’s an asshole, that wouldn’t know a boundary if it bit him in the ass.” He pushed Steve back to wipe at the big teals in his eyes. “C’mon, what do we always say?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“And we will! I can go back to the garage, and look for other firms. We’ll make it happen.” Steve took a deep breath.

“We’ll figure it out.” He pressed a wet kiss to Billy’s head, settling back on top of him.

#one day im gonna fix this timeline #mango #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #harringrove abo #omega steve harrington #alpha billy hargrove #mpreg

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overdramatic-queer-antagonist · 4 years

Text

Stop The Apocalypse Out of Spite (Pt 6)

I’ve been in a yearning mood.

Ao3 First Last Next

Nothing Martin said really made any sense to Jon. That being said, he could tell, whatever it was, it was bad. Jon honestly wasn't sure why Martin had been avoiding him. Other than some incredibly rude intrusive thoughts that said- It doesn't matter. The point is that, whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that.

Most of the words coming out of Martin's mouth didn't make any sense. But Jon got the gist of it. From what Jon understood sounded like Elias wanted Martin to hurt Jon somehow (the word Martin used didn't really make sense, but he was so distressed that Jon didn't really want to ask.) Luckily, it sounded like Martin didn't want to. But if he refused, Elias would call Peter. Jon had never met Martin's other father, but the thought seemed to terrify Martin, so he doubted that they'd get along.

By the time Martin was finished speaking, he was downright panicked. Jon had never been the best at comfort, especially not in a situation where someone was worried for his sake, but he managed to put his hand on Martin. His stomach dropped when Martin pulled his hand back.

"Sorry," Jon said, trying his best not to look up.

Martin just shook his head and steadied his breathing. After a second, he took a shaky breath and whispered, "I didn't mind. I- Just... You know, you really should be trying to avoid me, right?"

"Now, why would I do that?" Jon asked. He couldn't really tell if he was trying to sound more offended or less offended than he actually was.

Martin laughed, but it wasn't the sweet, quiet laugh Jon had gotten used to. "Wow. You really have no self-preservation instincts, huh?" He said.

"Sure I do," Jon said, "You just aren't going to hurt me."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because you aren't a monster, Martin. Because you saved Sasha's life. Because I trust you."

Martin almost looked like he had flushed at that last part. But Jon wasn't one to pay any mind to the subconscious actions of others. Especially when he was more worried over whether he'd come off weird.

"Listen, Jon. It's nice that you trust me and all, but you can't possibly conceive of how much danger you're in."

"Then help me! You clearly know what's going on to some extent, so-" Jon bowed his head, speaking softly, "Enlighten me."

Martin, for his part, looked like Jon had just asked him to commit treason. (Well, maybe he had. Jon had absolutely no idea what was going on.) He quickly stood up and said, "Oh no. No. No. No. That's exactly not what I'm going to do."

"Why not?" Jon asked, hoping it didn't come off whiney.

"Because-" Martin leaned against the door (god, he was tall) and groaned, "I don't really know. But I'm positive that it would be the opposite of helpful."

"Well then, what can I do, Martin?" Jon asked a bit too fiercely. He corrected his tone and then continued, "Because your current solution of avoiding me is off the table."

"Nothing, Jon! The best advice I can give you is to stop reading those statements," Martin said, exasperated. Jon opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Martin interrupted him, "And before you even ask, no. I can't tell you why."

They stood in silence for a moment, both exasperated. At some point, Martin had sat back down in front of Jon. Jon hadn't noticed, though, because he was too busy lying face down on his desk. They then sat in silence for a little longer before Martin finally said, "You just have to trust me."

"I do trust you, Martin. That's not the problem," Jon mumbled from his desk. "I just wish there was something I could do to help."

Jon felt a soft hand run through his hair and had to stop himself from gasping. That didn't mean anything, Jon reminded himself. There wasn't any good way to just pat his arm in the way he was sitting. It certainly didn't mean that, he reminded the annoying part of his brain that didn't have to deal with HR.

"Just stay safe, Jon," he heard Martin whisper. "That's the best possible thing you could do for me."

At this point, the rude little voice in the back of his head was just making stuff up. Friends are allowed to not what friends to die, asshole. Even so, the voice did have a point. Jon did want to get to know Martin more. Especially since apparently they were friends now. Especially because Martin was the only person Jon was sure he could trust. Although even as paranoid as he was, he was pretty damn sure now that Elias had killed Gertrude.

Involuntarily, Jon looked up and began speaking, softly taking Martin's hand off of his hair as he did. "Martin, do you-?" Luckily before whatever trainwreck Jon was about to make could occur, Sasha ran into the room (god, how was it already 7?).

"Fuck, Martin! There you are! Listen, I know you said it was a bad idea to tell Jon, but Tim just did something really dumb-" She paused suddenly, registering for the first time the, probably very tender looking, moment in front of her. "O-kay. I'm going to elect to ask about this later because we need to go."

***

As Jon followed Martin and Sasha through the Institute to Tim, the other two explained what was actually happening. Apparently, the thing that had attacked Sasha (the NotThem, according to Martin) had taken an old coworker of Sasha's. When asked about why Martin didn't want to tell Jon, Martin had said, "Because you'd probably try to fucking kill it, Jon!" which was fair but also very rude.

Sasha then told both of them that Tim had found an old polaroid of Sasha's actual coworker and, after seeing his wife's freaked-out expression, had come to the conclusion to kill the NotThem. Jon thought that this was a completely valid decision, getting a "Case and fucking point." from Martin. Tim then got attacked by the NotThem, though, and was now being chased around in the Tunnels.

"Okay, but how do we stop it?" Jon asked.

"We're not really sure," Sasha said, "I've been doing some research, but the only thing I managed to find out was that it was connected to that creepy-ass spider table."

A figurative lightbulb appeared over Jon's head. Either that or it was a literal lightbulb, and the Archives crew had just seen enough weird shit to stop caring. "Hold on!" He said, racing into the storage room that a year before had acted as Martin's sleeping quarters.

Martin's jaw dropped when Jon brought out the axe, but Sasha didn't blink. She just nodded like she could see where this was going and liked it.

"Why the fuck do you have that?" Martin asked indignantly.

Jon just shrugged, "I'll take this thing to Artifact Storage and take care of the table. You guys go get Tim."

Martin nodded, but Sasha shook her head, "No. I want to watch it die. The NotThem tried to kill me, and I want the satisfaction of it knowing I beat it."

Jon laughed at that but nodded, "Okay. We kill the NotThem, Martin gets Tim. Hey, that's two whole people! They should give you the Noble Peace Prize."

Martin made a pained expression but obliged, heading towards the trap door.

Jon smiled after him for a second before turning back to the stairs and walking up them with determination. "Okay," He said. "Let's kill a fucking monster."

#the magnus archives #the magnus institute #the magpod #tma #tma fic #fanfic #jonathan sims #tma jon #martin blackwood #tma martin #jonmartin #tw swearing #tw weapon

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

Note

I’m starting grad school this autumn and honestly I’m getting nervous. Like yes I am v excited about the whole prospect overall and I do miss being a student but am intimidated by 3 hr long seminars and thesis writing and massive amounts of reading… everyone keeps saying it’s gonna be very different from undergrad so okay, but how specifically? Is it the large amounts of reading? I already had insane amounts of reading (humanities degree hurrah) especially in my last two years but could you expound on your own experience and how you take notes/read quickly/summarize or just how to deal with first time grad students?

Oh, yeah for sure! A necessary disclaimer here is that I'm at a certain poncy English institution that is noted for being very bad at communicating with its students and very bad at treating its postgrad students like human beings, so a lot of these strategies I've picked up will be overkill for anyone who has the good sense to go somewhere not profoundly evil lol.

So I'll just preface this by saying that I am a very poor student in terms of doing what you're supposed to. I'm very bad at taking notes, I never learned how to do it properly, and I really, really struggle with reading dense literature. That said, I'm probably (hopefully?) going to get through this dumb degree just fine. Also — my programme is a research MPhil, not taught, so it's a teensy bit more airy-fairy in terms of structure. I had two classes in Michaelmas term, both were once a week for two hours each; two in Lent, one was two hours weekly, the other two hours biweekly; and no classes at all in Easter. I also have no exam component, I was/am assessed entirely on three essays (accounting for 30% of my overall mark) and my dissertation (the remaining 70%), which is, I think, a little different to how some other programmes are. I think even some of the other MPhils here are more strenuous than that, like Econ and Soc Hist is like 100% dissertation? Anyways, not super important, but knowing what you're getting marked on is important. I dedicated considerably less time than I did in undergrad to perfecting my coursework essays because they just don't hold as much weight now. The difference between a 68 and a 70 just wasn't worth the fuss for me, which helped keep me sane-ish.

The best advice anyone ever gave me was that, whereas an undergrad degree can kind of take over your life without it becoming a problem, you need to treat grad school like a job. That's not because it's more 'serious' or whatever, but because if you don't set a really strict schedule and keep to it, you'll burn yourself out and generally make your life miserable. Before I went back on my ADD meds at the end of Michaelmas term, I sat myself down at my desk and worked from 11sh to 1800ish every day. Now that I'm medicated, I do like 9:30-10ish to 1800-1900 (except for now that I'm crunching on my diss, where, because of my piss-poor time management skills I'm stuck doing, like, 9:30-22:30-23:00). If you do M-F 9-5, you'll be getting through an enormous amount of work and leaving yourself loads of time to still be a human being on the edges. That'll be the difference between becoming a postgrad zombie and a person who did postgrad. I am a postgrad zombie. You do not want to be like me.

The 'work' element of your days can really vary. It's not like I was actually consistently reading for all that time — my brain would have literally melted right out of my ears — but it was about setting the routine and the expectation of dedicating a certain, consistent and routinized period of time for focusing on the degree work every day. My attention span, even when I'm medicated, is garbage, so I would usually read for two or three hours, then either work on the more practical elements of essay planning, answer emails, or plot out the early stages of my research.

In the first term/semester/whatever, lots of people who are planning on going right into a PhD take the time to set up their applications and proposals. I fully intended on doing a PhD right after the MPhil, but the funding as an international student trying to deal with the pandemic proved super problematic, and I realised that the toll it was taking on my mental health was just so not worth it, so I've chosen to postpone a few years. You'll feel a big ol' amount of pressure to go into a PhD during your first time. Unless you're super committed to doing it, just try and tune it out as much as you can. There's absolutely nothing wrong with taking a year (or two, or three, or ten) out, especially given the insane conditions we're all operating under right now.

I'll be honest with you, I was a phenomenally lazy undergrad. It was only by the grace of god and being a hard-headed Marxist that I managed to pull out a first at the eleventh hour. So the difference between UG and PG has been quite stark for me. I've actually had to do the reading this year, not just because they're more specialised and relevant to my research or whatever, but because, unlike in UG, the people in the programme are here because they're genuinely interested (and not because it's an economic necessity) and they don't want to waste their time listening to people who haven't done the reading.

I am also a really bad reader. Maybe it's partially the ADD + dyslexia, but mostly it's because I just haven't practiced it and never put in the requisite effort to learn how to do it properly. My two big pointers here are learning how to skim, and learning how to prioritise your reading.

This OpenU primer on skimming is a bit condescending in its simplicity, but it gets the point across well. You're going to want to skim oh, say, 90% of the reading you're assigned. This is not me encouraging you to be lazy, it's me being honest. Not every word of every published article or book is worth reading. The vast majority of them aren't. That doesn't mean the things that those texts are arguing for aren't worth reading, it just means that every stupid rhetorical flourish included by bored academics hoping for job security and/or funding and/or awards isn't worth your precious and scarce time. Make sure you get the main thrust of each text, make sure you pull out and note down one or two case studies and move right the hell on. There will be some authors whose writing will be excellent, and who you will want to read all of. Everything else gets skimmed.

Prioritisation is the other big thing. You're going to have shitty weeks, you're probably going to have lots of them. First off, you're going to need to forgive yourself for those now — everybody has them, yes, even the people who graduated with distinctions and go on to get lovely £100,000 AHRC scholarships. Acknowledge that there will be horrible weeks, accept it now, and then strategise for how to get ahead of them. My personal strategy is to plan out what I'm trying to get out of each course I take, and then focus only on the readings that relate to that topic.

I took a course in Lent term that dealt with race and empire in Britain between 1607 and 1900; I'm a researcher of the Scottish far left from 1968-present, so the overlap wasn't significant. But I decided from the very first day of the course that I was there to get a better grasp about the racial theories of capitalism and the role of racial othering in Britain's subjugation of Ireland. Those things are helpful to me because white supremacist capitalism comes up hourly in my work on the far left, and because the relationship of the Scottish far left to Ireland is extremely important to its self definition. On weeks when I couldn't handle anything else, I just read the texts related to that. And it was fine, I did fine, I got my stupid 2:1 on the final essay, and I came out of it not too burnt out to work on my dissertation.

Here is where I encourage you to learn from my mistakes: get yourself a decent group of people who you can have in depth conversations about the material with. I was an asshole who decided I didn't need to do that with any posh C*mbr*dge twats, and I have now condemned myself to babbling incomprehensible nonsense at my partner because I don't have anyone on my course to work through my ideas with. These degrees are best experienced when they're experienced socially. In recent years (accelerated by the pandemic, ofc), universities have de-emphasised the social component of postgrad work, largely to do with stupid, long-winded stuff related to postgrad union organising etc. It's a real shame because postgrads end up feeling quite socially isolated, and because they're not having these fun and challenging conversations, their work actually suffers in the long term. This is, and I cannot stress this enough, the biggest departure from undergrad. Even the 'weak links' or whatever judgemental nonsense are there because they want to be. That is going to be your biggest asset. Talk, talk, talk. Listen, listen, listen. Offer to proofread people's papers so you get a sense of how people are thinking about things, what sort of style they're writing in, what sources they're referring to. Be a sponge and a copycat (but don't get done for plagiarism, copy like this.) Also: ask questions that seem dumb. For each of your classes, ask your tutors/lecturers who they think the most important names in their discipline are. It sounds silly, but it's really helpful to know the intellectual landscape you're dealing with, and it means you know whose work you can go running to if you get lost or tangled up during essay or dissertation writing!

You should also be really honest about everything — another piece of advice that I didn't follow and am now suffering for. The people on your courses and in your cohort are there for the same reasons as you, have more or less the same qualifications as you, and are probably going to have a lot of the same questions and insecurities as you. If you hear an unfamiliar term being used in a seminar, just speak up and ask about it, because there're going to be loads of other people wondering too. But you should also cultivate quite a transparent relationship with your supervisor. I was really cagey and guarded with mine because my hella imposter syndrome told me she was gonna throw my ass out of the programme if I admitted to my problems. Turns out no, she wouldn't, and that actually she's been a super good advocate for me. If you feel your motivation slipping or if you feel like you're facing challenges you could do with a little extra support on, go right to your supervisor. Not only is that what they're there to do, they've also done this exact experience before and are going to be way more sympathetic and aware of the realities of it than, say, the uni counselling service or whatever.

Yeah so I gotta circle back to the notes thing... I really do not take notes. It's my worst habit. Here's an example of the notes I took for my most recent meeting with my supervisor (revising a chapter draft).

No sane person would ever look at these and think this is a system worth replicating lol. But the reason they work for me is because I also record (with permission) absolutely everything. My mobile is like 90% audio recordings of meetings and seminars lol. So these notes aren't 'good' notes, but they're effective for recalling major points in the audio recording so I can listen to what was said when I need to.

Sorry none of this is remotely organised because it's like 2330 here and my brain is so soft and mushy. I'm literally just writing things as I remember them.

Right, so: theory is a big thing. Lots of people cheap out on this and it's to their own detriment. You say you're doing humanities, and tbh, most of the theory involved on the humanities side of the bridge is interdisciplinary anyways, so I'm just gonna give you some recommendations. The big thing is to read these things and try to apply them to what you're writing about. This sounds so fucking condescending but getting, like, one or two good theoretical frameworks in your papers will actually put you leaps and bounds beyond the students around you and really improve your research when the time comes. Also: don't read any of these recommendations without first watching, like an intro youtube video or listening to a podcast. The purists will tell you that's the wrong way to do it, but I am a lazy person and lazy people always find the efficient ways to do things, so I will tell the purists to go right to hell.

Check out these impenetrable motherfuckers (just one or two will take your work from great to excellent, so don't feel obliged to dig into them all):

Karl Marx and Fredrich Engels (I'm not just pushing my politics, but also, I totally am) — don't fucking read Capital unless you're committed to it. Oh my god don't put yourself through that unless you really have to. Try, like, the 18th Brumaire of Louis Napoleon for the fun quotes, and Engels on the family.

Frantz Fanon — Wretched of the Earth. Black Skin White Masks also good, slightly more impossible to read

Benedict Anderson — Imagined Communities. It's about nationalism, but you will be surprised at how applicable it is to... so many other topics

Judith Butler — she really sucks to read. I love her. But she sucks to read. If you do manage to read her though, your profs will love you because like 90% of the people who say they've read her are lying

Bourdieu — Distinction is good for a lot of things, but especially for introducing the idea of social and cultural capital. There's basically no humanities sub-discipline that can't run for miles on that alone.

Crenshaw — the genesis of intersectionality. But, like, actually read her, not the ingrates who came after her and defanged intersectionality into, like, rainbow bombs dropped over Gaza.

The other thing is that you should read for fun. My programme director was absolutely insistent that we all continue to read for pleasure while we did this degree, not just because it's good for destressing, but because keeping your cultural horizons open actually makes your writing better and more interesting. I literally read LOTR for the first time in, like February, and the difference in my writing and thinking from before and after is tangible, because not only did it give me something fun to think about when I was getting stressy, but it also opened up lots of fun avenues for thought that weren't there before. I read LOTR and wanted to find out more about English Catholics in WWI, and lo and behold something I read about it totally changed how I did my dissertation work. Or, like, a girl on my course who read the Odyssey over Christmas Break and then started asking loads of questions about the role of narrative creation in the archival material she was using. It was seriously such a good edict from our director.

Also, oh my god, if you do nothing else, please take this bit seriously: forgive yourself for the bad days. The pressure in postgrad is fucking unreal. Nobody, nobody is operating at 100% 100% of the time. If you aim for 60% for 80% of the time and only actually achieve 40% for 60% of the time, you will still be doing really fucking well. Don't beat yourself up unnecessarily. Don't make yourself feel bad because you're not churning out publishable material every single day. Some days you just need to lie on the couch, order takeout, and watch 12 hours of Jeopardy or whatever, and I promise you that that is a good and worthwhile thing to do. You don't learn and grow without rest, so forgive yourself for the moments and days of unplanned rest, and forgive yourself for when you don't score as highly as you want to, and forgive yourself when you say stupid things in class or don't do all of (or any of) the class reading.

Uhhhh I think I'm starting to lose the plot a bit now. Honestly, just ping me whatever questions you have and I'm happy to answer them. There's a chance I'll be slower to respond over the next few days because my dissertation is due in a week (holy fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) but I will definitely respond. And honestly, no question is too dumb lol. I wish I'd been able to ask someone about things like what citation management software is best or how to set up a desk for maximum efficiency or whatever, but I was a scaredy-cat about it and didn't. So yeah, ask away and I will totally answer.

#asks

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