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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

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An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 2)

Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

Just three days after the first installation and 4,000 words? That’s right baby! Because I run on validation and whew! Y’all provided. The courting gift scene based on a recommendation from @tempered-char. Also with a hint of Geralt’s Delicate Sensibilities, as inspired by @valdomarx +Thicc Eskel as a bonus

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“Come in.”

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door.

Geralt wasn’t a romantic. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. From what he’d seen of the world he wasn’t so sure he believed in love at all. He could imagine, however, that if he were a painter or a poet he could have fallen in love right there.

The room was a tiny, dusty study, and standing in front of the window was, presumably, Julian. The light haloed him, dust mites floating down. Grey-blue doublet and slightly darker pants brought out clear, bright eyes, rimmed with thick lashes.

He had a rounder jawline, the sort that was in style with painters at the moment. It leant a softness to his face. Maybe that was the fact that he was...nineteen? Geralt couldn’t remember.

He realized he was staring and bowed. It was awkard, still holding his gift and the gift from the countess. He looked up, Julian was smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Julian,” Geralt said. “I am Geralt of Rivia.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Geralt, and please, call me Jaskier,” said the young man. He stuck out his hand. Geralt quickly shifted the gifts to one hand and shook.

The hand was soft but not uncalloused, at the fingertips and base of the thumb. Long fingers, good for playing the lute that sat, gleaming and well cared for, in the corner.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, tasting the name. It was a good name, bright and pretty and a deadly poison if treated incorrectly. “I have a gift for you, and her ladyship gave me a gift but I haven’t opened it yet.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat on a plush chair, gesturing Geralt to one opposite. “I have my own gift for you,” he said. “Father and Amaria didn’t think I could get my own courting gifts.”

Geralt decided to give up on subtlety. He wanted answers and he hoped this young man, Jaskier, was willing to give them.

“They want rid of you,” he said. It was a question but without the inflection at the end. “Enough to marry you off to a witcher.”

Jaskier sighed. “Just father, Amaria doesn’t have much to do with anything these days.”

“She seemed...” Geralt trailed off, not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It’s all about heirs,” Jaskier said, standing and beginning to pace. “Suitable heirs, which I’m not.” He sent Geralt a bitter little smile and flopped back down. “My father is not a nice man, you see. He’s never taken kindly to disagreements, and to him there’s only one ‘right’ sort of man. Men like him, manly and strong who kill first and don’t bother asking questions later. I questioned him, maybe three years ago, I didn’t think he should raise taxes again. He doesn’t forgive that sort of slight.”

Jaskier leaned forward, elbows on knees and stared at the ground for a second.

“I think he’d decided long before that, but he wants me struck from the family tree.” Jaskier looked up at Geralt. Some of his confusion must have been showing on his face.

This world of heirs and court intrigue was far from anything Geralt knew, and seemed more complicated than necessary.

“Follow me,” Jaskier said, rising and stretching out his hand again. “You can leave the gifts, we’ll be back.” Geralt set dow the gifts and hesitantly stretched out his hand, unsure if the gesture was figurative or if he was actually supposed to take it. Jaskier took him gently by the wrist and led him from the room.

“The halls are a maze,” he said, letting go a coridor later. “Follow close behind me, you could get lost.” Geralt did so. He couldn’t imagine anything more embarassing than having a footman fetch him from one of these little stone tunnels.

They emerged in yet another dusty hall, lined with tapestries. Jaskier stopped in between two, and in front of a large, painted wooden panel. It had a tree.

A family tree.

“My father,” Jaskier said, tracing his finger along dusty, painted branches. “Finds it very important that the next Earl be his direct blood, and also his kind of man.” He looked at Geralt significantly. “That meant ridding himself of Amaria’s sons from her first marriage, by the laws of our country, he could have been heir. That also means getting rid of me.”

This explanation did not help Geralt’s bafflement. Jaskier sighed again, although he didn’t seem to be doing so at Geralt.

“Amaria had two sons, both manly and well suited to my father, but not his direct blood. And they were older than me, set to inherit the role of Earl first. They met with horrible accidents.” A shadow passed of Jaskier’s boyish face.

“Strange coincidence, how a large rock managed to tumble from the ramparts on to Isak not even a week after the same thing happened to Tomas. Especially since there’s not rocks up there. I checked.”

“Your father,” Geralt said, a little numbly. “Had his stepson’s murdered.” He knew nobility could be nasty but still... “And we’ve made a deal with him.”

Jaskier patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much about it, Father mostly doesn’t do too much harm these days, and Filip, that’s my half brother, seems like he’ll turn out okay. Then again, he’s only seven.”

“Is he going to have you killed?” Geralt asked, knowing as he did that the Earl was trying, by way of marrying Jaskier to him.

“Not exactly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m blood or just because another ‘accident’ would look suspicious, but there’s an easier way.” Jaskier pointed to a name circled in blue. “That’s my aunt Matylda, father’s older sister. She got married, which officially makes her part of her husband’s family tree, not ours, and she can no longer inherit,” Jaskier paused. “If she weren’t already a woman, I mean.”

“But we’re both men,” Geralt said. “I could just as easily become part of your family tree and then your father’s problem.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, “In theory, but of course that isn’t how he played it. I’ll be an honorary witcher, and my name,” here he tapped some fine script. “Will be circled in blue and removed from the line.”

They both looked at the tree, looming darkly for a while.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt offered, although he supposed it wasn’t worth much.

“I’m sorry too,” Jaskier said. “You shouldn’t be roped into all this.”

Geralt privately considered that, yes, while he would have preferred to avoid all this intrigue and politics, Jaskier didn’t seem too bad.

Jaskier led him back through the stone rabbit warren that made up the bowels of the castle.

“Is her ladyship...like that, because of the death of her sons?” Geralt asked when they paused at the top of a staircase.

Jaskier cocked his head sadly, and then continued walking. Aftr a few more paced he said, “Yes, mostly. She wasn’t always...present, I suppose before but when they died so close together, and in such an awful way-- there’s nothing nice about a block of stone dropping on you from four stories up--something broke. She’s a nice lady, just happier living in her head, I think. Maybe she goes somewhere else, where her boys and her first husband are alive, I hope.”

They arrived back at the study without another word.

They sat.

“I, um.” Geralt said. “Hmmm. I got you,” he proferred the package, not knowing what to say and begging Jaskier to save him from trying to figure it out.

Jaskier took the package and pulled the string so that it fell open. The doublet slithered out. Vesemir had sent a letter asking for measurements as soon as Geralt had told him the idea.

“It’s basilisk leather,” Geralt said. “Witchers, um, our Path, it can be dangerous, so you should have this.”

Jaskier held up the fabric, watching the colors, deep blue and green, shift across the slick material. Privately, and for no reason Geralt could really guess at, he was very pleased, both that the doublet was in what seemed to be Jaskier’s colors, and also at the awe struck look on his face.

“It’s as light as silk,” Jaskier said, passing the fabric between his fingers. “And you said it’s leather?”

“Basilisk leather,” Geralt said. Monsters. They were talking about monsters, which he knew about. Thank the gods. “It’s like armor, and it won’t burn or get wet, water just runs off.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as basilisk leather,” Jaskier said, holding the doublet up. “Where did you get it? It’s incredible.”

Geralt coughed modestly, and tried not to puff his chest. “I killed the basilisk. Making the leather needs different skills than normal tanning, it’s more like potion making.” He remembered that most people knew little about witcher skills and needs. “All witchers know some alchemy, and we make potions for combat so I...I tanned it. My brother Lambert drew up the design, I don’t know much about clothes.”

The tailor had nearly cried when they’d presented him with the fabric, exclaiming about it’s luster and the ‘glorious smooth hand’, whatever that meant.

Geralt watched Jaskier’s face anxiously. It wasn’t a courtly gift, no crown of pearls or whatever nobles expected, but it had taken him two months to turn the basilisk skin into leather. It would have taken him half the time but he’d had to do it on the road. Lambert had fussed about the design for almost a week too, and it had been Eskel’s idea to ask for the buttons to be little black pearls like that.

Vesemir had smiled at the team effort, calling it the wolves gift to their new pup.

Jaskier looked up at him, face like a sunbeam.

“Can I try it on?”

Geralt just nodded, and looked away modestly as Jaskier divested himself of his previous doublet before buttoning the basilisk leather.

He twirled, and in the light from the window the fabric seemed to glow, shifting and turning with each movement.

“And it really will keep me safe?” he asked, looking down at himself, beaming.

Geralt nodded. “It would take a battle axe a dozen tries to pierce it.”

Jaskier smiled at him again, and it made Geralt’s stomach tingle, although he had eaten some suspect meat on the ride to Lettenhove. Then Jaskier threw his arms around his neck.

Geralt wasn’t old fashioned. He could move with the times, whatever Lambert said, but manners had been stiffer sixty years ago and Geralt was just thankful that Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his ears going red.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaskier said, pulling back. “Thank you.”

Geralt shrugged uncomfortably. Jaskier smelled like soap and some sort of oil. Linseed maybe, probably for the wood of his lute.

“I have a gift for you, it’s not as lovely, but I hope you like it.”

Geralt carefully took the package. It was wrapped much prettier than his had been. “The countess already...”

“That was from her,” Jaskier said dismissively. “And maybe even from Father, although I doubt it, he wouldn’t waste money on me. But this gift is from me.” He sat forward eagerly. “Go on, open it.”

Geralt wasn’t about to refuse that eager, open expression, so he pulled at the ribbon, feeling rather like a bear trying to tie a shoelace.

The bright paper just fell away and there was a stiff paper box. He opened that too.

Three glass bottles sat inside, nestled in paper. The paper was only there to keep them from clinking because as he pulled one out he saw the telltale dark sheen.

Brimstone glass. It was unbreakable. Sometimes witchers carried their more noxious potions in it but rarely, it was frighteningly expensive, usually only mages could afford it.

“How?” he said. How did you afford it? How did you know it existed? Did you know witchers use potions? He looked up at Jaskier, who looked nervous.

“Are they alright?” he said. “Only I won them off a sorceror in a pub. He told me they were indestructible and threw one at the ground to prove it. I thought they’d be useful...Was it a trick?” He looked so upset at the prospect.

“These, Geralt said, “Are Brimstone Glass, they are indeed indestructible and very, very useful.” Jaskier’s face split into a grin again.

“Thank you,” Geralt said. It didn’t seem like enough, but if he hugged the lad like Jaskier had him he would kill him.

“Should I open the box from the countess?”

“Do,” Jaskier said. “I want to know what it is.”

The latch flicked easily under Geralt’s hand and the lid popped open.

Jaskier gasped.

“It’s my mother’s ring,” he said. “I don’t remember her well, but I remember her hands...”

It was a beautiful ring, opal, if Geralt was any judge, but Eskel knew stones better than him. Silver wound around the stone, with smaller gems studding the setting to either side.

“I will use it in the ceremony,” Geralt said, offering it to Jaskier. “If it fits.”

“It won’t fit,” Jaskier said sadly. “Mother had very small hands, but it’s a nice thought.”

Geralt looked at the ring and Jaskier’s left hand. “Try it?”

Jaskier did, sliding the ring onto his finger easily. He looked at it in amazement.

“Amaria must have had it enlarged,” he said.

“A good gift,” Geralt said, although not sure who the gift was really for.

There came a polite knock at the door, interupting the moment, whatever sort of moment it was.

“My lord, it is time for supper.”

Damn.

Jaskier slipped the ring back into the box and Geralt looked away as he changed into his regular doublet. He didn’t look away fast enough and caught a scandalous glimpse of collarbone and soft chest hair where the chemise got pulled down a little. The air felt a little stuffy suddenly.

The gifts, and Geralt was proud to see that Jaskier folded the doublet carefully back into the paper, although nothing could have harmed it, were handed to a footman to be taken back to their respective rooms.Geralt offered Jaskier his arm, like he’d seen the nobility do, and then Jaskier led him to the dining hall.

To his relief, the hall wasn’t packed. They were what Lambert would call ‘fashionably late’ (and what Vesemir would call a reason for three extra laps) and all the guests were seated. A table held Lady Amaria and a man who must be the Earl, although there was little visible resemblance to Jaskier. They were seated with perhap half a dozen other nobles, as well as a red headed boy of about seven, Filip, probably, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. There was another table of presumably more minor nobility, and then a small table with the wolves, two seats still empty.

All eyes turned to look at the pair. Jaskier bowed deeply, and since his arm was still linked with Geralt’s he was made to bow too, or else risk having his arm pulled from its socket. Then they made their way to the smallest table.

Geralt pulled out Jaskier’s chair for him and saw Vesemir’s approving nod, as well as Lambert’s smirk. He didn’t see the swift kick Eskel delivered below the table, but caught the way Lambert’s eyes watered suddenly, and smiled at his brother in thanks for the retribution. Then he sat.

“Julian,” Vesemir said, reaching over the table to shake hands. “I am Vesemir, Geralt’s teacher. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I am happy to make your aquaintance, Master Vesemir,” Jaskier said, and Geralt was impressed that he only winced a little bit as Vesemir inadvertently crushed his knuckles in a grip that could moor a boat. He did, however, gently shake out his fingers under the table once he’d been released.

“If you please, however,” Jaskier continued as if nothing had happened. “I prefer my nickname, Jaskier.”

“Jaskier it is, then,” Vesemir said, moustache twitching up at the corners. Geralt suspected he was thinking the same as he had done. Buttercups, pretty and poisonous.

“You were educated at Oxenfurt, is that correct?” Eskel said.

“Yes, in the fine arts, although I specialized in music composition and lute performance. I didn’t catch your name...?” The most delicate question mark was added to the end of the statement. Eskel blushed, Jaskier wouldn’t know it, but Geralt could see the back of his neck reddening.

“Eskel,” he said quickly. “And the asshole who’s snickering is Lambert.”

Jaskier didn’t look even a little intimidated by either of Geralt’s brothers, which was impressive, because Lambert could scowl like it was a contest and Eskel, although only an inch taller than Geralt, was naturally hugely muscled in a way even the mutagens hadn’t managed for Geralt. His chest and arms looked like they’d withstand a siege weapon.

Jaskier turned a smile on Lambert, who was sputtering indignantly at Eskel’s entirely fair description.

“I’m told you helped with my beautiful courting gift,” he said. Then he turned the smile on all of the wolves. “A team effort I imagine.”

This stunned all three brothers, and made Vesemir smile. Lambert shrugged uncomfortably. For all his prickliness, he couldn’t take a compliment.

“Eskel’s idea for the buttons,” he muttered, and Geralt knew he’d been entirely won over.

“The buttons are beautiful,” Jaskier said, smiling warmly at Eskel now, who looked like he’d rather be facing a mountain troll.

“Was Vesemir that got your measurements,” he said, looking down at the tablecloth. Jaskier beamed at the whole table then.

“Truly a team effort, thank you all, it’s beautiful and I cannot wait to wear it.” With that the whole table was well and truly won over by Jaskier. Geralt couldn’t help but brag a little.

“Jaskier gave me Brimstone Glass bottles as a courting gift,” he said, and preened slightly under the others’ slightly jealous noises of amazement. Jaskier flushed a very pretty pink.

“I just thought they’d be useful,” he said, although his smile was pleased.

Serving girls entered the hall with trays and the chatter in the hall expanded excitedly. A plump young woman set a tray down at their table and Eskel hummed in appreciation.

“It smells delicious,” he said. She smiled at him, looked him up and down, and then winked.

“Oh doesn’t it just, I could just eat it all up,” she said, not looking at the food even as she lifted the cloche from the appetizers. Then she winked and disappeared back into the kitchen. Another girl appeared and filled the goblets but the witchers hardly noticed for laughing at Eskel’s face.

“Seems Mabel took a liking to you,” Jaskier said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Through his own laughter, Geralt watched Jaskier’s father glaring at their table. Good. The old fuck could choke on it, he didn’t look like he’d ever laughed a day in his life.

“Careful though,” Jaskier was saying. “She looked ready to take a bite out of you.”

“But,” Eskel gestured, baffled to his face.

“Oh pish,” Jaskier said, taking a swig of wine. “Nobody cares about that sort of thing, do they? Plenty of ladies around here like a few scars, makes men look rugged and dangerous.”

“Rugged?” Eskel rubbed his hand over his face, contemplating.

“Definitely,” said Jaskier, nodding. He took one of the appetizers. Geralt moved a few to his own plate and slowly their little table descended into a quiet contentment. The appetizers were good, hors d'oeuvres , Geralt remembered Lambert telling him once. They were little bits of paste, meat and vegetable mostly, inside pastry casings.

He smiled when he noticed that he and his brothers were all looking between Jaskier and Vesemir to make sure they hadn’t missed any manners. Eskel swiped Lambert’s elbows off the table.

Eventually the appetizers were replaced with soup. The saucy kitchen girl, Mabel, Jaskier had called her, made a positively salacious remark to Eskel. Something daring about him licking everything clean. Eskel smiled faintly and turned redder than the beet soup.

“You should flirt back,” Jaskier said, once Mabel was gone. “If you’re actually interested, I mean.”

“It’s not that I’m not. Interested I mean,” Eskel squeaked. “But I can’t offer her anything, no marriage or security.”

Jaskier looked at him. It was definitely a look, although not a nasty one. “She asked you to lick her clean and you think that was an invitation to marriage?”

“I wouldn’t want to defile...”

“Oh shut up Eskel, sex doesn’t defile anything. It’s natural and normal and if you think it some how ‘decreases the value’ of a woman than you aren’t the man I thought you to be.” Lambert cut in. “Have some fun, maybe she can remove the stick you’ve lodged up your ass.”

“You’re right, of course,” Eskel said. But now Jaskier was looking worried.

“It won’t be a problem, right?” he asked Geralt. “That I’m not, um a virgin, I mean?”

“No,” Geralt said, probably missing the mark on reassuring, but doing his best. “Unless you mind that I’m not one either. And there is no fidelity clause, and no consummation, you needn’t sleep with me, and you’re free to see other people.”

Jaskier looked at first relieved and then impish, licking the soup from his spoon in a way that made significant parts of Geralt’s brain go numb. “I dunno,” he said, leaning towards Geralt and bumping him with a shoulder. “I can’t imagine consumation with you would be such a chore.”

Melitele’s great gauzy veil, this boy would be the death of him.

There was a pause between soup and the main course, but when Mabel picked up the dishes Eskel leaned towards her and asked if he’d licked it clean enough, to the woman’s obvious approval.

They sat and chatted, Jaskier, Eskel, and Vesemir debated over some old literature that Geralt had never heard of, and then they were interuppted with a cough.

The earl stood, face like stone, beside their table.

They rose. Vesemir bowed.

“My Lord,” he said. “It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance. I am Vesemir, of the school of the wolf.”

Lord Pankratz inclined his head. “Greetings, Master Vesemir,” he said. “I wish to discuss some of the terms of the contract with you.”

He snapped his fingers and a footman brought him a chair, without waiting for Vesemir’s response.

The wolves sat, feeling wary. Jaskier was looking down at his hands, shoulders shrunk in.

They sat in suspense as Vesemir and Lord Pankratz hashed out details of the legal protections. The main course appeared and the earl stood, and bowed.

“Why don’t we continue this after desert,” he said, smiling smoothly. And it was a very smooth smile. Like an oil slick.

Dinner after that was subdued, despite Eskel returning Mabel’s flirtations. Jaskier looked down at his plate most of the time and the witchers picked up on his unease.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt whispered.

“I don’t know, but he’s planning something, and I don’t like it.”

Then coffee was served after dessert, and the Earl de Lettenhove sat at their table again.

“Now, for what I really wanted to discuss, I know political marriages can be...challenging,” the earl said in a voice like a snake. “But I wanted to make it clear, should either member express a wish to anul the marriage, the contract will become void.” Here he squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder so hard he winced. “I couldn’t bear for my dear Julian to be unhappy, you see. He’s high maintainance I know, but I wish him the best.”

The earl smiled a despicable little smile. “Now, I think you two shouldn’t really see more of each other before the wedding, yes? Bad luck and all.”

The earl then hauled Jaskier away by his collar.

“What a cunt,” Lambert said.

“I figured that was in the contract anyway,” Geralt said. “Isn’t that normally how it works?”

Vesemir nodded. “Indeed, it’s how these marriages go. But I expect the earl is betting that the two of you wont be able to stand eachother, and so he gets rid of his son and doesn’t have to help witchers all in one go.”

“Yes, Jaskier explained things.”

And then Geralt told his family what Jaskier had told him. The suspicious accidents, the laws, the family tree.

“I agree with Lambert,” Eskel said. “What a gigantic fucking cunt.”

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What’s with my thing about clothing descriptions and fancy cloth? I’m a fashion design major, that’s what.

We’ve got answers about Amaria, and the reason for the engagement, but what’s the wedding going to be like? oooh, cliffhanger, but not too much so I hope it makes up for last time when I was so bad to you all.

Tag List! @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam@sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest@innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna

@ailorian @toothhurtyam I’m having trouble adding you, I can’t tag if this is a password protected side blog or if you have Allow Blog to Appear in Search Results off, I think.

#geraskier #the witcher #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #its part two y'all #and the earl is a slimy sob

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

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Hello! First of all I have to say that your writing is the best I have read so far and you have a way with words that has me going crazy at 3 am 🤣🤣 I wanted to suggest a short story where Levi and the reader have feelings for each other and are on a mission together. Then it starts to rain and it gets really cold at night so they’re forced to seek shelter and have to spend the night together in an abandoned old house until the rain stops, and they basically get to know each other better and eventually start flirting ya know ya know? 😗Thank you so much and please feel free to add any more ideas you may have 😁

ahhh the classic, stuck with a stranger trope. I dig it :)

Summary: You spend a rainy night with your bitter captain

Word Count: 1.8K

The rain felt like needles as you rode into the wind, your cloak felt heavy and waterlogged as you struggled to see through the shower. You had lost your squad, leaving you alone in the middle of titan country. Your gear felt light, meaning that your blades were nearly gone and gas as well. In other words, you were royally fucked.

Your horse was huffing, sides rising and falling deeply as she tried to hold the pace you had set. Her head bobbed and you threaded your fingers through her mane and stood on the saddle to ease the weight on her back, and allow her to resume her natural gait.

Just as you emerged from the thin thicket of trees you had been riding in, you spotted a small cabin, and a black horse tied up out front. You recognized Captain Levi’s stallion and felt relief flood through you. You steered your mare towards the squat building and swung off once she came to a halt. Tying her up next to Levi’s stallion before jogging up the stairs. You lifted your hand and pounded on the door, a flash of lightning illuminated your form when Levi pulled the door open. His hair was dripping wet as was his clothes.

“Cadet (L/n), surprised you made it this far.” He scoffed before turning and stalking back into the cabin.

“Captain....the formation is broken.” You stated the obvious, unsure of how to respond to his jab.

“No shit, this damn rain fucks with the signals. Seen it before.” You almost weren’t sure if he even said the last part since he muttered it so quietly.

“So what do we do?” You asked, clutching your cloak anxiously.

“We wait it out idiot.” Levi grunted as he began rummaging around the small cabin’s kitchen drawers.

“What...about the formation?”

“The formation doesn’t exist anymore, what matters now is getting back to the wall.”

You remained silent, stunned by the gravity of the situation you’d found yourself in.

“Shitty eyebrows needs to stop putting the fucking formation on a pedestal, you brats need to learn how to act at your own discretion.” Levi continued as he pawed through a drawer, he pulled his hand out holding two stones. Flint, to be precise, he had already taken some of the firewood that had been sitting in the cabin and chucked it into the fireplace. You wondered how long it had sat there in the lonely cabin, who had gathered it? A child maybe? When you were younger, you had lived on a farm with your family, raising horses for the military. One of your many jobs had been to get firewood. You wondered what had happened to the people who lived here before, wondered if they could ever return.

“Oi, take off those boots. Just because nobody’s lived here in three years doesn’t mean you get to track mud inside.” He scolded and you quickly stripped yourself of your mud caked boots.

“Yes sir.” You grumbled as you numbly wandered into the kitchen, pausing when you found a small corn husk doll, very similar to the ones you once made. You picked it up, cradling its head as you held it up in the dim light. The sound of stones clicking and then the crackle of a small fire brought you back. You turned to see Levi hanging his cloak and jacket by the flames.

“Take off your cloak and jacket.” He ordered and you placed the doll down to fulfill his command. You shivered in just your shirt, which was soaked, the olive colored fabric nearly see through due to the wetness. Levi averted his eyes as he snatched your jacket and cloak from you. You dropped down to sit on the floor near the fire, staring into the flames as you allowed your mind to wander. Levi sat down as well, crossing his legs and closing his eyes as he tried to even out his breathing. The only sound was the crackling fire and the patter of rain on the old roof. You had nearly forgotten how it sounded, having lived in the castle for years now, the cozy cabin brought you back to your childhood. And before you could think better of it, you asked:

“Where are you from captain?”

“None of your concern.” He grunted, eyes still closed and face lacking any signs of emotion.

“Well, where I’m from, when it rained like this...we’d go outside and-”

“I didn’t fucking ask. Now shut up and go to sleep or something.”

“There’s no need to be so bitter Captain.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and angling your shoulders away from him, the sting of his words. You sighed heavily and fell flat on your back, staring up at the rafters, a drop of water seeped through and landed right on your nose and you let out a huff of disgust.

“....Look” Levi’s voice was heavy and less annoyed than previously.

“If talking...makes you feel better about all of this....then I guess I don’t mind listening.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, bangs obscuring the top half of his face as he studied you, splayed out on the floor.

“....Thanks.”

“As I was saying, when I was younger, I used to be scared of thunder storms. But my grandma, she would make this cake. She called it thunder cake.” You closed your eyes and a dreamy smile curled onto your lips. Levi felt a pang of jealousy, being nearly 28, one would think that he could get over his childhood. But he just couldn’t seem to, he wished he grew up in the sunshine, known his family, gotten to be scared of thunder instead of men in the underground.

“-it wasn’t really anything special, just a lemon cake. But making it during the storm...she said it was magic, and you know.....I believed her.” Your voice cracked and Levi frowned, he remembered that naivety, how his mother would tell him about fairies or goblins. He had believed those stories for a time as well. But when she had died, he no longer saw beauty in the world. How could he?

“She was so smart Captain. She knew everything, how to treat a tooth ache, how to make the best bread, break a horse. I wish I could be half as wise as her.” You continued, Levi turned to look at you, your usually bright eyes seemed distant and foggy, mouth screwed into a frown, your bottom lip trembling.

“When she died, I felt so alone. I couldn’t compare, how could I? She was so strong and, I was just a shitty kid.” You scoffed bitterly, Levi understood your pain deeply, loosing people was something he was all too familiar with. He blindly reached out and let his hand awkwardly fall over your own. You froze, head turning to look at him.

“How about you? What did your...parent do to help you through the scary parts?” You asked, eyes wide and hopeful. Levi’s jaw locked as he tried to wrack his brain for something to say, you had just been so vulnerable with him. How could he not repay the favor? Especially if the two of you would die in this shitty cabin.

“She would....give me a bath, or we’d clean the house.” He said with a curt nod, remembering his mother pouring soapy water over him after he had scrapped his knee, or cried so hard that his eyes were nearly swollen shut. Yes, that was the truth, they would take a bath and then she’d tell him those shitty stories.

“That sounds nice.” You said wistfully as you turned your hand to lace your fingers with his. You sensed his tension and decided to carry on telling your own story.

“I hated cleaning, my grandma used it as punishment for me. Like when I was 10 I threw eggs at the neighbor boy after he lifted my skirt up.” You chuckled lowly at the memory.

“Sounds like he deserved it.” Levi said with the smallest of smiles. You beamed up at him and nodded.

“Yeah, he sure did. My grandma made me clean the coop for two weeks after that, and the stables.” You giggled, squeezing his hand as you laughed. He felt another wave of jealousy, wishing he had memories like yours.

“And you? Did you ever get in trouble?” You asked, rolling onto your side, pulling your hand free from his, he immediately missed the contact, not that he would admit it though.

“That’s all I did when I was younger.” Levi scoffed, looking down at you with a gleam of amusement in his gaze.

“What kind of trouble?” You pressed, resting your chin on your palm as you stared up at him.

“I bet it was with girls, you seem to be popular with the cadets.” You teased and Levi’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“No, more like I was stealing and selling government property illegally.” He scoffed, reaching his hand down to ruffle your damp hair, you let out a bark of laughter as he grabbed the roots of your hair and shook your head playfully.

“Yeah right, you’re the strictest of all the squad leaders, as if I would believe-”

“I grew up in the underground, didn’t matter down there, just did what I had to do to put food on the table.” He shrugged, trying to keep the atmosphere light, yet stay honest with you.

“No way....that’s impressive captain-”

“Levi, call me Levi.” He said, withdrawing his hand and leaning back against the couch that was behind the two of you.

“Okay then...Levi, I call bullshit.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow and beaming up at him. Levi glared down at you, not sure if he liked the defiance or loathed it. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, but your eyes never strayed from his and he let out a scoff.

“It’s true, I was born a bastard and escaped through the military.” You raised your brows at this, you hadn’t expected him to be honest.

“I...admire you for that, takes a strong person to overcome things like that.” You said a tad sheepishly as you averted your gaze, feeling like you had overstepped some boundaries.

“We all face our own challenges..” Levi muttered, eyes still locked on you.

“That is true.” You agreed, with a small smile thrown his way. The rain still pounded against the windows and your gaze strayed to them, watching the water stream off of the roof.

“This will all be a bad memory in the morning.” Levi said, following your gaze, he recalled how you said you’d been afraid of thunder when you were younger. He wondered if you still harbored that fear.

“I don’t think it will, I hope I can look back on it fondly.” You said, turning and smiling softly up at him, and Levi’s stomach began doing flips, his cheeks flushing at the sentiment behind your words.

“Yeah....whatever, just go to sleep brat.” He grunted, reaching down and ruffling your hair once more, you giggled and laid down, soothed to sleep by the feeling of his hand in your hair and the sound of rain on window panes.

#levi #Levi fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #Levi x You #levi x y/n #levi x reader insert #reader insert #levi is soft for u #rainy night #aot fandom #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman #attack on titan

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ididntwanttohavetohauntyou · 4 years

Text

so i may have rambled... and poked every hole (that i could think of off the top of my head) in the “straight” narrative...

this is basically the same kind of bullet point thing that antis did for us, and if someone could actually like send this to an anti, i really do wanna get answers to these questions...

just another thing, this isn’t meant to be rude, or insulting, but i figured it was our turn to ask questions.

and again, if i didn’t mention something here it’s because i didn’t think about it as i was writing this... but if it gets pointed out i will happily add it (as long as it has facts or is so inherently gay that it doesn’t even exist within a million light years of straightness)

i tried to leave folklore off as much as possible, because i honestly think taylor’s not done with that but i couldn’t resist putting a few folklore questions. just the obvious ones i promise

okay anyway...

the "dark jeans and your nikes" line from delicate? joe was only seen with dark jeans and nikes like 3 days before delicate came out. what’s up with that? like correct me if i’m wrong, but that was the first time, right?

the invisible string could've been that joe happened to audition for tay's fav movie but it was something about a yogurt shop shirt that was teal, but then we figured out it wasn't actually teal because joe worked there before they changed the shirt color from black to teal. so, like why not use the love actually thing? especially if she knows we become detectives when she puts out music and we would figure out that the color was wrong? the only explanation i have is that she wanted us to see that

and then there's the fact that london boy is satire... i mean she writes about beautiful skies the entire lover album but writes about stormy london weather in london boy and how much she loves it. why would she write about gorgeous skies for the rest of the album, but about gray ones in london?

speaking of beautiful skies, she literally said the bi flag in order... "gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies". (no joke, even tho i'm bi, i remember the order of the colors on the flag with that lyric, but that’s just me).

then there's cruel summer. which garden gate did she sneak in through? which summer? the one she spent galivanting around with tom? and no offense to taylor, but if she had been with all the men she had supposedly been with, why would a man's body be new?

and why is he gold? or her "angel bf"? i mean, karlie was an angel for years and i’m quite sure she returned in 2017 for that year only... and then there’s that one outfit where she had angel wings that are gold...

and why does taylor sing "our country guess it was a lawless land" if he's from england?

why does she always sing about nyc? why is she (nyc) her lover's fav town if he said in an interview he preferred london? and why is her lover the west village?

why did she parade around in pride flags to the point where lgbtq+ celebs would usually say "you support us and that's great but that's queerbaiting" and yet get no backlash from them?

then there's the references to religion, falling from grace, all of that. nobody says that a woman and a man can't be together. literally nobody. so why the heck does she need to fall from grace for her lover? i know from personal experience that it’s hard to grow up surrounded by people telling you that being gay is a sin and it gives you a certain sense of hopelessness. just the other day my dad referred to straight couples as “more normal” and called trans people “those people”. that’s what it’s like living in the south

why did she confirm delicate was for the gays by wearing a rainbow dress on tour, singing it with “lesbian jesus”, and later liking a tumblr post about it?

speaking of “lesbian jesus”, why'd she perform curious of all songs in that surprise performance with hayley? i mean... look at the lyrics and tell me performing that, along with the “SOUNDS FAKE” caption isn’t jealousy

why do they (taylor and joe) only show up together right before or after one of them releases something?

how did they even meet? i know there’s the whole “your buzzcut my hair bleached” line, but if we have pictures and videos of taylor dancing with tom and karlie at the met, why aren’t there any of her with joe? and let’s say they met by the bathroom or something away from the cameras... how did she have time to apparently become best friends with him (to then be able to say she didn’t want him like one in several songs) while being with tom, juggling kimye and the horrible rumors?

speaking of tom again, why did she even get with tom? it’s not like she was thinking “i’m so taken by this guy that when i met him it was love at first sight, but i’m gonna travel the world with this other guy for three months instead of being with the guy i’m in love with”.

who is so it goes... about? like, calvin? i mean, the guy who she collaborated with said he had just become a father, which implies it was his first kid. as in march 2015, possibly prior to her dating calvin.

what is DWOHT about? (and please not that crap about it being about sex, i don’t think i could take people reducing such a beautiful song to a song about sex.)

what is the ...ready for it? mv about? the way i interpreted it was her breaking her glass closet with her voice (her lyrics that are, in my opinion, blatantly gay)

what are all of those pronoun switches live about? she definitely knows the words to her own songs right? i mean she knew the words and choreo to a different artist’s song (hello curious and hayley!)... or a few different artists’ songs I guess...

why would she make fun of a british guy’s accent if it most definitely was not her first british guy? just a thought

i’ve been refraining from putting folklore stuff on here, but are the characters in the teenage love triangle based on blake and ryan’s daughter or not? and if they are, why aren’t they all girls? or at least james?

if the gp started putting james as a “they” in articles, why can’t you guys stop bringing up the time she said it was from a guy’s pov? and just saying, that’s the same time she contradicted herself in one breath by saying the names were those of her friends’ daughters...

and since i’ve talked about folklore a bit anyway, I might as well bring up seven. what do you guys think that song is about? because for me at least, it pretty much encapsulates being gay (not straight) as a kid, whether you knew it or not. to paraphrase some amazing tumblr bloggers, seven is that one friendship that was short and sweet, and for some reason you remember it forever. you remember days spent in the park, braiding hair, playing hide and seek etc. but if you saw that person fifteen years later, you probably wouldn’t know who they were. regardless, from time to time, you look back and think, “i was so gay and i didn’t realize. all those times I convinced myself that we were cuddling in the same bed because we were cold, I just wanted to be close to her. and when a boy would be mean to her and I would get defensive, it wasn’t because I thought she needed protection, I was just trying to impress her. i told her she was pretty after someone told her she wasn’t, but I said it because that’s what I felt, not because I wanted to make her feel better. but then we grew apart, and while I don't know who or where she is now, I'll always remember all those things we did and who we were together.”

why does taylor constantly write about kissing girls? since pretty much the start of her career, she’s been singing about kissing girls, and proposing to them etc. why?

what the heck is HYGTG about? because as far as i can tell, it’s taylor bragging about how good she is at getting girls.

and speaking of bragging, why does taylor specifically say, “what’s it like to brag about getting bitches and models”? the wording (and any fan who denies that taylor is particular about that doesn’t pay attention) implies she is getting bitches and/or models, but doesn’t know what it’s like to brag about that because she's not “the man”

why is it that you guys constantly say that folklore is, well, folklore, but it suddenly isn’t when it fits your narrative? that’s like saying cheese is only butter when you put it on pasta (sorry i'm hungry)

has taylor ever said she’s straight? because as far as I know, she never has. and how many times has she actually confirmed that she is currently dating a guy? not an ex, but a current boyfriend by name

why does she look perfectly content holding hands with her female friends in public, but she looks miserable when she’s with joe?

i understand that she’s allowed to be touchy with her female friends, but you can’t deny that some of her big sur pics with karlie were couple poses... and then there’s the time she sat on karlie’s lap... or the vogue photoshoot...

why would she write a song like IKP and then shove calvin in everyone’s faces to the point that the birthday post she made for karlie in 2015 had non-kaylors riled up too? (the one where karlie was literally in the background and we mostly saw calvin) and then those three months with tom where she flew him around the world super publicly?

do you guys really believe that 1989 isn’t about a relationship?

what is this love about? is that really not a love song?

why’d she move to nyc? and then include a line like “and you can want who you want, boys and boys and girls and girls” in WTNY? if she was really straight, why would she include something like that in her song about new york?

why describe joe as a killer, ghost, and a jailer? and after doing all that with “he” as the pronoun of choice, why switch to you in the chorus, and say all these wonderful things?

joe isn’t younger than all her exes.... (hi harry!)

was 2016 really the worst time for her publicly? or was 2011-2013? i personally think that it’s still up for discussion.

why would she write about a long term relationship on reputation after being with joe for a couple months? or even less tbh?

and if scott swift told fans that the trial pushed back the release of rep by a few months, when was it supposed to come out? and going back to so it goes... if people are going to say that it was written just a couple months before rep was released, how could that be possible if it was originally supposed to released months earlier?

third floor on the west side... karlie’s master bedroom anybody?

did you guys picture a girl in the beginning of INTHAF and then switch to a boy? because it’s kind of the classic best friends to lovers theme, but the way she described it, i definitely imagined two girls, even before i thought taylor might have liked girls.

why does she keep writing songs about marriage, but then deny all the rumors that she’s engaged to joe, and say she isn’t ready for that in miss americana?

and because i want to end on a note of unity, can we all agree calvin was an asshole?

edit:

why the heck are there so many coincidences if they aren’t together? don’t you think taylor would have kept the interactions to an absolute minimum if they really were feuding?

why is it that on at least two occasions, taylor’s lyrics have echoed one of their instagram captions, almost word for word? on the way home anyone? motown beat?

and i can’t believe i didn’t put this in there before, but where was joe’s big reputation? i mean, before he starting stunt- i mean “dating” taylor, barely anyone had heard of him. you know who’s got a big reputation and has for almost as long as taylor? karlie sunshine kloss

what the heck does the line “you try on calling me baby like trying on clothes” mean for joe? because karlie definitely has to try on a whole bunch of clothes, being a model and all. plus, there’s that stereotype that girls change clothes a million times before leaving the house, and that we try on a billion things at stores and end up getting lipstick or whatever

and just to build off the last bullet point, in the line before, taylor sings “we met a few weeks ago”. however, according to your timeline, they met at the met, and then she flew around with tom like a week later. so when would he have called her baby? while they were supposedly best friends? just saying...

thank you to the lovely @shugbayr for pointing out that yes, taylor said during 1989 promo that 1989 wasn’t as boy-centric of an album because her life had been less boy-centric. why the love songs then? I have an idea that starts with a g and ends with an l

#excuse that one super long ramble about seven #poking holes in the straight narrative #kaylor #taylor swift

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a-southern-reader · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2. Bouncer Jaune AU

“Oh please tell me!”

“No.” Said Jaune smiling and shaking his head in the campus cafeteria.

“Pretty please, I’ll let you beat me in Smash Bros.” Ruby stated like it was the best deal in the world.

“Then it’s not a true victory. Why do you even want to know?

“Well when your friend tells you they got a job you typically tend to ask where at.”

Jaune stopped his bite for his peanut butter sandwich halfway. “Well I can’t tell you because it’s a secret.” He said with a smirk.

“A regular secret or top secret?”

“Top secret.” As he said it with a smile.

“Dang it!” Ruby pouted, until Jaune gave her half of his sandwich. Which was promptly devoured in less than five seconds. “Still though working late hours is going to tire you some. You need to get good sleep if you want to keep your grades.”

Jaune turned and looked at her. “Really? This coming from the girl who stays up all night playing video games when her roommate isn’t there.”

“Hey I skipped a grade and because of that I get extra time to relax to make up for all that stress from the extra work.”

After Ruby and Jaune finished their lunch they decided to use the extra time to walk around on the campus grounds. “Why are you taking a job anyway, it’s not like you need the money?” Ruby questioned with her arms folded behind her head.

“Well I got a bunch a free time after my classes. You spend yours running for the cross country team. While I’m just doing nothing after I finish studying. Plus Sun works there so I’ll have a friend to hang out with.”

“Ah ha!” She shouted and jumped to look at him. “So Sun works there.” She accused to him. Jaune looks at the girl proud with her detective skills.

“Yes Sun works there, you got me.” He said with smile on his face.

She looks down at her watch, “Okay I got to go, I have practice in about half an hour. Good luck tonight!” She yelled already running towards the track.

It’s 2:50 and Jaune is walking to “Huntresses.” He stops in-front of a store to check himself out in the reflection of the glass. He makes sure his hair looks nice and he tucks his small black shirt in his pants. He wants to look decent not only for his boss, but to also show he’s taking his job seriously when facing people inside. Jaune finishes looking at himself in the glass and walks into the club.

“Ayyyyyye Jaune is here! Let’s get ready to party!” Yelled Sun in his DJ booth blasting music and showing off his dance moves.

“Hey Sun, why don’t you go dance on stage instead of the girls?” Yatsu asked while standing by the bar.

“Because Goodwitch knows that I would drive all the girls out of business!” Sun exclaimed while laughing.

Yatsu laughed at his joke as well and turned to look at Jaune as he walked up. “Hey I’m Yatsu, you must be the new guy.” He extended his hand out to shake. When Jaune reaches out to shake it he doesn’t even see his hand anymore because it got shallowed by his. Yatsu looks at Jaune and smiles, “Did Shade tell you to wear a shirt that was small to show off some muscles?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m just trying to get as much advice as possible. You got any to give?” Jaune asked.

“Yeah, try not to get a boner. It’s extremely awkward when you ask someone to get out with that pointing at them.” Yatsu jokes and gives a light punch on his shoulder. “Just stay close to me and I’ll show what all you’re suppose to do.”

It’s 4:30 and guys start coming into the club. “Shade is the guy checking who gets in. Our job is to look around and stop a problem before it happens. Especially if a guy starts getting too handsy with one of the girls.” Yatsu explained to Jaune.

“Alright gentlemen it’s time for your hot stepmom dreams to finally come true. Let’s welcome Momma Manlte!” Sun said on his microphone over the whoops and cheers.

Jaune watched as the dancer walked out from behind the curtains. He started to believe maybe Yatsu’s advice wasn’t entirely a joke. She had a red top and bottom that really show off her mature body. Her boobs looked like they wanted to burst out of her top.

“She makes a killer casserole.” Jaune snaps out of it and looks and Yatsu. “I’m serious, she had some leftover casserole she made and gave it to me.” He explained.

Jaune tried to not get distracted by the show and just looked around watching out for trouble. The woman was fine, all the guys who were close to her were just slipping dollars inside of her tong. He looked at the bar, nobody causing any trouble over there.

“Jaune relax some it’s early. Nobody is going to cause a scene the second they get in here. Just walk around some and stretch your legs.”

He takes his advice and starts to wonder around, but is still keeping an eye on everyone. Every now and then he does look at the woman dancing on stage. Shes rolling her hips around, getting on her hands and knees so guys can look down her cleavage. Near the end she stands up and one of hers arms wraps around her chest. Her other one goes to the back of her bra and unclasps it. She grabs an end and slings it over her shoulder without exposing her chest, only teasing the men with the possibility of it. She walks away swaying her hips, but just before she disappears behind the curtains she stops and looks in Jaune’s direction. She flashes him and all the men groan wondering who got to be the lucky man who saw her rack when she walked away.

“She’s likes you that’s for sure.” Jaune turns around and sees it’s the bartender. “The names Neptune, and you are a lucky son of a bitch. Momma Mantle doesn’t just let anyone see her assets like that.”

“She doesn’t just do that for all the new guys?”

“If that was the case people would be applying for jobs twenty four seven!” He joked.

As time went by Jaune was more relaxed and was just leaning against the wall and doing a little search every now and then. He assumed maybe that casserole dancer told all the girls back stage that there was a new guy that she liked. Because every once in a while a girl would be dancing and send a wink in Jaune’s direction. One thing he likes about his job for sure is Sun’s creative introduction for all the girls.

“Hide your wallet and heart because this girl will steal them both. Here comes Princess Bandit!” As a tomboyish girl with a tattoo walks out with a “I can kick your ass attitude.”

“She maybe small, but remember dynamite comes in small packages. Plus her hair reminds us of that sweet Neapolitan ice cream. Let’s give it up for Chocolate Strawberry!” That girl was short, but her bust and bottom did more than accommodate for that.

Before Jaune knew it the last dancer was coming up. “Alright everyone it’s getting close to closing time, but one girl came in last minute to provide our final show. You all know her, you all love her. It’s the Ice Queen!”

Jaune looked at the stage as she came out. The name Ice Queen really nailed her appearance. Her white hair was a obvious reason why it was picked, but it only scratched the surface of it. Her outfit didn’t match the color of her hair, instead it was a light blue. Her skin was pale, but not in that sickly way. It was like pure snow in winter and her outfit’s color really contrasted with it making it stand out with her pale skin. She walked with an air of elegance around her that made you pay attention. They way she danced on stage and swinging around the pole was like a ballerina. Heck that’s what Jaune felt like he was watching. Not watching a sexy girl exposing herself to get some money, but a beautiful ballerina putting on a show that memorizes the audience.

“Hey man you there?” Yatsu asked Jaune while nudging him. “We got to make sure that everyone leaves man. Don’t worry the girls will still be here when you come back.”

He didn’t want to leave, he continued to watch Ice Queen as she returned to back stage. He would throw some money out if it meant he could still watch her dance.

Once the club closed Sun and Jaune got out and started walking back to campus. “So what you think man? Easy job, rocking music, and you get to watch all those women dancing for free!”

“Yeah it sure was something, so a couple of them go to our university right?”

“Well yeah, a couple of those girls are around our age so it would make sense. But don’t think I didn’t notice it man.” Sun smirking at him as he said it.

“Notice what?”

“Dude! That Mantle Lady, she full on flashed you man. Do you realize how much money people throw at her to get a glimpse of them, and on your first day she just lets you see them!”

“Maybe if you show her your dance moves she’ll show you her goodies.” Jaune said laughing with Sun.

That’s the second part! I kept on walking up during the night until I said screw it and just started to write something. It started small until it just snowballed into this.

For those who may not know “Princess Bandit” is Vernal. Because Vernal deserves more love dang it!

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #6

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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Moonstone’s Charity

“The moon is beautiful, huh!”

By the time that we exited the Shiseido Parlor, it was already completely dark outside. The moon loomed a faint blue, as if overlooking the night view of Ginza. Putting his coat back on, Richard silently averted his eyes when I looked back at him with an “isn’t it”. At any rate, I had gotten wholly used to eating out with this guy on Saturdays after work. It was worth making him puddings as payback, I thought.

“Speaking of which, the stone you sold to today’s customers was a ‘stone of the moon’, wasn’t it?”

“Please call it ‘moonstone’. There are other rock specimens that are referred to as ‘stones of the moon’. Confusing the meaning of the words is deplorable.”

“Is that so?! Aight, I’ll take it to heart.”

Today’s customers were the parents of a naïve young lady, and the goods they bought were a moonstone jewelry set for her. It seemed that the young lady, who still had childish facial traits, was going to get married, so her parents ordered a necklace from Etranger for her to take along when the time came. Bearing a rainbow light over a milky blue color, the cabochon-cut moonstone was combined with white diamonds for the necklace and bracelet. It overflowed with a soulful beauty, almost as if it had borrowed the glow of an aurora from a Scandinavian sky.

Apparently, the moonstone, which was also one of the June birthstones, had been familiarized as a power stone since the distant past, and was renowned especially as a stone that celebrated the well-being and fortune of women. Having the commemorative jewelry delivered to her as a surprise, the young lady had cried until her eyes were bright red, but she recovered by way of a sweet royal milk tea, expressing gratitude to her parents with a sniffling nose. I believed that there were several forms of joy depending on each person, and what I had witnessed today was unmistakably one of them.

Even as we headed to the parking lot where Richard’s jaguar was, the moon followed us from the gaps between the buildings. As I walked while looking up and repeating, “It’s really pretty, so pretty”, Richard seemed exasperated.

“‘The moon is beautiful’, huh. Are college students not familiar with anecdotes of their own country’s literary figures nowadays?”

“Don’t they read that stuff? I’m in the faculty of economics, so there’s lots of people with names written in horizontal characters on our textbooks. Like Marx Weber or Mankiw.”

“What about Futabatei Shimei or Natsume Souseki?”

“I’ll ask you back: have you read them?”

“Yes.”

Uwah. As I cried out, the gorgeous jeweler sighed. “Honestly, today’s youths,” he said.

I ended up laughing at him without thinking.

“What is it?”

“You say ‘youths’ but you’re pretty young yourself.”

“I merely disagree with the worldwide trend of thinking that classical literature is an enjoyment for old age. The world, matured by the various interpretations of our ancestors, is deep and wide-ranging, as well as something that envelopes our hearts, just like stones.”

“Feels like the part where stones come up is ‘just as expected of Richard-san’.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“I am complimenting you. I have the feeling that I get smarter when we talk.”

“For you to be the kind who is satisfied with just ‘having a feeling’, my existence must be a harmful one.”

“I shall take this to heart... Aah, by the way, in sociology or some other class, I heard that the phrase ‘had a feeling’ has increased too much in pop music. Why is that? I guess it’s because, when they assert, ‘I can be strong!’ instead of, ‘I have the feeling I can be strong, I find myself inwardly wanting to retort with a, ‘Nope, nope, it’s not like that’ and the mood cools off.”

“Unfortunately, I have not studied the trends of modern Japan’s younglings. But if we are to speak of such things, even the power invoked by stones is a matter of ‘having a feeling’.”

“Is it okay for a jeweler to be saying that?”

“We are already out of business hours. Besides, this is not a negative subject in particular.”

Having arrived at the parking lot, Richard glanced at me and folded his arms lightly. He was a beautiful man from the top of his head to the tips of his toenails, like a doll made of moonlight. I was used to looking at his figure, but beautiful things will be beautiful. I could look at him without ever getting tired and it would put me in a good mood, just like the moon.

“W-What? What’s up?”

“I mean that people can become strong just from ‘having a feeling’. The power of belief is namely the force of human beings who seek hope even in a small gleam. Is that not a wonderful thing? On nights like these, when we ‘have the feeling’ that we are being protected by the light of the moon, people are sure to be in some sort of calm mood.” Saying this, as if to copy me or something, Richard looked up at the night sky above the buildings of Ginza and murmured, “The moon is truly beautiful.” He then smoothly got on the jaguar’s driver seat. I followed him on the passenger seat.

Still, this car’s seat base did an exquisite inclination no matter how many times I sat on it. It felt like a chair sticking to your body.

“Well, are you okay with dropping off at Takadanobaba?”

“Thank you. By the way, should I reply with the ‘I could die now’ already?”

Richard’s face at that moment was a spectacle. His mouth and beautiful eyebrows distorted as if to say, “Haah?”. His eyes stared dangerously at me.

“I mean, isn’t that the context? Futabate Shimei and Natsume Souseki, right?”

“I love you”.

Apparently, the literary masters of the Meiji Era had racked their brains about to how to translate a sentence that didn’t originally exist in the Japanese language. This would be a standard drinking party talk. Well, I didn’t know if there was a standard for all kinds of drinking parties, but just recently, during a drinking party we held with a group of men from the Department of Letter’s Faculty of Japanese Literature, we got fired-up over that topic. “Girls like this kind of talk, so you guys from the Faculty of Economics should also keep it in mind every once in a while,” they told us. Futabate Shimei used “I could die now” as a code for “I am yours” and Natsume Souseki used the anecdote “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it” as what was claimed to be a good anecdote for “I love you”. We were thankful for the trivia. That being said, none of the members who attended the drinking party had girlfriends, so I had thought there would be no opportunity to use this trivia, but to my surprise...

Richard, who had been stiff for a moment, exhaled with a loud “haaah” and turned the engine key. The body of the iron machine shuddered.

“That was terrifying.”

“So even you got freaked out! I can say some Japanese-like things too.”

“I will proceed to kick you if you say the same thing again. Be quiet for the time being.” Richard pulled the car out of the parking lot from backward, and as he stepped onto the accelerator and we got out into the street, the car trundled on with us in silence for a while. After we had passed four or five buildings, the beautiful jeweler opened his mouth again, “These words are not meant to be spoken lightly. A sentence taken out of context is like a lonely stone removed from a bracelet. In what kind of situation did people say, ‘The moon is beautiful’ or under what circumstances did they think, ‘I could die now’? What matters is the process until things arrived to that point, and not scraps of words. In the past, during the times when the people of this country were not as filled with imported mentalities as they are now, they probably understood this very well.”

“Hey, why’d you think of reading Natsume Souseki?”

Richard didn’t respond. I’d known for a while now that there were lots of things this guy didn’t want to answer, but his silence at the question was unexpected. Was something up?

Something related to moments when he might feel like saying things such as “the moon is beautiful” or “I could die now”.

It was clearly not a topic that I should pry too much about. Pretending to have found something interesting out the window, I put on a smile with no particular connotation. Leaning my body against the window, I looked up at the sky. “Ah, I can still see the moon.”

“You do not say. Is it beautiful?”

“Yup, but you’re more beautiful.”

Richard’s hand instantaneously glided in a swift motion. He pressed the car stereo switch. What played at an explosively loud volume wasn’t the Finnish rock that I had listened to before. It was a sutra in an ethnic-sounding female voice. That was all I could say. What was this? As I asked in a loud voice what language that song was in, he said it was Bengali. Was it an Indian song then? I couldn’t talk to him unless I shouted in one breath.

“HEY! IF I PISSED YOU OFF, SERIOUSLY, I’M SORRY!”

Richard’s mouth moved in the form of an “I cannot hear you”. It seemed he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. But he didn’t look angry. The corners of his lips were smiling just slightly. Like he wanted to say that this was so stupid it made him laugh. He appeared a lot more relaxed than when listing up the names of those literary figures, so I became kinda happy.

When I got out of the car, the southern country atmosphere was gone at once. At the roundabout in Takadanobaba, Richard took off with the jaguar as soon as he said goodbye. As the same old habit, for whatever reason, I ended up watching him off until I couldn’t see him anymore.

As I looked up the blue moon was floating in the black sky, unchanged. This was also a matter of “having a feeling”, but this emotion I was feeling today at this moment was a definite form of happiness too.

Honestly, the moon was beautiful tonight.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

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joontier · 4 years

Text

mile high memoirs | oneshot

synopsis: you and the two other rappers of the global sensation BTS make a collaboration of sorts

pairings: namgi (namjoon and yoongi) x reader

rating: R (18+)

genre: fluff, humor, smut | au: idol! au; established relationship! au

warnings: pwp basically hnngnhng; and yes sex on a private jet bc why tf not ; cunnilingus, oral sex (m and f receiving), cum swallowing, dom! Yoongi undertones, threesome, double penetration, anal sex, multiple orgasms; i have nothing else to say at this point except im dragging yall with me to thirst hours

word count: 5.9k

g/n: NAMGI NATION RISE!!!!!! anywho, this is a lovely gift for @mintseesaw for being an awesomesauce person in general and yes, we’re thirsting for the same men bUT SHE WONT SHARE HNGNNNG SO I’VE WRITTEN THIS INSTEAD (in the hopes that this might satiate my obviously unquenchable thirst for the hyung line!?/1!?!?) ALSO THIS IS HEAVILY UNEDITED KJFSKDJFSDJF please let me know what you think! x

between the lenses navi. | navi. | m.list

“_________! Please look this way!”

“How do you feel about New Day becoming the number one streamed song in more than forty countries after being released just last week?”

“Is it true that you’re in a relationship with BTS’ Suga? Or RM? Or are the three of you engaged in a polyamorous relationship?”

The last one catches you off guard and you look away from the cameras to hide the amusement on your face. The last thing you need is people speculating about your personal life once they see your reaction to their questions, so you continue on your way to immigration, face down and expressionless.

If you were being completely honest, there was always a crowd that came with you when you had schedules overseas, fans and paparazzi huddled together as they took pictures of you. But today was different, especially considering the fact that you were also at Gimpo, and not Incheon.

With Gimpo, a significantly less busier airport than Incheon, you had only anticipated a smaller crowd but you seemed to have forgotten that you were scheduled to fly with two of the rappers of BTS to Amsterdam today to film the music video for your collaboration, “New Day”.

Upon your arrival, a throng of security guards placed themselves as barricades to bar the large group of people from crowding the hallways. Your team successfully weaves your way through the massive crowd and arrives safely by the immigration.

You soon see your boyfriend lounging by the private boarding area, and Yoongi immediately stands to greet you. You place a quick peck on his lips when you meet. Namjoon stands to greet you as well and you turn to the younger man to give him a huge hug. “It’s been a while since I saw you Joonie!” The tall rapper gets shy at your nickname, dimples peeking as he looks down.

“It must have been wild out there,” Yoongi says, giving you a once over as he checks if you got hurt or injured on the way to the boarding area. You coo at your boyfriend, face crumpling at his concern even after years of being in a relationship. Nuzzling your head onto the crook of his neck, you inhale the wonderful scent of the perfume you’d gave him when you came back from your US tour.

“Yeah it was! Honestly whenever I leave Korea, the amount of people who’d send me off isn’t even half of the crowd out there – and that’s already in Incheon! Not Gimpo! I always seem to forget that you guys are worldwide superstars!” Yoongi just laughs at your observation, shaking his head at you as he offers his iced Americano.

Unbeknownst to those outside your private lives, you had initially met Yoongi pre-debut. You used to attend the same school back in Daegu and fun fact: you were the same ex-girlfriend he’d composed a letter for during high school and sent the same to a radio station to have it aired.

You had both met at a tender age, and admittedly, there were a few petty reasons for your break-up, but one of them was because you both wanted to pursue a career in music, and with the kpop industry not exactly big on the idols dating, you had decided to remain friends, for the time being.

It was Yoongi who contacted you first when you debuted in late 2012, and as you caught on with your lives, sharing similar stories during your trainee days, he’d also asked you to anticipate their debut in a few months’ time as well.

True to his word, their group debuted the following year in June, and you had sent congratulatory flowers to BigHit, praising them for their powerful stages and a very promising career. You and Yoongi had kept in touch ever since. Nothing wrong about rekindling an old flame, right?

Funny enough, dating under the radar seemed to have fallen naturally for the two of you as you both prefer staying indoors and improvising dates rather than having to go out and risk getting caught by the media. Besides, it would have been easier just in case things got a little bit heated. Which happened most of the time. In your defense though, being able to meet at least once a week was already a blessing – so occurrences like that were bound to happen…

One day while you were trying to work out this melody for a song you composed, Yoongi sat next to you and pulled you on his lap as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Why don’t I help you with that love?” He lets you rest your back on his chest as his fingers fluidly move against the piano keys. Genuinely satisfied with what he played for you, you placed a kiss on his cheek as a token of your gratitude. “Thanks, Suga PDnim.”

“Speaking of that… do you want to have a collab – you and me?” You look at him, expectantly, mouth slightly open at surprise of his proposal. Truthfully, you had thought about that even before you actually got back in to a relationship, but you could never really bring the subject up because he always seemed so busy and you didn’t want to burden him any further by asking for extra work.

And that’s what you told him, but your boyfriend only laughed at you, intertwining his hands with yours on the piano. “Baby, I would’ve dropped all the other collaborations if you had just said the word.”

You were beyond elated, and honored, and when Namjoon came in to check on Yoongi, the latter asked if he had any opinion on a collaboration between Yoongi and you. Your boyfriend even convinced the younger rapper to get involved in the track. With the blessing of Bang PDnim, you’re finally here, scheduled to travel overseas to film the music video for the track the three of you had worked on which went global in mere hours, thanks to the very talented men you got the chance to work with.

You take out your camera from your bag to film a little, just in case you’ll get to release a ‘behind-the-scenes’ vlog for your collaboration. You make an attempt to film Yoongi who’s half-awake but all to no avail. Namjoon gladly offers some screen time for your video. The younger rapper laughs shyly when you squeal in excitement asking him for a few words about your collaboration. Namjoon does so like a professional: telling the camera where you’re headed off to today, thanking the fans for their never-ending support, and wishing them to anticipate the upcoming music video.

It doesn’t take long before someone tells the lot that your plane is ready to board, so you wake a dazed Yoongi and bid goodbye to the rest of the staff who were taking a separate flight to your destination.

Ever the hardworking idol, Yoongi decides to make some revisions on a song he’s working on while you take this time to finally finish a book Namjoon himself recommended a while back. You don’t notice the hours that have passed by when you check the window, and it’s already pitch-black outside, save the occasional gray because of the clouds.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you head over to the lavatory to relieve your bladder. On your way back to your seat, you glance Namjoon’s way and see the flesh-colored screen your eyes getting glued to the screen watching two men pound a girl into the mattress. You get drawn back to reality because of some minor turbulence and you quickly avert your eyes from the screen.

“Babe, Joonie’s watching porn,” you whisper as you get to your seat, snuggling into your warm blanket. “And who told my girlfriend it was right to snoop into other people’s preferential pastimes?”

You roll your eyes at him, “It’s not like I purposely watched what was on his screen! Just in case you needed the facts, he was seated with his back facing me, so it’s just natural that I’d get a glimpse of whatever ‘preferential pastime’ it is that you he was doing on his phone! It’s not my fault he didn’t dim the brightness if he truly wanted to watch it privately- “

“You didn’t need to go off, babe,” Yoongi laughs, placing a kiss on your head. “Should we head to bed now? I wanna sleep…and cuddle. Sleep, really, but since you’re here, I guess we could cuddle.”

“You make it sound like it’s a chore!”

Yoongi gives your indignance no attention, just tugging you up from your seat towards the bedroom. “Joon, we’re going to go to sleep now. You should go do the same soon.”

Namjoon’s lips part to reply, but Yoongi beats him to it. “And don’t even think about attempting to sleep in that seat. There are two beds back there for a reason. _______ and I will just share one. Feel free to take the other.” A small smile graces the younger man’s face in gratitude, nodding his head as he wishes you both a good night’s sleep.

Of course, life is bittersweet – so even with an insanely comfy bed and your boyfriend beside you to snuggle freely – a good night’s sleep is the last thing you get. Restlessly turning to lie on your back for what seems to be the hundredth time tonight, you heave a sigh as you stare at the jet’s ceiling. Must’ve been the iced Americano you shared with Yoongi before you boarded. Damn him and his triple-shot Americano.

Namjoon enters the room and notices your state of restlessness. “Can’t sleep?”

“Sort of.”

“There’s warm milk by the galley if you want some.”

“I’m too lazy to get up…”

Namjoon chortles, finding it’s moments like these that remind him of your likeness to Yoongi. “I can get you some if you want?” Namjoon offers, already turning to leave the room but you grab his arm, stopping him from doing so.

“No, please! You really don’t need to. I know I’ll be able to sleep in a few more minutes….”

“The average person falls asleep in twenty, and you and Yoongi hyung came here about an hour ago,” Namjoon points out. Giving him a blank stare, you reply, “Why don’t you head to bed and rest? We’ve still got a long day tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night, noona.”

“Night Joonie.”

You have proven all of Google’s methods of falling asleep faster to be false. Warm milk, the 4-7-8 breathing method, relaxing music, even counting sheep in vain. You’d even tried working on your vlog to Amsterdam (that you probably aren’t even going to release), giving up when you couldn’t make out Yoongi’s slurred speech when you tried to interview him while he was napping (you don’t know why you even bothered at this point, but you probably thought it was funny earlier this afternoon).

Nada. Nothing was working, not when you’ve still got three shots of espresso coursing through your veins.

There was only one way left and you had a feeling that this was going to definitely knock you out. You need to get exhausted, and the only idea left is sitting cross-legged at the back of your head, blowing a huge bubble with her gum as she files her nails. She looks at you with taunting eyes. You glance over to Namjoon’s bed, analyzing his features to see if he had gone to sleep already or not. A light snore that escapes his lips assures you so.

Letting out another exhale, you turn to face Yoongi on your left, studying his features. Your boyfriend wakes when your lips graze his cheek as you place a light kiss on his milky skin. One eye pries open to peer at you. “Babe, what are you doing?” His groggy voice shouldn’t have appealed to you as strongly as it did now, but your desperation to get some sleep had seemed to travel south.

“Just kissing my beautiful boyfriend,” you shrug innocently, fighting the teasing lilt in your voice when you see the corner of his lips rise at your sudden compliment. “You don’t fool me, Miss _____, Billboard’s Top Female Solo Artist of the Year, MAMA’s Best Rap Performance, Golden Disc Awards’ Best…”

“Okay, okay, you got me.” You giggle as Yoongi pulls you closer to meet your lips in a chaste kiss. “What’s wrong princess?” You state the obvious, pointing to your eyes which now probably had bags under them. “Can’t sleep,” you pout, slipping your hand underneath his shirt to give him a back rub as you snuggle to his chest.

“And what do you suppose we are to do about it?” Yoongi asks, chest rumbling as he speaks. You take your bottom lip between your teeth as you look up at him expectantly, giving him a knowing look.

Yoongi looks at you incredulously, the lack of rest still visible in his features. You instantly look away, guilt spreading across your chest. You internally scold yourself as you had to wake up your boyfriend for selfish reasons. Your boyfriend senses your sudden hesitance and places a finger under your chin, ordering you to look at him. “Hey, hey, look at me darling. Right here, right now? I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the energy to-“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll do all the work.”

“And Namjoon, who’s just a mere meter away?” His pitch lowers, voice now barely above a whisper. You nod shyly and Yoongi’s eyes darken at your unspoken offer.

“You’re a naughty little slut, aren’t you?” Yoongi hisses, placing his hands on your waist and lifting you easily to have your sit on his thighs, just below his crotch. “Wanting to fuck on a plane, while another member is sleeping right beside us?”

Placing your hands on Yoongi’s chest for support, you move your hips forward, grinding your crotch against your boyfriend’s. Yoongi pulls you forward by your arms, just enough that your face is merely centimeters away from him. Wasting no time, he presses his lips against yours, darting his tongue out to deepen the kiss. He expresses his desire to help you with your dilemma by thrusting upwards gently to join your gyrating hips.

You peek sideways to check on Namjoon and breathe a sigh of relief when he finally turns to the other side, back facing the both of you.

You hastily discard your top and your bra in desperation, hands roaming all over your torso and eventually letting them end at your chest, fondling with your breasts and tweaking your nipples between your fingers. Not satisfied with your own ministrations, you guide Yoongi’s hands to your breasts, letting him squeeze them as he pleases beneath his open palms.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Yoongi murmurs, bending his knees to push himself upwards to make himself more comfortable. Yoongi quickly attaches his moist lips to one of your breasts, sucking at the supple flesh. You grind heavier against him in response and Yoongi takes this as an opportunity to fist a handful of your hair and tug sharply, baring your neck to him.

You barely manage to hold in your whimpers when he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, definitely leaving a purplish mark there that you’ll eventually have to cover up with foundation. Nothing you’ve never done before. “Remember that short dress you wore on stage last week with that dangerous cleavage?” You nod shakily, remembering the way Yoongi tried hard to not stare at you too long as one of his fansites might catch onto something.

“Guess what baby? It’s payback time.”

“For what?” You flutter your eyes innocently at him and you suddenly feel the temperature rise a few degrees with Yoongi’s intense stare.

“You knew exactly what you were doing that night, naughty little tease.” Okay, maybe you did, and maybe you bit your lip in front of the camera at the exact moment you knew he was looking. Needless to say, he avoided your eyes for the rest of the evening during that particular awards show.

He thrusts up harshly, his clothed hard-on grinding deliciously against your likewise covered cunt. “Mhmm, Yoongs… I- I wanna…” You don’t find the need to say anything else, just one look at the bulge inside his sweatpants was enough for him to understand.

“Yes please.” Yoongi sighs in contentment, raising his hips to help you remove his clothes. You include his boxers as you take his sweatpants off, cock slapping against his stomach as it springs free from the confines of his underwear.

Giggling excitedly, you hide beneath the covers, fitting yourself snugly between Yoongi’s legs. You take your time as you stare at his dick, long and girthy and curved just the right amount – always a tight fit inside your walls. You couldn’t wait for later when he’ll let you impale yourself on his cock as you ride him – the vivid picture makes you even wetter.

Building up his anticipation, you start placing kisses from his happy trail down to his groin, kneading his balls gently while you’re at it. Finding it difficult to communicate his feelings is one trait of Yoongi that definitely has its pros and cons. For one, people actually think Yoongi doesn’t care for others but it’s actually the complete opposite, but along with this, he gives the most genuine reactions, one which you are thankful for, especially during times like these.

Yoongi’s pretty responsive, and vocal at times when he’s really in the mood, and when you tentatively flick your tongue against his frenulum, the instantaneous quiver of Yoongi’s body has you reveling, giving yourself an imaginary pat on the back.

Momentarily leaving his red, angry shaft, you gently take his balls in your mouth, sucking on it, and gently massaging it with your tongue. “Quit the teasing, _______.” Being the good, obedient girl that you are, you comply immediately, paying attention to his dick this time.

You see his abdominals contract when you finally take him in your mouth, veiny hands grabbing at your temple to fist a handful of your hair. Inch by inch, you let his cock sink into your mouth, swallowing when he reaches the back of your throat. Yoongi hisses at the sensation, cursing to a throw pillow he’d taken from the seats.

Not wanting to agonize him any longer, you get to a pleasurable pace, bobbing your head up and down his length. Yoongi’s chest starts heaving and his grip on your hair tightens – the tell-tale signs of his impending orgasm. “Shit, baby…” Your boyfriend warns you that he’s about to cum, and you pull back a little, just to feel him release ropes of his cum inside your mouth.

Yoongi beckons you closer, weakly pulling at your arms to have you lie on his chest. He’s still panting when you get closer, “You, darling, are perfection personified.”

Slapping his chest lightly in jest, you reply, “You’re only saying that because I just gave you the best blowjob of your life.” Yoongi pulls his head back, facial features exaggeratedly contorted to fake being offended. “Okay first of all, you always do. And second, do you want me to get sappy and make a list what makes you the perfect woman ever?” He asks, letting two of his fingers dance on the bare skin of your belly, eventually leading southwards, “Or…I could just show you how much you mean to me by doing something else? Something you and I will both enjoy, hmm?”

Expressing your approval with a hum, Yoongi wastes no time, meeting your lips in a feverish kiss. Gasping at the sensation of his wet lips trailing all the way from your cheek, down to your jaw then your collarbones and onto the valley of your breasts, you squirm impatiently underneath your boyfriend.

“Patience, darling,” Yoongi chuckles, sending you a flirty wink as he gets down on you, teasingly pulling at the waistband of your shorts before removing them. His gaze darkens when he notices your underwear choice – a lacy red thong just for him. You’ve meant to have him remove it from you once you reach the hotel in Amsterdam, but doing it in a jet seems just as hot.

When he gets the thong off of you, he quickly pockets it inside his discarded sweatpants by the end of the bed. Getting back to his task at hand, you’re unable to control the gasp that escapes your lips when Yoongi brazenly flattens his tongue on your bare core.

Keeping your folds open with two fingers, he curls his tongue around your clit, thighs subconsciously squeezing his head in between because of the stimulation. With one hand, he keeps your legs spread open for him. Alternating between your clit and your entrance, Yoongi makes sure not a single region of your core is left out.

Wanting to put your limits to the test, your boyfriend tentatively slides a finger against your folds, the coldness of your couple ring on his digit making you quiver to the bone. He slowly slides a finger in, prepping your hole for what’s to come. You plead for one more, fully aware that your greedy little pussy isn’t contented with one. Yoongi complies with your request at once, pumping his digits inside of you and occasionally curling them inside. That familiar coil inside you tightens with every second, and with one particular curl of his digit and his mouth on your clit, you reach your high.

Your body trembles with the intensity of your orgasm, and Yoongi won’t stop just yet, still licking long stripes on your cunt. Your boyfriend stops abruptly and rises, resting all his weight on his arms as he crawls forward and lowers himself to whisper something in your ear. “He’s awake. You want me to do something about it?”

Legs closing subconsciously while in thought, Yoongi gives you a few choices to ponder on. “We could pretend he’s not awake and get done with this, or…” Yoongi looks at you, carefully studying your facial reaction, “we could have another collaboration of some sort…”

“It’s really up to you baby, I’m honestly okay with both.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, never really taking Yoongi as the type to explore your deepest sexual fantasies. But then again, Yoongi has always been one to support you in everything, even with your kinks. Maybe the idea didn't surprise you as much as it should have considering the level of trust that came with living with someone for almost ten years already.

Yoongi gently falls to your side for a moment as he lets you decide. “You know, Namjoon used to have a crush on you,” your boyfriend informs, twirling a loose strand of your hair around his finger. Now that was a surprise. “He did?”

“Mhmm. At one point, he even had you as his phone wallpaper when you released your second single.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, I really don’t mind if you wanted to indulge him, you know, as an early birthday present? We actually had this kind of conversation a few years back and honestly, we’re both willing to try a threesome… what better way to do it with a person you trust right?”

The bluntness of his words catches you off guard - several trains of thoughts scattered throughout your brain. Namjoon had a crush on you? Birthday present? Threesome? How did you even get in this situation in the first place? Yoongi shifts a little as you continue contemplating, then you take notice of Yoongi’s bare lower half, cock still stiff and upright. Shit!

“You’re still hard,” you comment lamely, staring at his dick. “I know, and I’d greatly appreciate it if you tell me your decision quickly…”

You look at him again, checking if there is the slightest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. When you see none, you ask him again, “You’re really sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of course, as long as you’re comfortable with the idea. Honestly, I’m willing to have it any way because we still have a very pressing problem,” Yoongi points to his crotch, “and honestly, I think Namjoon is too. There’s nothing more that can turn a man on other than a woman’s moans,” he shrugs.

You want to laugh at Yoongi being totally nonchalant about this whole situation, but if you’d listen to your gut feeling, you’re sensing it’s Yoongi’s outstanding self-control that has him so calm and collected about this proposal.

Once you tell your boyfriend of your approval, he calls Namjoon at once. When the younger man won’t budge, you look at Yoongi who just shakes his head at you with a playful smirk on his face. He points at you then back to Namjoon, gesturing you to do the talking.

You gulp before saying a short plea to the heavens above. Surely, they’re bound to hear you better since you’re already in the sky right? “Joonie, darling, it’s okay to look. We don’t mind.” You cringe at the tone of your voice, surprised at how convincing you sounded while you were having an inner turmoil.

When you see Namjoon’s head raise a little, you subconsciously bite your lip in anticipation. Wanting nothing more than to see what he has to say about this. Yoongi probably senses his hesitation so he starts to speak, “It’s okay, she’s covered with a blanket.”

“But you’re not!” Yoongi juts his head forward, a grim look on his face. “As if you haven’t seen me naked before!”

“That’s different! T-This is a completely different situation.”

“Listen to me you kinky ass motherfucker, I just know you’re hard. I am too, and you know damn well it’s painful and uncomfortable. So, unless you want me to fuck her while you’re watching or pretending to be asleep, I suggest you take your clothes off and come here.”

“Are you both sure you’re okay with this?”

“Didn’t you just hear our conversation a while ago? I mean your bed is just a meter away.”

“I know, I heard,” Namjoon says, hands already at the hem of his hoodie, then instantaneously looks at the older one dead in the eye, “But, hyung, did you really have to call me out like that?! The whole crush thing and the wallpaper - jeez!”

Namjoon takes his phone out of his hoodie first, placing it by the window, then removing the rest of the clothes he has on quickly under your heated gaze.

“Try having a conversation while you’re hard,” Yoongi mutters, rolling his eyes. Yoongi scoots closer to you when Namjoon moves forward, standing with only his boxers left on. Your mouth waters at the outline of his straining bulge while Yoongi clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Why don't you show your Joonie what that mouth can do?”

The tall man makes a sound between a cough and a groan, and you lie on your stomach, crawling a little bit closer to come face to face with Namjoon’s crotch. You just know he’s longer than Yoongi judging from what you’re seeing, but Yoongi’s definitely girthier and fuck - the thought alone is enough for you to come undone, completely untouched.

Namjoon shivers lightly when you trace a finger along the length of his boner, placing a light kiss atop his cloth boxers. Impatiently, you hook a finger on the waistband of his Versace boxers. Holy fuck - you send another prayer to their hard stans, wishing them an equally intense life inside the bedroom.

His cock springs free, and you scoot closer, wanting to have a better look at his pretty dick. You get into action quickly, hand wrapping around the base of his cock. You place a kiss on the leaking head, before licking a wet stripe along the length of his shaft.

You get more confident when Namjoon inhales sharply at the simple action. A few more licks and you decide to finally take him in his mouth, gradually moving lower until you have at least a third of him in your mouth. Namjoon sighs, fingers carding through your hair as you pull your mouth off him with a pop. Once more, you sink down, shallow and easy as you tease the younger man.

The grip on your hair eventually tightens, goading you on and encouraging you to go deeper. Namjoon becomes more vocal when you pick up the pace, and when you go down all the way to the hilt, you pause for a moment, then swallow. “Holy fuck!” Namjoon cries out, head lolling backwards in pleasure. “God, I wish I had a girlfriend too.” Yoongi chuckles from behind you and you almost forgot he was there too with Namjoon’s pretty length keeping you preoccupied.

Yoongi praises you and calls you a good girl. Beaming at your boyfriend, he tells you to continue giving Namjoon the blow of his life. Under Yoongi’s compliments, you work harder, ignoring the slight burn in your jaw. Namjoon starts bucking his hips, desperately chasing his high in your mouth. As you feel that coil slowly forming in the pit of your stomach, you gather some of the blankets between your thighs, bunching them up against your cunt so you have something to shamelessly grind your folds with.

Namjoon’s breathing gets strained, and you feel a tap on your leg, causing you to momentarily stop with Namjoon. Yoongi says nothing as he tells you to flip over. Settling your weight on your elbows, you watch Yoongi hand Namjoon a silver packet. “You really think you won’t get caught wetting the sheets babe? You’re not the only who gets to have fun here.”

He peppers a few kisses on your things before placing a hand between, spreading your legs open. “What are you waiting for, princess? Wanna leave Namjoon hanging just like that?” Unsure of what he has in mind, Namjoon helps you guide his shaft back to your mouth. As Namjoon returns to a rhythmic pace inside your mouth, you feel Yoongi settling himself between your legs. Good lord, was this really about to happen?

Your back arches when Yoongi starts with light vertical licks from the bottom to top. You feel his hand trail upwards, gently caressing your breasts. You’re mewling by the time Namjoon increases his pace, and Yoongi starts and toying with your clit mercilessly.

The feeling gets too much when Yoongi sucks on your nether bud, then proceeds to tease your rim a little, using your essence to slowly ease a ringed finger inside your hole. Namjoon hisses with your every moan, the vibrations coming from your throat an added blessing to having fucked your mouth.

From your view, you see Namjoon’s balls tighten and seconds later thick ropes of cum slide down your throat and you swallow before pulling back and licking your lips. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, Yoongi, once more, asserts his dominance, ordering you to get on your knees.

You feel your heart hammering against your ribcage in exhilaration, secretly hoping that this will finally be the day your deepest fantasies will come to life. Yoongi scoots over a little to lie horizontally on the bed. He calls you over, index finger curved like a hook to beckon you to ride him.

You move over to him in shaky legs, hooking a leg over his body to straddle his hips. “No, no, not facing me…” Yoongi waves his hand as he helps you up. “Facing him,” your boyfriend points to Namjoon whose mouth falls open in shock. Yoongi rips a packet open and rolls a condom onto his shaft.

“Hyung…” This was plain torture.

“I thought this was supposed to be an early birthday present for me?” Namjoon mumbles, scratching his neck with the small silver packaging between his fingers. “I know. But great things never came easy right?” Namjoon visibly deflates at the older rapper’s words. He had a point yes, but some points weren’t supposed to be applicable to all fields of life…

Not wanting to prolong your waiting any longer, you lower yourself onto Yoongi’s cock, inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside your warm, velvety walls. Your head falls back at the feeling of his cock inside you. Every time feels like the first.

Once you feel you’ve adjusted enough to Yoongi, you stabilize yourself on Yoongi’s thighs, sliding up until it’s only his head left inside before sliding back down. Your thighs get tired after a while, and Yoongi helps you by gripping your hips and thrusting upwards. As you move up and down and grind back and forth in circles, Yoongi calls Namjoon over just before you reach another climax.

“It’s about time you join the fun here, no? Joonie?” Yoongi playfully mocks the taller man, using your nickname for Namjoon to rile him up even further. You whine when Yoongi pulls out for a moment, closing your eyes as he places a quick kiss on your shoulder

You hear the ripping of a packaging and as you open your eyes, you see Namjoon near you until his thighs are hitting the edge of the bed. You let out a wanton moan when you feel Yoongi prodding his cock against your other hole, shallowly dipping the head in then pulling out. He repeats the action until he deems you’re ready, the slowly lowers you down onto his length.

“Namjoon…” Yoongi says breathily, having difficulty with his self-control with your rim having a vice-like grip on his cock. The other man in front of you doesn’t need to be told twice, slapping his dick against your folds. The action sends lewd sounds resonating throughout the small room, which only sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

Namjoon rests one of his knees on the bed, lowering himself onto your cunt. “Noona, you’re so wet. Fuck… I could just…” Namjoon finally pushes himself inside, “easily slide right in…” he lets out a deep exhale once he’s balls deep inside you.

You’re not doing any better than any of the men, thinking you could just orgasm from the fullness alone. And much to your surprise, you do. And both men keep their hands on you as you tremble like a falling leaf in autumn. “Holy shit!” Namjoon explains, staring at you with his mouth open. Once you stop quivering, they both ask you if you were still okay, and you take a breather before answering them, “I’m good. Just… nothing great ever came easy, right?”

You can practically feel Yoongi smiling from behind you. “That’s my girl.”

“Can I?” Namjoon asks, looking down to where your bodies are connected. You nod once, and Namjoon and your boyfriend start thrusting into you alternately. It doesn’t take long before you reach your climax again, with a ton of help from Namjoon who toys with your clit while snapping his hips into you.

They reach their orgasms not long afterwards. You let them ride out their highs until their cocks gradually turn softer inside you. Feeling spent and immensely satiated, you fall over to Yoongi’s side, falling asleep in mere seconds.

The two rappers collapse onto the bed, but sit abruptly sit upright when they hear a very familiar voice coming from Namjoon’s phone. “Fucking hell! That was the hottest shit ever!” Hoseok exclaims from the screen.

“You called him?!” Yoongi asks, hitting Namjoon’s forearm. “No! I- I must’ve contacted him while I put my phone there…crap.” Namjoon looked completely bewildered.

“Hyung, can I come to Amsterdam too? Please?!”

#bts smut #bangtanhq #btsguild #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #kim namjoon #min yoongi

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impossiblelibrary · 3 years

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Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

#queer eye #Queer eye Japan #original #rant

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harryspet · 4 years

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Her Millionaire Daddy - h.s.

[WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS] harry styles x named oc, daddy kink, wealthy!man, innocent!virgin!girl, hj, manipulation (dubcon?) some f'd up stuff from my dark mind

In which harry is a millionaire (duh) with a daddy kink takes advantage of his young and inexperienced neighbor.

She lived on the fourth floor of his building. One of the twenty that he owns and the one where he lived on the penthouse floor. Harry saw Grace all the time, admiring her, as she came to and from school. She looked like an angel to him, one he quickly grew obsessed with, though they only had a few interactions with each other. She knew him as the super rich guy who always greeted her in the elevator.

The first time he asked her if she wanted to house sit for him, she was taken aback, wondering how the opportunity of a lifetime could come so easily. He was offering her way more than minimum wage to do it and she was only a senior in high school. It was a little insane to anyone looking in from the outside especially since she was one girl and it was a twenty-million-dollar house.

Still, in Harry's eyes, the girl could do little wrong and it was another way to get her closer to him. He had been with a lot of women and could be with even more but, somehow, the forbidden fruit that she was seemed much sweeter than all the women in the city.

She'd stay at the house hours at the time while he was out of the country on business ventures. He insisted she make herself at home while she was there and the gifts he constantly left for her made the invitation more inviting. He watched her the whole time through an app on his phone connected the cameras around the house. Of course, he didn't mention the cameras and that was because he thought he'd catch her doing something less than nice.

But no, she spent her time watching TV, eating sweets, and dancing down the long hallways.

When he finally returned home, he expected to find her as soon as he walked inside, but she was nowhere to be seen. A big part of him was excited to see her but, when he found her crying outside his office, it seemed he was the last person she wanted to see. "M-Mr. S-Styles," She stuttered, her lip trembling, as her eyes met his.

"What happened, Grace? Did someone hurt you?" He asked, crouching down to where she sat on the floor. She was clutching her calf so he took it and examined it. There was a cut on it but it didn't seem that she was worried about it.

"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have come down here but, I-I got bored, I-I didn't mean to break anything but . . . I-I'm sorry, Mr. Styles."

"Hey, it's okay," He assured her, keeping his voice calm. He helped her up from her place on the ground. "I'm sure whatever it is, it can be replaced."

He pushed open the door to his office and found the glass that was the source of the cut. There was a lamp on his desk table that she had knocked over, "It was an accident b-but I'll pay for it, I-I promise. It probably cost a fortune, didn't it? Y-You can have all the money back that you gave me and-"

She followed behind him, rambling about how sorry she was and what she would do to pay for it. He had never seen her this . . . vulnerable and the dark parts of his mind liked it, "It's fine, angel," He hugged her and it was the first time he really got to feel her petite body against his. She accepted the touch, of course, crying into his chest. "My mother bought it for me to decorate my office with a long time ago, when I first started working, so there's really no replacing it. Besides that, I could never ask you to pay for something like that. God knows, that woman probably bought it at some boutique in Paris."

That was a lie. The only thing his Mom cared to give him was her multi-million dollar company.

She looked up at him with her big eyes, "Really? Then it's not fine. I'm so sorry, Mr. Styles. I'm so stupid."

"Don't say that," He said immediately, "I know how you can make it up to me."

She pulled away from him, a confused look displayed on her face along with her tear stains, "H-How can I make it up to you?"

This was perfect, he has all the money in the world but this was the luckiest he had ever felt. "First, let's get you cleaned up. There's a first aid kit in my bathroom. Come with me, angel." She hadn't even picked up on the new pet name he created for her since she was a bit overwhelmed at the moment.

He brought her to his bathroom and found the first aid kit underneath the sink. He set it down before he suddenly lifted her onto the counter. A yelp of surprise left her lips and her cheeks turned red from embarrassment.

He cleaned up the cut for her and she admired how a muscular person could be so gentle with her. "Do you want this one?" He asked, picking out the pink band-aid out of the rainbow of assorted colors, and grin on his handsome face.

She nodded, still blushing because he must have noticed that it was her favorite color. She didn't leave the house without her lucky pink ribbon that tied around her ponytail. He pressed it onto her skin before grabbing a washcloth and wetting it.

Her heart raced as he grabbed her chin, lifting it, so he could see her face more clearly. He wiped the dried, salty tears from beneath her cheeks. When he was done, he pushed the locks of baby hair behind her ears. "There's the beautiful girl I know," he commented confidently.

"Um . . . thank you, Mr. Styles." His eyes fell down to her thighs, where the skirt she was wearing was riding up her leg.

"I know the first thing that you could do to make it up to me," He asked, putting a hand on her knee. She hadn't even noticed it as she perked up at the comment.

"What's that?"

"You can call me Daddy instead of Mr. Styles."

"Oh," That confused her, "But you're not . . ."

"I know, think of it as a term of endearment. Like how you call a really good girl friend of yours, sister. Or a close family friend of yours, cousin."

"Okay," She nodded and he looked at her expectantly. "Oh . . . okay, Daddy."

The fact that she didn't know why he wanted her to call him that made him curious. What other things did she not know?

"Good girl, Grace, you catch on quickly," He praised her which made her grin, "You just turned eighteen, right? Then you've . . . been with a boy before?"

"Been with? I have classes with lots of boys. My chemistry lab partner is a boy," She rambled before realizing what he was probably asking, "Oh, are you asking if I've had a boyfriend?"

He nodded, "I had a boyfriend once in sixth grade. Greg Bradley . . . it lasted a week. Now he goes to an alternative school so I don't see him much. Why?"

"Nothing . . . I was just expecting you to have some experience. That's okay, you don't have to help me. You should probably get going before your Mom gets home."

"Wait-" She grabbed his arm before he could turn away from her. "I don't have much experience . . . with boys but I can still help, I promise. Just show me what to do . . . please let me make it up to you, Daddy."

He sighed, rubbing his beard as he contemplated it, "Okay, fine, but you'll have to learn fast."

She nodded, "I will."

He helped her off the counter and led her back into the master bedroom. The rays from the sunset filled the room and contrasted with dark furniture of his bachelor pad. Still, he liked the idea of keeping them open and risking someone looking in. It added to the thrill of it all.

He patted a spot on the bed and told her to sit down. He turned to face the nightstand, momentarily feeling the erection that was already pressing against his black slacks. He took a seat beside her, "You probably don't notice but there is a way that women can bring men a lot of pleasure. It works the same vice versa. Usually, people who date do stuff like this and I imagine all of your classmates do stuff like this. I guess that your mother never taught you about it."

She shook her head, "She works a lot and she doesn't really like romantic stuff." He took her hand and placed it on the erection resting in his boxers. He held it there and then he felt between her legs over the fabric of the skirt. Her body flinched out of instinct but, she didn't stop him, letting him continue his lesson.

"These parts of us can provide us a lot of pleasure, especially if they are stimulated," Feeling her, watching her react to his touch, certainly made him feel like he was going to bust out of his pants. "Do you want to try?"

She nodded nervously. He reached into his nightstand to pull out a black squeeze bottle. "Open your hands," he told her and she did. A clear liquid came out when he squeezed a drop on her hand. He learned that a little went a long way. "Rub it in."

It easily coated her palms and she brought it to her nose, "It smells like strawberries."

"What does it taste like?" He asked her curiously.

He watched her cautiously stick her tongue out to lick it, "It taste like strawberries too." Somehow, that made her a little bit less nervous.

He undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Watching her reaction, he took out his member, before moving one of her newly lubricated hands to it. He guided her for the first part, creating an up and down motion. As she got used to it, he let her go alone. Meanwhile, he undid the buttons of his dress shirt now that things were heating up.

"Does that feel good, Mr- oops . . . Daddy?" She asked after a second of her new task.

He nodded immediately, "It's wonderful, Angel," He leaned closer to her, pulling her tucked shirt from her skirt, "Why don't we take that shirt of yours off."

And they did, and he eagerly tossed it to the side. He fiddled with the pink bra she wore before exposing her pert breast. He notices that made her shy and she tried to cover them with the hand that wasn't stroking his member.

He moved so he was lying down on the bed and she was on her knees beside him, bent over his crotch. "Use both hands," he encouraged her, "And twist your hands more, angel." She listened and he got a better view of her.

Both hands allowed her to cover more length and he seemed to like the twisting motion a lot by the groans that left his lips.

"Look at Daddy, angel," He commanded, watching how focused she was getting on the task at hand. He was already close which wasn't something he was used to. Usually, he'd want her mouth as well but her hands felt like complete magic.

He pulled her beside him and that's when he kissed her. He didn't know it but her soft lips would send him over the edge, leading to his climax. It dirtied her skirt but it wasn't something she was worried about. Mr. Styles had taken her first kiss and it felt weird but . . . nice. "Fuck, you're good at that, angel," That made her blush.

There was so much left for them to do and for him to teach her. He decided that he would save taking her virginity for some time in the future. He'd keep her pure and have his little angel in every other way.

word count: 2050

Hey, guys, I’m Rae! I think tumblr is seriously lacking in some good dark fics so I decided I would dedicate a blog to writing some. Let me know if you think I should make this a series!

check out my next fic A Wive’s Duty if you enjoyed this one!

#dark fic #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles au #ceo au #ceo harry #writing #fiction #harry fanfic #one direction #fanfiction #dark harry #oneshot #harry oneshot #dark!#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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flamediel · 3 years

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yo dont know yashua you cant say he's racist how woulf you feel if someone judged you based on your religion and called you racist and sexist for it? its his right ot believe what he wants and you are being like a nazi attacking him

ok, look. I was just gonna delete this or respond to this w a meme and laugh it off (and the girlies on my snap KNOW this made me cackle) but we’re talking about a particularly insidious brand of racism and misogyny and I feel the need to elaborate. for those who didn’t see this is the post we are discussing.

Let’s start by discussing the tradwife movement. this post was tagged as tradwife, so you can’t tell me it’s not associated with the movement. the hashtag is at the top of the pic and tagged in the description, so it’s hard to miss. Yashua commented on a post with those hashtags being VERY visible saying he liked that, so he v obviously subscribes to those ideas.

What is the tradwife movement? it means “traditional wife” and it originated in alt-right spaces as a means of getting women to subscribe to right-wing ideals. This NYT Opinion piece by Annie Kelly, a Ph.D. student researching the impact of digital cultures on anti-feminism and the far right, describes this phenomenon in incredible depth. Here is a short explanation of where the movement started, pulled from Ms. Kelly’s article

“Some members of the alt-right have been weighing whether the absence of women from their movement is a problem. In 2016, the Swedish nationalist Marcus Follin, who calls himself The Golden One on YouTube, made a video titled “The Women Question.” In it, he urged his followers to dial down the open misogyny and consider new strategies to win over more women to the white nationalist cause. Mr. Follin was responding to statistics from the Austrian presidential election that year, in which female voters helped swing the election away from the candidate of the far-right Freedom Party. “You might not like that women have the right to vote, you might not like that anyone has the right to vote,” Mr. Follin conceded, “but it’s about winning a long-term political victory.

Enter the tradwives.

Over the past few years, dozens of YouTube and social media accounts have sprung up showcasing soft-spoken young white women who extol the virtues of staying at home, submitting to male leadership and bearing lots of children — being “traditional wives.”

If you read through that tiny snippet of the article, what are some keywords that stand out? for me, it’s “alt-right,” and “white nationalist.” The racism there is unmistakable, and while Yashua may not be white he has previously expressed some incredibly racist viewpoints, like how him kissing a Russian woman ended racism and his saying the n-word despite doing the most to separate himself from the black community when it’s even slightly inconvenient for him. If he’s following and participating in tradwife circles, then he’s also v much a part of white supremacist and anti-black movements (yes, POC can be parts of those movements, no it does not make it ok).

The article also makes it incredibly clear how misogynistic the tradwife movement is:

Female fears of objectification and sexual violence remain as potent as ever; the tradwife subculture exploits them by blaming modernity for such phenomena, and then offers chastity, marriage and motherhood as an escape. As one such YouTube commentator, a teenager, told her audience, traditionalism does “what feminism is supposed to do” in preventing women from being made into “sexual objects” and treated “like a whore.”

It’s a lie, of course. Modesty has never been a safeguard against degradation or rape, and we know that a rapist is no less likely to hurt a woman simply because he’s married to her. But it’s not difficult to see how it could be a seductive lie; the continuous headlines made by the #MeToo movement, paradoxically, were eagerly shared among tradwife networks, as supposed proof that sexual liberation had made life unacceptably dangerous for women.

if you read this and aren’t completely appalled by how this movement preys on women’s fears to push them into pursuing subservient roles in relationships with abusive men, then idk how to better explain it for you. White female victimhood has always been weaponized by right-wing movements to tempt them into joining their ranks, but for a man of color with a predominantly brown, Latin American fanbase to be advocating for this shit? He is exposing mostly young, impressionable women of color to a culture that wants them dead, and that will happily manipulate them in order to achieve their ends. he has a platform, and he’s using it to explicitly harm his fans. This has nothing to do with religion, it has to do with the explicit rhetoric of the movement that he showed support for. he isn’t racist and sexist for being Christian (although, Christianity in and of itself is heavily tied to racism and misogyny and, like most organized religions, its members need to evaluate these stances to make sure they don't perpetuate them) he is racist and sexist for supporting ang giving a platform to the tradwife movement.

Now that we’ve discussed the movement as a whole, let’s talk about the meme itself. Of course, the biggest umbrella is Jesus Christ, alluding to how Christian faith protects followers from the “rain” or any harmful things. that’s fine, that’s just Christianity. the problem is what comes next, the husband's umbrella labeled with “protecting” and “providing for the family.” UNDER that, and thus presumably less importantly, is the wife’s umbrella labeled with “managing the home” and “having children.” The meme very clearly positions the wife’s role as subservient to the husband’s. Look, it’s perfectly okay to want to be a housewife and devote yourself to kids, but this responsibility is not less than that of the breadwinner. Housework is literally a necessity in maintaining livable conditions, and the reality is in traditional family setups it’s considered menial. if a wife wants to stay home and take care of the kids that’s fine, and if you want to marry a woman that’s into that then that’s also fine, but that woman is not lesser than you. Her role is equal to yours, and just as necessary to sustaining your life as yours is to sustaining hers. Putting a woman’s role under yours, no matter your ideal family dynamic, is sexist. That is a very basic misogynistic ideal, and we cannot ignore that.

Now, onto your comment specifically.

“how woulf [sic] you feel if someone judged you based on your religion and called you racist and sexist for it”

I am not judging Yashua based on his religion. He is a Christian, and I don’t judge him based solely on that fact. I judge him based on specific problematic things he’s said to support his Christianity. Calling Buddha an “old fat man” is racist, regardless if you’re a Christian or not. Implying that women are subservient to men is sexist, regardless if you’re a Christian or not. These are not isolated incidents with him, and they point to deeper-rooted beliefs that are frankly concerning. It’s not about the fact he’s Christian, it’s about his specific beliefs.

I’m not going to pretend that there are no problematic sects and beliefs in Islam, but I am comfortable in the fact that I don’t support them, and in fact actively advocate against many of them. I’m literally going into Human Rights to help fight the racism and misogyny ingrained in my country’s religious laws. this is by no means comparable to Yashua, and if you’re implying that I’m racist or sexist on the very basis of my being Muslim you are not only wrong but also islamophobic as fuck.

“its [sic] his right ot [sic] believe what he wants”

Yes, it is. So long as those beliefs don’t actively harm other people, especially marginalized groups like these do. and guess what anon? if he has the right to believe what he wants, so do I. and I believe he’s a racist, misogynistic asshole who is in desperate need of self-reflection. The difference between mine and his beliefs is that mine don’t actually harm anyone and are well-founded. his are actively hurting his fans, and he needs to fix up because he is spreading incredibly fucked up beliefs.

“you are being like a nazi attacking him”

um. yeah, NO. it is not like nazism to call someone out for perpetuating alt-right ideas. if anything, calling out pro-nazi propaganda is uhh. probably one of the least nazi-like thing someone can do. also equating me calling out a problematic meme to a literal genocide is anti-Semitic and tone-deaf as fuck. Don’t pull that shit here.

well then, I think this is a good enough response. I am very passionate about these issues, and if someone else wants to discuss them I am happy to, but just an FYI, I expect you to be coming in with proper manners. the only reason I answered this ask is because it was an important conversation starter, but if anyone brings this energy into my ask box again it’s a straight block. I hope that’s clear, and that this was helpful. Let me know if you want me to adjust the tags on this post, I did my best but I know this can be a triggering topic, so if you need anything specific tagged just shoot me an ask or a dm. Stay safe!

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nekojitachan · 4 years

Text

Okay, so this is... IDK what this is. I guess this is the bare bones of my take on The Old Guard with the Monsters/AFTG.

Uhm, warning for people dying/violence, not in very nice ways, some of them (Nicky’s is vaguely tied to canon if you think about it).

*******

Somehow, it didn’t come as a big surprise to Anders when he and his twin came back to life after being killed by the raiders who’d stormed their longhouse, along with everyone else. The strangers had sneered at him and Aron, the ‘living’ vessels of their people’s twin gods, then invoked the name of their own unknown god as they shoved their bronze swords repeatedly into their flesh. Anders had a small knife he’d hidden beneath his robes, but he hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight against trained warriors.

(He’d repeatedly asked to be taught to fight, but Tilda had just laughed and ignored him, too busy soaking up the attention she garnished as the mother of a god’s vessels. Too busy drinking fermented berries and milk to care about how Knut, the elder, mistreated them.)

No, unlike Aron, Anders considered being unable to die (well, to remain dead) a curse instead of another sign of the twin gods’ favor, proof that the Fates took great pleasure in tormenting them. They didn’t age and they healed no matter how badly they were hurt, yet they weren’t immune to starvation, cold temperatures or other things which made life difficult.

They had no choice but to constantly move on, with no family to take them in and strangers suspicious of them if they remained in one place too long. Aron soon grew bitter when he realized that no woman would want him anymore once she continued to age and he didn’t, and it was much the same for Anders if he felt an attraction for another man.

It went on that way for almost eighty years, the two of them isolated from the rest of the world by some terrible curse, until they were driven from sleep one night by the image of a teenaged boy with long, dark auburn hair and pale blue eyes, beaten and bloodied, being held down by two men while an older man with similar pale eyes and red hair cut close to his scalp grinned as he slit the boy’s throat.

Only the boy didn’t remain dead, because the next image showed him alive (and covered in blood) as he stood by a pyre with a woman’s body on it, then as he scavenged through the ransacked sheep farm for anything useful he could find before he took off running. Anders stared at his twin as the images faded away, at the shock in hazel eyes the same color as his own, and knew they shared the same thought as well as appearance; it wasn’t just a dream, and they were no longer alone.

They set out to find the redhead, but the young man proved as elusive as a dream. Anders took to calling him the rabbit, because it felt as if they were chasing such a creature through a forest during the night, fumbling along like a bunch of clumsy fools while it vanished with ease into the thick foliage. The occasional dreams were of little help, because as soon as they figured out the redhead’s location in the dream, he always was gone by the time they finally got there.

Anders was going to cut his tendons a few dozen times when they finally caught up to the flighty bastard.

So six hundred years later, when they had another dream of a tall youth with black hair and green eyes being killed in battle, they wasted no time tracking him down to the island of the Celts. Caoimhín wasn’t a runner like the rabbit and refused to leave until he (along with Anders and Aron) almost ended up as a solstice sacrifice.

Funny how almost being set on fire while alive motivated one to see the world.

Anders began to regret the whole ‘let’s save a fellow immortal’ thing after a decade or two, when Caoimhín proved to be an annoying know-it-all. If the tall bastard wasn’t so good at fighting… he did come in handy whenever Anders managed to ‘upset’ the locals for interfering whenever the assholes were selling slaves (especially children) or mistreating servants – which was often. Aron yelled at him for having the subtlety of a raging bull, but the Persians got on his nerves, as did the Romans, and the Huns and the Franks, and… well, any bastards who thought because they had a bit of land and enough people with pointy weapons that they could boss everyone around.

(Caoimhín said he had a problem with authority. Aron said he was an asshole.)

And through it all, the rabbit. Kept. Running. And. Running.

They finally ran into another immortal who’d been ‘reborn’ a couple decades before when in Damascus, of all places, as Salah ad-Din fought Europe’s Crusaders, and learned that perhaps there was a reason why the rabbit kept his distance. Riko was a viper in human form, and after he did his best to dismember Caoimhín, Anders ‘killed’ him in front of some of Salah ad-Din’s men, leaving them to believe that the other immortal was a djinn when he ‘came back’ to life.

The three of them had no problem abandoning Riko in Damascus, wrapped in iron chains and sealed in a cave.

They kept wandering and fighting what seemed to be hopeless battles, especially with the rise of the Catholic Church. There were times when Anders (now Andrew) wanted to retreat from the world, to find an isolated, empty island and never leave it, but there was Aron (Aaron) and Caoimhín (Kevin), who weren’t quite ready to give up, and a damn rabbit with the clearest blue eyes he’d (sort of) seen who haunted his dreams and taunted him by always being just out of reach.

Then in the 1600s, the three of them dreamed of a new immortal born in the New World, one beaten and starved to death by monks. Unhappy about the thought of the long voyage, Andrew and his fellow ‘monsters’, as he’d come to think of three of them, headed across the Atlantic. It took them almost four years to find Nico, the son of a native woman and a conquistador, who’d been killed because of his attraction to men. The young immortal broke into tears to finally be with his ‘own’ kind, to be safe at last, and was a cheerful presence.

He was even more annoying than Kevin.

They spent a few years wandering the New World, but were drawn back to chasing the rabbit once again; he’d gone to ground in China, leading Andrew to hope that for once he’d stand out and be easy to find, but the damn bastard had developed an almost inhuman skill for learning the local language and blending in wherever he went. Kevin grumbled about him being a damn chameleon, while Aaron wondered if perhaps he’d truly died and they were hunting a ghost.

For some reason… that thought bothered Andrew.

Things carried on as they had before, only it seemed that every time Andrew turned around, the world had changed in some manner. A new country had formed, an old government had been overthrown, a new religion had been invented, yet another senseless war broke out, someone created an invention that upended things in a startling way…. He still remembered how for so long everyone had used bronze swords until someone had figured out how to smelt iron, how there’d only been longhouses and small farms until all of a sudden towns and then cities began to appear.

Change was inevitable, as was the fact that humans would twist some of those changes into something bad.

Still, he never thought that those changes would lead to things that would enable him and his monsters to travel the world in days (and then hours) instead of months or weeks, that wars would break out that spanned continents and could destroy entire cities in minutes. The four of them saved what they could, but soon it became impossible to keep up, not just because there were so many lives in danger and so much being destroyed, but because they could no longer fade into the shadows with ease with things like digital records and cameras in existence.

They learned as much as they could about modern technology; Nico (Nicky) and Aaron took to social media without any problems, while Andrew and Kevin picked up some hacking skills. They bought the best fake IDs possible and did everything they could to leave no trace online.

Yet they couldn’t stay in one place very long, not when they kept working, when they used the skills they’d honed over centuries to help people in need. Which was why they were traveling from France to England via the Chunnel; Andrew refused to give up his customized Maserati just yet, so they’d take the car with them on the train.

They didn’t expect any issue with their papers, especially since they’d used them a few days ago, so it was a surprise when a customs official in Calais frowned when he scanned Aaron’s while the machine beeped several times. Then the same thing happened with Nicky’s. Andrew tensed and tugged the cap on his head further down as he prepared to fight while Kevin did the same; their weapons were hidden in the special compartment in the Maserati, but they were good at improvising.

However, before they could react more than that, a familiar voice called out in French to the customs officials, one Andrew recognized with ease from his dreams over the last three millennia; the rabbit, dressed in a customs uniform, his dark auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail that trailed just past his shoulders, tapped the official who held Aaron’s documents and said he’d check it out, that there was an issue with the scanners. He purposely didn’t look at any of them as he did something to the scanner then ran the passport again, which beeped once in an ‘all clear’. Then he went to do the same for Nicky’s as the fool gaped at him.

As soon as Andrew was cleared, he stalked after his quarry, who to be fair didn’t try to run (for once). He grabbed the other immortal by the wrist and spun him around, part of him noticing that the rabbit was only a couple inches taller (which was a welcome change, considering how for the last few centuries, everyone towered over him). About to curse the bastard out for leading him on a merry chase for over three. Fucking. Millennia, he found himself stunned silent when the rabbit smiled.

(Maybe he should have considered what would happen when he finally caught the redhead.)

*******

Yes, Andrew, what does happen next???

I’ve never taken the Chunnel, so sorry if I messed something up there (I wrote what I did to fit the story). It’s a bit vague, but the twins are Scandinavian Bronze age, Neil is England Bronze Age (around Middle Bronze Age), Kevin is Ireland @ 600 BC, and Nicky is Mexico @ 1600′s. I debated having Andrew and Aaron separated, until I saw the twin gods thing. They were together, but per Tilda’s crappy parenting, they had a very rough childhood with Andrew protecting Aaron.

Mary raised Neil (Ram) to be cautious/wary of strangers. I’m thinking Nathan was a sea raider and... well, he came back years later and that time, he wiped out the farm. Neil heeded his mother’s lesson a little too well, but over time he finally came to learn that Andrew and the others weren’t all bad and finally stepped in to help them (and in a way, protected his own hide).

#aftg #aftg au #the old guard au #neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #kevin day #nicky hemmick #riko moriyama #the monsters #neil is very very good at running #andrew is very very frustrated by that fact #andrew should have thought about what happens next after catching neil #oh boy

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fandom-writer642 · 4 years

Text

It’s Been a While (Batfam x Sister!Reader)

Summary: Years ago (Y/n) Al Ghul- Wayne had disappeared from the world without a trace. When she comes back her family has a lot of questions for her and her her two friends, Artemis Fowl II and Holly Short

Warnings: It’s long and I got carried away

Request: No

Pairing?: Family; Batfamily x Sister!Reader

———

Age Ten

(Y/n) scowled from the rooftop, making sure to be unseen by those below her as her brother chased the clawed man. Fighting him into the streets of Gotham wasn’t a smart idea, it was rash with little thought that would only cause trouble. She didn’t need to be part of that, no matter how angry she was she needed something to do instead of sit around the cave all day. Quickly she jumped off the roof and twisted herself and grabbing the streetlight so she didn’t hit the ground. Flipping herself to stand on the light before bounce off the tops of cars and trucks to make sure her brother wasn’t overly harmed. Landing on top of the fence she watched as metal clanged metal before jumping to sit on the streetlight above.

She would stop the fight when she thought necessary, after all, Damian wasn’t exactly a normal child, neither was she but that was different. While she was trained to be a killer she found the works of being a criminal mastermind much more enduring than the works of a mindless assassin. It was when he was bring his sword to lay the final blow did she get ready to leap into action. However, a man in black and blue beat her, kicking her twin through the fence before he could kill the injured man. (Y/n) recognized the vigilante from her grandfather’s and mother’s learnings, his name was Nightwing.

He caught the sword but (Y/n) took action flipping above him and grabbing the sword from his grasp. Sheathing it in her holder as she landed beside him.

“The psychos keep getting younger,” Nightwing muttered, keeping an eye on the girl next to him. She seemed harmless but she had also been watching the scene unfold and took the sword away from him. He knew if she had the intention of harming him she would have done it, he could tell she was a force to be reckoned with just by the glint in her eye that gleamed. It was as if she was sending the message of “I know something you don’t” with her eyes.

“Watch out,” she muttered toward the hero as her twin cane charging toward the pair, mainly the man that had knocked him away. Damian has no reason to go after his sister, she knew when to pick her fights but for once she wasn’t by his side on this one. She helped Nightwing fight him, even going to hand-to-hand combat with her brother who was typically superior in that field but she was much smarter than her brother.

It took some time but soon enough Damian was tied to the streetlight with a gag looking furious. (Y/n) chuckled at the sight before turning toward the scratched up hero with a frown. “Sorry about that. With the sword and all. It’s not easy fighting your own brother especially when their better than you.”

He gave a chuckle, “It’s fine, who are you kids?”

“I’m (Y/n) Al Ghul-Wayne. This is my twin brother Damian. We snuck out of the manor while dad was out on patrol, I just followed so no one would get killed.”

“Nearly failed,” Nightwing commented on.

“What ever you say Grayson. Believe me, my plans never fail.” Once again the glint was in her eye as she smirked, “Call dad, he won’t be happy but he may as well be called.”

The man nodded while the girl walked over to her hanging brother who was spitting curses into the gag while glaring at his sister. In less than twenty minutes all of them were back at the manor and being checked on by Alfred. Dick was getting stitches from Alfred due to Damian’s stricken with a sword while (Y/n) hacked into the government systems at the bat computer, looking bored.

“Maybe you should remember who the blood son is,” Damian hissed at the older man.

“Maybe you should remember who saved your ass back home before the attack,” (Y/n) snipped calmly, seemingly ineffected by her brother’s withering glare. “Now quit glaring at me, I have something to figure out.”

“Besides, it’s more like blood thirsty,” Dick supplied with an ease. Alerting both twins that this wasn’t the first time he had an arguement of insults with someone their age. Dick only seemed to react when Damian went looking through the costumes of the old Robins.

“You can never be too cautious,” Alfred told her as he appeared at her side, in front of the computer. “But never be paranoid, that will bring you a horrible life.”

She blinked at him before glancing up at the pair of males above.

“Thank you Mr. Pennyworth.”

She would keep that information handy for the rest of her life.

Age Eleven

Why Bruce sent her and Tim to Ireland was beyond her. There wasn’t a lot of major crime around that would cause them to go out of country. She didn’t mind time like Damian did, the pair actually got along very well but disagreed on many different topics. She didn’t train to go on the field like her brothers did but she was trained well enough to be able to keep up with what they did. She was smart and worked with technology everyday, so she wasn’t very happy about the mission. She traveled around the city of Dublin calmly, hoping to find something of use of the pointless mission.

They were here to find a supposed criminal mastermind that had gone missing, with no name and little leads, he just lived in Ireland and had quiet a bit of money. It was what brought Tim and (Y/n) to the view tower of The Guinness Factory, surrounded by important people from all over Ireland and some from different countries. She let Tim do the talking to all the others, she was very calm but she wasn’t fond of having a low intellect conversation with someone in the beer factory.

She walked around in her (Favorite color) dress as she rarely stopped to chat. As soon as she got to the bar she was surprised how empty it was for a party. “Not enjoying the party?”

She looked over to her right, only to see a boy that she could have easily mistaken for a young Wayne boy. He had raven black hair and deep blue eyes that took her by surprise, he was pale like a vampire and even wore a smile of one. He seemed to be her age and as deeply as bored as her.

“It’s not my kind of thing,” (Y/n) told the boy in the Armani suit. She had only seen on one man wearing a suit of the same designer, that man was Domovoi Butler who was a manservant and a bodyguard to the Fowl family. “I’m guessing it’s not yours either Artemis Fowl?”

“Why you picked up the clues rather quickly, didn’t you (Y/n) Wayne?”

She rolled her eyes, she had heard of the Fowl family and knew that the man they were looking for has been missing for a year. She could at least have a competent chat with someone her age about things that do not make sense. She had heard of his mother which barely anyone knew about and she had heard of him dropping from boarding school and she had no doubt on why.

“If you’re going to make alliances with those of this higher society to keep your plans under wraps then I would suggest you get talking to them.”

“Well, if your brother and you are looking for my father he was killed a year ago.”

“So it seems Mr. Fowl,” (Y/n) stared with a click of her tongue. “But things aren’t always what they seem. Your family was rich and now you a young eleven-year-old are trying to bring it back up. No one would suspect that you would be as smart as you are today but yet here you are in land of higher life that is much more dangerous.”

“Well Miss Wayne, perhaps we should chat about it somewhere else. After all if anyone heard it would be a shame if your own family secret got out to the press.”

“Black mail doesn’t work on me. I want to help you.”

“With?”

“Your father and mother. You can’t believe that something isn’t going on? The problem is, my family can’t know where I am.”

“Why should I let you help me?”

“How many people do either of us know that are as intelligent or competent as us? Besides, I know more about people, so if we need something socially I can talk.”

“You say you need to hide, who’s believe you are who you say?”

“Artemis, this is the underground network. Things can be well hidden, even my father hasn’t figured out all of the darkest secrets in Gotham. What makes you think he’ll figure this one out?”

“True but, how are you to die? Needs to be something believable.”

“Obviously,” she hissed with an eye roll. “Tim is coming, smile.”

He gave a vampire smile and she put up a false front as her older brother came over. “Hello,” he greeted them both. “You seemed to be missing out on the party sister.”

“I prefer talking to certain people more than others.” Tim frowned and took his leave after grabbing a drink. After at least thirty minutes of silence between the two pre-teens did something happen. Men walked in, guns in hand with a greedy look in their eyes. Butler grabbed Artemis and Artemis grabbed (Y/n), pulling her back with them, into the corner. Butler hide the pair behind him while the two kids shared a look. A gunshot rung out, followed by some more. Tim looked around wildly for his sister, only to see a few men walking over towards the group of three. Guns pointed pointed at them as one shot the window behind them.

“Oh, wonderful,” Tim muttered as he watched the boy and his sister share a look. The pair backed up toward the edge of the window, looking calm and content. Two rings went out and the pair fell from the height. (Y/n) had taken both shots, one right in her left shoulder and another in her right arm. Pain seared through her as the pair free fell. The boy pulled something and a parachute came out and he caught her.

“You’re just prepared for anything aren’t you?” She asked as she clung to him. So she didn’t fall to early.

“Butler always taught me to be prepared for anything.”

The pair ditched the chute in a dumpster and ran, she would guess to his car. It was on that day that (Y/n) Al Ghul-Wayne was said to be dead and the day Damian nearly killed Tim.

Age Twenty-One

(Y/n) had grown since the night of her death. Far more intelligent and far more prepared for the world. She gained friends and helped save the world without her family knowing she was alive. That is what made this so nerve wracking as she stood in front of her father’s home. She had been dead for a decade with not even a sliver of anyone thinking she was alive. Artemis had kept his agreement, he never told a soul about you being alive unless needed. It was her death day and she felt a twist of guilt run through her.

Tim had blamed himself for her death, he was there for it but he was too slow. He would believe anything if it meant she was possibly alive, he would do anything to get her back.

Damian, her twin brother, how she missed him. Was he still as cold and closed off as they were when they were kids? Had he changed?

Dick was the caring eldest brother that had lost yet another sibling. He’d blame himself because he had Bruce put her on that mission.

Jason would understand in a different way, he didn’t know (Y/n) but he had heard about her. The only person that could truly calm Damian with a look if she pleased.

Bruce would blame himself more than anything, he sent her on the mission so he thought it was his fault. She had become very close to everyone in the family which only made her death worse.

“Come on (Y/n),” Holly said. “You’ve saved the world how many times and know you’re afraid to knock on a simple door?”

“Holly, this is different! It’s not like Opal is in there and ready to take over the world again, this is my family who thinks I’ve been dead for the past decade!”

Artemis sighed and just knocked on the door, much to (Y/n)’s alarm. “I’m helping you, whether you like it or not.”

The door was opened by Alfred as always,who as soon as he saw the three dropped the tray in his hands. He knew those eyes anywhere, the glint of “I know something you don’t” was still there with a mix of pain from the past and nerves from the present. The residents of Wayne manor stood at the door, looking in shock as Alfred hugged the girl with (Eye color) eyes that had the same look as always. Some wanted this to be a nightmare but the short auburn haired female was smiling so wide as if she had never smiled before. The male was one Tim recognized from the party all those years ago, Artemis Fowl II.

Alfred held the girl at arms length, “Is it really you Mistress (Y/n)?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “It’s me. I’m alive Alfred. I’m here. Thank Artemis, he was the one who knocked.”

“Yeah, Mudgirl here chickened out,” Holly stated from her spot.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes wiping away the tears and smiled at her family.

“Hi guys, it’s been a while.”

———

Note: This was bad, very bad. But it was fun to write. I got very carried away with it and I didn’t write the characters well but I’m stil posting this because what the hell, why not?

#batfam x batsis #batsiblings #batsis imagine #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #holly short #captain holly short #artemis fowl #artemis fowl x reader #friendship #fake your death #it’s been a while

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mcrmadness · 3 years

Note

I think what the person meant by aroace and bi was a bi-oriented aroace.

Oriented aroace is aroace but the other types of attraction besides sexual and romantic are there and like a sexuality in a way. Like I'm ace but I still say I'm gay bc not only do I have romantic attraction to only men, but I also have aesthetic, sensual, ect attraction towards only men as well

So that persons attractions (besides sexual and romo) are oriented in a bi way

Idk if that made sense but I hope it helped

Ohhhh I see!

I just find it very confusing because personally I am able to divide attraction into 4 or 5 different ones: sexual, romantic, sensual and aesthetic. Of which I myself only experience aesthetic regardless of gender which is why I sometimes might use the word "pan-aesthetic" even. And then there is the fifth one aka platonic attraction which I still don't really understand what it means or feels like. I might be aplatonic too.

So when a term has the word -sexual attached to it, I immediately imagine it also means _sexual attraction which is why I find/found it so confusing because asexuality is the lack (or very small amount) of sexual attraction, so how can one feel and not feel sexual attraction at the same time? Unless their sexuality just is fluid, but I am not sure if there's also a word for that. Actually, I think there's yet another term even in the asexual/aromantic spectrums for this, but I have never heard anyone being both at the exact same time.

I have heard of the -oriented terms before, tho, and have seen people using them, too. They do make somewhat sense but at the same time not (for me, at least), unless it's someone who's maybe demi or greyace, as sometimes people also like to define their gender "preference" (if it's the right word) with these.

More about my personal experiences under the cut ↓↓↓

I guess my own asexuality and aromanticism just are so black&white for me that I find it really confusing when I see posts and terms where these things are basically all over the place. It's so difficult to put them in order in my head when my own order is way different and much "simpler". I cannot even compare sexual and romantic attraction with each other because I don't experience either at all. It's like trying to imagine something that simply does not exist at all.

I also don't experience sensual attraction because I'm touch-repulsed, but I can imagine that it probably feels a bit same as when I see a picture of a tiger and have an urge to pet. Aesthetic is just the urge to "stare", for me. Bit like sometimes I wanna stare at the orange SALE tags because they are so pretty and bright color it almost hurts my eyes. (Ummmm why do I have the sensual and aesthetic urge to do only things that could either kill me or then hurt my eyes??? ::D)

And platonic attraction makes maybe even the less sense for me of these all, especially because I understood that it and "platonic love" are quite far from each other. Or not far, but not linked the same way as e.g. romantic love and romantic attraction are to each other. There are also several different descriptions for platonic attraction, depending on whom you're asking from. But being aplatonic does not mean that one does not want to have friends, that much I know.

This is why I sometimes use the label "loveless aro" but I don't know if there's much or any difference between aplatonic and loveless aro, so I often use them both interchangeably cos I forget which one I like more :DD And whenever I'm confused by platonic attraction, I use 'loveless aro', and whenever I'm confused by loveless aros, then I use aplatonic... simple, but not really... :D

So basically if I was put mine as a list, it would look like this:

Asexual

Aromantic

Asensual

Pan-aesthetic

+ Aplatonic and/or loveless aro.

What I prefer to do is to just stop at that aesthetic/platonic state, and I don't want to start chopping these identities into microlabels inside microlabels as, personally, I don't feel like it serves any purpose for myself. Only exception being that loveless aro one, as it's main idea is that "love is not what makes us human" and it makes me feel better on those days when I start worrying about what if I am a psychopath for not feeling/understanding even platonic emotions.

And then of course I also use the terms sex-repulsed, romance-repulsed and touch-repulsed, but I don't think these have to be tied only to aspec identities. Especially touch-repulsion can simply be just a trauma related. I find it also highly unlikely that every single allosexual is "sex-favorable" even when they experience sexual attraction.

This is actually something I was already so annoyed by even back then when I found out about asexuality for the first time when I was 16 or 17 (it was in 2008), it annoyed me so much that being not-ace automatically meant (or still means) that every allo is sex-favorable.

Back then, asexuality also basically meant only these two: aromanticism + sex-repulsion. At least that's how it was understood in my country back in the day, or at least I understood it that way, as no one talked about romantic orientations yet.

I learnt about romantic orientations a few years later and finally things made even more sense - as for a moment I kept calling myself as "asexual bi". But turns out I was just aroace with ADHD and having people-hyperfixations on online friends! :D

#michaelmyersthestabbyboi #answered asks #aspec #ace #aro

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fedeipox · 3 years

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The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 5 (2/3)

I have finally decided I’m gonna play the game for a fourth time and take some good (at least I hope they’ll be good) pictures. I want to post pictures. Interesting pictures. I have no idea of what kind of photos should I take.

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/638598893496631296/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-5-13

Chapter 5 (2/3) - A little trip

Words: 3k

In the meantime, Charles had come back and stopped his horse right in front of her, who, in some kind of involuntary reflex, took a step backwards.

“Here, you see? You have nothing to be afraid of. She’s calm and completely under control. Touch her.”

“W-what?”

“Come on, stroke her. Here on the neck” said Charles showing her how to do it.

Emily felt her heartbeat speed up as she took a step towards that big creature. She was really doing it, she was really about to touch a horse. Well, technically, she had already touched one, the night they had brought her to camp, but now she was doing it intentionally.

She expected everything from horses but being so soft. They really had the smoothest kind of hair and this new unexpected sensation pushed her to keep touching it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked a familiar voice.

Emily turned her head to look at Arthur and with a thin whisper, just like she was afraid she would have troubled the horse if she spoke too loudly, she said: “I’m touching a horse!”

“What, you never…”

But Arthur had no need to ask it, he could perfectly tell she had never touched a horse from the way she was doing it.

“Not like this” he sighed coming closer and throwing away his cigarette.

“You always have to keep her calm, so use all your hand, like this” he said patting the horse’s neck and Emily couldn’t not notice how big his hands were.

She followed his example, but the horse, with all those hands on it, for a moment felt irked and shook its big neck. Emily gasped and took a step back, withdrawing her hand like a shellfish inside its shell.

“Shh shh shh. Easy. You have nothing to worry about, really. She’s the quietest horse on earth” said Charles.

“It’s a she? What’s her name?” asked Emily.

“Taima.”

“I’ve never seen a horse with all these strange colors” she stated touching a lock of the horse’s mane.

Taima was brown, a little bit reddish, black, white, grey, spotted, plain. She looked like a Picasso of colors.

“This breed generally is” answered Charles.

“Breeds? There are horses breeds?”

Arthur and Charles exchanged a puzzled look before they both looked at her.

“Sorry, stupid question. From the way you’re looking at me I guess there are horses breeds.”

After a moment of silence, Emily took a step away and said: “okay, thank you Charles.”

“What, you’re done? You don’t want to mount up?” he asked.

Emily froze.

“What? No no no. Never.”

“You have to learn if you want to move around here.”

“I don’t need to. I can use the wagons.”

“A wagon is far slower and catches more attention. Charles is right: you should learn” said Arthur.

“I will never get on one of these things.”

“It’s easy. Show her, Arthur.”

Emily withdrew as she watched Mr. Morgan put both his hands on the saddle and a foot in the stirrup.

“If you want to sit straddle, you do this way” he said hoisting up and sitting on the back of Taima.

“But if you wear a dress and you want to sit like a lady… Charles would you help her?”

Charles walked by her side and did as to take her by her waist, but she took a step back and shook her head.

“No, no, really…”

“We’ll be right here. Nothing will happen” Charles reassured her.

“And I’m staying on the horse with you” added Arthur looking at her from above.

Emily felt something moving inside her stomach: he was staying with her on the horse. She walked towards Charles’s hands who in a blink of an eye raised her and she found herself on a pretty hard saddle and with her face very close to Arthur’s. He smelled of tobacco.

“See there’s nothing to worry about. When you’ll start to feel comfortable on a horse, Charles here can teach you how to ride.”

“Can’t you teach me?” she asked naively.

Arthur’s eyes met hers and for a second all around her slowed down.

What was she doing? Was she really starting to like him? An outlaw, a criminal, a man who was at least ten years older than her?

He chuckled and looked away.

“I can’t, Miss. I’m leaving tomorrow” he said.

Leaving? To go where? To do what? She wanted to ask all these questions, but all that she could do was saying a disconsolate “oh”.

“But don’t you worry, Charles here is one of the best riders, he’ll do a great job.”

An idea popped in Emily’s mind: if she had learned how to ride a horse by the time Arthur had come back, they would have been able to wander around together. Again, it was a silly and childish thought, but Emily was like this, sweet and naive.

She stretched out her arms and made Charles understand she wanted to get down. He dutifully helped her and then Arthur dismounted Taima.

“Which one is your horse, Arthur?” she asked looking at the other animals around her.

“That one” he pointed to a spotted brown and white horse.

“Is it a ‘he’ or a ‘she’?”

“A ‘he’” he answered walking towards it with Emily right behind him.

“He has a name?”

“Not yet. I found it recently and I haven’t had the time to choose one.” To Emily that white and brown mantle reminded more of a cow than a horse, and cows reminded her of ranches. Looking at Arthur for a brief moment, she imagined him like a rancher, with that cowboy hat and a whip in his hands to make the cattle move, and a name appeared in her mind.

“Drover” she murmured.

“Drover? You have an unusual taste for horses names” he laughed.

“I didn’t know there was a rule for horses names.”

He chuckled and silence fell again as Emily couldn’t remove from her head the idea that he was going to leave.

“Where will you go tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’ll wander for a bit, see if I can find something, stay on my own.”

“How long are you going to stay away?”

She couldn’t restrain herself from asking and for a second she had the impression that Arthur was becoming suspicious of all those questions, but he fast hided it.

“I don’t know, as long as I need.”

“But… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You already have all the freedom you can possibly want here. You can leave tomorrow morning and come back in the evening, no-one said you have to spend days out. And then, what will you do on your own? Without company. Won’t you be bored to death? Or feel lonely?”

Arthur smiled and shook his head. No, she couldn’t understand, and he couldn’t understand her, either. Their time was different, their way to do things was different, Emily knew it, deep inside her. Arthur didn’t, because he couldn’t accept the fact that she came form another time, but he had realized she had a different mindset and that was exactly what made him curious about her, even though he didn’t feel the same she felt for him.

“I have my own way of doing things” he cut short in the end.

Emily just nodded and she was about to walk away when she thought about something else.

“I’m sorry about this morning. You were right, I shouldn’t stick my nose in your life. Peace?” she asked showing him her little finger.

Arthur smiled again at that childish way to apologize and then murmured “peace” before he patted her on her shoulder and walked away.

...

Who knew what he was going to do around the country all alone for an indefinite number of days? Emily kept asking herself that, while she walked around camp again. Her feet brought her back to her tent where Karen and Mary-Beth were seated.

“Hi, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Mending socks” replied Mary-Beth. Then, she raised her look on Emily and frowned slightly.

“What have you been doing? Your hair is messy” she asked.

“Oh, I played with Jack. The brush is in your crate, right?” said Emily walking to the back of the wagon.

“Yes, always there.”

Emily opened Mary-Beth’s crate and took her hairbrush, which she had already used plenty of times in the previous days. It wasn’t something she was used to, use other people things, especially hairbrushes, but she had no choice. She returned to the front of the wagon and took a seat next to them.

“Uff, it’s not fair. Men can go around, drink, fight, do whatever they want, and we are forced to stay here and sew socks” complained Mary-Beth.

“Who said that? We can take a wagon and go to Valentine. Have some fun, meet some people…” replied Emily.

“Yeah, keep living in the dream land” said Karen with her usual sarcasm.

Emily put the brush down to look at her.

“We are free. Don’t let anyone ever tell you something different” she stated with the hardest tone she could use.

“Yeah, look at how much freedom we got.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mary-Beth.

“They don’t allow us to do anything apart from… clean, govern the house and lie on our backs for money. If that means freedom for you.”

Emily sighed. It was 1899, she always had to remind herself that.

“I guess you’re right. We can’t even vote” murmured Mary-Beth.

“Why you care about voting?” asked Karen.

“I don’t know, it’s one of the things I’d like to do.”

“Don’t worry, you will. And soon” said Emily with a big smile.

“Really? When?” exclaimed Mary-Beth while Karen scoffed.

Emily moved her eyes from one to the other.

“I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“Oh come on! It won’t make any difference if two people know” Mary-Beth encouraged her.

Emily leaned forward and made sign to her to do the same.

“1920” she whispered.

“So early! Really?”

“Yeah, of course” Karen snorted.

“Well, when we get to 1920 we’ll see who’s right. We’re all gonna make it to that year” Emily replied.

Karen frowned and fixed her eyes on Emily’s face, who stared back at her.

“We?” she asked.

“Well, until I find a way to time-travel back to 2020 I don’t see I have much of a choice. And when all the things I say will happen, one after the other, even you will have to believe me.”

Emily smiled. She smiled not because she had cornered Karen, but because she thought that, if Karen started to believe her, they could’ve become friends, or at least she would stop to dislike her for no reason, and in time she’d be forced to believe her.

“Anyway” said Karen shaking her head. “Even if we’ll get to vote, who will you vote for?” she asked to Mary-Beth.

“Well… I have no idea. When the time comes I’ll think about it” she answered.

“Who’s your president now?” asked Emily. She couldn’t remember.

“P. W. McIntosh” answered Karen.

“Oh right.”

“What about 2020? Who’s the president?” asked Mary-Beth.

“Oh, she is a great woman. Just think that…”

“Wait. She?” exclaimed Karen.

Both she and Mary-Beth were looking at her with their eyes wide open.

“Yes, she’s a woman. I told you, things are different in the future. No more discrimination.”

Emily was surprised by the fact that a woman president was shocking them so much. After all, they only had one hundred years of difference, how much could the minds change in one hundred years? Apparently, a lot.

“So, what we have to do if we want to go to Valentine?” she asked.

“We need a man with us” answered Mary-Beth.

“Oh gosh” she whispered. She didn’t like this patriarchal way to do things at all.

“What if we want to go alone?”

“If we go alone, we go on foot” replied Karen.

“Why not with a wagon?”

“If they steal the wagon in town, it will be our fault. It already happened in the past” answered Mary-Beth.

“So, no wagon. Horses?”

The idea wasn’t appealing, but she would do anything to have a little independence.

“Same thing. If they steal one, we won’t be able to buy another” said Karen.

“And why should the presence of a man change things?”

“Because men are intimidated by other men, not women” replied Karen.

Her tone was so matter-of-factly, that Emily found nothing to reply.

“Okay, okay. Who do you think is going to come with us?”

They thought of Charles or Javier. They seemed to be the fittest for the task. Emily suggested Uncle, but the two girls denied vigorously. Uncle was useless.

“Okay, I’ll go ask them” said Emily standing up.

“Now?” asked Mary-Beth.

“When else? We still have most of the day.”

“What about Miss Grimshaw?” asked Mary-Beth.

“We have to ask permission? We’re not working” stated Emily.

“She wants to know if we leave camp” replied Karen.

“Okay, I’ll ask her first. You two get ready. And ask Tilly if she wants to come” she yelled running away.

Emily found Miss Grimshaw behind Dutch’s tent, taking a break and admiring the landscape. She asked permission, trying not to sound begging and pathetic, and to her great surprise she didn’t object. Feeling light and a little thrilled by her success she hopped in the opposite direction again to reach the campfire where she had seen Javier. On her way she walked past Hosea, seated at the round table and reading a book.

“Why so happy, Miss Emily?” he asked as he noticed her big smile.

“I’m going to town!” she rejoiced.

“To do what?”

“Explore!”

Javier was sharping a little tiny knife when Emily reached him, and she got curious, so first of all she asked him what use might have such a small knife.

“It’s a throwing knife” he answered.

“You mean you throw it to people?”

Javier shrugged.

“Of course. Erm… I wanted to ask you, would you come with us in town? The girls and I wanted to have a look around.”

“Just me and the four of you?”

“Do you need someone else? I was about to ask Charles.”

“Go ask him. I’ll get the wagon ready” he said standing up.

...

The girl smiled at him and her eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, Javier. You’re really kind” she said with her light and childish voice. Then, she leaned forward and left a soft kiss on his cheek.

Javier watched at her slim figure as she walked away, feeling the piece of skin she had touched itching slightly. She had called him kind. People used to call him in many ways, but kind, never. She was crazy, no doubt about that, and naive, and quirky, but she was also the sweetest thing he had ever seen, and he couldn’t not think of her in the most innocent way because every other kind of thought, felt wrong.

He took a couple of horses and tied them to a wagon, then he hopped in the back and waited for the rest of them to come. He heard them before he saw them. They were loud. Well, they were girls. That was going to be an adventure.

“Come on brother” he said to Charles as they both climbed at the leading place.

On the road to Valentine they listened quietly to the girls’ conversation, smiling or chuckling every now and then. They were planning their time in town. Karen and Tilly wanted to go find some money, the new girl insisted for exploring the surroundings.

“We’ll split up then. Charles, you go with Karen and Tilly at the saloon. I’m coming with you two. How does it sound?” asked Javier.

“Good” answered Mary-Beth.

“Do you think we should have asked Molly to come with us? Or Abigail maybe?” asked the new girl.

“Abigail would never leave Jack behind. Miss O’Shea fancies herself a society woman, she would’t have come” said Tilly.

“What do you mean she fancies herself a society woman?”

“She believes she’s better than us because she’s with Dutch” replied Mary-Beth.

“Are they a couple?”

“Ah-ah” affirmed Tilly.

“So there are: Dutch and Molly, Abigail and John… some other couple?”

“Karen waits for Sean to come back” said Mary-Beth.

“If he’s still alive” murmured Karen lowering her eyes.

She missed that little piece of shit. She loved him, deep deep deep inside. She had never told him, and in case he was going to show up again, she had no intention to say it anyway, it would be too much for his already pompous ego.

...

“What about you girls?” asked Emily avoiding an embarrassing and sad silence.

“Us? With someone in camp?” asked Tilly, but her question was clearly rhetoric.

“Why not? I mean…”

Emily nodded towards Javier and Charles’s backs. The two girls shook their heads frowning slightly.

“Okay, so… everybody else is free?” she asked, but in her mind there was only one person she wanted to know about.

“Hosea had a wife once. She died long time ago, even before some of us were in the group” said Mary-Beth.

“And Arthur had that girl. What was her name?” asked Karen.

Emily’s heart lost a beat.

“Mary. I’ve never liked her” said Mary-Beth.

“W-why?” asked Emily trying to hide her disappointment.

“I think she left Arthur because she thinks to be better than him. She doesn’t deserve him.”

Emily felt immediately better. It was an old story, something of the past. And she had left him, so there was no chance for her return.

“What about you?” Tilly asked her.

“I had a boyfriend. We broke up some time ago because he left Saint Denis for work. I have no idea of what he’s doing now.”

“Couldn’t you go with him?” asked Mary-Beth.

“And leave my family and my job? For him? No, he wasn’t worth it.”

“Didn’t you love him?”

“Well, yes, but not that kind of love that makes you leave everything to follow him.”

“Then it wasn’t love.”

Mary-Beth’s statement outraged Emily. Of course it was love. She had loved him. Or not? If that wasn’t love, what was?

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #mary-beth gaskill #tilly jackson #karen jones #javier escuella #Charles Smith

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