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skiyoosmi · 4 years

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if fate permits

chapter twenty

a taste of his own medicine

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“Hey… uhm… I’m sorry. I’m not sure where to start because I’ve been the worst friend to ya for the past weeks. But I want to start with an apology, I guess… yer probably tired of hearing it, right? … it’s something I’ll never gonna be proud of, my pettiness, I mean… but yeah… I’m sorry, YN. I hope ya believe me when I say yer impo–”

Beep! You sighed, ending yet another voicemail from Atsumu. It’s been almost a week since you and your brother moved out of the apartment and ever since the day after that, your soulmate has yet to cease dropping more than three voicemails every single day.

It wasn’t that you haven’t caught sight of him at school; in fact, you see him everywhere. It’s just so happens that you couldn’t help but avoid him like a plaque. You think he knows it though and you’re actually glad that he’s trying to respect your space (except for the endless ringing of your phone which only gets sent straight to voicemail every time, much like today). Which is why right now, you only stared at his contact, contemplating whether you will entertain his ‘apology.’ He sounds like he regrets it, after all and the fact that you only have less than 10 days before your flight wasn’t helping the situation.

“You know, if you keep having a soft heart like that, I’m betting a hundred bucks you won’t get too far once you become a famous writer. A lot of people will take advantage of you, you know. And don’t even get me started with those haters that disguise themselves as critiques,” Speaking of the devil, Kiyoomi suddenly spoke up, his figure leaning against the doorway of your room, much like the pose your father had when you were leaving your previous apartment.

Hundred bucks, you begin to think, where the hell would your jobless ass get a hundred bucks? You won’t tell him that verbally, of course; you value your life too much to even risk being strangled by your brother’s own hands.

“What do you mean soft heart? Where’d you even get the idea that I’m going to talk to him, doofus!? No way, he needs to learn his lesson,” You huffed, turning to him with an eyebrow raised, as if challenging him. He scoffed, entering your room, and sitting on your bed. You were kind of surprised he did given that your room was still messy as hell; but once again, you opted to keeping your mouth shut.

“It’s written all over your face, dear sister. Plus, you’ve said that a million times already I’m actually tired of hearing it now. After all these years, you think I don’t memorize every habit you have?” He replied, hands taking some of the clothes that were still stored in a brown carton and beginning to fold them neatly before standing up and putting it into your closet. He really does take after your father, from appearances to characteristics, “Your eyes, they speak to me the loudest, telling me every bit of your feelings. In fact, I’m kind of puzzled Atsumu never found out through them. But then again, it just supports the truth that he’s as dumb as he could get.”

This boy doesn’t really miss a chance to voice out his disfavor for your soulmate, huh? You wonder what is it that made him dislike… no, wait dislike was an underestimation… rather, loath Atsumu to the core. Bad first impression? No, your brother was not that petty. Did they have a fight you never knew about? If Atsumu and him ever fought, you were sure as hell you’d be the first one to know, seeing as your best friend practically whines and complains at you at every single thing in his life… so why?

“He hurt you and not just once. It’s not supposed to be my business but technically speaking, you are my sister before you were his soulmate and that’s all I needed to dislike him,” said Kiyoomi, continuing to fold your clothes as if what he said was practically nothing. Was he a mind-reader? You don’t know but perhaps, you could try to convince him to start up a fortune-telling business with you and earn millions.

“… You’re so creepy, ‘Yoomi,” You spoke up after a few moments of silence while he sneered, obviously not pleased with your comical reply, “Forget it! God, it’s so hard to have a serious talk with you.”

You only pursed your lips before bursting out into laughter, making him glare at you before his eyes softened. He hasn’t heard that pure laughter in a long time, after all. For some odd reason, he is proud that it was him that made you happy again like that, even for just a short while. After watching you work on something he doesn’t really know what, probably for the play, (it’s a relief you still have a smile on your face while you were on it though), he stands up, stopping by the doorway again when he heard you speak, “Thanks for being there, ‘Yoomi. Can’t imagine my life without my best brother.”

Kiyoomi knows he’s far from being the best brother in the world; he wasn’t expressive, sweet nor overprotective… but hearing those words from you means he’s at least good and somehow, he’s fine with that. He remains quiet before saying, “You know, your friend Hajime, I think he’s nice.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he knows that his words reached you; he didn’t miss the way you blushed, after all. He takes note of making you flustered more often.

Osamu grumbles under his breath in annoyance, clenching then unclenching his hands as he watched Yui cling onto his brother’s arm like there was no tomorrow. Doesn’t this girl have any decency left in her blood? They were in the public cafeteria of the university, good heavens! And they haven’t even officially became soulmates AND a couple.

The last thing he wanted on his agenda today was to become a third wheel, much less to his brother; and the fact that it’s not even with you, the true soulmate, his favorite Sakusa (he won’t let Kiyoomi know that though), and best drinking buddy, makes it more unbearable for the gray-haired lad. He could only scowl so hard at his twin, who on the other hand, remained unmoved. At least that’s what Osamu sees but unbeknownst to him, Atsumu just wishes he could go and find you as soon as possible.

He has had enough of you averting your gaze each time you catch each other’s eyes at the theater room. According to his brother, your flight is in ten days which means he only had a few more days to make your friendship right; to make it up to you and prove that you are, indeed, an important figure in his life (cue Osamu’s mocking last night when they talked: “HAH!? You sure do have a peculiar way of showing her that she’s important. You’re making me want to laugh and choke you at the same time.”)

“Oh! Iwaizumi-kun, Tooru and… Sakusa YN?” Yui trails off, making the blonde perk up at the sound of your name, turning his body quickly only to find you already looking back at them with… disappointed eyes? As quickly as it came, it disappeared and soon, you were smiling and waving at Osamu, completely ignoring your “best” friend. Atsumu can only stare at you in disbelief; never, not even once, had you disregarded his existence like that before. Even when you had small arguments, you made sure to acknowledge him with a simple nod.

In addition to your indifference, Hajime only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Yui’s greeting, as if he doesn’t know Yui at all, not even as an acquaintance. Hence, the three of you only proceeded to the table Makki, Mattsun and your brother saved for you.

“Eh? Iwaizumi… ignored me?” Yui frowned, obviously not used to being disregarded by the boy who used to give her a greeting every time they come across each other. As far as she could remember, they ended their bond in good terms, without anyone having to feel angry at the other so why is it that he acted that way? Did he hold a grudge after all?

Meanwhile, Atsumu gazed into nothing, your sad eyes flashing into his mind and staying there. Have you given up on him already? Did his nightmare that day actually came true? His trail of thoughts was cut off with Osamu’s voice speaking with amusement plastered on his face, “ooh, a taste of his own medicine, huh YN?”

He smirks, finding his brother’s suffering oddly satisfying. He too, like Kiyoomi, has his limits as to Atsumu’s undesired talent of hurting you (he knows the blonde was also suffering but you know, it just really gets on his nerves how blind his twin could get). So right after saying that, he stands up, picking up his tray that holds his food and beginning to walk where your table was.

“Samu! Where are you going?” The said lad looks back at his blonde twin weirdly before shrugging, “YN and Kiyoomi’s table, where else? You can’t expect me to stay on the table with you two, it’s weird.”

“So… you really can’t remember anything about your soulmate? Like who it is or something?” Oikawa asked, staring at Hajime’s hands, as if he’d be able to see anything on his pinky. Unfortunately for him, the ex-captain was not given the ability to be a Moira so he wouldn’t be able to see any changes no matter how long or hard he looks. The spiky-haired lad merely groans, feeling a headache coming due to his dear friend’s pestering, “Yes. I told you that already. I just woke up, saw my thread black and now, I can’t remember anything about who it is.”

“But you can remember us? It’s just the soulmate stuff you forgot?”

“Well, I’m talking to you right now, am I not, you dumbass?” Hajime snarled; an inch close to punching his best friend in the face. Beside him, you look down, feeling the sadness and heartbreak for him because even those feelings were lost the moment he woke up. If you let go of Atsumu, will this also happen to you? You can only give a pathetic laugh at your silly question; of course, it will. You weren’t some kind of special Moira that will be exempted from that ‘curse.’ But you wonder, how would he react? Would he be sad? Or would he just forget about you too and just throw everything you had away? It seems so easy for him to do that, after all.

Now that you witness what’s gonna happen upon cutting the thread, a part of you somehow wishes you should’ve just told him when it was still early, when you were still young and problem-free. Maybe he would’ve given you a promise like those in the movies wherein he says he would marry you once you get older. Maybe he would’ve been able to love you if you could’ve just given him a chance to do so. But it’s your fault, isn’t it? Because you were a coward; you were so greedy for true love that you can no longer have it, you think to yourself.

In the midst of your rather negative thoughts, a warm hand pulls you away from mentally beating up yourself further. Looking up, you find Hajime looking at you with soft eyes, as if assuring your heart that: “You’ll be fine. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe… just maybe, the universe has given you another chance for true love.

marga's notes. I HAVE FOUND A NEW HUSBAND AND HIS NAME'S BENIMARU SHINMON

taglist is closed

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #atsumu smau #iwaizumi smau #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons

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honorable-wanderings · 3 years

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Word of Honor - Episode 2 Part 2 - Mirror Lake has more Fire than expected

In an interesting twist of fate Zhou Zishu decides to take the nice munchkin up on his offer to crash at his place for a while.

Thumbs up my dood

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Now the fuck are these guys?

Oh cool. Thanks.

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See? Children chants are creepy! Always!

But especially when driven by plort! (plort was a typo but I’m Keeping it.)

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Finally people treating our man with common decency and respect! Who knew he just needed a fancy bookmark?

Oop. Nevermind

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I have discovered the joys of fucking with people and I’m never going back again

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A fuck this guy again. I’m assuming we’re not supposed to like him? But I don’t like him either way. He has no... je ne sais quoi

He boring. Basic. Bland.

It ain’t good.

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Oh and also you know how you wanted us to keep tabs on Zhou ZiShu? Oh well um.. it’s going great! Great! Yeah... except for... we can’t find him.

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Well if this ain’t a whole ass mood?

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Midnight already? Time for the pain pins to poke me painfully!

This sure is a weird version of Cinderella

gross

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Okay okay so normally the 7 torture nails block your chi? I’m understanding? So you can no longer do martial arts. And he would rather die than lose all his martial arts so he put the nails in slowly so that he could still have SOME of his martial arts. But the point of the nails is still that he wants to die and feels he deserves to be punished as well? Right? So having his martial arts helps mediate the pain which lessons the punishment

and if it weren’t for the punishment aspect couldn’t he have just like... faked the nails? Or would they have been able to tell? I mean this is all dramatic and all but where are your motivations Zhou ZiShu?

work with me here

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Hey?! That’s not sunlight?!?

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Love me a good silhouette shot

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And suddenly everything is on fire???

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Rude

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After watching like 4 people get killed in front of him and a lot of fire and ransacking our protragonists finally thinks perhaps he should get himself involved.

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How is everything a fucking boomerang???

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Pffffff I love it

Tunk thunk

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In another interesting development, the boat man from before is important?????

Also our boy is doing his best with that hat

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Okay I know he’s like a master of disguise and all but like he doesn’t seem to be doing much to actually... hide? Still love his wiggly sword style

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Um take the kid and fucking run maybe????

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*stalks you from a not very inconspicuous distance*

Didja miss me?

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Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go

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Fuck I hate being disarmed.

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This place looks strangely similar to the woodshed...

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The fuck are you?

Wouldn’t you like to know?

Yes I would. That’s why I asked

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There’s just nothing quite like a near death experience to bring people together.

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Take this kid and run!

But sir, you don’t seem to understand! I am the Best Boy! I simply cannot just leave you to die.

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Don’t worry kid! You can’t get in trouble anymore! Your dad is fuckin dead! Surely that’ll bring you some comfort!

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Random Local Boatman is surprisingly honorable and happens to be in debt to the father of the kid who was nice to you that morning.

Life sure is weird.

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He doing him best

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Though it is absolutely understandable, he reacts to being touched by that paper the way I react to walking into a spider web.

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Gramps is a badass

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I do have to say these guys do seem to be much better trained than the usual evil henchmen. And you have to appreciate their aesthetic.

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Seriously!! The best boy!!!!!

This man has helped in a little bit exactly once to repay him for his own kindness an this little teenager is willing to just die for him without hesitation.

Like no, son, the two old men are doing this so that YOU live. You have it backwards.

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Surpriiiiise I’m stalking you too!

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Oh no the henchmen are falling into the drawing things out to emotionally torture their prey thing. Don’t y’all know that giving the protagonist time to recover and/or study your moves is how you die? Did you even GO to henchman school?

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ahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Just.. omg. The noise he made. “Dwaaah!!!”

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Okay kid I know you’re young and under a lot of stress and never really got into the whole martial arts training thing but grandpa is doing better than you literally laying down and covered in cuts. Just sayin

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Aw nuts

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*ding*

Please take your protagonist out of the oven as cooktime has been completed.

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The fighting editing style seems to be a weird splice of nice crisp slowmotion view of the action and spliced together jump cuts and zooms that make for an odd kinda hard to follow combination. But at least I guess they tend to end on ‘cool pose x”

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“Hey, Beggar! You’re good at martial arts. Somehow this surprises me even though I already knew that???”

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Unexpected trust fall ends better than anticipated

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Das gaee

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He’s bendin’ over backwards for you!!

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Unexpected but definitely varied emotional investments on the fact that Gramps is dying.

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Look at him being all humble.

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Ooh he could be in a medical drama. That is the perfect like sad close your eyes and head shake no I’m sorry he’s not gonna make it. Bravo.

Very delicate.

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“Don’t fuckin’ touch me”

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I’m guilt tripping you into a found family and you’re gonna like it punk

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Sick dude, whats your name? Shit no one’s asked me that before somehow I’m not ready..

Uh.uh... Zhou Xu.

Nailed it.

“Zhou Xu? Naw that doesn’t sound right.”

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May you learn from this never to underestimate, rob, and otherwise harass your local old boat man for you never know when he may force you through guilt and honor into taking on a ward and a quest under penalty of being haunted by his old ass ghost forever

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Uncle Li has died and most of the group is much more upset about it than they would have anticipated that morning.

Poor ChenLing is having a rough day.

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RIP Uncle Li. So much for living a carefree couple of years lying drunk in the sun.

It looks like even now you can’t escape your responsibilities Zhou Xu.

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Group of hereto-unknown men arrive in poor time to stop the bonfire

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“What’s wrong?” Um... maybe... fire??

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I say again, thank you for labeling the people I’m supposed to remember.

Also, why did y’all have to wait for orders before checking out the fuckin boats?

Y’all dumb.

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Hey, Wen KeXing, Not trying to throw off your groove or anything but maybe a funeral isn’t the best time for flirting? Perhaps? Maybe?

I know you don’t have an ‘off’ switch but maybe a pause button?

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“are you done?”

“Never.”

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It deadass took y’all this long to introduce yourself? You’ve been stalking him all this time and you never thought to go “btw my name Wen KeXing? Comment t’appelles tu?” Come on man

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Our best boy is having his not best day. D:

Don’t worry. Your new family will stalk/care for you.

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“A-Xiang! Make some food!” “No shit Sherlock I already did.” “My ideas are the best. :D”

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Eat your food!

Eat your food!!

Eat your FOOD!!!

EAT YOUR FOOD!!!!

WILL SOMEONE PLEASE EAT YOUR GODDAMN FOOD?

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“Oh my GOD we get it you can fucking read! Oh my god.”

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If I prove I can read too will you pass me a damn pancake?

Fuck yeah.

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GOD DAMN IT SOMEONE EAT FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK

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Um excuse you this group only has room for one little bitch and it ain’t fuckin you, you hear me little girl?

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I am very sorry. Thank you for saving my life. I would like to re-assert my status as “best boy”.

HEY WHAT THE FUCK????

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Wen KeXing: 👀

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Please increase your friendship level before asking personal questions.

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Nya Nya you were useless when your home was burned to the ground and your family was killed waaaaah how pathetic are you!!

Can you fucking not?

My B.

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BEST BOY INJURED THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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Our Man Zhou ZiShu respects bodily autonomy!

Do not touch my fuckin’ boy or I will fight you!

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And we end the episode with Wen KeXing being horny on main!

Sir, keep it together. There are children present.

#Word of honor #Shanhe Ling #zhou zishu #Wen Kexing #zhang chengling #Gu Xiang #Writing WoH #spoilers #Episode 2

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starlettelaced · 3 years

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listen, i’m so tired of the trope of the jerk, asshole, douche falling for the nice, smart, lovely girl. it has to stop. because why the fuck are we romanticizing the idea of nice people being thrown in the lives of toxic people. i don’t care if “that’s life.” If we are out here constantly advocating for changes in beauty standards and everything about women’s lives, then i’m calling this out. because we can’t be out here talking about how it’s stupid to teach girls that “boys are mean to you because they like you” and then we continue to see these tropes in film and television and media! I am sick of that! stop telling nice people that they deserve a reality check. we need to stop romanticizing those tropes. nice people deserve nice people. nice people aren’t a lesson to learn from. they’re real, human, feeling and deserving people. we need to stop using them in media. stop using women to teach men over and over and over again in every capacity! I want to see women fall for people who care about them, and love them and respect them. Who see them for who they are- not for their sweeetness or how polite and soft they are. I’m tired of being told that all I can be is soft and sweet in the eyes of media and STILL i’ll be fucked over by some asshole male. That it’s almost my purpose!! To be this sweet, fluffy memory- the “one that got away” in the memory of the asshole guy who *surprise surprise!* didn’t change and instead uses women as a ping-pong board of toxicity because he’s unable to see past his own self-hatred!

No. I want to be a person- I want to be able to be nice AND SOMEONE. Nice isn’t a personality trait. It’s human fucking decency. Calling a character a “nice girl” is literally giving us NOTHING. Is nice all someone is?? Is nice an entire personality? Like what the fuck? Nice people aren’t allowed to be real, human, feeling individuals? They’re just NICE, and there to be fucked over and make the asshole main male character feel bad about being an asshole main male character?

Shut up!! I hate that so much. If the asshole guy gets to be “more than an asshole” after “opening himself up” thanks to the sweetness of the nice girl character, then the nice girl better be getting the space to be “more than a nice girl” too.

I just hate seeing this. We romanticize toxicity and then we feel hurt when we fall into real life relationships like that. toxicity isn’t cute. people don’t change. and it’s absolutely NO ONE’S job to change ANYONE (unless you know, you’re a therapist being paid by the very person to). the nice girl deserves the good guy. and we tell her that when the toxic relationship is over. and then she believes it and works on herself and the toxic guy is surprised when he finds out later that she was so much more than he saw? what the fuck dude. men can truly be the most selfish, egotistical people on the planet. and the media is out here telling us that as women, we are just a vehicle for men’s growth. I am SICK OF THAT.

#women #the only good man is jamie fraser #emily in paris is making me sick

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littlestarofthewest · 5 years

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Gahd I love your kinky fics!! Pls can u do one with a younger femreader & arthur? Like they like each other but she's younger so he's hesitant to start but then just shows her how a man his age gets it done *wink wink* I'm not into the daddykink but I do like an age gap haha I know youve just done creampie (it was so daamn good!!) but pls pls creampie & dirty talk 🤤 how Javier opened her up....I can imagine Arthur loving that 😂 ps. Honestly best fics out there! ♥️ Thanks for the prompts again!

Thank you for all the love, dear

Also dedicating this to @emily-strange who had a very similar request (you two should talk xD). Sorry I kept you waiting for so long (since freaking December).

Title: Young Love | Word Count: 9352 | Rating: Explicit!!! (18+)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan & female reader | Tags: angst and fluff and smut

Arthur has no idea what it is that makes you so different. Back when he and John rescued you, you were just a young girl that needed help, and by now, he wishes he would still feel about you this way.

For months, Arthur tried to treat you like Mary-Beth or Tilly, a young girl that could very well be his sister. It’s just that you make it so hard for him. You’re not naive and silly like some 19-year-olds Arthur met, and although you’re more on the shy side, you still have a way of teasing him with winks and smiles that shouldn’t affect him as much as they do.

In the beginning, Arthur fell headfirst into your trap. He rescued you, after all, so you tended to stick to him, and Arthur let you. You were easy to talk to, with a hunger for knowledge and a good sense of humor, not easily offended when he spoke out of tune.

When it became clear that you would stay with the gang, Arthur and John taught you how to shoot, and you went on hunts with Charles. After a while, Hosea also allowed you to take part in little heists, Arthur always by your side to make sure you were safe.

It started then that he began to see you in a different light. You were smart and cunning, using your innocence to lure people in. Men, in particular, are unable to withstand your shy smile, and Arthur found himself to be one of them.

It’s not that you used it against him, but whenever you asked something of him, there was no way for him to say no. Soon, Hosea found bigger jobs for the two of you, calling you a great team. You ended up on the road a lot, often just the two of you.

Arthur did his best to act respectively, but you seemed so comfortable around him that you sometimes didn’t care much about decency. He got to see more of your long legs and your cleavage than was good for him, and you had no trouble touching him or sleeping closeby when sharing a tent.

Slowly but surely, Arthur got more and more enticed by you, and it got so bad that he dreamt about you in ways that were anything but decent. Soon, those dreams and reality blurred together, and Arthur found himself staring at you at the worst of times, imagining all kinds of inappropriate things.

Today, Arthur would give anything to not be in camp. It’s your 20th birthday, and since it’s your first one since you’ve joined the gang, Dutch announced a little celebration. Arthur gave you his present, a new hunting knife, early in the morning, and ever since then, he tried to stay away from you.

Now, Arthur‘s sitting on a log farthest away from the fire, nursing a beer in his hand. The others are going to town with whiskey and rum, the alcohol taking its toll. Karen is sitting on Sean’s lap, the two of them the loudest but not the best at singing along to the songs Javier plays.

Once in a while, Uncle chimes in with the banjo, causing some laughs. Soon, most of the gang is drunk enough to dance around the fire. John and Abigail do a surprisingly decent job, not arguing for a change, while Lenny tortures your feet.

Arthur can tell that you’re soldiering on, but while Lenny is kind and wicked smart, he’s still not the most skilled when it comes to dancing. When Hosea gets up from his seat, Arthur hopes that he might release you, and he actually claps Lenny’s shoulder.

“My dear boy, I fear you need some more practice before we can let you dance with the ladies.“

Everybody laughs, and you give Lenny an apologetic smile, but he just shrugs, not taking offense. Arthur’s sure Hosea will take over now, showing Lenny how to do a better job, but instead, he turns around.

“This lady deserves a decent birthday dance,“ Hosea says. "Arthur? Would you be so kind?“

All eyes dart to Arthur, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He loves Hosea with all his heart, but sometimes he would like to smack him.

"Arthur can’t dance,“ Sean blurts out, saying out loud what everybody else must be thinking.

Dutch laughs at the heartfelt announcement. "No see, there’s a big difference between not being able to do something and deliberately denying the world your gift.“

Arthur shakes his head, ready to disappoint both Hosea and Dutch, but then Hosea points at you. "Come on, you can’t say no to a birthday dance with this lovely young lady.“

That’s exactly the problem. You’re young, way too young for Arthur, and he can’t say no to you, not ever. Looking into your curious face, Arthur puts down the bottle and gets to his feet. Hosea pats his shoulder, and Dutch applauds as if they already watched a great show.

"Now watch and learn, gentlemen,“ he cheers.

Arthur does his best to ignore everybody else, his eyes focused on you. A tingling feeling rushes through his body the second he takes your hand, and he leads you away from the fire to have more room. Besides, it will be easier to talk to you without the others hearing what he says.

"I’ll have to put my hand on your back,“ Arthur warns you, wishing he could say something that would turn you away, but you just smile at him.

"It’s alright, Arthur,“ you say, amusement in your voice, "I know how dancing works.“

Arthur swallows hard when he puts his hand in place on the small of your back. You rest your hand on his shoulder, and just like so many times before, you have no problem with being near him. Taking a step forward, you close the gap between Arthur and you, and he feels like dying when your body presses warm against his own.

Counting in a whisper, Arthur tries to give you an idea when to start, and then you’re off. Although Arthur hasn’t danced in years, it all comes back to him now. Just like shooting a gun, it’s something you do without thinking. Lead by Arthur, you have no trouble following along, and some of the gang members even whistle and cheer.

By the time the song is over, Arthur has a hard time letting you go. Still pressed against him, your chest rises and falls with the exhausted breaths you take, your face flushed, and your hair a little looser and out of place from being swirled around. You look as if you and Arthur did something way more indecent than dancing, the picture searing itself into Arthur’s brain.

To make the torture complete, you smile at him as if he just hung the moon, going on tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Arthur.”

There’s clapping from around the campfire before Dutch and Hosea take turns telling stories about heists where their dancing skills were essential. When Arthur is sure that nobody focuses on him anymore, he takes the chance to sneak away, heading into the nearby woods.

On the first day at the new campsite, Arthur found a hidden arch in between two big trees that leads to a small meadow. He leans against a tree with closed eyes, filling his lungs with fresh evening air, trying his best not to think about the dance. Of course, he ends up thinking just about that, and especially about how you looked afterward.

“Arthur?"

Your voice draws Arthur out of his daydream. It’s not you in his imagination, but you’re really in front of him. "What?”

“I’m sorry,” you say in that timid voice you use when you think you did something wrong, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s alright.” Arthur pushes himself off of the tree. “Just didn’t think anybody knew of this place.”

“I found it a day after we made camp,” you say, twisting the fabric of your skirt with your fingers.

Arthur knows that it’s a habit of you that only shows when you’re nervous. He’s not used to seeing it when the two of you are alone.

“Is there something you need?” he asks, thinking that you might have some sort of problem.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say, still fidgeting with your skirt. “I know you’ve already given me a great present, but there’s something else I wish for, and you’re the only one I want to ask for it.”

Arthur’s heart pounds faster. It’s as if you know that he won’t be able to say no, and since you’re asking him in the middle of the woods, it’s probably something more than just a request for more shooting lessons. Still, Arthur can’t help himself. It’s you, after all, so he has to ask. “What is it?”

“In Mary-Beth’s novels, people always have these great kisses, but all the boys I’ve met were just-” You don’t finish the sentence, but Arthur has been a 19-year-old boy himself. They often aren’t that great with romance and tenderness.

You take a step towards Arthur, making his heart almost leap out of his chest. “I’m 20 years old now,” you continue with a sigh, looking up at him. “All I want is one real kiss. With a real man. Like you.”

Arthur can tell how hard it is for you to say this, your voice getting quieter with every word while the blood rushing through his veins becomes so loud that he can hardly hear you. Still, you manage to hold his gaze when he’s looking for words.

“Those are just books, ya know?” Arthur says.

It’s the wrong thing to say. You shrink like fruit in the hot sun, all hope draining from your face to be replaced by sadness. Arthur hates to see you like this, especially when he’s the reason for it. But what else can he say? It’s not his place to give you any kisses. The way he thinks about you is already shameful enough.

“You’re right,” you finally say, your voice near tears. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have asked.”

You turn around, and Arthur’s heart stands still. He failed you. After promising to protect you, he hurt you more than anybody else. And why? Because of stupid rules. It’s not like you’re asking for something terrible. Just a kiss. Just a favor from a friend.

“Wait,” Arthur says, the word barely more than a whisper.

You turn back around, and Arthur takes your hand, tugging just enough to have you come back to him. You look up to him, waiting for an explanation, but he knows he doesn’t have the words for this. Instead, Arthur cups your face with his hand, pulling you closer.

He feels like he’s drowning in your eyes, unable to stop now, so he leans in to close the gap between you. Arthur can hear you taking a shaky breath, his own chest feeling like it’s about to burst. He’s never considered himself a great kisser, but he tries to be gentle with you, knowing all too well what novels you’ve been reading.

At first, your lips barely touch, Arthur still giving you a chance to stop. Instead, you lean into it. Arthur puts his hand onto the small of your back the same way he did during the dance, drawing you in before pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Your hands come to rest against his chest, sending waves of heat through his body.

Arthur knows that this should be it. You got your kiss after all, but something deep in his soul keeps him in place. It kept screaming and clawing at him for months, telling him how much he wanted to be with you. You mentioning other boys kissing you awakened a horrible ache in Arthur, raging like a fire that consumes him.

Despite telling himself over and over that he can’t be with you, Arthur longs to have so much more with you. The thought that someone could take you away is killing him, forcing him to hold on to you.

Arthur teases your lip with his tongue, and you eagerly open up for him, giving him a sweet taste of what could be. His hand runs down from your face along your neck, touching soft, warm skin before it ventures deeper. Arthur caresses your side, his fingers trailing along the curve of your breast and down to your hip.

With his other hand moving down to the swell of your ass, Arthur pulls you even closer, deepening the kiss. Your hot tongue brushes against his own, the sensation so overwhelming that everything around the two of you blurs.

Arthur gets lost in your kisses, the warmth of your body, your scent, and all the promises your body makes, pressed against him like a second skin. His fingers claw into the flesh on your hips as he rubs himself against you, lust tightening his pants.

You let out a soft moan, and from one second to the next, the world shifts back into focus. Searing pain shoots through Arthur’s body as if hit by lightning. This isn’t one of his fantasies where he’s allowed to be with you. It’s real, and it’s you. A girl who deserves so much better than him.

Arthur steps away from you in a hurry, his tone harsh as he barks at you. “Go back to camp!”

You take a step toward him, reaching out. “But Arthur-”

“Goddamn, girl! Go back to camp, right now!”

Arthur’s never thought that he’d be able to even raise his voice when talking to you, but now he shouts, making you freeze on the spot. You stare at him for a few seconds before you finally come to your senses. You turn around and rush through the trees, running from him like a startled deer.

With a growl, Arthur turns around, punching his fist against the nearest tree at full force. He’d hoped the pain would drive out the thoughts about you, but even with his knuckles bleeding, it’s not enough. Memories rush into his mind, of you looking at him, talking to him, touching him.

Arthur remembers the dance with every detail, and even worse, the kiss you just shared. Usually, it’s a gift to see something and be able to draw it right from his memory, but now it becomes a curse. He’ll never forget the taste of your lips, the way you held on to him, how your body melted against his. In dark, lonely nights, he’ll remember that enticing sound you made when he pushed himself against you.

You didn’t shy away from his touches, and Arthur realizes with horror that you might have let him do even more. You asked him for a kiss, but that’s rarely where the stories end. Maybe, you would have wanted more. Maybe, you would have allowed him to have you, right then and there, on the forest floor.

With a grunt, Arthur frees himself from his pants, stroking his cock so hard that it’s more painful than pleasurable. The thoughts consume him, the memories of you so vivid as if you were still there.

It doesn’t take Arthur long to reach his peak, his cock throbbing, hot spurs of come shooting against the bark of the tree in front of him. Tucking himself away, Arthur watches as it trickles down. Out of control as he is, he could have done such horrible things to you.

Consumed by shame, Arthur walks back through the trees, a plan forming in his mind. If he wants to protect you, he can’t be near you until he’s ingrained it in himself that he can never have you. Arthur has to go - far away.

——–

You have a hard time focusing on your work, looking up again and again to sneak a peek at Arthur across camp. If you keep going like that, the water will be ice cold until you’re done washing all the clothes, and Miss Grimshaw will have your head. Still, you can’t keep yourself from doing it, almost like you need to have your fill of Arthur before he disappears again.

With a sigh, you remember the time after your kiss. In the morning, Arthur was gone, only Hosea knowing where he went. He didn’t come back for four weeks, and when he did, he avoided you at all costs. You barely got to see Arthur at all for about three months after that. He either was in his tent or out of camp altogether.

Over the last month, Arthur stayed more often and didn’t leave the second you showed up. You at least got a “good morning” out of him every day, and once in a while, you had brief conversations about the weather or the latest successful jobs of the other gang members.

You feel like it still might take quite some time before things could go back to normal, if at all. You don’t blame Arthur, though. You risked your friendship over a stupid crush, using his kindness to trick him into getting what you wanted.

Of course, you should have known that Arthur didn’t feel the same way as you. To him, you must be nothing but a stupid little girl that needs constant supervision and help. You asked Arthur for a real kiss from a real man, ignoring that you didn’t even come close to being a real woman.

After all this time, you still can’t forget how Arthur kissed you, giving you all that you wanted while you had nothing to offer in return. All you could do now is to apologize and beg Arthur for forgiveness.

With another sigh, you go back to scrubbing the laundry. When you carry the basket with the wet clothes through camp to hang them up to dry, Hosea and Arthur walk past you. You give them a quick nod, keeping up appearances for Hosea’s sake. Arthur looks up, and it’s the first time that you get to hold eye contact with him for more than a second.

“Mylady,” he says, his voice soft.

The two men keep walking without pause, but you almost trip, your heart pounding. It’s been so long that Arthur had a kind word for you, but the familiar greeting brings you right back into the time before the kiss when everything was alright.

Your eyes fill with tears, and you do your best to quickly blink them away, but when you begin to hang up the clothes, Mary-Beth walks over to you.

“Are you alright?” she asks, leaning over to get a better look at your face.

“Sure,” you answer, focusing on the laundry.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Mary-Beth looking over to Arthur. “I didn’t mean to say anything. After all, it’s your business if you get along with Arthur, but this? If he makes you cry in the middle of camp, I’ll have a word with him. I mean it.”

You’ve never seen Mary-Beth talking so fiercely, and usually, she adores Arthur. That she would pick a fight with him over you makes your heart melt.

“It’s not him, it’s me,” you explain. “I did something foolish, and Arthur is right to be angry at me. I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but please don’t say anything to him.”

“But the crying,” Mary-Beth insists.

“Happy tears,” you say, giving her a big smile. “I think it’s going to be alright again.”

Mary-Beth looks back and forth between you and Arthur before pulling out a handkerchief and giving it to you. “Fine. But if there’s anything you need, please tell me.”

“I will. Thank you, Mary-Beth. You’re the best.”

She blushes a little and finally walks away, giving you another chance to look over to Arthur. You almost get caught when he and Hosea come your way.

“Can we have a word?” Hosea asks you with a smile, and you almost drop the shirt you’re holding.

You can’t believe that Arthur would tell Hosea about the kiss, but you can’t think of anything else they would want to talk about. “Sure,” you say, your fingers playing with the wet fabric in your hand while your heart pounds so hard that you wonder if they can hear it.

“I’ve got some information about a rich couple that moved from the city into a cabin up north. Really secluded, good spot if you know how to live off the land,” Hosea explains, giving you a chance to breathe again. It’s about a job. Nothing more.

“And they know how to do that?” you ask.

Hosea smiles. “Not from what I hear. I want Arthur and you to go up there and check it out. You might be able to charm them, offer your help. Maybe you can find out if they still got more riches left in the city.”

“Or we could just rob them,” Arthur says, his voice barely audible, but Hosea nudges his elbow into Arthur’s side.

“Don’t act like the brute, Arthur. We both know you’re much more than that.”

You know that to be true, but Arthur just grunts as if he doubts Hosea’s words. You wish you could tell him otherwise, but you don’t even dare to look at him.

Hosea takes a piece of paper out of his jacket and hands it to Arthur. “That’s the place.”

Arthur studies what looks like a hand-drawn map while rubbing his beard. “I say we head out right now. If we make camp when it gets dark, we should be able to reach the cabin tomorrow by noon.”

You wait for Hosea to answer, but when he stays silent, you look up to find the two men looking at you, and you realize Arthur’s talking to you, not Hosea.

“Oh, sure,” you hurry to say, “just let me finish up here, and I’ll get my things.”

“Great,” Hosea says, “glad to have the two of you on this. I was worried I’d have to send Bill.”

He winks at you and walks away, leaving you alone with Arthur. You rack your brain what to say, but Arthur beats you to it. “I was kinda planning on wearing that again.”

You stare at him, drowning in his eyes until he nods to your hands. You’ve been wringing the shirt between your fingers, only now seeing that it’s one of Arthur’s. “Oh, of course. I just-"

You turn around on the spot, hastily going back to work. "I’ll meet you at the horses,” Arthur says behind you. His voice is warm, flowing down your back like a sweet caress. It tightens your chest how much you missed him talking to you.

“I’ll be just a minute,” you manage to say, only able to catch your breath once you hear Arthur walking away.

After finishing the laundry, you pack what you’ll need for the trip and say goodbye to the other girls. Mary-Beth gives you a wary look when she hears that you’re riding out with Arthur, but you give her a big smile to reassure her that you’re alright.

Not that you are. On the one hand, you’re looking forward to working with Arthur again, and the trip might finally give you a chance to apologize, but on the other hand, you’re nervous as hell. It’s been so long since you’ve been alone with Arthur, and he might still be angry with you.

With your heart almost beating out of your chest, you walk over to Arthur. He already saddled up your horse, checking if everything is in place on his own mare.

“Hey,” you say, trying to make him aware of you.

“You ready?” he asks, not looking up from what he’s doing.

“Yes, I am,” you say, and when he stays silent, you feel the need to keep him engaged. “Where are we even going?”

Finally, Arthur looks at you before handing you the map Hosea gave him. When you reach for the paper, your fingers brush over Arthur’s skin. It’s warm and so weirdly familiar that this brief touch tightens your chest again while Arthur gets back to his work.

You stare at the map, trying hard to level your breathing without Arthur noticing. Finally, Arthur pulls himself up on his horse. “Ready to go?” he asks, and you quickly climb onto your mare.

As you head out on the narrow path, you hold the map out to Arthur. He takes it back, his fingertips trailing over your skin this time. Arthur doesn’t react at all, but your body fills with heat, brought on by the memories that have been haunting you for months.

Your horse keeps pace with Arthur’s while your mind drifts off, remembering how everything started. At first, you were just thankful for Arthur saving you. Even in your short life, you had to learn that there were evil people in the world, especially men when faced with a young girl. Arthur was nothing like that.

Despite his own claims to the contrary, you can’t bring yourself to think of him as bad. He might be robbing people, but he doesn’t lay a finger on them. Just like he always respected you. At first, you thought of him as a good friend, a little bitter or sarcastic at times, but also funny, kind, and awfully sweet if he wanted to be.

Your feelings for him changed one day when Arthur helped you down from one of the wagons when the gang was moving camp. He waved at you with outstretched arms before lifting you down. You held on to his broad shoulders while his large hands closed warm around your waist. He set you down on the ground and smiled, having your heart pounding like crazy.

Maybe you’ve read too many of Mary-Beth’s books, hoping for so much more than there was, but everything changed after this moment. You found yourself staring at Arthur at all times, and somehow he turned from a friend to a man. You were always aware of his body and his voice, your body reacting to him in ways that often took your breath away.

After a while, you found yourself wanting more, and when Hosea sent you on all these jobs together, you even tried to seduce Arthur. Not that you had much experience on how to do that, but usually, a little naked skin and closeness does the trick for most men. Arthur didn’t react at all, not even when sleeping with you in the same tent, making you want him even more.

And then there was your birthday. The dance put a final nail into your coffin. There was something about the way Arthur held you, how he effortlessly made you follow him, and twirled you around. You wanted for him to do more, to take you like those confident men who swept the women off their feet in the books.

Arthur disappearing into the trees was a siren’s call to you, and when he walked to that secluded meadow, it seemed like fate. This could have been your fairytale, so you put up all your courage, offering yourself to him. You imagined it many times, but then Arthur kissed you in a way that was beyond your wildest dreams. You asked for a real kiss but never thought that it could be that good.

Despite Arthur’s anger, you still can’t fully regret what you did. Now that Arthur showed you how he feels, you have to make your peace knowing that you’ll never be with him. But no matter if you die alone or find another man, you’ll at least have the memory of one perfect kiss.

“Are you hearing me?”

Arthur’s voice only slowly reaches your ears, stopping you from wallowing in your memories. “What?”

“Let’s head for the saloon over there. They might have rooms.”

You stare in the direction of his outstretched hand, your mind racing. You planned to apologize to Arthur once you made camp, in the silence of the night. You won’t have a chance for that in a noisy saloon.

“But it’s still early,” you say. “We can make a few more miles until dusk.”

Arthur’s already steering his horse off the road. “We don’t have to. We already made more than half of the way. You’re better off with a real meal and a bed to sleep in.”

You bite your lip, hating that Arthur messes up your plan by looking out for you. It’s infuriating and sweet at the same time, the embodiment of Arthur.

After hitching your horses outside, you venture into the saloon. For such a secluded place, it has quite the amount of customers, even more so considering the early hour. You walk to the bar with Arthur, where he orders two whiskeys, but before you’re able to drink, he suddenly taps your shoulder. “Excuse me for a second. I know these men over there.”

He walks over to a table where a bunch of rowdy fellers play poker, leaving you with a burning sensation where he touched you. You make up for it by downing one of the two glasses in one go, contemplating to drink the other, too.

“Now, who would let a sweet girl like you drink alone?”

The high pitched voice behind you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve had men talk to you like this many times, but it hasn’t happened since you’ve joined the gang. When you were out, you always had someone like Arthur or Charles with you who kept idiots at bay without even trying.

“I’m not alone,” you say, trying to spot Arthur, but you’re suddenly surrounded by four men.

The one who spoke to you before comes closer, putting an arm up on the bar to box you in. “I don’t see nobody.”

“My husband will be back any second,” you say, hating how weak your voice sounds.

The man gives you a wide grin, presenting his half-rotten teeth. “He’s not here now, missy. Only you and us.”

He trails his fingers over your hand, and you react without thinking. Using the element of surprise, you duck below his arm, sidestepping another guy before he can grab you. Basically flying through the room, you reach Arthur, immediately clinging to his arm.

Both Arthur and the men at the table are staring at you in surprise, but nothing in this world could make you let go off Arthur now. “I missed you at the bar,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice is shaking a little.

Arthur takes a look at them, and his eyes narrow, a wild look appearing in them while you can see the muscles of his jaw clenching. He reaches into his pocket before turning back to the men at the table. “Anyway, I just wanted to pay back what I owe,” he says, handing a few dollars to one of the men, “no hard feelings, right?”

The man counts the money, a smile coming onto his face. “Of course, no hard feelings,” he says, sharing the money with the other men.

“Have a good day, gentlemen,” Arthur says, tipping his head.

As Arthur turns, he pries your hand away from his arm, prompting you to protest, but then he puts his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip as you walk back to the bar. Arthur orders more drinks and keeps standing so close that you can feel his body against yours.

“So that’s your husband, missy?” the man with the high voice asks from the other end of the bar, letting your blood run cold. You forgot to mention that little detail to Arthur.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asks, an edge to his voice that you know. It never ends well for the person he’s talking to.

The man sneers at him. “I’m talking to her.”

“You don’t talk to my wife,” Arthur says, the words making you shiver. Then he steps in front of you, shielding you from view with his whole body.

The two men stare at each other in silence, and you know that something terrible is about to happen. The man moves his arm, there’s a loud bang, and then he falls backward, blood trickling down his forehead. All eyes are on him as he collides with the floor, his gun slipping out of his hand.

Deep down, you seem to relive every lesson about shooting a gun that Arthur and John have given you. You step around Arthur, pulling his second gun out of its holster and pointing it right at the man’s face nearest to you. He stares down the barrel with wide eyes while Arthur trains his gun on one of the others. You know you’re outnumbered, but you won’t go down without a fight, and everybody in the saloon just saw that Arthur might be quicker than them.

The men look back and forth between you and Arthur, contemplating if they can take you. Before it can come to that, the poker players get to their feet, taking position behind you and Arthur. The man who took Arthur’s money rests his hand on his gun.

“The way I see it, your friend here was outta line. That’s really no way to talk to a married woman.” He looks around, and the other men in the saloon give small nods to agree with him. “I suggest you take him out of here and be on your way. We wanna play in peace, you understand?”

The men don’t move until Arthur slowly lowers his gun. You follow his lead, and the man in front of you steps back. They put their guns away to pick up the body and quickly make their way outside.

“Thank you,” Arthur says to the poker players, and the man who spoke just shrugs.

“Never liked those fellers anyway. You fancy a game?”

“No, we’ll better be on our way.”

“Suit yourself.”

The men go back to their game while Arthur puts his hand on your back, leading you outside. He unties the horses, constantly looking around.

“Why are we going?” you say, your heart still pounding from what just happened. “Wouldn’t we be safer with these guys?”

“These guys are only friendly for a prize,” Arthur says. “And the men who left was O'Driscolls. I bet they’ll be back in numbers. We don’t want to be here when that happens.”

Arthur gets on his horse and holds out his hand to you. “Come on.”

“I have my own horse.”

“I won’t let you ride alone when those guys might come up behind us.”

Arthur just shot a guy because he didn’t like the way he talked to you. It’s probably useless to argue with him now. You take his hand, and he lifts you up with ease. “Hold on,” he says, and you happily reach around his waist, pressing yourself against his back.

Arthur spurs on his horse, quickly bringing it into a gallop, barely giving you time to whistle for your own horse to follow. You ride hard until the sun begins to go down. Arthur checks both sides of the road to find a good spot for camp, and you end up on a hilltop. A few large boulders shield you from view while the higher ground lets you see for miles in any direction. There’s no chance that anybody could sneak up on you here.

You get a fire going, and Arthur sets up a tent while you try to make a decent meal out of the provisions you brought along. When Arthur is done, he sits down on his bedroll, and you hand him a steaming bowl.

“It’s not the decent meal you were talking about earlier,” you say, feeling guilty that Arthur’s plans got all messed up because of you.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Arthur says, bringing the bowl closer to smell its content. “I remember the great meals you used to make on our last jobs.”

You almost joke about that being a wife’s job, but while Arthur backed up your lie in the saloon, he might not find it funny. Instead, you eat your food in silence. When Arthur’s finished, he takes out his journal and writes, leaving you to stare into the fire. Everything is so nice and peaceful, you’re not quite sure if you should apologize to Arthur at all. What if that only rips open old wounds?

Sneaking a look at Arthur, you can see the difference in how he moves his pencil. He’s no longer writing but draws something. You tell yourself that it’s none of your business, but you’ve always loved Arthur’s art, and you are one of the few people he sometimes shows it to. Hoping that this might be something you can talk about, you crawl over to Arthur.

“What are you drawing?”

Arthur puts the pages together for a moment, looking like he’s embarrassed, but then he opens the journal and hands it to you. The drawing shows a campfire with a woman sitting in front of it, staring into the flames. You.

“You’re so good at this,” you say, your eyes fixed on the page.

“Good at something useless,” Arthur grunts.

You have to disagree. It’s still a mystery to you how someone can capture life and emotions with a pencil and paper. The woman in the drawing looks lost, though. You won’t be able to just forget what happened, you have to talk to Arthur.

Putting down the journal, you take a deep breath. “Arthur, I’m sorry.”

He studies your face for a long moment, deep in thought. “Sorry for what?”

“The kiss,” you blurt out before you lose your courage. “You’ve always been such a good friend, and I took advantage of that. I asked you because I knew that you wouldn’t say no. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Arthur says, and you feel like hitting him for taking any of the blame.

“You were right to be angry. I should have known that you’d never feel the same way about me.”

Arthur takes a deep breath as if it’s hard for him to say the following words. “If you was a little older, or I was a bit younger-”

Arthur trails off, but your heart is already pounding. You thought that Arthur doesn’t feel anything for you, but here he is, drawing your picture and worrying about your age, not angry about the kiss at all.

“I thought you didn’t like me, Arthur.”

“Jesus, girl,” Arthur huffs, almost amused, “of course I like you. You’re right out perfect. It just doesn’t matter what I feel. It’s just not right.”

“It matters to me,” you say, your voice breathless as hope blooms in your heart, “I don’t care about the age difference.”

Arthur’s lost for words for a moment, but then he shrugs. “It’s not just that. You deserve way better than me.”

Usually, you’re not one to get your way. You accept what others tell you and move on, putting their wishes above yours. This can’t be one of those times. It’s too important, and you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try everything to be happy.

“I might be young, but I’m not naive or stupid. I know that you’re not perfect, but neither are the ranchers who hurt their cattle or the merchants who draw up the prices when the poor can barely pay them,” you say, talking yourself into a frenzy. “Unlike those fancy dressed crooks in the big city, you are so much more.”

Arthur lifts his hand as if to interrupt you, but for once, you don’t let him, continuing your tirade. “I fell in love with you because you’re kind, funny, and caring. You’re not lining your own pockets, but do whatever you have to to help your family and even strangers. You don’t take pleasure from cruelty, but manage to ease other people’s misery and pain. You’re a good person, Arthur. I really don’t see how I could possibly do better.”

Staring at you out of big eyes, Arthur opens his mouth, but nothing comes out until he clears his throat, his voice still hoarse when he speaks. “In love?”

It’s unnerving that this is the one thing Arthur took from this, but you said it, and there’s no point in denying it. “Yes, I love you, Arthur,“ you say, shrugging your shoulders. "I’m old enough to know that I want to be with you. Not a better or younger version of you, but you just the way you are.“

Arthur drops his head, his eyes fixed on the flames in front of him. You would give anything to know what he’s thinking, but you won’t ask. You said everything you wanted to say, and if that’s not enough for Arthur, then there’s nothing you can do.

When Arthur looks back up at you, there’s an expression on his face you’ve never seen before. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, your heart racing in your chest. All you know is that whatever Arthur’s about to say next will decide your future together.

——–

Everything you said to Arthur is swirling around in his head, making him dizzy. For months, he tried to get over you, and Arthur only agreed to let you come along because he was sure he finally got his feelings under control. He should have known better.

What happened in the saloon showed Arthur how afraid he was to lose you, and calling you his wife, even as a ruse, made him happier than anything in a long time. After what you just told Arthur, the two of you can’t go back to things how they were before, and he has to admit that you’re right. You’re able to make your own decisions, and if you decided – for whatever reason – that you wanted to be with him, then who is he to take that away from you?

Arthur‘s heart sings at the mere thought of giving in. No matter his feelings of right and wrong, nobody can blame him for losing this battle, not if you’re sitting there, begging him with all that you have to allow the two of you to be happy.

When Arthur looks into your eyes, the longing in his heart grows so unbearable that he can’t take it anymore. He opens his arms, inviting you in. "Come here.“

You fly into Arthur’s arms without a second of hesitation, proving once more that he’s doing the right thing. Arthur pulls you into his lap, and you put your arms around his neck, making him look up into your beautiful face.

"I tried for so long,“ he says, defeat in his voice. "I can’t get you out of my head.“

Arthur trails his fingers along your cheek as you smile at him. "You’re not supposed to.“

He draws you in, and you follow, letting him kiss you. Arthur thought there could be nothing better than your first kiss, but nothing compares to this one. This time, there’s nothing bad or shameful about it.

You melt against Arthur’s body, your hands running through his hair while he holds you close, not wanting to let go ever again. Arthur wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, but you roll your hips, grinding against him.

"Arthur, I want you,” you say, looking at him in a way that makes his heart miss a beat, but then you cast your eyes down as if ashamed. “If you want me, too.”

Every impure thought that Arthur had about you rushes through his mind, and he has a hard time not to throw you down to the ground and have his way with you. After all, you deserve much better than that. He’ll respect your wishes, but he still feels like it’s his responsibility to protect you.

“Of course I want you,” he says, his words getting you to look at him again, “but we have time. There’s no need to rush anything.”

“Rush?” I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.“ You let out a little laugh before running your hand over your face as if you want to hide. "I even tried seducing you when we were alone, but you never seemed to care.”

Arthur can’t help that his mouth falls open, thinking about all those times he had to hold himself back. “You did that on purpose?”

“What do you think? I don’t just undress in front of everybody,” you say, playing with the buttons on Arthur’s shirt.

“You gave me such a hard time with that,” Arthur says with a sigh. “This is already bad enough.”

He’s holding you by the hips, feeling how you begin to move on top of him. “Then maybe I should try one more time,” you whisper.

You reach down to unbutton your dress, pushing down your chemise. This time, Arthur looks without reservation before leaning in and kissing the exposed skin. You bury your fingers in his hair, still rolling your hips, and Arthur has to admit to himself that you might not be as innocent as you seem. It makes no sense to treat you like a delicate flower when you’re actually the storm.

Arthur reaches down to hike up your skirt, his fingers trailing along the soft skin of your thighs. You hold still but reach down to help him, pulling your dress up right over your head. It takes a little fumbling, but it’s worth it. Having you sit on top of him in your thin chemise brings heat to Arthur’s whole body, and he can’t help that he’s getting painfully hard in his pants.

There’s a knowing grin on your face, almost as if you’re mocking him, and Arthur can’t take it anymore. He lifts you up and leans forward, carefully putting you down on his bedroll. Without hesitation, Arthur pulls up the skirt, and you wiggle under him, letting him undress you fully.

Arthur can’t remember having seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. In the dim light of the fire, your skin has a lovely glow, your body a perfect combination of straight lines and inviting curves. If he wasn’t so desperate to touch you, Arthur would have loved to draw you like this.

With his fingers, Arthur follows a line from your cheek along your neck, tracing your collarbone and climbing up the swell of your breast. Your nipple hardens under his touch, and Arthur can’t help but lean in and suck it into his mouth. You let out a surprised gasp, soon followed by barely audible moans when Arthur keeps teasing your breasts with both lips and hands.

You reach for him, eagerly pushing down his suspenders, and Arthur comes up for a moment to let you get him out of his shirt. Your eyes roam over his naked chest while your hands massage his muscles, coming to rest on his shoulders. You draw Arthur in, letting him kiss your breasts and stomach while your fingers dig into the skin on his back.

Arthur moves even lower, his hands closing around your thighs. You eagerly open your legs for him, giving him a first look at the sweet locks that cover your mount and lips. Arthur traces his fingers in a swirling line through them before touching your soft center. You gasp again when Arthur pushes between your folds, enticing wetness greeting him.

He wouldn’t mind teasing you some more, but you reach for him, beckoning him to come back to you. “Arthur, please.”

Arthur follows your plea, crawling over your body, his arms propped up next to your face. You pull him in for a kiss, your tongue licking into his mouth as if you might die without his taste. You keep him close like this while your hands wander down his chest and to his pants. You pry them open, getting hot waves to roll all over Arthur’s body.

The anticipation is unbearable, and Arthur moans against your lips when you finally close your fingers around his cock to get him out of his pants. Free from the enclosure, you reward him with slow strokes along his whole lengths, making Arthur bite his lip.

You soothe him with soft kisses, but you’re just as desperate, your hips moving under him. “Take me, Arthur, please.”

Arthur wishes he could show more restraint, but he’s dreamed about this way too often in too many ways to hold back now. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds, using your wetness to get himself slick as well, and when your fingers dig into his shoulders, Arthur pushes in.

You’re so hot and tight, he hopes he can keep this up and goes as slowly as he can. You still gasp in surprise, and more sighs and moans break out of you when Arthur conquers you inch by inch. Once he’s fully sheeted inside of you, Arthur holds still, enjoying the feeling of being close.

“You okay?” he whispers against your lips, and you take a deep breath before being able to reply.

“God, yes,” you sigh, rolling your hips again.

Arthur dares to move with you. You kiss, again and again, hands roaming over heated skin, while Arthur pushes into you at a steady pace. Your hands wander around Arthur’s neck, and soon you seem to hold on for dear life. With your breathing speeding up, Arthur knows you won’t make it much longer, and the harder he thrusts into you, the more desperate become your moans.

Leaning in to kiss and bite your neck, Arthur finally throws you over the edge. Your thighs shake as you come, your muscles clenching around Arthur’s cock. You cling to him, whispering profanities he never thought you capable of knowing, and it becomes harder and harder for him to hold back.

Still, Arthur tries not to overwhelm you, but you keep moving, spurring him on. “Please, Arthur. I want you, I want all of you.”

With your beautiful, young body moving under him in ecstasy, Arthur can’t hold back his lust. His fingers dig hard into your flesh as he buries himself deep in your hot core, filling you up with his come.

You’re both drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Arthur wishes he could ask if you’re alright, but he doesn’t have enough air. Instead, you share a few soft kisses. Despite that first wave of satisfaction, Arthur can’t stop touching you. His fingers trace over your smooth skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Arthur’s been thinking about being with you for so long, he feels as if he’s in a dream. He kisses his way down your body, and when his hands massage your thighs, you open his legs for him. Arthur trails his fingers over your soft lips, making you roll your hips.

Teased like this, Arthur can see how your muscles work, and his come is swelling out of you, trickling down. The sight steers something inside of Arthur. It’s as if he marked you, finally making you his.

He can’t help but touch you, and the urge to taste you as well overcomes him. Arthur leans in, running his tongue over your clit, and you let out a surprised moan. With his hands on your thighs, Arthur keeps teasing you with his tongue.

He doesn’t mind his own taste that’s soon replaced with yours, your moans and soft cries growing more urgent. The way you move under Arthur steers up his own arousal. Caught between your legs like this, he can’t hold in his own moans.

You bury your fingers in Arthur’s hair, lifting your hips and urging him on with pleas for more. He happily indulges you, teasing you with his fingers as well as his mouth until you let out a frustrated groan.

Arthur stops and looks up to you, and before he can ask if you’re alright, you already push him back by the shoulders. The second he’s on his back, you crawl on top of him, rubbing yourself against his hardening cock.

You lean in and kiss Arthur, taking heavy breaths in between. All he can do is hold on to your hips as you lift yourself up to push him inside of you again. Trapped in your tight heat, Arthur lets his head fall back.

He might have marked you today, but at this moment, Arthur knows that you did so long ago. Arthur’s been yours from the start, and that won’t ever change, not as long as you’ll have him.

———

You dreamed about being with Arthur many times, but none of it compares to the real thing. His every touch sets you on fire, waking a lust inside of you that you’ve never known before. Longing to be close, you keep kissing Arthur, your body pressed against his as you move your hips to feel him deep inside of you.

All of it still seems like a dream, and you have the urge to make the most of it, feeling and tasting Arthur, desperate to make as many memories of this moment as you can.

Your eager cries fill the night, mixed in with Arthur’s moans, the both of you too desperate to hold back. You claw and bite, leaving marks on each other’s skin. The thought of the other gang members seeing them turns you on more than you ever thought possible.

Now that Arthur finally agreed to be with you, you want everybody else to know. You kiss along Arthur’s neck and suck the skin between your teeth, biting down enough to make Arthur growl. His fingers dig hard into your hips, and he holds you in place while he thrusts into you.

Arthur’s cock hits you deeply as he slides in and out of you with lewd sounds, and from one second to the other, everything becomes too much. You bury your face against Arthur’s neck as you fall over the edge, waves of pleasure rolling all over your body.

You cling to Arthur, and he holds you tight, his hips bucking as you shake on top of him. He moans against your ear, filling you up with his come as your clenching muscles tighten around him.

For a while, you just stay like this, enjoying the warmth of Arthur’s body against your own. His fingertips trail softly over the skin on your back, and when your eyes threaten to fall shut, Arthur gets you to move.

After helping you into your chemise, Arthur carries you into the tent, and the second he lies down, you cuddle up to him. Arthur kisses your forehead and puts his arms around you as if he never wants to let go again.

You just lie there for a while until Arthur lets out a long sigh. “I fell in love with you, too, you know. Pretty much from the start.”

Warmth spreads in your chest, and you bury your face in the crook of Arthur’s neck. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

“Do me a favor then?” Arthur says, the words turning into a question.

“Anything.”

“Next time, just tell me right away what’s good for us. I’m an idiot most of the time.”

You laugh, but run your hand over Arthur’s chest as if to wash the thought away. “You’re my idiot now, so don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, darling,” Arthur says, squeezing you slightly.

You close your eyes, feeling safer and more comfortable than ever before in your life. Everything bad in your past just drifts away, making room for happiness and a future you only ever dared to dream about.

“You were right,” you say. “It’s just books. This was so much better.”

Arthur chuckles, and you fall asleep to the sound of it, the first time of many over the years to come.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #my writing #fulfilled request #emily-strange #Anonymous

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 4 years

Text

Love Is Blind: Chapter Seven

About 30 minutes later, they were walking out to Chris’s car. Robyn smiled at the black Range Rover, “this isn’t the same car from before, is it?”

“It is. I had it shipped here.”

“Really? Why? I’m sure you could’ve gotten another car.”

“Yea but I have an attachment to this one and I still don’t trust anyone driving it.”

“You were so territorial over this car.”

“You bought it for me.”

“I did.”

“That’s enough of a reason for me.”

Robyn chuckled as he followed her to the passenger side and helped her into the car. Chris ran around the front and climbed into the driver’s seat, “music or no?”

“Not necessary.”

“Ok.”

It took a few minutes before they arrived at the park and Chris found parking. They started their walking at the East side entrance of the park.

“You know I’ve lived here for a few years and never came here,” Robyn remarked as she looked around.

“I’ve been here maybe once or twice. It’s better at night. Not too many people around,” Chris replied.

“I could see the appeal. So since we now know who it was behind the phone, what exactly have you been up to? How’s the family?”

“My family is good. Aunt Christine moved back to Virginia. As you know Jess lives upstate but she had another baby two years ago.”

“Boy or Girl?”

“Boy named Emmanuel.”

“Nice. I’m sure he’s a cutie pie.”

“He is. Very funny kid.”

“So what else?”

“Just work, therapy and Anesa, of course.”

“Anesa. I don’t know, I never imagined you going through with adoption when you are still able to have a child.”

“I couldn’t have a child with who I wanted to have a child with so I figured adoption was better.”

“Are you saying that you only wanted children with me?”

“Yup. I never deviated from our original plan, you know. It’s just when we were married, I wasn’t in the right mind to be a father. There was so much I had to heal and clean up first. Last thing we needed was a baby in the middle of the chaos.”

“I can respect that.”

“Besides a parent should never give a child a job before they’re even born.”

“I can agree with that as well.”

“So what’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing much. Family is the same. Lele had a son a few years ago, Maxwell. Mel is still with Juan. My brothers are still running through girls but at least they have their own places and jobs now.”

“That’s always a good thing.”

“Not the happy ending you expected, huh?”

“Almost. I was expecting you had moved on, gotten married or something like that.”

“You ruined me for other people, Christopher and not just in the bad way either.”

Chris chuckled as Robyn playfully nudged his shoulder. He moved to put his arm around her but stopped a few centimeters from her shoulder, “is this ok?”

Robyn nodded and leaned into his body as he put his arm around her, “did I actually greet you when I got to the restaurant?”

“You addressed me but it’s not like we hugged or anything. I wasn’t expecting that much.”

“Oh ok.”

“So how have you been? What are you feeling right now?”

“I feel a little bit unsure but I’m ok to be honest. You?”

“I feel good. A little foolish but good.”

“Foolish? Why?”

“This is something I should’ve done years ago.”

“Maybe but sometimes things happen when they’re supposed to. Think about it, we’ve both been in NY for over five years and never once ran into each other. That’s crazy.”

“That is crazy.”

“But...I think Lele might’ve seen you a couple weeks ago.”

“Really?”

“Yea, she came and told me that she saw someone who looked like you downtown but wasn’t sure since it was just a profile.”

“Was she wearing a turquoise shirt with a navy skirt suit, black, white and turquoise shoes?”

“How in the-”

“Yea, that was me. I figured it was her because Lele is hard to miss but I didn’t want her to know I had seen her.”

“She is going to flip when I tell her.”

Chris laughed, “please don’t. I do not need her calling to curse me out for not saying hi or something.”

“If she curses you out, it won’t be for that.”

“Really?”

“I told you everyone thinks we should’ve never gotten divorced. She is the leader of that group.”

“Lele? Really? I could’ve sworn she hated me.”

“What? No. She just likes picking at you, that’s all.”

“Oh ok.”

“Is that another reason why you didn’t stay in touch? You thought everybody hated you?”

“That and I didn’t have the decency to stay in your life, why come back and insert myself in it again?”

“Chris, you do know that I never hated you. I was upset and frustrated but I’ve never hated you.”

“I had hoped but you never know. Women aren’t known for forgiving men who break their hearts the way I did.”

“Women aren’t me, Christopher.”

“You are definitely right about that.”

They fell silent and continued walking for another 10 or 20 minutes. Chris stopped at a bench and they sat down. Robyn leaned into his shoulder and he grabbed her hand, “what you thinking about? You feel tense.”

“Just thinking about what’s next.”

“Well Christopher, that depends on what you want.”

“I think it depends on what you want actually.”

“I would like for us to continue talking. It’s clear we’ve both changed a lot over the years. There’s no harm in being friends, is there?”

“No. I’d be honored to be friends with you.”

“And if something changes, we’ll talk about it right.”

“Right. I promise.”

“Don’t promise, just do.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Robyn chuckled as she squeezed his hand, “I’m not old enough to be a Ma’am, Chris.”

“I know. Just seemed more appropriate than just saying yes. Am I allowed to kiss your cheek?”

“Absolutely,” Robyn replied as she angled her face toward him. Chris kissed the very top of her cheekbones then the corner of her eye before kissing her temple.

“You never could just give me one kiss, huh?”

“Some things must happen in threes.”

She smiled up at him before leaning back into his shoulder, “how long we got together?”

“As long as you want. I’m not gonna head upstate until tomorrow afternoon. Why? You got something you want to do?”

“No, I was just wondering.”

“Speaking of wondering, would you like to formally meet Anesa?”

“Sure if it’s not gonna give anyone the wrong idea.”

“What? No. She knows I was married before and I’d love for you to meet her since we’re building a friendship and everything.”

“Ok. I’d love to.”

“Good. So are we still gonna play this secret or?”

“Lele already knows and if she told Mel then eventually my entire family is gonna know so it probably won’t stay secret for long.”

“Then you could come with me to Jessica’s house. I’ll bring you back in the evening.”

“Is she gonna be ok with me being there?”

“Absolutely. When I tell you my sister still adores you, she does. She actually got mad at me for not knowing what my internet friend looked like because she didn’t want her to be uglier compared to you.”

Robyn laughed, “You’re kidding.”

“I am so serious.”

“Wow.”

“But this means we’ll have to leave in the morning for us to have enough time to actually do something while we’re up there.”

“That’s fine. I’m banned from work for two weeks, remember.”

“That is very true. Did you decide on what to do?”

“I’m going for a meditation retreat but it’s only for a week so I’m free this week until Friday.”

“Cool. How about we get that horse riding lesson we never made it to?”

“You remember that?”

“Definitely,” Chris said with a laugh, “I mean we missed it for a good reason but we still never learned.”

“True. And maybe you can show me all the new instruments you learned to play.”

“I can show you that tonight if you want.”

“How?”

“I have an entire music classroom to myself and I have a condo with my instruments nearby. I’m sure we can find a sax and piano for me to play.”

“Are you comfortable about having me in your place?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Robyn shrugged.

“It’s not a huge deal. I can make us some hot chocolate, I always keep some sweet cake in stock. I can play music and we can chill. Is that ok?”

“Yea. That’s perfect.”

“Sorry about the mess,” Chris said as he unlocked the front door, “time gets away from me during the week so I usually clean up on weekends. Your coat?”

Robyn turned so Chris could slip her jacket off her shoulders, “I don’t even see a mess. You’re being silly.”

Chris shrugged as he took off his sweater and placed both their items into the front closet, “you can have a seat in the living room or come into the kitchen with me, your choice.”

“Is it ok if I just walk around?”

“Sure. Self-guide yourself away.”

Robyn giggled as she slipped her shoes off her feet and sat them by the door, “I’ma little more comfortable barefoot.”

“You always were. I’ll get everything started in the kitchen.”

Chris left into the kitchen while Robyn went in the opposite direction towards the living room. She ran her hand along the black leather couch before making her way towards the hallway. The first room she came upon was the bathroom, she glanced in briefly before continuing past it. The next room appeared to be a storage room. Leaning against one wall was a guitar case, a saxophone case and a set of speakers. On the opposite wall was a luxury portable piano, the wires from the back were connected to the speakers and a cushioned bench was placed in front of it.

She left the room and continued down the hall to another room, the door was slightly ajar. She smiled at the pink accent wall and the stuffed toy covered bed. Anesa’s room. It looked like she had everything a 3 year old could ever ask of. Carefully fixing the door back as it was, she moved to the last door in the hall. Chris’s bedroom. Her hand stalled on the door knob, the door wasn’t completely closed but for some reason she felt like she was trespassing all of a sudden.

“You can go in.”

Robyn jumped at the sound of a voice behind her. She pressed her hand to her chest as she turned around to face Chris, “you scared me.”

Chris chuckled, “Sorry. You didn’t have to hesitate, you can go into my bedroom.

“I wasn’t-” Chris arched his brow and Robyn giggled, “Ok, I was just gathering my nerves.”

“Why? It’s just a bedroom.”

“It’s a sacred space.”

Chris grabbed her hand and pushed open the door for them to walk inside. His bed sat up on a metal platform. The large piece of furniture made Robyn speechless, “Wow.”

“Not what you expected.”

“No, that bed is just huge.”

Chris laughed, “it’s custom. I have a matching one in my house upstate.”

“It’s beautiful. Why so big?”

“Well I’m tall and I like a lot of space.”

“True. This is a beautiful condo. Are you renting or you own?”

“I own. I bought this place when I first moved here, I got the house when I decided to foster and adopt so there was an option of a backyard and some quiet away from the city.”

“Nice. Your music room?”

“It’s soundproof so I can play to my heart’s content no matter the hour.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“I got lucky because a musician used to live here and it was already done. I paid a little extra but it was less than if I soundproofed it from scratch.”

“That’s a good deal.”

“Did you ever decide if you were buying?”

“I think I’m gonna buy my apartment actually. It’s the perfect location and I think I’m way too attached to it.”

“That’s understandable. So you still looking around or-”

“No, we can go back out. I think I’ve invaded your privacy enough.”

“It’s not an invasion if I invited you. Come on.”

Still holding her hand, Chris led her to the living room, where his piano was now set up, “you can have a seat anywhere.”

“When did you move this? I couldn’t have been that distracted.”

Chris chuckled, “it barely took two minutes.”

He moved the coffee table closer to her. It was laden with bite size sweets and candies and a thermos of hot chocolate.

“You thirsty? I can get you juice or water if you don’t want hot chocolate.”

“No, the hot chocolate is perfect. I’m surprised you don’t think I’m weird that I agreed to it. It is Springtime.”

“Doesn’t have to be cold to enjoy hot chocolate. There’s marshmallows, confectioners and granulated sugar and some chopped up chocolate pieces to mix into it, if you want.”

“You remembered?”

“I did. Truth be told, it’s the only way I can drink it now. I got so used to you drinking it that way.”

“Crazy how much of our dating got overshadowed by our marriage.”

“That tends to happen.”

Chris sat down at the bench behind the piano as Robyn poured herself a cup of hot chocolate and dropped a handful of marshmallows into it, “any requests?”

“Something original.”

“Off the top?”

“Or something you’ve already composed is good.”

Chris thought for a few moments then pressed his fingers onto the keys. Robyn smiled and leaned back against the couch pillows as he started to play.

She wasn’t sure how many songs they went through but she had never felt so light in a long time.

“You wanna learn a few keys?” Chris said softly, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this,” Robyn replied as she set her cup on the table.

“It’s not difficult. Come here.”

Robyn sat down on the bench next to him and Chris placed her fingertips on the keys in the resting position, “now this is the resting position. You start with your right thumb on the C note key and then let your other fingers fall into place behind it. If we were using both hands, you’d mirror this on the left side.”

“When’d you learn piano?”

“I always knew the basics of it. Once I decided to go into teaching music, I decided to brush up on my skills.”

“I never knew that.”

“When I originally learned, it was at an afterschool program. I only played to get out of doing homework.:

Robyn laughed, “Sounds like something you would do. So what about the sax and guitar?”

“It was a part of my music therapy when I was in the hospital.”

“Did they put you on meds?”

“Some antidepressants at first but as I got better with handling myself, they reduced it until I didn’t need them anymore.”

“Do you still see a therapist?”

“At least twice a month, more if I feel like I need it. I’m in more of a maintenance mode than prevention mode.”

“That’s beautiful. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask you something since it’s still fairly early?”

“Sure?”

“Did you not think you could’ve done this with me around?”

“Could I have done it? If I really tried, absolutely. Was I in the right space to do it? No. I really hate that my leaving makes you feel like it was you because honestly it wasn’t. You did nothing wrong. It was my ego and fear that led me into the space I was in, I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

Robyn nodded her head in understanding.

The silence settled in around them as Robyn slid her hands into her lap. Chris looked over at her and smiled, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you uncomfortable being here with me?”

“No. This has been really fun. I don’t even know what time it is.”

“It is getting late. I can take you home if you’re ready.”

“Are you ready for me to leave?”

“No but then again I’m also worried that I may never see you again.”

“Why?”

“You know who I am now. The mystery is gone. That kind of changes things as you inferred earlier.”

“That’s true but that doesn’t mean I would ghost you necessarily.”

“One can hope.”

“When I said I wasn’t angry anymore, I did mean it, Christopher.”

“I know. I am not doubting that in any way.”

“So what makes you worried?”

“It’s just me being realistic. We know who we are. The novelty may wear off. We are each other’s past that we so extensively discussed.”

“Yea. Doesn’t make it a bad thing though.”

Chris turned and moved to cup her face on the opposite side of him, “is this ok?”

“Yes.”

“May I kiss your cheek?”

Robyn smiled, “yes, you may.”

Chris kissed the top of her cheekbone, the corner of her eye then her temple before resting his face against hers. He felt her breath softly stroke his skin, “you remember why I always do that?”

“The cheekbone for the smiles. The eyes for inner sight. The temple for inner thoughts.”

“You remember.”

“It’s an odd kissing ritual so it’s kind of hard to forget. Very sweet but odd.”

Chris chuckled as he rested his arm around her shoulders, “I think we should get you home. It’s late and we’ll need to get up at a decent hour to see Jess and Anesa.”

“What time is it?”

“10:30.”

“I’ve been hanging out with you for 4 and a half hours. Wow.”

“That is a while. You tired of me yet?”

“No,” Robyn said with a nudge of his shoulder, “but you don’t have to take me home. I can call a cab.”

‘Nope, I brought you here, I will take you home unless you wanna stay. The couch pulls out into a bed.”

“You gonna let a total stranger sleep in your house?”

“When you can identify this total stranger then we’ll have that conversation.”

Robyn laughed, “In less than 24 hours, we’ve mended some fence and are already having our first sleepover.”

“Sometimes things just fall in place, huh?”

“I guess so. But if I’m gonna stay, I need something to sleep in.”

“Follow me.”

Chris led her to his bedroom closet and he pulled out a wrapped pair of pajamas, “Jess stays over sometimes so I have to be prepared. Her in Mommy mode is not pretty.”

Robyn laughed, “Thank you. I’ll use the other bathroom to change.”

“There’s towels and washcloths in there on the shelf above the toilet. The cabinet has lotion and oils, if you need it. I’m gonna clean up the living room so you have room to sleep.”

“Thanks. See you in a bit.”

Chris had just stepped out of his bedroom when Robyn came out of the bathroom and saw each other in the hall. Chris ran his hands over his hair, “I was getting ready to come check on you. Everything alright?”

“Yea, just taking a moment for myself.”

“Have you changed your mind? I don’t mind taking-” Chris stopped as Robyn shook her head.

“Chris, anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?”

“Once or twice.”

“Relax. I haven’t changed my mind. Just a personal ritual, I do. Nothing serious.”

They walked to the living room where Chris had pulled out the couch bed and placed new linens and pillows on it, “I wasn’t sure if you liked a lot of pillows anymore but I took a chance.”

“Thanks. That hasn’t changed.”

Chris smiled, “The remotes for the radio and TV are on the side table, I have Netflix and all the channels if you aren’t ready to sleep yet. Everything in the kitchen is accessible but if you need something specific just let me know.”

“Chris, I am fine. Getting sleepy but fine.”

“Is there anything you need before I go to my room?”

“Yea.”

“What’s that?”

“Can you cuddle with me?”

“I would love to.”

#chrianna #loveisblindfanfiction

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soviet-history-detective · 4 years

Text

What is the cost of not respecting boundaries?

(For those who haven’t seen, Part 1 and Part 2) A quick rundown for the people who are wondering what’s going on: Hello, folks. I am one of the leading Chernobyl/Legasov researchers who runs this youtube channel. I found the audio fragments of Legasov tapes which became quite a hit and received praise from Craig Mazin. Legasov tapes, which the migty HBO couldn’t find with their Russian-speaking consultants and millions of dollars of budget. I found rare photos and pre-Chernobyl videos of Legasov, translated a substantial amount of documentary material on Soviet near history topics, a good chunk of that being on Legasov and Chernobyl. I am a live and let live kind of person and I was willing to look the other way with the Valoris shipping business cause “they were shipping the tv show characters and fangirling about the actors” so I ignored it and posted historical information, answered questions, unearthed and translated documentary videos and text material. Then I abruptly stopped and went quiet cause the shipper gang went too far and started writing gross shit, rape fantasies and dragging real people who weren’t even in the tv show into their godawful fics -one of them being someone I highly admire, respect and look up as an inspiration and role model notwithstanding.

They didn’t stick to Valoris, they had to involve the people who were not in the script at all. People whose names they learned from me. They had the audacity to discuss their fucked up fantasies (which they call headcanons) right under my nose, they couldn’t control themselves since they are completely driven by base animal instincts and some of them are downright sociopaths with no boundaries: Rabid and depraved, driven only by the primitive sexual instincts, with a two digit IQ, no understanding of boundaries, ethics, morals, completely bereft of common respect and decency. It’s creepy as hell -run for the hills kind of creepy. (When I say no ethics and morals I don’t mean only sexual perversions. One of them is notorious for plagiarizing other people’s content in multiple social media platforms and acting indifferent when called out.) So I got creeped out, grossed out, infuriated, disillusioned and went quiet. Blocked everyone who was associated with Valoris to avoid their gross thirst talks. Blocked the tag too. Stopped posting new finds after the last Legasov video compilation. Stopped translating videos and text material for a long while.

They are way past normal shipping. This is some seriously fucked up shit. Here are a couple of examples (Warning: Gross content, rape fantasies, scroll past the images and continue reading below if you can’t stomach or are a minor)

Here is more rape:

Their biggest argument is “We are writing fics about the fictionalized tv show characters” which is total and utter bullshit, because:

Nikolai Ryzhkov was not in the tv show at all.

Neither was Vladimir Gubarev. Why are they in those fics?

This isn’t all, there are public posts here where they were bouncing ideas and coming up with the most abhorrent fantasies about a real person who was NOT in the tv show. I don’t have the time to search them, plus they are really gross, you are better off not seeing it. (A paranthesis here: I’m totally indifferent about explicit fics if they involve only fictional characters and not promote rape culture. Just to make things clear.)

If you are using the names of real people, you are shipping real people. Period. I can write a fic using the shipper gang’s names in an alternate reality setting where they are an evil gang of cannibalistic cunts who raid maternity wards and butcher all the babies then burn puppies ad kittens alive for fun. Or I can write a fic where they all get sodomized with saguaro cacti dipped in ghost pepper sauce by sadistic rogue KGB agents. It’s fictionalized versions of them in an alternate universe after all, so it’s totally ok. Right? Well, there really is no point arguing these things, and that is not even the point of this post. I’m just saying it’s fucked up, creepy and wrong in every way.

Not to mention they bully and gaslight people who speak up against them. Grown ass women bullying a 15 year old and adding a transphobic comment after learning they are trans is NOT COOL. @ihatefandomsfuckyouall can testify as the target of their bullying. That’s wrong and creepy as hell.

HOWEVER. Like I said in the previous post, this won’t be about a holy jihad against shipping or some big anti-shipper crusade. Nope, nope and nope with nope sauce.

Ship away, ship all you want, ship till you drop, ship till you turn Fedex green with envy. I am not here to lecture sociopaths driven solely by primitive sexual instincts and bereft of any kind of boundaries, morals, common respect and decency. There is nothing I or anyone can do about it. Like i said, I have no intention of trying to talk sense into anyone or giving sermons. So rest assured that I am well aware it’s pointless and stupid to wage a war against shipping, however gross and vile it is. I can’t stop you from sexualizing anything that walks (or has been long dead) and spewing sick ass fantasies. I will repeat for those with two digit IQ: I know there is nothing I or anyone can do to stop you from doing what you are doing, absolutely nothing. So I will do NOTHING. Got it? Whoever claims otherwise is full of shit, I will do absolutely NOTHING, you got my word 100%.

Seriously I won’t hate on you, I won’t call for holy wars and witch hunts. So, rest assured, I will not make any move against any of you, nope. Besides I don’t have the time for that, I have a busy life and better things to do. No war, no hate, no screaming, no drama, nothing. Is that clear? Capiche? Comprende? Понятно?

Well, now let’s get to the heart of the matter:

I have been quiet but not idle. I’ve been contacting people, sending queries, making phone calls, digging state archive repositories. I have been finding material and boy did I find material! I happen to be one of the very few people who are blessed with an extraordinary ability to find things no one else can find. You have seen what I can find by utilizing search engines and going through links. Even Craig Mazin himself was mighty impressed with my finds, the proof is out there in public view, I won’t bother digging it up now.

Anyway. It turns out I can find hell of a lot more than that by contacting people, sending queries, making phone calls and digging through state archive repositories. Some of it costs pretty penny but no matter, I don’t mind paying for never-before-published video footage that is not on the internet. Some of it is not even digitized so you gotta pay extra fee for digitization and it can be quite high depending on the video length and media.

We are talking about HD videos here. There is excellent AI video processing software out there which can turn even the most primitive 19th century videos to crystal clear 60 fps HD so we are good. (Example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HbElEqm1TQ) I have photos that can’t be found by searching the internet. You’d drop dead if you saw some of them. I’m working on getting the full footage of Legasov’s IAEA presentation. It’s hella difficult, you have to personally go to Vienna and go through the seven hells and seven lower hells to obtain access. Also you need to be a research scientist with a reference letter. (All this info and list of requirements can be found on IAEA official site.) I won’t get into the details but I have it all sorted out, scientist and all. It wasn’t easy and it took a damn lot of time, effort, pulling family connections etc. Now the only remaining roadblock is this accursed coronavirus. As soon as the pandemic subsides a trip to Vienna shall be in order. The long Q&A session following Legasov’s report is unfortunately not available, but Legasov’s report certainly is (after fulfilling a laundry list of requirements.)

This is not all. There are photos (in addition to the publicly available ones I posted before) and video footage of Ryzhkov visiting Chernobyl, Legasov’s meetings, partial video of one Polituro meeting. There is this one precious footage where Legasov is laughing and drinking vodka. I won’t even say how many hours of work it took to find that. (Plot twist: I’m not the one who found it!) I have a pile of videos of Ryzhkov when he was the chairman of the council of ministers of the USSR, which are historical records of tremendous importance and not on Youtube. Buddies who have seen them had insta-man crush on him without even hearing my translation. Some of you would KILL for those, I know for a fact. For the Legasov drinking-partying video you would sell your soul to the devil (who wouldn’t?)

I have an IAEA report with an extremely rare photo you can’t find by searching. I won’t tell you who is in it cause I don’t want to supply anything you could use for your gross fics. Suffices to say one of them is someone you are drooling about and the other one is a big shot name that’s not on your radar and will unleash all kinds of fic ideas once you hear it. So nope. I ain’t giving you another Ryzhkov, I learned my lesson. I have video footage of that same man giving high praise to Legasov, talking with a tone of fondness, defending him against accusations. Such a sweet video. It put tears in my eyes. I can see you gang drooling a lake over that one so hell fucking no.

Did I mention I started translating Legasov documentaries? Every single one on youtube. Including the entire Звезда Полынь. Also planning to convert some Legasov footage to HD using the aforementioned software tools.

I have actually been posting videos and text material translations left and right, just out of your sight (nice rhyme, isn’t it?) 90% the material I listed above is either in the pipeline or in my hard disk. @tryingtobealwaystrying can verify. She helped out a great deal with the IAEA business and I owe her one for that. We are both individually damn good at finding stuff but it turned out we can work wonders as a team. As a result, we have a treasure trove of the highest order in hand and in the works.

And, here is the deal: YOU WILL SEE NONE OF IT.

N.O.N.E.

Not a shred. Not a pixel. Nothing. Ничего. Совсем нет.

Get it now? “You didn’t see it cause it’s not there!”

You won’t see it cause it won’t be there!

So, this is it. I can’t do anything about your shipping scumbaggery but I can cut off your supply and deprive you of material and information. You will NEVER be able to find any of it on your own (let alone afford the fees for.)

I will deprive you of the fruits of my labor.

Indefinitely.

Of course that doesn’t mean I’ll keep it all to myself. I will share them but not in public. In fact I have translated and posted some videos you wanted real bad, one of them got 1000 views overnight but they are not public, for my work is not for the eyes of the wicked and unclean miscreants. I post them in shipper-free foreign forums you can’t find and send links privately to decent, wholesome people who are interested in Chernobyl and Soviet history for the passion to learn and admiration for the historical figures, not for spinning depraved fantasies and writing horrendous, projectile-vomit-inducing sex fics. And -as those of you who possess three digit IQ’s might have figured out!- I am not alone in that. (Plot twist FTW!) Congrats, folks. You managed to alienate and drive away the top Chernobyl-Legasov researchers and translators with your hideous debauchery, extreme scumbaggery and abominable attitude. So, this is your punishment: NOTHING. This is the consequence you will deal with. This is the cost of your choices.

A big nothing is all you will ever get from now on.

See, told ya, there is absolutely nothing I can do about your gross shipping and scumbaggery so I will do NOTHING.

Got the joke? LOL. I have awesome humor don’t I :)

No more videos. No more photos. No more answers. No more translations. No more information.

You royally fucked up, people. You don’t get to eat the cake and the icing, especially not when you offend and insult the cooks, take a dump in the middle of the restaurant and masturbate while rolling in it. You could have kept it out of sight. You could have exercised some goddamn tact. But no, you had to behave like animals in heat.

Well, you can continue obsessing over the TV show scripts until you get sick of it. I will be posting translations of different parts of Soviet history like the WW2 era. You can ship Hitler and Stalin all you want. Get those headcanons rolling! I will even give you a prompt: Stalin cheats on Hitler with Mussolini. LMAO.

You know what, I take back the not a pixel thing. We may post screenshots from the videos and low-res crops from the photos from time to time just to rub it in your face.

Here is one where they are grilling Velikhov shortly after Legasov’s suicide. Oh boy you gotta see his face when they start bombarding him about Legasov’s death....

Here is the shot from a long video where the legendary Premier Ryzhkov is sporting the legendary 80′s Soviet glasses in all his superlative handsome glory. He is giving an interview about important historical turning points in this video and this isn’t even the best shot. You have to pay to get a copy but before that you need a superpower-like ability to find where it is in the first place. I scaled it up to 1440×1080 but not gonna put the high resolution version cause I’m such a darling.

Here is Ryzhkov in the famous white work attire of the Soviet era. Looks familiar, yes? Do I need to tell WHERE he is and what he is doing? (Hint: The year is 1986.)

Oh man, oh man. How worried he looks, so heart-wrenching. The footage is only about 3 minutes but absolutely solid gold. I won’t say whether there is Legasov or Scherbina or BOTH of them appearing in this footage cause I’m such a sweetheart.

Unfortunately I am not at liberty to post any Legasov shots cause I am not the finder of the Legasov videos we currently have at hand. Too bad, so sad. There you go. Enjoy your cold dish of nothing. Bon appetite. Adios amigas! WHAT IS THE COST OF NOT RESPECTING BOUNDARIES? @tryingtobealwaystrying @the--arch @ihatefandomsfuckyouall @rarravai @weronikaisback @live-long-and-time-warp @tryingtobealwaystrying @chernobylgal86

#chernobyl #valery legasov #legasov #boris scherbina #valoris #chernobyl nuclear disaster #Soviet History #soviet union #ussr #shippers take all the fun out of life #like cockroaches in the picnic #this is why we cant have nice things #ACCESS DENIED #NO SOUP FOR YOU

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itsthemoofacewriting · 4 years

Text

Don’t look back, just keep your eyes on me

Summary: They were going to need each other if they wanted to survive education. A-level/School AU. LuNami

Rating: K- No warnings, just wholesome goodness.

So, this is kind of a rewrite of my other story School Days on FFN. I wrote School Days a reaaaaally long time ago, I think I was 15? And that’s probably being a bit generous, I was probably younger. Now at 24, I think I can give it a better crack. I’ll still leave the original up for people, but I won’t be adding to that story, it’ll go here.

I’m also making everyone the same age; they’ll be anywhere from 16-18 (depending on where we are in the story) and completing their A-levels. I can’t stand separating the Straw hats, they’re a team, guys!

The schooling system is based on the UK. Over here you have primary school (age 5-11), secondary school (11-16), then between the ages of 16-18 you can either go to a college to learn a trade (mechanics, plumbing, hair dressing etc) or a college to do a-levels, which get you ready for university.

Hopefully that’ll explain it but I’m more than happy to answer any other questions people may have.

You can also find this story on FFN and AO3

The new girl

Nami was in a daze. It was her first day. She was alone and lost already. Her and her family had to wait for the previous people to move out before they could travel down. The earliest they could move was two weeks after term had started. That meant that if people at school didn’t know each other, they did now. Friendship groups would have already been made and everyone would be comfortable. She’d be enduring her first day completely alone.

To make matters worse, the school was huge, and the office had given her a tiny map to get around. She’d missed the induction days, which definitely would have helped. There was no winning in this situation. So she would suck it up, square her shoulders and get on with the tiny map, her only companion. Now, if only she could figure out where room L540 was from here.

“You know, if you stand there like that for a few more minutes, you’ll be trampled to death by a stampede of students once the bell rings.”

Nami turned to gape at the morbid, but oddly softly spoken, comment made behind her. The dark-haired girl in front of her giggled and Nami could only presume it was because of the face she was making. Nami then took notice of the guy beside her, with a long nose, making what she presumed was the same face as her. A look of pure horror.

“Robin! Don’t say such morbid things! Especially to someone who is clearly new!”

Nami’s shoulders sagged with defeat, so it was obvious that she was new.

The girl named Robin didn’t look the least bit remorseful and instead wore an innocent smile, as if she had been discussing the weather. “From the look of panic and map, you’re new? Do you need help?”

Okay, this was good. Nami could deal with this. This was her opening to make friends. This Robin girl was a bit dark but seemed nice enough. She was about to reply that she would love some help but was interrupted by a loud voice screaming.

“Usooooooooooooopp,” and before she could even blink, a black blur hurtled passed her and into the long-nosed boy, “you said you’d meet me upstairs at my locker five minutes ago. What’s taking so long? We have classes soon. I wanted to show you something cool. Usoooopp, come ooooon,” the boy whined.

However, the long-nosed boy could hardly reply, as he was currently eating dirt from the floor and trapped underneath the weight of the black-haired boy.

Nami was stunned and trying to comprehend what was going on. Was this normal? Should she help? They clearly knew each other and from the unfazed look that Robin had, this was a regular occurrence.

“Uhhh, are you okay?” Nami tentatively asked, wondering whether she should really be caught up in this. It was only her first day.

It seemed then that the black-haired boy had finally noticed it wasn’t just the two of them. As he looked up at Nami, it was like he was seeing a shiny new toy. “Who are you? I don’t know you, do I? No, I think I would remember you. You have cool hair.” The boy was suddenly up and in Nami’s face. “Oh, and yeah I’m good, why wouldn’t I be? Are you okay? Do you want to see something cool? Usopp is clearly too busy.” He then promptly shoved his finger in his nose, completely unaware that Nami wasn’t asking him but the struggling boy underneath.

Nami started to laugh at the peculiar boy in front of her. He clearly had no respect for the uniform with a ratty straw hat on a string around his neck, tie loose and shirt untucked, trousers rolled up past his ankles and flip flops adorning his feet. He knew it was September, right?

He seemed to brighten as she laughed, not understanding that it was actually directed at him, before he was suddenly beaten to the floor.

“Oi. What the hell Luffy? I wasn’t meant to meet you at your locker for another five minutes. Have some patience! And I’m not suddenly too busy, you were on top of me.” Usopp growled, now on his feet behind the black-haired boy, with his freshly raised fist, after hitting him on the head.

As the boy named Luffy hopped to his feet, he started to squabble with the long-nosed boy.

“I don’t think we’re making the best first impression. My name is Robin, the boy with the straw hat is Luffy and the long-nosed boy is Usopp.” Usopp stopped arguing, seeming to take offense to his description, before being pulled back in by Luffy.

“What room are you in? Perhaps one of us can walk you in that direction?”

Nami could feel relief flood through her body at Robin’s words. Normally she had good directional skills but having a helping hand would be great, as she was slowly running out of time to get to class.

“I’m going to room L540, I have geography. Is there any chance you or these guys are in that class too?”

Robin shook her head in sympathy but before she could reply someone else was shouting down to them.

“Oi, Luffy, if you don’t move your ass, I’m leaving you behind!” A green haired student shouted down from the second floor. The fist bell rang just after, signifying they had to get a move on and make their way towards lessons.

Luffy seemed to remember himself, stopping his childish argument with Usopp and turned to Nami. “L540, right? Cool, that’s the way me and Zoro are going, you can walk with us.”

Nami beamed, turning to say thanks and that hopefully she’d see Robin later but stopped at the girl’s face. She had an odd look on her face, did Robin want to walk with her instead? Just as Nami was about to ask what was wrong, Luffy had grabbed her wrist and took off charging up the stairs.

“Zoro isn’t joking, he really will leave us.”

“I can walk by myself, don’t drag me around like that!”

Nami now understood why Robin had that odd expression before. She wasn’t upset about not being able to walk with her but instead knew she would have a massive headache with these two morons.

The school was huge. There were three buildings and two smaller ones, but somehow it still didn’t seem big enough considering all the students moving in every direction possible to make it to their classes on time. The hallways were packed and whilst Nami was side stepping and stopping for people, Luffy and Zoro moved with such fluidity and ease. It was obvious they’d been here for two weeks longer than her.

It was almost like a blur, as they moved from the ground floor, up to the second, through the whole second floor, only to go back down a smaller staircase at the other end of the floor. Nami began getting suspicious when they went through the same hallway again but maybe that was her imagination? They’d been there two weeks, and the school was huge. Everything looked the same. It was probably her mistake.

After looping round the second time, it suddenly clicked into place. They were idiots. Robin’s expression flashed in her mind again and Nami had to remind herself, that it was one of sympathy.

Time to take charge, she thought to herself, sighing.

Nami and Zoro were locked in a heated argument, with Luffy walking behind them laughing with his hands behind his head, not a care in the world. Luffy hadn’t even blinked when she’d stepped forward to question them, but it seemed to rub a sore spot for Zoro. He adamantly denied and carried onwards, through the second floor for a third time, refusing to use the tiny map. He looked at it as if it were Satan itself.

“I’m new, this is my first day, and yet I have a better understanding of how to get around this school when you’ve been here for two weeks?”

“Oi, new girl, I need to concentrate. You’re yapping and Luffy’s laughing is throwing me off.” Zoro glared behind them. “I said shut up Luffy. You clearly don’t know where you’re going either.”

“Oh, so you admit that you are lost?” Nami smugly looked up at the green haired boy.

The second bell rang, warning them they only had five minutes before lesson started. Any more teasing she had lined up flew out the window, she needed to sort these idiots out and quickly.

As she looked down at her map and up at the numbers on the door, she realised with dread that Zoro had been leading this whole time. Why did she trust these people? Surely the first impressions should have been a big enough hint.

“Zoro… we’re in the completely wrong building.”

He at least had the decency to flush and avert his gaze after that comment. She took the lead following that.

From his viewpoint behind, Luffy was pleased that the new girl was bonding with his best friend. She seemed like a nice person. Yup, she was staying, he’d made his mind up, he thought to himself.

With seconds to spare, Nami was in front of L540 and was giving instructions to Luffy about how to get himself and Zoro to their own classroom. She wasn’t about to be late for them and she definitely had more hope in Luffy, than Zoro, to deliver them to the correct classroom.

“Luffy, look at me and pay attention. Straight and then turn right. The third classroom on the right will be yours. Now hurry up.”

As she turned to go in, she gave them one last look. Why was there only Luffy walking up the hallway? Zoro had told her they both had the same class. Nami could only sigh and, with utter defeat, turned to look in the opposite direction.

“For god sake Zoro! I just gave you the directions. The other way! Follow Luffy, you directionless moron!”

The last sounds she heard before the door closed were Luffy laughing and Zoro stomping past her as she entered.

As first period ended, Nami sighed in relief. Geography wasn’t too bad, but she was so far behind from missing those two weeks. The teacher had been kind enough to set everyone else up with work and sat with her to get her up to date on what she needed to know and the materials she’d need to catch up. It definitely settled her to know the teacher was on her side.

Nami had her head down as she left, trying to orientate herself with where she needed to go next. In one hand was her tiny map and the other her timetable with her next class. From what she could make out, her next class was on the other side of campus. Who put together the timetables? Why couldn’t they see she’d basically have to run or know shortcuts to get there on time. Honestly.

She was brought out of her inner monologue when a hand touched her shoulder.

It was Luffy. Had he waited for her?

“I waited for you! Thanks for helping us find our room, without that we would have been late. Zoro’s useless,” his bright voice spoke, grin splitting across his face.

“Luffy, you didn’t know the way either,” She deadpanned. “Where is he, by the way? Did he get lost already?” She expected no less after their previous experience finding this building.

He laughed, completely ignoring her first comment. “Nope! He fell asleep in our class and the teacher wanted to speak to him after,” he said as he haphazardly swung the doors open to the outer building, oblivious that other students were dodging out of the way to avoid being hit, he was just looking at Nami. “Do you need help with finding your next class?”

Nami smiled, her first impression was correct. He was an idiot, but he seemed kind. He didn’t have to help her and yet here he was risking being late to his next lesson or missing out on some of his free period, all for someone he barely knew. “I appreciate the offer, but I get the impression you need more help than I do. What do you have next? Perhaps I can point you the right way?” They continued walking towards the main building

Suddenly Luffy was in her personal space and looking down at her timetable, completely ignoring whatever she had said, “Accountancy? Didn’t you just have geography? They’re not even related; do you not know what you want to do with your life?”

Okay. So, an idiot, kind and blunt. Although the bluntness might be because of the idiot part.

“I know what I want to do with my life!” She huffed at him. “I want to be a cartographer; I want to make maps of the world. Hence the geography a-levels but the college insisted on four options. I had to fill it with something else and I’m pretty good with money. By the way, I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself, I’m Nami.”

As she finished, she turned to look at Luffy, expecting him to look bored but he was looking all around her face as if she were the most interesting person to exist. Well, that was certainly nice.

However, he didn’t respond to a thing she had said, a second later he realised that she was staring at him, waiting for a response. Panicking, he blurted out, “Usopp is going that way. You can meet him again properly, when he’s not rolling around the floor.”

Nami could only imagine Usopp would not agree with Luffy’s explanation about him rolling around on the floor but she let it go, perhaps it was best to pick her battles with him. At least she could get to know Usopp better, he seemed the sanest out of this odd bunch so far.

“- and when I turned the corner on my way to the I.T building, they were arguing about someone being a cheat, I think it may have been him, and looked like they were about to fight. Naturally I stepped in like a hero and diffused the situation.” Usopp finished with pride, chest puffed.

She had no idea who Usopp was talking about, but he had some great gossip. Although it was clear he was a bit of a liar. At least he made it easy to pick apart what was gossip and what was a lie. Hm, the irony of his long nose wasn’t lost on her when paired with his lying behaviour.

However, compared on what she had come up against today, he was easily the most normal and incredibly friendly. He hadn’t even blinked when Luffy had come bounding up to him with Nami, especially when she had pinched Luffy’s cheek and lectured him for dragging her around again. Instead Usopp had beamed at her and filled her in on some great gossip that had been going on in the two weeks she had missed as they both walked up to the third floor.

The day had flown by as Luffy hung out with Nami and introduced her to his friends. When he had first seen her, he’d had a gut instinct that she was cool, and it turns out she is. She seemed super smart too and said some really funny things. She had the nicest smile too. He got the impression she liked him and his friends.

He’d walked with her to her fourth lesson and said he’d meet her after so she could sit with them at lunch. Nami could meet everyone else this way too! He was sure she’d fit right into the group.

As Luffy and Nami walked towards the cafeteria on the first floor, he was telling her about this cool move a guy did with his sword during the video he had watched in is history class the other day. He was about to continue but stopped as they arrived into the cafeteria.

It was already packed as Luffy was craning his head trying to see whether his friends had beaten him here and snagged a table. Just then he caught a flash of blue and took Nami’s hand as he ran through the cafeteria towards the rest of his friends. He was completely unaware that he was pushing people or using Nami as a weapon behind him to further push people as she tried to keep up or risk being completely dragged.

“GUUUUUUUYS!” He shouted as he drew closer.

He came to an immediate stop in front of them all, as Nami bumped into the back of him. When she stepped next to him, she had an almost evil look on her face, and he was keenly aware of her saying that she hated being dragged. Instead of saying anything, he moved on quickly in hopes of distracting her.

“Guys, this is… uuuuh…” Okay, think, think. He was pretty sure she had told him her name earlier, but he’d been distracted. Her hair was so cool, it was almost like fire and then he’d thought about how much Ace would probably like it too. Then she’d been so excited as she explained something, her face lighting up, it was very distracting for him. What had she been saying?

The people at the table could only sigh, the girl next to him looked irked and Luffy continuing to think was only adding to her irritation. She had clearly told him based on her look and he’d not listened.

“Oh, oh! It’s Nazi!” He yelped when he came face to face with Nami as she pulled on his cheeks.

“Who on earth would be called Nazi, huh? You take history, that’s an awful name! I told you earlier and you clearly didn’t listen. Nami. N-A-M-I,” and let go of his cheeks with a huff.

Before anyone could speak, a smooth voice started to speak, “Oh, delicate flower, how cruel life is that it has kept us apart up until now. Fate has now brought you to me and your beautiful presence can bring light upon my dark existence.” The blonde boy before her looked close to tears as he finished, going down on one knee, as one of his hands held hers.

“What a dork.”

The table started to snicker at that comment and Sanji was up on his feet in a flash, in front of Zoro and pulling at his collar as an argument broke out between them both.

Things seemed to somewhat calm down after that comment. Luffy watched as Nami introduced herself, properly this time, to the rest of those she hadn’t met and started comparing timetables with whole group.

Luffy realised he didn’t have any classes with Nami but did have a couple of spare periods that they could spend together. Nami and Usopp squealed over the fact they have business together but that seemed to be it for the group. They were all taking very different topics after all. It’s not like it mattered anyway, Luffy only shared some of his classes with Zoro and Robin and he still saw everyone else in-between.

Nami was tired. She’d had a good day, much better than what she’d expected, but the classes had been full on and with the knowledge of how much she still had to do, it weighed heavily on her.

What her previous teachers had said was true, A-levels really were a step up.

She didn’t have any more time to think about that, as Luffy barrelled into her locker, all smiles. “Let’s walk home together.”

At lunch, they’d been discussing how far away from the college they were. It turned out they all lived fairly close to each other, Luffy being the closest. He was only around the corner. She was surprised that he’d been listening at first, he’d looked far too busy shovelling food.

“Uh, yeah sure.” She tried to push that bad feeling down after their expedition around the school earlier but then, Zoro wouldn’t be with them, so it shouldn’t be too bad, right?

She screamed as the car barely missed them, car horn blaring and lights flashing in anger at their recklessness.

This was even worse than being lost with Zoro. Luffy was cackling away, having the time of his life.

It had started calmly enough, Nami had been telling Luffy about her day and how much work she had to do to catch up on. They’d crossed the first road safely but then his face had flashed mischievously, and he took off, grabbing her wrist. The rain definitely hadn’t helped, if anything it egged him on and Nami was trying not to faint. When she’d dropped her bag, Luffy was there in a heartbeat, picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder before a car got to it.

“Do you have a death wish?!” She panted, trying to catch her breath now they were stood in front of her house and not dodging cars. “Who taught you to cross the road?”

Luffy wasn’t fazed at all. “It was fun! Even you laughed when we dodged that puddle.”

She rolled her eyes but knew he had a point. In a crazy way, it had been fun and had taken her mind off of her stressful day. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just try to make it home in one piece.”

“I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning! We can walk together again.” He was now walking backwards, waving his hands above his head and saying goodbye.

“Yeah, 8am sharp! See you- wait, Luffy, you have my bag!”

“You can have it back tomorrow! Bye!”

“No, Luffy I need it tonight.” She started to walk towards him, but it just caused him to walk away quicker.

“Byeeeee!” He cheered loudly.

-------------------------------------------

What had she gotten herself into? There went her night of schoolwork.

Anyone who’s read School Days on FFN will recognise the last scene. How could I not include it? I love chaotic Luffy.

There’s not really going to be a huge plot or an end goal (Although I do have an ending in mind!). I remember reading a fic in a different fandom and theirs were all out of order, varying length, so I might do something like that. Gives me a bit more freedom and sound like fun.

Hope you enjoyed, until next time.

#LuNami #LuffyxNami #LuNa #Nami #Luffy #OPFanfic #one piece #fanfic

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rockshortage · 4 years

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*Cracks knuckles* Ow. Let's see, how about: A6, 16. B1, 12. C1, 2, 3, 5, 8. D4. E2, 3, 7. F2, 5, 10, 12 (Sorry, but also not sorry) I6. L1, 2, 4, and 9 :)

hoo boy that took a while

A6) Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

Ah, he questions himself a lot. Maybe he wasn’t listening well enough because he was too distracted by being anxious? Maybe he misinterpreted this event, because his background knowledge on it was lacking, he doesn’t know the full story and opinions from all sides, he’s not sure he can form a well educated opinion on this--

A16) Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?

Hector needs to do it himself for Science, because how else is he to truly know, if not from his own personal experience? Trusting what people tell you is good and all but gathering data yourself is better.

Unless we’re talking about raider politics, in which case there’s not really a good way for Hector to gather data without seriously endangering him and friends, so he’ll just listen to Gage.

B1) Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Generally, he believes it’s necessary to give people respect before you can expect it in return. He learns that many people do not in fact think the same way. He’ll still want to extend basic courtesy to them even if they’re assholes, unless they disrespect/piss him off to the extremes, or if their actions threaten his position and in turn the well-being of himself and friends.

B12) Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do?

Have a back and forth about it in his head – ah it’s not so bad it’s still fine, but then again he really wanted it differently… but he doesn’t wanna bother them and be entitled about it, but man… :( Might get close to pointing it out but chances are slim that he’ll actually get someone to correct the order. It’ll be disappointing but he’ll eat it.

C1) Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Eeeh, not a super strong one. His baseline are general societal morals and norms, like… help person good, kill person bad. Most of the time he’ll base his actions on what feels right for him and for his friends. He’ll consider: will doing this make me feel bad afterwards? Will it have a negative impact on other people, who don’t deserve it? Is that consequence worth it because it saves my own skin or helps/protects my friends?

C2) Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?

Bringing back the point about sacrificing for the greater good. He’d consider that the morally right thing to do because it impacts fewer people negatively. But making that sacrifice endangers his friends, whose lives for him personally are worth much more than an abstract crowd of people. So he chooses to not do the thing for the greater good and save his friends instead, and yes, he would feel very bad on the one hand, because oh boy. As far as most people are concerned, he did a horrible terrible thing and was extremely selfish and absolutely chose wrong. But on the plus side, and that’s a very big huge plus- he still has his friends. And still having his friends makes him feel less bad than how he would have felt if he didn’t have his friends anymore.

So uh… yes and no.

C3) Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

More or less. He can’t hang out well with people he completely disagrees with in every way, of course that’s not going to work. But Hector is… how to say… kinda boring when it comes to ideals and opinions and all that stuff. He just doesn’t have very strong ones in general. Which can make him a little bland and potentially spineless, but also pretty agreeable. As long as they don’t constantly shove their great big opinions in his face, they’ll get along well enough.

C5) Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

I think I kind of answered this in C2. Basic morals do get thrown out the window if friends are threatened, or if he gets pissed off enough. He’d have to be really pissed off though. As well as being post having-grown-a-spine(-at-least-partially). Hurting people bad but being insufferable to Hector also bad so guess what fucker

C8) Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

Again a little tricky because I’m having trouble coming up with a scenario that would help me make up my mind with a definite answer. I’m leaning more towards a practical approach 1) because Hector is more of a realist/pessimist in general, 2) he doesn’t want to like… be overly demanding

D4) Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?

The more he thinks about it the more meaningless life seems to get for someone like him. Solution: don’t think about it! Repress that shit because it’s not like you can do anything about it anyway. Also an involuntary solution but one that helps nonetheless: have shit memory so that you don’t feel like you’ve lived too many lifetimes.

If you were to ask him, the answer you get completely depends on the headspace he’s in at the moment. If he’s just vibing, going about his day and things are going well then yeah! Immortality isn’t so bad. If you catch him on an off day, things aren’t going so well, maybe he just thought about having to deal with losing his friends eventually… then you obviously get the opposite answer.

E2) Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

I know I talked about this before and I grouped them from strong to medium to weak but I can’t for the life of me find the post anymore (thanks tumblr for your useless garbage search and tagging features). So I can’t even check if I’m still on the same wavelength with past me :v

From strongest to weakest we have…

Logical-mathematical

Spatial

Linguistic

Bodily-kinesthetic

Musical

Naturalist

Interpersonal

Existential

Intrapersonal

E3) How many languages do they speak?

Three… and a half.

The half language being Swiss German, because I don’t know what the fuck it is even after graduating from language uni

The others: Standard German, English, and French, from strongest to weakest.

E7) Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?

Yes, yes, and yes. He’s very good at taking notes considering most of science is documentation. And even now when he’s not doing a lot of Formal Science things, he still writes in his journal almost daily, summing up events and making notes of important things. He gets nervous with tests with all the self doubt if he really prepared well enough and the unpredictability of the questions that will be asked, but once the pen is in his hand, he just blazes through it.

F2) What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Someplace underground, safe and sturdy like a vault. Industrial aesthetic is welcome and he wants to have plenty of space, but it shouldn’t feel huge and empty. Needs to be homey, even if it might feel a little rustic to the average person. Having it built into a mountain would be sick, so he still has the perfect protection from the sun, but he doesn’t have to crawl out of a hole in the ground like some kind of worm – instead he opens the door and gets the most amazing view immediately.

… and I promise, only after writing the above did I remember that he pretty much lives in a mountain already, just a plastic one. Close enough.

F5) How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Quite handy indeed. He can fix most things, he usually just needs some time to (re-)familiarize himself with the object and its functions. A lot of it also involves trial and error, but he’ll figure it out eventually.

F10) Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

He’d actually be really good at pen/pencil drawing, what with making technical illustrations and blueprints of Science Stuff, but it’s not a skill that’s applied in an artsy setting. When the goal is to draw for the sake of drawing, evoking emotion, or paint with a brush, that’s probably when shit would fall apart. I can’t remember who the artist was, but it reminds me of this little comic about Paladin Danse – in which he’s extremely good at technical drawings but then he attempts to draw a dog and it just looks…wrong.

Now with music, he’s more likely to engage in it in an artful way. He likes to sing, even if he very rarely does it now that he has people around him more often than not. Before, he’d just be alone in his lonely place and sing and scream to his heart’s content, but now he’s too awkward to do it, because someone might hear him. He is pretty good at it though, considering how much alone time he’s had to practice.

F12) Would they enjoy a theme park?

The rides and junk food? Yes absolutely. But the giant crowd and every little consequence it entails, nope, no thank you, he’ll just leave it be.

You bet he’s gonna go on the rides at nuka world though once they got them back up and working, because the crowd isn’t as big as pre-war and he’s the fucking overboss and can skip lines and restrict access to others however he damn pleases.

I6) Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?

He can, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. The first month or so at nuka world he almost exclusively lives off of some shitty nutrient bars. In some scenarios, food just exists as sustenance and not as something to be enjoyed.

In a preferable scenario though, it is to be enjoyed. And I think while he would get bored of it after a while, it’d take longer than for the average person. And even then, he’s just happy he can eat something enjoyable at whatever pace he likes instead of having to scarf down Compressed Nutrient

L1) How have your characters changed since you created them?

He stopped existing in a void, which is a pretty damn big change. Now he has a whole world and other characters to interact with, that contribute to shaping and developing his personality.

L2) What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Oof, this is hard. Maybe… getting to know yourself? Accepting change, personal growth?

L4) Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

I’m actually not sure sjdfsdnsv

Like yes he is sweet bean who must be protected, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a weird little old man. I guess if we can just chill listening to music and he can go off about crustaceans or something and we speak The Horrible Language, why the fuck not

L9) How did you come up with your OC?

Masks cool. Me especially like gas masks. Unhinged science characters also cool. Make generic but still sliiiightly unique design and make it a point to not have him be a young pretty boy character despite having immortality. Add lots of weaknesses to compensate for the immortality. Add science personality things and complete the picture with projections of my own personality. Boom, you’ve got yourself the beginnings of a Hector

#hector messerli #i did not proofread please wish me luck from the future #corvidexoskeleton #ask meme #ask #hector ref

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anticallouts · 4 years

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Question. does your idea of being anti-callouts also include folks of different belief systems that would involve, say, a much narrower view of sexual morality, or are they fair game to be called out as homophobes and all that just because of their beliefs, even if they’ve never actually displayed any kind of discriminatory behavior? Or what about those who sided with or even remotely supported trump or are from MAGA groups? Are they outside the scope of your anti-callout mission too? Asking cuz imo it’s hypocritical to say you’re anti-callouts but then think its ok for these folks to be ostracized and bullied cuz “they need to be held accountable” for beliefs that you don’t agree with and more often than not, don’t fully understand what they believe or why. And I’m not talking about stuff they said decades ago, I’m talking about present day stuff.

First, I will direct you back to this post, specifically the ending paragraph:

One important thing to internalize is that ignorance doesn’t make you a bad person. This goes for judging your own actions as well as others’. It’s okay to constantly be learning and adapting your behavior based on new information. If you find out from discourse that you had been using hurtful language or promoting a hurtful idea, it doesn’t mean you were secretly a bad person all along. It just means you didn’t know. In an ideal world, we would all be patient and forgiving with people who weren’t acting in bad faith, but unfortunately this is Tumblr. Just try to do your best, and take breaks if you need them.

The key point here is ‘in bad faith’. This blog, and the general disagreement in fandom re: callout culture, usually stems from the idea that it is bad to hold people with taste in unpopular fictional ships to the same standard as unrepentant abusers, pedophiles, racists, and homophobes. The point is not that those categories of people aren’t in themselves problematic, just that shippers shouldn’t get tacked on to that list for liking anime boy 1 and anime boy 2, nor should ANYONE get tacked onto that list based on rumors or anon messages if there is actually no evidence of wrongdoing.

We can debate until the cows come home about what ‘counts’ as bigotry and the right way to deal with microaggressions, but for this post (and because you mentioned MAGA and homophobic Christianity) I’m going to assume you’re talking about standard, run-of-the-mill bigotry. The kind you can look at and easily understand exactly why it is hurtful.

Being against callout culture is not the same thing as being against all callouts, all the time, for any reason. (I did not name this blog, I inherited it. I am now considering a revised URL if that is the impression this one gives.)

I am never going to defend a homophobe. I am never going to defend a racist. If someone comes to me with a tweet from a homophobe’s twitter acct that says ‘God says all lesbians are abominations but I’m not homophobic tho it’s just what the Bible says’ I’m not going to assume they’re an infant who doesn’t understand logic or empathy or critical thinking. I’m gonna block them. If they’re famous, I’m gonna show my friends and my friends are also gonna block them and also possibly talk shit about them on Twitter because they’re bajillionares and it doesn’t matter.

(Except really I encourage people not to do this - not because it’s morally wrong, but because they can use their much larger platform to harass you if they feel like it. See John Boyega’s behavior towards the women who were hurt by his misogynistic language as an example.)

Now, on a smaller scale, if they’re just a regular old member of a fandom? If it turns out everyone blocks them because they won’t stop talking about how much they hate the gays and Jews and SJWs and the fandom is full of gays and Jews and SJWs who don’t want to listen to it, that’s not ostracization, that’s quality control. No one gets to complain that other people won’t listen to their opinions, and that’s not what this blog is advocating for.

I am extremely pro-block. I block people for ALL KINDS of things. I see a comment in the notes of a post I do not vibe with? Block. Don’t care if that user has never spoken to me in my life. I am the arbiter of my fandom experience, as is everyone else.

Furthermore, I want to address what seems to me to be the core of your complaint here:

“... even if they’ve never actually displayed any kind of discriminatory behavior?”

See, this is a bit logically inconsistent and it makes me wonder if this ask was not sent in good faith, but rather to try and catch me in a ‘gotcha, so much for the tolerant left’ type of way.

If someone is not displaying any kind of discriminatory behavior, then they fall under the ‘don’t make baseless callouts’ protection. There’s no evidence of any wrongdoing, no victim, no crime. Thinking gay people are horrible is, like, wrong, but as long as they keep that to themselves when engaging with others, fine. However, the fact that someone is being called out for open homophobia or racism means that... Hm... how do I put this... they kind of are displaying discriminatory behavior, my dude.

If they’re 12 years old and repeating what their racist dad said or homophobic pastor said, then yeah, don’t harass them. Don’t harass anyone, actually, but I am not Fandom God and I don’t control the whims or ways of the internet denizens so I can’t really do anything about that. Harassment doesn’t actually accomplish anything and is a waste of energy. Report them if they’re breaking the TOS and move on. (See my pro-block stance above for the acceptable alternative. Blocking! It’s like Herd Immunity, for fandoms.)

But everyone else in the fandom space has a right to warn each other ‘hey, there’s a 12 year old over there with no filter and they’re super racist, here’s their tweets.’

If they’re an adult and they’re doing that? As you said, present day stuff? It is completely fair game for their tweets or posts to be catalogued and shared as proof that they are a clear and present danger to other people in the fandom. Racists and homophobes have this nasty little habit of attempting to hurt people they hate, fandom needs ways to self-regulate and keep itself safe from actual harmful bigots.

There’s also a lot to be said about expecting vulnerable members of the community to do all the work educating people who are actively being malicious towards them in the hope that one comment will break through their willful ignorance and show them the light of human decency and teach them how to be good people and decent fans. If someone feels bad that other people don’t like them because of their homophobic beliefs, it’s not the fandom’s job to take them under wing and teach them why homophobia is wrong. None of us came out the womb knowing how to treat people; if the majority of us could figure it out by cultural osmosis, so can our racist homophobic strawman here. Either by being told directly, or by seeing that bigots are not welcome and making the single necessary logical leap that maybe it’s because homophobia/racism/etc hurts people and no one else likes being hurt.

So, to break it down:

Private racists: not posting anything racist, not harassing poc in the fandom, how would you ever know? Gross, but ultimately harmless. Can’t do anything about them, hopefully they see enough posts about why racism is bad to finally change their ways.

Past racists: said some dumb racist shit in the past, apologized, aren’t currently doing anything racist? Leave them alone. Be thankful. Hope that other people look to them as an example in learning and humility and growth.

Active racists: do not deserve your pity or protection. Learn to treat other people with respect or get off the internet. Shed no tears when they end up blocked by 90% of the fandom and anyone else with a brain. Their ignorance does not supersede everyone else’s right to feel safe and welcome in a community. Much like with private racists, I hope they learn (with a more direct lesson) that no one likes racists or wants to hang out with them and if they want friends they should learn to treat others as human beings.

#mod fox #racism #homophobia #callout culture #responses

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prodigalscns · 4 years

Photo

( RUDY PANKOW. TWENTY FIVE. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ) in texas, MONROE ST. THOMAS is known to most as ROE. they have been riding with the diablos for THREE YEARS. they’re originally from ISLE OF PALMS, SOUTH CAROLINA and the RIDER is known to be very CYNICAL & SARCASTIC but the other club members will tell you they are CREATIVE & PERCEPTIVE. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do BLACK HONEY by THRICE is usually heard blasting. ( the softest brush of bruised knuckles across the jawline, the squeal of tires from the getaway car & praying for rain to wash the blood away. )

BASIC

FULL NAME: Monroe James St. Thomas.

DATE OF BIRTH: 26 July.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Isle of Palms, South Carolina.

ZODIAC: Leo.

GENDER: Cis Male.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: He/Him.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual.

RELIGION/SPIRITUAL BELIEF: Lapsed Catholic.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Arabic, ASL.

PHYSICAL

HAIR COLOUR: Blonde.

EYE COLOUR: Blue.

WEIGHT: 67 kg / 147 lbs.

HEIGHT: Six Feet, Two Inches (6'2).

BODY TYPE: Lean/Fit, yet muscular.

TATTOOS: Dates marked in roman numerals on both wrists. “Trust your struggle” in his mothers cursive writing across his collar bone (right side). Geometric beach scene arm band, left arm. Custom side piece designed with his older brother, similar to this. Outline of the city of Dallas over his heart.

PIERCINGS: Nose, Left side. Ears ( 8g ).

SCARS & DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Upside down horseshoe shaped birthmark, right shoulder blade. Old grease burns on forearms, several small work related scars decorating hands and palms. Several faded scars that look like glass shards across back and shoulder blades, along with a pronounced yet old scar stretching the side that is not covered with the tattoo.

ACCENT/TONE: All deep bass and the kind of baritone that can warm even the coldest night, with a touch of twang that is often used to his advantage. He knows he sounds good, and he’s just pretty enough for some people to let him keep talking, no matter what he may be saying.

DOMINANT HAND: Right. However, Monroe is almost comfortable enough to call himself ambidextrous due to circumstances that surround his childhood, and him having to learn to use his left for quite some time.

PERSONALITY && INSIGHT

POSITIVE: Protective, Loyal, Creative, Observant, Charming, Dedicated, Witty.

NEGATIVE: Sarcastic, Cynical, Possessive, Reckless, Outspoken, Volatile.

VICES: Cursing, Pretty Faces, Perfectly Rolled Blunts, Open Space, Indulgence.

HABITS: His accent gets a little bit more pronounced the drunker he gets, especially where tequila is involved. Toying with the class ring that is constantly tied around his neck, he never takes it off. The tendency to fidget or avoid questions that he doesn’t want to answer.

FAMILIAL

MOTHER: Magdalena “Maggie” St. Thomas, Deceased.

FATHER: Bradley St. Thomas, Absent since age 12.

SIBLINGS: Smith St. Thomas (Brother, Oldest), Kase St. Thomas (Brother, Youngest), Dallas St. Thomas (Sister, Fraternal Twin, Deceased.)

PETS: Three adopted dogs (Miles, Ella, and Dizzy).

BIOGRAPHY

The middle children are the ones that are born with tragedy in their bones. They always said that Monroe absorbed all his sisters hurt in the womb, his very first act somehow becoming one of protection. To him, the statement now rang with bittersweet irony, but that’s the story’s tendency to get ahead of itself. In the beginning they were the perfect picture of the American dream, the one that was bought and sold, embraced with open arms. Sure, the floors in the old beach house were always dirty, and his father worked longer than he ever should have had to in order to keep their plates full, but they made it. Maggie started working again after the kids had all started school, breathing a sigh of relief with Kase finally passed that milestone birthday that would allowed her to begin taking the steps to contribute.

By then, his older brother had already begun taking on the family’s burdens, a nervous habit that had long since been coined as the family curse. He knew now that it was guilt that drove him to take that step, a strange since of misplaced shamed in the secret he was about to reveal to them all. The night that the words left his lips, they all remember it differently. It was a confessional that should have been met with love and support, but the scar that the two eldest boys were left with was one that had no chance at healing. The only part of the memory that seemed intent on sticking around was the sound of skin meeting skin in a vicious chorus, and the darkening bruise that formed as a direct result of the backhand that would eventually become the soundtrack to their demise.

That’s right, his brother came out to his family, and Bradley’s first reaction was to take his feelings out on Smith physically, in front of the entire family. It didn’t matter if the bible had fanned the flames of his intolerance, or taught him some misplaced wrong rooted in sexuality, what did matter? Maggie wasn’t going to stand for it. Two weeks later, Bradley left without a word, or a single cent, in his wake. The abandonment of his family seemed easy, and they never received the decency of an apology or even the watchful eye of shame. Nothing, not a single word, and his name became a welcomed taboo in the story, dad was the dirtiest curse word to ever leave any of their lips.

Monroe didn’t talk about the nightmares that plagued him in the weeks after, but Smith always seemed to be awake right in time to shake him out of them. The silent agreement to keep secrets between siblings, a small bond that eventually cemented the lines of love between the two. It was no surprise to anyone that he followed his brothers bravery, coming out in a different way, with a different result: he was more into people, rather than the concern with their gender. who, they were, not what. There were welcome arms, acceptance was offered in free fall, because he needed it, and maybe it was that helped them all heal from the things that they still didn’t know how to speak of. What it didn’t do, was fill the gap that was created by their fathers (if you could even call him that) absence. Eventually, all five of them learned what it was like to be hungry, all the things that Maggie had desperately been trying to keep them away from. Some lessons weren’t meant to be learned, she’d say.

Smith graduated high school the same year, a full ride scholarship meaning that Monroe was the next to fall victim to the aforementioned curse that came with crushing weight on the shoulders of every member, but especially him. Life seemed to have a fucked up way of changing lanes, though. Maggie was running late, in the rain, to one of her many jobs. It was an unfortunate side effect of her newly minted single motherhood, after all. Dallas was in the car, to be dropped off at the baby sitter, but they would never make it there. The skidding sound of wet tires on warm asphalt, the high pitched screams of metal twisting metal, it all added another track added to the symphony of this tragedy.

You’re so lucky. It’s a miracle. The statements are repeated over and over, like a broken record, but they turn his stomach every time. A miracle, any God, would have either sent him away with his sister, the one he had been born trying to protect, and his mother, who would have died for him time and time again. The first time he told this to a therapist, the change in their expression announced what would be his first forced commitment, something that no one expected, and it tore all his buried scars wide open. Maybe that’s why they say rehab always feels like you’re bleeding out.

Two months later, the only thing he was permitted out for was the funeral. His brothers came to visit three times a week, and often, they would cling to each other like the the last straws left in what felt like a burning building. After month three, he was released with false promises of therapy, with fake smiles that said he would take care of it, and the only reason he did seek out a way to cope was to honor the memory of his mother. Speaking of her memory, the one thing the remaining pieces of their broken family didn’t see coming, was the settlement from the other driver’s family, or his mother’s life insurance policies. Some people said their new money was a blessing.

Still far too young to take care of themselves in the eyes of the state, they were shipped off to Texas, an uncle that was willing to take them on, if only because of the dollar signs attached to their names. It was no surprise that his family outside of the ones he’d lost were trash, but when that went so far as to leave the boys out in the cold, there wasn’t much he could do. He’d turned to the club for help, sleeping on the floor in the clubhouse with his younger brother until he was old enough to prospect. The only family he needed then, outside of his brothers, was the club.

Much to everyone’s surprise, he inherited a decent sum of money when he turned twenty one, but that was holed away from when he would inevitability need it. Their lifestyle was not kind, nor was it forgiving, and eventually he would need to pay for the outlet to his rage, pay for the way he’d forgotten what he’d learned in rehab, and pay for the sins he’d committed in the name of both family and survival. The settlement money was a secret he didn’t tell, not even to the club, but perhaps he should have. His memories weren’t for public display, he told himself. His tragedy didn’t need to be played out next to the soundtrack of his demise. Instead, lips would remain sealed, focusing on the here and now, rather than the scars that still stung.

#[ monroe st. thomas | about. ]#rideintro.

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 years

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What Clouds The Mind - fic

For @lil-nest! Thank you so so much for donating! Their reward request was an alternative first meeting between Dami and Tim where Dami decides it will be profitable to gain Tim's trust (better to defeat him later) and then accidentally befriends him.

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, bits of Dick, Jason and Cass Summary: He was going to destroy Tim Drake one day, he thought. A/N: Slight references to Batman&Son, Resurrection of Ra’s al Ghul and some Red Robin storyline that I THINK happened. Like mentioned, they aren’t the best of friends but still pretty okay. The Hit List arc never happens. Dick wanted them to be closer, like he was with both of them, that’s why he’s all smiley at the end. Tim doesn’t let anyone untie Damian until he can coddle him for like ever. Dick takes lots of pictures. Tim becomes extra protective of Damian after this, Damian a little mellower. Dick is a happy big brother.

“Umm…‘Here on my world, we call this gesture a handshake…’”

Damian bit his tongue, pressed his lips together as tight as he could. He hated him already, this one called Robin. He was a buffoon, an imbecile. How dare he mock an al Ghul. How dare he patronize him like this.

Damian should kill him. He’s killed for less. He was expected to kill for less.

…But.

His grandfather spoke highly of this Tim Drake. Clearly, his father respected him, if they were partners. If he trusted this…child with his life.

There was something about Timothy Drake. There had to be, for the Demon’s Head and Batman to be so…enamored.

And if he killed Robin now, he’d never find out what that something was.

He stared at the proffered hand, pursed his lips a little bit. Drake kept that condescending smirk on his face, watching Damian just as carefully.

…Defeat would have to come later. Damian had to know what made this lanky teenager so special in the first place, before he destroyed him.

So he returned the grin with a bitter one of his own, and shook Tim Drake’s hand.

This…this wasn’t…

What was this?

He and Grayson had gotten word that Ra’s was in town. It was a little odd, but not unexpected. Damian had defected after all, so he was probably here to kill him, teach him a lesson, or drag him kicking and screaming back into the League.

It appeared to be Grayson’s first thought as well, for as soon as he signed off with Oracle, Batman turned to him and made him swear to never leave his side. Made the ridiculous and overly sentimental oath that he wouldn’t let Ra’s or Talia or anyone hurt Damian ever again. That no one was taking Robin from Batman; over his dead body.

Damian had scoffed at that.

But then Oracle came crackling back over the line with more information. That through maps and trajectories and other obvious indicators – it was clear that Ra’s al Ghul’s target was the Red Robin.

And instantly, Damian’s stomach has sunk.

But why? Why was he suddenly feeling dread and concern and…fear? More fear than he’d ever felt for himself, or even Grayson or his father?

Was it because he thought Ra’s wanted Red Robin to work with him in his crusade? Was it because there was the chance that Ra’s really was here to take Damian down, and that Drake could – or would – sell him out immediately? Or was it because his grandfather was going to kill Drake before he got the chance to?

And maybe that was the dread – because Damian knew it was none of those things.

It was because he didn’t want Drake to die. He didn’t want his grandfather to kill him. He didn’t want anyone to kill him.

And for the first time he realized – not even himself.

But…this didn’t make sense? Sure, he and Drake were cordial. Got along well enough, with only a little amount of tension over the Robin mantle. Enjoyed silence over tea or research. Could stand being in the same room.

But Damian was only doing this to learn about his predecessor. Only to learn his weaknesses and gain his trust, so it was that much sweeter when he delivered that final blow.

…Right?

Because it’s not like they were truly friends. It’s not like they were actually family. Actually brothers, despite all of Grayson’s flowery words and wistful thoughts.

…

…Right??

As Oracle continued to explain locations and evidence and even motives, Damian tuned her out, more focused on the churning of his stomach, the speed of his heart, the want to pray to any god he knew of to stop this now before it’s too late.

Grayson said something, he didn’t hear what, and Damian found himself agreeing to the begged request of ‘please stay here no matter what you hear or see, and get the med bay ready for Tim.’ Watched absently as Grayson ran as fast as he could to save his brother from certain doom.

…Their brother?

The machines beeped around him, the chatter on the open comm. line a low buzz. Damian just stared at the tunnel Grayson had just sped their Batmobile through.

…

……

…Right?

Damian was livid. Damian was…petrified.

This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what he ever wanted.

Ra’s had tried this before, tried to get to Damian and Tim, pit them against each other, make Batman choose who he loved more, who he’d sacrifice to be the next vessel for the Demon’s Head.

But he didn’t get this far last time. Batman – Bruce – had made sure of that. And his mother was there to protect him, leaving Grayson and his father to protect Tim. So it was all fine. Everyone lived and went home. Ra’s was made a fool and went into hiding. The end.

But this time.

This time Bruce Wayne was dead. This time Talia al Ghul had disowned him and disappeared. This time Ra’s thought ahead, and took out Grayson and Brown and anyone who might save them first, before coming for them.

So now here they were, each tied up like animals for slaughter, dumped next to each other on the floor like trash, while Ra’s loomed over them, thinking out loud while he made his decision.

One would become his new vessel. The other would die. Probably. He was still deciding that.

And for all Damian’s own personal turmoil, Drake looked poised and prepared. There was no fear in his face, or weakness in his already beaten body. He just stared at Ra’s in near boredom.

Damian was almost jealous of that. Jealous of the time he could do that, and would. Was silently cursing Grayson for taking him in and undoing all his training, unleashing his emotions and allowing him to feel them.

But Damian was distracted in his regret. Was distracted staring at Drake, and drowning in how much better the older was than him. Reveling in the realization that…maybe he didn’t hate him as much as he told himself upon that first meeting. Lamenting that he didn’t want to destroy Red Robin, didn’t want to kill him at all. He just wanted to go home. Wanted to go home and be with his family. His brothers.

So he was confused when the color suddenly drained from Drake’s face. When Drake’s eyes widened and he looked over at Damian in terror.

“…Yes.” Ra’s hummed. Damian blinked and looked up at him. “I think I choose Timothy.”

Drake gaped, shaking his head. “Ra’s.” He tried. “Ra’s, come on. You…you can’t. He’s your grandson, you’re not going to…”

Ra’s snapped, and called to the guards at the doors. “Please bring me my sword.”

“Sword…” Tim gasped, wriggling in his bonds now. “What…what do you need that for…?”

“If he’s not going to be my vessel then I have no use for him.” Ra’s shrugged. “And things you have no use for, you dispose of.”

Drake was full-on thrashing now. Trying to squirm over to Damian, though what he was going to do when he got there, Damian didn’t know.

He still wasn’t fully focused himself, though. Because his heart was sad now. Not for himself, but for Drake. Because, honestly, he’d rather death than being his grandfather’s vessel. It was a painful process, an immortal torture. Drake would be alive, physically. But mentally, spiritually, he’d have no control. Would be in a cage in his mind, a dark lonely void, screaming forever.

In truth, Damian was the winner of this. Death was easy.

He wouldn’t wish being a vessel on his worst enemy. And Drake was not his worst enemy. Drake was his…

The sword arrived, presented to Ra’s like it was sacred. Drake was shouting now. Pleading. He’s only a kid, he cried, I can’t let you do this.

Damian only glanced up as Ra’s raised the sword.

“A suggestion?” Damian asked quietly, before the blade came crashing down along his throat. Ra’s paused in position for a moment, then lowered the weapon.

“As a last request, I’ll grant you that.” Ra’s agreed.

“Make me your vessel. I will go freely.” Damian offered. “And in exchange, you let Red Robin live, and return to Gotham.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw Drake’s jaw drop. Even Ra’s had the decency to look mildly surprised.

“…I know what being your vessel entails. I know what the process is. It is painful, bloody, dark and everlasting.” Damian pushed. “…And I will not let you hurt him.”

Drake was silently shaking his head again. There were tears in his eyes. Damian didn’t quite understand why.

Ra’s frowned. “The circus boy has done quite a number on you, hasn’t he?”

Damian shrugged.

Ra’s looked at Tim, who seemed to be still in shock. But he looked up at Ra’s. “Don’t.”

“Honestly, Detective, I don’t wish to.” Ra’s admitted. “After all, you are stronger, wiser and older. Much better of a use to me than this scrawny child.” He looked back to Damian. “But he is my grandson. And even if I wasn’t considering his offer – this is what he was bred for.”

“No. No.” Tim shouted, kicking his bound feet again. “I can’t- I won’t-” He looked at Damian angrily. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Damian didn’t answer, because that was a question he’d been asking himself for years.

“Consider, Grandfather.” Damian continued. “If you let Drake live, there is still the chance he will join you as an advisor. Isn’t that something you’ve always wanted?”

“Perhaps.” Ra’s agreed.

“And two bodies are always better than one.” Damian explained. “Then you’d have me as your vessel, and Drake as your right-hand man – the most successful scenario.”

“Though unlikely.” Ra’s looked at Tim once more.

“But not impossible.” Damian glanced at Tim too. Not his face, but at the wounds Ra’s had already inflicted, ignoring the pain of his identical ones. “Give him a few years, Grandfather. He’ll come around.”

“Oh I’m sure.” Ra’s hummed. There was silence for a minute. Then a loud sniff, and Ra’s shifted his sword to the other hand. “Alright, Damian. I’ll take your suggestion.”

“No.” Tim screamed. “No, no, no, no-”

Suddenly - shouts from the hallway. Thumps, cracks…gun shots?

Then the room’s door was kicked in – literally – to reveal a hobbling, bloody, injured, yet fiercely determined, Batman, flanked by one Black Bat and Red Hood.

“Mine.” Grayson hissed, limping forward. “How fucking dare you take my-”

“Shut up, Dick.” Jason growled from behind his helmet, stepping forward and shooting in the Demon’s Head’s direction.

As Ra’s blocked the shots with his sword, or ducked out of the way, more assassins entered the room, and an instant war erupted. Cassandra jumped into action, Jason kept shooting, and Dick fought as he slowly made his way towards them.

“Get me first, Dick!” Tim yelled over the noise. Dick seemed to nod, shifting a little to head his direction. And as he crouched and pulled a knife to cut Tim’s ropes, Tim glared over at Damian, “And do not get Damian’s.”

“What…?” Dick mumbled, glancing over. “Tim, he’s…”

“I’ll get him out, don’t worry.” Tim promised. “I’m just pretty sure if you untie him, he’ll continue to be an idiot and go sacrifice himself for me again anyway.”

Dick looked between them for a moment, in absolute confusion, then shook his head, the hints of a knowing smile flashing on his bruised face. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Hey, that’s-” But by the time Damian got that far, Tim was free and lunging at him.

“The ship is waiting outside.” Dick explained, as Tim scooped Damian up in his arms. “We’re not here to defeat Ra’s right now. I can barely move and our numbers are too small. But as soon as I know you and Damian are safe, Bat, Hood and I are right behind you.”

“I’ll give you four minutes and then I’m coming back.” Tim snapped, but turned to obey Dick’s orders anyway. They exited the fray to the sound of Dick laughing.

As soon as they were out of the building, and the waiting jet was in sight, Tim huffed. “What the hell was that back there?”

Damian, who wanted to squirm and pout and be as indignant as possible, but knew he couldn’t, not still bound as he was, just shrugged. “I just wanted my brother to get home safe.”

Tim didn’t respond to that. But when they reached the ship, and Damian felt a small kiss pressed against the side of his head, he didn’t say anything either. Just settled into the comfort of his brother’s arms.

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #Ra's al Ghul #dick grayson

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kokobussy · 6 years

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Untitled 2 - Baekhyun Smut

Ahh thanks for the request! I really appreciate it. I’m sorry this one took so long. I’m balancing school, an internship, a part-time job so I’ve been MIA for a bit, but it’s finally here!

Warning: Smut, Oppa kink, Spanking, Barebacking

Honestly, you can’t even remember what you said to make him this angry, this pouty. You think it was some stupid joke about Baekhyun’s height or how he lost the match to Minseok who doesn’t even play video games, or maybe it’s the fact that you refuse to call him “Oppa” despite his insistence over the few months you’ve been dating. Even though you’re only a few hours younger than Baekhyun, separated by time zones and pure chance, he still lords the fact that he’s technically older over you. If you asked him a question about something, anything, he’d coo and pinch your cheeks while talking about much older he is and therefore wiser. If you couldn’t manage to open a jar or reach something on a top shelf, Baekhyun would pat your head and assist you even though he’s only a few inches taller than you himself. If you’re out with friends at a bar and you get carded, Baekhyun calls you a baby and demands that you act “cute” for the rest of the night. Your boyfriend makes sure to rub the fact that you’re younger in your face every single chance he gets. Is it incredibly annoying? Definitely. Is it incredibly annoying but also endearing and sweet? No. No, it isn’t. So because Baekhyun does this, you refuse to call him Oppa or anything close to that. You call him “Baek” or “Babe”, blaming your foreignness on your refusal to use the word rather than the fact that you simply didn’t want to. Because he messed with you relentlessly, you messed with him, but maybe this time you took it too far or said a few jokes too many.

Regardless of what it is that initially made him upset, Baekhyun is uncharacteristically quiet now. You’re both playing Street Fighter with Minseok and Jongdae at the dorm. After running a series of errands and procrastinating on said errands before only completing one or two, you came to the dorm just as the sun fell. It’s well into the evening now, time spent with Baekhyun always went by so fast, and you’ve been refusing to teach Jongdae and Minseok the controls so they could stand a fighting chance. It might be cheating, it definitely is cheating, but watching Minseok fume with anger and Jongdae rant about the unfairness of it all is worth it. But now Baekhyun isn’t laughing at your jokes anymore or chiming in with Jongdae when he marvels about the graphics of this particular cutscene. He just sits there and stews in his anger without giving you a reason why. You nudge gently, looking at him in concern briefly, before shrugging it off. Baekhyun’s an adult and if he wants to tell you what’s wrong then he will eventually.

When the next match begins, you do your best to pull out every single combo in the book to absolutely annihilate Minseok this round. Just as you begin Blanka’s Shout of Earth, you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but right in your peripheral, you can see that Baekhyun’s eyes are unmoving. After successfully landing a triple combo on Jongdae, you chance a look at your boyfriend and find a mischevious glint in his eye. Minseok and Jongdae proceed to tag team Baekhyun’s unmoving character like the assholes they are, but Baekhyun doesn’t care. He isn’t bothered in the slightest. There’s something about that mischief that makes you apprehensive, but also curious to find where it leads. At this point, a smile slowly begins to spread on his face as his idea festers and develops into something that you probably won’t be able to control.

“What?” you ask as your fingers rapidly create combos you didn’t even know existed to take the two boys down. Baekhyun has the decency to wait until you singlehandedly kill Jongdae and Minseok, their yells of anguish and complaints filling the living room, before grabbing your wrist and pulling you off the couch along with him.

He doesn’t give a response or explain anything to his bandmates. Baekhyun just guides you to his room and promptly closes the door once you’re inside. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him sit on the edge of his bed before looking up at you. “C’mere,” he says, patting his lap with a smile. Instinctively you walk over to your boyfriend, skepticism and trepidation evident in your steps, and stand between his spread legs. You don’t realize that the Playstation controller is still in your hand until Baekhyun gently takes it and tosses it on the floor. His fingers find their way to the waistband of your shorts, slowly tugging until you get the hint. Oh. It doesn’t take much effort. Your shorts and underwear are pooled around your feet in no time, but for some reason, you’re still on edge. If Baekhyun just wanted a quickie he would’ve said so. Albeit you’ve only been dating for a short period of time, but when he’s horny he’s pretty predictable. Giggles of a certain pitch, lingering hands, and a long “Baby~” in your ear let you know that he’s needy and just how needy he is. But there wasn’t any of that today. So you stand here in front of him, t-shirt hanging off your shoulder, waiting for his next move.

It’s all a blur from there.

You have no idea how he did it. Baekhyun musters strength you didn’t know he had to manhandle you over his lap. In your morbid curiosity you sort of just let him adjust you, your legs laying on the bed while your arms support your upper half on the other side. Your ass, bare, now lies perfectly in front of Baekhyun to ogle and fondle.

Except that’s not what he wants to do.

He doesn’t want to just touch you, to worship your body like he usually does. There’s an intent behind this action that you can’t entirely place until it’s happening. The first slap entirely catches you off guard, a yelp bubbling out of your mouth before you can catch it. Baekhyun hums to himself, taking the time to squeeze the supple flesh in front of him, and says, ”I know we’re still getting used to each other, but if this is gonna work you’re going to have to be respectful-” Respectful? You laugh a little too loudly, a little too pointedly, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being. “Baek, get off of m-”

A sharp pain bites at the back of your thighs at rapid speed. Just as you realize it’s there that the pain, so hot and quick, blossoms into a dull burning ache. “Let’s try this again,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re going to count all the way up to ten. Hopefully, by then you’ll have learned your lesson. Be a good girl for me okay?”

Learn your lesson? You’re an adult, only a few hours younger than him, and yet here he is treating you like a child. You had no idea Baekhyun had this in him or that you could ever want something like this. While your annoyance steadily grows into anger and indignation, you make no attempt to tell your boyfriend that you don’t like this or that you want to stop. Because it isn’t true. You don’t want to stop. You do like this even though it’s completely humiliating. In spite of liking it though, you still have to give Baekhyun a run for his money. It’s in your nature to give him a hard time with just about anything, just like it’s in his, but when you get up to face him, to playfully push your boyfriend and call him a nerd, he surprises you. Baekhyun grips your hair firmly to keep you in place and unleashes a few harsh slaps in succession. The sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room so loudly it’s almost deafening. You’re sure, absolutely positive now, that Jongdae and Minseok can hear the whole thing.

Baekhyun sighs as if the entire thing is a major inconvenience to him. He rubs your slowly reddening cheeks absentmindedly as he says, mockingly woeful, ”Those didn’t even count.”

You try to wiggle out of his hold, albeit weakly, but every attempt at escaping is cut off. Every time you speak out to disrupt whatever rules have suddenly been enforced, every time you try to move and make things difficult, every time you tell him to go fuck himself, Baekhyun smacks your ass harshly. Each correction is harder and more painful than the last, and you’re not ashamed to admit that each correction feels better than the last. You whimper, grunt, and groan under Baekhyun’s efforts to get you to completely submit until your mind begins to grow fuzzy. You can feel the forceful and pointed push of Baekhyun’s cock through his joggers and into your hip from your place in his lap. You can also feel the way he gently grinds against you, eager to find some friction in all of this.

“Just say it,” Baekhyun gasps as he thrusts particularly hard, ”We can’t do anything until you say it.”

From the force of his actions, you’ve shifted slightly away from Baekhyun’s lap so he pulls you back in. Just as Baekhyun grabs your thigh to maneuver you over, he feels a familiar wetness there. He runs a few fingers through your slit and takes the time to rub slow circles onto your swollen clit. You hate yourself for leaning into his touch; for giving in so easily, but you keep your mouth shut. Your resolve soon crumbles when Baekhyun’s circles become firmer. You moan into the sheets below you and grab at the sheets for support. Whether you intend to or not, your hips raise slightly to seek his fingers just as Baekhyun pulls away to admire his slick covered fingers. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” he mumbles, more to himself than you. He readjusts his grip on your hair as his other hand seeks where you need him most.

Baekhyun slips a finger in incredibly easily, turning his palm down instinctively to search for your G-spot. This finger is soon accompanied by another as he builds a painfully slow rhythm that seems to be more for his own excitement than yours. While his fingers stretch you, prepare you for what’s to come, they do nothing for your pleasure. Although it satisfies your need for something, anything, to fill you, it’s not enough. As if picking up on your desperation and the fact that you’re near your breaking point, Baekhyun asks, “Don’t you want to feel good, baby?” His fingers firmly stroke that special bundle in you as he asks, ”Don’t you want Oppa to make you feel good?”

As your stomach grows hot from the tension, the small bursts of pleasure you’re receiving, you can barely think logically anymore. All you can think about, all you can focus on is Baekhyun’s cock pressing against you and how much you need it. Whether that’s in your mouth or balls deep in your pussy doesn’t really matter at this point. All you want to is to feel good and if you have to deal with Baekhyun embarrassing you after all this is over then maybe, just maybe, it’s worth it.

“Oppa.”

Baekhyun stupidly perks up almost immediately and loosens the grip in your hair once he realizes he has you. He doesn’t push you to say it again nor does he stall any further. This is as much as he’s gonna get from you and he’s grateful for it. You can hear that smile in his voice again as he says, ”Good job, baby. We’re gonna start now okay?” All of this and you still haven’t started yet.

Despite your cooperation, the first smack isn’t softer than the last; in fact, it matches the same urgency and bite as the last one. “One, Oppa,” you whimper out into the sheets, almost hissing with an effort to stay still. Baekhyun’s hand meets your ass again with the same intensity; just as unforgiving as before. You blink back tears as wave after wave of pleasure and pain hit you in the best way. It goes on like this until everything goes fuzzy entirely until you don’t care about whether or not the boys hear you, until you’re crying into the sheets beneath you. While you’re not outright sobbing, your sniffles alarm your boyfriend to the point of him helping you sit up. Now, straddling his lap, Baekhyun can see your tears — now free — stream down your face. But he can also feel the heat of your soaking pussy through his joggers as you, almost unconsciously, grind against his cock gently.

Baekhyun pulls your hips closer, hips pistoning just as gently as yours, but still has half a mind to ensure that you’re alright. “You okay?” At a loss for words, you can only nod and hope that it’s enough assurance to convince your boyfriend that you’re indeed okay. You’re more than okay. You’ve never experienced pleasure like this in your life. Baekhyun takes in your tears, his face shifting from concern to barely muted pleasure, and bites his lip as his facade continues. He’s never seen you like this before, never seen you this desperate and wanting. Something about your tears of pleasure, the way your hips move in spite of those tears, make Baekhyun the hardest he’s ever been. “I know, I know,” he says as you straddle his lap and whimper at the proximity,

”Oppa’s gonna make it all better.”

Baekhyun shucks off his hoodie, joggers, and briefs in record time before pulling you back into his lap. You’re too far gone, too concerned with your own pleasure, to hold yourself back from sitting on his cock the instant you feel it leaking against your skin. The feeling of being instantly full is almost too much. Not it’s definitely too much. You cum on his cock the minute he’s fully sheathed, a series of spasms and gasps as you hold onto him. Baekhyun groans as he holds onto your hips, grabbing your reddened cheeks with renewed vigor as you adjust to his size.

Your hips begin moving in tandem, soon finding a rhythm that suits you both. Your boyfriend grunts with effort to avoid slipping out of you altogether. Baekhyun can’t bother to lay you down or change it in any way. He grows addicted to the feeling of your pussy, bare and wet, wrapped around his cock like a vice and absolutely refuses to move. The resulting squelches of your slick and his precum along with your moans in his ear are enough to make him cum altogether, but he holds on. As you feel the curve of his cock hitting your G-spot, all you can think about is how good it feels and how much you don’t want this to end. Some primitive part of you can only focus on the ending result, Baekhyun cumming inside of you and in a way marking you as his.

In the anticipation of that moment, you find yourself cumming again, wanton and insatiable as you piston your hips to seek another orgasm. But Baekhyun can only hold on for so long. He begins to lose rhythm from the sheer pleasure of it all. He can feel that hot coil in his lower tummy ready to spring and by the sound of it, you’ve had enough fun to hold you over. It’s his turn now.

“Oppa, please!”

Baekhyun doesn’t cum to the feeling of your sopping wet pussy gripping him like a vice. He doesn’t cum to your moans and whimpers, your mindless begging for Oppa. He cums to the feeling of your tears soaking his shirt as you cry and beg, absolutely stupid with bliss. He cums without any barrier or restriction, painting your walls white with his climax, and shudders as he holds you close. You can only whimper as you seemingly feel each rope of cum Baekhyun’s spent cock pumps out. It’s hot inside you, filling you in a way you’ve never felt before.

When it’s all said and done, your boyfriend lies back on his bed and pulls you with him. You lay right on top of his chest and close your eyes in exhaustion as you listen to his heart race. His softening cock slips out of you easily in this position and you briefly mourn the loss.

Baekhyun rubs your back softly as the two of you come down from your high. There aren’t any words. Nothing really needs to be said in this moment. Baekhyun expresses all he needs to through gentle caresses and soft kisses on your skin. You return the favor tiredly, kissing around his chest and leaning into his touches. But as you adjust to bury your face in the crook of Baekhyun’s neck, you feel something. You soon realize it’s Baekhyun’s cum making a reappearance, a few drops dripping out of your pussy and onto his tummy. Although it’s only a little bit, it’s enough to make you a little uncomfortable. The feeling is foreign and strange causing you to wiggle a bit in discomfort.

But suddenly Baekhyun pins you to his chest, holding you against him purposefully so you can’t move at all. Because of this all you can focus on is the feeling of his cum slowly but surely spilling out of you. Baekhyun watches your face carefully, making sure to etch the entire scene into his memory for a later time. Even though his eyes never leave yours, you feel used and open in the best way. “Is there any more?” You nod. There wasn’t much to begin with, but there’s definitely some left. Baekhyun smiles and says,

“Keep it in for Oppa okay?”

After doing so well today, you don’t want to disappoint him. You try your hardest to clench down, you really do, but you’re far too tired to kegel. Another drop, the very last, spills and a sense of impending doom fills you. Maybe you didn’t try as hard as you could’ve, but Baekhyun doesn’t need to know that. Baekhyun actually has the nerve to look disappointed as if he could feel the difference in volume of the small puddle on his tummy.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs, ”Do I have to teach you another lesson?”

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