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sailoryooons · 1 month

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Boyfriend Material | jjk (m)

☾ Pairing: Hockey Player!Jungkook x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material – except when he is.

☾ Word Count: 2,127

☾ Genre: FWB, Hint of Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Friends with benefits who are very obviously pretending not to have feelings, being in a confusing relationship that is basically a relationship without titles, feelings of confusion and self-doubt, lying to oneself, mentions of some toxic interactions with other people/women, repressed feelings, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) in the shower, honestly, in general, some very cliche/stereotypical conflict you’d find in a relationship with someone of status

☾ Published: March 23, 2024

☾ A/N: This is a self-insert of one of the most confusing relationships I have ever had in my life and I will die on the hill that no one should date athletes because 98% of them are the rule, not the exception no matter how much they seem like it! TRAUMA!!! Also, should I have been dating a professional athlete for the sport I worked in? No!!!! This is for all the people who have been in a not-relationship-that-is-a-relationship why the fuck do people do that like it is okay to have feelings and call ur partner ur partner??

☾ A/N 2: This is drabble number six for the Drabble Challenge that I have been utterly failing at! Today I rolled for ‘athlete’ but I didn’t feel like writing actual sports so I was like :) I worked in sports for ten years, I can just share a glimpse of my life when I was 23 years old :) Enjoy

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Jungkook groans, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms. Sun beats down on his golden skin. You feel the heat of it on your back and the top of your head. It’s pleasant, the cool spring breeze threatening to send the napkins on the table running. “Wanna lay out at the pool?”

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you nudge the empty plate away from you. Where once an eggs benedict had stood is now smears of leftover yolk and a single onion you missed when eating your hashbrowns.

“Not sick of me?” you ask, raising a brow.

Jungkook isn’t looking at you, scrolling on his phone. The bill of his hat is pulled low, hiding most of his face as he squints down at the device held low in his lap. You wait patiently for his answer, running your finger up and down the now-empty glass as it sweats from the sun.

“Nope,” he answers, popping the end of the word sharply. “Did you ever get your desk fixed? Yoongi said he would fix it if not.”

“I have not.”

He nods. “He said he’ll swing by this afternoon. We can lay out at the pool at my place and then head to yours after?”

Your mouth twitches. You don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to risk him backing out, but another full day spent with Jungkook is a surprise to you. Not because it doesn’t happen often – it does. But rather because it keeps happening more often.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. He’d established that the first night he met you at a bar. Him being a professional athlete was a warning sign enough that you didn’t want to romance that but what had come afterward has been nothing short of surprising.

Friendship and… well. You don’t know how to explain the extras.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. But you do your groceries together on the weekend. You drop him off at the arena when they’re heading out for a road trip. You take him to doctor's appointments to monitor the knee injury from last season.

You’re not Jungkook’s girlfriend but he takes you to team events. He lets himself in and does your laundry at your apartment while you’re at work so you don’t have to do it when you come home. He has his teammates fix furniture for you and they’ve asked you to babysit their kids.

“Babe?” the endearment makes you blink a few times, realizing you’d been staring into your lap. Jungkook’s dark eyes are focused on you now, phone shoved into his pocket. “We don’t have to go to the pool. We can just nap.”

We. Not you. Jungkook is going to hang out with you regardless if you like his original idea or not. Your stomach flips in that way you hate, the way that you know you’re doing everything you said you wouldn’t.

“Sounds good.”

Jungkook flashes a grin and you become acutely aware that thinking you could be friends with benefits without being anything more was a stupid idea. Jungkook is not made to be resisted, with round eyes that darken when he’s turned on, a giggle that contrasts with the big, broad-shouldered athlete built, a smile that lights up the room and can dispel any tension, a sweet voice that can tempt anyone the moment he pouts or when he decides to pur.

You were fucked - literally and figuratively - that first night you let him in your apartment.

Instead of thinking about it, you hide from the truth. Again. Jungkook is not boyfriend material, despite the fact that he pays for breakfast despite your protests, and reaches over the center console in the car to squeeze your thigh.

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers skating over your flash and making you squirm in the passenger seat. “Warm.”

“I was sitting in the sun.”

“I like it.”

Jungkook likes a lot about you. He tells you all the time, very open about how he likes the way you taste, likes the way you organize your books by color, likes the way you sing in the shower, likes the way you speak in Star Wars quotes.

Perhaps that’s what makes you the most wary about him. He says he’s not boyfriend material, but his actions betray his words. And you let them, every single time.

Jungkook smells like sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of his cologne from earlier that morning. You’re hyperaware of him as you lounge on the cabana bed together, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his firm body.

His tattooed arm is tossed over his eyes, blocking out the sun as he snores a little. Careful not to knock into him, you lean over him and grab his phone to check the time. You haven’t been lounging in the sun long, but you don’t want him to get a sunburn.

Again.

You wager you can stay a little longer, placing the phone back down under his discarded shirt where it can hide from the sun’s heat. Sitting back in your spot, you pick up your book from your sweaty thighs as the sound of the gate to the pool yard opening catches your attention.

Some of Jungkook’s teammates live in the same apartment complex. It’s easier that way, especially for the players who get sent up and down from the minors. You catch a few of the younger players with a few girls you don’t know the name of tugging a cooler on wheels behind them with a speaker blaring.

Jungkook doesn’t so much as move. He can sleep through anything – has slept through you falling into his gaming setup while trying to get to the bathroom drunk. His slumbering leaves you to watch them head to the beds a few over from yours.

One of the girls notices you. You don’t recognize her specifically, but she recognizes Jungkook. Looks back at you. Frowns and mutters something to one of the other girls, who is not very subtle as she cranks her head around in your direction.

You don’t wince anymore. It’s not an uncommon thing, among these circles. You refuse to engage with any of it. You used to tell yourself it was because a casual whatever-Jungkook-is simply isn’t worth the drama. At night, you know you don’t engage with it because you don’t want to know.

Ignorance is bliss, especially in this dangerously plastic world Jungkook exists in.

Thankfully, you’re not alone in the matter. Jimin appears out of thin air, dropping down on the empty bed next to you. Namjoon – arguably Jimin’s better half and team captain – is nowhere to be found. Jimin lowers his shades and looks beyond you to the group of now rowdy players.

“Gross,” he huffs. He slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stretches out on the bed like a cat. Jimin doesn’t play, but he certainly has the body of an athlete, all fine lines and corded muscle. “Ignore them.”

“I was doing that already.” You lift your book as if to prove yourself.

He snorts. “You were thinking about it, be honest.” Your silence is answer enough and Jimin grins, lacing his hands behind his head as he tilts toward the sun. “Don’t let Jungkookie burn again.”

“I’m not,” you huff before snapping your book shut. Jimin is in the circle of player’s partners that you genuinely enjoy, but he has the keen ability to get under your skin and tell you all of the truths that you don’t want to be voiced out loud. Still, having him on your side has more benefits than just keeping the hyenas away from you. He’s also genuinely nice when he wants to be. “Jungkook, wake up.”

The man mumbles and turns his head away from you. You sigh heavily, squeezing his strong, very sweaty arm gently. “Come on, you’re gonna burn if you stay out here any longer.”

“Mm. Feels nice.”

“A sunburn won’t feel nice.”

“You can rub aloe all over me.”

“I will not.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Jeon.”

He drops his arm from his eyes, squinting in the bright light at you. His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his eyes. He’s been growing it out longer and longer, especially since Seokjin keeps encouraging Jungkook by telling him he has the best flow on the team.

“So you don’t want to rub aloe all over me?”

“You don’t need to get sunburned for me to touch you, Jungkook.”

“Bleh,” Jimin grunts.

That makes Jungkook sit up, rolling his shoulders and twisting to pop his back. He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes as though willing himself to get up. When he opens them again, there’s a light in them and he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Wanna shower?”

Your mouth twitches and you roll your eyes to hide how much you want to shiver. “Come on,” you sigh, getting up, the fabric of the sunbed clinging to your sweaty skin.

Eyes cling to you as you pull the sundress over your head and slide your sandals on. You don’t have to glance over at the mini-party a few sunbeds over to know you’re being watched. You suppose they’re watching Jungkook more than anything, but you’re in direct view behind him, grabbing your book.

You know Jungkook notices them. He says nothing, though. Instead, he offers his hand out when you shove all your belongings in a bag, wanting to carry it. You grin and hand it over to him, smile growing as he shoulders it easily and offers his hand again, this time for you to take.

And you do take it. Perhaps the satisfaction that thrums through you as he leads you out of the pool yard and onto the deck that crosses the lake toward his apartment building is a little bit insidious. You don’t care. The momentary triumph that you shouldn’t be feeling at all is far too powerful and Jungkook’s hand is far too warm and safe in yours to care about why you feel good about the public display of affection.

It isn’t like he hasn’t done it before. Jungkook isn’t shy with others in front of you. It’s what makes the whole thing worse, somehow. Because Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he introduces you to people and friends and slides between your legs to lean on you when you’re sitting on a barstool. He holds your hand when you go on a lunch and shopping spree with your mom and he brings her coffee and flowers.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but you don’t care when the shower hits the warm skin and runs down your back as he presses your chest to the cold shower wall in front of you. The cool stone stings against your nipples, over-sensitive and sending a shiver down your spine as your eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he curses low under the sound of the shower as he pries your legs apart, tongue seeking the heat between them hungrily. Your mouth falls open as Jungkook’s tongue licks you soft-slow, lips sucking gently against your clit.

“Shit,” you hiss. The difference in temperatures between the hot water and the cold wall makes the room spin. Steam makes it harder to breathe, your head pleasure-dizzy as Jungkook laughs and rolls his tongue lazily around your dripping cunt. “Fuck.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he eats you out slow and hungry. He doesn’t care that the water starts to lose its warmth as his mouth works you, smacking his lips loudly and moaning, vibrations going straight to your core where you drip on his soft tongue.

His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pries you apart further, tongue delving into your aching hole. He slurps at you, mouth loud and sticky over the sound of your panting and the water hitting the tile floor. His little hums of appreciation buzz through you, making the room spin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the wet, cold stone as you try to ground yourself. You twist an arm backward, gripping Jungkook’s wet hair. He lets out a loud groan in appreciation, always pleased when you pull on his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he does whatever you want him to. His tongue delves in, working you to orgasm until you’re shaking against the wall, knees knocking together and nearly collapsing on him. He catches you easily, standing and pressing you against the wall as he grabs your chin and brings your mouth toward him, his to devour.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material.

But more than anything, you want him to be.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook bts fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #100 drabble challenge

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welldonebeca · 2 years

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No Stage (But We Still Have an Audience)

Summary: Cassandra Baratheon needs a rebranding. Uncle Renly finds her a fake relationship with Punk Star Robb Stark. And then, it isn't so fake anymore. A.k.a.: Robb seals their relationship by fucking her on the couch during his band's party. Pairing: Robb Stark x OFC (Cassandra) WC: 4.6k words Warnings: Smut. Exhibitionism, dirty talk, loss of virginity, light angst in the beginning, fluff, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, cunnilingus, degrading/humiliation kink, alcohol. A/N: Everyone here is British.

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Cassandra tried not to look nervous and awkward as she stood in the very visible VIP cabin sitting to the Wolves' show.

It was all - everything, from top to bottom, from the featured song together to the little fake story they were playing for the world to see while pretending they couldn't - uncle Renly's idea.

The last six months were, to be quick, a mess. She had moved out from her mother's house and into her father, and had just dropped her grandfather as her manager, dyed her hair back to black, and cut all contact with her mother's side of the family.

Cassandra had been the star of King's Landing's idols, and while everything had gone great for a few years, when the discovery of her father's many, many affairs and illegitimate children became public, and the rumours of her mother being involved with her own twin brother became public, it all exploded.

They divorced, and mother had managed to get full custody of both Cassandra and her three younger siblings and limit father's visits to the point that whenever any of them saw him, someone from her side of her family - usually grandfather - had to be present.

It was hell.

Their marriage had always been crappy - she was the oldest kid, she had seen enough to know they were better separated than together - but the divorce became the worst option when she realised mother had managed to cut off every way that Cassie or any of her siblings could use to escape her.

Joffrey didn't seem to care when it happened, and the twins were far too young to know the difference, but Cassandra knew better.

She would rather stay with her father in his messy bachelor pad or live across the street with Uncle Renly and his husband, where she could have easy access to dad and actual freedom, than live in that mansion with her mother and uncle Jaime.

The week after her birthday and with uncle Tyrion's help, Cassandra ripped the plaster off.

The moment mother left to have brunch with her friends, she got her laptop and her phone, every important document uncle Renly and Stannis told her to get, and the suitcase full of clothes she had spent six months sneaking into Uncle Tyrion's home and left.

He was nice enough to drive her all the way to the town where dad lived, and gave a copy of her contract - signed by her mother a little over five years ago - to uncle Stannis, who was a lawyer, to dissect and find her a way out.

The police were called the moment mother realised she wasn't home and wasn't answering her phone, but Cassandra was too busy locking her and grandfather out of her accounts to even care about it.

Uncle Stannis took over as her lawyer, and uncle Renly became her new manager. Her old record company, Casterly Rock - which was legally managed by her Uncle Jaime but pretty much lead by her grandfather - prohibited her from using any of her old songs after the break of the contract, and she was forced to pay a million to them in compensation.

Needless to say, the media had had a field day with the whole thing.

Which was why she was here now.

If she wanted to get back into a good place in the spotlight and be seen as a serious musician, she needed a rebranding.

So Cassandra dropped the Lannister name and became Cassandra Baratheon again, changed her brand, and came out with an album she had been fully responsible for composing.

And was now constructing - or whatever the right word was - a fake secret tabloid relationship with Robb Stark, lead singer of Wolves of Winterfell.

All she had wanted to do was collaborate with them, to make their song and enjoy it, but it wasn't enough for the amount of publicity she needed.

So, uncle Renly helped her make a song that was suspiciously romantic and about a James Dean type of guy, instructed her to give some hype to the Wolves of Winterfell and Robb on her Instagram, with likes, stories and flirty comments, and got them to start sharing pictures of the same places in similar times.

So now she was sitting here, watching the end of his show as a VIP and not just a guest, trying to look entertained by their punk music, like a cool girlfriend.

Which wasn't that easy.

She didn't like punk music. There was nothing too wrong with it, but it wasn't her thing.

Cassandra wanted to experiment, of course. But those wolves... they were so crude.

Half of their songs had something about sex in it, and very explicitly.

Not to mention the few times she had actually talked to them, two out of every five words they said was a curse or crude word.

It was very different from anything she was ever used to before.

It was hard to even understand, in a full way, how those very good-looking men could be so... gross.

So she was ready to head home and recover from interacting with them the whole day when her phone's screen lit up in her hand with a text.

The band had left the stage just a couple of minutes ago, and Theon Greyjoy - the drummer - was already texting her.

Didn't they have anything else to do?

'We are having a party at Robb's,' the text read. 'You should come. Take a few pictures.'

She hesitated.

Most of the times she met them, Uncle Renly was around. He had had to leave earlier today - right after her song was over - to help someone with something.

But Cassandra was an adult now. She should be able to talk to them and meet them without him chaperoning her.

But she didn't like going to places without asking for their permission.

Dad would get worried if he didn't know where she was.

Well, she could send her uncles her location, right?

She exhaled and sent a quick text to her dad.

'Hey, is it alright if I go check out a party at Robb's place?'

She waited a bit, but there was no answer.

Dad always said she could go anywhere inside the country without asking for his permission, though. As long as he knew where she was, it was alright.

Cassandra threw a look over her shoulder when someone opened the door of her cabin, and Robb's security guard looked at her.

"Mister Greyjoy said you need escorting back into your car."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Yes, of course. Thank you."

It was always good to have security around.

So she left with him and gave her driver the address Theon had sent her, waving goodbye to the fans coming to see her in her car.

She wasn't going to stay for too long. An hour or so was enough to post something that would hint them to be in the same place, and maybe grab a little snack.

Robb was going to have his fun, and she wasn't going to annoy him for too long.

She knew she wasn't his favourite person in the world and wasn't going to overstay her welcome.

His building wasn't anything like her suburban home, big and very bright, and the moment she stepped out of her car in the garage, she was informed by a female guard about being searched.

And here she was, thinking her mum was the most paranoid person in the world.

"What's this about?" Cassandra asked, confused

The woman didn't even look at her face.

"Just to make sure you girls aren't carrying anything."

Cassandra frowned.

'You girls'?

What was that supposed to mean?

The tall guard just gestured for her to go along once she was cleared, and she walked inside, seeing the huge living room with dim coloured light, and a bunch of girls dancing to music playing loudly.

Cassandra looked around, trying to take it all in, confused when she felt an arm around her.

"There is my new favourite popstar!" Theon exclaimed.

She jumped, spooked at the stench of alcohol hitting her face. Sure, she was used to dad occasionally being drunk around her, but this wasn't him.

Theon Greyjoy wasn't her friend or family, he didn't have such freedom with her.

She backed away, disgusted at his sweat on her skin. He was already shirtless, showing off his tattoos and clearly wasted.

"And where is your cool uncle?" he asked, not phased by her action.

She scoffed at his sarcasm. Uncle Renly was very cool. He was teaching her to drive!

"He is out with uncle Loras," she mumbled.

Theon chuckled.

"I like your uncle Loras," he smirked. "His sister is hot."

She cringed a bit, taking another look around. All of the girls were wearing skimpy outfits or big band t-shirts with apparently nothing underneath.

"Who are those girls?" she asked, confused.

"Groupies," he grinned. "We picked them up after the show!"

Groupies?

Was that why she was searched?

"I like that haircut on you," he reached for her hair. "Short... still easy to pull, you know?"

She flushed, pulling away.

Easy to pull?

What was he thinking?

"It was damaged from the bleaching," she mumbled.

Mother always made her bleach her hair, since she was a kid. It made her look less like her dad - Cas always looked like a carbon copy of Robert.

"I could pull on it hard while you suck on my cock," he offered, crudely. "How about that?"

She blushed deeply, eyes growing wide.

"What?!" she rushed away from him. "Who do you think you are talking to?!"

He laughed.

"It's a party! You are a big girl now!" he remarked, as if she was just joking. "Why do you think I even invited you?"

Her eyes widened in shock.

What?

Who did he think she was? Some girl who would just fuck anyone who just waved a little hand at her? Some kind of groupie?

"What, are you like your mummy?" he teased. "Who only fucks someone if he is her brother?"

Cassandra slapped him the moment he finished his phrase.

Her mother could be terrible, but she would never let anyone use Cersei to disrespect her.

She stomped out in the direction of the door. She shouldn't have come to this stupid party.

"Hey!" she heard and Robb quickly moved to her side, holding her elbow. "Don't go, don't go."

Her face was hot, and she could barely look at him.

"Theon is a piece of shit when he is drunk," he told her.

"And when he is sober too," Jon added across the room.

All the girls laughed, and Robb squeezed her hand.

"Come on," he smiled charmingly. "Just have one beer."

She looked at him, unconvinced, and Robb shot her a little smile.

"If you have that drink, we can take a nice picture," he added. "That will be good for your story, no?"

She pressed her lips together.

He wasn't wrong.

Robb guided her to one of the couches, and she could see Jon on the other side, with his arms crossed and the only guy there with his shirt on, trying to avoid the girls touching him.

Rumour had it he was dating Robb's sister, Sansa, but she didn't know if it was true.

He was just typing on his phone, not caring about anyone, as if the party wasn't even happening.

"Here," Robb gave her a beer can. "One beer, sweetheart."

"Do you know if she even drinks?" Jon asked.

Cassandra looked at him, but he wasn't even looking at her.

"Have you ever drank before, Cassie?" he asked, a little teasing.

Cassandra blushed, offended again, though it wasn't as bad as what Theon had said.

"Of course I have!" she affirmed, feeling the old fury mother always said came from her father.

Robb chuckled, and she raised her chin, proud.

"I can probably drink more than you!"

He laughed, and raised a hand, lowering it when someone put it in his hand.

"On the count of three, then," he opened his beer.

She did the same, now growing nervous.

Well... dad did it all the time, right? It should be easy.

"One," someone called out. "Two. Three!"

She chugged it down the way she did with the green stuff mother used to give her - to keep her skinny - not even tasting the beer as it slid down her throat.

When she pulled the can away from her mouth, Robb was still drinking his, and the party erupted in a big celebration.

"She got you good!" someone shouted.

Robb pulled the can from his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking impressed.

"Alright, sweetheart," he grinned. "You got me. You can drink faster than me."

She raised her chin, proud, and he pulled his phone from his pocket.

"You know, we gotta pretend for the groupies," he whispered, amused. "They spread gossip like no one else."

She turned to look at the girls. Two of them were thrown over Theon, taking turns in kissing him, and Robb scooped closer to her.

"Let's take your picture, uh?" he teased. "Show them how good of a boyfriend I am."

She was still trying to understand what he meant when he pulled her legs up to his lap, so close her thighs were over his, and laid his big just an inch over her knee, caressing a long scar she had there, from when she broke her leg as a kid.

Cassandra gasped a little surprised, and tried not to shiver at his warm touch.

"How... uh," she cleared her throat. "How do you want to do this?"

He hummed slowly and placed his hand a little higher on her thigh.

"I like this," he spoke nonchalantly. "Gonna show everyone how you look with my hands on you."

He put his phone aside and took hers, taking a few pictures. She didn't know how to feel, but his rough hand really felt very nice on her skin.

"Let's take one on mine too," he decided, voice still soft.

His hand slid up slowly, caressing her skin and pushing her dress up a little bit before snapping a few photos, higher and higher until his fingers were brushing on the end of the pair of shorts she always wore under her sundresses.

"Shorts?" he asked. "I thought you were a big girl."

Cassandra blushed.

"It's for safety," she mumbled. "Anyone can look up."

Robb smirked.

"Your unkie doesn't want anyone to see your pretty ass," he mocked, making her shiver.

She blushed. It wasn't something uncle Renly ever talked about. She just always did it like that.

"Girl, do you know how many people want to fuck us?" he asked. "Just embrace it!"

She didn't really know how many fans - from her age to old creeps - actually fawned over her.

He showed her his phone and her cheeks flushed as she saw it. Her own photo was a little risqué, but his had her ass almost all out when he had his hand right between her legs.

"Maybe I'll keep this one for myself," he licked his lips. "People would go crazy if they saw so much of little Cassandra Baratheon."

Cassandra licked her lips, unsure, realising how close he was to her. She could feel his breath against her neck.

"We could take one more," she mumbled. "A photo, you know?"

Robb raised his eyebrows, questioning.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, lips curled in a little smile. "What kind of photo?"

She tried to think. Maybe they should have an official photo, no?

Before she could say anything, Robb cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

"Like this?" he whispered. "I think someone should be taking that for us, uh?"

She shuddered. Of course, she had kissed someone before, but…

"Are you afraid you're gonna like it too much, princess?" he moved his nose over hers.

Cassandra decided to be bold. She wasn't the innocent little girl he thought she was.

So, she kissed him, hard and deeply, grabbing his auburn-red hair and panting when he squeezed her thigh.

She barely had a moment to think before it turned hotter, more desperate, and just spread her legs when he slid his hand right between them and used the free one to pull her closer.

She was fully over his lap before she even realised it.

When they pulled away to breathe, there was a string of saliva connecting them.

"I never knew you had it in you," he smirked. "Nice."

She smiled, a little proud of herself, but looked down when she shifted and felt his erection poking her, blushing deeply.

Robb, completely shameless, turned to shout to the room.

"Anyone taking pictures from this point on is going to be sued and prohibited from going to our shows. If anything leaks, everyone here is gonna be punished."

She was about to ask what he was talking about - what was wrong with pictures of them making out? - but her back was suddenly against the seat of the couch, and Robb was over her, kissing her again.

Robb's fingers pulled on her shorts, tossing them away while he kissed her, and only then moved to kiss her neck.

She was breathless by the time he did so, sucking marks on her neck and collar bones, hand up her dress and lips restless.

"Robb," she squirmed, shivering. "What are you doing?"

He didn't seem phased by her questioning, sucking on a soft spot in her neck, making her sigh.

"Everyone wants to see us," he reminded her. "We are so sexy, sweetheart, and we want their attention too."

Cassandra exhaled, and gasped when he bit her nipple over her dress, and when she turned to look at the side, both the girls who were with Theon were watching them while he kissed one of their necks.

"Who do you think they are jealous of, sweetheart?" he asked, pulling her dress under her breasts.

He pinched her nipple and she squirmed, whining.

"Which one do you think they wish they could be fucking?" he smirked. "You or me?"

Before Cassandra could answer, Robb took her tit in her mouth, kissing it before sucking her nipple into his lips, hungry, making her pussy wetter and her eyes drift closed.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

The heat of his body left hers, and she whined, opening her eyes, but found him standing and his pants with some difficulty.

"Hey," he pulled a pillow from the seat and threw it on Jon, who raised his eyes with confusion all over his face. "Stop texting and get me a rubber."

She raised herself to her elbows, but Robb just moved to her, putting his hand between her legs and pulling her knickers and tossing them away, spreading them and tapping her clit and then her folds with a single finger.

"Fuck," he hummed slowly. "You're drenched, sweetheart."

Cassandra blushed, embarrassed, and whined when she pushed two fingers into her, slowly fucking her, tilting his head to watch her, causing her to squirm under his piercing look.

"Such a smooth pussy you have," he remarked. "Did you wax for me, sweetheart? For your sweet punk boyfriend?"

She looked away, embarrassed. Waxing was something she did for herself, not for men!

He looked around, but Jon wasn't back yet.

"Let's get you off while we wait for my stupid cousin to find my rubbers, uh?" he offered.

She didn't have a chance to say anything or deliberate about the offer, and Robb just put himself between her legs and covered her pussy with his lips, licking and sucking on her.

The first thing she had done when she got her own room without cameras and with a lock was buy sex toys, and while Cassandra was still a virgin, she had broken her virginity with a nice dildo, and wasn't afraid of using vibrators.

This, however, was new. Oral was very new.

Very hot too, very good.

She cried out with pleasure, unable to keep her sounds to herself, and when she opened her eyes and looked to the side, Theon was watching her with hungry eyes, fingering one of the girls while the other sucked his cock.

Fuck, that shouldn't have turned her on the way it did.

"Robb," she pushed her fingers into his hair, and arched her hips when he curled his two fingers into her pussy.

"Taste just as good as I imagined you would, pretty girl," he spoke against her thigh, sucking a bruise on her skin.

She panted.

"Did you imagine it?" she whined.

Robb smirked, licking his lips.

"I wanted to fuck you right there on stage," he told her, using his thumb to play with her clit. "To make you cum in front of everyone there."

Her pussy squeezed his fingers, the scenario making her feel a little too hot.

"Would you do it, baby?" he half-smirked. "Let me fuck you right there?"

His fingertips brushed against the sensitive spot inside her, making her cry out.

"Show off your wet pussy to everyone?" he chuckled. "I bet they would get themselves off watching us."

His touches quickened up, and Robb laughed when she just cried out in pleasure.

"You already moan so loudly, we wouldn't even need to mic you up," he scissored his fingers open, opening her up, and pushed a third finger into her.

"Robb," she cried, getting closer.

His thumb played with her clit a little quicker, though still too light.

"You gonna cum, baby?" he asked, watching her face, completely enticed.

She arched her hips, wiggling, tense, whining and crying.

"Please," she whimpered. "Harder."

His finger pressed her clit a little harder and in tighter circles.

"Like this?"

She nodded, crying, and he licked his lips.

"That's right," Robb spoke darkly, voice low and eyes boring into her skin. "Cum on my hand, you little slut."

His words flipped a switch inside her, and Cassandra cried out in pleasure, body shaking while your pussy squeezed his fingers inside her, and Robb followed her with his hand when she arched her hips, growing wetter and desperate while he didn't stop.

"Robb," she nearly screamed.

"Don't stop," he grunted. "Keep cumming against my hand, be a good slut."

He moved closer to her, placing a hand over her stomach and sucking on her clit while hammering his fingers into her.

"Please, please," she panted.

Robb was relentless, holding her down, driving her into madness.

And then, she felt something different. Very new.

He held her through her orgasm, holding her down as she came again.

Her body shook under him, and Cassandra didn't even know if she was screaming or crying silently.

Robb only pulled away when her orgasm was over, and his face was completely wet, dripping while he pushed his fingers into his lips, sucking with hunger in his eyes.

"Wait," she heard Jon's voice, and opened her eyes to find him standing right by her side. "You made her squirt?"

Robb didn't answer, just chuckling and smirking, pulling his fingers from his mouth.

"Gimme that," he snatched the rubbers from his hand.

"Good one," Jon said simply, walking away.

Robb just ignored him, pulling his cock from his jeans, and shot her a wicked look before rolling it down his cock, stroking himself for a moment and squeezed her hips.

"Turn around," he licked his lips. "Wanna slap your slutty ass while I fuck you."

Cassandra whined. Those words - this degranding way he spoke to her - shouldn't make her feel like this. And yet, here she was, craving for more.

Robb gave her a pillow, and she turned around on the couch, pressing her face against it and raising her ass.

"Fuck, look at this," he grunted. "You are so fucking messy."

Her cheeks warmed up, and she arched her ass a little more, earning a pleased hum from him.

"Can I take a picture, princess?" he touched her clit gently, just tapping on it. "Can I keep a picture of your messy pussy for myself?"

Cassandra bit her lower lip, unsure, though her pussy certainly got wetter at the offer.

She should be rational. Everyone always said how she was so mature, right?

"Gods," he squeezed her ass. "Did you feel that, slut? The little drop that fell from your pussy?"

She whined, and he teased her sensitive clit with his covered cock.

"Do you want me to share that photo too?" he offered, nearly mocking her. "Show my cock about to slide right in and let everyone what a fucking slut you are for me?"

Cassandra squeezed her pillow, squeezing her eyes closed.

"Raise your ass," he commanded. "Show the camera how wet I make, how your pussy got so messy just for me."

She did as he said, not looking back so that her face wouldn't be caught on screen, and gasped when he rested the head of his cock against her entrance.

"Just another picture, baby slut," he hummed. "And then I'll fuck your pussy, okay?"

Robb snapped another couple of pictures, and slowly pushed his cock inside, snapping another photo, before she heard the sound of his phone locking up and being tossed out of the way.

Her face was burning with the humiliation, but she didn't want it t end. She liked it.

Very much.

Finally, Robb pushed his cock all the way inside her without any hesitance or resistance.

"Fuck," he grunted.

"Is she good?" Theon asked from his seat.

"Perfect," Robb grunted. "Fuck, her pussy is gripping me, fits like a fucking glove."

She cried when he bottomed out inside her, and Robb groaned, squeezing her hips with a single hand.

"Your cunt is perfect for my cock," he grunted, moving back for a moment and then pushing inside her again. "Fucking drenched slut!"

She cried and mewled as he fucked her, not only not caring about his friends watching her, but enjoying their hungry eyes.

Robb pressed his chest to her back when his moans grew darker and a new orgasm felt closer and closer.

"Cum for me again," he grunted. "Milk my cock with your cunt, slut."

His fingers played with her clit without an ounce of mercy, and Cassandra's blue eyes crossed when her body followed his command, shamelessly cumming and driving him into orgasming with her.

Robb pulled out from inside her without waiting for much time, and she was still panting when he walked across the room and into another room, coming back with his dick already tucked in and pants zipped up.

"Hey," he pushed her hair, matted down by sweat, behind her ear, and cleaned her up with something soft and warm. "How are you feeling?"

Cassandra groaned.

She was so tired.

"Alright," he helped her flip back to face up and picked her up. "Nap time."

She pouted, but just put her arm over his shoulder, bracing herself, and pulled him closer when he laid her on a bed.

"Wanna cuddle," she whined.

Robb laughed and lied along with her.

"I guess this means we are dating now," he embraced her.

Cassandra raised her eyes at him, surprised. Did he mean it?

"What?" he caressed her side. "You think I would let you go after this?"

She flushed, blushing.

"I was hoping you wouldn't," she confessed.

Robb kissed her forehead.

"Good."

Cassandra wondered for a moment if she should tell him now that this was her first time.

Maybe she could do it tomorrow.

They needed to take that morning photo too, after all.

. . .

“No Stage (But We Still Have an Audience)” was posted on my Patreon on the 11th of April. To have early and exclusive access to my stories, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month!

. .

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daim1812 · 3 years

Text

One Last Time

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Labels: Romance, angst, drama, mentions of suicide, blood, children involvement, pregnancy and death.

Warning: Some manga spoilers. Change of storyline for adaptive purposes.

Song of choice: Saturn by Sleeping at Last

As the sun went down so did his body, sitting down on the log with a perfect view to a hidden lake between enclosed tall trees. Rising up from the mountain, the moon made its way into the night sky.

Levi couldn’t stop himself to stare at the moon. He couldn’t stop breathing the air, feeling it hit his lungs with small fights. He couldn’t stop from repeating the same images in his head.

His squads death made him realize that death was always near. He knew that no matter how much he ran away from it, it was always going to catch up to him.

Mike’s death shook him slightly. He knew this man for his whole years of being in the Scouts, and consider him someone close to him.

Erwin’s death threw him in a verge of loosing himself, almost to the point of ending things. And yet... he found himself weak to the thought. He couldn’t do it, it was someone else’s job to kill him and end his agony. Even when Hange stood there with him and helped him realize that he wasn’t that alone, her sudden sacrifice pushed him into an unknown feeling.

And so he sat there, amaze by the scenery; amazed by the simple thought that he was still... living.

Without a care in the world, Levi closed his eyes and emerge into the swing of the wind. Hitting him softly on the face and pushing his hair back, he indulge in a new feeling he couldn’t describe before.

He was delighted.

He was enlighten.

Yet, he hated that. Everybody else died, leaving him alone to understand himself and hate himself at the same time. All he wanted was... for them to come back. Since Isabel and Farlan, Levi learned the hard way that life isn’t the way he thought it would be. Kenny’s death was another punch in his face. His mother's death since the beginning made him this solitary person filled with problems.

Levi wasn’t normal.

Two pair of hands took him by surprise, but not enough to act defensive. He already knew this hands.

She pressed her face on Levi’s head, her body slightly pushing to his back. Her hands collared on his neck, embracing him thoroughly to her own content.

“What are you doing, Captain?” Her voice swayed Levi’s ears, the melody in her voice making him subtle and nostalgic.

“I have never stopped myself to watch this place, Captain.” He mumbled, almost too low for her to understand, but she did. Levi felt her jaw tense and knew she was smiling.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This is what we fight for, Levi. For this place, this scenery, for the wind, for the people, for the oceans, for the animals, for us.” She let go of Levi to sit beside him, looking at him.

Levi finally got rid of his bandages, half of his face with a scar that marked a battle in transition; his left eye was hidden over a patch. She wanted so much to contain herself from touching his face once again. One after the other, every time she saw him like this, her hands immediately moved to touch his face. Levi doesn’t care much, but at the beginning he prohibited her to do so.

“Can I...?” The whisper made Levi look down, slowly nodding, not wanting to show her that he needed her to touch him.

Her fingertips rolled on his skin and scars, slowly, and carefully, she continue the path from the chin to his forehead. She stopped the movement once she reached his eye patch, looking at him for confirmation. He didn’t say anything, still staring at the ground in front of him, how the grass moved with the wind.

“I love your eyes, Levi.” She smiled at him, continuing her path, her fingers sinking inside his hair.

He finally let go of a sigh, looking up at her with the most saddest eyes, the color of his eyes slowly fainting by the light of the moon.

“If you die...” He started, stopping her movements. She frowned her eyebrows, looking back at him with fierce.

“Don’t say that. I’m not going to die. I’m not planning on doing so. My plan is to finish this war with Eren and those idiots, and then... we’ll retire in a cabin in the woods. We’ll have lots of kids. I’m still young, I can have at least 7 kids. Don’t you think?” She chuckled, Levi loving so much her action.

When was the last time he felt so affected by the emotions of another person? She had him wrapped on her fingers and yet he couldn’t do anything about that. He didn’t know the feelings he was going through. He didn’t understood what this new emotion was.

Was it really love like the books in the library described?

Was it the love Hange so furiously told him about when they stayed up almost all night drinking with Erwin and Mike?

Was love the past arrangement Erwin had with Nile’s wife?

Or was it that anxious feeling of seeing someone for the first time and noticing how beautiful they were?

He couldn’t decipher anything even if they were together. He was confused with all those emotions flowing into him. From the beginning, in his childhood, he never got to experience love and affection. Farlan and Isabel gave him affection, that friendship, and he learned from that. From Erwin he went through companionship, same with his squad, Hange and Mike. He understood those feelings; he already battled those and lost. Levi knew death, despair, loneliness, sadness; he knew all of those and yet he never once understood love.

She changed those thoughts so easily it scared him.

“You would look so beautiful holding our baby...” Her smile made Levi weak to the knees. How couldn’t he have fallen for her? “My plan is for us to be together until we are old and we decay with time. I want this to be over so we can be happy. What do you think?”

“...” Levi couldn’t say anything. If something he learned from all those years of loneliness and misery, it was to never dream too much. He wanted to live in the present because every time he thought things were alright something ended up wrong.

“Levi?” She looked so worried for him, letting her knees touch the grass in front of Levi.

His hands immediately hold her elbows, not wanting her to get on her knees and get her pants dirty just for him. Yet, she didn’t cared, only pushing away his hands a little bit to not make him feel bad.

“Talk to me, Ackerman.” Her voice soothes him. How many times has he loved hearing her call his name or just say anything in general?

He didn’t wanted to admit it, but having her near him, breathing, laughing, talking, whispering, singing... made him sleep so good for the first time. He finally let go of the worries in her arms and slowly pacified his urges of ending thing. Whenever he could sleep with her, he felt like the world didn’t needed to end just yet. Sleeping with her seemed like the only medicine he needed for days full of regret.

Either way, with those thoughts in his head while he stared down at the girl he profoundly fell for, he couldn’t let himself be like her.

Levi was the opposite of her. Down to earth, cold, and with secrets nobody needed to know. She was an open book, imaginative and lovable. He just didn’t wanted her to feel bad for saying words that could hurt her.

“This is real life, Captain. We are in a fragile situation right now in where we don’t know if tomorrow we will be alive. We live our lives to the fullest imagining that at some point we will stop and notice we fought so hard for our freedom.” Levi’s eyes connects with her, noticing how the light faded a little bit. “I can’t live in a fantasy... not when everything around me is based in reality. You are the one thing,” He stopped for a few seconds, his finger grabbing onto some of her locks. “I can’t loose.”

“You’re in bad luck, Levi, ‘cause I’m going into battle tomorrow and I promise you I will live. I won’t die yet. I can’t leave you alone.” Suddenly she pressed her forehead softly against Levi’s forehead, both of their noses slightly kissing. She closed her eyes and Levi admired her fractions.

He liked her so much.

She was the only reason why he hasn’t indulge into the darkness and end his life right there.

His fingers pressed her locks behind her ear, some of the hair covering his face and hers. She giggled at the humble actions of the man she loved with all her life. He continues to push her hair behind her ears, slowly passing his fingertips on her earlobe.

“Don’t die on me, brat. Keep fighting.” His whisper made her eyes crystallize. She felt the feelings behind those words. He wanted her to continue living even if he didn’t made it through another day.

She shook her head, the hairs from behind her ear falling back on her face as she pulled away from him.

Her hands locked onto his, pressing them on her chest tightly, a little careful of Levi’s bandage hand missing two of his fingers.

“No. Don’t YOU die on me, Levi. I want you to live and fulfill my wish with me. I want you to wake up tomorrow ready to battle and do everything it takes to come back into my arms. Many will die; death is inevitable, yet I’ll be here always. I want you to survive because you deserve to. I know how much you await death. You’ve been waiting for so long to feel it. The grass on your fingers, the blood gushing out of your mouth and the pain. But, Levi, I assure you, nothing is better than living the moment. Nothing will be better than this moment. You and me... finally together. I won’t let you die, Levi. We will have each other’s back. But you will survive even if it means me saving you over and over. I won’t let you fall into a darkness you won’t ever go out. I’ll light up your path every time you see it darken. I’ll keep the light up every time the wind tries to blow it. I’ll be here for you... until death do us apart.” Her eyes quickly tried to gush out the feelings, but the feelings were already dripping down her face.

Levi couldn’t stop himself anymore. He grabbed her cheek, pulled her up a little to be at the same height as him and pushed his lips against hers.

Her lips danced slowly on his, taking almost all the control of the kiss. Even if they were together for so long, Levi didn’t know a lot of things couple usually did. He didn’t know how to kiss, how to compliment, how to touch, how to love. Yet, she didn’t care for those small details. Being near her lover solely made her live happily.

Their lips continued to stick together, Levi wanting so hard to not let go. Maybe he didn’t wanted to let go because he wanted to love the moment like she told him to do; or maybe he felt the need to kiss her one last time just in case something bad happened.

Her hands touched Levi’s cheek, rubbing her fingertips on his cheek. He felt the cold round of tears pressing on his face, sticking them.

Breaking the kiss with a subtle movement, Levi gazed at her up and down, taking a mental picture of his lover for future references. For when the battle came, he could keep calm and fight dedicating his heart.

“Don’t cry, idiot.” He rolled her tear off her face with his right thumb. She nodded quickly, wiping her face with her long sleeve shirt.

“Promise me, Levi... we will fulfill my dream? Just promise me that.” His hand pressing on her cheek, she shoved it even closer to her.

He couldn’t promise that. He just couldn’t. Levi didn’t know if he was going to survive. The situation was getting dangerous and if everything went south, he would have to sacrifice himself to save the others. He needed to give them a future, Levi already fought enough, lived enough.

But now he had her... Now he was supposed to live to keep her by his side. He needed to survive. Yet, he just couldn’t say that to her. He wasn’t very good with words. Showing actions and taking actions was his forte.

The moon shined on them once again, the lighting in his eyes finally shinning again, the back of her head being lightened by the moon as well.

He wanted to live for her.

“I promise.” He mumbled, watching her shriek and throw herself on him, almost pushing both of them back into the ground.

She flowered him with kisses all over his face, being extremely careful of his eye and scar.

“I love you, Levi. Thank you. I’ll keep you safe.” Those words brought him so much joy. An emotion he hasn’t felt at all in his life, yet he was purely in love with this woman and he was going to make her happy.

“Me too, Captain.”

————————————

“Papa, papa, papa!” A little kid, around 6 years old with short dark hair and beautiful grey eyes threw himself at Levi. He catches him almost in midair and makes him sit on his arm and waist.

“What is it, Teo? I’ve told you to not interrupt me while I’m working.” The little kid shrugs his shoulders and purposely hides his face on Levi’s chest.

Levi noticed by the corner of his eye the little girl standing near the door, half of her face looking at him and the kid.

“Alora doesn’t want to play with me and I feel lonely.” His voice makes Levi tremble gently. Who would have thought that the Captain of the Survey Corps was going to be swayed by the adorable side of his older child?

“Alora, come here.” He turns around to the door, the little girl holding onto a dark teddy bear that hanged on her right hand and kept being swept on the floor.

She walked in with her face looking down on the floor. Alora couldn’t lie about it, she was almost scared of her father. He was always so quiet and cold; while she was the opposite. She was curious, a shining sun wherever she went, and a beautiful, intelligent little girl. With only 4 years old she already knew how to do basic math (something her mother continuously felt proud of and mentioned every time).

Levi looked down on her and gently squatted down with Teo on his arms, leading him to stand up on the floor.

Pressing his hand on Alora’s black, long soft hair that fell until her lower back and was tightly put in a ponytail, he smiled at her. Alora looked at her father and smiled back, loving those moments with him.

“Alora, would you like to play with your brother for a little while? Papa has some work to do, but once I’m done I’ll play with both of you. Anything that you want, I’ll play it.” He kept smiling, watching the kids as they celebrated that their dad was finally going to give them some attention. “Go play, kids.”

The kids rushed through the door, running into their rooms to play and have fun with each other.

Letting out a small sigh, Levi got up and sat down on his chair again. He still couldn’t believe he was a father of two children that made his life a whole heaven and a living hell as well.

A knock on the door caught him slightly by surprise, turning his attention towards now the person standing at the door.

He stared up and down at his wife, and how the dress made her look so irresistibly gorgeous.

She smiled at him and entered the room without invitation. Holding on her back for support, or for pain, she finally stood next to him. A hand pressed on Levi’s left shoulder, making Levi close his eyes and sigh again, loving so much her touch.

“You must be exhausted, Levi. Are you sure you can’t just finish this later? I could really use a massage, you know.” She leaned down a little bit, rubbing her nose on his cheek and ear.

“I have to finish today. I’ll be done soon.” Sighing once again, he let go of his desire to stop working and just let her shower him in affection and love.

“You’re so tense, dear.” Her hands touched his shoulders and made pressure on her hands to make him feel at ease. Levi’s head fell back a little bit, seeing his wife enjoying giving him all the love and attention he needed.

“Go do something else, brat. You’re always trying to make me feel good. I’m fine.” Levi pushed his body upwards, breaking the contact of her hands on his shoulders. She chuckled, understanding that Levi didn’t wanted to feel vulnerable at the state of tension he was in.

“Alright, Captain.” She makes the old salute, making Levi tremble at the sight. Even so, she continues to smile, leaning down on him to kiss him on the lips real quick.

“Tsk... idiot.” As soon as he said that, his body lay back at the chair, resting himself on it as he watched his wife walk away with a smile.

As soon as he heard his wife say dinner was ready, his body immediately got up and walked to the living room, seeing how the kids ran to the table. Getting from behind Alora, he helped her get on the chair. Giving her a short smile, Levi sat down at his respective chair, not having any other option than watching his wife put the plates and utensils at the table.

Levi always loved watching his wife do housework. He was a clean freak, and noticing how she always tried her best to keep everything tidy up and clean, made him love her even more. It wasn’t rude or anything, Levi helped a lot in the chores, helping whenever he wasn’t doing his own work.

“You’re slacking off, Levi.” She smiled, putting down the utensils next to his plate. He looked up at her, and her eyes shined to him. God, he could loose himself with just a stare.

“I’m tired.” He said with a sigh, resting on the chair.

“You could finish up quickly, papa.” Teo’s small voice makes Levi smile. His ear rings to that voice and he just enjoy his son’s voice.

“Yes, papa. You have to play with us.” Alora smiles while her mother pours some food on her plate.

“I know, kids.” His wife presses her thumbs to Levi’s nape, slowly rubbing it.

“Papa will be busy, but I’m sure he’ll take some time to play with you, kids. Right, darling?” Levi lets his neck fall back a little bit and looks up at her staring into his eyes. A faint blush covers his cheeks and he tries his best to hide it, yet she already notices.

“Yeah.” Mumbles, staring down at the food that was being served.

After they finished eating, Levi went back to his studio, trying as fast as he could to finish his work.

With a loud sigh, he finally finished doing all the things he had to do. He got up the chair, stretched his back and walked over to the room in where the kids were playing.

Standing on the entrance of the room, Levi let his back touch the wall and just decided to stare for a little bit at the kids giggling and playing.

He never had a childhood like that. All he knew while growing up was self defense. He knew how to stab, how to kill, how to defend himself. Levi didn’t know what other feelings were. The emotions he was feeling right now while watching his daughter show him her doll and his son the little train he got for his birthday, he didn’t know what that was called.

Knowing well enough how to battle an enemy, Levi never thought he would have to be fighting himself over and over in the future. He thought, maybe, after marrying her and starting a new life he would stop all those thoughts. And he did stop those thoughts. The birth of Teo brought into his life a whole new meaning that he didn’t know he needed so much.

Levi found love.

“Papa, papa! Come! Play with us.” The little girl’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. Looking up and down at her, he smiled, walking over to them and joining their small party.

Levi tucked both kids into bed. He wore them out enough for them to be knocked down cold into a huge sleep. Sliding the blanket over Teo and Alora, Levi kissed their small little forehead. If Erwin saw him right now he would have been surprised at the sight of weakness Levi was showing. “What would he say about this?”, Levi thought while staring down at the little girl holding tight her small bear. Nevertheless, Levi didn’t care. All he cared about were those kids and his wife. Erwin was long gone and he knew that if he saw that, Erwin would have been so proud of him. Levi found exactly what Erwin wanted for him, and what he wanted as well. No thoughts would change his mind on what his ex-Commander and best friend would have thought in that situation. Erwin would have been happy.

Turning off the light, Levi closed the door to the room and walked over to the room he shared with his wife.

And there she was, looking over at the door in wait for her husband. She smiled, opening her arms so she could get Levi next to her.

“Tsk. You’re a needy brat.” He crossed his arms, but still walked up to her. She grabs his hand and detangle them from his chest. Bringing him close to her, making him sit down on the bed, she gently pressed his hand on her belly.

Levi felt a knock, a kick, that startled him a lot. A life was in there. His next child was there. Levi finally understood that feeling. He felt it when Teo came the first time and when Alora also came. The feeling of being alive.

“It keeps kicking. It’s so funny.” She whispers near Levi’s shoulder, letting her head fall on his shoulder.

“He wants to kill you. I’ll kill him if he comes out like the other two. Disorganized and dirty.” His comment makes her laugh and Levi has no other option than to enjoy it. He wanted to record that in his mind forever. Her voice and her laugh.

“You silly... They are only like that because you let them be. I remember when I was a Captain and every time I saw you, you were scolding the cadets for leaving dirt everywhere.” She makes him remember, and he just snickers. He really was a strict Captain. And still, he always got the job done.

“I lived so long in dirty and dark places... I didn’t wanted HQ to be the same.” After he finishes talking, he feels another kick, letting go of a small smile.

“The HQ was bland. It was colorless. It reek of death and broken dreams. I didn’t like that so much.” She closes her eyes and rubs Levi’s hand over her belly.

“We didn’t have time to be thinking of colors. We were always living in a die or live situation.” She nods on his shoulder.

“I agree.”

“We should head to bed.” Levi mumbles again, not wanting to take his hand away from her belly or the warmth of her hand on his.

“Mhmm... let’s stay like this for a little while more. I missed your scent.” Her whisper makes Levi shiver, yet he only lets a small grunt come out of his throat, responding to her.

The small shallow breaths she was taking, the thumb rubbing on his hand, her hair falling on his shoulder and her thighs pressing on him made Levi so renewed. At the end of the day, all the tiredness faded away when she was there with him.

He knew she had her eyes closed, she was just resting on his shoulder. Yet, he wanted to look at her, kiss her, hold her, do everything he could think of even if she had a belly growing up. She has done so much for him and continues to do so by loving him every single day of their lives.

Levi slowly pulled his hand away from her belly and her, but now press it on her cheek. She opened her eyes and leaned back from his shoulder, now staring at him with bags under her eyes.

She was fucking stunning even when she was tired.

Letting his fingers roam from her cheek to her ear, pushing the hair to the back of her neck and ear; Levi cut the distance between each other and kisses her. Slowly, shaking and almost afraid of being too aggressive even if he wasn’t. Her hand found Levi’s shirt and gripped it. He pressed his other hand on her cheek and hold her face steady for him to kiss her better. Licking on her lip slowly, he went back and devoured her lips once again, showing off his dominating side.

Hearing her small moan, he let go of her. Staring deeply into her eyes, the small faint blush on her cheeks made him smirk. He loved making her flustered.

Slowly, but surely, Levi pressed his nose against her nose and gave her a lovely Eskimo kiss.

“I love you, Captain.” She said first, leaving him speechless once again like always.

He stared at her up and down, watching her completely. She always had this effect on him. Not for nothing they were married. Even so, Levi couldn’t be so easily frank like her. He loved her, but saying it was so difficult for him. Yet, when seeing her eyes shine the same way it did when they kissed for the first time, Levi couldn’t let her be disappointed on himself. He loved this woman with all of his life.

The woman who saved his life.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).”

————————————

“I’M NOT LEAVING HIM BEHIND, JEAN!!!!” The small faint voices of a girl during a silent world, were being simply shouted against the noise.

“We have to leave. We need to help Armin and Mikasa. If you stay here, we’ll be loosing you too, Captain. Please, reason with me here. We already lost Connie and Reiner is seriously injured. We need you.” Jean tried his best to reason with the girl who fearlessly continued to cry and shout at the tall man.

“NO!!! I CAN’T LEAVE HIM!!” She cries out, her tears falling in Jean’s arms and onto the floor.

“I understand, Captain. But Captain Levi wouldn’t want you to stay here and do nothing. We must continue to fulfill his wish and save the world. Please...” He couldn’t hold her anymore. She kept screaming while trying to push Jean away so she could hold her lover’s body on her arms. “CAPTAIN, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!”

He let go of her and she fell on her knees, scrapping them against the rocks and sand. Yet, it didn’t hurt. Her body was numb to the exterior damage. She just couldn’t react to any of that. All she could do was cry and cry and keep crying.

Her body crawled closed to her lover’s body and she grabbed his bloody hand.

When did that happened? How did it happened? Where was she? How did she let that happen?

She kept questioning herself over and over again into the smallest details. Levi’s death was upon her and she couldn’t help but blame herself.

Levi’s soulless body was laying on the ground, his left arm missing and his left leg. He was not coming back from this one and she knew it. After everything she promised. After everything she tried to do to keep him safe, she failed every and each of those promises.

“Wake up, Levi... Yo-You... you promised... You pro-promised we were going to live. You promised ME you were going to live. You promised, you promised, you promised... YOU PROMISED!!!” Her shouts could be heard all over the quiet ambient. Jean let some tears fall down as well, his head falling forward to not be seen weak.

She grabbed Levi’s body and got him close to her, pushing his face near her and sobbing. Tears falling down on Levi’s face, almost washing away the dirt and the blood. She just couldn’t believe that was happening. Levi was actually dead, his body resting on her arms.

“You promised... we were going to have kids... and live happy in a little house on the woods! We were going to raise our children the way they never raised us. Please... please... Levi, please, I love you. Don’t go... don’t leave me!”

The sound of her sobbing suddenly were muffled by extremely loud crashing sounds.

Jean looked over to where the sound came and his eyes became plates. He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her forcefully, making her shriek and cry harder.

“Captain, Armin is in trouble. We need you. I know it hurts. I know you and Levi had dreams. But right now, if you don’t stand and get your shit together, everything that Captain Levi fought for will be for nothing! DEDICATE YOUR HEART!” Her red face and covered with tears, dust and blood suddenly came to a halt.

Levi wouldn’t wanted her to be like this and not in that moment. She gazed at Levi’s body on the floor one last time, got closed to it, kneeled down and after crying out her last tears, she gave him a farewell kiss.

She wiped her tears off and got up, her face drastically changing to pure anger.

“Let’s save humanity, Jean. DEDICATE YOUR HEART, SOLDIER!!”

The End

Thank you so much for reading.

Have a good day or night, darling. 🥰

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi angst #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi romance #couple #blood and death #levi death #self insert #levi x reader fluff #levi x reader angst

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

The Akatsuki at Karaoke Night

Being a group of insatiable killers is hard work, even in the best of circumstances. Like anybody else, the Akatsuki is constantly seeking out ways to unwind and de-stress during their off time. One day Konan goes out and comes back excited; a local tavern hosts a karaoke night every week. The others are reluctant at first, but this quickly becomes one of their new favorites pastimes. Drinking, eating, singing; what could be more fun than that?

Deidara

Has to be really drunk to get up on stage and sing. Like, incredibly drunk. Like how-is-he-still-standing-drunk. When in this state, there’s one song that he’ll sing and one song only: “I’m A Barbie Girl.” Nobody in the Akatsuki knows why he chooses this particular song, but everyone has to admit that it suits him. He’ll take his hair out of his ponytail and have it cascading down his back, he’ll tie up his shirt in a front knot, and, if she’s wearing them, will borrow Konan’s heels to wear. And he’ll always try and drag Sasori on stage with him to sing the parts of Ken (C’mon, Danna! You’re literally like a doll, hm!), but Sasori will only comply if he’s in a really good mood/there’s not that many people around. Despite his intoxication he’ll actually sing beautifully, so much so that he’ll receive requests for encores; which he’ll do, until the booze catches up with him and he falls head-first off the stage and into someone’s (usually Tobi’s) lap. Won’t remember a thing the next day and feverishly insist that he’s never even heard of “some weird Barbie song”.

EDIT:: After days of this being on my mind I can also believe that Deidara would sing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood(?) and stare directly at Sasori the entire time even though they’re not really dating they‘re “in a situation” and even though if they WERE dating Sasori isn’t the cheating kind but he’s listening to the lyrics and noting how intensely Deidara is singing it and his face is just 😳

Sasori

He only goes because the others insist that he does. Honestly, this guy has a severe allergy to anything Fun. Chances are he’ll bring one of his puppets with him to work on/modify. He mostly refuses to get on stage and sing any songs of his own, BUT he’ll use his chakra strings to control his puppet and have it dance along on stage to a song of his choosing, that he has one of the other members sing for the puppet (giving them a taste of ventriloquism). The song he likes his performers to do most frequently is “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Joel; this must be his favorite song because he always silently mouths along to it as it plays. If literally nobody else is there besides the rest of the Akatsuki, he sometimes “makes” Deidara join him for a duet; he’s particularly fond of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John, although he and Deidara always fight over who sings the part of the girl.

Tobi

It’s dangerous to let Tobi sing in front of people. Not because he’s bad at it, but because ... he’s good. Startlingly good. His voice changes completely from a goofy childish timbre, to very deep, and smooth, and mellow. There are sea legends about sailors being lured to their deaths by the songs of sirens, and the same principle seems to be at work here. Waitresses will drop their trays, people walking will run face-first into each other, and the area around the stage will be packed with men and women alike trying to get as close as possible to him. The fact that he sounds like that but won’t make his mask off makes him even more mysterious and alluring. His song of choice? “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers; which brings tears (and swooning) to the eyes and minds of anyone who hears him. After the song it’s like someone flips a switch, and he goes back to the weirdo that the Akatsuki knows and tolerates, seemingly completely oblivious to the chaos his singing caused. He also enjoys having drinks with his Senpai, as the alcohol makes the blonde much more friendly towards Tobi than he usually is; however he can’t keep up with the amount of booze Deidara can put away, and he feels sleepy after just a few beers.

Hidan

As with most group outings, he’ll complain about thinking everything is stupid. His religion prohibits the consumption of alcohol, so he’ll occupy himself with eating lots of food and “lovingly” heckling his fellow Akatsuki members when they get up on stage. Once in a blue moon he can be persuaded to get up and sing himself, although again this is a complete rarity. He has no real music preferences and will usually just flip through the available choices until he finds something he knows the lyrics to. Tries to pick songs with a lot of swearing in it, which he won’t bother to bleep out and will instead scream out at the top of his lungs (which often results in the whole group being threatened with getting kicked out). Sometimes, though, when he’s in a more mellow state of mind ((a rarity for Hidan)) he’ll get the urge to do a duet (because that takes the pressure off of everyone staring only at him) and can convince Konan to go up with him. Their rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” always brings the room to its feet, and gets them thunderous applause. After the song Konan will blush and kiss his cheek, which Hidan pretends to act embarrassed about (but is secretly thrilled by). His favorite song to do solo, however, is “Sympathy For The Devil” by The Rolling Stones, which he ... really ... gets into.

Kakuzu

Mostly comes out with the others as a sort of chaperone; making sure they get home safe after drinking, and trying to prevent them from blowing all their money on the “outrageously priced” food and drinks. Karaoke isn’t really his thing, and neither is being on stage in front of people. However if he’s in a decent mood, and there aren’t that many people around, he can be persuaded to get up and sing. He sings the most amazing rendition of “Ain’t No Grave (Can Hold My Body Down)” by Johnny Cash; his deep gravelly voice and slow speaking pitch are absolutely perfect for it, giving everyone listening goosebumps. Kakuzu is also a skilled guitar player, and sometimes he will sit on stage and play the guitar bits of certain songs for other Akatsuki members singing, “But I’m taking my fees out of your next paycheck.”

Zetsu

Surprisingly, this is one activity that the plant-man enjoys engaging in with the others. He’s not much of an alcohol drinker, and “human” food isn’t really his thing, either; but he loves to hear the others do their best at singing. It takes a lot to get Zetsu up on the stage himself, but when he does, he’s a fairly decent singer. He’s able to change the pitch of his voice quite effortlessly, so that it intend sounds as if two people are singing, instead of one. His song of choice is a long one: “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. It takes a lot f stamina to get through this, but Zetsu always finds that half the time he can’t even hear his own voice with this one, as everyone in the place sings with him (because seriously, who alive doesn’t know this song?). But it’s not all fun and games; Zetsu will always be scoping out the crowd, discerning who the most intoxicated people are. He’ll lure these poor souls into the alley out back, and gave himself a tasty little snack. He tries his hardest not to let the others catch him doing this, though, as this is supposed to be a fun and stress-free night for all involved.

Konan and Pein

This whole thing was her idea, yet, unless it’s a duet with one of the others, she’s very reluctant to try and sing on her own. Thinks her voice is “nails on a chalkboard”, although everyone vehemently disagrees with this perspective. Never has to bring any money with her to the bar, because all of the boys will take turns buying her food and drinks. She goes crazy for fries of any kind, and can eat carloads of these alone. Konan is exceptionally beautiful, and she will be mercilessly hit on from the moment she walks in until they all leave. Well, not always — the boys ALSO like to take turns acting as Konan’s bodyguard, and protecting her from anyone who tries to come within three feet of her. They hide their more vicious tendencies for when Konan’s not paying attention, because they know she wants a relaxing evening, but still: there’s been quite a number of guys escorted out of the bar by Kisame and Hidan, that mysteriously never return. When persuaded to sing, almost anything she chooses will be an Amy Winehouse song, as this is her favorite artist. Her favorite song is “Wake Up Alone”, which moves her fellow teammates (Pein included) to tears. Joins Kakuzu as helper to make sure everyone gets home safe and sound. Pein doesn’t like singing, and does not want to sing ... but Konan always manages to convince him to be a good sport at some point in the evening. But the song he picks is disappointingly predictable: “Pain” by Three Days Grace. Expected, maybe ... but he puts real heart and soul into his rendition, nearly falling off the stage with his enthusiasm. As with all group outings, Nagato loves to experience everything through the Pein-body’s eyes, and spend time with this makeshift family of his.

Kisame

One of the biggest drinkers, but something (perhaps his half-animalness) makes it near impossible for him to be totally drunk, no matter how much alcohol he consumes. Sometimes he’ll make a deal with Kakuzu: Kakuzu will scope out other drunks in the place, inform Kisame of their whereabouts, and Kisame will hustle them for money in either drinking contests or pool games. He’ll split the money with the old guy, making both happy. When it comes to the karaoke aspect, Kisame doesn’t really like singing, or being in front of a crowd; but decides to be a good sport and do a song lIke the others. He can sing almost anything (he has a wide vocal range), but he really seems to favor love ballads. His favorite is November Rain by Guns n Roses, and the rest of the Akatsuki is shocked at how damn soulful he sounds singing it. If not singing or hustling drunks, he likes to spend some quiet time with Itachi, buying him snacks and coaxing the thin ((TOO thin, in Kisame’s opinion)) young man to eat.

Itachi

Is quiet and shy by nature, so naturally things like karaoke bars aren’t really his deal. But Kisame always insists that it’s good for him to get out ((out of the hideout and out of his head)) and socialize once in a while, so he goes. It’s the same deal as Konan, almost, where women flock to him and hit on him for nearly the entire duration of his visit. However, the group doesn’t act as a collective bodyguard for him, as the majority of them feel like he’d be better off, as Hidan delicately puts it, “If the fucker just got laid.” But Itachi doesn’t seem interested in anything like this; he’s polite to those who approach him, but so closed-off that eventually they give up. When one particularly persistent woman wouldn’t leave him alone, Itachi resorted to grabbing the person nearest him (who happened to be Deidara) and telling the admirer that he was his boyfriend. He even put his arm around the guy’s waist, squeezing him. Deidara went along with it, but after the woman left he angrily informed Itachi that he’d “blow your ass up if you ever try something like that again, hm!” That’s what he SAYS, but it should be noted that he blushes quite hard for some time afterwards. Itachi was only ever convicted to go up and sing one time, and it was a duet with Kisame. The song was “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie. At the end of the song, Kisame was beaming, and Itachi had more admirers than ever clamoring for his attention. Not used to late nights so if they’re out past midnight will usually fall asleep sitting at the bar, and be carried home (and put into bed) by Kisame.

#the akatsuki #karaoke #zetsu #deidara #sasori #hidan #kakuzu #pein #kisame #itachi #tobi #konan #headcanon #naruto shippuden

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Tedious Joys - Chapter 4 -

- Ao3 link -

It had been an inauspicious year to begin with.

A poor harvest led to famine among the common people, which in turn created conditions ripe for evil creatures of all sorts; the night-hunts that were often treated as playful competition by the cultivation world became more like the boring drudgery of everyday work, disciples setting off in packs on a regular basis all over, time and time again. The tension wore on the sects, some more than others, and dozens of small disputes began to rise up, needing to be dealt with. Lan Qiren’s schedule became busy, and then busier, and then became overwhelming; he was forced to discard one pastime after another in his efforts to hold back the rising tide, and in the end sacrificed sleep and sometimes meals to preserve only two: playing for Jiwei and spending time with his nephews.

It meant that he was unprepared, both mentally and physically, for word of the death of Cangse Sanren and her husband, which took over two years to finally come to ears of the Great Sects – such a shocking failure of information that Lan Qiren briefly wondered if it had been concealed intentionally.

The sudden shock of grief hit him hard.

He tried to convince himself that he had expected it, that she had expected it, that at least her son was now safe in the Lotus Pier, and yet all he could think about was that he had one less friend in the world. The sadness interfered with his focus, creeping in at all hours, uncontrollable, until one evening he was playing guqin with his nephews and looked up to find them both weeping uncontrollably from the music he was playing. When he tried to stop mid-song, he abruptly collapsed, and upon waking was informed that he had become feverish at some point in the night.

His sect doctors advised him to go into seclusion until he could control himself.

Lan Qiren refused.

They advised him again, this time with greater insistence, and with the support of his sect elders.

“Tell them to fuck off,” Lao Nie suggested, pouring a calming tea that he’d brought from Qinghe.

He’d come to visit with his sons, Nie Mingjue disappearing with Lan Xichen as always and Nie Huaisang engaged in the newest stage in his eternal battle of wills with Lan Wangji over a game of weiqi that they were both taking far, far too seriously.

(Despite knowing Lan Wangji and indeed Nie Huaisang better than most people alive, Lan Qiren honestly could not determine whether the two of them despised each other or were close friends. Lao Nie claimed the answer was both, simultaneously, but Lan Qiren didn’t understand that at all.)

“That is not how we do things here,” Lan Qiren said, accepting a cup. It was rude for him to allow a fellow sect leader who was his guest to serve him, rather than the other way around, but he had a headache from the persistent fever and exhaustion that was even more persistent, the boundless river of grief in his heart translating into physical agony, and anyway Lao Nie hadn’t exactly asked permission before proceeding. “It would be more appropriate for me to present a well-reasoned case for it not being necessary, based on rules, authority, and precedent.”

“Except you can’t put one together because you’re upset and tired,” Lao Nie said with a snort. “That’s stupid. You’re overworked, stretched too thin, you just found out that your friend is dead – you need sleep, not seclusion. Anyway, what happens if you do go into seclusion? Aren’t they always saying they need you to stick around to be Sect Leader so desperately?”

Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “It would not be true seclusion. I would be expected to continue certain parts of the work.”

“You’re joking.”

“It would be primarily administrative correspondence –”

“By that token, your brother ought to do it!”

Lan Qiren glared. “It’s not the same and you know it. And they are not wrong that I need rest.”

“From what I recall of what you’ve told me about your sect’s practice of seclusion, that’s not rest,” Lao Nie said acidly. “Surely there’s something I can do to help. I could send over some of my disciples…”

“Excellent idea,” Lan Qiren said, rolling his eyes. “We can replace all those rumors that I’ve been secretly pining for years over my best female friend with ones regarding my best male friend.”

“It is a little ‘hero rushes to save the lady’, isn’t it?” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, shaking his head in amusement. “But seriously, I came here for a reason, and it’s not Jiwei or A-Jue or anything like that. You’re always trying to help me, Qiren. For once, let me help you.”

Lan Qiren would normally protest this – because Lao Nie had so done many things for him over the years that it was an incorrect statement, because he hated the helpless feeling of letting someone do things for him, because that wasn’t something sect leaders did for each other – but he was tired and he feared seclusion and sometimes he thought it might be nice to do one thing that could be considered a little reckless before he died.

“Very well,” he said, closing his eyes and drinking the tea. “Do as you like.”

That was a dangerous thing to say to someone like Lao Nie, who promptly pulled three dozen Nie sect disciples from out of nowhere and sent them scurrying around hunting down evil with the energetic enthusiasm of youth entrusted with gigantic sabers and the freedom to use them as they would, while he himself settled in very happily in Lan Qiren’s home, sleeping on a guest bed, keeping away unwanted visitors and helping with any paperwork that didn’t explicitly require a Lan. He also recruited Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to assist, despite Lan Qiren’s protests that bureaucratic busywork was not an appropriate way for boys of approximately fifteen and definitely twelve, respectively, to spend their time; both of them very solemnly assured Lan Qiren that they were more than happy to do whatever they could.

Even little Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang bullied their way into being involved, insisting that they wanted to do it more than they wanted to train or play, although at their ages there really wasn’t much they could do besides grind ink and run messages to the relevant recipients.

As Lan Qiren might have expected, rumors immediately started about some sort of torrid affair – life would be so much easier if everyone obeyed the rules against gossiping purposelessly – and they even got to the point that several of the sect elders cautiously hinted to him that although cutsleeve relationships were far from being in vogue, they had at no point been explicitly forbidden by the rules, and cited several provisions which seemed to favor such things.

Lan Qiren had thanked them for the reminder and caustically commented that he would be sure to incorporate that into his next set of lectures as he could see no other reason for them to mention it, and soon enough they backed off, shaking their heads. Still, those busybodies that had his best interests in mind were still preferable to the ones that started once more raising the idea of finding him a nice bride of suitable age – by suitable age, they meant too old for children, lest he get any idea of challenging his brother’s line of descent – before he did anything foolish like fall in love, or, worse, to act on it.

Obviously he had no intentions of permitting that.

Still, after a month of enforced rest, Lan Qiren was feeling a bit more himself. He took on more and more of the work, albeit supervised by five sets of judging eyes, and even began to play once more, this time without bringing anyone to tears. Jiwei and Xinfei rested together by the door in comfortable equilibrium, hot and cold, weak and powerful, and the jade pendant that Lan Qiren carried with him remained cool to the touch, not hot at all.

“You will need to go soon,” he told Lao Nie, who shrugged, not denying it – a month was a long time for a sect leader to be away from home absent some valid excuse like a war, not quite too long but starting to push it. No matter how effective one’s deputies were nor how much work one did from a distance, a sect leader was still necessary, in the end, or else Lan Qiren’s life would have been very different.

“Next week,” he said. “That’ll give me just enough time to take the boys home before heading back out again for the conference in Qishan.”

“There’s a conference? I wasn’t informed.”

“No, you weren’t, because I didn’t inform you,” Lao Nie said, utterly shameless. “You’re going to stay here and rest. It’s just a stupid party.”

“That doesn’t matter if it is also a stupid party which everyone else is attending,” Lan Qiren said sternly.

“Jiang Fengmian isn’t going, either,” Lao Nie said. “Doesn’t want to leave his new ward alone just yet…newest rumor has it that Wei Wuxian’s his bastard with Cangse Sanren.”

Lan Qiren shut his eyes. “Of course. Wasn’t I the one having the affair with her last week?”

“Perhaps it was a love triangle?”

“A square, at minimum. Don’t forget she had a husband.”

“A pyramid!”

“Lao Nie…”

Lao Nie laughed. “Jin Guangshan isn’t making it, either. His wife’s giving birth – predictions say to a daughter, I think, assuming this one survives the birth – and all accounts say that she’s threatened to cut his balls off if he even thinks of leaving Lanling City. So, you see, it really is just a stupid party, and by missing it you’ll be doing just the same thing as all the other Great Sects.”

Lan Qiren felt a sudden stab of misgiving. “Except you.”

“Except me,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “Me and Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren truly did not want to know what went on in Lao Nie’s mind sometimes.

“Why don’t you refrain from going as well?” he asked, aware he sounded tetchy and irritable like some jealous wife in an opera. “If no one else is going.”

“Oh, I have to go. A-Han asked for me specifically,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren thought to himself oh I’m certain he did, then promptly felt bad about doing so. Sneering for no reason was prohibited. “Someone’s gifted him with some magnificent saber for his collection, apparently, and he was boasting that it was the best there was right up until someone stuck their nose in it and said that it was all well and good but no comparison to my Jiwei.”

Lan Qiren could imagine exactly how well a statement like that had gone over with Wen Ruohan.

“And now he’s demanding you show up and produce evidence?” he asked, unimpressed.

Lao Nie grinned. “Ah, Qiren, it’s almost like you’ve met the man before.”

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Lan Qiren said. “Why should you go just because he asked? He’s your equal, not your master.”

“There’s no harm in giving him some face.”

Lan Qiren could think of several ways that it could lead to harm, the inflation of Wen Ruohan’s already bloated ego being not the least of them, but Lao Nie was his equal as well, his equal and his elder. If the man had made up his mind, as it clearly appeared that he had, there was nothing Lan Qiren could say that would change it.

“Good luck, then,” he said, shaking his head, and called the boys to come in for dinner. As usual, the Lan half of the table remained mute while the Nie half did nothing but chatter, each according to their own family custom. It was a test of wills and endurance – Lan Wangji’s eye kept twitching every time Nie Huaisang filled in words for him, possibly due to the extremely high pitch Nie Huaisang chose to represent him – but it was a joy to share the time with them nonetheless.

Before Lao Nie left, Lan Qiren tried, not for the first time, to press the jade pendant that resonated with Jiwei into his hand. “You should take it with you,” he insisted. “Especially if you’re going to the Nightless City to exhibit your saber – there’s a great deal of resentful energy there, and you know that always gets Jiwei’s bloodlust up.”

“Which in turn will sharpen my reflexes, just when I need them most,” Lao Nie said, pressing the jade pendant right back into Lan Qiren’s hand. “Better you have it.”

“Lao Nie…”

“Jiwei likes you now,” Lao Nie said, as if that mattered. “She’s been just as avid to protect you as I’ve been, this past month – if I didn’t need her by my side, I’d almost be tempted to leave her here with you.”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I can’t protect myself? Here? In the Cloud Recesses?”

“Saber spirits are not smart, Qiren. But even she can tell that you’re not well yet.”

Lan Qiren waved a hand dismissively. “Well enough,” he said, and it was even true – the grief was still there, of course, and likely would be every time he thought of Cangse Sanren in the near future, excluding maybe the few times when it was one of his students that resembled her only in terms of how much mischief she would get up to, but it was no longer drowning him. He had hope that, in time, this wound would also scab over and the hurt fade, and that at that time he could once again think of her with nothing but joy.

Lao Nie huffed. “Well enough isn’t well,” he grumbled, but that didn’t stop him from gathering his children and his disciples and heading out back towards Qinghe. “Take care of yourself, Qiren! Be well!”

“And you,” Lan Qiren said. “Keep out of trouble, my friend.”

From what he later heard, the party at the Nightless City went about as anyone with half a brain might have expected: Wen Ruohan swanned around until Lao Nie showed up, there were tense words exchanged, and then Lao Nie produced Jiwei, allowing Wen Ruohan to examine her and even pat her a few times before the Wen sect leader was forced, with great reluctance and through gritted teeth, to admit her superiority to the saber he had received.

The stories ended there, but Lan Qiren had enough imagination to fill in how the rest of the night might have gone, especially with the only sect leaders there being Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan. He sincerely hoped that Lao Nie had remembered all those lectures he’d given him about the foolishness of lying in the same bed as poisonous snakes, no matter how beautiful they might be on the surface.

Perhaps he had, perhaps he hadn’t.

Either way, Lan Qiren heard nothing else until the day he interrupted his own afternoon lecture with a sudden cry of intense pain – the jade pendant had abruptly gone so hot that it had burned, and although his clothing, protected by stitched-in incantations, was unharmed, the heat was so severe that it had nevertheless left a mark on his thigh through all those layers.

Clutching at his leg, Lan Qiren ordered his students to run to fetch him cold water and a doctor, and wondered what in the world had happened.

A letter, he decided. He would write Lao Nie a letter to ask.

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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chanaihimaa · 3 years

Text

Character Rooster

Name: Chanai Himaa Nickname(s): Chan, Chai Age: 26 Gender: Nonbinary Transmasc Race: Auri - Xaela Sexuality: Homosexual/Demiromantic Pronouns: He/Him/They Relationship status: Single Looking for: Rivals, friends and lovers (but feel free to change his mind) A mage of the Red, a professional courtesan, intelligence gatherer; the knife Jace yields as he works close-knit with his circle and those of interest. The underground is where Chanai roams. When he isn’t, he is merely a traveling hobby painter with far too many knives on his person for just a ‘simple man’.

Name: Tarah Nbolo Nickname(s): Tar’ Race: Miqo’te Gender: Female Sexuality: Unsure/Questioning Pronouns: She/Her Relationship status: Taken - in a relationship with Jace Argyle Looking for: Rivals, friends and old lover(s)

Tarah is known in the underground circles for her thievery, smooth tongue in negotiating a deal and crimelord Dingo’s fair lady that never strays very far between him and her partner-in-crime, Jace. Together, the pair help give aid to the more poor and downtrodden in Ul’dah.

[o]

Name: Mahse’a Nbolo Nickname(s): Mahssie Age: 31 Race: Miqo’te Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Pronouns: He/Him Relationship status: Single Looking for: Rivals, friends and lovers

Mahse’a is Tarah’s older brother, and has “retired” from the underground circles in favor of finding some sort of calming comfort in mining. Retirement never stays for too long. The underground has a hold on him no other vice could compare to, a siren song he never fails to answer to. He doesn’t know how to tell Jace ‘no’ when he comes to him for aid. Maybe, just maybe, he’s too rooted to turn back.

[o]

Name: Hendina Coldren Nickname(s): Dina, DiDi Age: 31 Race: Hyur Gender: nonbinary Sexuality: Pansexual Pronouns: She/They Relationship status: Single Looking for: Rivals, friends and lovers

Hedina is a lover of science and tech. Laws of Physics, Creation, the art of counting cards and money laundering and, most importantly, Primals. Their study of Primals, Auris, and corrupted artifacts Tutu invests in are their pride and joy. Some would say they're a little mad around the edges. Dina would say they're mad enough. Prior to meeting Jace in a card game gone array, hardly much is known of Dina except for their cackle of glee when excited and her adamant disdain for being 'sniffed' in a casual card game with her favorite people.

[o]

Name: Hadrefort Branchais Nickname(s): "Adre"/Audrey Age: 36 Race: Half Elezen, half Hyur Gender: Male Sexuality: Bisexual/Biromantic Pronouns: He/Him Relationship status: in a relationship with Rena Skyfarer Looking for: Rivals, friends and old lover(s)

"Jack of all trades, master of none...or few,"Hadrefort often says, though he does have a unbridled love for reading, the performing arts and studying the stars, along with “collecting” old prohibited tomes and being a magnet for troublesome situations unable to stay away from him like an old lover.

[o]

Name: Kaideux Chaunollet Nickname(s): Kai Race: Elezen Gender: Male Sexuality: Homosexual Pronouns: He/Him Relationship status: Taken - in a relationship with Briarley Looking for: Friends and old lover(s)

Kai hails from Ishgard with nothing more but his bow and quiver, his love for botany and baking, and the crest of his family’s name on his back. Never admitting to the baggage he has left behind, he has made quite a home for himself in Gridania where he works at a local flower shop arranging and delivering bouquet assembles. In his spare time he makes baked treats to sell, always servicing with a radiant smile. He has a new life, now. That is more than enough to smile about.

[o]

Name: Charolette Nickname(s): Charo Age: 40 Race: Half Hyur, Half Auri - Raen Gender: Female Sexuality: Pansexual Pronouns: She/Her Looking for: Friends, patients and lovers

A nomadic doctor that practices the art of holistic, aetheric healing and single mother of twins, Charolette makes her living tending to patients of need, often traveling to their whereabouts if they are unable to. [o]

Name: Ashwin Kisser Nickname(s): Prefers “Spencer” more than anything Age: 29 Race: Hyur Gender: Genderfluid Sexuality: Spencer doesn't care about labels! Attraction is attraction, no matter who you are; if he fancies you, you will know. To Ash, labels in this regard is restricting himself. But if he had to pick one, he supposes Pan would fit. Maybe. Pronouns: he/her/she/his Relationship status: single Looking for: Rivals, friends, enemies, lovers Spencer enjoys working in his family-owned boutique in Ul’dah inherited to him after the tragic passing of his immediate family members. On the outside, it is a simple boutique that specializes in personal tailoring. Beneath the veil, it is nothing more but a crime-ran business that also offers quite the fine collection of various firearms and other weaponry for underbelly dwellers. [o]

Name: Kokiki Koki Nickname(s): Kiki Age: late twenties to early thirties Race: Lalafell Gender: Female Sexuality: Greysexual/ Demiromantic Pronouns: she/her Relationship status: single Looking for: Rivals, friends, enemies When you see Spencer, you will always see Kiki tailing not too far behind him. Kiki is Spencer’s proud assistant that stays on top of her knowledge concerning the in’s and out’s of fashion trends to help feed Spencer’s whirling creativity for the pieces he makes.

#ocs #ffxiv rp #my babies finally have debut #please treat them kindly #( ; v ; )#every one will get an aesthetic sideblog at some point

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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

Text

2.) Without Me--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: casual drinking, unprotected sex, fingering, slight angst

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

5 Years Ago

It’s raining cats and dogs on campus, the last night before graduation and Ashton is at one of the dive bars he frequented over his four years at school. There’s hardly anyone here and he’s staring at the bottle with his initials scrawled in golden loops with morose. After tomorrow when he walks across the stage, Ashton will take over the family whisky business. It’s been set in stone and passed on from generation to generation. It’s his namesake and his destiny.

“Go away! I don’t want to see you ever again and thank God after tomorrow I won’t have to!” A shrill voice erupts through the door. “Asshole!”

Ashton turns at the sudden outburst to see a beautiful girl drenched to the bone shaking off her coat before hanging it on the coat rack. Her hair hangs in wet strands reaching a little past her chest, her makeup is a bit smudged but damn, she’s a looker. Ashton’s seen her on campus and at parties but never knew her name.

She takes the seat one over from him.

“Rum and coke please, Teddy,” she asks the bartender setting her purse on the counter. She lets out a deep sigh and takes out a compact, snatches a napkin then dabs at her face. She closes the compact with a snap then smiles her thanks as her drink is presented before her. She drinks half of it in one go.

It hasn’t even been a minute and she’s already done so much to keep Ashton’s attention piqued. Who is this free-spirited woman?

“Can I help you?” her attention is directed at him, big eyes staring expectantly.

“Um, no, sorry you just…are you all right?” he asks.

“I am now,” she lifts her glass and takes another sip. “And now that my asshole boyfriend is an ex. I’m so glad I’m graduating tomorrow.”

“You are too? Congratulations,” Ashton grins and she smiles back.

“What’s your name? I’ve seen you around campus before.”

“I’m Ashton,” he holds out his hand making sure not to give his last name. Even if it is stamped on a bottle nearly six feet away.

“Cressida,” she returns and takes his hand.

Her hand is cold and wet from the rain, but a spark of electricity is transferred through them. They jump at the contact and laugh.

“I’ve never heard a name like that before.”

“My parents love Greek mythology. It means gold.”

“It’s also the third precious metal,” Ashton adds. Cressida raises her eyebrows and laughs. He only knows this because his family is trying a new concoction to add gold flakes in their newest whisky brand.

“What’s the first?”

“I have no idea,” he chuckles. “I should have paid more attention in science class. I remember gold because it’s beautiful, useful, and rare.”

“Are you sure you’re still talking about the gold or is this your Segway into a pick-up line?”

“No, no, I swear that’s not what I’m—”

“I mean it’s working in your favor, Ashton, so by all means,” she smiles interrupting his apology.

“Oh, it is, is it?”

Her eyes move to his empty glass.

“Let me buy you a drink, what’s your poison?”

Ashton doesn’t want to say whisky, it’s been on his mind since he was old enough to understand what it was. He’s also worried if he says it, Cressida will immediately know who he is. His family’s whisky is known all around the world.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

An hour later they’re stools are so close together her legs have somehow found their way over his, and Ashton loves the warmth through his jeans. She notices the gold ring on his finger with a small ruby nestled inside.

“Is this real gold?” she asks tracing it with her pinky.

“Are you going to rob me?” he jokes.

“No, gold is only the third precious metal after all,” she giggles.

“It’s real. It was my great grandfather’s,” Ashton nods.

“It’s pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

Cressida’s eyes sparkle up to his and the way he’s looking at her makes her stomach flip and her cheeks heat up. No one has ever looked at her with such intensity before, not even her asshole boyfriend.

“Are you doing anything between now and walking the stage tomorrow?” she asks taking a leap. Ashton shakes his head, and she leans forward, her lips grazing his cheek before touching his ear. “Wanna do me?”

Ashton slaps down some bills on the bar and moves towards the door as quick as he can helping her put her coat on. He notices there isn’t a hood, but he brought an umbrella.

“My apartment is only ten minutes away,” he says holding up his red umbrella.

They walk through the rain filled street, her arm looped through his as they talk about school and friends and what their next step is after graduation. Ashton tries to deter that conversation from him, he wants to forget about it if only for a night. And Cressida is the perfect distraction.

“I’m going to spend the summer in Europe,” she says, “I’ll be in charge of my family’s business soon, so I want a bit more freedom. I’m going to visit all of the museums and the historical landmarks.”

“That sounds really great, I wish I could do that.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m also taking over my family’s business as soon as I cross the stage it’s mine. It’s a big responsibility.”

She hums in acknowledgment then gasps when he stops at his building. It’s only slightly ostentatious with a secured door and a security guard inside. She’s staring at the gold mailbox slots when Ashton spins her into the elevator, she giggles against his chest. Then Ashton cups her cheek and slots his lips with hers.

She tastes like rum and coke and a night to remember, his last night of freedom. They’re stumbling through his door, removing clothes as quickly as possible. They roll around his sheets, laughing and moaning and exploring each other’s bodies. Ashton rocks into her and she moves easily, picking up on his pace like this is the hundredth time instead of the first.

“Wow,” she huffs when he collapses on top of her after he came in the condom.

“I’ll say,” he grins and pecks her nose before rolling off her to remove the condom. He retrieves two bottles of water and hands her one, climbing in next to her.

“So, Ashton,” she sighs staring at him with mussed up hair. “What is your family business?”

“I…I don’t know if I want to tell you.”

“What? Are you part of the mafia?” she snickers twisting her hair into a very loose braid. The ends of her hair tickle her nipple and Ashton slides his eyes to her face.

“No,” he laughs, “It’s just…people treat me differently when they know.”

“I can relate to that, that’s why I don’t go around shouting mine from the rooftops either. Tell me, I promise I will still look at you as the guy who picked me up at a bar because of a gold fact.”

Ashton rolls his eyes then takes a deep breath.

“All right. My family owns Irwin Whisky, my grandfather created it back in the prohibition days. After tomorrow, I’m in charge.”

Cressida is silent for a long time, just staring at him with a vacant expression on her face.

“What? What is it?” Ashton asks in alarm sitting up straight.

“Ashton, my last name is James. As in James Brandy.”

Ashton’s heart plummets to his stomach. While he was learning about whisky growing up he also learned that his grandfather started the business with his good friend, Walter James. After the prohibition was over, they joined all of their assets to get the company rolling.

Then there was a fallout due to unpaid expenses and a deal Walter made without consulting Ashton’s great grandfather Frank that could have upended the company before it really started. Ashton learned about distillery and grains and wheat and also to never, ever interact with a James’ family member. All they’ll do is double cross you and keep secrets.

And now he just had sex with his family’s enemy.

Ashton and Cressida meet each other’s eye before they both leap out of bed. He’s quickly pulling on some pants while she’s slipping her sweater over her head, both of them shouting nonsensical words in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me at the bar?!” she demands.

“I just told you I don’t go around saying my name because people treat me differently! You didn’t tell me yours either!”

“How was I supposed to know I was hitting on an Irwin!” she rages trying to find her pants. “No one can ever know about this; oh, my mother would kill me!”

“At least you’re going to Europe for three months,” Ashton seethes.

“You could go too, you know. Just because you’re taking over the business doesn’t mean you’re trapped,” she snaps.

“Then why are you going?”

She lets out an angry huff and throws her hands in the air. “My trip doesn’t matter right now! What matters is that we just had sex.”

“Yeah, I was there,” he rolls his eyes then stops his actions of frantically moving about. He’s not even sure why he was doing so, it’s not like the SWAT team was going to come bursting through his door. “Wait, wait, what are we doing?”

“I’m trying to find my pants so I can leave!”

Ashton rushes in front of her and grabs her shoulders, he shakes her slightly until she’s looking at him.

“No, I mean…why are we acting like the ceiling is going to collapse? Was it a mistake we did this? Probably, but I don’t regret it Cressida, not one bit. You’re…”

“I’m what?” her eyes are blazing and that’s when Ashton notices the small flecks of gold inside of them.

“You’re gold; precious and beautiful and the rarest girl I’ve ever met in my life. No one has to know about this except us,” he shakes his head.

“You’re saying ‘this’ as if ‘this’ is something…”

“It could be,” he shrugs, his eyes imploring her to meet him in the middle. “I thought this was going to be a one-time thing, but after being with you…and hearing you’re going to Europe. I want that, too.”

“You want to go to Europe with me? Ashton, we just met and found out our families are like the Montagues and the Capulets. Do you remember the ending to that story?”

“I’m not saying we share the same car to the airport where we can be seen together. I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

“Ash, this is crazy!”

“If it’s so crazy then why aren’t you still trying to find your clothes?”

She opens her mouth to retort something but closes it because she has nothing to say. Even though they just met, that spark they felt at the bar continued to his bed. It was as if they knew each other from a different life and were reconnecting all over again.

“Maybe I’ll make the mistake and book a trip to Europe and mistakenly run into you at an art museum,” he says tugging her sweater off her again. “And maybe I’ll mistakenly lose my hotel key and stay with you.”

He bends down pressing his lips to her neck where he sucked a mark only forty-five minutes ago. Cressida sighs into him, her hands holding onto his neck as he kisses the lobe of her ear.

“How does that sound?”

She can picture it. They’ll be in another country where their family won’t see unless photographers capture them, but they both aren’t the face of the name of their family business yet. They’re still young and free for a little while longer. She’s happy she stumbled into the bar where he as and that he found her when her heart was broke.

“Then be my mistake,” she sighs capturing his lips with hers and they fall back onto the bed a tangle of limbs and moans.

“What’s on your mind over there?” she asks while they have breakfast on the balcony. The sun is warm on their backs as they indulge in pancakes, waffles, and bacon.

“I’m thinking of Europe,” he squeezes her calf that is resting on his lap. When they woke up she didn’t bring up the night before of her crying and he didn’t either, but the axe is still hanging over their heads. It’s only a matter of time before it comes striking down.

“That was the longest we were together,” she smiles fondly at the memory of many late starts in the morning. “I loved those three months. And now we only have three—”

“Cressida, don’t,” Ashton shakes his head and sets his espresso cup on the saucer. He drags her onto his lap, and she hooks her arms around his neck and shoulders. “We’ve agreed that when we’re here, the outside world doesn’t exist. We have until Monday to face the music.”

“The music won’t shut up in my head,” she knocks her forehead against his.

“I think I can help with that,” he mutters slipping his hand under the hem of her robe.

Cressida gasps as his finger nudges her center, she tries to kiss him, but her attention is otherwise occupied on his finger that is now twiddling inside her. Her back arches as she rocks on top of him, the shoulder of her robe falls down exposing her breast that Ashton quickly sucks into his mouth. Cressida moans in pleasure from both stimulations, she spreads her legs wider and Ashton bites onto her nipple.

“So pretty when you moan,” he mumbles on her skin and adds another finger. He works her over, scissoring and twiddling against her walls as his thumb presses against her clit harshly.

“Ash!” she chokes out yanking on his hair.

“That’s right, I’m the only thing that should be on your mind. Come for me, baby.”

He moves his arm faster and her toes curl as her head spins in pleasure. She’s panting his name like a prayer then finally slips her tongue in his mouth. This kiss reminds her of their last morning in Europe. They were having breakfast and the finality of their time together loomed over them like a dark cloud. Neither one of them wanted to go because they didn’t know when the next time they’d see each other would be.

She kisses him more fiercely, trying to push that sad memory away and the dark cloud that’s above them now. Sensing her urgency, Ashton removes his fingers from inside her and carries her into the room. She drops to the bed untying her robe watching with hunger in her eyes as he removes his loose sweatpants. He’s already hard and throbbing for her.

Ashton pushes her knees to her chest, kissing over the initials he branded on her skin last night, over her navel and finally to her mouth. He pushes himself inside her, they both groan at him going in dry but he knows it won’t be long until she’s lubricated herself for him.

“You’re perfect for me,” Ashton sighs rocking his hips into hers. The dry rub is becoming more fluid as he thrusts shallowly in and out of her.

“You’re my gold,” her nails scrape into his 5 o’clock shadow and nips at his lips.

“No baby,” he gives her a deep thrust that has her moan loudly. “That’s you.”

When she’s slick enough, Ashton flips her over onto her stomach, her face pressed to the robe and her hair draped over her back gloriously.

“Ready for me, angel?” he asks gripping her hips tightly and presses between her folds.

“Always.”

Ashton drives himself into her, skin slapping against skin drifts outside in the morning breeze. He fucks into her desperately, wanting this moment to last forever and when she starts to rock back against him, he swears he sees stars. They’re frantic, it’s chaotic, it’s their secret of this love affair in physical form.

“Right there, Ash, yes!” she mewls tossing her head back.

Ashton fists his hand into her hair, tilting her head up so he can suck on her neck as he continues to plow into her. She’s choking on moans and his name, begging for her release.

“Give it to me, Cressida,” he breathes, and she falls apart at the sound of her name.

She squeezes on his cock and Ashton can’t hold on much longer from that as she relishes in her orgasm. Before he can comprehend what’s happening, he’s spilling inside her and they collapse onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat. He’s never come inside her before, a rule they agreed on together because that would only complicate things more. But this weekend, all bets are off.

Her hair sticks to his chest and he trembles, rocking his hips until he’s finished. Ashton brushes her hair from her back, and he kisses sweetly onto her spine while Cressida gathers her breath. She gathers his fingers with hers, bringing them to her lips and kisses them. He breathes her in, a mixture of her own scent and his combined. It’s intoxicating.

“I’ll go get a towel,” he inhales heavily through his nose, the air whistling in her hair.

“Not yet…stay a little longer,” she tightens her hold on his fingers.

He stays until he feels her heartbeat slow against his hand on her chest. With one final kiss he pulls himself gingerly out of her. They both wince at the loss of warmth.

“I’m sorry. I know we agreed not to do that,” he apologizes cleaning her.

She rolls over scooting to the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton kisses her hair.

“I’m not sorry. It’s harder to let go now,” she sniffs.

“I know.”

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @littledrummeraussie @sexgodashton @f-mu @mystic-232

#lias #lias fic #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin au #ashton 5sos #ashton 5sos writing #ashton fic

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years

Text

to build a home {dark!bucky barnes x fem!reader}

status — ongoing (?) idk i had a second part in mind but we’ll see

warnings — somnophilia (so non-con), male mastubration, unprotected penetrative sex (in my head the reader has birth control), rough sex, hints at breeding kink, slight praise kink, degradation, attempt at fluff, i think thats all but let me know if i miss something

word count — 9,351 words

a/n — i had this idea for an airbnb thing where the host was into the guest and perfect timing that @imanuglywombat was having a challenge, congratulations by the way on your achievement! and one of the moodboards was a mountain-themed one (the one at the left) and the prompt that i chose was By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top/I climbed the tree to see the world/When the gusts came around to blow me down/I held on as tightly as you held onto me which is an excerpt from the song to build a home by the cinematic orchestra. i tried not to directly quote the lyrics but instead imply it as best as i can. had fun writing this and was the longest fic i’ve ever written. feedback would be very much appreciated,, have a great day and stay safe guys!

masterlist

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation.

Needed, not wanted or desired, for it was what he required in order to function like a proper human being. Considering every bullshit he’s been through — the world war, the brainwashing, fighting for his life, dying and then being brought back to life — he was definitely entitled to a break.

After bringing everyone back, the team now strives to bring back order and peace. Bucky agreed to be part of the Avengers and SHIELD, but with a unique position. He’d train and prepare their recruits by whipping them into shape and go on missions only if he was deemed as an essential asset. The only reason he took that position because that was what Steve did as he passed down the title of Captain America to Sam. Stark too just became one of the representatives of the organization in order to focus on his family.

It was tricky at first — looking for food and water, source of electricity, gathering supplies, and having the money to do so. That’s when Tony suggested he put his a-framed house on an application called Airbnb. He was confused at first but his simple understanding was that someone would pay him if he agreed to share his house for a given number of days.

The suggestion worked well. Most of those who booked stayed one day and one night, the longest someone stayed was two days and a night. And it wasn’t because he used to be the Winter Soldier and they feared him, but simply because they needed a place to stay before heading up further into the mountains.

Despite the house having three bedrooms, Bucky only posted one being available. The other two bedrooms he prohibited the guests to stay on, even to enter, since those were reserved for him and Steve. Vacationers who stayed in here were very much respectful of his wishes and didn’t pry further more.

As he was watering the selection of plants, vegetables, and fruits that he has, he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Setting the watering can down, he pulled out his phone and noticed how there was notification saying that someone booked the available bedroom he had.

“Booked for 2 weeks?” He read out loud the details of how long the stay of his upcoming visitor would last. It was odd to say the least, but who was he to judge someone for their stay? Tucking the phone back to his pants, he noticed how Alpine was drinking from the watering can he put down, he stroked her fur and smiled when he purred and nuzzled her face further into his palm, “Looks like we’ll have someone staying with us for quite a while, Al,” the 3 month old kitten simply looked up at him and purred once more, “Be a good girl for me alright?”

Following the notice that someone was gonna stay in his house for two weeks, Bucky busied himself in preparing the house — which took only two days for him to do so. He made sure that the rented bedroom was cleaned and that the bed sheets were changed and cleaned. Cleaning up Alpine’s hairballs and fallen furs was something he also did in preparation.

It was a sunny Tuesday morning and he was sitting down on one of the patio chairs, reading a book with Alpine on his lap, when he heard a car pulling up. Setting the book down on the small patio table, he took in the Jeep Wrangler that was parking, but what really caught his attention was who stepped out of the car.

“Hi, I’m Y/N! Are you Bucky? The one who owns the place I’ll be renting for the next two weeks?” Her tone was gentle and friendly, but it was her smile that really captured Bucky’s attention even more. Shakily, he replied, “Yeah, it’s me. Nice to meet you,” he held out his right hand — his other hand had a glove to conceal the metal — for her to shake, to which she shook his hand.

“Oh there’s the cat you mentioned,” she unclasped her hand with his and took note of the fur ball that was standing beside Bucky — it was just really her way of getting his attention and wanting more rubs. “Oh yeah, this is Alpine, hope you’re not allergic or anything?” he wondered as he picked Alpine up and massaged her face a bit, to which she purred loudly.

Y/N chuckled at the scene in front of her, “Not allergic, just wasn’t around cats a lot so I’m not used to them.” Bucky admired her honesty and assured her, “Well don’t worry about her, she’s extremely well-behaved.”

Usually, the guests had no problem bringing in their things from their respective cars and into their room. But there was something about her aura and personality that made him want to stay close to her as much as he could. So he suggested that he help her in bringing in her items. “Did you run away or something? Because I’m telling you now, near the mountains might not be the ideal place to do so,” he joked as he carried two of her duffel bags. As he opened the door to where she’d be sleeping for almost half a month, he put down her bags on top of the dresser.

Y/N set down the backpack and messenger bag she had near the night side table, “Well if the mountains aren’t ideal, then why are you here then?” she retorted back as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Bucky leaned on the dresser and crossed his arms and looked at her with wonder, “So you’re gonna turn this back on me huh?” he teased her.

To which she giggled at, “I’ll tell you my reason for staying here for two weeks if you tell me how you ended up here,” she persuaded him. He sighed dramatically and smiled right after hearing her laugh again at his antics, “The simple answer? I’m here for a vacation. A much needed and a long overdue one at that. How about you?”

She pursed her lips and nodded, she felt that maybe there was more to that but didn’t want to seem nosy so she explained her stay, “Well I’m here to test out some mountain and hiking equipment. It’s my work actually we’re this company that advertises and reaches out to endorsers and tells them about certain products like that one,” she pointed to the duffel bags behind him, “I get to test them, give them an honest review of the products and then let them know.”

“Huh, that’s a unique job,” he said as he ran his hand on his stubbled chin, “Well, I’m gonna let you settle down for now. Feel free to roam around the house, the other two bedrooms are the only ones off-limits,” he informed her and started to make his way out of the bedroom when he heard her call out, “Thanks, Bucky! You’re a great host, so far. Just let me know when I annoy you too much!”

Though it was meant to be a joke, the super soldier thought to himself, Don’t think you will ever annoy me, baby girl.

Before it was even noon, Bucky found himself preparing pasta. What was unusual, is that he was making food enough for the both of them. Usually, he wouldn’t go out of his way to prepare meals for his guests; but he would allow them to use the kitchen as they please as long given that they clean it up after and place things back as they were. But there was something about Y/N that inspired him to make an effort.

Just as he turned the stove off and closed the lid with his left hand that had an oven mitt, he heard footsteps coming from the stairs, and he looked up to see her descending form and smiled warmly at her, “I cooked some pasta, just if you wanna eat or something,” he nervously mumbled as she finally stopped on the opposite side of where he was and sat down on one of the bar stools. “Smells good, I’d love to have a bite if you will too.”

Bucky then brought out two bowls and as he filled them with pasta, Alpine was clawing at his feet and her paws felt a bit warm to his legs that were exposed since he was wearing basketball shorts. As he handed her one of the bowls, he bent down and tucked his beloved kitten onto the sweater he wore, so her head was the only thing seen as it dangled from the neckline of his sweater. “That’s adorable! She just really loves you doesn’t she?” Y/N cooed watching how the kitten peacefully closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Bucky even though he walked around before sitting down beside her, she noticed as well how he didn’t care to remove the mitt on his left hand.

“I was surprised as well with how she loved human touch, which made me think that she isn't a cat but instead a dog, actually,” he shared as she looked at Y/N and smiled as she laughed as she ate. “Though I am curious as to why you’re wearing a sweater when it’s one of the hottest days of July?” As soon as the question left her mouth, she felt how there had been a shift in the atmosphere. How the fun and breezy energy they both were radiating earlier had been converted into something that was stiff and somber.

“I mean, you don’t really need to tell me,” she assured him right away, her right hand reaching for his left forearm and she gently caressed it even though she found it odd how his arm seemed to be more rigid than it looked like, “I was just worried that you might get too hot to the point of dehydration or heat stroke or something like that.” Bucky nodded and went back to ingesting the meal he cooked.

“You’re already hot, but I don’t want you to be too hot to the point you combust,” that comment of hers was something she muttered lowly. But it wasn’t soft enough to get past his super soldier hearing, “Did you say something?” Bucky asked and he tried his best for his facial features to not give away the fact that he heard her clearly. With wide eyes, she just shook her head and quickly filled her mouth with pasta to avoid explaining what it was she said.

Deciding to spare her from shame and embarrassment, he decided to change the topic by asking, “Do you have an itinerary for today?” He looked at her and saw how she had already finished her pasta and was making a move to wash her bowl and utensils, “I’m planning to go for a bit of hike — to test out some items like trekking poles, water jug, backpack, and this windbreaker they made me try out.”

“That sounds fun,” Bucky commented as he placed the fork on his bowl, waiting for her to finish cleaning up, “Would you wanna tag along with me?” as she looked up to ask him, she looked nervous. Perhaps she was filled with doubts and hesitation that she might seem invasive of his privacy, and indeed, that was what she was thinking about.

Smiling warmly at her, Bucky expressed his desire to join her in the hike, “I’d love to join you, doll.”

45 minutes had already passed since they started their hike and there was probably a few more minutes before they would finally reach the higher portion of the mountain. “I think it’s great you agreed to come along with me, Bucky,” the super soldier heard her mention behind him. He was taking the lead and guiding her as she followed him and held on to her trekking poles to stabilize her. “Why’d you think that, doll?” He looked back to her and held his right hand for her to take, to which she did and helped her go higher than to where she was currently.

She let out a breath, which made him chuckle at her antics, “Well for one, I wouldn’t have an amazing tour guide,” she teased him as she jokingly nudged his abdomen with her finger. Normally, Bucky would flinch or turn away when someone he doesn’t really know or is not completely familiar with touches him, especially when it was the metal arm. But this was already the third time she’d touch her and in those three times he did once did not find it uncomfortable.

“And second, I’d get lonely during this trip,” she concluded as she smiled brightly at him. “I’m glad to have joined you as well, doll.” The nickname he gave her made her blush to which he thought that the rose color looked good on her. “And I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s an amazing view behind me. So enjoy the view, doll.” When Bucky moved to the side, that was when Y/N had a chance to fully see the view, and it was unlike anything she has ever seen. The clear lake was breathtaking & the clouds were scattered in the sky though it did not shelter the sunlight. “Wow,” she breathed out and turned to her host and tilted her head when he saw his gloved hands reaching for his backpack and getting a blanket and laid it on the ground. As he sat on it, he patted the spot beside him, a cue for her to take the spot.

Putting her backpack down, she placed the trekking poles beside it before settling on the spot the man beside her patted. “You come here often?” she inquired, she was pretty sure he did since he knew how to get there quickly and safely. “Not everyday, just when I’m bored with housework,” he said as he took off the glove in his right hand.

She nodded and went to get the thermos from her backpack, as well as some chips and chocolates that she offered him, to which the super soldier opted for the chocolate. “So it means you are always here then huh?” she joked to which he laughed loudly, and she thought how adorable it was to see him crinkle the side of his eyes as he carelessly threw his head back in laughter. “I’m serious! You can only do so much housework before you get bored in your house!” she argued.

“Honestly, I’d rather be bored,” Bucky started as he munched on the chocolate she’d given, “For the longest time I was always busy, to put it nicely. And it’s a relief to be ridden of exhausting responsibilities.” Her heart ached at what he said, she might have not fully known what his work was but she could feel the exasperation in his voice. “Sorry for what I said, I was just teasing you,” she offered him a small smile.

Tickling her sides, he relished in the giggles she released, “I know, we don’t need to bring the mood down,” he assured her, “So, what is your review so far of the items you have?” His mention of it did remind her how she needed to take note of how she was satisfied or dissatisfied with the products, shuffling through the things in her backpack, she reached for the notebook which housed the feedback she had for different products.

Writing down her remarks, she also voiced it out for Bucky to hear, “The water jug did keep my water cold. Backpack’s material was not too heavy but it was able to fit all of my items. And this windbreaker,” she struck a pose which once again made Bucky laugh and it made her feel good to know that she can get him to laugh, “Did make me sweat but it’s too thin it’s making me chilly.”

Just as she mentioned how the windbreaker failed to prevent her from feeling cold, there was a gust of cool wind that when she felt it graze her skin, made her visibly shiver. Bucky didn’t like how she frowned on the sensation of being hit with the frosty breeze and wrapped her arms around herself; despite only wearing his sweater and a jacket, he didn’t have to react the same way thanks to the serum. He moved behind her and pressed his chest against her back, wrapping both his arms around her; his right hand wrapped around her stomach while the left hand rested on her thigh.

A sharp intake of breath signified how she was taken aback, but she didn’t find it awkward and instead she found herself instinctively leaning against his chest until the top of her head was just right under his chin. “Is this alright?” she wondered to him, and when she sounded so small, so vulnerable. As he smiled, he comforted her, “Wouldn’t have come close to you if it wasn’t alright, now would I?”

To hide the blush starting to form, she turned away from him and began to write on her notebook about her observations. They sat comfortably in silence; Bucky’s eyes wandered around the scenery, while Y/N was heavily focused on writing the feedback for the different products she got to try so far. The hand on her thigh that was gently caressing her and the steady yet strong heartbeat of the man behind her provided her with a sense of tranquility unlike anything she ever felt.

Leaving the pen on the inside of the notebook, she closed it and placed it beside her backpack. While still looking at the lake she shared with him, “I’ve always wanted to live by the lake.” Not having enough of her warmth and wanting to be close to her, he pushed himself even closer to her, to the point their thighs were now touching each other. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back so the back of her head touched his right shoulder, “Always loved being in the water — whether I’m swimming or rowing a boat. Doesn’t matter what as long as I’m near the water I’m the happiest there.” As she said that he couldn’t help as his mind was filled with the images of the two of them living together and going for daily trips to the lake. And how they’d probably end up fucking or making love by the lake.

Managing to bring himself back to the present, Bucky suggested, “Why not live with me then? That way you’ll always be a few minutes away from the lake.” Her laugh was so loud that he felt the vibrations of it through his chest with how close they were. “Don’t wanna burden you forever, you know? But maybe when I’ve saved enough and I don’t know, have the ability to work from home, I might just move near a lake.”

He frowned at her thought that she considered himself a burden. They’ve spent almost a day and yet he knew in himself how he wanted to spend every day of his life with her. It might seem too soon for that, but he argued that he felt safe with her. That she made him happy. But there was this thought that lingered on his mind; that he was just deprived of affection for the longest time and now that someone’s been showering him with it, he doesn’t want to go a day without experiencing it ever again.

“Well, you’re always welcome in my house, it’s not really much of a home to me anyway,” the optimism in the first part was overshadowed by the sadness in the latter part of his statement. She looked over at Bucky and was saddened to see how his shoulders dropped and there was a sad smile on his lips, “What?” Because what else could she really say?

His eyes refused to meet her concerned orbs, and instead looked at anything but her. “With everything I’ve been through and done, it would be difficult for me to find someone to settle down with.” Upon hearing this, Y/N felt glum with Bucky's response and with how he looked as he said it. She held his right hand and squeezed it reassuringly, “Whatever it is you’ve done and been through is in the past. I’m sure that you’ve changed and grown from who you once were. You deserve to be happy, Bucky.”

What if I wanna be happy with you, baby? He thought to himself for a few seconds, and in a split second decision, he unclasped their hands and reached to where his left hand was still wrapped with a glove. “I’m going to be showing you something, and before you can ask me anything, I’d rather get everything off my chest first, alright?” Y/N looked uneasy yet at the same time curious with what he was going to open up to her.

Untangling his arms from her warmth, he first took care of removing the jacket he wore. She turned to face him and was eager to ask questions but chose to remain silent. As he placed the jacket on top of his bag, he removed the glove that shielded her from fully seeing the lack of flesh on his left hand and instead was greeted with metal.

Y/N lets out a loud gasp as she looks down on the prosthetic arm Bucky had. As her gaze shifted from his hand to his eyes, the super soldier could see how her face wrinkled not in pity, but in worry and concern. What happened? Who did this to you? Did it hurt? Are you still in pain? Those were the four questions that were loitering her mind and Bucky somehow had the idea that those were the things that she had in mind.

“I don’t know if you know, but I was the Winter Soldier. HYDRA, an evil organization, brainwashed me and made me do their dirty work. When they found me, I had fallen off a ravine which made me lose my arm. They gave me a metal one, to make me stronger and more invincible I guess.” Even though he only provided her a summary of what he’s been through, he failed to realize how a few stray tears escaped his eyes. Dainty and delicate fingers wiped his tears away and he smiled at the action.

They both were silent for a few moments, the hundred year old man was bracing himself for the moment Y/N was going to bid him adieu, and he wouldn’t blame her for who would want someone with so much baggage? “You said it yourself, Bucky, you were brainwashed,” she soothed him as her hands settled on his stubbled cheeks and her touch was feather-like and was giving him comfort unlike any other, “That wasn’t what you wanted to do. They forced you to do it. I’m sorry that that happened to you, but you don’t need to let your past define how your future will turn out to be. You’re free now, you take control of your fate.”

She ended her statement by placing a warm kiss on his forehead; the action had Bucky smiling and looking at her sheepishly with crimson in his cheeks. “You’re too kind, doll,” he shyly responded to her assurance. “I meant every word, Bucky. You deserve to be happy,” she then hugged him tight, her smaller frame snuggling into his larger one. With the side of her face resting on his chest and his chin resting on the top of her head, she failed to see how Bucky was smiling widely as a thought and plan came into his mind. I will be happy, baby. Soon, with you.

Following their small heart-to-heart talk, they both went home just as the sun set — not before taking a few pictures of course, mostly of Y/N because Bucky loved how the combination of pink and yellow complimented her skin — so he wanted to take photographs to remind him of this lovely memory. And as they both went home, they bonded even more as they ate dinner.

The following day, however, they both didn’t get to spend as much time as Bucky would have wanted. She told him during breakfast how today she’ll try the pocket WiFi that was given to her. And in the process of doing so she would be having meetings with some of her co-workers. Instead of sulking around, the war veteran tended to his garden, harvesting the vegetables and plants that he deemed were already ready to be eaten, he also washed and dried his laundry, and cleaned Alpine’s litter box.

By the time he had done all his chores, it was already quarter to 5 pm when he settled on continuing to read the book on the porch with Alpine once again laying on his lap. Today’s heat had been more cruel than it was yesterday and with his lovely guest not knowing about the truth of his left arm, he traded the long sleeves for a tank top paired with basketball shorts. Just as he was reading about the climax of the novel, he heard the front door opening and footsteps approaching him, “Hey Bucky, how you doing?”

The mentioned man placed his book down on the table and turned to her with a smile, “Busied myself with housework. Are you done with your test and meetings?” He hoped that she was done with her work, he already missed spending time with her and he wondered that maybe this was what Alpine felt like whenever she wanted to be snuggling next to Bucky. “Yeah I’m done for today! And I was thinking that maybe I can cook something? Was there something you’d like to have for dinner?”

The cheeky part of him thought of telling her how he’d love to have her for dinner but decided he did not want to creep her out. “Surprise me with you culinary skills, doll,” he challenged her and he chuckled with how she responded, “You bet! I’ll make a meal that will make you forget your name with how good it is!”

Throughout the entire time that she made the meal, he kept her company and the conversation between the two flowed effortlessly. Every possible topic that they could talk about, you can bet that they talked about it. And even as they were both eating supper, they both shared more about their personal life. Bucky shared about how things were back in the 40’s and how he missed dancing.; while she shared more about her family and the different jobs she had.

One thing that Bucky was more than pleased to find out was that she was single and had not been dating anyone for a while. After dinner, Y/N found herself wanting to sleep right away due to exhaustion of her work-filled day. But before she did, she asked Bucky if it was alright for them to go back to the lake since she wanted to go for a swim, to which he replied with, “If it’ll make you happy, doll, then I’ll do it.” She masked the giddiness she felt by telling him goodnight and how she couldn’t wait to go.

As the super soldier laid down on his bed, he couldn’t prevent the goofy grin forming on his lips as he recalled how close he got with one of his guests. He never imagined how she could have made this impact on him in a short amount of time. Though he failed to bond with her for the majority of the day, he reassured himself that tomorrow — and possibly the next few days — they’d both get to make up for it. But there was something inside him that seemed too impatient to wait, and instead was extremely eager to start compensating for the time they failed to spend with each other.

Which led him to where he was right now; walking out of his bedroom as he strides with purpose and like a possessed man making his way to where the girl who plagued his mind currently was peacefully sleeping. Quietly, he opened the door just enough for him to take a peek to see if she was startled by the action even though Bucky did so with caution. Not noticing any movement or reaction, he opened the door wide enough to allow himself to enter and closed it as he welcomed himself in her room. Standing at the foot of the bed, he couldn’t help but admire her sleeping form; she was laying on her right side with her right hand pressed to her cheek and her left arm propped down on her waist. He noticed how the end of the blanket that was draped over was along the middle region of her thighs, exposing her lower legs.

He stood there, marveling at how peaceful and how pure she looked. He imagined himself snuggling her frame and providing her with warmth whenever the night got too chilly. Or how he wouldn’t mind her using his metal arm as her pillow as long as he got to run his fingers through her skin in an attempt to lull her to sleep. Or how he would whisper sweet nothings and words of assurance to her should she awake due to a nightmare.

The wholesome and loving thoughts he had took a different turn when her left hand unconsciously bunched up the sheets and moved it away from her body, which exposed her unclothed body to the hungry eyes of Bucky. She laid there with no clothing of any kind and the blanket — which was now pooling between her under boob and just below her navel — now barely concealed her body. His gaze was now roaming around her body and hungirly took in the view; her breasts looking as if it was the most delectable thing he’d ever seen with her gum drop nipples all stiff due to the wind, her luscious legs were just begging to be touched and worshiped, and her cunt, that though he couldn’t properly get an entire view of due to how she was facing the wall but from from where he stood he can see how pretty and enticing it was with how she chose to groom it.

One thing that he was more than grateful for is that her ass was fully exposed and should he choose to sit on the chair that was right across where she laid, he would have gotten a great view of it; and so he did. Sitting down on the chair, he found himself lowering the boxer shorts he wore that suddenly became too tight for his cock that hardened. “Fuck,” he hissed as he began to slowly stroke himself, teasing himself and wanting to savor the view that he had.

From slowly running his hand up and down his shaft, those strokes became fast as his mind was filled with images and scenarios of him taking Y/N in various ways.

“Fuck Bucky, harder,” she moaned as she felt Bucky’s grips on her hips tighten before he controlled her body to match his thrusts, moving her along as he slid in and out of her as a response to her plea. Wanting to feel more of her, one of his hands left her hips to grip her shoulder and pull her to him so her back was pressed against his sweaty chest; to keep her steady and against his chest, the hand on her shoulder detached from her shoulder and moved to hold on to her breast, pulling and tugging on the swollen nipple.

“That what you want, baby girl? Need me to fuck you hard?” He teased her as her whines increased at the assault he was doing to her. She just nodded her head rapidly, but that wasn’t enough for Bucky, he let go of her breast and slapped both of them hard enough to elicit a reaction out of her, “I wanna hear you say it! Say you like getting fucked hard like a slut!”

“I love it! I love how you’re fucking me like a slut, Bucky!” she moaned out loud and found herself hooking her hand to his hand that wasn’t on her hip. The man simply smirked at how much of a wreck she was and he loved it. She guided his hand to her neck and his smirk became even more sinister and he let her know his appreciation, “Yeah you’re just a filthy girl aren’t you,” his grip on her neck tightened and he felt her tighten and got the hint that she was close, “And since I love my filthy girl, why don’t you come for me?”

Bucky knew he was nearing his climax, but he decided that the visual wasn’t enough for him; he needed the actual thing. Completely undressing himself, he walked towards where she was laying and turned her gently so she now laid on her back. “Goddamn you’re beautiful, baby,” he whispered as he kneeled on the bed and his knees were on the sides of her body. He stretched her left leg to the outside of his right knee, her inner thigh grazing his knee. While he lifted her right leg and let it rest on his shoulder.

Rubbing his right hand on her clit, he felt how wet she already was and slid a finger in, moving his finger around, he took note of how she was completely drenched. “I guess you pleasured yourself before sleeping huh?” Pulling his finger out and bringing it to his lips, his suspicion was confirmed as he tasted her sweet juices.

“This’ll be easier then,” he sighed as he pushed his cock in and slid in one swift motion thanks to her juices. He stared off with slow and long thrusts, checking to see if she’ll wake up — thankfully she didn’t. He then took this as his queue to give her harder thrusts, pulling out until his tip lightly brushes the opening of her tight canal and pushing all the way in with force until his balls were pressed tightly against her ass.

“Can’t wait for you to enjoy this when you’re awake doll,” Bucky rasped out in between his thrusts, which were now slowly becoming faster. The speed of his hips were causing the bed to shake and he feared that if it weren’t for his actions, then maybe the sound of the bed hitting the wall would cause her to regain consciousness. But she was so deep in her slumber that she didn’t.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum inside of you. Will mix my juices with yours,” Bucky moaned lowly. And he felt his climax nearing that his judgement was clouded and his sole focus was to let himself go. So he moved around in the bed until his feet hit the floor and spread her both legs wide open to the sides, all without pulling himself out.

Placing his hands on both her inner thighs, he pressed them down and didn’t hold back as he slammed his cock in and out of her pussy. His pelvis met her thighs with each thrust, his hands tightly holding on to her thighs which somehow made her clench down on him even more, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of her breasts bouncing along with the power of his hips, and the tip of the iceberg was when she began letting out small and quiet whimpers.

“Shit, you’re squeezing me so well baby,” he breathed out as he slammed himself inside her and stayed planted in here as he felt himself release his load. Head thrown back and panting loudly, she whimpered a little and was clenching her pussy which milked even more of Bucky’s seed. She must be dreaming of someone fucking her, God I hope it’s me she’s thinking about, Bucky thought as he pulled his cock out until only the tip was inside her; he stroked the part of his cock that wasn’t inside her, making sure that every last drop of his seed didn’t drip into the bed and was instead all inside her.

After taking a few minutes to recover, he pulled out completely and positioned her in the bed prior to how she was before he came in. He grabbed his discarded boxers and put them on him. Before walking out of the room he went back to the bed, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Can’t wait to swim with you baby girl.”

Arising from her sleep, Y/N stretched her body and rubbed the sleepiness off her eyes. She couldn’t help but grin at the memories of how she pleasured herself before she drifted off to dreamland and when she did, her subconscious was somehow able to project a scenario wherein she was getting railed by Bucky. The mention of his name in her mind had her blushing; she brought her fingers down to her pussy to inspect the aftermath of her masturbation and was surprised to see how wet she was and how much she orgasmed.

Before making her way down to greet her host, she first dressed up in her bikini, however she didn’t want to walk down right away only with the flimsy pair, so she wore a tank top and a pair of shorts on top of the swimwear. Making her way down the stairs, she saw Bucky relaxing on the couch and was on his phone, “Good morning, Bucky. Did you sleep well?”

She plopped herself down at the armchair opposite where Bucky was sitting, and the metal-armed man fumbled to pocket his phone and turn his attention to the girl who warmly greeted him. “I slept peacefully, doll. Where are you headed all dressed up like that?”

“I was hoping we could have brunch by the lake? And then swim afterwards?” She shyly suggested and it was adorable for the veteran to see her all shy and flustered, he didn’t have it in him to reject her idea. “That’s a great idea, doll! I’ve already prepared some food that I can just pack up in tupperwares,” just as he was about to head to the kitchen to do so she stood quickly and told him, “I can do it! My bag’s all ready and I’m dressed up so I can do all those while you get ready.”

He smiled and thanked her for volunteering, he let her know where the tupperwares and picnic baskets were before heading up to change. As he was changing in his room into a navy tank top along with a pair of shorts, he decided that today was the day. He was gonna make his move and let him know that he wants her here with him.

The drive to the lake had been peaceful; Bucky offered to drive and she accepted so she was left to admire the scenery as they both traveled to their destination. Once Y/N caught a glimpse of the lake, she had already been fumbling to unbuckle her seatbelt and before Bucky had fully parked the car, the front passenger door was already being opened and the woman beside him carried her bag as she excitedly ran towards the dock.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, doll! Be careful!” He called out to her as he switched off the engine and moved to grab the picnic basket at the backseat. Catching up to where she was standing near the edge of the dock, she turned to him and smiled, “I’m sorry, I just get really excited when I see the water. Plus, it’s been forever since I got to swim,” her exaggeration in the apology had him chuckling and he simply put the basket down and took out the blanket he had and laid it out.

Kneeling down, Bucky then rummaged through the items on the basket, “What do you wanna eat, doll? Want to have some muffins? I also have some bacon if you want,” he looked up to see that his lovely doll was stripping off her top and bottoms, with her back facing him. She folded her clothes and placed it on top of her bag, she turned to him and smiled, “I don’t wanna eat, I want to swim first.”

The super soldier barely got to process the words that left her mouth as he was admiring the swimsuit she was wearing, “That’s a pretty bikini you have there, doll,” he mindlessly blurted out. She blushed at the praise and he noticed as well how she rubbed her luscious thighs and it got him thinking that maybe she had a praise kink. “It’s one of the eight swimsuits they sent me,” was all she said before she waived and ran towards the end of the dock and jumped as she splashed down on the lake.

Fuck, one of eight swimsuits? She’s trying to kill me. He thought to himself as he felt his cock start to harden at the thought of seeing her in her swimwear and possibly railing her as she wears it. But first, he thought he had to eat up before making those plans and desires come true.

Y/N was having fun just swimming around. The lake had clear and clean water. She was able to see her feet and the sandy floor through the water. The lack of seaweeds and other aquatic plants on the lake was something she was thankful for since she loathed swimming around and feeling something grazing her leg.

Quite some time had already passed since Y/N began swimming and Bucky was just sitting there as he ate and was staring at her every movement. “Come join me, Bucky! The water’s not too cold, it’s perfect!” he smiled and put the muffin he was munching on down and moved to take his shirt off.

Her mouth hung agape and a little bit of drool came out of her mouth as she gazed on the man’s body. He was toned and defined; her fingers ached to run it through his wide chest and shoulders and she would have also loved to feel his bulging arms wrapped around her. She was snapped out of her thoughts as she heard a big splash and felt the water moving against her.

“Hi there, beautiful,” having this Adonis of a man face her and greet her sweetly had her giggling. “Good for you to join me; was starting to think you didn’t know how to swim that’s why you didn’t wanna join me,” her accusation had him gasping and feigning hurt. “You really think that lowly of me, doll?”

Y/N swam away from Bucky, creating some distance between them; this had the man tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Don’t tell me you’re easily hurt by that! I wonder what happens if I challenge you to a splash fight?” Just as she said that she began to flick her wrists to splash some water in Bucky’s direction.

They both were giggling as they both began to soak each other with water. After a while they both stopped and Y/N let her arms float on the water as she stared at the man adoringly; while he thought that it was finally time to speed things up. Swimming towards her, he erased the distance between them and held both her hands against his chest. He felt her breath quicken and she was staring at him with wide and inquisitive eyes.

Lifting both her wrists, he placed a long and sensual kiss on the insides of her wrists. A sharp intake of breath was heard from her lips and he rested her forearms on his shoulders as his flesh hand pulled her closer to him by the hips while his metal hand gently caressed her cheek, “Had your fun already, baby girl?”

With a flushed face she nodded and pursed her lips together, “Don’t do that princess, that’s my job,” Bucky reprimanded her as he brushed his metal thumb in her lips but quickly moved the hand towards the nape of her neck and pulled her close for their lips to collide. He swallowed her whimper of shock and took the opportunity to let his tongue inside her mouth.

Slanting his head, he deepened the kiss as his flesh hand moved to wrap her thigh around his hips in order to get their bodies as close as possible and to feel every inch of her. Bucky smirked as he felt her tongue dancing along with the direction of his tongue and when he felt her hands cup his cheeks he couldn’t hold himself back from placing both his hands to grab her bikini-covered bum and grind her core to his.

“Oh God,” she whimpered against his lips, as if she was starting to pull away; but Bucky didn’t want her to do so, so he chased her lips with his and planted it firmly against her, leaving her no room but to comply with what he wanted.

Her hands traveled down from his cheeks to his neck and down to his shoulders, where she anchored herself to separate her tongue from roaming around his mouth. Her chest was heaving up and down as she stared down at Bucky who was loving this out of breath and dazed state she was in, “What was that?”

Her question made him chuckle darkly before teasing her, “That was just a preview of what’s to come, baby,” this just confused her even more and she tilted her head but he simply removed his hands from her body and she whined at the loss of contact — which Bucky thought as completely adorable — but he kissed her forehead, “Enjoy your swim doll, a few more minutes then we go home, got it?” She nodded and watched as he swam his way to the docks and busied himself with drying himself up and packing up their picnic.

She shrugged off the million thoughts racing through her head and decided that swimming would probably help her clear her head.

Something in the air shifted as they both were driving home after spending nearly two hours by the lake. While keeping his eyes on the road, Bucky’s metal hand was on the steering wheel while his flesh hand was gripping and caressing Y/N’s thighs. He loved how she didn’t flinch when he did so and instead she enveloped his hand with both her thighs.

Upon arriving back at the home, Bucky opened the car door for her and she smiled and thanked him. As he went to retrieve the picnic basket, his doll went ahead to get inside the house and it was finally time for him to make his move.

Placing the basket down on the floor without a care, he grabbed her hand as she was headed for the stairs; her bag falling off her shoulders as a result. “Bucky,” she was cut off as Bucky planted his lips against her and pulled her by the hips to feel her skin against his. She moaned out loud and he smirked as he once again let his tongue inside her and began to roam her insides and massaged her tongue with his.

“I fucking need you, baby,” he rasped out without fully disconnecting his lips from hers, “You gonna let me have you?” she whimpered and simply nodded. This made Bucky happy, and to show his appreciation, he kissed her neck and her collarbones as his hands quickly ripped the material of her shirt against her. A loud gasp was let out, and it informed the man who was vigorously kissing her that she was turned on with what he did.

Placing his hands behind her hips, he guided her walk with him to the couch with his lips still attached to her hot skin. They both worked to remove her of her shorts before Bucky was pushing her to sit down on the couch. “Don’t take your bra off, remove those panties, I wanna see your ass,” he commanded as his eyes roamed around her body as he took his shirt and shorts off, revealing that he didn’t have any underwear on.

“Press your cheek against the sofa and put your ass up in the air for me, princess,” he groaned upon seeing her full ass on display. He smacked both her cheeks at the same time and chuckled as she shook her ass in response. One hand had a firm grip on her hip while the other stroked his cock and teased the tip on her clit. “You ready, baby? Want to feel my cock inside you?”

She nodded, “Yes please, Bucky, I need to feel you push your cock inside me,” by the end of her whining he had already slid inside her and pushed it all the way until she felt his balls slap against her ass. She let out a dragged moan as he let out profanities and praises about how she enveloped him well.

Pulling his hips back, he thrust right back in which made her moan once again. His other hand was now teasing her clit by rubbing it and he felt her coat his cock with more of her juices. “God, you feel like heaven, princess. Wrapping your tight pussy around me so good,” he threw his head back but his hips were doing the opposite. His pelvis was slamming deep and fast against her that her ass was feeling the friction of his trimmed pubic hair.

“It’s so good, Bucky. Love how you’re pounding me,” the praise and small amount of dirty talk was enough for Bucky to groan and drive his hips even deeper and stronger, if that was even possible. “Fuck you’re so dirty, doll. My dirty doll, right?” he asked as he wrapped a handful of her hair against him and pulled her against him; her back against his chest and he could her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

Untying her bra, he tossed it on the floor and both his hands began to twist, pinch, pull, and flick on her nipples. Palming her breasts, he continued to spur him on with his words, “Who knew how much of a filthy princess you were huh? That you were really a slut wanting to get fucked?” she whined out loud and this prompted Bucky to sit down on the couch and drag her with him; ending up in a position that would allow her to ride him. “Ride me, bitch. Ride me ‘til we both cum,” he was surprised with how she eagerly responded to his command.

She leaned back and planted her hands on his abs and began to lift her body up and down, moving her pussy in and out of his cock. With one hand resting at the back of his head, the other was slapping her ass that was bouncing up and down on him. “Only a slut like yourself knows how to ride a cock this good, baby,” his statement ended with a groan as she stopped her bouncing and was instead sitting with his cock fully inside her, and she began to move in slow and hard circles. As if she was grinding on his dick.

“God, I’m so close, you got me near my edge, slut,” Bucky groaned and slapped both her ass cheeks at the same time, “Face me, baby. Turn around and face me, without leaving my cock.” He grinned as she halted her movements and twisted her body so she was greeted with the sight of Bucky’s chest sweaty and a smirk planted on his lips.

He sat up from his lying position and sat up so their chest were pressed firmly against each other, “Are you close, baby?” She threw her head back and nodded as Bucky began to move his hips so he could match the way she was sliding up and down his cock. Slapping her cheek, not too hard but enough to get her to look at him, he growled, “Tell me, princess. Tell me you’re close and that you wanna cum.”

Her mouth opened but a moan came out of her, he gave her a particularly harsh thrust and she finally gave in, “I wanna cum, Bucky, I need to. Please let me cum on your cock.” He smirked, satisfied with her answer and took control of the tempo of the way she was riding him. Holding on hard enough on her hips, enough to leave marks, he began to lift her up and down on him; he was lifting her up so fast that she barely had time to breathe and the way he slammed her was so hard he could hear their skin slapping against each other.

“You’re squeezing my cock so good, baby” Bucky groaned and he felt how close she was but needed added stimulation to let herself go. He lowered his mouth to cover her nipple with his lips; the sensation of licking and sucking hard on her nipple coupled with the cruel hip thrusts he was giving into her was enough for Y/N to grip on his shoulders and plant her lips on the top of his head, “Bucky, fuck,” was all she was able to let out as a warning for the orgasm that washed over her.

After feeling her juices drip down, there was something primal in him that made him more determined than ever to blow his load; so he removed his mouth from her nipple and laid her down on her back and moved to lift her legs, phishing them to her chest. “You gonna take my cum, baby? Gonna let me put it all in you?” He was thrusting violently, there was no rhythm but just him ruthlessly sliding his cock in and out of her tight canal, his mind was filled with images of her staying here with him, building a life together.

“Bucky, I’m so sensitive,” she squealed, and the man just smirked and to her surprise she just slammed his hips faster. He looks beautiful like this, she thought, but there was a part of her that thought she might explode if he continued his brutal assault on her body; and she was starting to get sleepy. Bucky slammed his cock all the way in until his balls were against her ass and stayed there, “Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he moaned as he emptied his balls and shoved all his cream inside her.

He looked down on his precious angel and smiled at the sight of her with her eyes closed, running a finger to her face, just admiring her post-sex glow and the way she was all sweaty. He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, “You did so well for me, baby.”

Without removing his cock from her, he moved to carry her, with ease he then brought both of them upstairs and into his room. Upon entering, he saw that Alpine was still lazily sleeping on the bed he got her and smiled, “I got you a mommy already, Al,” he whispered and felt himself harden again at the nickname he’d given the lovely girl in his arms.

Laying the both down, he wrapped both his arms around the sleeping beauty beside him and kissed her lips once more, “Welcome home, doll.”

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taleasnewastime · 4 years

Text

The village

Summary: When Min Yoongi turns up in your village you battle with whether you should tell him you know who he is. But when you start to hang out with him, and you can start calling him your friend, things get even more complicated.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 11.1k

Authors Note: Buckle in, that is not a typo this indeed 11,100 words! It has taken me a while to write but I really enjoyed it, so I hope you enjoy reading it too. This isn’t going to be the new normal, but I do have some ideas for some other longer stories. Let me know if you like the length or whether you think I should just stick to shorter fics, would love to hear your thoughts. Anyway, this is a fluffly story about Yoongi having a vacation in a small village.

Cup on tea in hand you look out through the window. Winter was fully setting in and rain fell gently against the window causing drops to slowly run downwards. With the café you were currently in being at the top of the hill your window seat provided a good view of the village. With the rain constantly pouring down not many people were walking through the village, so instead of your normal people watching you look at the rain drops fall down the window.

Taking another sip of your drink, you look down and notice that you can nearly see the bottom of the mug. Glancing out the window again you consider ordering another drink just to avoid going outside for another few minutes. These thoughts are long forgotten when you remember that you promised you would meet Molly to help her lock up the shop. She had asked you yesterday when she found out that Matt, her only store assistant, couldn’t help her.

You look across the café to see the time, you still had 10 minutes until you had to be at the shop. Not enough time to order another drink. Instead you nurse your current drink, eyes going back to the beads of water on the glass.

You down the last dregs of your drink, setting the mug back on the table, you start to shrug your coat on. Heading for the door, you pick up your still sodden umbrella, shaking it slightly out of habit.

“See you soon, Fiona,” you call across the café to the woman sat behind the counter, signifying your departure.

“Lovely to see you dear, come back soon,” the lady shouts back at you, giving a gentle wave.

With that you open up the door, taking a small step out before immediately opening your umbrella. Hood up, umbrella as close to your head as possible, you shuffle down the road towards Mollys shop.

The rain was almost horizontally lashing at you, so to avoid the majority of the drops getting on you, you have to place the umbrella almost as a shield. Though this works in stopping you basically having an outdoor shower, it does prohibit your vision. There should, therefore, have been no surprise when you collide with a solid mass. What you don’t expect is for that solid mass to start talking.

“You should watch where you’re walking,” a gruff voice sounds out barely audible over the rain.

Raising your umbrella so that it is above your head and you can finally see, you take in the person in front of you. Having lived in the village for almost all of your life, and with the village being as small as it is, you know everyone there. No one seemed to leave and hardly anyone ever seemed to enter. The person currently standing in front of you however is someone you have never seen in your life. He wears a hat tightly pulled over his head, a few dark strands of hair poking out, a big coat that swallows up his body, and big black boots on his feet. His face is round, and his cheeks puff out slightly from under his hat.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise, your voice so soft you worry that it won’t be heard over the wind and rain. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” the man scoffs.

Rain continuing to lash down on you, and the coldness of the air starting to hit you, you are not up for listening to some stranger's moodiness. Instead you give another quick, blunt apology and start walking off again in the direction you were heading.

When you finally reach the shop, you stomp on arrival. Attempting to get some water off yourself and umbrella was pointless, but the stomping was at least getting rid of some of the annoyance that had risen up within you from the rude man on the street.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” comes a call from the back of the shop.

“It’s just me Mol,” you shout back, hearing a few crashes in return.

The crashes die down when you hear some footsteps which turns into the appearance of Molly. “What has you stomping around? Don’t think I’ve ever heard you that loud in my life.”

You roll your eyes at her, “I’m not being that loud, just trying to get some water off me,” you say. Dumping your umbrella in a pile at the door you peel your hood back before taking your coat off entirely. Feeling more human now you are somewhat dry and not bundled in a mass of clothes you head over to the till where Molly is stood.

“Thanks for volunteering to help me,” Molly says.

“I don’t know if I would use the word volunteer, more like black mailed?” Molly rolls her eyes at you. “And anyway, you know I’m always free to help.”

“You may not want to offer that service, I’d have you here every night if I could,” she says. “Right, down to business, all I need you to do is stack that last box ready for tomorrow. I’ll start counting up the money and then we can both do a final sweep of the floors.”

“Perfect,” you reply, already heading to the box in question.

You plonk yourself down on the floor by the box and slowly unload its contents, occasionally reading the labels of the miscellaneous tins. The job was a tad mind numbing even if it was just the single box you needed to unload, though you did find it somewhat therapeutic, allowing your mind to tune out to the world. A hum starts to leave your mouth without much realisation.

“Is that ABBA?”

You almost drop the tin that was in your hand, not realising anyone but Molly was in the shop. The deep voice that had just sounded out was definitely not Molly. Slowly turning your head and from your seat on the floor, you notice the big black boots first. That alone was enough for you to guess who was stood in front of you, but you continue to move your eyes up his stature. As if you had any doubt your guess was confirmed when you met the eyes of the rude man you had previously met in the street.

“Yeah,” you answer his question, eyes going back to the tin in your hand as you feel annoyance start to rise up within you again. “Mamma Mia,” you say the name of the song as you place yet another tin on the shelf.

“I’m more of a Dancing Queen man myself,” your eyes shoot up to him, his eyes now on the shelf in front of him, a small smile threatening to escape his lips.

You roll your eyes at the man, focus once again returning to the stacking of the shelf. “If you really want to get into superior ABBA tracks then we all know it’s Voulez-Vous,” you say deadpan, not sure if he was mocking you with his earlier comment.

He simply hums in agreement letting out a simple “good choice,” as he over analyses the writing on a packet of rice.

Your face heats up slightly, still unsure if he was mocking you or simply complementing your taste in music. A few more moments pass in silence, just the light tapping of tins going onto the shelf. The man however doesn’t leave his spot, towering over you.

“So, do you work here?” He finally speaks out. He means it to come out casual, but instead it comes out awkward and stilted, and you can’t help the small smile that comes to your face.

“No. Just helping a friend,” you say. “I do it from time to time when she’s desperate.”

“So, you live here?” He asks. “I mean, you live in the village?”

You finally look back up at him to find his eyes already on you. “Yeah, live towards the bottom of the hill. Are you passing through?”

“I guess you could say I’m on a holiday of sorts.”

“You’re staying here?” Your eyes almost bulge out of your head in shock.

“Is there a problem with that?” He gives a slight chuckle at your reaction, though it does unnerve him slightly, was there some sort of problem with this village he’d stumbled upon?

“No, no,” you are quick to reassure him. “It’s just that people never really come to this village.”

“Should I be worried? Maybe take my holiday somewhere else?”

“Depends,” you say. “If your idea of a good time is talking to old people all day, only being able to visit a small café and convivence store, and taking long meaningful walks around some woods, then I would say this is the perfect place for you.”

“Well when you put it like that,” he smiles.

Before your conversation can go any further Mollys head pops out from the end of the isle, “5 minutes until the store closes,” she announces, disappearing back to where she came from just as quickly.

Having jumped slightly at the interruption your focus goes back on your work, realising you still have half the box to unpack and not much time left to do it. Though you were helping Molly out and she was your best friend, she did ever so slightly scare you and you did not want to be on the receiving end if she finds out you’ve been talking rather than doing your ‘job’.

The man next to you has also somewhat livened at the announcement. Hands grabbing a few items off the shelf, bundling them into his arms as he makes his way to the till.

Just before he fully rounds the corner he stops and turns to look at you. “I’m Yoongi by the way, should maybe have said that earlier,” you look to see a light blush covering his cheeks.

He remains stood there as you stare at him, smile on your face, a tin in hand half way to the shelf. “Y/N,” you reply. He gives a curt nod before walking off, disappearing behind the shelf completely.

“Do you know who that was?” The words shoot at you like bullets, an almost franticness to them. As you head towards Molly with your now empty box you can see that the words are not the only thing frantic about her in that moment, her whole body almost shaking. You stop dead in your tracks taking her in.

“Yoongi?” You mind whirling with thoughts about what could have gotten her in that state, was he some ex-lover? Maybe even just an old friend? Someone she’d seen on the street before, maybe he had treated her the same way he had treated you when outside. Maybe she wasn’t even talking about Yoongi, maybe someone else had come into the shop without you seeing. All these thoughts and not one of them was what actually came out of Mollys mouth.

“Yes Yoongi, or SUGA,” your face still blank she continues. “From BTS?” She's almost desperate at this point.

“BTS, that’s a boyband, right?”

“Jesus Y/N. Yes, BTS is a boyband, it’s the biggest boyband in the world,” if there wasn’t a table between the two of you, Molly would have tried to shake some sense into you.

“Oh right, well good for him I guess,” you try to feign being cool, and though you still weren’t entirely sure who Yoongi really was, you couldn’t pretend to not know who BTS were. Heat started to rise to your face as you think about how you spoke to some famous pop star and didn’t even realise. How people would have killed to be in your earlier position and there you were getting slightly annoyed that he may have been mocking you about humming an ABBA tune.

Taking the empty box, you head towards the recycling, Molly hot on your tails.

“Are you not even the slightest bit curious about why Min Yoongi was in my shop?” Molly almost bounces off the walls as she follows you.

“He said he was taking a holiday,” you shrug.

“A holiday? Here?” Molly says it as if it’s the least appealing thing she has ever heard.

“Maybe he likes talking to old people,” you reference one of the selling points you’d told Yoongi earlier.

“Well, he’s probably long gone by now,” Molly finally settles down, bouncing turning more into a small bob. “Maybe I should have asked for a picture when I had the chance.”

“I say let’s just sweep the floors and head home,” you take one of the brooms that was resting against the wall and shove it in her arms.

“Let a girl have some fun,” she pouts at you.

You didn’t give Yoongi much more thought that night, nor the following morning. Like Molly had said, he was probably long gone now. Instead you go about your daily life, wake up, make a tea, and then head to your mini studio. You’d wanted to be an artist for as long as you could remember, and you were lucky that you earned enough money, from commissions and putting some work in galleries, that it supported you enough to live. Though you didn’t live an exuberant life, you were happy enough in your cosy two-bedroom house. Having converted the second bedroom into your studio also meant that you could cut costs on having to rent a separate space.

Flowers were your thing. Though not drawn realistically in all your works, you always drew inspiration from them. Whether that be their colours, their shape or simply their place within a space. Flowers were definitely your thing, and that was no more evident than in your studio. Flower pressings littered the walls, pictures of flowers you had taken on walks joining them, there were even some fake flowers in some pots on shelves and in corners. That was all before you had taken in your actual works. Your studio was basically just one big headache of colour, and you loved every inch of it.

The rain from yesterday was still lashing down outside, and you sit on a stall by the window with your mug for a second, watching the beads run down the window just as you had done in the café. Before you get too carried away you kick yourself into action and start to do some actual work.

You could normally work a full day, especially when you had a few commissions or pieces that were needed for galleries. Today was one of those days, two commission pieces underway you didn’t find it hard to get stuck in and paint the day away.

Trying to stick to a traditional 8 hour working day was hard when you were your own boss. You found you would get to the end of your day and still have stuff to do and as it was your business, you would want to stay and get everything done. This had resulted in late nights and early mornings in the past, essentially eliminating any chance of a social life, which was pretty non-existent anyway. However, it is still what drove you to start being stricter with more formatted days.

So, as it neared stopping time, and although you still had things to do, you diligently put your paints and brushes away, clearing up for the day. You could always fit in an extra hour in the evening if you felt like it. Otherwise everything would still be where you’d left it tomorrow. You had also found that coming back to a painting with fresh eyes always helped. The secret to painting was knowing when to stop.

Looking out the window confirmed that the rain was still falling. With Molly still having a few more hours to work at the shop, and wanting to get out of the house you decided the only option was to go back to the café. A coffee right now sounded ideal anyway.

So, you head up the hill. Coat back on, umbrella over your head, you try to avoid as much rain as you could. When you finally make it, you dump your umbrella in a wet heap by the door. Ordering a coffee, you give a smile and hello to the other customers as you head over to your normal seat by the window.

Taking in the world outside, your mind tunes into some of the other conversations around you. Much like the small village, the coffee shop was never that busy and always full of old people. Your ears flick between the only two conversations going on, one about the troubles their grandchildren were having with potty training, the other about how they had seen another villager walking around with a green hat on, apparently it was scandalous.

You try to disguise the giggle that rises within you by taking a sip of your drink. However, what definitely kills the giggle is the words spoken by a deep voice.

“Thought I recognised the umbrella by the door.”

You almost spill your drink as you turn from the window to the man stood beside you. Heat immediately rises to your face, heart rate increases tenfold, as you look at Yoongi. He simply stands looking at you with a small closed mouth smile on his face, mug of coffee in his hands.

“Oh, hi,” are the only words you managed to splutter out at him. He remains stood looking at you, and you’re not sure what comes over you when you offer him to sit with you. He accepts and you watch as he places his mug down and takes the seat opposite you. Hair now out of the hat he was wearing yesterday, you take in his dark, almost black, locks that fall just long enough that they touch his eyes, but don’t cover them. His skin is clear and light, puffing out slightly into squishable cheeks that are lightly pink from the storm blowing outside. His lips are plump, and the perfect shade of pink, a shade that you wish you could replicate in your studio. Then you meet his eyes. A deep dark coffee colour, the colour almost blending into his pupil.

“You stayed,” you dumbly state.

“Well you did such a good job of selling the place, I didn’t think I could leave,” he smiles.

Your heart rate still high, you do everything to avoid his eye contact. Your eyes look around the room and notice that all other eyes in the cafe are on the two of you, surely curious about the man sat opposite you that they had never seen before. The village rumour mill must already be whirling. Your eyes finally land on your coffee, deciding that’s the safest place to look.

Though you would like to think that the only reason you were being so awkward was because you now knew he was famous, in reality you would be like this around any good-looking guy. What with the small village filled with old people, hot guys were a very infrequent occurrence. However, the fact you now knew he was a member of BTS definitely made the situation worse.

“What have you done today then?” You manage to ask.

“Not much, just settled into the house I’m staying in. Unpacked and went to get some more food,” he says. “What about you?”

Your eyes dare to look up at him and find that maybe he isn’t as scary as you initially thought, though you are still unable to hold eye contact for more than a second. “Just worked,” you answer.

“And what do you work as?”

“I’m an artist. I paint,” you add to clarify your point.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, a reaction that you were used to by now. “What do you paint?”

“Flowers,” you say, a small smile coming to your lips as you start to think about your art and how much you love it. “Of sorts. They’re all abstract so you wouldn’t necessarily think they are flowers. But it’s where I draw inspiration.”

He smiles at you, watching as you seem to almost glow when you talk about your work. You cringe under his stare, looking out the window you gather the courage to ask, “what do you do for work?” curious to see what his answer would be.

“I make music,” he says simply.

You raise your eyebrows, mocking surprise. “Anything I would know?” Again, curious as to whether he would admit who he was.

“If ABBA is your idea of good music then I doubt you would have heard any of my songs,” his lips pull back showing off a gummy smile.

You roll your eyes and pout your lips slightly. “Must not be that good then,” you mock annoyance and you hear a chuckle leave his lips.

“I’m glad I managed to bump into you again actually,” he says and you raise your eyebrows in genuine shock this time.

“In this village I think it would harder to avoid someone then bump into them,” you say.

“Noted,” he smiles. “Anyway, I wanted to ask about those woodland walks you mentioned yesterday.”

“Oh right,” you say, feeling a bit disappointed though you are unsure why. “They are literally at the bottom of this hill. Just walk down the road and you can’t miss it. Theres a map at the start so you shouldn’t get lost.”

“Great. Thank you,” he says.

“You going to go in the rain?” You nod your head to the window to emphasise your point.

His eyes turn to the bleak day outside. “Maybe I’ll wait to see if it’s drier tomorrow,” his face turns back to you. “Fancy joining?”

Your heart almost stops beating at the offer and you manage to stutter out a “urm.”

He gives you a small smirk, “you don’t have to if you’re busy.”

“I mean, I guess it would be nice to go on a walk. I could go around midday?”

“Thank god, because I definitely would have got lost,” you laugh at his comment, his words making you feel more at ease.

He takes a final sip of his coffee, finishing it off, and then slowly pushes his chair back from the table. Standing up he shrugs his coat on and then puts his hand in his pocket, pulling out his phone. A few clicks on it and then he is holding it out to you. Sensing your confusion he simply says, “for your phone number,” and then quickly adds, “if that’s OK?”

You reach out taking the phone from him, smiling at the blush that has taken over his cheeks. “Very smooth Yoongi,” you say, causing the shade of his blush to deepen.

Handing him back the phone he does a few more taps, causing your phone to ping. “Now you can text me your address too,” he doesn’t let you reply to that, but you can see a wide gummy smile take over his face. Grabbing his bag as he heads for the door. “See you at midday tomorrow.”

“YOU ARE GOING ON A DATE WITH MIN YOONGI?” Molly screams in your face after you tell her about your previous café encounter.

You groan, placing your head in your hands. You had weighed whether it was worth telling Molly or not, but ultimately had decided that she would find out eventually and if it didn’t come from you she may just kill you. However, as you sit in your living room, Molly screaming in your face, you almost regret telling her anything.

“It’s not a date,” you reply.

“You are going on a walk alone with Yoongi, he has your phone number, hell he even has your address. Mate, you are going on a date.”

“He just doesn’t want to get lost and knows I’m local,” you try to reason.

“Literally nothing you say is going to change my mind.”

“Ok, but nothing you say is going to change mine,” you say just as stubbornly as Molly had. “Can we just not make a big deal of this, I’m am just going on a walk with someone that happens to be a man, no big issue.”

“Alright, alright,” Molly subsides. She knows your track record with men and, even if it wasn’t a date, going for a walk with a man was a massive step for you. So, if it made you feel better about the situation, she would stop teasing you. “But you still have to tell me every detail about it.”

“I promise,” you sigh, already knowing she would want a full blow by blow.

You almost pour liquid caffeine down your throat the next morning. Having had broken sleep due to the anxiety caused by a certain man, you needed anything you could get to help you stay awake. Opting instead for a strong coffee you head up to your studio to at least attempt to get a few hours of work done.

As expected, work is the last thing your mind can focus on. Worrying instead about what you should wear later, and how long you should give yourself to get ready, you didn’t want to go covered in paint. Then your mind would try to reason, what does it matter what I wear it’s just a walk, you wouldn’t dress up for a walk with Molly. But you are going on a walk with Min Yoongi, this is completely different.

As all these thoughts whirl through your brain, the morning actually flies by. Though not much work was achieved, you manage to look semi presentable by midday. Though the rain had stopped it was still cold so you had opted for a hoody under a jacket, with some well fitted black jeans and boots. Not dressy at all, but compared to what you would normally wear it was positively Met Gala worthy.

Even though you are stood waiting, the doorbell still makes you jump when it rings out. You take small steps to the door in an attempt to not look too eager. Opening the door, you see Yoongi leaning against the front garden wall. All in black, he looked like a model pulled out of a magazine, and you have to try and push the thought away that says he basically is just that.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“Hey,” he stands up straighter, eyes taking you in. “Ready to go?”

“Yep, let me just grab my keys,” you duck into the house quickly grabbing your keys, before going back out and locking up your house.

“After you,” Yoongi points his arms to the front gate as a gesture for you to go first. “You are my guide after all.”

You smile as you walk past him. Taking a right towards the woods, Yoongi quickly falls into step with you.

“Did you manage to get any work done today?” Yoongi asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“A bit,” you lie, then follow it up with some truths. “I have two commissions on at the moment so just trying to get those finished before I start anything else.”

“Do you get many commissions?”

“Enough to get me by. Obviously, I would love more, who doesn’t aspire for me, but I am just happy that I make enough to support it as a career. I can’t really complain.”

“Being an artist is hard,” you hum in agreement at his words. “How do people hear about you? I guess I mean how did you become an artist?”

“Just the standard art college, university. Kind of got lucky I guess, a lot of people I studied with couldn’t support themselves enough to make it their job,” you downplay your achievements, always one to be modest.

“Shows you must be good,” he says, which you shrug at, unsure how to reply.

“This is the turning,” you are thankful for an excuse to try and change the topic. You stop by the map of the woods, a few different coloured lines make loops showing the different trails on offer, each varying in distance. “How far do you want to go?”

“The short one looks good,” you nod in approval starting to head in the right direction. “As you have work to do this afternoon, would hate to be the reason you get nothing done.

If only he knew, you think. “And what about you? Working on any music currently.”

“No,” he says it sharply and you worry that you said the wrong thing. Realising his mistake, he sighs. “I’m on holiday to try and clear my mind,” he explains.

“We all need some time away sometimes,” you say softly.

“And what better place to be,” he widens his arms at the trees around you and you laugh at him.

“Hawaii would be nice,” you joke.

“Not all it's cracked up to be,” he plays along.

“At least there’s sun there.”

“Again, not all it’s cracked up to be,” a big gummy smile takes over his face at these words.

“Are you some sort of vampire or something?”

“Maybe,” he laughs. “This seems like a very Edward and Bella location.”

“A Twilight fan?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Oh, come on. Who hasn’t seen Twilight? You’d have to be living in a cave to avoid it,” he rolls his eyes at you.

For the proceeding few minutes you discuss whether you are team Edward or Jacob. Have an intellectual conversation about whether the books or films are better. And talk about the following careers of several of the actors. It takes you almost by surprise to realise how easy it is conversation to have a conversation with Yoongi. Fully settled into it, you don’t even think about who he is or the fact that he is wildly attractive, you are just engrossed in the light and funny conversation.

In no time you are back outside your gate. Nervously you swing the gate lightly in your hand.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Yoongi says.

“It was a nice break from work, thanks for letting me tag along,” you smile.

“I hope you have a productive afternoon. Maybe I’ll bump into you around the village,” he says, turning with a slight wave and all too soon he’s gone.

“I need details,” Mollys voice sounds out through the phone that evening.

“It was nice,” you reply. “It was normal.”

“What did you talk about?”

“A bit about work, a lot about Twilight, I don’t know just a range of topics that naturally came up.”

“And are you meeting again?”

“No plans, he just left it saying that he’d maybe bump into me.”

“You should text him,” she says it rushed, as if it’s an amazing idea that she’ll forget if she doesn’t get it out.

“What?” Slight panic in your voice.

“You have his number right? You should ask him to do something with you.”

“Do what? There is nothing to do here,” you are trying to get out of it but your words are also true. You’d both already hit all the main attractions of the village together.

“Invite him round to yours,” you hear the excitement in her voice at her idea. “You can say you’ll cook him dinner.”

“I hardly know the guy, do you not think inviting him to my house is a bit forward?”

“Invite him out for a meal somewhere then. You could drive to el forno,” she suggests your favourite restaurant which is a few minutes drive from the village.

“I don’t know, sounds even more like a date than inviting him for food at mine,” you stress.

“Jesus Y/N. Just don’t overthink it. Ask him to go on another walk with you. Or even just text him to say that you enjoyed today. As long as you text him something.”

You hum, still not sure. “I guess a text to say I enjoyed our walk wouldn’t be so bad,” you reason.

“That’s it then. Do it now. And let me know what he replies,” and with a quick goodbye the phone line is dead, Molly gone.

Before you can overthink it you take Mollys advice and open up your messages with Yoongi. So far the only messages being his ‘hi’ and you giving him your address. A deep breath to settle your nerves and you type out a message.

Just wanted to say thanks again for today. It was nice to go round the woods with company for a change.

You read over the message several times, scrutinising every word. When finally your finger hovers over the send button, tapping down. Delivered. All you could do now is wait.

Trying to ignore your phone was easier said then done. You felt like some silly school girl checking your phone every minute to see if he had replied or even read your message. After a good 10 minutes of this you decide that you needed to leave your phone completely so head up for a bit of late night painting in an attempt to take your mind off it.

This works up until you hear the distant ding of your phone. You almost chuck your paint brush at the wall in an attempt to get to your phone quicker. Picking it up and opening the message you don’t care if you come across keen.

I enjoyed the company too. We should do it again sometime.

So he does want to see you again. The smile that spread across your face at that news was possibly the biggest smile you’d ever had. Typing out a reply you don’t hesitate in pressing send this time.

I’d love that.

As soon as it’s delivered it appears as being read showing he had your chat open. Dots appear showing he way typing.

Tomorrow too soon?

Again your typing is fast.

I can do lunch time again?

His reply just reads,

I’ll meet you outside yours again.

You manage to sleep better that night, and are actually productive in the morning. Compared to your first meeting you have your nerves under control. And when Yoongi arrives you find that you both fall into easy conversation. And when you finish your walk, Yoongi outside your house he suggests it becomes a regular occurrence and you happily agree to continue your lunch time walks.

It’s on one of these walks a few days later that he says, “I would love to see your art one day.” He says it so offhandedly that you aren’t expecting it and struggle to respond. “You always sound so passionate about it whenever it comes up in conversation. I guess I’m intrigued,” he smiles down at you.

“Yeah, sure, I guess you can come and see my art,” you say.

“Whenever you are ready,” he says, not wanting to push you into anything.

“I’ve actually nearly finished my commissioned pieces, so maybe when they’re done,” you suggest. “Then you can see something that’s fully finished.”

“Perfect,” he replies.

“So if you’re seeing my art, does this mean I get to hear some of your songs?”

He chuckles at your question. “I’ve actually been working on some new stuff recently.”

“I thought you said you don’t like to work on holiday?” You say shocked.

“I guess inspiration struck,” he shrugs.

“Well, I would love to hear it.”

“We will have to see,” he mumbles before changing the topic of conversation.

You are sat with your legs crossed on one of the counters in Mollys shop, chocolate bar in hand as you watch her stood by the till. You’d been discussing, amongst other things, your lunch time walks with Yoongi.

“I still think you should invite him round,” Molly says.

“I’m going to,” you say it with such confidence that Molly almost chokes on her own spit.

“You are?” She says in disbelief.

“I finished my commission pieces the other day and I said that he could come and see them. I just need to actually invite him.”

“Please don’t chicken out of it this time.”

As she finishes her sentence the door to the shop opens and in walks the man in question. Molly widens her eyes and shouts out a greeting, Yoongi gives a small wave before disappearing behind a row of shelves in search of something.

“Perfect timing,” Molly mumbles under her breath, jabbing her head to where Yoongi was stood for emphasis.

You shoot her daggers a warning to not embarrass you. And when Yoongi rounds the corner with some tins in his hands you both have to scramble to look normal.

“Hey Min,” you cringe as the words come out of your mouth, never having called him that before. “You’ve met Molly before right?” You try to recover.

He gives her a small smile, placing his tins down on the counter by the till. “I believe I bought some rice off you once,” he says extending his hand for her to shake. “Yoongi,” he introduces himself. “Or Min, it seems,” he glances at you giving a cheeky smile.

Your eyes dart to the floor, heat rising to your face.

“Well it’s nice to properly meet you,” Molly saves you, scanning through his items. “Are you enjoying your stay in the village?”

“It’s great. I’m used to a much faster pace of life so I am appreciating the laid back feeling here.”

“Laid back, slow, boring. It’s thanks to all the old people,” Molly jokes.

“You can’t hate it that much if you live here,” he hands over some cash for his items.

“I guess I’ve gotten used to it, don’t really know much else,” she explains handing him back his change.

“Well I think it’s great here,” he says and Molly hums in acknowledgment. Picking up his items he turns to the door saying, “see you guys around.”

His back to you Molly gives you a hard nudge, widening her eyes at you. Before you can think you shout out his name causing him to stop just before the door, turning to look at you. “I finished my paintings if you still want to come and see them?”

“Of course I do,” a smile breaks out on his face.

“Tomorrow evening work?” You ask, glancing down at Molly for reassurance before you say, “you can stay for some food too?”

The smile on his face remains as he accepts your invitation. He says “see you tomorrow,” before turning and leaving the shop.

“He is smitten,” Molly turns to you once he is gone.

“He just wants to see my art, I talk about it all the time, he’s curious.”

“And he could have just asked to see a picture. He didn’t need to come to your house to see it, he didn’t need to accept a dinner invitation to see it.”

“He’s being nice,” you sigh, unwilling to believe her words. “Can you just help me decide what to wear and cook?”

She rolls her eyes at how oblivious you were being, but agrees to help you out. Both of you spending your evening contemplating different outfits as well as brain storming meal Ideas.

Due to the fact he was coming to yours that evening you call off your lunch time walk, and instead text him a time to come to yours. You spend your day wisely, doing work but also preparing food and cleaning up you house a bit. By the time you hear the distinctive tone of your door bell, there is a nice smell of food in your house and the place looks clean.

You have to stifle a gasp that threatened to leave your lips when you opened the door. Stood in black jeans, a well fitted shirt with the top few buttons undone and a jacket, he looked effortlessly perfect. You couldn’t help but check him out as he walks past you into your house and takes his jacket off. Nearly catching you, you manage to peel your eyes away as he turns to look at you.

“I bought some wine,” he says holding up a hand with a bottle in it.

“Thanks,” you say as you take it off him and head to the kitchen.

“Something smells amazing,” he says leaning against the door frame.

“I hope you like lasagne?” You scold yourself for not checking he liked it sooner, but the worries are instantly gone when Yoongi confirms he does indeed love lasagne. You pour out two glasses of wine and head over to Yoongi handing him one.

“Do you want to see my art now, or after food?” You ask, taking a sip of your wine to try and calm your nerves.

Taking a sip of his wine Yoongi looks you in the eye before saying, “now?”

You give a bashful smile before nodding and heading off in the direction of your studio, hoping he got the clue to follow. Your heart rate is impossibly high as you head up the stairs, thoughts of him not liking your work going through your head. Your art was such a personal thing to you, something you pour your heart into, the thought of the man currently walking behind you not liking it would shatter your heart.

You pause at the door, hand on the handle. It’s almost as if you are pausing for a more dramatic effect but it’s purely due to you wondering whether this was such a good idea. Yoongi being ever patient just stands waiting, allowing you the time you need. You finally manage to kick yourself into action, deciding you were being stupid and that if he really wanted to he’d be able to google your art and find it in galleries.

Swinging open the door you step inside and make room for Yoongi to come in next to you. You avoid looking at his face not wanting to see his reaction in fear there will be disgust there. If you had looked though you would have seen his eyes full of wonder, lips popped open.

The silence is deafening to you and it only increases your worry as you still avoid looking at Yoongis reaction. “It’s not everyone's cup of tea,” you panic feeling the need to fill the silence. “The bright colours don’t agree with everyone I guess. And flowers are quite -”

Yoongi cuts you off by placing a hand on your shoulder and getting you to look at him. “It’s amazing,” he says. Looking at you he can see the worry and insecurities written all over your face so he continues. “Seriously, I think they are beautiful. I would actually like to see more of your work, see how all the pieces differ.”

“I have pictures,” you pull your phone out and open up the album with all your art work in. Handing your phone to Yoongi you let him scroll through. You watch as he takes in your work, humming out at times, fingers pinching the screen to zoom in on certain works.

“I’d actually love to buy one,” he says when he’s finished looking through them.

Never in a million years would you have expected him to say those words, and you are anything but professional when you stutter out a, “you don’t have to.” Thinking he was just trying to be kind.

“I’m being serious when I say I really like your work, Y/N,” he says. “I wouldn’t say I want to buy a piece if I didn’t genuinely want one.”

“I mean I guess I could give you some form of discount,” you mumble out.

“I don’t want any favours or discounts. I just want to be a normal customer, pay the normal price, go through the normal steps, and get an amazing painting at the end of it.”

“Ok,” you give him a bashful smile. “I guess I could fit you in,” you open up the calendar on your phone. “I normally sit down with someone who’s commissioned a piece so we can discuss what we both want to achieve, make sure that we are both happy with what’s going on. So when’s best for you?”

“I’m actually heading home for a few days this weekend, but I will be back next week,” he says.

Up until this point you’d not really thought about the fact that this was just a holiday for Yoongi, that he had a life outside this village. Obviously you knew that he did, but you hadn’t thought about the inevitable day when he would leave. So when those words leave his lips it suddenly hits you that he won’t be around forever, that one day your life will go back to how it used to be, Yoongi free.

“Tuesday morning?” You ask.

“I’ll be here,” he replies.

“Great,” you say as you tap the appointment into your phone. “Food?”

“Yes please, I am starving.”

Yoongi settles onto the small table in your kitchen as you expertly slice the lasagne, taking the two plates to the table you sit down opposite him. He pours some more wine into your near empty glass, and you both tuck in.

“What are you doing when you go back home?” You dare to ask.

“Just have some work stuff to go to,” he replies and you hum out in response. “Some of it is actually about those new songs I’ve been working on,” he says casually and your interest is piqued.

“Oh yeah?” You fully focus on him rather than your food.

“Yeah. I think some of them are actually quite good so I need to talk to my management about them.”

“That’s great,” you give a genuine smile. “And then you’re coming back?”

“Just for another week,” he looks you in the eye when he says this and you feel your heart crack slightly at the words but try to not let it show on your face.

“Two weeks in this village? You must really like it,” you try to joke.

“There are some pretty sights,” he shrugs still looking directly into your eyes. “Plus I still have some of the woodland walks left to do.”

“Don’t forget about the café. I’ve heard you are Fionas new favourite customer,” you reference the fact you’d heard people constantly talking about Yoongi around the village. You’d had so many questions yourself, was he your boyfriend? Why was he here? How long was he staying for? All of these you’d tried your best to shrug off.

“That’s just because I compliment her cakes every time I go,” he explains.

“Hum, I’m sure it’s more to do with the fact you’re a young attractive man.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

“Fiona thinks your attractive,” you say though your face still heats up. He hums, clearly not convinced. “Anyway, you should do more than just walk around the woods. I can send you some suggestions, there's a place not too far away with more exciting shops for example.”

“Yeah sure, that would be nice thanks,” he says.

The evening flows nicely, the easy flow of conversation you two had mastered causing it to become late quickly. By the time Yoongi is stood at your door, coat now on, you feel slightly tipsy with all the wine you had drunk.

“I guess I won’t see you until next Tuesday?” You say.

“Yeah, no lunch time wood walks together over the weekend.”

“Good luck with your work stuff, can’t wait to hear how it goes with your manager.”

“Thanks,” he says, not making any attempt to turn and leave.

Maybe it was a need to do something to fill the silence, or maybe it was the wine you had consumed that caused you to step forward and wrap your arms around Yoongi into a hug. There is a moment where he doesn’t return the gesture, remaining stiff, and you worry about what you have just done. But then his arms wrap around you, pulling you slightly closer to him. Nose against his chest you breathe in his scent slightly and wish you could somehow turn it into a candle to make your whole house smell of him. Before it becomes awkward you step away from him.

“I’ll see you next week,” you whisper, slowly closing the door on him. You hear a faint goodbye before he disappears from view.

You would never have guessed that you would miss Yoongi, but over the few days he is gone he occupies all your thoughts. It gets to the point on Saturday night where you decide to google him. Sat on your sofa, you are surprised it has taken you this long to google him.

The first thing that comes up when you press enter are news articles about BTS performing at the MAMAs in Japan. So that’s the work commitment he was talking about you think. A casual weekend in Japan, performing in front of thousands if not millions of people, no big deal. As you go through the news articles you feel the weight of who the man you had been hanging out with weigh down on you.

You flick instead to his Wikipedia page. You read briefly over the section about his early life and how he got signed to Big Hit Entertainment. Scrolling down the page you see the personal life section, seeing that it talks about him buying luxury apartments. Again you start to grow slightly anxious at the words, it all adding to you wondering why he has been bothering to do things with you, or even stay in this village.

Again you move on from the Wikipedia page, this time to Spotify where you type in BTS. Here you feel slightly more comfortable, feeling less prying. You spend your evening listening to some of their songs, after a while flicking into his solo projects.

By the time Tuesday rolls around you had listened to almost all of his discography and it almost made you feel like you were on an even footing with him, he had after all seen your art, it was only fair that you got to listen his.

When Yoongi knocked on your door you greeted him and took him to your studio where you had set up a small table and two chairs. You wanted to act as professional as possible. Though you were dying to ask him about his weekend, at this moment he was a paying customer and therefore questions about his weekend could wait.

The session went well, you showing him more in-depth photos of your work, giving some insight to them. You got him to pick the paintings he liked the most, asked what he liked most about them, asked him about the colours he would like included, the size of the canvas, all questions you would normally ask to gage the style of painting the person wanted.

What surprised you was that he came prepared too, half way through the meeting he whipped out his phone and pulled up some photos of flowers. He flicked through them and asked whether you would be able to somehow use them. Of course, you agreed, it was his painting after all, and you could use the images for inspiration on texture and colour.

Overall the meeting went smoothly and you told him that you would send him updates throughout the process. Again, just as you would any other customer.

Once over, and as you head down the stairs, you ask whether he wants to stay for a coffee, the perfect opportunity to ask how his weekend went. So, as you settled onto the couch with your mugs you did just that.

“How was the meeting with your manager?”

“Yeah, great. He liked the songs, which is always great.”

“So when do I get an exclusive listen?”

“You can listen when everyone else gets to hear them,” he smiles at you.

“Which will be...” you continue to dig.

“You will just have to be patient,” he laughs.

“And here was me thinking that painting for you would mean I get some sort of perk.”

“Is this how you treat all your paying customers?”

“Just the ones I think I can get something out of,” you joke.

“And you think my music is that something?”

“Well you haven’t let me listen to any of it yet, so I can’t be sure,” you act as best you can. “Anyway, how was the rest of your weekend? Your other work stuff go ok?”

“Yeah, nothing too exciting,” he says.

“Really?” You are surprised, not hiding it from your voice, remembering that you had read he had been at the MAMAs performing, surely that was exciting.

“You’re not very subtle, love” a smile graces his face as you look at him dumbfounded. “I know you know who I am.”

“What do you mean?” You play dumb.

“Always asking about my music?”

“I’m interested in what you do,” you cut in.

“You called me Min even though I’d never told you my last name,” he carries on.

“A lucky guess?” You croak out, feeling that you are losing some sort of battle.

“Your friend Molly also definitely knew who I was when I first went to her shop, so I suspected she’d tell you.”

“If it helps, I still don’t really know who you are.”

“You don’t know who SUGA is. I think we’ve hung out enough for you to have a good idea who I am,” he corrects you.

You start to grow awkward at his words, feeling almost trapped by him admitting he’s somewhat caught you out.

“I liked the fact you treated me as a normal person,” he senses your unease and tries to reassure you. “And I thought it was cute when you acted like you didn’t know who I was even though you clearly did.”

Heat rises to your face, nerves causing you to almost shake. Yoongi reaches out to take your hand in his, thumb gently stroking your palm in an attempt to get you calm down.

“I really enjoy spending time with you,” his voice has dropped, both his hands now holding your one hand, playing with your fingers.

Both of you have your eyes on your entangled hands, watching as Yoongis fingers gently stroke yours. The tension in the room is thick, the silence only making it worse.

“I’ve really liked being with you too,” you whisper out.

You dare to look into his eyes, his pupils dilated so big there is almost no coffee coloured iris left. He drops your hand, instead reaching out for your face, thumb now caressing your cheek. Your eyes close at the feeling, heart pounding so hard you’re worried it might escape your chest. Taking a deep breath, you open your eyes again, eyes flicking between Yoongis to his lips.

He leans in impossibly slow, forehead resting against yours, then nose brushing yours, before finally his lips touch yours. Lips move together slowly, acting as if they were made for each other, as if they had never tasted anything so sweet.

All too quickly Yoongi pulls away, light puffs of air leaving his lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I really like you,” his gummy smile comes out and you wish you could stay like this forever.

You lean in to kiss him again, this time the kiss is more heated, more desperation behind it. When you feel his tongue poke your lips you moan out and he uses the opportunity access to your mouth. His tongue explores your mouth before dancing together with yours.

When you pull away this time, heavy pants leave both of your lips, as if you had just finished running a marathon.

“Wow,” you breathe. “Can’t believe I just kissed the Min Yoongi,” you joke and a big laugh leaves him, head falling backwards and you get a glimpse of your favourite teeth.

“If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to do it again,” you hum as he pecks your lips a few times before fully pulling away.

Sitting back he takes you in. Lips now slightly red, hair ruffled, eyes wide. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so beautiful.

“So, when did you figure out I knew who you were?” You ask.

“Let’s see,” he has a broad smile on his face as he pretends to think back. “As soon as I left the shop after first meeting you. I wasn’t sure you knew who I was when I was first talking to you but as soon as I was served by Molly I knew if you didn’t already know, you soon would.”

“Well, if it wasn’t for her I would still have no idea who you are,” you say it almost as a defence. “And like I said, I still don’t really know who you are. Though, I did listen to some of your songs this weekend,” you decide to come clean.

“You did?” He seems a bit surprised, though you’re not sure why, who wouldn’t nose about on the internet after discovering someone they met is a celebrity? “What did you think?”

“You were right, nowhere near as good as ABBA,” he laughs hard at your comment. “I liked them, there was some really beautiful lyrics. I can see why you have such a big following.”

He smiles at your words, growing a tad shy receiving your compliments.

“So now it’s all in the open, and you know, that I know, that you’re a multi-millionaire pop star, does this mean I can charge you double for my painting?” If you thought the laugh he gave earlier was big, it was nothing in comparison to the one he gave now. Leaning forward he tackles you so that your back falls against the sofa, him leaning over you, pinning you in place.

“Careful love,” he says before kissing you again.

The remaining week that Yoongi stayed in the village felt like you were living another life. Your lunch time walks continue, but on top of that he comes round to yours for dinner most nights, and also occasionally sits in your studio while you work. He brings his work along to the ‘studio dates’, as Yoongi dubbed it, and though you ask he still won’t allow you to listen to his new music. And towards the end of the week, he even starts sleeping over at yours.

That’s how you wake on his final day, in his arms. Feeling a light kiss to the top of your head you groan as you realise that this would be the last day that you wake up like this. Though it had only been a few days, and you still didn’t fully know the guy, you aren’t sure how you are going to cope when he finally leaves.

You both try to spend your remaining day in blissful unawareness, ignoring the fact that this will be your last day together for who knows how long. Seoul wasn’t far away, but it wouldn’t be as easy to see him after today.

It’s when he packs his bag into his car and pulls you into a hug that your barriers break. All the emotions you’d been keeping at bay that day come crashing out and you cry in his arms. He holds you slightly tighter, hand stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

“It won’t be long until we see each other again,” he whispers into your ear. “And we can call and text all the time.”

“I know, I’m just being stupid,” you blubber at him. ”I’m just going to miss you so much.”

He pulls your head away from his chest, gently run his thumb under your eyes to rid you of tears. “Firstly, you aren’t being stupid. Secondly, I’m going to miss you too. I’m going to miss our lunch time walks, coming to yours for dinner, watching you work. I’m going to miss waking up to you in the mornings. I’ll miss all of it.” He places a light kiss to your lips after the words and you melt into him.

Foreheads resting against each other, he whispers out, “I should probably get going.”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly nod your head. A light kiss is placed on your lips before he fully pulls away. You watch as he gets into the driver's seat and then drives off into the distance.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

“Why don’t you just move to Seoul?” Molly says after witnessing a week of you moping around.

“Because I like it here,” you reply.

“Don’t be dumb, no one likes it here.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“I own a shop here.”

“Well I own a house with an art studio in it,” you pout.

“You can move that art studio anywhere,” she rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh yeah? You want to explain how I would be able to afford the prices in Seoul?”

“I’m sure Yoongi would help you.”

“I don’t want him to help me. It’s not his responsibility to help me.”

“Would you at least just look into it? I’ll come with you to look at places. Please. I have never seen you as happy as you were when he was here. I want you to always be that happy, and moving house should be a small price to pay for that happiness.”

“It’s not just moving house though. He doesn’t live in Seoul. He travels around the world, he is busy, he doesn’t have time for me.”

“Doesn’t have time for you? Then how do you explain the texts he sends you almost every second, how do you explain the fact he has already tried to get dates to see you? You are making excuses for this to not work. You need to stop worrying and jump straight in. You won’t know if it will work or not until you actually give it a go.”

You hum at her, unsure how to respond to her words. They rung true in your head, maybe you were pulling away from Yoongi, as much as you liked him you had insecurities and his life style really brought those out in you. But you also did want to try and see where it could go, you didn’t want to let your insecurities get in the way of something you had never felt before.

“Let’s just look. You aren’t committing to anything, you are just looking,” Molly says.

After a small pause you agree.

You’d had a full day of looking at different spaces around Seoul. Ranging from flats that could house you and a studio space, to flats that didn’t, to separate studio spaces altogether. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but as you hugged Molly goodbye and she got in her car to drive home, you made the trip to Yoongis apartment.

On arrival you were swept into hugs and kisses. It was a welcome you could get used to.

“I missed you,” Yoongi says between kisses, slowly dragging you into the house, eventually finding his sofa.

“I missed you too,” you say in your new position, which was basically being pinned down by Yoongi.

After some catching up physically, Yoongi eventually lets you move enough to sit up. He quizzes you on the places you had visited today, commenting on locations, asking for pictures of the places. You could tell he was excited by the prospect of you moving closer to him, and though you had told him that you’d been thinking of making the move way before meeting him, saying it would help further your art career, you knew that he knew the real reason behind the move, him.

You asked about his day, listened when he told you about his early start, his dance practice and an interview he did. Thinking you’d had a long tiring day now sounded like a whiney excuse.

“And,” he pauses for dramatic effect.

“What?” You start to grow worried at the suspense.

“I got you a present,” he smiles, slowly standing up.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you grow a tad embarrassed.

He leaves the room and then renters just as quickly, hands now behind his back.

“Close your eyes,” he states and when you don’t comply he repeats it with a small pout and whine so that you do it. “Now, hold out your hands,” his voice is now much closer.

You feel something solid but light press down on your hands, and your heart rate picks up as you sense what it might be.

“Now, open your eyes,” his voice comes out as a whisper this time.

You slowly peel your eyes open, and they widen in shock at what is in your hands. You shake slightly as you grip the CD tighter in your grasp eyes flicking over every inch. You slowly peel off the note that is attached and read it.

An exclusive for my biggest fan. Sorry it’s not more like ABBA.

“You used my art?” Tears prick at your eyes instantly at the sight of the painting you did for him on the front of the album.

“It’s kind of why I commissioned it,” he says. “I thought a piece of art by the person that inspired all the songs would be very fitting.”

“You what?” Words fail to commute in your head as you take in what he says.

“I came to your village for a break. I was struggling to get inspired to write music and the company decided that they could free up some time and I could go away and try and get back on track I guess. I wasn’t necessarily intending to stay in the village for that long, but the place interested me. You interested me. And the more I spoke to you the more I found myself being able to write songs.”

“You wrote songs about me?” It still was struggling to make sense to you.

“I probably wrote enough songs about you to fill five albums, not one,” he chuckles lightly.

You look back down at the CD in your hand, tears still falling down your face.

“This is the nicest, sweetest thing anyone has ever done,” you drop the album onto sofa next to you and instead pull Yoongi into your arms.

Yoongis arms encompass you into a tight yet soft hug. And in that moment you know that the decision to move to Seoul was right. That you wanted to try as hard as you could to be with Yoongi. That although it would be hard, it was a journey you were willing to take. Because even if it didn’t work out, any minute you got to spend with the man would be worth a lifetime.

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nerdygaymormon · 3 years

Note

Where do you see the church in like, ten years ish? Just for funsies, don’t have to answer

I gotta tell ya, 10 years in the church isn’t that long, it moves pretty slow. I think it’d be easier to say predictions for 50 years or 100 years because that’s a long enough time frame that real change can occur,

But sticking with the 10-year timeline, I have some ideas

At least one more apostle from Latin America and one from Africa will be called

The move to include women will continue. This might be done in having the Relief Society presidency attend bishopric meetings or sit on the stand during Sacrament Mtg. Letting young women pass the Sacrament. Sister Training Leaders having more authority and the Mission President’s Wife getting an official title to show she is called to work alongside her husband. But the church will stop short of saying women can hold the priesthood.

I think the pandemic has proved how ineffective the old style of missionary work was. They’ll continue to mostly reach out to others online, and their other time will be spent doing community service.

Music will be loosened up. We’ll have new hymnals & songbooks that include a more diverse collection of songs. Instruments beyond the organ & piano will be welcomed, more than just a violin or flute.

I think those are the easy ones, but there’s several serious issues the church needs to tackle. I imagine we’ll make some slow progress on them.

1) I think we’ll see rainbow flags outside temple square for General Conferences and general membership embracing queer people, and the leadership having to address queer topics whenever they allow questions to be asked at meetings/firesides. This pressure will continue the gradual, though grudging, progress forward. a) It’ll be okay for trans people to “socially transition” by wearing whatever clothes they want at church, using their chosen name & their pronouns with no penalty. b) No prohibition of queer people showing affection like holding hands c) There’ll be some sort of guidebook for bishops to help them know how to talk to a youth who has come out d) Whenever BYU teams travel to play other universities, there’ll be vocal support of queer rights and shaming of the church’s refusal to fully welcome & embrace queer people e) A queer club on BYU campuses will be allowed, but under strict supervision f) Some gay dating will be done openly at the BYU schools. BYU doesn’t enforce rules against it but expects bishops to do so, and some bishops will try to stamp it out and others will be relaxed about it, thus making an ambiguous climate g) The temple recommend questions will change again because too many people are disqualified by their support for LGBTQ+ people

2) I think the support of church members for Donald Trump surprised and worries leaders. They’ll speak more forcefully about reliable sources of information, against conspiracy theories, and Republican positions will be less privileged than they have been and more positions that are more comfortable to Democrats will be mentioned by leaders as an attempt to pull us out of the morass of the right-wing conspiracy world

3) Maybe within the next 10 years we might get a General Conference talk from someone who has some doubts, who has gone through a faith crisis. People who haven’t gone through those things, or at least can’t openly speak of such, they have a hard time speaking in a way that connects with people experiencing doubt and a shift in their faith.

4) Sadly I don’t see race being addressed over the next 10 years. The church seems to feel there’s nothing more it needs to do for Black members. I predict the partnership with the NAACP will occasionally be spoken of by our leaders while the NAACP leaders will say it’s over and are surprised we still talk about it, that they found us an unwilling partner

5) More home-study type programs will be created, and this will serve to create 2 tiers of members. Those who regularly do Come, Follow Me and other home study will be privileged, those who don’t will increasingly miss the insider references and won’t feel so connected to the community

Derek Knox likes to say that the things which are right about the church can fix the things that are wrong with it. I believe that, but will we let that happen?

On sensitive topics, our church doesn’t lead, instead it waits until the pain of not changing exceeds the pain involved in making change.

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xhxhxhx · 4 years

Text

Some Journeys to the West

Looking over the United Nations Convention against Torture today, I learned that China signed the Convention in 1985 and acceded to it in 1988, both times with some reservations. Those reservations are significant, but I think the accession is significant too.

By acceding to the Convention, China opened itself to periodic reviews of its progress. I think those reviews are interesting. They say some ugly things about China. I want to talk about the Convention, and torture in China, but first I want to ask a question:

Why did China sign the Convention in the first place?

Before anything, I think it’s important to remember how different the 1980s was, in China more than anywhere else.

China had just emerged from the leadership of Mao Zedong and the Chinese Community Party was looking for an alternative to his style of permanent revolution, which had left the country so deeply scarred. Mao had demand mass popular mobilizations to transform the economy, society, and the world. Each time he would kill millions. Each time he came back for more. The toll was immense. “Had Mao died in 1956, his achievements would have been immortal,” one party elder said. “Had he died in 1966, he would still have been a great man but flawed. But he died in 1976. What can you say?”

Mao had threatened first the United States, then India, then the Soviet Union with total war. “How many people would die if war should break out?” he asked. A third of the world? Half? It didn’t matter. “If the worst came to the worst and half of mankind died, the other half would remain while imperialism would be razed to the ground and the whole world would become socialist.” It was more than Leonid Brezhnev could bear. “With appalling airiness and cynicism he spoke of the possible destruction of half of mankind in the event of an atomic war,” he later remembered. It was 1969 and Mao was threatening war again. That was just how he was.

“I graduated from the University of Outlaws,” Mao told his doctor more than once. He certainly acted like it. He liked to think of himself as the Monkey King, the irreverent and mischievous protagonist of Journey to the West who makes war on the heavenly government of the Jade Emperor and pisses on the Buddha’s hand. “We need more Monkey Kings to disrupt the heavenly palace,” Mao said. Beijing’s Red Guards answered in kind: “Revolutionaries are like the Monkey King: their golden staff is powerful, their supernatural powers are sweeping, and their magic is omnipotent. They possess enormous supernatural powers, and we use our sorcery to turn the old world on its head, crush it into pieces, turn it into dust, create chaos and great disorder, the bigger the better!” They were as good as their word.

By the 1980s, the Chinese Communist Party had had quite enough of that, and so, rather less critically, had China. It was a different sort of time. China had a different style of leader. It got one, in the shape of a diminutive Sichuanese chain-smoking bridge player named Deng Xiaoping.

II.

Deng Xiaoping was an introvert. His daughter said he liked to keep his experiences to himself. He had enough of them. Deng was a veteran of the Long March, the Yen’an base, the Sino-Japanese War and the Chinese Civil War. He had been purged in the Jiangxi Soviet, in 1966 in the Cultural Revolution, and again after Mao’s death in 1976. He was a survivor. He survived Mao. Then he replaced him.

As the paramount leader of China, Deng was more of a reformist than either his predecessors or successors. He opened China to the world, brought the world to China, and started making China rich. China would learn from the world before threatening it with war. Deng backed a plan to send 10,000 students abroad, most of them scientists. “If a few run away, it doesn’t matter,” he said. It was enough that some who came back.

Under Deng, foreign investment flowed into China’s coastal provinces. He turned Guangzhou into a sort of open market, a Special Economic Zone. He got the idea after a Hong Kong company came to Guangdong to find a place to break up ships for scrap. After all, he said, “Wasn’t Yen’an a special zone?” By the end of the 1980s, about 50,000 Chinese managers were running factories for foreign investors.

Deng was also less of an autocrat than other Chinese leaders. There were nearly no statues of him in public buildings and nearly no pictures of him in private homes. There were few songs or plays about him. He kept that to himself.

In Communist China, the paramount leader is generally both president and general secretary, but Deng was neither. He gave the presidency to a nonentity and the secretaryship to Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang. For a brief moment, the pair became the living embodiment of reform.

Hu liked to talk to intellectuals. (Mao said he “likes to talk.”) He went unannounced to the home of a student imprisoned after the 1976 Tiananmen Square protests and talked with him for hours about reform. During the Democracy Wall period, he invited leaders of the democracy movement to his home to talk politics. That was just what he was like. But he was probably a little too close to the intellectuals for his own good.

In 1987, widespread student protests forced Hu to resign. He seemed too close to them, a little too much of a Westernizer. (The suggestion wasn’t entirely unfair. Hu had once suggested the Chinese should drop their chopsticks and pick up knives and forks. It would be cleaner, he said.) The opportunistic Zhao said Hu had shown “timidity in the struggle against liberalism“. But Zhao had some reforms of his own. He called them “neo-authoritarian”. It was a strange name for a package that involved more devolution, more legalism, and more public consultation and dialogue. But in a way, it was reassuring. The name told the party its leaders intended to keep control.

The most important of Zhao’s proposals, the one Chinese political scientists called “the most wonderful”, was party democracy. Under Zhao, the Chinese would be elections with more candidates than there were seats. In a happy coincidence, in the first elections held under the new system, the deposed Hu Yaobang was returned to the Politburo and the Central Committee, and a high-profile hardliner was not. It seemed the reformers were still in command.

Under Zhao, the party agreed to remove the portraits of Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin from Tiananmen Square after the regime’s fortieth anniversary celebrations in October 1989. He ordered the immediate removal of two Mao statues from Beijing University campus in the middle of the night, after at least one failed attempt to demolish them on the spot. Ideologically, Beijing was changing overnight.

It was, in other words, the perfect time for China to sign the Convention against Torture. China would change, however slowly. It would take the first steps towards a new style of authoritarianism. The Chinese Communist Party would keep control, but it would embrace reform and opening. That was the idea, at least.

Zhao didn’t make it to that October 1989. The Beijing Spring started with Hu’s funeral in April 1989 ended with Zhao’s arrest that June. Tiananmen Square revealed that the reformers were never really in command. Deng was. Behind reform and opening, behind party democracy, there was Deng. Less autocratic than Mao, but an autocrat all the same.

All through the Beijing Spring, Deng worried. He worried about the students. He worried about the party. And before anything else, he worried about control. On that fateful day in June, he turned on the students, on reform and opening, and on the world. China revealed itself for what it was and always had been. It was a Communist autocracy. It always would be.

III.

The Convention against Torture is short. China agreed to most of it. That has consequences.

That isn’t a high bar. The Soviet Union acceded to the Convention with the same reservations as China at the same time. But it wasn’t a bar we would have necessarily expected China to pass. Nor is it one we would expect China to pass today. Vietnam, Laos and Angola did not accede to the Convention until the 2010s. Iran and North Korea never have.

Under the Convention China acknowledges its obligation to prevent torture, to criminalize torture, to investigate and prosecute torture, and to fully instruct certain public officials about the prohibition against torture. Arts. 2(a), 4, 6, 10, and 12. China also acknowledges its obligation to provide certain procedures and remedies for torture: complainants have the right to petition and obtain impartial review from competent authorities; the government complainants and witnesses; victims have the right to adequate compensation; and evidence obtained by torture is admissible. Arts. 13, 14(1), 15.

However, China does not recognize the competence of the Convention Committee against Torture to review or investigate allegations of systematic torture in its territory. Arts. 20(1), 20(2), 20(3). Nor has China recognized Committee competence to hear allegations from other states or victims of state torture. Arts. 21, 22.

China is not alone in declining Committee review. Israel, Kuwait, Laos, Oman, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Syria, the United Arab Emirates, and Vietnam did the same, along with some African and Caribbean states. The United States recognizes Committee competence over allegations of systematic torture and allegations from other states, but not from individual victims of state torture.

Despite those reservations, the Convention still provides for some review of China’s conduct. China must submit reports on its undertakings under the Convention and additional reports the Committee may request. Art. 19(1). The Committee can comment on those reports, China can reply, and the Committee can publish both its own comments and China’s replies. Arts. 19(3), 19(4).

The Committee is constituted as an expert tribunal. Art. 17(1). Although it has limited powers of investigation, the Committee poses questions, takes evidence, hears submissions, and arrives at reasoned conclusions. Its reviews thus present fairly comprehensive reviews of China’s progress.

They make for some interesting reading.

IV.

I read the 2015 Concluding Report on China, which is the most recent. It’s fairly direct about what’s happening in China.

In China, torture is commonplace. The Committee found that “the practice of torture and ill-treatment is still deeply entrenched in the criminal justice system.” In China, most allegations of torture involve police officers and their detainees in pretrial or unlawful custody. [20]

The Committee noted that China has a number of broadly-defined criminal offences, from “picking quarrels and provoking troubles” and “gathering a crowd to disturb social order” to more serious offences against national security. Chinese criminal law also includes broadly defined offences grouped under “endangering national security” and “terrorism”, whose scope is even more expansive than the statutory definition suggests. China declined to clarify the criteria it used to define these offences. [36]

The Committee found that many Chinese citizens, especially dissidents and minorities, were charged or threatened with such charges as forms of intimidation. [36] It heard “numerous reports from credible sources that document in detail cases of torture, deaths in custody, arbitrary detention and disappearances of Tibetans.” Although the Committee requested information on 26 such cases, China had only provided information on two. [40] During its hearings, seven human rights defenders who were planning to cooperate with the Committee were barred from travelling or detained on the grounds that their participation could “endanger national security”. [38]

Chinese police officers have enormous powers over criminal investigations and detention, with limited control by the judiciary. Because the Chinese criminal justice system depends on confessions, police officers face incentives to use torture to produce them. [20] (Significantly, police interrogations do not always need to be recorded, while the recordings themselves are selective, and audited by the police.) [34] And because the police run China’s detention centers, investigators face incentives to use detention the same way. [20]

Detainees can be arrested and detained for 7 days without charges and for a further 30 days before coming before a judge. [10] They do not have the right to speak to a lawyer upon detention, but only within 48 hours of asking for one. Chinese police constantly refuse detainees access to lawyers on State secrets grounds, even when no State security offence is charged. Nor is that right to counsel absolute. In cases of “endangering State security”, “terrorism” or serious “bribery”, the police have to grant the lawyer permission first. If they believe it might hinder their investigation or disclose State secrets, they can withhold permission indefinitely. [12] Those detainees can be placed in residential detention “at a designated location” for six months. Their family does not need to be told where they are being detained, or why. [14]

China told the Committee it considered solitary confinement a “management method.” In detention centers, all detainees at risk of self-harm or suspected of mental illness are placed in solitary confinement, as are those in China’s compulsory drug treatment centers who are not “reformed through education”. [26] On death row, detainees are always shackled, 24 hours a day. (The Committee praised China for abolishing the practice of harvesting the organs of the executed dead without their consent, but Committee expressed some concern that their consent might not be freely given). [49]

China declined the Committee’s requests for information on deaths in custody from torture and neglect. It did not provide complete information on torture complaints or any information on investigations on the number of investigations into complaints. [22] And it provided no statistics on deaths in custody or information about official investigations into deaths in custody. [24] Doctors in Chinese detention centers have incentives to suppress evidence of torture. In detention centers, the police verify doctors’ medical examinations, and doctors must report any signs of torture to the police. [16] China declined to provide information about the number of medical examinations overturned by prosecutors or objected to by family. [24]

Chinese detention extends beyond official detention. The Committee found extended use of alternative forms of administrative detention, such as “legal education centres”, “measures for the custody and education” of persons suspected of prostitution, “compulsory isolation in drug treatment centres” and compulsory psychiatric institutionalization. Police can put people in administrative detention without judicial process. [42] The Chinese Communist Party itself has a internal discipline system, shaunggui, beyond the official police investigation and detention system. It can summon and investigate officials outside the ordinary law enforcement system, interrogating them without counsel. [44]

Nor does Chinese detention regime end there. Beyond official or administrative detention, the Committee found a continuing practice of illegal detention in unrecognized and unofficial detention places. These are China’s “black jails.” China denies their existence and declined to provide any information on secret detention facilities or allegations of rape and death therein. [42]

Finally, China extradites to torture. North Korea is one of the few countries not to sign the Convention against Torture. Torture is common there. For those repatriated to the country, torture is systematic. The Committee received testimony from more than 100 North Korean nationals to that effect. It is not a country anyone should ever be deported to. In China, that deportation is policy. [46]

China rigorously and forcibly repatriates all North Korean nationals on its territory, identifying them as illegal migrants that have crossed the border solely for economic reasons. China declined to answer the Committee’s question about whether or not North Koreans are denied access to refugee determination procedures through the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. [46]

Under the Convention, state parties must submit periodic reports every four years. Art. 19(1). In their 2015 Concluding Report, the Committee asked China to submit theirs by December 2019. [66] China hasn’t submitted one yet.

There have been five Concluding Reports on China already, across the decades since China acceded to the Convention in 1988. Some things have changed since then. Today Xi Jinping is both President and General Secretary, more powerful than any paramount leader since Mao Zedong. China is far wealthier and more powerful than it was then.

Others haven’t. China has refused to investigate excessive force and human rights violations by military officers during the suppression of the June 1989 Tiananmen Square protests. It told the Committee that its actions “were necessary and correct” and the case was “closed.” [53] That was a perspective Deng and Xi shared.

Like Deng, Xi worries. He even worries about the same things. He worries about the students. He worries about the party. And before anything else, he worries about control. That much is the same. But there is one important difference between them: Xi only has one face.

For a moment, Deng opened China to the world, opened the world to China, and made China rich. He made sure China would learn from the world before threatening it with war. He made space for reform. Then, in June 1989, he turned away from it all.

So Deng was two-faced. Maybe it was a survival tactic, maybe it was something else, but it was a second face, different from the first. Xi only has the one. He never believed in reform and opening. He was always the man Deng became in June 1989.

China’s 1988 accession to the Convention is the legacy of a moment when it seemed like China might become something better. The Committee Reports show how little it has done to improve.

I would like to read the next one. I wonder if we’ll ever see it.

Sources: United Nations General Assembly, Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, 10 December 1984, United Nations, Treaty Series, vol. 1465, p. 85; United Nations Treaty Collection, IV-9: Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, status as at 08-07-2020 05:00:47 EDT; Secretary-General of the United Nations, Depository Notification issued February 24, 1987, C.N.314.1986.TREATIES-11 (noting Chinese signature of December 12, 1986); idem., Depository Notification issued November 9, 1988, C.N.228.1988.TREATIES-13 (noting Chinese accession of October 4, 1988); “Big Bad Wolf,” The Economist, August 31, 2006 (quotation slightly modified); Roderick MacFarquhar, The Origins of the Cultural Revolution, Vol. 2, The Great Leap Forward, 1958-1960 (Columbia, 1974), 10; Frank Dikötter, The Cultural Revolution, 1962-1976: A People’s History (Bloomsbury, 2016), 207; “Mao Zedong’s Speech at the First Plenary Session of the CCP’s Ninth Central Committee,” April 29, 1969, trans. Chen Jian, Wilson Center Digital Archive; Julia Lovell, Maoism: A Global History (Knopf, 2019), 55-56; Quinn Slobodian, Foreign Front: Third World Politics in Sixties West Germany (Duke, 2012), 176; Jonathan Fenby, Modern China: The Fall and Rise of a Great Power, 1850 to the Present (Ecco, 2009), 531, 535, 539, 564, 576, 577; Richard Baum, Burying Mao: Chinese Politics in the Age of Deng Xiaoping (Princeton, 1994), 67, 75, 216-17, 220, 222-23; Ezra F. Vogel, Deng Xiaoping and the Transformation of China (Belknap, 2011), 377; Nicholas D. Kristof, “Hu Yaobang, Ex-Party Chief in China, Dies at 73,” New York Times, April 16, 1989; United Nations Committee against Torture, “Concluding Observations on the Fifth Periodic Report of China,” distributed February 3, 2016; Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Reporting Status for China, United Nations Treaty Body Database, accessed July 8, 2020.

Correction:

An earlier version of this post suggested that Poland had not recognized the competence of the Convention Committee against Torture to review or investigate allegations of systematic torture in its territory. That was an error. Poland does recognize the Committee’s competence to so.

Poland ratified the Convention without reservations in July 1989. Secretary-General of the United Nations (UN SG), Depository Notification issued August 27, 1993, C.N.192.1989.TREATIES-9 (noting Polish declaration of July 26, 1989). Although did not formally withdraw the reservations it made when it signed the Convention in January 1986, Poland’s decision to ratify the Convention without reservations had the same effect as if it had.

Reservations are only legally effective if formally confirmed when the treaty becomes binding. Art. 23(2) of United Nations General Assembly (UNGA), Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, 23 May 1969, United Nations, Treaty Series, vol. 1155, p. 331. As Poland acknowledged in its first report to the Committee, its “ratification was not accompanied by any reservations.” “Initial Reports of States Parties Due in 1990: Poland,” published May 21, 1993, CAT/C/9/Add.13, at p. 3. Poland ratified the Convention whole.

Poland has also acknowledged that the Committee is competent to hear and review both state party claims that it is not fulfilling its obligations under the Convention and claims from individual victims of state torture. UN SG, Depository Notification issued August 27, 1993, C.N.157.1993.TREATIES-4 (noting Polish declaration of May 12, 1993).

Poland has also ratified the Optional Protocol to the Convention against Torture, which provides for “a system of regular visits undertaken by independent international and national bodies to places where people are deprived of their liberty, in order to prevent torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.” UN SG, Depository Notification issued April 4, 2004, C.N.326.2004.TREATIES-3 (Polish signature of same date); idem., Depository Notification issued September 14, 2005, C.N.735.2005.TREATIES-16 (Polish ratification of same date); UNGA, Optional Protocol to the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, United Nations, Treaty Series, vol. 2375, p. 237.

Neither the United States nor the United Kingdom have acknowledged that the Committee is competent to hear claims from individual victims of state torture. United Nations Treaty Collection, IV-9: Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, status as at 09-07-2020 05:00:46 EDT. Neither the United States nor Canada has ratified the Optional Protocol. Idem., IV-9b: Optional Protocol to the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, status as at 09-07-2020 05:00:46 EDT.

We regret the error.

#effortpost

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lixiefe · 4 years

Text

October Requests: 01

↪ Pitiful Ogre- h.js

↪Wc: 1.4k

songs: major lazor & dj snake, ft. mo- lean on major lazor ft. justin bieber and mo

Blow a kiss, fire a gun We need someone to lean on Blow a kiss, fire a gun All we need is somebody to lean on

To say you were annoyed is an insult to understatement; you were raging, fuming and emancipating smoke through your ear- the red horns of your head much included. Your fingers crumpled around the notebook pages, nails digging into the sides. Your teeth chattered in irritation and hair stood up in the extreme holding back you were putting unwanted effort into.

Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him.

Still, putting your enormous urge aside, you tried your best to concentrate on the bunch of information written on the opened papers- the entirety of it flying atop your head. You felt like they were taunting you to the best, subduing you into the inanimate hole of ‘you’re sure to fail’. And accompanied with the loud sounds coming from your fellow neighbor- who was as careless as to blast songs at midnight right before the day of exam- it felt like the whole universe was against you.

Han Jisung was one lad who’s always managed to get onto your nerves quicker than a mosquito. When you first enrolled into your current institution, people praised you for your patience and your consistency to keep studying for hours. However, Han Jisung proved them- and you- wrong in a matter of minutes. It was as easy as pouring water in a glass for him to break your concentration, make you grit your teeth and yell at him.

And the first time you screamed a not-so-subtle ‘shut the fuck up’, what did he do? He laughed. He laughed like he’s had his biggest entertainment and walked away while the students in the library stared wide eyed.

Blow a kiss, fire a gun We need someone to lean on Blow a kiss, fire a gun All we need is somebody to lean on

And now, he probably wanted you to fail your damn exams so he could get one competitor out of his way. But this! This was a cheap trick to secure your position in academics- prohibiting the concentration of the one who challenges your marks.

What will we do when we get old? Will we walk down the same road?

Your limbs won’t stay patient any more.

Han Jisung, you win.

You slam the pencil against the table and aggressively get up, mumbling an angry ‘enough’ under your breath. You stomp your way out of the doors and stand in front of the next room. With anger evident in your fingers, you start ramming onto the doorbell- with the same consistency he always challenged.

You stood there for a solid minute, rampaging the doorbell until he showed any sign of his mighty existence. Which he did however, peeking his head out of the door with his red and black beats headphone dangling on his neck, hair ruffled in hundred different directions and the expression of nonchalance on his face as his body repeatedly swung with the beats.

"What do you want?"

What did I want? You click your tongue in sarcasm, pushing up your pajama sleeve as you take one step closer.

"What do I want? Is that your question?" you ask with witticism, looking deadly into his eyes. His actions completely contradict the innocence of those sparkling orbs, so do his body language.

"I thought you hear just fine?" he says, with zero realization of what he's doing rather thoughtlessly.

"Listen here, I'm so done with you testing my limits. I will not stand it anymore!"

By the time you finish stabbing the air with your fingers- your ears flaring and rage spooking around your head like a foggy combustion- he repeatedly clicks his tongue as well as shaking his head in chagrin, emanating the 'tsk tsk' sound you so hated.

"Stop that."

He does it louder after you oppose, opening the door wider to let his relaxed composure show. Just to annoy you a little more.

"Stop that!"

This time, he does so, but the look on his face is ever so nerve-wrecking- more on the side where you can't endure his arrogance any longer.

"Pitiful ogre."

"....", your face scrunches faster than your willpower of keeping calm at the least costs and you fall into a fit just right then. "WHAT did you say?!"

"I called you a pitiful ogre," he repeats.

"I heard that just fine!" you take a shaky breath, stepping even closer with an exasperated menace, "Just who do you take yourself for? Just because you can top exams with minimum preparation, like you'd rather blow another raspberry, doesn't mean everyone has the same capacity as you. And blasting songs like this in the middle of the night when we're in the most critical timeline of preparing ourselves, is impudent! Can't you be a little more considerate-"

Freeze.

He suddenly clamps a hand on your mouth, halting you in the middle of your lecture. "Take a deep breath. Like this, follow me," he says, immediately inhaling as per his words as he signals you to follow him. You restrain against his hands, in much opposition, but he clamps you tighter, again telling you to follow him.

His palm on your lips feel disgusting; with the sticky residue of perspiration and the saline smell of it triggers your hygiene. For the ultimate sake of getting his sweaty palm off of your face, you reluctantly take a deep breath- not much long, but just enough to satisfy his persistence.

"Your palms are sweaty," you say, in distaste, promptly when he retracts his hand from your mouth.

"As if I didn't know," he replies. "Look here princess, I strongly disagree with the fact that i’m disturbing other students, because there’s no other students on this floor. I doubt about the rest of the building too."

Strangely enough the tone of his voice isn't drop down annoying, doesn't itch at your ears either- he feels like a decent human being making a decent conversation- which you weren't so sure he could do.

"Well you're disturbing me, so its-"

"I've been watching you study the entire day like a lifeless robot. Take a break, will you? I was waiting for you to knock on my door and yell at me."

Aha.

His intentions still aren't so naive.

The ulterior action of his intention still drops down to one fact- getting you to stop cramming. Be it for the fact that you, visibly in your neighbors eye, needed rest; or be it that he wanted to discourse your flow of revising the entire syllabus in one night- he's just completely disrupted you.

Should you consider his words to be true?

However, your mind calms down a little at his conciliatory tone and you reply rather composedly, "I need to give my best, do you understand? So it's necessary that I pour my all into that."

He makes a subtle eye roll, then looking you straight in the eyes, "And then what? Not have enough energy during the examination? Isn't that why your overall scores don't match your class performance?"

"..."

You cast your eyes down, he was right afterall. Despite preparing with all you’ve got, you were never able to do as you wanted. So far you’ve thought sleep isn’t important, nor is health, when you’re going through a tough routine of examinations. But you knew in yourself that it would’ve been so much more effective if you slept a few more hours, or took a proper meal in the afternoon.

Seems like he did know better.

"Look, cook a ramen, eat it and sleep. I know you've done your best, and I know you'll give your best too. That is, if you don't drowse on the question paper," he advices, vague and indiscriminate care in the middle of it.

Even after his rather humanitarian deed- almost like a betrayer, you ask, "Couldn't you have done this differently?"

He lifts one eyebrow up, lips forming a cocky smile, "A mastermind never does anything casually"

You almost snicker at that- yeah sure, a mastermind. Who can come up with such devastating ideas to gauge the nerves out of someone- simply for the sake of getting them to stop fretting. So maybe Han Jisung has always been unique, a little peculiar for his own sake and a little too talented. As long as you could put up with his quirks, he was actually pretty nice; quite the friend too.

"Pitiful ogre."

"I accept that, miss Fiona."

When the nights are long Longing for you to come home All around the wind blows We would only hold on to let go

All we need is somebody to lean on

dhjwkscbkw

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1161

survey by pichu4850

What color do you think of when I say...

Anger? Red, or a really bright red-orange.

Confusion? Gray.

Inspiration? Sky blue. Both word and color give off calming vibes to me.

Shy? Something like an off-white shade, and maybe even pastel pink.

Agony? Olive green was the first color to come to mind, though I have no idea why.

Sleep? Dark blue, like the night sky.

Chipper? Yellow.

Beautiful? Red, the way roses are.

Morning? Light blue or yellow.

Would you rather be named...

Andrea or Aimee? Andrea.

Emily or Erica? Emily. I know an Erycka that I’m not too fond of, so this is an easy pass.

Kelsey or Casey? Casey, though I’d mix up my name a bit and have it be pronounced and spelled as Cassie.

Madeleine or Marina? Eh, not really a fan of either but I’d mos likely go for Madeleine.

Alec or Aaron? Alec.

Ryan or Ross? Not a fan of both names as well though I’d probably go with Ryan, but only as a feminine name.

Dylan or Daniel? Dylan.

Jack or Jordan? I guess Jack, if I have to pick.

Gabriel or Gavin? Gabriel.

How often do you...

Brush your teeth? Once or twice a day.

Eat breakfast? Twice a week, during weekends; though sometimes I’ll end up skipping it for an entire week altogether.

Check your email? I literally never check my personal email anymore after having gotten hired, but I know I should quit that habit and check it every once in a while just in case an intriguing opportunity might come my way. My work email is a different story; I have to use it everyday. I open my emails even during weekends so that when I report to my shift on Monday, my Gmail won’t look as clogged.

Go to the mall? When quarantine protocols loosened up a bit I used to go either on Saturdays or Sundays for some me time as well as some much-needed time away from the house, for the sake of my mental health and sanity. But now that we’re going through another surge in cases, no one’s allowed to go out again and malls are back to just keeping the essential stores open.

Go to the beach? A few times a year, at least before the pandemic. I haven’t been to the beach since 2019.

Play card games? Only happens once in a blue moon, when I get together with friends and someone happens to bring a deck of cards. This isn’t a usual occurrence with any of my friend groups, though.

Have at least 20 minute phone calls? Never. I have 20-minute Google Meet and Zoom calls instead.

Paint your nails? They are never painted.

Wish you were happier? Every now and then.

Did you ever want to be...

A veterinarian? Yes, when I was younger. I once stumbled upon an interview with a horse vet on one of my kid’s almanacs and thought what they did was so cool.

An astronaut? Yup, definitely became a big obsession of mine at one point in my childhood. I still think it would be cool to go to outer space and should the opportunity ever become accessible in my lifetime, I wouldn’t want to miss out on it.

An artist? Not really. I knew from the get go I wasn’t meant to be one.

A school teacher? I would guess yes, but I definitely wasn’t as interested in teaching compared to being an astronaut or like a firefighter.

A housewife? Lmfao yeah. This was the answer I would give when I was like 8 up until I was probably 10 and I knew it stressed out my Asian mother big time. My grandpa got a kick out of it, though.

A firefighter? Yes. This was up there with astronaut.

A princess? Not so much.

A lawyer? I definitely considered law for a brief period, but it was already during my latter college years. There wasn’t enough time to mull over it. But hearing all the law school horror stories from my friends kind of made me relieved I didn’t push through with it; I knew I wasn’t passionate enough about law to want to go through all the hardships that come with law school, so I was fine letting that dream go, and still am.

A doctor? This was never a dream of mine.

Would you consider yourself...

Materialistic? Yes.

Pessimistic? It comes out occasionally, but I don’t think it’s a main trait of mine that people would generally see me as.

Avoidant? Not so much. I can be shy and anxious sometimes but I get over it at some point.

Sarcastic? Only occasionally. I wouldn’t say I speak the language.

Talkative? Definitely not. I hate being in the spotlight, and whenever it’s my turn to share a story or talk in a group I usually have the tendency to rush through it or make it as short as possible so as to return the spotlight on someone else. I’ve always been more of a listener.

Strange? Maybe not strange but weird to an extent?

Intelligent? I guess in some ways.

Lucky? In some ways I am, but I also got handed the short end of the stick in other contexts.

In the next twenty-four hours, will you...

Talk to someone you care about? Probably. I talk to at least one friend a day.

Go to work? Yep, I’ll finally be going back to work since the Holy Week break is over. My workaholic self felt kinda unsettled with all the free time, so I’m actually kinda relieved.

Go to school? I’m not in school anymore.

Be in a different city? Nope, it’ll be working from home for me like usual. We were initially allowed to book visits to the office if we really needed to go there to pack some goodies and stuff, but because of re-heightened Covid protocols our admin has once again prohibited anyone to go there for the meantime.

Read a book? I highly doubt it. I haven’t read any in months.

Watch a movie? Nope. It’ll be a Monday coming from a 4-day break, so it will be incredibly busy tomorrow as there would be a lot to catch up on.

Go to a dentist/orthodontist appointment? No, I won’t.

Do your laundry? My parents probably will seeing as our hamper was nearly full the last time I checked.

True or False: Family...

I have two brothers or more. I only have one brother.

My mom lives with me. This is technically true but isn’t phrased right in my case. I’m currently living with my parents.

My grandparent(s) live with me. No, we moved out of our duplex (where I did use to live with my grandparents) well over a decade ago.

I have half-siblings. Don’t have any.

I am the oldest in my family. Eldest child, that is.

I am an only child. I have two other siblings.

I have 15 cousins I can name off the top of my head. Easily. My first cousins are less than 15 in total, but I know a good number of my second and third cousins as well so this is a cakewalk.

The nearest Aunt or Uncle lives less than an hour away from me. The aforementioned duplex we moved out of is just at the next village; we didn’t move too far so that we can continue visiting them.

True or False: Food...

I am allergic to chocolate. I’m not, fortunately. I’m not crazy about chocolate but I’d be pretty miserable if I could never have it either.

I like vegetables more than fruit. Infinitely more, hahaha. I hate fruits.

I have tried pizza dipped in ranch sauce. Ranch isn’t a very common dressing where I’m from, so it’s not usually offered in restaurants. Given the chance, though, I’d definitely try my pizza with ranch at least once.

I've never eaten kiwi fruit. True, but then again I’ve never eaten most fruits and don’t plan to.

I love junk food.

I love to try new food.

Ketchup goes best with fries (chips). I don’t like ketchup and barely put it on anything.

I like fried rice. I haven’t met an Asian who doesn’t like fried rice.

I can prepare dinner for myself (using a stove or oven).

I hate sushi.

How many...

Pairs of shoes do you have? A little over 10, maybe? I don’t feel like counting in my head rn.

Songs do you have on your music player? I don’t have a music player anymore.

Hours of sleep did you get last night? Around 4.

Times have you had alcohol? Like, ever since I started drinking when I was 18? I never kept track lmao but if I would guess, maybe around 50-60 times? I’m not a regular drinker; I drink probably once or twice a month at most.

Books have you read/started reading in the past month? None.

Windows in your house/apartment are open? I know my parents and sister have their windows open at the moment, so that’s 2. Mine are usually open as well, but I’ve turned on my aircon so I’ve closed them for the night.

Pets do you have? 2.

Kids do you have/want to have? I’d cut it off a a maximum of 3 kids, but having just 1 would already be so nice.

Minutes does it take to get from your home to school or work? I work from home, but in the two times I went to the actual office it took anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour.

Have you ever...

Spilled a cup of grape juice on the carpet? I don’t think I’ve ever even encountered grape juice in my entire life.

Played spin the bottle? I don’t think I’ve ever played this. My friends and I usually resort to truth or dare.

Played Twister? Yes, and there are many fond memories that come with it as well. So when I was 7 years old I befriended Katreen, and her mom and mine hit it off instantly so they started this arrangement where every Friday, her mom picked me and my sister up from school along with Katreen and her sisters, and we’d stay for several hours at their place until my mom would pick us up. Her mom was an amazing host and every week we’d play Twister, watch Pokemon, read books together, etc; anything to keep us comfortable and entertained.

Been caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing? It’s bound to happen every now and then.

Walked out of a movie because it was horrible? I’ve gotten this feeling a few times but I always stayed in my seat because I paid for the damn ticket.

Given the finger to someone on the street? Oh most definitely, as well as drivers passing by. And it’s always been towards men that are being disgusting pigs.

Been so sad/angry that you started laughing? Sure.

Been in a wedding? Yes, but I only got invited as a kid since I was usually picked to be one of the flower girls. I haven’t been to a family wedding since 2007.

Been in a situation where you almost died? Probably not died but almost substantially injured, sure.

Misc...

Are you stressing out about anything right now? Just worried about the deluge of tasks that will inevitably come at me tomorrow but knowing how easygoing my bosses are, I know I’ll be able to ease up soon enough.

Do you think before acting or act before thinking? I used to be the latter but I now see the importance of first considering possible consequences of or how others would be affected by my actions.

Do you act upon your emotions and instinct, or logic and reasoning? Again, I used to be one of these, this time the former. Now that I’m at a much more stable and peaceful place in my life I try not to let my emotions get the best of me.

What are some personality traits you find appealing in a potential partner? I had a number of negative experiences in my last relationship so forgive me for scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to my expectations lmaaaao – I’d love for someone to be sensitive to my needs and feelings, and for them to be able to own up to their mistakes or hurtful habits and know how to apologize and be open to changing if it’s for their self-improvement.

How have you changed as a person in the last 5 years? I tolerate less bullshit now. I think I’ve also grown to be happier and a lot more stable, emotionally. I also have a better sense of what I want out of life and where I want to be, and I’ve also learned to be more sociable and open up to people.

If you could do anything you wanted right this moment, what would it be? Order sushi :(

Is there anyone you can totally relax and be yourself around? Yes, that’s what my friends are for. If I can’t feel comfortable around my friends, I’d view that as a problem.

Did you ever wanted to say something to someone, didn't, and regretted it? No.

Are you scared about the future? I’m scared of the idea of not meeting some of my goals, like having a family; but I’m also excited about what the future could bring me.

#survey #surveys

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moveslikebucky · 3 years

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12 Days of Blasphemy Day 11 - “And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly,” (Song of Songs 7:9)

The roaring 20s are in full swing in New York, and Crowley puts on her best and shortest dress to take advantage of the party scene. She isn’t expecting to see Aziraphale, nor is she expecting what follows.

[ Previous Prompt | Next Prompt ]

Catching up on posting these, as I fell behind on twitter and Tumblr; the final one will be posted on Tumblr tomorrow!

This one is for my dear friend @cassieoh, who I love with my entire heart. Your art is gorgeous and your soul is even more beautiful, I’m so glad to count you as my friend <3

Snippet as always below, full fic on AO3 <3 (heads up, this is an angsty one)

---

Crowley’s borrowed (or stolen, more accurately) car swerves around traffic, keeping pace with the other cars and their paths. New York in the Decade of Decadence: the perfect place for a demon to lie low. The big Seven are in full swing here, nothing for her to do but sit back and watch the commendations roll in. Prohibition helps, makes them desperate for more alcohol than they should be able to physically drink. Alcohol begets lowered inhibitions, begets bad decisions, and on and on they go, with barely a whisper of suggestion from her.

And now she is headed for the epicenter of it all, West Egg. Everyone in New York went there on the weekends, and she had avoided it best she could. But Hell was interested in what was going on at these large parties, and felt it was an opportunity that Crowley was missing.

She pulls the car to a screeching halt near the fountains with the rest of them, all bright colors and shiny chrome. They’re fun, these new things. The old runabouts never could quite get the speed these new ones do. Bit of a thrill if she’s honest; clever humans and their machines.

Crowds of people, already drunk before even entering the mansion, shuffle towards the entrance. Crowly blends in with them, ready to charm her way inside with a bit of temptation. She’s in a slinky red number, barely long enough to graze her knees. The beadwork on it taps pleasingly as she saunters towards the entrance. Her eyes are lined in thick kohl, eyelashes curled high. Her red hair is chopped short, a sleek bob that accentuates her high cheekbones. The look is topped off with a brush of blood-red lipstick, dark as the night.

She charms her way past the doorman, into the main hall of the manor house. The people are loud, the jazz music louder. A drink is shoved into her hand without her even asking, and she downs the Sidecar in one gulp, already riding the elation and electricity of the evening. Everywhere people are dancing, in tuxedos with tails and dresses that leave nothing to the imagination. It’s intoxicating, the level of vice in the air. The bankers greedily trading money over craps tables, the men drooling over the young women who won’t give them the time of day, the absolute sloth of shirking away a whole weekend to drink and party.

Crowley could get used to this.

She winds through the dancers, wanting to scope out a better view of the party from the mezzanine. Someone rushes past her, a hint of suggestion on the air. A hint of heavenly suggestion, to be exact, carried on the unmistakable scent of Earl Grey and book dust. She spins around, looking for the source; searching out a tuft of blond curls or an outdated coat, a glance of hazel eyes, tinted with gold at the edges. But there’s no sign of Aziraphale. Probably for the best, given their last interaction.

Crowley continues to sway to the heavy beat of the jazz music, slithering through the crowd towards the staircase. Winding past the governors and the movie stars; the tennis players and the waitstaff. Crowley has always loved a good shindig, and this is no exception. She flashes her brightest smile at a group of politicians as she reaches the large and ornate staircase.

When her heel clicks on the first marble step, the world stops moving.

Above her, turning slowly to look down from on high, is Aziraphale. She’s in a gorgeous deep green floor-length dress, gold embroidery like ribbons trailing down the front. It catches the chandelier light and glitters like emeralds and diamonds. Her hair is in pin curls, pressed close to her forehead and temples. She’s done it with soap, the way the humans do, not a miracle. It’s topped with a brilliant sparkling gold headband nestled just above. Her eyes are lined darkly, making the hazel all the brighter for the contrast. As she turns to Crowley, she smiles.

[ Read it on AO3 ]

#good omens #ineffable wives #aziraphale #crowley #angst this time #photo #link #my fic

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path-of-my-childhood · 5 years

Text

Taylor Swift: ‘I was literally about to break’

By: Laura Snapes for The Guardian Date: August 24th 2019

Taylor Swift’s Nashville apartment is an Etsy fever dream, a 365-days-a-year Christmas shop, pure teenage girl id. You enter through a vestibule clad in blue velvet and covered in gilt frames bursting with fake flowers. The ceiling is painted like the night sky. Above a koi pond in the living area, a narrow staircase spirals six feet up towards a giant, pillow-lagged birdcage that probably has the best view in the city. Later, Swift will tell me she needs metaphors “to understand anything that happens to me”, and the birdcage defies you not to interpret it as a pointed comment on the contradictions of stardom.

Swift, wearing pale jeans and dip-dyed shirt, her sandy hair tied in a blue scrunchie, leads the way up the staircase to show me the view. The decor hasn’t changed since she bought this place in 2009, when she was 19. “All of these high rises are new since then,” she says, gesturing at the squat glass structures and cranes. Meanwhile her oven is still covered in stickers, more teenage diary than adult appliance.

Now 29, she has spent much of the past three years living quietly in London with her boyfriend, actor Joe Alwyn, making the penthouse a kind of time capsule, a monument to youthful naivety given an unlimited budget – the years when she sang about Romeo and Juliet and wore ballgowns to awards shows; before she moved to New York and honed her slick, self-mythologising pop.

It is mid-August. This is Swift’s first UK interview in more than three years, and she seems nervous: neither presidential nor goofy (her usual defaults), but quick with a tongue-out “ugh” of regret or frustration as she picks at her glittery purple nails. We climb down from the birdcage to sit by the pond, and when the conversation turns to 2016, the year the wheels came off for her, Swift stiffens as if driving over a mile of speed bumps. After a series of bruising public spats (with Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj) in 2015, there was a high-profile standoff with Kanye West. The news that she was in a relationship with actor Tom Hiddleston, which leaked soon after, was widely dismissed as a diversionary tactic. Meanwhile, Swift went to court to prosecute a sexual assault claim, and faced a furious backlash when she failed to endorse a candidate in the 2016 presidential election, allowing the alt-right to adopt her as their “Aryan princess”.

Her critics assumed she cared only about the bottom line. The reality, Swift says, is that she was totally broken. “Every domino fell,” she says bitterly. “It became really terrifying for anyone to even know where I was. And I felt completely incapable of doing or saying anything publicly, at all. Even about my music. I always said I wouldn’t talk about what was happening personally, because that was a personal time.” She won’t get into specifics. “I just need some things that are mine,” she despairs. “Just some things.”

A year later, in 2017, Swift released her album Reputation, half high-camp heel turn, drawing on hip-hop and vaudeville (the brilliantly hammy Look What You Made Me Do), half stunned appreciation that her nascent relationship with Alwyn had weathered the storm (the soft, sensual pop of songs Delicate and Dress).

Her new album, Lover, her seventh, was released yesterday. It’s much lighter than Reputation: Swift likens writing it to feeling like “I could take a full deep breath again”. Much of it is about Alwyn: the Galway Girl-ish track London Boy lists their favourite city haunts and her newfound appreciation of watching rugby in the pub with his uni mates; on the ruminative Afterglow, she asks him to forgive her anxious tendency to assume the worst.

While she has always written about relationships, they were either teenage fantasy or a postmortem on a high-profile breakup, with exes such as Jake Gyllenhaal and Harry Styles. But she and Alwyn have seldom been pictured together, and their relationship is the only other thing she won’t talk about. “I’ve learned that if I do, people think it’s up for discussion, and our relationship isn’t up for discussion,” she says, laughing after I attempt a stealthy angle. “If you and I were having a glass of wine right now, we’d be talking about it – but it’s just that it goes out into the world. That’s where the boundary is, and that’s where my life has become manageable. I really want to keep it feeling manageable.”

Instead, she has swapped personal disclosure for activism. Last August, Swift broke her political silence to endorse Democratic Tennessee candidate Phil Bredesen in the November 2018 senate race. Vote.org reported an unprecedented spike in voting registration after Swift’s Instagram post, while Donald Trump responded that he liked her music “about 25% less now”.

Meanwhile, her recent single You Need To Calm Down admonished homophobes and namechecked US LGBTQ rights organisation Glaad (which then saw increased donations). Swift filled her video with cameos from queer stars such as Ellen DeGeneres and Queen singer Adam Lambert, and capped it with a call to sign her petition in support of the Equality Act, which if passed would prohibit gender- and sexuality-based discrimination in the US. A video of Polish LGBTQ fans miming the track in defiance of their government’s homophobic agenda went viral. But Swift was accused of “queerbaiting” and bandwagon-jumping. You can see how she might find it hard to work out what, exactly, people want from her.

***

It was girlhood that made Swift a multimillionaire. When country music’s gatekeepers swore that housewives were the only women interested in the genre, she proved them wrong. Her self-titled debut marked the longest stay on the Billboard 200 by any album released in the decade. A potentially cloying image – corkscrew curls, lyrics thick on “daddy” and down-home values – were undercut by the fact she was evidently, endearingly, a bit of a freak, an unusual combination of intensity and artlessness. Also, she was really, really good at what she did, and not just for a teenager: her entirely self-written third album, 2010’s Speak Now, is unmatched in its devastatingly withering dismissals of awful men.

As a teenager, Swift was obsessed with VH1’s Behind The Music, the series devoted to the rise and fall of great musicians. She would forensically rewatch episodes, trying to pinpoint the moment a career went wrong. I ask her to imagine she’s watching the episode about herself and do the same thing: where was her misstep? “Oh my God,” she says, drawing a deep breath and letting her lips vibrate as she exhales. “I mean, that’s so depressing!” She thinks back and tries to deflect. “What I remember is that [the show] was always like, ‘Then we started fighting in the tour bus and then the drummer quit and the guitarist was like, “You’re not paying me enough.”’’’

But that’s not what she used to say. In interviews into her early 20s, Swift often observed that an artist fails when they lose their self-awareness, as if repeating the fact would work like an insurance against succumbing to the same fate. But did she make that mistake herself? She squeezes her nose and blows to clear a ringing in her ears before answering. “I definitely think that sometimes you don’t realise how you’re being perceived,” she says. “Pop music can feel like it’s The Hunger Games, and like we’re gladiators. And you can really lose focus of the fact that that’s how it feels because that’s how a lot of stan [fan] Twitter and tabloids and blogs make it seem – the overanalysing of everything makes it feel really intense.”

She describes the way she burned bridges in 2016 as a kind of obliviousness. “I didn’t realise it was like a classic overthrow of someone in power – where you didn’t realise the whispers behind your back, you didn’t realise the chain reaction of events that was going to make everything fall apart at the exact, perfect time for it to fall apart.”

Here’s that chain reaction in full. With her 2014 album 1989 (the year she was born), Swift transcended country stardom, becoming as ubiquitous as Beyoncé. For the first time she vocally embraced feminism, something she had rejected in her teens; but, after a while, it seemed to amount to not much more than a lot of pictures of her hanging out with her “squad”, a bevy of supermodels, musicians and Lena Dunham. The squad very much did not include her former friend Katy Perry, whom Swift targeted in her song Bad Blood, as part of what seemed like a painfully overblown dispute about some backing dancers. Then, when Nicki Minaj tweeted that MTV’s 2015 Video Music awards had rewarded white women at the expense of women of colour, multiple-nominee Swift took it personally, responding: “Maybe one of the men took your slot.” For someone prone to talking about the haters, she quickly became her own worst enemy.

Her old adversary Kanye West resurfaced in February 2016. In 2009, West had invaded Swift’s stage at the MTV VMAs to protest against her victory over Beyoncé in the female video of the year category. It remains the peak of interest in Swift on Google Trends, and the conflict between them has become such a cornerstone of celebrity journalism that it’s hard to remember it lay dormant for nearly seven years – until West released his song Famous. “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex,” he rapped. “Why? I made that bitch famous.” The video depicted a Swift mannequin naked in bed with men including Trump.

Swift loudly condemned both; although she had discussed the track with West, she said she had never agreed to the “bitch” lyric or the video. West’s wife, Kim Kardashian, released a heavily edited clip that showed Swift at least agreeing to the “sex” line on the phone with West, if not the “bitch” part. Swift pleaded the technicality, but it made no difference: when Kardashian went on Twitter to describe her as a snake, the comparison stuck and the singer found herself very publicly “cancelled” – the incident taken as “proof” of Swift’s insincerity. So she went away.

Swift says she stopped trying to explain herself, even though she “definitely” could have. As she worked on Reputation, she was also writing “a think-piece a day that I knew I would never publish: the stuff I would say, and the different facets of the situation that nobody knew”. If she could exonerate herself, why didn’t she? She leans forward. “Here’s why,” she says conspiratorially. “Because when people are in a hate frenzy and they find something to mutually hate together, it bonds them. And anything you say is in an echo chamber of mockery.”

She compares that year to being hit by a tidal wave. “You can either stand there and let the wave crash into you, and you can try as hard as you can to fight something that’s more powerful and bigger than you,” she says. “Or you can dive under the water, hold your breath, wait for it to pass and while you’re down there, try to learn something. Why was I in that part of the ocean? There were clearly signs that said: Rip tide! Undertow! Don’t swim! There are no lifeguards!” She’s on a roll. “Why was I there? Why was I trusting people I trusted? Why was I letting people into my life the way I was letting them in? What was I doing that caused this?”

After the incident with Minaj, her critics started pointing out a narrative of “white victimhood” in Swift’s career. Speaking slowly and carefully, she says she came to understand “a lot about how my privilege allowed me to not have to learn about white privilege. I didn’t know about it as a kid, and that is privilege itself, you know? And that’s something that I’m still trying to educate myself on every day. How can I see where people are coming from, and understand the pain that comes with the history of our world?”

She also accepts some responsibility for her overexposure, and for some of the tabloid drama. If she didn’t wish a friend happy birthday on Instagram, there would be reports about severed friendships, even if they had celebrated together. “Because we didn’t post about it, it didn’t happen – and I realised I had done that,” she says. “I created an expectation that everything in my life that happened, people would see.”

But she also says she couldn’t win. “I’m kinda used to being gaslit by now,” she drawls wearily. “And I think it happens to women so often that, as we get older and see how the world works, we’re able to see through what is gaslighting. So I’m able to look at 1989 and go – KITTIES!” She breaks off as an assistant walks in with Swift’s three beloved cats, stars of her Instagram feed, back from the vet before they fly to England this week. Benjamin, Olivia and Meredith haughtily circle our feet (they are scared of the koi) as Swift resumes her train of thought, back to the release of 1989 and the subsequent fallout. “Oh my God, they were mad at me for smiling a lot and quote-unquote acting fake. And then they were mad at me that I was upset and bitter and kicking back.” The rules kept changing.

***

Swift’s new album comes with printed excerpts from her diaries. On 29 August 2016, she wrote in her girlish, bubble writing: “This summer is the apocalypse.” As the incident with West and Kardashian unfolded, she was preparing for her court case against radio DJ David Mueller, who was fired in 2013 after Swift reported him for putting his hand up her dress at a meet-and–greet event. He sued her for defamation; she countersued for sexual assault.

“Having dealt with a few of them, narcissists basically subscribe to a belief system that they should be able to do and say whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want to,” Swift says now, talking at full pelt. “And if we – as anyone else in the world, but specifically women – react to that, well, we’re not allowed to. We’re not allowed to have a reaction to their actions.”

In summer 2016 she was in legal depositions, practising her testimony. “You’re supposed to be really polite to everyone,” she says. But by the time she got to court in August 2017, “something snapped, I think”. She laughs. Her testimony was sharp and uncompromising. She refused to allow Mueller’s lawyers to blame her or her security guards; when asked if she could see the incident, Swift said no, because “my ass is in the back of my body”. It was a brilliant, rude defence.

“You’re supposed to behave yourself in court and say ‘rear end’,” she says with mock politesse. “The other lawyer was saying, ‘When did he touch your backside?’ And I was like, ‘ASS! Call it what it is!’” She claps between each word. But despite the acclaim for her testimony and eventual victory (she asked for one symbolic dollar), she still felt belittled. It was two months prior to the beginning of the #MeToo movement. “Even this case was literally twisted so hard that people were calling it the ‘butt-grab case’. They were saying I sued him because there’s this narrative that I want to sue everyone. That was one of the reasons why the summer was the apocalypse.”

She never wanted the assault to be made public. Have there been other instances she has dealt with privately? “Actually, no,” she says soberly. “I’m really lucky that it hadn’t happened to me before. But that was one of the reasons it was so traumatising. I just didn’t know that could happen. It was really brazen, in front of seven people.” She has since had security cameras installed at every meet-and-greet she does, deliberately pointed at her lower half. “If something happens again, we can prove it with video footage from every angle,” she says.

The allegations about Harvey Weinstein came out soon after she won her case. The film producer had asked her to write a song for the romantic comedy One Chance, which earned her second Golden Globe nomination. Weinstein also got her a supporting role in the 2014 sci-fi movie The Giver, and attended the launch party for 1989. But she says they were never alone together.

“He’d call my management and be like, ‘Does she have a song for this film?’ And I’d be like, ‘Here it is,’” she says dispassionately. “And then I’d be at the Golden Globes. I absolutely never hung out. And I would get a vibe – I would never vouch for him. I believe women who come forward, I believe victims who come forward, I believe men who come forward.” Swift inhales, flustered. She says Weinstein never propositioned her. “If you listen to the stories, he picked people who were vulnerable, in his opinion. It seemed like it was a power thing. So, to me, that doesn’t say anything – that I wasn’t in that situation.”

Meanwhile, Donald Trump was more than nine months into his presidency, and still Swift had not taken a position. But the idea that a pop star could ever have impeded his path to the White House seemed increasingly naive. In hindsight, the demand that Swift speak up looks less about politics and more about her identity (white, rich, powerful) and a moralistic need for her to redeem herself – as if nobody else had ever acted on a vindictive instinct, or blundered publicly.

But she resisted what might have been an easy return to public favour. Although Reputation contained softer love songs, it was better known for its brittle, vengeful side (see This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things). She describes that side of the album now as a “bit of a persona”, and its hip-hop-influenced production as “a complete defence mechanism”. Personally, I thought she had never been more relatable, trashing the contract of pious relatability that traps young women in the public eye.

***

It was the assault trial, and watching the rights of LGBTQ friends be eroded, that finally politicised her, Swift says. “The things that happen to you in your life are what develop your political opinions. I was living in this Obama eight-year paradise of, you go, you cast your vote, the person you vote for wins, everyone’s happy!” she says. “This whole thing, the last three, four years, it completely blindsided a lot of us, me included.”

She recently said she was “dismayed” when a friend pointed out that her position on gay rights wasn’t obvious (what if she had a gay son, he asked), hence this summer’s course correction with the single You Need To Calm Down (“You’re comin’ at my friends like a missile/Why are you mad?/When you could be GLAAD?”). Didn’t she feel equally dismayed that her politics weren’t clear? “I did,” she insists, “and I hate to admit this, but I felt that I wasn’t educated enough on it. Because I hadn’t actively tried to learn about politics in a way that I felt was necessary for me, making statements that go out to hundreds of millions of people.”

She explains her inner conflict. “I come from country music. The number one thing they absolutely drill into you as a country artist, and you can ask any other country artist this, is ‘Don’t be like the Dixie Chicks!’” In 2003, the Texan country trio denounced the Iraq war, saying they were “ashamed” to share a home state with George W Bush. There was a boycott, and an event where a bulldozer crushed their CDs. “I watched country music snuff that candle out. The most amazing group we had, just because they talked about politics. And they were getting death threats. They were made such an example that basically every country artist that came after that, every label tells you, ‘Just do not get involved, no matter what.’

“And then, you know, if there was a time for me to get involved…” Swift pauses. “The worst part of the timing of what happened in 2016 was I felt completely voiceless. I just felt like, oh God, who would want me? Honestly.” She would otherwise have endorsed Hillary Clinton? “Of course,” she says sincerely. “I just felt completely, ugh, just useless. And maybe even like a hindrance.”

I suggest that, thinking selfishly, her coming out for Clinton might have made people like her. “I wasn’t thinking like that,” she stresses. “I was just trying to protect my mental health – not read the news very much, go cast my vote, tell people to vote. I just knew what I could handle and I knew what I couldn’t. I was literally about to break. For a while.” Did she seek therapy? “That stuff I just really wanna keep personal, if that’s OK,” she says.

She resists blaming anyone else for her political silence. Her emergence as a Democrat came after she left Big Machine, the label she signed to at 15. (They are now at loggerheads after label head Scott Borchetta sold the company, and the rights to Swift’s first six albums, to Kanye West’s manager, Scooter Braun.) Had Borchetta ever advised her against speaking out? She exhales. “It was just me and my life, and also doing a lot of self-reflection about how I did feel really remorseful for not saying anything. I wanted to try and help in any way that I could, the next time I got a chance. I didn’t help, I didn’t feel capable of it – and as soon as I can, I’m going to.”

Swift was once known for throwing extravagant 4 July parties at her Rhode Island mansion. The Instagram posts from these star-studded events – at which guests wore matching stars-and-stripes bikinis and onesies – probably supported a significant chunk of the celebrity news industry GDP. But in 2017, they stopped. “The horror!” wrote Cosmopolitan, citing “reasons that remain a mystery” for their disappearance. It wasn’t “squad” strife or the unavailability of matching cozzies that brought the parties to an end, but Swift’s disillusionment with her country, she says.

There is a smart song about this on the new album – the track that should have been the first single, instead of the cartoonish ME!. Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince is a forlorn, gothic ballad in the vein of Lana Del Rey that uses high-school imagery to dismantle American nationalism: “The whole school is rolling fake dice/You play stupid games/You win stupid prizes,” she sings with disdain. “Boys will be boys then/Where are the wise men?”

As an ambitious 11-year-old, she worked out that singing the national anthem at sports games was the quickest way to get in front of a large audience. When did she start feeling conflicted about what America stands for? She gives another emphatic ugh. “It was the fact that all the dirtiest tricks in the book were used and it worked,” she says. “The thing I can’t get over right now is gaslighting the American public into being like” – she adopts a sanctimonious tone – “‘If you hate the president, you hate America.’ We’re a democracy – at least, we’re supposed to be – where you’re allowed to disagree, dissent, debate.” She doesn’t use Trump’s name. “I really think that he thinks this is an autocracy.”

As we speak, Tennessee lawmakers are trying to impose a near-total ban on abortion. Swift has staunchly defended her “Tennessee values” in recent months. What’s her position? “I mean, obviously, I’m pro-choice, and I just can’t believe this is happening,” she says. She looks close to tears. “I can’t believe we’re here. It’s really shocking and awful. And I just wanna do everything I can for 2020. I wanna figure out exactly how I can help, what are the most effective ways to help. ’Cause this is just…” She sighs again. “This is not it.”

***

It is easy to forget that the point of all this is that a teenage Taylor Swiftwanted to write love songs. Nemeses and negativity are now so entrenched in her public persona that it’s hard to know how she can get back to that, though she seems to want to. At the end of Daylight, the new album’s dreamy final song, there’s a spoken-word section: “I want to be defined by the things that I love,” she says as the music fades. “Not the things that I hate, not the things I’m afraid of, the things that haunt me in the middle of the night.” As well as the songs written for Alwyn, there is one for her mother, who recently experienced a cancer relapse: “You make the best of a bad deal/I just pretend it isn’t real,” Swift sings, backed by the Dixie Chicks.

How does writing about her personal life work if she’s setting clearer boundaries? “It actually made me feel more free,” she says. “I’ve always had this habit of never really going into detail about exactly what situation inspired what thing, but even more so now.” This is only half true: in the past, Swift wasn’t shy of a level of detail that invited fans to figure out specific truths about her relationships. And when I tell her that Lover feels a more emotionally guarded album, she bristles. “I know the difference between making art and living your life like a reality star,” she says. “And then even if it’s hard for other people to grasp, my definition is really clear.”

Even so, Swift begins Lover by addressing an adversary, opening with a song called I Forgot That You Existed (“it isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference”), presumably aimed at Kanye West, a track that slightly defeats its premise by existing. But it sweeps aside old dramas to confront Swift’s real nemesis, herself. “I never grew up/It’s getting so old,” she laments on The Archer.

She has had to learn not to pre-empt disaster, nor to run from it. Her life has been defined by relationships, friendships and business relationships that started and ended very publicly (though she and Perry are friends again). At the same time, the rules around celebrity engagement have evolved beyond recognition in her 15 years of fame. Rather than trying to adapt to them, she’s now asking herself: “How do you learn to maintain? How do you learn not to have these phantom disasters in your head that you play out, and how do you stop yourself from sabotage – because the panic mechanism in your brain is telling you that something must go wrong.” For her, this is what growing up is. “You can’t just make cut-and-dry decisions in life. A lot of things are a negotiation and a grey area and a dance of how to figure it out.”

And so this time, Swift is sticking around. In December she will turn 30, marking the point after which more than half her life will have been lived in public. She’ll start her new decade with a stronger self-preservationist streak, and a looser grip (as well as a cameo in Cats). “You can’t micromanage life, it turns out,” she says, drily.

When Swift finally answered my question about the moment she would choose in the VH1 Behind The Music episode about herself, the one where her career turned, she said she hoped it wouldn’t focus on her “apocalypse” summer of 2016. “Maybe this is wishful thinking,” she said, “but I’d like to think it would be in a couple of years.” It’s funny to hear her hope that the worst is still to come while sitting in her fairytale living room, the cats pacing: a pragmatist at odds with her romantic monument to teenage dreams. But it sounds something like perspective.

#taylor swift #interview #by taylor #the guardian #lover era #lover album #not sure how I feel about the interviewer's approach...there's a lot of irony in it #but a fun read for us nonetheless

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