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erinkeifer · 1 year

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ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕞𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕕𝕖

[Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Fem Reader]

Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 Not My Code Masterlist

Summary: For several years, you've been Anakin Skywalker's Padawan. Even though you're afraid to admit it, you've burned out. You have no intention of adhering to the Jedi code any longer, and fighting for the Republic has ceased to be your sole purpose in life. However, your knighthood is approaching soon, but before that happens, you must undergo one final training session alongside your master. Why won't you complete it?

Author Note: I wouldn't technically call it pure 'smut' but due to nudity and sexual tension, I would classify my text as suitable for readers aged 18+. I apologize for any inconvenience!

Word Count: 4,2k

This isn't the first time something inside you has started to crack before entering the training room. The closer the knighting ceremony approached, the more your thoughts turned away from the Order. Obi-Wan's lectures no longer resonated with you – though you hold him in the highest regard, you no longer see value in the moralizing lessons about what Jedi can and cannot do.

For some time now, he no longer stops you in the corridor to share his guidance repeatedly, believing that since he handed you over to Anakin, you would become more disciplined and loyal to the Order.

Well... it's quite the opposite.

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Today's training was a torment - not because Anakin demanded too much, and not because you were resistant to the activities. This time, Anakin's mind was completely elsewhere, and there were moments when he wasn't even paying attention to what you were doing. The lack of instructions left you unsure of what to do, and the minutes of exercises stretched out like hours.

At this time, the contours of the training room were illuminated only by the view of the nighttime Coruscant and the blue glow of your lightsaber. You practiced old, familiar combat forms while Anakin stood with his back turned to you, gazing pensively at the view beyond the mighty glass window.

For you, it was supposed to be training as usual, and you stuck to that. You wanted to impress your Master as much as possible, and despite the lack of guidance, you operated at full throttle. However, even increasing your performance didn't allow you to focus when your thoughts drifted to Anakin.

There was a cloud of tension over him, so thick that you could hardly recognize him. And even though you knew that he had experienced some rough days since his divorce from Padme, today you sensed something entirely different.

"Focus," Anakin mumbled, standing with his arms crossed behind his back, his gaze fixed on the cityscape.

In moments like these, you always cursed your ability to read each other's emotions. You chose to remain silent in response to his words and continued your improvised training as if nothing had happened. At least for a while.

"Master?" You paused, trying to get his attention.

"Master, do you even know what I'm doing right now?" You added, deactivating your lightsaber.

Anakin didn't react to your words, which filled you with even greater concern. Was it your fault? Did you mess something up? Did you disappoint him? Negative thoughts swirled in your head so intensely that you didn't even notice when you first addressed him by his name.

"Anakin? What's going on?"

Hearing his name, he almost immediately turned towards you, remaining silent for the first few moments.

"Please, go back to your training," he uttered after a brief silence, causing even more doubts within you.

"No..." You replied after a while, gathering your thoughts to justify your actions.

"So we have nothing to talk about." Anakin interrupted, turning back towards the window.

"I can't even remember the last time we had a normal conversation... Master, I'm just worried," you said, gently grabbing Anakin's arm.

"Worried? About what?" he muttered, not even looking at your anxious face.

"About you. You're... different. Lately, we can't even work together... communicate..." you replied in an emotional tone, receiving only silence in return.

"I know the past few months haven't been kind to you... the divorce from Padme was tr..."

"Don't say that name," Anakin impulsively interrupted, turning towards you and removing your hand from his arm.

His tone abruptly turned rough and commanding, and the gesture he made instinctively made you take a step back.

"I'm sorry, Master, I didn't mean to..."

"So, tell me what you meant," Anakin cut you off once again, and you felt the boundary you were trying to establish in your communication with your Master shatter.

"Whatever is happening, good or not, I want to know... I want to know if I might be the problem here by any chance. Am I making a mistake? Am I getting on your nerves?" The longer you spoke, the more anxious your tone became.

"You shouldn't care about that. Our path is coming to an end soon, and ahead of you lies a new one that you'll traverse on your own... unless your conflict dictates otherwise," Anakin replied with a serious tone, this time not averting his gaze from you.

Hearing about the conflict sent shivers down your spine. Did Obi-Wan tell him about your doubts? Or, worse, does he know about your stance towards the Order?

"Conflict? W-what do you mean?" you stammered, feeling the stress engulfing you more and more.

"Let's be serious. I didn't need anyone to convey your doubts to me... I know that this training means little to you," Anakin explained in a calmer tone.

"It's not like that... I've always been committed..."

"Believe me, you have no reason to give up. Leaving the Order at this stage is not a good choice, especially for..."

"Master, please stop," you interrupted Anakin, feeling like you had nothing left to lose. He had seen through you completely. You no longer cared whether he found out on his own or through someone else.

"I have a reason for it," you replied with a trembling voice, trying to gradually focus all of Anakin's attention on yourself.

"What reason?" he asked with a voice full of doubt.

"It's about you, Master," you continued, not believing you had spoken those words.

"I'm sorry, but..." You felt yourself slowly falling apart. Anakin stood before you in complete confusion, and you seized the moment. You stood on tiptoe to reach his face, and your lips collided. The kiss you gave him was so intense that it would have sufficed if it were never to happen again. At least that was the intention, because the reality was entirely different - no longer, deeper, more intense kiss would satisfy you enough to leave this room fulfilled.

Anakin broke the kiss, not believing what had just happened. As soon as your gazes returned to each other – his, full of confusion, and yours, filled with guilt and shame – Anakin distanced himself and had no idea what to do with himself. He nervously glanced around the room.

"Go back to your quarters. Training is over," he replied in a cold, trembling tone, and you did as he commanded.

Tears welled up in your eyes even before leaving the training room. It felt like your end – the official end with the Jedi and the end of a certain chapter in your life, which, despite everything, had seemed to be the most beautiful.

The doors slammed shut behind you with a bang, and as soon as you found yourself in the corridor, you began to run. You sobbed, knowing that at this time, no one should be wandering down this path, even though you knew it was not a place where you could afford to release your emotions.

Without the strength to use the Force, you opened the door to your room with a code and impulsively slammed it shut behind you. As soon as you removed the belt with your lightsaber and tossed it aside, you threw yourself onto your bed, burying your head in the pillow, trying to scream and cry out all your emotions and the indescribable pain inside you.

It was a moment when you felt as if you were awaiting execution rather than preparing for sleep. The pain consumed you from within to the point that you might have understood for the first time why Jedi couldn't have attachments.

A dead silence filled the room, against which your sobbing became even more piercing. You wished you could escape from the temple – you just wanted to run away and leave Coruscant without a trace, but you knew it was impossible.

At that moment, you felt someone's presence. The door to your room slowly opened, even though you had made sure to lock it.

Anakin.

You felt as if your heart had stopped, and only the darkest thoughts filled your mind. You were certain he had come to reprimand you, perhaps take away your lightsaber, or even expel you from the temple. Drenched in tears, turned away from your master, you waited as if for a judgment.

"Master, I... I'm so sorry... I swear, I..." you stammered with a trembling voice, feeling Anakin's gaze on your back as he stood in the doorway.

"Never do this again," Anakin interrupted in a stern voice. As he spoke those words, you sat on the bed motionless, lacking the courage to turn and look at him.

Soon, you shuddered at the sound of the door closing. Although at first, you were certain your master had left the room, you realized that what you had heard was the sound of the lock being turned from the inside.

"Not where the surveillance can see us," he added after a moment, slowly making his way toward you.

It was a moment when you froze. Not knowing what to do, you nervously got off the bed, still avoiding eye contact with Anakin.

"Don't," Anakin said, noticing that you were about to turn toward him.

You stood there, trembling, your back still turned to your master, not knowing what he meant. You felt vulnerable, and though the fear still lingered within you, this time you sensed that the kind of tension that had built up around Anakin was entirely different from what you had experienced before.

He sensed you better than you sensed him. He felt every flicker of your fear, felt your sadness, and the tension you had laid out before him like a platter. His steps sent shivers down your spine, but you no longer heard them. He stood right behind you, mere millimeters from your back.

His right mechanical hand, clad in a black leather glove, landed on your waist. Your cutout white jumpsuit exposed your bare skin there, so you instantly felt the chill of his touch.

"Don't be afraid of me," he whispered into your ear after a moment, causing you to feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

Your body was completely paralyzed under his touch – you stood still, nervously swallowing saliva as you looked at your reflections in the glass tiles on the wall in front of where you both stood.

"I- I'm not." you whispered so softly that as soon as Anakin realized you were trying to speak, he leaned down lower to understand what you meant.

"I feel something else." Anakin replied, bringing his face close to yours to the point where you could feel the touch of his heated cheek. You had never been this close to him, and his scent, which reminded you of a combination of leather and saffron, was intoxicating.

You closed your eyes, and soon you felt his lips on your neck – it was a moment when you felt as if an electric current had passed through you, so intense that you didn't even notice when his left, uncovered hand landed on the other side of your waist.

This time, the touch of his hand felt much more passionate to you – and it was hardly surprising because at this moment, he felt your body with his own skin, not touch sensors.

You shivered slightly when you suddenly felt him bite the soft skin on your neck, and you instinctively entwined your fingers in his messy, wavy hair, gently massaging it at the roots. As he felt the touch of your hand, he sucked on your skin even harder than before, leaving purple bruises one after another.

You had the feeling that it was a dream. You couldn't believe what was happening, but second by second, it was sinking in that every movement was happening here and now. It wasn't a dream, and everything you felt was real and intense – you also knew that you wanted to give the same to Anakin.

You wanted to give him pleasure, and in some way... you had known it for a long time.

Gently, you raised his left hand to your face, which had been attached to your body until now, and started kissing it – the longer you did it, the more passion you put into it. Anakin lifted his lips from your neck to watch your movements through your arm.

You tried to satisfy his gaze to the point that you didn't even notice when his fingers traveled to your mouth. At this moment, the tension that buzzed within him was gradually approaching a very dangerous limit - you felt it as intensely as never before.

You finally wanted to look into his eyes and see something more than just the corner of his face, so you gently lowered his hand, moist from your kisses, to turn around and face your Master. Anakin realized your intention faster than you expected - without saying anything, he grabbed you by your waist with such force that you instinctively clenched your teeth - he didn't allow you to change your position.

"Master, I just..." you began nervously, but quickly stopped when you felt Anakin's hand on your face.

"Shhh... I know." he whispered, his face very close to yours, and expecting your obedience, he removed his hand from your face.

You stood still for a moment, only to suddenly feel Anakin tearing apart the upper part of your jumpsuit with both of his hands. The material was elastic and snug against your body, but thin enough that he ripped it into pieces with surprising ease.

At that moment, Anakin spun you around to have you face him. You felt like your legs were giving way beneath you at the sight of his heated expression. You could swear there was something wild in his demeanor—his eyes seemed darker than usual, and his pupils pulsed, scanning every detail of your face.

"Now, say what you wanted to say," Anakin whispered, gazing into your eyes, which were still swollen from your earlier tears.

You didn't intend to cry anymore, at least not out of despair... Only out of pleasure.

"Nothing. Just... continue," you murmured timidly, glancing with flushed cheeks at the torn neckline of your outfit as it hung down.

"Good girl," he whispered under his breath, slowly bringing his face closer to yours.

You closed your eyes as Anakin began to kiss the spots on your cheeks where the traces of your earlier tears had run. Although you could feel the tension simmering within him, he did it incredibly gently, tracing sweet kisses along a smooth path until he reached your lips.

You expected this to be the point where the gentleness would end – and you were absolutely right. You let him take the lead in this situation – your lips were practically motionless, and your mouth slightly parted as he passionately and slowly sucked on them. After a moment, you took action yourself, exploring his firm lips enough to taste them and never forget their flavor.

Your kisses became messy and aggressive, and through half-closed eyelids, you watched as his lips and cheeks reddened. Soon, you felt him grab your torn jumpsuit's jagged collar with his hands, and with a determined motion, he slid it down. You sensed his deep breath on your breasts when he realized you weren't wearing any underwear, and his pupils dilated, exploring your bare chest amidst the shreds of white fabric.

After a moment of scanning your body with his gaze, his exposed hand found its way to your chest. Immersing yourself in his passionate touch, you intertwined your fingers with his hand anchored to your body, feeling the smooth skin beneath your fingertips and your own exposed form.

"What do you feel?" Anakin whispered, but you didn't hear his words when he kept his lips at your collarbone.

"Hm?" you murmured, inquiringly, making eye contact with him.

"Tell me. What do you feel?" You had always loved his voice, but hearing it in this situation, when his tone was strong and hungry, made your heart race steadily.

"I don't know how to... Uh... It's just..." you mumbled, hesitating to confess how strong the desire you were feeling was. Instead, you pressed his hands against your bare chest and closed your eyes, allowing him to sense your emotions through the Force.

"No," Anakin said firmly, sliding his hands down to your waist.

"I can feel you perfectly. I feel everything, but I want to hear it," he added, gazing deeply into your eyes.

You were a transparent mirror of your emotions for him, and nothing could hide from him. He knew it, and you knew it, and you had never felt more exposed to anyone.

"I... I feel... Anakin... I want you," you forced out, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

After your words, the tension in him increased, and his hands tightened on your skin.

"Prove it," he whispered after a moment, releasing his hands from your body, as if giving you free rein.

Even though you were determined to prove it to him at all costs, you didn't know where to start.

Anakin stood before you in his black robes, which you were eager to start removing, but you had no idea how to proceed. Without further calculation, you entwined your hands in his hair and began kissing his neck – initially gently and sensually, but soon you did it greedily, in sync with his accelerating heartbeat.

You nibbled and sucked on his skin, and his accelerated breaths urged you to continue. Your tongue traced along the line of his jaw, and one of your hands clenched on his robed chest.

You felt shivers hearing the soft, intermittent moans he emitted as you caressed his skin, and your inhibition gradually faded, so you wondered what your next move would be.

"Enough," he uttered in a stern and gruff tone.

You were shocked by what he said, but he didn't allow you to dwell on it any longer. He grabbed you with both strong hands and pushed you back, causing you to land on your bed. You lay on your back and observed his movements as he took a few steps to stand over you, wearing the most arrogant of smirks.

You froze as you noticed Anakin beginning to unbuckle his belt, all the while not breaking eye contact with you. Biting your lip, you observed his every move, and as he discarded the first layer of his robes, you began to slide down the lower part of your jumpsuit.

"Let me..." Anakin interrupted your actions as he saw what you were getting at and raised his mechanical hand towards your waist.

With a single, confident motion, Anakin slid the lower part of your jumpsuit down and removed the tall boots fastened to them, leaving you in just your panties. You felt excitement coursing through him as he watched you in such a state, and as you suspected, he couldn't wait any longer.

He lunged towards you, eager to be on top, and you both immediately engaged in a fervent kiss, touching each other's bodies as if time were running out.

In the midst of your passionate touches, you felt your hips collide, and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind raced as you felt Anakin's pulsating rhythm as he rubbed his hips against the most sensitive parts of your body, gradually picking up the pace, knowing he was pushing you to the edge of endurance.

"Anakin... Please." you whispered straight into his moist lips, after which his face lifted to look you directly in the eyes.

"Please what?" he replied with a hungry tone, expecting you to elaborate.

"I... I want..." you began to mumble.

"Words. I need your words." he whispered, maneuvering his hand around your lower abdomen.

"Fuck." you muttered under your breath, feeling how his touch electrified your entire body.

"Do you want this? Do you want me to fuck you?" he continued in a hoarse, desire-filled voice.

"Yes... Yes, please," you squeezed out, impulsively reaching for his belt, which, though unfastened, was still in place.

"Say it. Tell me what you want me to do to you." he commanded, holding your hand against his belt.

"I want you to fuck me," you responded with a breathless voice and, finally, a hint of self-assurance.

"That's what I meant," he whispered with a slight, teasing smirk, then quickly pushed the belt aside to pull his clothes down from the waist up.

With butterflies in your stomach, you admired his impressive, naturally sculpted chest as he knelt on the bed between your legs, which you soon spread a bit wider to make more room for him. Anakin knelt, scanning every inch of your body with his eyes, but he knew that one more element was missing to complete the picture.

His hand smoothly moved up your thigh and landed on your panties, where it lingered for a while. You moaned when his fingers began to massage you through the thin fabric, but for some reason, you held back from making louder sounds, which Anakin noticed.

"The walls are soundproofed. You can scream as loud as you need to... The louder, the better," he reassured you, seeing how nervously you glanced around the room, and you nodded.

After a moment of teasing you through your clothes, Anakin reached for his pants, but after some consideration, he postponed that task and took hold of your hands.

"Do it," he said, and you pulled yourself into a half-sitting position, allowing yourself to be carried away by your intrusive thoughts.

You started by kissing his chest, gradually moving down from his collarbones. Repaying him for the purple bruises on your neck, you left a few of your own on his body as you sucked on his skin, making your way down to his abdomen.

You paused when your hands began to unbutton his pants, during which Anakin helped you by pushing his pants down the sides.

Without waiting any longer, you slipped your hand beneath his underwear, and upon feeling him, you had to admit that you were a bit concerned about whether you could handle it. Well... It's more than impressive.

With your free hand, you pushed his clothing down a bit further and began to massage him with considerable force, so much so that Anakin immediately groaned and, overwhelmed by the feeling, tilted his head backward.

"Keep.... Uh... Keep it this way." Anakin murmured, propping himself up on his arms on the bed.

You nodded, biting your lip, and continued, carefully observing the pleasure on his face. Both of you knew, however, that you wouldn't finish this way, so you began to slide off the last piece of your clothing with your free hand. But you flinched when you heard an unfamiliar sound.

"What's that? Did you hear that?" Anakin immediately turned his face toward you when he heard your words and waited for a moment to catch the presumed sound.

"General Skywalker, can you hear us?"

"Fuck," Anakin cursed, completely shocked, as he realized someone was trying to contact him through the communicator embedded in his belt.

Your disappointment was equally profound. The only thing you could do at this point was to grab your head and collapse on the bed right next to him.

"Will you answer?" you whispered, feeling Anakin's growing anger.

"I'm afraid I have no choice." he replied through gritted teeth, then rolled onto the bed enough to reach for the communicator.

"I hear you. What's the problem?" he relayed, masking his frustration as best as he could.

"General, it's better if you get here as soon as possible. We had an explosion near the temple, and there are injuries among our people. I'm sending the coordinates."

Anakin clenched his hand on the communicator and nervously swallowed, realizing that his plans for the night had just taken a 180-degree turn.

"You'd better check what's going on there," you whispered, gently stroking his shoulder.

Both of you knew it was inevitable. So, without saying anything more, Anakin left one last passionate kiss on your lips and began to put his clothes back on. Meanwhile, you pulled out some lighter nightwear from one of the drawers and threw it on temporarily, knowing that you would need to shower and change properly in the bathroom once Anakin left.

"I'm sorry about this," he said to you with a disappointed tone.

"No... You shouldn't be. I understand... Go and make sure everyone is safe."

Anakin just nodded and grabbed the doorknob, but he stopped for a moment as he was about to leave.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked again, making eye contact with you.

"Tomorrow. Same time, Master." you replied, running your fingers through your hair. This time, both of you exchanged a mischievous smirk, but Anakin's gaze on you was like never before. He looked at you as if he had just discovered something, as if he had unearthed a treasure he desired and wanted to dig up even more.

"Get some rest." he managed to say before finally closing the door to your room.

That was the moment when you felt drained. You felt disappointment, but also an incredible, surreal ecstasy. You fell onto the bed and didn't know what to do next, other than to gaze up at the ceiling.

Well... whatever you do, one thing is for sure—you won't be sleeping tonight.

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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TAKE CARE OF YOU [3]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,501

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: I'm feeling Fridays for the update day, but i'm not married to that idea yet. also thank you for all the love this has seen so far!! I am so happy to know I'm not the only one that would sell my soul to have Joel Miller as my sugar daddy.]

03: YOU THINK MY VOICE IS PRETTY?

"the way his voice sounds, or the words he speaks, i can never decide what pulls me in more." -butterflies rising

‘Morning, sugar’.

You chuckled at the term of endearment and leaned back in your seat. The other people on the bus surrounding you were living their own lives as always. You recognized many of your routine bus neighbors. The woman who ate an onion bagel every single morning on her way to work, the man who still read an actual newspaper rather than use his phone, the brother and sister duo⏤only teens⏤ on their way to school. You wondered how these people classified you in their head.

‘Morning to you too⏤’ You paused. Should you call him ‘daddy’ again? Saying it teasingly was one thing, but typing it somehow made it seem more permanent. Which was a stupid thought to have, but it was the one that plagued you nonetheless. You deleted your words and started again. ‘Morning! How⏤’ Again, you froze. Was the exclamation mark too much for this early in the morning? It was only yesterday that you made this deal with him and it would be sad for you to annoy him so early in the deal. Delete. Repeat. ‘Joel⏤’ Way too formal. Okay. You were officially over thinking this.

‘Hey! How’s your morning going?’

The moment you hit send that dumb little anxiety riddled voice at the back of your head tried to criticize your choice of words and you had to wrestle it back down. Almost immediately you saw the text bubble of dots pop up as he typed.

‘Great. First meeting got canceled. You?’

It was marginally funny to you that the man who owned this huge company seemed so dead set on avoiding meetings. Plus, it was kind of cute that he was more comfortable in flannel than suits.

‘Just on the bus heading to work!’

The text bubble popped up immediately, then disappeared, then came back, then disappeared once more. As you waited for it to return, his name filled the entire screen as he called you. Your eyes widened in surprise. After getting past your shock, you answered, “Uh, hi.”

“Sorry, repeat that for me.” Joel’s voice was nearly drowned out by a bunch of noise that you’d have to guess dealt with some kind of construction. “You’re on the ‘what’ heading ‘where’?”

“Bus? Work?” You replied in confusion.

Joel cleared his throat and he must have been moving since the noise simmered down. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said, darlin’. Can I ask why?” The sound that left your mouth was a good representation of your broken brain. “Because I’m pretty sure you and I made a deal yesterday. Didn’t we?”

“We did.” You said slowly. “But⏤”

“Darlin’⏤”

“In my defense, I can’t just quit work. I respect Henry too much. I have to at least give him a two weeks notice so he can find a replacement.” You argued. Even if Henry wasn’t someone you considered family you’d still feel obliged to quit the correct way. Still, maybe that was something you should’ve mentioned yesterday before the two of you parted ways. “Sorry, Joel.”

He let out a small sigh. “There’s no need to be sorry. I understand. You’re too responsible for your own good.” You chuckled. “But the bus? The bus?”

You had to resist the urge to laugh at how insulted he was at the prospect of you on public transportation. You glanced over your shoulder out the window to see how far from work you were. “Well, ubers and taxis are so expensive from my house to the bakery. Plus, I have a bus card!”

“Bus card?” Joel repeated. His incredulous voice took an amused tone. “Sugar, you got daddy’s credit card.” Your eyes widened and you felt your entire face burn as heat filled your cheeks. As if somebody would be listening in, you glanced around at the people sitting near you. Joel chuckled, the sound low and deep, “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I, uh, I⏤ That’s a good point.” You cleared your throat. “It felt silly using the card for something like an Uber or taxi though. You know?”

“Nothin’ is too silly. I want you to use that card. All the time. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“I understand…” Joel repeated with enunciation at the end. Waiting for something. Waiting for…

“I’m on the bus.” You whispered into the phone, in shock, while covering your mouth.

Joel hummed. “Oh, I know. Now. I understand…”

You chewed on your lower lip, glanced around, then whispered into the phone quickly, “I understand, daddy.”

“Sorry, sugar. Couldn’t quite hear you there. Must be because of how loud and hectic that bus is.”

Your lips curled up into a broad grin as your face continued to burn. He cleared his throat to urge you on, and you shook your head with a slight chuckle. You blew out an amused breath and repeated yourself. “Yes. I understand, daddy.”

An older woman sitting to your left shot you a curious glance and you sunk in your seat, and turned toward the window to laugh. You could hear Joel’s breathy laugh over the line as well. Joel spoke up, “That’s better. As for this transport problem,” You rolled your eyes still grinning, “Can you drive?”

“Well, yeah.” You replied and the smile fell as a thought occurred to you. “That is not a reason to buy me a car.”

“Wow, you really think I’d buy you a car right out the gate like that?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I⏤” You paused then shook your head. “Wait, no, actually I do. I do think you’d do that.”

“You’re right. I would. You got a preference, sugar?”

“Please do not buy me a car.” You blurted. “I… I really don’t like driving around this city. Last time I even got behind a wheel was over two years ago.”

“Fine. No car. I’m gettin’ you a driver then.”

“That still feels excessive.” You replied hesitantly.

“Do it for me then? I’d feel more comfortable knowin’ you’re not ridin’ around with strangers.”

The words were spoken with kindness, actual concern, and a part of you wondered if he was saying what he was because it was expected of him? The deal was for him to take care of you and keeping you safe could arguably fall under that umbrella of responsibilities. You just found it hard to believe he’d care out of the goodness of his heart considering how little time you had spent with one another thus far. It wasn’t a criticism of him at all. Maybe he was just that kind deep down, maybe he did have a bleeding heart. It was the process of trying to apply that thought, those concerns, to yourself that felt silly. At the end of the day, that voice of anxiety just couldn’t fathom a near stranger actually worrying over your well being with no ulterior motive of their own.

Joel said your name over the line, snapping you out of your line of thought, and you forced your smile to return. It wasn’t hard to find. “Alright. For you.”

“Good.” He blew out a breath of what almost sounded like relief. “What time does your shift end?”

“It’s Sunday so I usually close up the shop around 5:30, then pack away all the leftovers to take to the shelter a few blocks away.” You replied. Anytime the shop had any leftovers, which was happening more and more, Henry would donate the goods to the local shelters and kitchens rather than toss it.

“I’ll have my guy there around 5 then. I don’t want you waitin’ on him.”

“Yeah, but now he’ll have to wait on me.”

“I know. That’s the point, darlin’.”

You couldn’t decide which you liked more. Joel calling you ‘sugar’ or ‘darlin’. Then again the sound of your name was equally as intoxicating. Honestly, it wasn’t fair how good his voice sounded in general. The bus peeled off to the side to come to a stop and you hiked your bag up your shoulder to get off.

“I’m at my stop.”

“Say good-bye to the bus. You ain’t ridin’ on it again as far as I’m concerned.” You chuckled and as you walked off you couldn’t help but glanced back at the familiar people you had gotten used to seeing so often. You mentally wished them a farewell. It was cheesy, but it nearly felt like the end of an era. Joel spoke again as you stepped onto the busy sidewalk. “And remember, my guy is pickin’ you up today. No ubers. No taxis. No buses.”

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t make a run for it.”

“Good girl.” Joel chuckled and your face immediately went warm once more. A habit you were beginning to pick up around this man. Joel said quick good-byes, saying he needed to help someone out on site and promised to text you later. You echoed his sentiments and tucked the phone away after hanging up. Wow, okay, it seemed hearing him call you ‘good girl’ won in a fucking landslide.

As it turned out, Henry had come in early to bake for the day, but left it open for you to set out as he hadn’t been feeling well and had to leave before you even got the shop fully open. It was incredibly poor timing because you planned to announce your two week’s notice to him and that seemed like a dick move to do while he was sick. Tomorrow. You’d try again tomorrow. No big deal. What would a one day difference make?

The bakery always had it’s busiest days on Sunday, weirdly, but still it was nowhere near the kind of traffic this place truly needed. Usually days where it ended up being you alone were even more painfully boring, but today had been, well, fun. Joel continued to text you through the day and the conversation was a decent distraction from the dichotomy of doing nothing between customers. Plus, without Henry there, you didn’t even have to pretend like you weren’t playing on your phone the entire time.

The last hour of your shift had gone by without Joel as a distraction because of a meeting. One he had grumbled about twenty minutes prior to it. You were in the process of packing items away when you noticed a black SUV sitting outside on the side of the road. Pausing in your work, you ran your hand down your apron and made your way out of the shop and toward it. You had just planned to tap on the window to get his attention, but you were barely halfway to the SUV when the man behind the driver’s seat jumped out and hurried around with a nod.

“Ma’am.”

“Hi.” You gave a small wave. “I’m⏤”

The blond man blurted your name out with a nod. Of course he knew who you were. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss?”

“No, no. I wanted to invite you in! It’ll be a minute before I’m done.”

“It’s alright⏤”

“I insist.” You said firmly. He hesitated once more before going to turn the car off. He was older than you, if you had to guess, and he wore a clean, black suit and a pair of dark aviators over his eyes. If he had a little radio in his ear you’d have him pegged as some kind of secret service guard. “What’s your name?”

“Riley Talbot, ma’am.”

You motioned for him to take a seat at one of the tables with a smile. “Well, Mr. Talbot, you have a muffin preference?”

“Just Riley is fine, and you don’t have to⏤”

“Either you tell me your muffin preference or I’m gonna pick at random, Riley.” You replied then ran through the options you had today. Riley hesitantly told you his preference for the banana nut option and you brought it over for him on a small plate. The man took his sunglasses off, tucking them into his inner suit pocket, and you took note of his very blue eyes. “How long have you worked for, Joel?”

Riley shrugged. “I’ve been working for Mr. Miller for the last five years.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Five years as a driver for Joel? You couldn’t imagine Joel using a driver. The man who preferred flannels over suits seemed like the kind who was adamant about driving himself. Plus, this wasn’t the person who had picked you up yesterday. How many did he have?

“Well, give me a second here and we can head out. I just gotta finish packing up today’s leftovers.”

“Please, take your time.” Riley nodded then motioned to the muffin. “And thank you.”

You left him to enjoy his snack in peace so you could go back to cleaning out the display stand. It was repetitive, simple work that you had gotten very used to doing mindlessly over the years. You were on the last row of cookies when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Pulling it out you saw it was a text from Joel.

‘Did Riley show up?’

‘Yupp. He’s in the bakery eating a muffin right now.’

‘You didn’t need to feed him, sugar.’

‘Too late. Besides, that’s one less muffin for me to carry now.’

‘Put it on my tab.’

You rolled your eyes, as if a singular banana nut muffin was of significant cost, ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on your meeting?’

There was a longer pause before you got a response.

‘Touche’

You chuckled under your breath and tucked the phone away once more. After stacking a few of the boxes on top of one another, you shrugged out of your apron to hang it back up on the wall. Riley had risen from his seat and you took the plate from him before he could argue otherwise. You gave it a quick wash before setting it away to dry for the night and when you returned Riley was still standing by the boxes of baked goods.

“I’m almost done. I’m gonna carry these down to the shelter.”

“I’ll help.” Riley replied.

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

Riley gave you a friendly smile. “It’s my pleasure. Mr. Miller was adamant about me helping out where I could.”

Knowing arguing was only going to stretch this process out you nodded and he took half the boxes. At least this would save you a second trip. As the two of you made your way down the street you learned that he was older than you, in his mid thirties, and he had been in the Marines before picking up work with Joel. It was actually through Riley that you learned Joel had a brother who had also been in the military as well. You’d have to ask him about that.

“I’ve been saving to buy a ring.” Riley shrugged as you both got onto the topic of relationships while on your way back from dropping off the boxes.

“If your girlfriend is as sweet as you claim I’m sure she’d be charmed by anything you got her.” You argued. “And how long have the two of you been dating?”

“Three years next month.”

“Aw, congrats!” You chirped.

Riley continued to gush about his girlfriend and how she worked as a kindergarten teacher. The way his voice held so much love for the woman he bragged about to you made your heart ache. You had always thought this was how your last relationship would look like. You and your ex-boyfriend had been on a similar path after all. When he broke up with you six months ago, the two of you had been weeks away from your three year anniversary. For the longest time, he had been the one you thought you’d be marrying.

And here you were today with a sugar daddy on speed dial.

Funny how life worked.

“Let me grab my stuff and lock up and I’ll be right back out.” You said and Riley agreed with a nod before heading to the SUV himself. Maybe you’d text Nima and see if she was busy tonight. It had been a long time since you thought about your ex and letting him slip back into your head had been a dumb move on your part.

Once out, Riley held the back door of the SUV open for you to slide into. He asked for your address which you provided before settling back in your seat. The radio played a soft tune, you couldn’t hear the roaring of the roads outside, the air smelled clean, and you had ample space to stretch out. This was a far cry from the bus. Nima texted you back, answering your request for drinks tonight, but she had to turn it down because she had a date. Though she did follow it up to ask if you were feeling well and that she’d bail if you needed a girls’ night. You smiled at her words, but reassured her that everything was fine.

‘Hang out with your daddy! 🤪’

Despite the teasing nature of her text, she may have been onto something. Riley was getting closer to your apartment complex and you leaned forward a bit. “Hey, Riley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what time Joel usually gets off of work?”

“It depends. I think he mentioned today he was gonna be working late. That’s why he sent me instead of coming to get you himself.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It hadn’t dawned on you that Joel wanted to be the one to pick you up and just hadn’t been able to due to his own work. Still, that shot your back up plan in the face. That was probably for the best. You didn’t want to come across as clingy. Though, maybe you were supposed to? Joel said there was no social quota for you to meet, but you doubted the validity of that.

“Thanks, Riley!” You said after exchanging numbers with him and climbing out of the SUV.

Your apartment was nothing to write home about, but it could be worse. It was a simple one bed, one bath on the fifth floor of a complex that had technically seen better days. However, despite the age and general weariness of the building itself, the residents you lived beside were nice, the owner actually cared about the people renting from him, and security was decent. More so than the other places in this area.

After dropping your stuff down and tossing your keys into the bowl near your front door, you pulled out your phone to see you had missed a text from a few minutes ago. ‘You home?’ Quickly, you responded with a positive and thanked him again for sending Riley to pick you up. ‘Good. Don’t thank me, sugar’.

You rolled your eyes. If he really thought you were going to accept things without thanking him he was dead wrong. Hell, you were struggling with the ‘accepting things’ part which was hilarious considering you had chosen and agreed to this deal with full knowledge of what that meant. You set down your phone to clean the work day off of your skin.

A few hours had passed, where you showered, changed into home clothes, ate, and then settled on the couch with a large glass of wine. Despite it only being close to nine you were almost considering chugging the remainder of the wine in your glass and calling it a night. You had work in the morning after all. As you brought the glass to your lips, your phone buzzed off to the side.

The text was from Joel. It was simple, and honestly hilarious to see.

‘You up?’

Your cheeks warmed and you wondered if he knew the connotations of texting a woman that message with no warning at night.

‘Yes lol I am up’

‘Can I call?’

Your eyes widened in surprise at the request. You took another rather large sip of your wine before setting it down on your coffee table and responding to him. The affirmative text hadn’t been sent longer than a few seconds when his name flashed across your screen. You had gotten used to mostly texting the people in your life rather than phone calls. This would take some getting used to.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sugar.” Joel breathed. “Sorry for calling late.”

“It’s hardly late.” You glanced at your clock on the wall. 9:07. “Are you just getting home from work? Riley said you’d be stuck there late.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Every once in a while I’m stuck in the office all day like this. At least I got to be on site this mornin’.” He groaned.

It sounded like he was pouring something on his end of the line. You commented on it, “Are you making yourself a drink?”

“Mhmm.” Joel took a sip of whatever it was he had poured, you could hear him swallow and made your throat dry up. “That alright?”

“Hey, I’m on my second glass of wine so I can hardly judge.”

“Second? You have a long day, sugar?” He asked in concern. Again, the sound of it caught you off guard. You could count on one hand the number of people who showed you genuine concern in the last two years. “Everythin’ okay?”

You forced out a chuckle and nodded despite him not being able to see it. “I’m fine.” It was probably a little early to be flooding him with your problems and the history of your ex. Instead, you jumped over it entirely. “I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to get dinner or drinks, but when I asked Riley what time you got off he said you’d be working late.”

“What?” Joel asked in surprise. He grumbled under his breath before speaking up. “Don’t ever let that stop you, darlin’. I always got time for you. Honestly, it would've been a nice surprise and a good excuse to leave early.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You better.” Joel grunted as he dropped down into a seat. Another tired sigh left his lips and you opened your mouth to suggest that he get some rest, but he beat you to speaking. “Tell me about your day, sugar.”

“It was pretty boring.” You replied. “You’ve seen how empty the bakery tends to get.”

“So? I still wanna hear. Talk about somethin’ at least. Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You grinned to yourself. “You think my voice is pretty?”

“I think everythin’ about you is pretty. Now, no more stallin’. Hit me with it.”

If he wanted to hear about your boring day you’d be more than happy to indulge him. His words still caught you off guard though. He liked your voice? It was extra funny considering how much you liked his voice personally. You talked about the few customers you did have today, how thankful the shelter had been for Henry’s leftovers, and getting to know Riley.

“Yeah, Riley is a good guy.” Joel agreed. “Figured the two of you would get along. Plus,” He took another sip of the whiskey he had told you he chose as his drink earlier, “I know he’s head over heels for that girl of his so I didn’ have to worry about him makin’ a move on you.” You laughed at the sentiment and Joel let out a small chuckle himself. “I ain’t kiddin’, sugar. I only just got you to agree to put up with me. I ain’t plannin’ on losing you quite yet.”

“Put up with you.” You scoffed. “As if I don’t equally enjoy talking to you.”

Joel chuckled in response then cleared his throat. “How’d it go with your boss? How’d he take the news?” Your smile turned sheepish and rather than answer you picked up your wine glass, now at the end of your third, and took a long sip. Joel sighed. “Sugar?”

“Okay, so, hold on.” You blurted. “He was sick today. Henry left like right after coming in to help me open and I didn’t wanna spring the news on him when he already felt so terrible.” You set the wine glass down then buried yourself into the couch under your blanket. “I’m already worried I’m gonna break his heart.” Joel blew out a sigh and you winced. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t.” Joel responded, but it wasn’t sharp or demanding. He just didn’t want to hear you apologize. “I want you to stop workin’ because I think you’d be happier out of that place, but I’m not tryin’ to shove you into quittin’ if you ain’t comfortable with it yet, darlin’. If…” Joel paused. “If you think you need to stay there a little while longer then I’m not gonna guilt you otherwise.”

His words made your lips curl up into a small, soft smile. It wasn’t that you loved your work there by any means, but you did love Henry. He was family. Plus, that small voice of anxiety was still nagging loud enough that you couldn’t quite fully ignore it. This was still so new. What if Joel got to the end of this week and decided you were more annoying than entertaining. You couldn’t just tear up your roots with no guarantee that this life was fully concrete.

You didn’t know if Joel understood that from the same angle you did, but you did appreciate that he was willing to bend on that topic. “Yeah.” You said quietly then added in a teasing inflection added, “Thanks, daddy.”

Joel chuckled in response, “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

You remembered a topic you had planned on asking him earlier in the day, and maybe it was the three glasses of wine that had loosened your tongue, but you blurted it out without thinking. “So, hey, I hear you have a brother?” Joel was quiet for a beat and it was only then that sober logic regained control. “I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to blurt it out like that. Riley mentioned he was in the military and that you had a brother who was too. I didn't mean to pick at a sore topic if⏤”

“No, sugar.” Joel chuckled. “Not a sore topic. Just caught me off guard is all. But, yeah, I got a baby brother. Tommy.” Tommy Miller. You tucked the information away in the folder of facts you were learning about Joel. “He was in the Army for a while, but left a long time ago. He actually works with me now at the company. Was with me when we went from small time contractors to whatever the hell we are now.”

“Big deals.” You joked. “If your fancy building is anything to go by.”

“Guess so by someone’s definition.” Joel snorted. You liked that he still felt so grounded and to the earth. It had been part of the reason his proposition caught you off guard because after meeting him you never would’ve suspected him to be the kind who owned a large and very rich company.

“You’re not mad that Riley told me that, are you?” You asked. “Because if you are, I'll admit to wrestling the information out of him.”

Joel laughed. “I ain’t mad, darlin’. Like I said, I’m glad the two of you get along. You’re stuck with him now.” You hummed in confusion and Joel added. “He’s your driver. Anywhere you need to go, any time, just call him.”

“Wait, seriously?” You cried.

“I told you I ain’t letting you get on a bus again.” Joel replied like he was still appalled you had done so this morning. “And since you won’t let me buy you a car…”

“Fine, fine, fine.” You blurted and he let out a soft laugh. A beat of silence stretched between the two of you, but it was a comfortable one. The kind where you just enjoyed knowing he was on the other end of the call even if he wasn’t actively speaking.

You accidentally let out a small yawn and Joel hummed. “You need to get to bed.”

“Nuh uh.” You replied. “It’s only…” You found the clock and your eyes widened. 12:01. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I’ve kept you up long enough, sugar.”

“I’m not even tired.” You whined and rose to your feet. The stiff movements made you realize how close you had been to just passing out on the couch.

“Sure, you ain’t.”

You meandered to your bedroom, flipping out lights as you went, and shut your bedroom door. “Will we talk again tomorrow?”

“You mean later today?” Joel joked.

You chuckled. “Yes.” It didn’t even matter to you that you may have sounded needy. Being on the phone had not only been fun, but it had been just what you needed to settle the turmoil you had accidentally scourged up earlier. “So?”

“Course, sugar. I’ll text you on your way to work. Riley’ll be there at 6:30 to pick you up.”

“Alright. Night, Joel.” You replied sincerely. “Thanks for talking to me.”

Joel hummed and you could hear him moving around on his end as well. “Should be thanking you.” He added quickly, a tinge or nervousness seeping into his voice. “Hey, do you wanna, uh, you wanna plan for dinner?” Your eyes widened marginally but your lips spread out into another warm and wide grin. “I got a few more busy days, but this Wednesday I’ll be free all evening. Wanna make a night of it?”

“Yes!” You answered much faster than you had initially planned. There went being cool and collected. Joel chuckled. “I mean, yeah. That would be⏤ That would be fun.”

“Good. Get some sleep, sugar.” Joel replied. You wished him well before the call ended and you were left standing in your bedroom feeling like you were on cloud nine.

taglist:

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @rinnfey @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #modern au #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #reader insert #female reader

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sgiandubh · 5 months

Text

Lallybroch: copyright vs. trademark

An excellent question was asked by our friend @rosfrank in the comments thread to 'The door faces North' post and given the cosmic amount of uninformed bullshit being ventilated for almost ten years in this fandom, I think it's time to answer it once and for all:

Whenever we are informally talking about 'owning the rights to something', I think it's very important to bear in mind a fundamental distinction between two different categories of ownership rights: copyright and trademark.

The copyright is the most familiar one to many of you. It is what you usually find on those annoying and apparently useless first or last pages of all the printed or digital editions on this planet. Something like this:

In the US, copyright issues are regulated by the Copyright Act of 1976, as included in Title 17 of the US Code. The US public authority competent for registering and managing copyright is, as predictable, the US Copyright Office.

Perhaps the most seminal US Supreme Court decision, as far as copyright is concerned, is the 1991 Feist Publications, Inc., v. Rural Telephone Service Co. In it, the Court ruled that mere compilations of information or facts (such as, for example, telephone books) are not protected by copyright, according to US law. In other words, the ancient legal concept of 'sweat of the brow' (which simply means the amount of work required to gather and compile those facts/information) is not enough to qualify a work for copyright protection, if no creative effort is added to enhance its content. This is why I have always considered absolutely ridiculous Marple's efforts to watermark public information screenshots: it is useless (to the extent that it legally protects her from nothing) and, as her timelines, a mere compilation of facts (legally ditto). A similar approach is preferred by the UK and also by many Roman law legal systems, such as the French one - just making things clearer, here, by the way.

See how 'Erself is roughly doing, right now, in this department:

But I am rambling. In my view, Lallybroch, as a pivotal concept used in Diana Gabaldon's books, is protected by the copyright granted to each and every of her books mentioning it, according to the Roman law principle 'accessorium sequitur principale' (the accessory follows the principal). So it will remain protected for at least 70 years since the last of her books mentioning it would have been published under copyright. Unless she chooses to separately protect the entire finished cycle as a whole, once Book Ten (fingers crossed) is published, preferably during our foreseeable lifetimes.

That being said, that goes only for one copyright category: (published) text - you cannot copyright that secret diary in your drawer, LOL. This is why, the current US Copyright Office records concerning Lallybroch look like this:

Sony Pictures Television Inc owns the copyright to the fictional name Lallybroch in the motion pictures category, as it is the title of the Episode 12, in Season 1 - DG has been handsomely compensated for this, no worries. And someone I have no idea about owns the rights to an original musical score she has written and titled Lallybroch in the music category, since October 2013.

Onwards to the trademark. This is something different and this is all about making your name/concept/idea profitable. It is all about branding it, putting it on a product and selling it under that brand. It includes all the graphic elements and the logo of the brand (accessorium...) - in short, its visual identity to the consumers. In the US, trademark issues are regulated by the 1946 Lanham Act and the public competent authority is the good old US Patent and Trade Office (USPTO).

Right now, the situation for the Lallybroch trademark is as follows:

So, we see three different trademarks: two of them, owned by Diana Gabaldon, are classified as 'dead' (cancelled and/or abandoned) and the third, Lallybroch Spirits, owned by S's Great Glen Company is pending approval - he will not be able to label any booze bottle Lallybroch Drink Me before permission is granted by the USPTO.

Let's unpack:

Both Lallybroch trademarks formerly owned by Diana Gabaldon were filed at the USPTO on February 21, 2000 and granted on December 12, 2000. The first was aimed at producing 'tartan fabrics for the manufacturer of clothing' and it was abandoned in December 2003:

The reason is that the owner did not file in any Statement of Use after the trademark was granted. She had three years to do so, and since she chose not to do anything about it, the trademark was deemed abandoned (Stacy K. Smith is the attorney hired by Herself, btw). That means she specifically implied not to intend using it in the future. As such, she may claim NO rights on a now free to use mark:

The second trademark was aimed at producing 'clothing, namely, t-shirts, dresses and headwear' and also 'jewelry, namely, rings, pins and necklaces'- to cut the story short: OL merchandise - and it was cancelled on March 1st, 2013:

The reason is that the owner did not file the Section 8 declaration (of continuous use for five years) within the allowed legal timeframe (6 months after the fifth anniversary of the trademark granting renewal). Her trademark federal rights are now deemed canceled (but not her state law and/or common law rights!) and if she wants to ever use that name again, she would have to start the whole process over, bearing in mind the trademark could have been granted to someone else, in the meanwhile (not her case).

And for anyone who might ask, 'Erself does not own any other trademarks whatsoever:

The other (Doll Lab - LOL for ages) Diana Gabaldon is a pharmacist from Albuquerque, NM. Chill. 🤣🤣🤣

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as far as published text is concerned, is Diana Galabdon.

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as far as motion pictures are concerned, is Sony Pictures Television Inc.

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as a personal work of music, is Mrs. Kelly Ruth Davis, of Pennsylvania, USA.

The owner of the Lallybroch Spirits trademark will be Sam Roland Heughan, when that trademark is granted by the USPTO.

I hope this answers your question, @rosfrank. Thank you for asking.

#fandom #shitshow #boozewars #business #legal

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siampie · 6 months

Text

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of depression

A/N: Alright, I struggled to write this chapter. I wanted to get the interactions between Dean and Reader right but also, wanted to give you more info on Reader. So, I really hope you’ll like this chapter.

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Tag list: @lyarr24, @deans-baby-momma, @hell0-ki11y111, @kr804573, @zepskies, @impalari, @urinternetmom, @sushiumex

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You poured the salt on the corpse. You cracked a match and threw it on the body. Flames engulfed the bones. You stood there for a little while longer. The poor girl had not stood a chance. Her family had been horrible to her. Put her through torture. And that was decades ago. She had no reasons to remain amongst the living, no reasons to haunt them. They weren’t the one who had hurt her and yet, she still wanted revenge. Blinded by her rage, the spirit had killed the people that had lived in her mansion over the years. Some were classified as natural deaths, and others as freak accidents. With so many deaths in one mansion over the years. All happening at a specific time of the years, you had to check it out.

It was a run of the mill hunt. Quite easy. You threw your bags in the trunk of your car, and climbed in the driver’s seat. Your goal was to get out of town as quick as possible, to disappear. You drove through the night. You wanted to get to your small flat as quick as possible.

Your two bedrooms apartment was your refuge. You could go there and recuperate for a few days. You loved hunting, you really did but you sometimes needed a break from it. Adding to the dangerous nature of the job, and the constant near death experiences, it was also draining. And rarely, was it ever rewarding. But that was not why you were doing it. You truly believed that everyone in this life was born with a purpose. There were people born to be doctors, or cops, or even firemen. And some were born to be hunters. That was you.

One fateful night, you found out that monsters were real. Everything that went bumping into the night, the monsters under the bed, the witches, vampires, werewolves, they were all real. That fateful night was also the start of your aversion for woods, camping and wendigos. You hated all three of those things, and you avoided them at all cost. But it had not deterred you from getting into the life. After finding out about them being real, you could not just ignore it. You could not keep living your life as though nothing had happened. As though you knew nothing of monsters and of the people that hunted them.

So, you became one yourself.

The sounds of gunfire welcomed you as you pushed your door open. And the voice of your youngest brother swearing at the television followed. You pushed your door closed behind you with a tired sigh. Sure, you had texted him to let him know that you would soon be back. But you had not expected him to be there still.

“That’s not why I left you a key, you know?” You said dropping your bags by the door, after you locked it.

He put down the controller on the coffee table. “Your plant is taken care of.” He shrugged turning to you. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” You answered dryly. You dropped your keys on your dinner table, and moved to your kitchen. “Want a beer?”

“Yeah,” He got up and followed you into your kitchen. “So, how was it?”

“Matt—”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He leaned on the counter behind him.

“I don’t want to tell you.” You shook your head. “I’m not talking about it with you or anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“Because—we are talking about hunting monsters. And I don’t want any of you into the life.” You moved back into your living room. “And what the hell are you still doing here anyway? Don’t you have a girlfriend to go back to?”

“Just wanted to make sure, you were alright before I left.” He shrugged.

You smiled fondly at him. “That’s so sweet.” You cooed at him, pinching his cheek. He swatted it away.

“Stop.”

You snorted. “I’m alright, not injured. So, you can go back to your girlfriend.” You slapped his shoulder.

“you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nodded. “Go.”

“Alright, call if you need anything.”

“I won’t.” You called after him. “And don’t call me for the next few days, please.”

“I will.” He walked and locked behind him.

You spent the next few days locked up in your apartment. True to his words, your brother called you. But you really did not mind. Your youngest brother only wanted to make sure that you were taken care off. After all, you were living alone while he and your two other siblings had people to come home to.

Building relationships with anyone had never been easy for you. Especially romantic ones. Something always went wrong. You felt as though you were giving more than you were receiving. You always thought that you were not understood as you did them. And instead of expressing those things, you kept quiet. You let things go, hoping they would solve themselves. And ultimately, it would lead to break-up.

You never stayed home too long. You gave yourself a few days off, away from hunting and monsters, before going back into the fray. It wasn’t surprising to find you back on the road within days. And you always let your brother know when you did.

Out of all your siblings, he was the closest to you. The one that truly worried about you and made sure you were alright and taken care of, when you were home. And to think both of you hated each other growing up, was just laughable now. You knew you had failed him when you were younger. Always siding with your parents, trying your best to keep peace within your family. It had put a strain on your relationship with your siblings over the years.

“Agent Prentiss, FBI.” You flashed your fake FBI badge to the officer on the scene.

“Officer Davis.” He introduced himself. His eyes inevitably landed on your cleavage area.

Your white buttoned-down shirt was a little tight around your breast, you had left a couples of buttons undone. Which was giving him a glimpse of it

“What brings the FBI into this neck of the wood?” Davis said, clearing his throat.

You smirked as you caught him ogling at your cleavage. “The bureau has taken an interest into the recent strings of death that has been happening lately.”

“There’s nothing interesting in a couple of animal attacks.” Davis scoffed.

“True but these are quite unusual.” You pointed out. "Hearts missing. And nothing else. Doesn't really sound like an animal to me."

“Look, it’s better if people think it’s an animal.” Davis said quietly to you. “We don’t want them to panic while there’s a killer on the loose.”

“I completely understand your situation, trust me.” You told him. “I’m only here to help you. Maybe, a set of fresh eyes may help you see things a little clearer.” He seemed to hesitate. “I don’t want to step on your toes, here. I really do want to stop the killings. So, let me help you.”

You looked up at him. He ran a hand on the back of his neck. Hesitating on letting you in the investigation. He looked around you, the crowd at the edge of the crime scenes, the journalist looking for sensational news. Clearly, he was at a loss. He needed to provide answers to the victims’ family.

The killing spree had started a few days ago. It was pretty gruesome. Dead bodies had been found recently; their hearts had been ripped out. For you, it was quite an easy hunt. It was clearly werewolves. The deaths started with the full moon, and their hearts were missing.

“What can you tell me about the victim?”

“Young woman, early twenties,” He cleared his throat. He started to lead you toward the victim, where the Medical Examiner was getting a look at the victim. “She was found by a couple of joggers.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow to him. “People jog in this area?”

“Yeah, there’s a short trail that go into the woods for a few miles, before it cuts back into the park over there.” He gestured over your shoulder.

You looked over your shoulders briefly, and did a double take when you recognized a couple of familiar faces. “You have got to be kidding me.” You said under your breath.

“What was that?” Officer Davis asked you.

“It seems there was a mix up at the bureau.” You smiled tightly at Davis. “Anyway—” You turned to the M.E. “Anything you can tell me on the cause of death?”

The M.E. looked to the leading officer for approval. The latter nodded at her. “Same as the others.” She said, moving the head of the young woman to the side. “No apparent defensive wounds, she was hit over the head. Same spot as the others,” her hands left her head and went to victim’s wrists. “Ligature marks, and of course her heart’s missing.”

It looked like a werewolf kill alright. Although, the ligatures marks did not make much sense to you. Neither did the head trauma. Werewolves were pretty strong creatures and this seemed to indicate that they needed to restrain the victim before the kill, but why?

You turned around to see Dean and Sam Winchester were walking up to you. You excused yourself and met the brothers halfway. Dean looked a little peeved by your presence there. You approached them under his glare. You really did not get why he was mad about you being there. And you didn’t care.

“Winchesters, we meet again.” You said as a form of greeting.

Sam smiled down at you. “It’s good to see you.” Dean scoffed at that.

“Not everybody agrees.” Your eyes drifted to Dean briefly before you returned your attention on Sam.

“You’re not working the case.” Dean said and you glanced up at him confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not working the case.” Dean then gestured between him and Sam. “We are.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I already have an in with the officers. I got this under control. You can sit this one out. You do look like you need some rest, you look tired.” You patted his shoulder; and he recoiled from your touch.

“I don’t need rest.” He pointed an angry finger under your nose. “And really?!” Dean’s eyebrows went up into his hairline. “You got this under control?”

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded.

“So, you have it all figured out already?” Dean questioned, clearly hostile.

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “Dead bodies, heart’s missing. I’d say—werewolves.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“And you do?”

“How can you be so sure it’s werewolves?” He questioned.

“Because it makes sense.” You argued back. “What else could it be?”

“Skinwalker.” He shrugged smugly.

“Please.” You scoffed. “You’re just pulling something out of your ass.”

“Dean’s right.” Sam sighed. “It could be a skinwalker. We don’t know that for sure.”

“We do.” You retorted. “It’s a full moon.”

“It won’t matter if it’s a skinwalker.” Dean shook his head.

“Alright.” You snapped at him. “I’ll take that in consideration. Thank you for your help. Go home.”

You turned away from Dean and stomped to your car. You were angry with him, now. He was talking to you as though you didn’t know how to do your job.

Dean grabbed your arm, stopping you on your way to your car. “Listen, kid—“ You looked between him and the grip he had on your arm. “You could barely handle a vampire hunt on your own and now you want to take on werewolves?” You ripped your arm out of his grip. “You should really leave this one to us.”

“First, not a kid. Never was.” You replied. “Second, I called for help because I had never hunted vampires before.” You walked closer to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. “I know how to handle myself on a hunt. Not that’s any of your business, Winchester. I don’t need you or your brother, I can take care of this.”

You turned around and ripped the door to the driver’s seat open, before slamming it shut. And peeled out of there. How dared he? He treated you as though you were an amateur. This wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew how to hunt. You weren't new to this job. You should have reminded him that you saved his life on this vampire hunt. Had he forgotten?

You couldn’t care less if he stayed in town or if he left. You would just proceed with the hunt. Whether it was a werewolf or Skinwalker; as they suggested; you’d kill it and be out of town. After all, it was an easy enough hunt.

As you’d soon find out, they, in fact, did not leave town. You crossed path with them at the diner. You sent a glare Dean’s way as you walked up to one of the empty booths. You were determined to ignore Dean Winchester and his brother. You were determined to show them that you could handle yourself, and take care of it all on your own.

You didn’t need them. You had never needed anyone.

You sat alone in your booth and ate your lunch while reviewing the victims’ files. They all had been found by the trail near the small wooded area. Heart’s missing, ligatures marks, slight head trauma. The heart being ripped out, indicated a werewolf kill but the ligatures marks and the head trauma suggested something different. You didn’t understand why they were there. Why did they tie up the victims?

There was only one way to find out but you did not like it. You had an aversion for the wooded areas by night. More than anything. However you were a hunter and sometimes, you had to do what you had to do. So, you traded your FBI pantsuit for dark jeans that hugged your large hips and thick thighs perfectly. You traded your dress shirt for a tie-dye crop top that showed a sliver of your skin, and the stretchmarks that peeked out of your waistband. Scars that you had gained over the years as your body changed. It had grown and suffered. It wasn’t slim or thin, it was curvy and big. You had large hips, thick and plushy thighs, a large breast. You loved your body and you had learned to flaunt it.

Flaunting your assets was not what you were going to do tonight. Anyone who knew you, would tell you it was the worst idea you’d ever had. Especially knowing your aversion for the woods at night time. Garth would advise you to ask the Winchesters, since they were in town, to accompany you. And in retrospect, you probably should have. But he didn’t need to know about that.

“Son of a gun!” You breathed out shakily. You tightened your dark green flannel and your thick jacket around your torso.

You were too stubborn to ask for help when you should. But asking for help was like admitting weakness. And you refused to appear weak in front of Dean Winchester. He already thought you were incapable. You didn’t want him to think of you as weak. You were not going to give him the satisfaction.

Your fingers were tight around your lamp torch. Your heart beating wildly beneath your ribcage. Every breath you took was shaky. Everything in you was screaming at you to run. To go to safety. But you were a hunter. You needed to put an end to the killings. You needed to take care of the werewolf. Or the skinwalker.

Crunch. You froze. Crunch. You pulled out your gun. Crunch. A snort. You knew it wasn’t human. You took another shaky breath. A failed attempt to steady yourself. Your feet remained rooted to the ground. As the sounds were coming closer to your position. You needed to move. And fast.

When your body finally obeyed your brain, it was already too late. You had barely moved when the beast pounced on you. You let out a scream as you landed on your back. The wind got knocked out of you. Your gun flew away from you.

There you were, defenseless. And alone.

Yellow eyes staring into yours. Bared fangs as it snarled at you. Its breath was hot on your face. You did not wish to die here. Alone. Away from your family. This seemed much too familiar to you. A feeling of déjà-vu. You hated it. You hated the woods. You hated that monster breathing down on your face.

A shot rang. Its head snapped up to the sound. Two tall figures were rushing to your aid. You could have sobbed with relief at seeing them. But you weren’t out of the woods yet. No pun intended.

Its snarled at them. They fired their guns again. The creature fled as fast as they could. Sam rushed to your aid while Dean pursued the monster.

“Hey,” He helped you up. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. You were still shaken up. This was too close. You could have died tonight. All of that because you weren’t prepared. Because you wanted to prove something. You screwed up. You clenched your fists repeatedly. You just wanted for your hands to stop shaking. If they could only stop shaking.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Dean snapped at you, once he came back.

“What?”

“We were tracking it down and now it’s gone.” He continued. “You screwed it all up.”

“Dean.” Sam put a hand on his brother’s chest.

“Excuse you!” You snapped back at him. “I screwed up? I was being attacked.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t know what you’re doing, princess.” Dean stepped closer to you, glaring down at you. “I don’t know how you survived this long on your own, but it won’t last much longer if you keep pulling stupid stunts like that. Leave this to us before you get yourself killed.”

What he said wasn’t untrue. You could have gotten yourself killed tonight. It was reckless to go in before truly knowing what was behind the attacks. Although, that was unfair of him to say. You didn’t set out to be attacked or get yourself killed. You were only trying to do your job. You were a hunter and this was what hunters do. This was what they were doing. So, why was it okay for them to do but not for you?

No one believed in you. No matter how hard you tried they still thought you were uncapable. You had met hunters like him before. Doubting you and your skills. You were too soft, they said. You scared too easy, they said. However, you had proven to them that you knew what you were doing. You had proven to them that you got the job done.

You glared back at him. “Like you care.” You wanted to sound harsh, angry. You wanted him to know that you won’t let him get to you. But that wasn’t how it sounded coming out of your mouth.

You sounded tired and defeated. No one would care if you did die. Not the Winchesters. Not even your own family. Those words had always been floating in your brain for years. After all, you had done so many things for so many people. So many things that went unnoticed. Of course, if you were to disappear. No one would notice the difference. They didn’t need you. Not as much as you needed them. You felt the tears pressed against your eyes.

You would not give him the satisfaction to see you cry, on top of everything else. So, you turned around and walked away from the Winchesters. You heard Sam called you but you ignored him.

You needed to get away from the woods. You needed to get away from Dean.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester angst #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #angst

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ageless-aislynn · 6 months

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Title: “15 Minutes” (10/15) Author: @ageless-aislynn Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: As you heal, you're not alone. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating: T (PG13) Length: 2,604 (this chapter, 24,863 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N: Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Apologies for the break we took for a few weeks here. 😳This chapter turned out a little longer than I expected, (please enter "that's what she said" joke of your choice here), so I hope that makes up a bit for the delay. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger @mysardencut @laurenstacy610 @sporadicbelievernightmare @ultrablackwidower @bxmxtx @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Pressure on your chest brought you startling awake, flinging your left arm up as if to try and break free of a restraint. White hot pain burst from your shoulder down your bicep like a cord of fire trying to amputate your arm. You gave a strangled cry, managing to sit up and clutch at the various points of hurt as the agony gradually faded.

Out of the darkness, a now-familiar woman's voice said your rank and last name. "Are you all right? Do you need me to dispatch medical assistance?"

"No," you quickly said, automatically straightening your sleep-rumpled shirt. "I moved my arm wrong. Thanks, though."

"Of course," she returned, her tone kind.

"Are you, um, monitoring me?"

"Just for sounds of distress or pain. John was adamant that your privacy be respected as much as possible."

That made you smile slightly under the cover of the lack of light. "I hope they've given you something else to do other than to listen for me to say ouch."

"Not to worry, I keep busy."

You nodded even though she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could? Was she holed up in some ONI office, watching you with thermal signatures or some other sort of tech? "I appreciate it, Ms. Classified. Though I believe you gave me your name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I can't remember what it was."

"You were a little busy at the time," she demurred. "It's Cortana but I rather like 'Ms. Classified,' I have to say. It's like a nickname between friends, isn't it?"

"It is," you said. "And please feel free to use my first name. No need for friends to stand on formality."

"Thank you," she said and, after a slight pause, added your name as if it were an honor to do so.

Was she a Spartan, perhaps? Something about her careful manner reminded you of how John sometimes reacted to interpersonal things as if he hadn't ever dealt with them before and wanted desperately to be right in his response.

You wasn't sure if you should ask and while you were still wondering, she said goodbye with a sound like pixels vanishing, though there had been no hologram of her to see this time.

Your day was a lot more mundane after that. PT came by as Dr. Savannah had said they would, and you dutifully did the exercises with minimal grumbling and complaining. The ancient saying about medics being terrible patients was still said for a reason, after all, but you didn't want to be One Of Those if you could help it.

The therapist had brought you breakfast from the mess for after your session: the cold cereal MRE, typically called mush rarely edible, along with plain black coffee. She also told you that the next session would be tomorrow instead of later today, due to a scheduling conflict.

So that left you with a whole lot of day and very little to fill it.

You were scrolling through your padd, looking through old documents and messages, intending to clean up and organize things but, more often than not, ended up reminiscing on the past, on friends once part of your every day life now long gone, either transferred away or worse.

You discovered a folder full of sketches of various Mjolnir designs you'd done back before you'd decided for certain to begin training to be a Brokkr tech. Your interest in the Spartans and their armor had been a mere hobby, then.

You were far from a gifted artist but trying to capture the different iterations, the bulkier but classic shapes of the Mark V, the more streamlined Mark VI, had made for fun practice. You'd also tried out a few ideas of your own, such as "floating" pieces of armor to try and better protect the Spartans' joints without sacrificing mobility. The final image, though, had been a purely fanciful one: a fusion of Mjolnir and medieval, a literal Spartan in shining armor.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was no number on the chest plate but it was clearly Master Chief to anybody who was familiar with his armor configuration. The patterning on his visor had a texture reminiscent of a knight's helm and the flare of his shield had a shape like the plume of a feather at the crest of his head. One arm was extended but incomplete: you hadn't decided whether to give him a BR or DMR or go for something like a broadsword or lance. Then you'd simply never come back to finish it and it had been forgotten in your drafts for all this time.

Tapping a fingertip contemplatively against your lip, you thought for a moment, then impulsively picked up your stylus and began to draw.

Gentle fingertips brushed against your hair and you woke to find John next to the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," he murmured, "but you looked uncomfortable."

The moment he said that, your neck began protesting the odd angle your head had slumped into.

"Well, that was a bad idea," you said plaintively, straightening up very slowly. Your entire body ached like you'd been moonlighting as a punching bag. Your padd slipped off your lap to the mattress, then bounced towards the edge, and John easily caught it on the fly.

You suddenly remembered what had been on it. The screen was dark but all it would take was a brush of a finger to activate it again and he'd see--

"What's this?" he said, orientating the padd right side up.

"That's... my poor attempt at artistry," you said, feeling heat blooming up your neck. You resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and throw it to the floor yourself.

"It's not poor," he countered, studying it even more intently. "Not at all. I like it a lot, especially the detail here."

He tapped the image and the SPNKr rocket launcher you'd placed casually in the Spartan's hand, resting on the armored shoulder, expanded to better reveal the intricate filigree you'd spent a considerable amount of time adding to the large missile chamber.

"I mean, it's not practical, of course," you mumbled but his sincere appreciation lessened your embarrassment. "I wanted a medieval feel to a modern weapon."

"Do you have others?" he asked, handing the padd back to you.

You appreciated that he didn't just start flipping through the images. You swiped back to show him your other Mjolnir studies.

The very corner of his mouth twitched. "These are all mine, aren't they?"

"Hm, I suppose they are," you said in mock surprise. "It looks like I've had a favorite Spartan for a while now."

"Good," he said decisively, then glanced at you with a soft smile. "Could I send a copy of this to R&D?"

"Which one?" you asked, alarmed.

"The floating armor," he said, the smile growing a bit.

"Yeah, if you want," you said and forwarded the study to him. "I doubt I've thought of anything they haven't by now but I guess you never know."

"And could I have a copy of the other one, just for me?"

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

You switched back to the medieval drawing, adding your signature with a flourish in the corner before forwarding that one as well.

The door chimed and he went to open it as if it were expected.

"Master Chief, sir!" the young private said, making a motion no doubt intended to be a salute that he couldn't complete because of the large and apparently heavy covered tray he was carrying.

"At ease," he said, taking the tray from him.

The private snapped a salute as crisp as if he were in the presence of Lord Hood himself, then kept standing in the open doorway, staring rather starstruck.

"Thank you, you're dismissed," John told him.

"If you or the Hero of the Pit need anything, let me know, sir," the marine said earnestly before backing away.

Once the door closed, you said, "That really is a terrible nickname."

"The Covenant call me 'Demon,'" John said, bringing the tray to the bed and setting it on the foot.

"'Demon' is badass," you countered. "Mine sounds like I fell in a hole and somehow managed to crawl back out."

"Crawling out of that hole wasn't a given," he said, "and you made sure nobody else was in there with you."

He lifted the cover on the tray, revealing two sizzling plates of food. The smell that hit you was divine.

Your voice dropped an entire octave. "Is that eggplant parmigiana?"

"I... think so? It's whatever was being served in the Spartan mess for lunch." His expression darkened. "You were supposed to get breakfast from there, too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up. It's been dealt with."

You felt momentarily sorry for whoever had been on the receiving end of being dealt with. "I can't eat Spartan portions."

"You actually can because it so happens that I can calculate how many calories a Brokkr mechanic-slash-medic needs in order to heal properly." He held that with a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "And I also asked Dr. Savannah about it. She said, and I quote, 'Tell her it's fine to live a little.'"

"Oh, well, if it's doctor's orders..." you trailed off with a grin.

He left to get a small table and chair for himself since there was only the one lap tray and you took the opportunity to hit the head, thinking you'd be settled back in before he returned. As it turned out, you either greatly underestimated how far he had to go to find what he was looking for or, more likely, had greatly overestimated how quickly you could move.

Your left arm wanted to draw up to your torso from the way your damaged shoulder muscle was currently being foreshortened. Raising it even close to 45 degrees made it feel like it was being ripped off of your body. You took a couple of deep breaths, forcing it straight down to your side, and gritted your teeth though the pain as you returned to the main room.

John had already finished setting up the portable table and turned, his expression going almost comically aghast. "Should I call somebody? What can I do? I can carry you or--"

"No, it's fine," you told him. "I just have to work through it."

He hovered next to you as you made the few, torturous step back to the bed, his worry a palpable thing. Your bad knee buckled and he caught your arm -- fortunately, the right one -- to keep you from going down. His fingers hit a bruise hidden under your sleeve but you managed to not react.

The stricken look he gave you meant he'd seen the reaction anyway.

"There we go," you said, trying to sound breezy but the result was more winded than anything as you propped up against the headboard. "I'm ready for lunch. Are you? Lunch sounds great right about now."

He seemed at a loss as to what to do. You gingerly reached out and wrapped your fingers around his.

"I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm healing on schedule and it could've been much worse."

He nodded shortly, very, very carefully folding his other hand over yours. With a brief glance away, he nodded a final time as if agreeing to something you couldn't hear and then exhaled purposefully, affecting a lighter tone. "Well, let's see how that eggplant parmigiana is, then, hm?"

Even though physical therapy wasn't scheduled again until tomorrow, you went ahead and did the exercises anyway. Not only did it give you something to do after John left, but you were even more inspired to try to regain your strength as soon as possible.

Since you were alone, you felt free to swear your way more and more creatively through the entire session and only after the fact did you worry that maybe you had accidentally taught Cortana some new words and phrases.

Nah, you thought. Surely, she's not stuck sitting at some console all day and night, listening for me to need something, right?

You almost asked it out loud, just to see if she was listening, but decided against it. You didn't want to imagine she'd been instructed to keep her earpiece in to monitor you even when she took a meal or bathroom break. Or that maybe she never even actually got to go off-duty at all. It hadn't escaped your attention that John apparently didn't trust anybody else to provide your erstwhile overwatch.

You ate your dinner when it arrived, a very delicious chicken gumbo, then turned in early, since sleep was also an important factor in healing.

But your sleep was restless, the aches in your body keeping you from getting comfortable, and then when you did doze off, your mind kept taking you back to those moments when you were trapped. A couple of times, you found yourself jolting awake, John's name on your lips. You wondered if he was on base, asleep in the Spartan quarters. You'd assumed he would come back if he were here but you hadn't actually asked him to. It was his room, though, so wouldn't he...?

Try to get some sleep, that's the best thing right now. You'll feel stronger tomorrow, you silently instructed yourself, trying to find a comfortable position.

The next time you woke, your heart was thundering in your ears and you made a small panicked noise.

The lights abruptly came up to a quarter and you looked around wildly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

John sat up from where he was stretched out over on the couch and you instinctively reached for him. He was there almost as if appearing by magic, letting you grip his hand as he leaned over you.

You were tangled in the covers and struggled to free yourself. He carefully extricated you with his free hand.

"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked and you nodded.

"I- I didn't know you were here," you said, stumbling over the words. "Why are you on the couch? You could share. I'd- I'd like you to."

He got that slightly stricken look again. "I'm heavy. I'll hurt you by moving around. I can't... I can't cause you more pain. I'm right here, though."

You understood what he meant but it still stung a bit like rejection. You normally would've let him go, would've tried to accept it gracefully, but the phantom weight on your chest changed the words on your tongue.

Your voice emerged small and compressed. "I need you, John."

The words clearly hit him like a plasma bolt to the chest and his fingers closed gently around yours.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll be careful."

It took a few minutes but eventually you were in his arms, turned on your right side with your injured left arm resting on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. All of the movement did hurt but you absolutely didn't care; all that was important was that he was here, you could hear his heart beneath your ear, could feel his warmth seeping into all of your pains and soothing them.

"Thank you," you murmured into the softness of his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, kissing the top of your head and lightly brushing his fingers across the hand you had on his sternum.

You were almost asleep when you thought, but weren't completely sure, that he also quietly said, "I need you, too."

#halo #halo the series #halo paramount+#master chief x reader #x reader #john-117 x reader #aislynn's fics #aislynn's fic #ageless aislynn #fic: 15 minutes #series: how to date a spartan without even trying

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sanderssidesthehouse · 9 days

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Sanders Sides Ranked: Flirting???

Why do I have “For Legal Reasons This is a Joke” stamped on the front here? Because I get to saying some shit later that is NOT meant to be taken seriously. I enjoy saying words recreationally and making bits, not everything I say all the time is an accurate representation of my thoughts or beliefs and I just want to make that clear when posting on the piss on the poor webbed site.

Sorry, Logan. I don’t think he cares actually, but just in case. I would [verb] you. I also don’t think he cares about that, but just in case.

Also after adding the text on Logan's picture I decided I should add a little blurb to every slide so you can tell exactly how not biased I am.

When trying to decide on widespread appeal I had to acknowledge that most people would probably find him kind of annoying, which is his right, for sure, but then I had to gauge how annoying and how much that mattered and it took me a while.

For niche appeal, I just think that most theater kids™ don’t want to [verb] other theater kids™. They do [verb] for sure, but mostly because they can’t get anyone else because they’re theater kids™ and I think other insecure people mostly want to give him a hug.

(I was a theater kid but not a theater kid™, though I knew some. I just want theater kids™ to know it is their right to be insufferable.)

He's really kind of got two tricks, one is being dad and the other is being sad. I think I'd like to give him a Patt-on the head. If you're into that, though, hopefully you're also into frogs.

Look I was at one point part of all four niche appeal groups and I’m still part of two, this may be a targeted attack, but I caught myself in the crossfire.

Putting Roman in there was a joke bc you cannot tell me you don't classify what Janus was doing as flirting and it worked very well on our prince.

And unrelated to the ranking, I just get jump scared every time I see what Janus actually looks like bc he has long hair to me now. Where are his beautiful locks? Who cut my wife's hair?

Ok look. Quality of banter. We ALL saw his episode, ok? That was NOT top tier creative work. Granted he’s been locked in the basement for a long time so it’s understandable, but that doesn’t change the facts.

For his blurb I was between what I wrote and something along the lines of "I would forcefem him" and I don't think either of those convey to you how not biased I am but just know that I adore him.

I had a blast making this, I kept cracking myself up, which means probably zero other people think it’s funny but here we are.

I actually went into this thinking I would have Logan as the worst and I thought Roman and Janus would tie for best so I’m glad to see we all have the same general consensus. It looks like this list would go Roman, Janus, Patton, Remus, Virgil, Logan.

I did my best to cut out any egregious swearing and anything explicit so I hope everyone can appreciate my sacrifice /j. Thanks for joining me, argue about it in the comments and reblogs. (<- Also a joke, please be nice.)

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #siding post #siding ranks

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njpnetworks · 1 year

Text

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#advertising #affiliate #business #classifieds #marketing #text ads #traffic

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slutshamethesquirrels · 3 months

Text

Behind The Cover - Prologue

pairing: vampire!geto x reader

tw/cw: borderline dead dove (dead dove lite™) , gore, violence, animal abuse (there is a spider that gets stomped), mentions of SA, mentions of abuse in nearly all forms, more to be added, maybe, we'll see, im so serious about the gore, please PLEASE there is gore in here

this is a chaptered fic. i will be scheduling uploads for tumblr, but ofc, the whole thing can be found on ao3 in the meantime.

also, patience with me as i figure out this tumblr thing k thnx

Staring at himself in the mirror, Suguru wondered if the vampirism is really what classified him as a monster. After all, on the outside he didn't seem to be all that different from the rest. Just a man with a muscular build, a head full of long inky hair, and a brain full of bloodlust and carnage. No different from any other predator that walked the earth, just a little more powerful.

He knew this truth from the many jobs he’d taken over the years. It was Satoru’s idea, initially. Sometime back before people had little fear of the supernatural, when stakes and silver bullets and holy water was plentiful, when they were young and optimistic, before the big box office turned their kind into sparkly horny teenager fodder.

“If we have to kill to survive, and they hate us for killing their loved ones, why not offer the service as a favor? Hell, I bet they’d even pay us-!”

Suguru hadn't loved the idea in the beginning. Humans were as petulant and greedy as any monster he’d ever stumbled across. They placed orders for money, for lust, for revenge, for power, for fun. At one point, somewhere around the great depression, he'd felt like he’d gone mad. He considered obliterating every human in his path, if only briefly. But slowly, the wheels had begun to turn. As word spread amongst the elite, the pair had found themselves with satisfied appetites, and more money than they’d ever had. It was around this time that he approached Satoru with a proposition, or rather, an ultimatum. Something had to change, or he was leaving the operation.

”I cannot kill another innocent man, woman, or child. We achieved our goals, and now we have to find a way to stop it from harming others. Or at the very least, I do-”

And so it was.

At first, the pushback from the customer was severe, but by then what could really be done? Who were these petulant aristocrats to run to and tattle? Who among us would call the cops and rat out your hired hit men? Would you explain that they were vampires when you did so? It would only end with a well fare check on your own behalf, they'd think you were deranged. And you probably would be to pull a move so stupid.

Suguru sticks his toothbrush in his mouth and scrubs vigorously as he flips through his workload for the evening. A middle aged male who had been charged with 12 counts of domestic violence and given a more than generous plea, a thirty eight year old serial rapist (also male), a woman in her senior years who tormented her animals. Each file had evidence. Screenshots. Court records. Little footnotes that told if additional photo, audio, or video proof was stored on Satoru’s hard drive. They also contained frequent points of interest and personal information, such as addresses, dates of birth, bars and restaurants frequented by his targets. The last page of each file would hold pictures from multiple angles, and typed text of any distinguishing features. If he was lucky, a scrap of fabric or lock of hair would be taped on that page, giving him a scent to work off of.

He spit, rinsed, tossed his toothbrush back in the holder and gave himself one final look over. Jesus, he needed this. He was paler than usual, his cheeks slightly sunken in and purple bags under his eyes. His pupils had dilated to take up nearly all of the purple of his iris, which he had theorized in the past was the body's natural way of making them blend in better with their prey. Everyone in the house would get that blown out effect if they’d gone too long without eating.

He tucked the files away in his jacket and flipped the lights off, more than ready to get his night started early. Hunger was different these days. There were no starved pains in his abdomen, no weakness or sweating, but rather a feeling in his throat like he’d been swallowing gravel, and a full body need for blood. Every muscle in him felt like it was winded up far past its limits, ready to snap and jump at the first prey that stumbled across his path.

He doesn't stop to check in on Megumi or Yuugi as his heavy boots clunk against the interior balcony, assuming them to be asleep at this early hour anyway. The sun had just barely set. Typically, he liked to wait until a later hour to start, but if he didn't get some food in him soon, he was sure he’d be picking rats out of dumpsters and swallowing them whole on the way there, and he felt more sympathy for the rodents than what was on his menu tonight.

Typically, he’d rise and do a preliminary scope of the house, cleaning anything that needed it and making sure the place looked presentable, which Satoru always gave him hell for. They didn't have visitors, so why did it matter? That was another place where he differed from his longtime friend and comrade. Suguru desperately gripped to the shreds of normalcy and humanity he had left in him, but for Satoru, he liked to let his impulses take over.

Tonight though, he doesn't even glance from the balcony down into the windowless living room, much less head down the stairs to fluff pillows. He continues straight until he reaches the end, pushing up against the faux wall and swinging it open before stepping through. On the other side is a bookshelf, tall and heavy, that aligned neatly with others in a row just like it when the door was closed again.

Ah, the bookstore. It was creative, unique, a sanctuary for readers and intellectuals, not a cover up for a crew of vampires who couldn't have windows on their home and needed a way to avoid the fire inspection part of buying a residential property at all. It had been named ”The Bookstore” by none other than Satoru Gojo himself (a brilliant mind ahead of his time), and even had a listing on google! Not to add, three total reviews, all from normal humans who’d waltzed in for some non-murderous reason. Though it’s hard to comprehend why. On the inside, it was quaint and cozy, sure, but on the outside it seemed abandoned. Blackout curtains adorned every inch of the windows and the only indication it existed from the street was a wooden plaque on the door that quietly whispered the name to the public. Geraldine Scott had left five stars with no elaboration, Kimberly Ichajo had left three stars (again, with no reason for the deduction), and Micheal Town had left a scathing one star review about the snarky albino man working the register who’d poked fun at him for being bald when he'd asked for a discount. Satoru had promptly printed that last one out and framed it for the mantle above the fireplace. He said it was proof that there was good in him for letting “Shiny Mike” walk out with his bald head still attached.

Satoru, expectedly, was not at the register when Suguru breezed by it on his way out of the front door, though he was absolutely supposed to be. Suguru understood that it was unlikely that anyone would show up without prior announcement, but he was still slightly irritated by Satoru’s lack of regard for responsibility anyway. They had a front to hold up. Once he got some meat down, he’d be sure to send a passive aggressive text to the group chat.

It doesn't take long to find his first hit, seeing as house arrest typically kept people confined within a hundred feet of a particular address.

He arrived at a run-down trailer at around 8:30 pm, not bothering with the formality of knocking, instead opting to reach out and twist the doorknob until it snapped in half from the force. In one quick motion he’d used his fingers to remove the deadbolt from the gaping hole and pull the door open calmly. At this point, he could've already been onto the next. He could've used vampiric speed and strength to bust down the door, sink his teeth into the motherfucker’s neck and tear it off before he even knew what was happening.

But no. This was the part of Suguru Getou that made him a monster, species be damned. He liked the fear in their eyes as they realized their fate was at an end, relished in taking power away from weaklings who thought they were above the rest of society, loved the theatrics. He didn't just want them to die, he didn't just want to re-fuel- no. He wanted justice.

He smiles, sickeningly sweet as he calmly enters the sad excuse for a home with his hands tucked in his pockets to find his victim holding a hand gun. He's disgusting. Balding, shaking, sweating, blending right in with the scenery of a dusty blue well worn couch and a floor littered with cigarette butts and beer bottles. The whole place smells like piss.

“Ezra! So sorry to startle you, friend.” Suguru cocks his head to the side, not yet stepping further in from his spot in front of the door.

“Who the fuck are you? How do you know my name?!”

Suguru feigns a sullen pout as he takes a step forward, and then two more “Now, now, Ezra. That's no way to treat a guest-!”

“I'll fucking shoot I swear to god!” The balding man raises his gun in front of him with both hands to steady his aim, and Suguru continues his steady approach until the gun is flush with the fabric of his t-shirt, aimed right at the middle of his chest. This close, he has to look down a bit to meet the mans gaze.

“Was this the gun you used?” He purred, pulling his hand from his pocket and stroking the metal. The smaller man lets a flurry of emotions cast over his face in record timing; shock, confusion, fear, so much fucking delicious fear -

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice is still raised, and Suguru is getting sick of hearing it.

“When you threatened to kill your girlfriend of ten years. Or when you pistol whipped her in the back of the head. Or when you aimed it at yourself and threatened to take your own life if she ever left, or-”

A pop, loud enough to alert the neighbors, rings throughout the home, and Suguru’s more pissed at the noise than he is the gaping, bloodless, finger sized hole in his chest.

“I was fucking speaking.” he spits through gritted teeth, both unphased and unamused as he grips the barrel and the hammer and crushes it into his palm, rendering it useless. The smaller man's breathing escalates as he tries to wrap his mind around what's happening, and Suguru pulls the twisted metal away from him calmly.

“Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted-” he uses both hands to twist the gun apart, tearing it as easily as paper into two jagged pieces as he speaks “-I think it's only fair for you to feel what it's like to be on the business end of such a threat, no ?”.

At this the man attempts to take a step back and pathetically topples back into the couch, scrambling backwards as far as possible as he tried to bargain with death itself:

“Look man, I don't know what you want, but you can take my car, my wallet, I got a couple eight balls in my bedroom-”

Suguru laughs as he brings one boot up to pin his prey down to the couch, digging his heel into the hard plate of his clavicle until he hears a crack. He screams and writhes, and Suguru throws down the duller of the two pieces of scrap metal in his hands to bring a flat palm over his loud ass mouth, stifling the noise.

“I'll tell you what I want, Ezra. I want to know what her face looked like when you were putting her through hell. Tell me, was it like this? ” Getou jabs the remaining piece of metal into the tender flesh of his victim’s thigh, his eyes lighting up as that first spurt of fresh blood floods his senses. Its almost enough to cover up the smell of piss and cigarette smoke. Almost.

The felon thrashes and screeches below him, jerking rapidly as tears pour down his face.

“Oh come on, I bet it was more like-” he twists and jerks the metal upward towards the mans hip and back through the skin, inhaling deeply as blood flies and chucks of flesh spatter “that! Right? Am I right?”

The man below him has transitioned from high pitched wails to deep throaty howls. He’s bawling. He pisses himself as Suguru brings the blood soaked makeshift weapon to his own mouth, sucking of a stray piece of flesh and moaning in delight as it slides down his throat.

Oh yeah, this was gonna be a good night.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #geto suguru #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujustu kaisen #jjk fic

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thedroneranger · 2 years

Text

Sending Vibes

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Précis: Near or far, Bob will send you vibes wherever you are.

Note: The Bob Fucks agenda is a like a drug. I got one bump and needed another. This is a companion to Vibe Check but can also be read on its own. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit.

Word count: 1.6k

A frown downturned your lips, and your arms slipped from under the blankets to the pillows above your head. A deep sigh left your body as you thought about how much better your solo session would be if it weren’t solo.

You rarely masturbated alone. Hell, you rarely masturbated at all, because you finally landed the flyboy you had your eyes on all this time: Bob Floyd.

In the months since Bob stumbled upon you pleasuring yourself in your bunk and decided to help out, you two fucked like rabbits. You had managed to find every nook unseen by a camera on base, and you both knew each others’ homes like the back of your hands. In both houses, there wasn’t a surface you hadn’t fornicated on.

Although you and Bob had yet to define the relationship, it was obvious to the two of you that you were only seeing each other. It was also obvious no one else was going to do it for you quite like each other.

All the sessions between the sheets led you to spending more nights and mornings together. At some point, you’d learned Bob was quite the coffee connoisseur. Part of his morning routine included coffee from his favorite cafe a few blocks from his house.

At first, he would sneak out of bed for a coffee run, returning to wake you with a freshly brewed cup. Now you would join him, sitting together outside the cafe in the late morning before it was too hot to be outside. You had forewarned Bob your palate hadn’t expanded beyond burnt coffee and sugary lattes from coffee chains. Each time, in earnest, he would explain a feature of coffee: caffeine level, intensity, roast. It made your chest tight to listen to him nerd out.

For the past few weeks, your sexcapades and domestic routine had been on hold. Bob had been summoned to a naval base across the country to help prepare pilots for a classified mission.

So far, Bob’s absence didn’t just make your heart grow fonder, it also made your core ache. One of the reasons you and Bob were compatible is you were both always ready to go. You were perpetually wet, and one look from you had Bob pitching a tent.

Without Bob physically present, you had been spending evenings in your bed or his—someone had to water his plants while he was away—with your favorite toys. Since Bob was on another base across the country and not tucked away on a carrier somewhere in the middle of an ocean, you would trade steamy texts, photos and the occasional after dark video call.

Laying in Bob’s bed, wearing only his Academy t-shirt, you were basking in the glow of your first orgasm. Already gearing up for another, you scrolled through the audio erotica app you loved so much that you bought a subscription. Your toys were bluetooth compatible with the app, which added another trick to your bag to keep you busy.

Of course, an app update became available while you were browsing, so you took a couple minutes to let it complete. A pop-up took over your screen when you reopened the app. As you read it, your lips pulled into a smile.

Bob could now control your vibrator from anywhere.

Your mind was already racing, deciding how you wanted to introduce the new feature to him. Fortunately, you had already sent a few pictures, which led to a promise for him to video call you later.

The idea of Bob manning your vibrator while you had phone sex had you squeezing your thighs together. Your wand was the perfect choice. Making sure it was connected to the app, you tapped around until you secured the share code.

Kneeling on the bed, knees wide, you held the wand at your naked apex and snapped a photo. Happy with the result, you added the app code and a message, You're in control, before pressing send.

In less than 15 minutes, Bob’s contact photo of him sporting a cappuccino mustache lit up your phone. You bit your lip as you accepted the call. He didn’t even give you time to greet him. “You’ve been teasing me all day, and you’re giving me control of your vibrator? You’re playing with fire, darlin’.”

A smile crossed your lips. “Burn me, Bobby,” you challenged him. You didn’t even have the chance to vocalize your next thought as the vibrator you’d left in your lap buzzed.

“I don’t have much time before someone comes looking for me,” Bob explained. “Now, I want you to slide your pretty pussy along that wand like you do to me when you’re being a cock tease. Prop up the phone so I can see all of you.”

Bob moved his phone so you could see him, sitting on the edge of his bunk. His t-shirt off and flight suit pushed around his knees. Free hand fisting his hard-on. Pre-cum already oozing.

You froze for a minute, your mouth slightly open. “Close your mouth, darlin’.” Bob brought you back to the moment, bringing the phone back to his face. “Now, do as I say. I want to see you come before I have to hang up.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” you responded with a smirk. Bob felt his whole being vibrate at your words. See, Bobby would never admit it, but he absolutely got off on being called lieutenant when he was ordering you around.

He watched as you set the phone in a place that gave him a wide angle view. Then, you placed yourself in the middle of the bed with your wand between your legs so the head was pressed against you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” Bob cooed as he watched you and pumped his length, swiping his thumb over the head. He positioned his phone so you also had a full view of him.

Without warning, he turned on the vibrator, which made you jump. You glared at him while he threw a smirk at you. Hands on your thighs, you found a rhythm that had your lips parted and barely audible gasps of pleasure spilling out. Bob was showering you with praise, and you noticed his hips falling into pace with yours.

In one smooth motion, you flipped Bob’s shirt over your head, leaving you completely naked. Although you weren’t close enough to see, you knew Bob’s irises were nearly eclipsing his pupils. Hell, neither of you thought it possible, but he was sure he felt his dick stiffen more at the sight of you.

A salacious moan escaped you when Bob changed the vibration pattern. Fortunately, you were able to take it in stride, tilting your head back, closing your eyes and moving your hands to knead your breasts. “Bobby.” His name was long, drawn out as it left your lips.

“C’mon, darlin’. Come for me.” Bob’s voice was low and restrained—he was absolutely holding himself back from finishing.

“Bobby, I need you.” You paused. “I need your help.” Your voice was whiny, pleading for attention you already had. Your gaze caught his as you leaned toward the phone, still rocking against the vibrator.

Bob picked up his phone, so his face filled the screen. “Lay back, darlin’. I want to see all of you.” Soothed by his voice, you settled into the pillows, awaiting his next instruction. “Now press the wand to yourself.” Again, you followed his direction. “Don’t move it.” Your hips jerked when he upped the speed of the wand without warning. “Don’t move it,” he repeated. “Let me do the work.”

With that, you let your eyes close and your head relax into the pillows. Bob’s voice filled your ears as your entire body began to come to a boil. Your breath shortened and your abdomen tightened. Finally, you peaked.

Seconds later, you heard Bob’s breathing pattern change as he also finished. You looked at the phone to find him laying back on his bunk with cum pooling on his stomach. “Mhmm, I wish I could clean you up.” You picked up your phone to get a better look at him.

He grabbed his phone and brought it closer to his face. “I wish I could be inside you. So warm, velvety…” he trailed off.

“Bobby.” Warning heavy in your tone. “If you don’t stop, you’re gonna have to find another 15 minutes right now.” His crooked grin appeared.

For a moment, you just sat in silence, in each other’s virtual presence. Bob was the first to speak. “Well, darlin’, I should get cleaned up.” You looked him in the eyes. “Glad we have a new toy to play with.” His smile reappeared.

“Me, too,” you added. “I’ll leave it connected so you can keep sending vibes.” You winked at him. Bob’s smile grew impossibly larger. With one final goodbye, you ended the call.

Sitting in his bed, you were startled when your wand vibrated, and then your phone. On your phone, Bob’s name was there with a new message: Just a quick vibe check. You laughed recalling the first time you had used a vibrator together.

Hopping out of bed, you replied to Bob. As you shuffled to the kitchen to get a drink and feed yourself, you browsed the web for a welcome back gift. A bluetooth-enabled vibrating cockring seemed like it could be well received. You pondered it for less than a minute before adding it to your cart and purchasing.

A perfect way to keep the vibes going.

Visit my masterlist for more | Sign up for my taglist, aka the Baddie™ Bunch!

The Baddie™ Bunch: @cherrycola27, @roosterforme, @galaxy-of-stories, @taytaylala12, @malindacath, @violyn20, @awildewit, @potato-girl99981, @shanimallina87, @i-simp-much, @blue-aconite, @djs8891, @linkpk88, @furiousladyking, @daggerspare-standingby, @princess76179, @jstarr86, @hecate-steps-on-me, @chicomonks

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

Note

Aita for making my friends drop another friend completely?

Warning: There is mention of suicidal thoughts. Also I swear a lot, I apologize.

This is some dumb discord drama but I feel like an utter asshole for this despite multiple people say I wasn't in the wrong and others saying that the friend group shouldn't had known about the situation and I shouldn't had forced this onto them.

And I been around here a lot, please don't excuse any behavior taken here as "You guys are young" or "You guys are kids." You will understand later as why but a lot of things that happened shouldn't be excused and that involves some of my behavior. And no, I am not doing a TL;DR.

There is a lot of pre-context so I will bold where the situation I'm talking about starts.

So me (17, he/they) and a few friends had created a server to get away from people in another server. We had really 1 rule which was "what happens in the server, stays in the server". This hangout server became a vent server very soon as a lot of us have issues that we just can't see a therapist for and use each other.

We had an issue with this one friend, let's name him Owl (14, M). Owl had been way to relaxed and some of the stuff he had said began to lead to fights within the friend group. He and another Jojo (15, M) were making jokes about each other, which were taken too far. Owl could had stopped it way before by stating that the jokes were too far but despite he had started it. He texted Jojo about their biggest insecurity in the form of "imagine having [insecurity]" and then hell broke lose. Owl knew Jojo was insecure about this because they talked and vented to each other privately, so for Owl to do that was shitty and a red flag that we didn't catch at the time, mainly because Jojo didn't tell any of us what was said till after the dropping. This was only one out of seven conflicts we would have with him before we got fed up. I will not go through all 7 but I will go through the ones that led to us removing him from the group.

I, Owl and a few others of us were playing a game on. I was very stressed and stated that beforehand and wanted to game to cool off. This was around the time that the Supreme Court made their decisions which added to my stress. I cannot remember what comment he made but my stress hit a peak and I blew up at him, possibly a joke about rights (trans rights) which is a touchy subject for me (it isn't out of his character). At this point I was having a breakdown on call and he didn't realize despite the fact it was clear through abnormal behaviors. Owl had also been around be in a breakdown beforehand, so I don't know how he didn't know. During breakdowns my voice becomes shaky and cracks, I speak very fast and make irrational decisions. Our other friends picked up on that and tried to deescalate the situations but Owl kept going and adding conflict until I removed him from the call (because both of us had admin powers). After a while I had gotten Jojo involved out of sheer panic and trying to get out of a conflict while not thinking rationally. After a while I rejoined call, Owl was gaming like nothing happened and I cried on mute due to the breakdown. Why I rejoined call? I don't know. Jojo pulled us to the side and talked about how he didn't want any more conflicts and that we would have our perms removed, Owl was informed that the breakdown happened and what he did made it worse, he didn't apologize for it at all.

The final situation we had with him before we dropped him was between Me, Owl, Jojo and Ark (Doesn't want age to be stated, M). Owl had lost all ways to communicate on call because of a dumb action he did that caused panic to another member (reading a classified document that another person found on Bing after being told to stop). He was clearly upset and during the mix Jojo had gotten a suicidal thought but Owl had encouraged his thoughts saying shit like "Why wait? Your life of pointless". Ark stepped in and bashed Owl for this behavior and the two got into a fight before we banned Owl.

Owl let the situation drag for 5 days as he didn't try to fix what had happened or apologized for any action he done up to that point unless the entire group was against him. The some of us got together and decided a last resort plan, we would stage an intervention and give him 3-5 days (which is being nice) to fix his shit or he would be dropped. We invited him to another server and we have the intervention there. He took a while to join, nearly 40 minutes. He was informed how important it was 20 minutes in and took another 20 to join. After that he refused to join call, which I understand but it was more so, he didn't want to because he saw no reason. I told him why, he got upset at the fact we were timing him. We had the mentality that he was on our time as he did waste 5 days not doing anything but letting the situation just hang. Me and him got into it and he said he didn't care about any of our friendships (even those not there) and he wouldn't mind being dropped if we were going to pressure him to apologize for things that here his faults and try to make amends.

We dropped him however I made the choice of informing others who weren't in on the plan and told them to drop Owl. This also meant Owl could not come to America to get his dream job which requires 11 years of training because he was dropped but not only Me, who would bring him to the states and house him, but also the person who was help pitch in for his college payments and student debt. I feel bad about informing everyone about what he had said and how he acted, which included people who had no idea what was going in the background. There were people coming back who hadn't been online this entire time and being told to get rid of him. I just feel like I shouldn't had forced that decision on them, especially as a person who had been dropped by an entire friend group like that. But we been doing a lot better without him and we try not mention the situation but as time has gone on, I feel more and more terrible at the fact I put other people involved and had them remove all contact to him instead of letting them decide.

Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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wordsandrobots · 4 months

Text

IBO reference notes on . . . queerness

How has it taken me this long to write about this aspect of the show? (He asked rhetorically, staring at the enormous amount of fanfic that basically stands as a thesis statement on how very queer this part of the Gundam franchise is [as opposed to all the other terribly straight parts, he added, sarcastically].)

Anyway, let's do it. Full spoilers up to the end of the show will follow, together with discussion of child abuse and exploitation, since that is what IBO is all about.

Special thanks to @lilenui and @prezaki for their invaluable assistance in locating sources.

Statement of caveats: this work is an amateur analysis of the English-language localisations (subtitled and dubbed) of a piece of Japanese media. I do not speak or read Japanese. I am myself bi, which qualifies me to be attracted to more of the cast than the average viewer, and have a working knowledge of LGBTQ+ history in the UK and USA, which tells me nothing about the cultural and historical context in which this anime was made. As such, I will not be addressing the behind-the-scenes production or the corporate mandates surrounding it but will focus narrowly on what I perceive to be present in the text (hereafter meaning both the script and animation, and any additional fictional details provided elsewhere).

Queerness in Gundam

Some background before we dive in. To my knowledge, the first character in the Gundam franchise to be intentionally depicted as LGBTQ+ is Guin Sard Lineford from Turn A Gundam (1999). An ambitious young aristocrat who spends the series on the line between hero and villain, he is infatuated with protagonist Loran Cehack and the show makes little attempt to play this as anything other than one man falling in love with another.

This is entirely one-sided and not appreciated on Loran's part, although that seems to have less to do with it being homosexual attraction than with Guin's high-handed and entitled attitude to life, filtered through heavily gendered social norms. For plot reasons, Loran spends several episodes cross-dressing as 'Laura Rolla', corsets and all, and Guin continues referring to him as 'Laura' long after the deception is no longer required, saying it 'suits him better'. Guin is eventually called out on this by a third character, who accuses him of forcing an idea of feminity on the other man rather than stoop to place himself in the position of a 'wife'. Objectifying Loran is presented as of a piece with Guin's overall flaws as a person, to whit, putting his own views about how things should be above the material reality and desires of those around him.

Guin is also the only explicitly gay character in the show (I'm honestly not sure how to classify whatever Dianna Soreil and Kihel Heim have going on, but it's certainly not labelled in the text). Therefore no counterpoint is provided to demonstrate healthy queer relationships. I don't state this to dismiss his inclusion: he forms part of a smart, nuanced plot thread, and Gundam creator Yoshiyuki Tomino had to fight to get Guin's homosexuality clearly included. But even so, Guin is a palpable step forward rather than a watershed moment, and the end result veers close to some nasty stereotypes about queer people imposing their desires on others.

There are other examples of characters transgressing gender norms in Turn A, most especially Loran's aforementioned cross-dressing. He is comfortable playing the part of 'Laura', in ways that mitigate viewing this situation as the extended joke it might be in another production. Funny moments do come up – particularly in the lead-in to his 'debut' as he acclimatises to the female attire of the show's pseudo-Edwardian setting and takes posture lesson – but he and the concept of a man in ladies' clothes are never made a subject of mockery. The same cannot be said for the character of Sochie Heim, whose attempts as a young woman to fulfil a gung-ho masculine role often turn comedic. This is part and parcel of her assaying militaristic modes of action, which are soundly mocked across the board. It nevertheless stands out next to Loran/Laura.

Further, Loran's status as a literal moon-child carries implications for his attitudes. His dismissal of existing social standards on Earth is very much presented as correct, and in keeping with what I know of Tomino's other writing and stated beliefs, but it dovetails unfortunately with a treatment of queerness as otherworldly, not something that may be found among an average population. We get another example of cross-dressing in the next-but-one series, Gundam 00 (2007, not a work Tomino helmed), where the usually male-presenting artificial lifeform Tieria Erde switches to a female presentation (in a ball-gown, no less) during a covert mission. This sufficiently parallels Loran's case, I assume it was a deliberate call-back, being as it is a disguise enacted by someone even less typical than a boy from the moon.

What I am driving at is that while Guin, Loran and Tieria may be characters who are queer or perform queerness in some manner, they do not necessarily represent an outright embracing of queerness as a mundane facet of everyday life.

Fast-forward to 2024 and the latest mainline Gundam show is a lesbian romance.

If you have been following my blog for a while, you will know I do not hold The With From Mercury in especially high regard. I think it is annoyingly messy, frequently half-baked, and, broadly-speaking, exactly as frustrating as I'd expect from the guy who wrote Code:Geass. It's still an explicit love story that opens with a clangingly blunt statement about the acceptance same-sex relationships and ends with the two female leads happily married to one other. For all its flaws, I genuinely think the central relationship between Suletta Mercury and Miorine Rembran is a nice piece of story-telling, not to mention admirably open about what it is doing. Like it or lump it, Gundam is gay now, properly, with a protagonist and co-protagonist who can be definitively labelled queer and whose romance appears entirely unremarkable for the setting (in terms of being same-sex; clearly there is a lot to remark upon otherwise).

I would be remiss if I did not mention that the conclusion of the series was accompanied by a certain amount of corporate arse-showing, with hollow attempts to walk back the ending seemingly for the sake of appeasing homophobic elements within and without the companies that produce Gundam. The frankly laughable nature of these actions stands testament to how unequivocal G-Witch is. It is flatly impossible in my opinion to interpret as anything other than flagrantly homosexual, and that's great.

Between this interesting but limited start and the full-throated present lies Iron-Blooded Orphans (2015), my absolute favourite and the show that got me writing slash fic after years of… not doing that. So: what is the deal with queerness in IBO?

Natural for a human

By my count, including all present spin-offs, there are three characters stated in-text as being attracted to people of the same gender (Yamagi Gilmerton, Iznario Fareed, Deira Nadira), two who are at the least open to the idea (Norba Shino, Mina Zalmfort), two whose mutual attraction is stated within the context of polyamory with a third person of the opposite gender (Atra Mixta, Kudelia Aina Bernstein), one whose sexuality is briefly hinted at (Chad Chaden), and one male character who is possibly not attracted to women (Orga Itsuka).

Let's get Iznario out of the way first, because the less time we spend on the actual paedophile, the better.

Lord Iznario Fareed is a rich, powerful aristocrat who sexually abuses young blonde boys and inadvertently sets large parts of the plot in motion as part of quasi-villain McGillis' backstory. In a lesser show, Iznario would be the embodiment of the 'predatory queer' stereotype Guin skirts the edge of. Here, however, he is very much not the only 'gay' character present and his proclivities demonstrate one of the many ways the world exploits vulnerable children, a core theme of the series. Early on, we see fleeting glimpses of young girls being pimped out on the streets of Mars. Iznario shows this social failing extends to the much richer Earth and although he is portrayed as the worst among the Gjallarhorn elite, they all abuse their power for personal gain. Thus, as much as the reveal of what he has done carries a certain shock value, it is not present purely for cheap impact. (This isn't the essay to discuss it, but the flashbacks to McGillis being abused as a child are a masterclass in how to frame such things around the victim, clearly communicating what's happening while avoiding gross voyeurism.)

I don't know how deliberate it is the canonical gay character who is shown in an entirely positive light fits the profile of Iznario's victims to a T, but it does underscore we're looking at a case of power allowing people to get away with hideous things, not a stand-in for queerness in general. To an extent I resent having to spell this out, since it seems so obvious Iznario is not fulfilling the role of a homophobic cliché. Sadly, the cliché exists and the point is worth discussion.

Moving swiftly on: Yamagi and Shino.

Yamagi Gilmerton is a small, quiet teenage boy with a somewhat withdrawn and acerbic personality, who spends much of Iron-Blooded Orphans nursing a hopeless crush on mobile suit pilot Norba Shino. Like the majority of the cast, Yamagi is a child soldier, but a mechanic rather than a combatant. Additional backstory commentary reveals that he struggled on joining CGS mercenary group due to his physique. Indeed, while this detail is not directly referenced in the anime itself, he is indeed drawn noticeably thinner than the other boys.

Again, we veer towards stereotypes, where a queer character is portrayed as weaker and more effeminate. Yet in spite of leaning this way in looks, Yamagi is an eminently capable person, never treated as lesser for fulfilling a support role rather than being a fighter. If anything, IBO goes out of its way to highlight how vital good mechanics are to mechanised warfare, and we see multiple examples of Yamagi being both assertive and kind of badass. At one point, he scales, unaided, an 18 metre tall mobile suit that's collapsed to its knees. When he and Shino are revisited in spin-off game Urdr Hunt (soon to be some form of animated production), he pilots a spaceship within an active battle-zone, flying escort for a damaged freighter as it retreats. In Season 2, he's comfortable ordering Tekkadan's new recruits around and is the first person to properly chew Orga out for his failings as a leader. Far from being an outlier among the protagonists, Yamagi is equally brave and dedicated to the cause, irrespective of his sexuality.

To be fair, he does tend to clam up and grow more awkward around the object of his affections. To be equally fair, he has the misfortune of having fallen for the most oblivious himbo on God's red Mars.

Shino is a big, boisterous warrior, the polar opposite of Yamagi in personality and physicality. He embodies Tekkadan's machismo, eagerly anticipating the chance to prove their strength and generally being a standard bearer for becoming the biggest, baddest group around. Things are not as straightforward as they seem on the surface, however. He shows a good awareness of when the group is in over their heads – going so far as to suggest retreat in the face of bad odds several times – and he is not nearly as sure of himself as he might first appear. He displays a wide streak of insecurity about his abilities as a soldier, reacting badly to people questioning his dedication or competency. And he crumbles completely when some of his comrades are killed as the result of a split-second mistake on his part, stating a wish to have died in their place. Thereafter, he acts in ways that read as choosing to take all the risks on himself rather than go through more loss. It makes him an interesting mix, someone who acts as a cheerleader, boosting everyone else's morale, while swallowing his own doubts and personal fatalism.

He is also presented as one of the most sexually active members of Tekkadan, using his wages to visit brothels to sleep with women. Indeed, he is frequently found extolling the virtues of the opposite sex, referencing collections of pornography (at least in the English dub), and generally being a very typical teenage boy about such matters.

Given this, you might assume Yamagi is longing hopelessly for a straight man. That is indeed the idea the show teases us with for much of its run (can something be straight-baiting? I feel if anything ever earned that title, it's this). OK, Shino's fond of Yamagi as a friend and frequently relies on his assistance in improving his fighting ability, and per ancillary material, is the one who got Yamagi transferred to the mechanics corps in the first place, rescuing him from struggling in the infantry. And sure, Shino spends an awful lot of time in very close proximity to Yamagi, including literally pulling him into the cockpit to assist with a mission. And yes, Shino is absolutely a flamboyant creature, sporting gold ear studs and an attraction to the colour pink, ensuring his mobile suits are painted all over magenta in order to stand out on the battlefield. And certainly, Shino is extremely empathetic, adjusting his attitude depending on his impressions of other people, such that he dials his boisterousness down in Yamagi's presence, displaying a far more gentle affection than he does with his other friends.

But clearly he hasn't noticed Yamagi is head over heels for him.

Right?

Well, towards the end of Season 2, during another moment where Yamagi is literally sitting on Shino's knee, Shino proposes the two of them drink together all night long once the fighting is over. Not only is this an unambiguously romantic overture (he's asking while pushing aside the fringe that normally covers half of Yamagi's face, in order to look into his eyes properly), it comes after a joke several episodes earlier in which Shino has to explain to a less worldly comrade that a girl inviting you for a drink is not a request to go out with the whole gang but a far more intimate gesture (I say explain, it's more expressing incredulity Akihiro didn't realise Lafter was asking him on a date). Later, it is revealed Shino did indeed work out that Yamagi 'likes' him (to his friend Eugene's exasperation that it took him so long to notice), and he reacted with amazed delight to discover there was someone in Tekkadan who'd fall in love with 'a guy like me'.

He'd assumed because Tekkadan is a family (a description provided by their ally Naze, which everyone just kind of runs with), romantic love wasn't possible between them. Having worked through this mental block and finally realised the blindingly obvious, he renews his desire to protect Tekkadan as long as he lives, refuting his previous view of himself as an expendable human shield and heading out with every intention of surviving all the way to the end.

And because IBO is an exquisitely-written tragedy, he is promptly killed while attempting a futile one-man attack against their enemies, his advances on Yamagi forming part of a long build-up whereby the boy who loves him provides the tools he needs to charge into a suicide run.

Right then. *drags out the reading comprehension soap-box* I have seen some people refer to this as an example of the 'bury your gays' trope, and there is nothing more likely to get me manifesting behind you in the form of an irate shoebill than to do likewise. 'Bury your gays' refers to a tendency for queer characters in fiction to disproportionately suffer tragic fates. This is a writing choice usually rooted in the idea queer relationships are inherently tragic, either because they are viewed as a perversion of 'correct' forms of love, or because of some misguided idea the prevalence of homophobia means queer joy is impossible. I am going to be charitable and concede this is indeed a case where one half of a budding homosexual relationship dies horribly. But, as always, the context matters.

All but one of the romantic relationships established prior to the epilogue of Iron-Blooded Orphans end in death. Of the two that survive in some capacity, one is a heterosexual background romance between two older characters and the other is a pair of women I shall be covering later. IBO is a story about child soldiers that does not shy away from the fact these are teenagers being fed into a meat-grinder. That the director's original intention of killing every named character was toned down (to the series immeasurable benefit, in my opinion) dos not change a narrative arc towards doom.

Within this, Yamagi and Shino aren't singled out for being queer. The coyness around Shino's eventually-evident bisexuality serves to generate an instant of hope and relief right before the rug is pulled from under everyone's feet. Where Shino's death does differ from those of other characters is in presentation: he dies alone and does not get any form of farewell or the passing-on moment afforded to others. But that is only to be expected, since we're talking about the point where it becomes clear there is no saving the situation. It's a cruel, abrupt moment of bad luck, puncturing the heroic idea of scraping victory at the last second. Shino flew out intending to live and he died anyway. A queer relationship forming part of what he was fighting for is an almost incidental detail.

(As an aside, I am aware of two other examples in Gundam fiction where a pilot and a mechanic have a doomed love affair. One is in Char's Counterattack, where a male engineer's romance with a female pilot ends with them both being abruptly killed, and the other is from Gundam AGE, where a female mechanic sacrifices herself for the greater good, leaving a male pilot to mourn her loss for the rest of the series. Shino and Yamagi reiterate this same concept.)

Stepping back from the tragedy, Yamagi's love for Shino is as delightfully underplayed as the other relationships in the show, with little emotional melodrama being wrung from the romance itself. Yamagi can't bring himself to declare his feelings, frequently turning cold instead and perpetuating Shino's misunderstanding of where they stand. Yet Shino ultimately proves enthusiastic for the idea, rendering moot any concerns Yamagi had over getting turned down (going beyond the text, a Q&A with the series' director confirmed Shino was written as bi). Equally, in the aftermath of Shino's death, Eugene comforts Yamagi by relating the truth of Shino's earlier realisation and even going so far as to rebuff Yamagi for implying there's something wrong with him for grieving. This and other interactions in the same episode imply those nearest to the pair were well aware of Yamagi's desires and had absolutely no problem with them. The prevailing attitude within Tekkadan is one of complete acceptance for its members and this is no different.

Indeed, for me, the most important part of how queerness is represented in IBO is that it is treated as just another aspect of the diversity of the cast. I've seen it stated that viewing homosexuality as a natural part of human existence was Tomino's motivation in making Guin gay. IBO presents us with the same idea, far more seamlessly and far more positively.

Now, let's leave the anime proper and look at the same-sex pairing from spin-off manga Iron-Blooded Orphans: Moon Steel.

Deira Nadira and Mina Zalmfort are part of the Gjallarhorn nobility and their marriage was arranged to strengthen relations between their two families. We see an example of a similar political match in the main show, where the heir to the Fareed family, McGillis, is betrothed to the second child of the Bauduins, the much, much younger Almiria. That this can take place regardless of the gender of the participants has big implications for the functioning of a bloodline-focused aristocracy. Presumably it indicates they are happy to use medical technology to ensure the Nadira family continues into the next generation, and if same-sex marriages are thus permitted, that means fewer factors to worry about when it comes to perpetuation. Whether male-male weddings are allowed too remains an open question; given the existence of real-world double-standards, it is possible Deira and Mina represent the only acceptable form of homosexuality. Nevertheless, that it is accepted speaks volumes. Gjallarhorn is not an especially progressive organisation, built as it is on rigid class structures and notions of human purity. Yet here we are.

Perhaps we should have expected that the norms around gender in this system don't correspond to strictly patriarchal patterns from the real world. Carta Issue, a key player in Season 1 of the anime, is the only child of the Issue Family's current leader and positioned as his sole heir, irrespective of the fact she's a woman. The logical inference is that any children of hers would count as Issues, rather than belonging to a potential husband's family. Deira is similarly the heir to her father's position, although intriguingly, it's not outright confirmed if she is his only child or simply the oldest. The possibility exists that gender is a non-factor in determining inheritance.

With respect to sexuality, Deira seems pretty obviously intended to be a lesbian. Her relationship with Mina is presented as one they are both happy with, despite it being an arranged by their parents, and Deira is depicted in the manual for Gundam Gremory's model kit as favouring the clothes of 'a handsome man'. She doesn't present that way within the manga' story, first showing up wearing the standard unisex Gjallarhorn pilot-suit, then wearing a formal gown for a meeting while in an official capacity. But she is depicted wearing masculine clothes in silhouette when initially mentioned and in a post-story panel at the back of the final volume.

(Another aside: the fan translations I use for this part of the manga refer to Deira using male pronouns when she's introduced. However, that could simply be down to the poor quality of said translation; she's consistently referred to using female pronouns in official materials and the game adaptation of this scene has her named as simply 'Lord Nadira', the standard appellation for Gjallarhorn family heads.)

Whether Deira's code-switching is the result of institutional expectations around her role or personal preference, it adds extra texture to her depiction. While civilian garb was designed for the adult version of Carta and closely matches conservative gender expectations for a woman, she's never shown wearing it, so we don't have a point of comparison to judge what's required of a character in Deira's position.

Regarding Mina, you'll notice I grouped her with Shino rather than the characters whose sexuality I consider to be stated outright. With Shino, the nature of his sexuality is not put absolutely beyond question in the text. This is splitting hairs due to the overt nature of what's on screen but the fact remains, the anime doesn't clarify if his being open to Yamagi's love means he already thinks of himself as bisexual, or if this is something he hadn't considered before. With Mina, it's more a case that I'm unwilling to label her one way or the other based on the available information. Deira carries sufficient signifiers, I find little room for doubt over the intention. We also have an outright statement that she holds great affection for Mina regardless of being obliged to consider her an eventual romantic partner. Indeed, she becomes so upset by believing her fiance dead, she runs off to Antarctica in a Gundam. But the exact depth of Mina's feelings in return is not discussed.

In addition, Mina is considerably younger than Deira. McGillis and Almiria's match takes place when he is (probably) somewhere in his late twenties and she is nine, with plans for the union made four years prior. This is not great, to put it mildly, albeit fairly typical of how such things have historically worked for nobility. Based on appearances and how they are treated by the rest of the cast, I would assume Mina to be in her mid-teens, and Deira to be in her early twenties (annoyingly, exact ages are provided for several characters in Moon Steel, just not these two). A less dramatic gap (and I don't believe Mina is meant to be quite as young as her appearance perhaps suggests), yet still significant when one of the people involved is below what we'd consider adulthood.

There is no indication of anything untoward going on, within the confines of the situation, similar to how we're given no indication McGillis is abusive towards Almiria. Any comparisons with Lord Iznario's activities lie purely along the axis of how children are exploited by adults even without suffering directly. All indications are that Deira and Mina have made the most of something they have little choice in. Regardless, I still feel more comfortable describing Mina as open to being in a relationship with another woman, rather than pinning her to a specific preference.

Continuing the theme of things where doubt or ambiguity exist, let's discuss some characters were there shouldn't be any: Atra and Kudelia.

I don't know about you, but I find it extraordinarily hard to read this as anything other than a three-way love-confession. Still, in the interests of fair play, let's review the wriggle room for declaring this something else.

Kudelia Aina Bernstein and Atra Mixta are love interests of nominal protagonist Mikazuki Augus, in an iteration of another tried-and-true trope, that of a male lead inexplicably being attractive to the female characters in his orbit. Or rather, it would be if the show didn't take such pains to demonstrate why these girls fall for him, setting up a long-established crush on Atra's part (rooted in him being the first person in the world to be nice to her) and a mutual respect on Kudelia's that gets spurred to more when Mikazuki randomly decides to kiss her because she 'looked cute' (Mikazuki has the manners of a feral stray raised on the streets, because that's precisely what he is).

Justification aside, this has the makings of a traditional triangle, that is, one without a connecting base, which we might expect to be resolved by either Kudelia or Atra 'losing out'. For a few episodes, this does indeed seem where we are headed. Then Atra discovers the concept of polyamory via the polygamous Turbines group and all bets are off.

Having realised it is perfectly possible for a family to consist of multiple romantic partners, Atra proceeds to work towards ensuring everyone gets everything they want. Strictly speaking, this doesn't mean she is attracted to Kudelia as well – even if she clearly recognises Kudelia as an attractive person from the start and…

You know what? Acknowledging that the information about their eventual marital status was only stated in interviews at live events with no official record and seems to have been framed around raising the son Atra has with Mika, I'm going to abandon the pretence of both-sided objectivity and go straight for the throat. Turns out my patience for soft-footing this lasts about as long as it takes to say 'bi-erasure'.

Over the course of Season 1, Atra not only decides the end-game is some form of three-person wedding, she also:

Shows no jealousy over Mikazuki and instead chides him for not providing the correct emotional support to the girl he kissed.

Spends a great deal of time with Kudelia and enthusiastically throws herself into furthering Kudelia's goals, without necessarily understanding the technicalities.

Covers for Kudelia by pretending to be her during a confrontation with Gjallarhorn soldiers, getting herself soundly beaten up in order to prevent them from chasing after the real deal.

Drives an armoured car through a battlefield for Kudelia's sake, safely delivering her to a vital rendezvous.

Leaps in front of a massive mobile suit to push Kudelia out of its path, physically shielding the other girl with her body.

As much as it pains me to resort to the 'if this were a man and a woman, would it read as romantic' crudity – yes! Yes it would! Especially since in Season 2, Atra presents Kudelia with a good-luck charm bracelet she has woven, something she previously did for Mikazuki explicitly out of having a crush on him. I'm all for embracing platonic love (which is why Takaki and Aston are not featuring in this rundown) and there's nothing in the above list necessarily entailing attraction beyond deep friendship. But when Atra consciously repeats her actions towards Mikazuki (someone she goes on to definitely have sex with) with Kudelia and it leads to the scene between them where they declare how they feel about each other and Mikauki, looking for non-romantic angles takes more effort.

After all, if we are to read Shino's openness to Yamagi's affection from the things he says and how he looks saying them, we can certainly do the same for Atra and Kudelia's use of the word 'like' in reference to one another and their reactions to hearing it said of them. (Obligatory note that if there is some nuance in the original Japanese the translation doesn't capture, I'd love to hear about it. The English scripts, however, leave little to the imagination.)

It is indisputable that Atra feels a strong affection towards Kudelia and while I have been focusing on her a lot (she is by far the most proactive member of the triad), Kudelia reciprocates at every opportunity she is presented with. Even if there truly wasn't an intention to portray this as exactly equivalent to Atra and Mikazuki, the end result manages to be on par with Yamagi and Shino. Consider Kudelia and Mikazuki, for example. In terms of portrayal and the two-girls-one-guy trope being explored here, they have the same level of chemistry and the same absence of overt consummation as Kudelia and Atra, and it would hardly be a serious position to claim the show does not place the two of them in romantic conjunction, now would it?

You may at this point be wondering why I am getting so defensive of reading Kudelia and Atra as romantic partners. Honestly, I am too. On reflection, I think it's because IBO is playing around with such a worn-out and insipid means of wringing drama from characters who should know better, I keep searching for the catch. And yet there isn't one. This show really did respond to a nascent love chevron by having the mousy, homely girl tell the governor's beautiful daughter to shut up and get in the polycule, and turned it into a true triangle.

That's wonderful. I cannot properly express the wave of joy and relief that came over me when I realised this was the direction they were taking. It ends in tragedy, of course, Mikazuki giving up any chance of a peaceful life to die in battle, far away from the women who love him. But their lives continue because of his sacrifice and by all appearances they remain together. In some ways, for the overarching message of hope persisting on the back of heartbreak, the precise details of that arrangement don't particularly matter. So why not take the gayest reading possible?

What an excellent segue into a blink-and-you'll-miss-it, probably-stretching-too-far, nonetheless-compelling potential bit of queerness: Chad in the series epilogue.

One of the many tertiary characters in Tekkadan, Chad Chaden has minor speaking parts throughout Season 1 and a larger role in Season 2. He initially appears during a particularly dire early moment when it looks like everyone is about to be killed by attacking mobile suits. His obvious resignation to this fate sets the tone for a rather dour personality, at least while on the clock. Chad starts out as human debris, a person enslaved after a space battle and sold to the CGS military group as free labour. This gives him a very matter-of-fact attitude towards fighting and the kill-or-be-killed nature of being forced into it – he voices the sentiment that even when facing other human debris, they can't afford to show mercy.

Off the clock, Chad displays a more sensitive personality. He seems studious, learning about interplanetary communications from Kudelia's maid Fumitan and later being promoted to leader of Tekkadan's Earth branch. He has some difficulty acclimatising to being treated as a free person, proving unsure about the concept of wearing a smart suit instead of his normal fatigues. And he grows anxious when he returns to Mars to discover nobody told him two of the few adults in the group (Yukinojo and Merribit) had started dating, worrying that he's no longer 'one of the guys'.

The most we learn about his relationship preferences prior to the series epilogue comes in a comedic sequence about a third of the way into Season 2, when Shino suggests a trip to a local brothel. Eugene responds by proclaiming that he's realised money will not buy him true love. This prompts Chad to ask Merribit if this is true and, on her saying she supposes so, opts out of the trip as well. Judging by his body-language in the next frame where he appears, this is possibly a decision he regrets – perhaps owing to his anxieties, since he just passed up the chance for some team-bonding.

None of this is directly relevant to the topic of this essay. If anything, the scene I just described suggests that, like Eugene, Chad has previously gone along with Shino in paying for sex with women, only to discover he wanted more than just physical intimacy. But then we get the exchange in Kudelia's office during the last episode, following a time-skip after Tekkadan's defeat and dissolution. Now working for Kudelia as an assistant of some kind, Chad notes that Merribit is shortly to give birth to her and Yukinojo's second child, saying he and Yamagi intend to meet up later to plan a celebration. Eugene reacts with amused disbelief, accusing them of just wanting an excuse to go out drinking, to which Chad retorts, 'what's wrong with that?'

And the thing is he's blushing when he does. Which may simply be because Eugene is accusing him of slacking off – IBO characters blush all the time and their embarrassment is frequently to do with being caught acting immature or otherwise against how they want people to see them. But given the weight that 'drinking the night away' carries in regards to Yamagi following Shino's actions shortly prior to his death, it is easy to speculate this represents something more specific.

As far as I can recall, Chad and Yamagi do not interact at all over the course of the show's two seasons, meaning these lines present a rather unexpected combination of characters. Eugene would have seemed a more likely candidate to associate with Yamagi. He's positioned as Shino's closest friend, he comforts Yamagi over his grief, and they are together for much of the climax to the series' plot. So what has happened in the years since, that Eugene's teasing should elicit a blush from Chad instead?

If we put on our shipping goggles, it's far from a nonsensical pairing. Chad goes through an arc not too dissimilar to Shino's. He is knocked into a coma while protecting an ally from a bomb blast and subsequently the Earth branch gets swept into a war orchestrated by one of the factions within Gjallarhorn. On recovering, he blames himself for the many deaths that result, echoing Shino's line about thinking it better if he'd died in place of his comrades. On returning to Mars, he jumps head-first into mobile suit training, determined to make up for his perceived failure as a leader and cheering himself up through rigorous activity. Different though their personalities appear on the surface, there are clear commonalities here. Further, Chad's responses to his traumatic experiences have a more measured quality to them than Shino's. He is not nearly as reckless and provides clear directions to his comrades even while acting as a decoy against a dangerous enemy, rather than abandon any attempt to be an effective leader. Taken together, and coupled to a more long-term view of romance, these qualities might make him a 'safer' version of things Yamagi loved about Shino, creating space for them to be drawn together.

Or perhaps they're simply the most logical points of contact between the ex-Tekkadan survivors at the Admoss Company and Kassapa Factory and intend to make that an excuse to get companionably plastered for no greater reason than it being a nice time. I am speculating over a couple of lines and an animation choice. Nevertheless, it does not feel like unreasonable speculation. When we already have a veritable gaggle of characters who are queer or may trivially be read as such, it's hardly a stretch to assume one more.

Chad/Yamagi doesn't appear to be a thread the fandom at large has pulled on much, likely because the pairing of Shino and Yamagi is so prominent, it eclipses a mere throwaway possibility. But I'm glad it exists within easy reach. And even if we take off our goggles, these lines demonstrate life for the characters has not stopped. The ex-slave and the gay kid are not stuck, trapped by the tragedies of their past. They have instead grown in both confidence and happiness and now have peaceful, stable lives where they're on going-out-drinking terms. That above all is why I wanted to explore this exchange: it reinforces Iron-Blooded Orphans' rejection of the idea the suffering people like Chad and Yamagi go through is perpetual or inevitable.

OK, one more character to look at. Let's talk about Orga and asexuality.

Orga Itsuka, leader of Tekkadan and instigator of the series' events, is notable for his charisma, his drive to provide a safe home for his comrades, and his complete unsuitability for the grown-up activities he attempts. Trying to party all night leaves him puking up his dinner. He forces himself into a suit and tie to handle the administration of a break-out paramilitary company, despite finding it stultifying and bewildering. His goals spin like a weather-cock, as he's surrounded by older characters possessing strong convictions while unable to stick to his own. And he is ultimately undone by an unwillingness to ask for help, having assumed that, as leader, he must decide everything alone.

I suspect his expressed lack of interest in women is intended to help convey overall immaturity. Orga is a good soldier and tactician, but he plainly isn't prepared for adulthood, lacking the grasp on the complexities of life that implies. Making him uncomfortable about sex serves to heighten the impression of a teenager trying to navigate circumstances for which he's not yet ready.

Relatedly, it should be stressed Orga stating he 'doesn't care' about woman is a response to Eugene asking if he agrees love and kindness are what's important, as opposed to Shino's endorsement of boobs. On hearing this response, Eugene proceeds to mock his commander for inexperience. That he himself has only just had his first sexual experience with another person and previously said much the same about not caring about sex simply proves hypocrisy is a fundamental aspect of Eugene's characterisation. The whole scene is very teenage.

Matters have not improved much when Orga and Eugene's dynamic is revisited in one of the side-stories released via the Iron-Blooded Orphans G mobile game. A year and change later, Eugene continues to act superior about having 'experience' where Orga doesn't.

Orga takes this rather poorly.

(Subtitles by @trafalgarlog)

Eventually Merribit has to shout at them to stop being brats, shaming them for behaving like argumentative children. It's funny – and then you remember they basically still are children and this is headed towards more carnage that will not spare them for being young. Such it is to engage with Iron-Blooded Orphans.

What does any of this tell us about Orga's sexuality? In principle, taking it as a device to convey immaturity, nothing. Orga's persisting virginity could simply mean he's not worked out this aspect of himself yet. He is a busy young man who likely hasn't had the time to try.

Alternatively it could mean he is gay. Mikazuki/Orga is an extremely popular ship in the fandom and we might take Orga's professed lack of interest in women as 'evidence' of him swinging the other way.

Or we could take my view, that Orga is asexual and his embarrassment is rooted in just not getting what the big deal is.

To immediately clarify, I don't think he is ace because he 'hasn't worked out what he wants', I think he's ace because he blushes on admitting he doesn't care about women and does not try to prove otherwise once he's in a position where he could easily do so. In circling back to the same joke for the side-story, the writers portray Orga as continuing to be uninterested in sex and sensitive over being needled about it. Again, a feasible interpretation is that he's into guys. Yet this is an argument with Eugene, whose response to the idea of Yamagi being in love with Shino is basically 'you mean you didn't notice?' Eugene is a dork and jerk; he isn't bigoted. None of the Tekkadan guys are. It's unclear if homophobia is even a factor in the setting. Sexism is, but when someone as superficially macho as Shino is comfortable with male/male attraction, and there are same-sex weddings inside Gjallarhorn, we cannot assume stigma exists around being gay. So why should Orga be worried, unless it goes beyond a question of who you're attracted to and into the answer being 'nobody at all'?

When you're surrounded by people who happily wax lyrical about how the joys of sex make you a real man, the absence of a libido might easily become a sore point.

Again, I'm supposing. Again, there is room to do so. As I touched on with Chad, it is easy to read queerness into the text when the assumption of straightness has been taken away, which is something this show does wholeheartedly and deliberately.

Orga Itsuka is one of the first characters I looked at and realised, not only shouldn't I assume heterosexuality, I shouldn't assume sexual attraction at all. I cannot credit Iron-Blooded Orphans alone with this. I do credit it with being a piece of media that applies itself to inclusiveness in ways quite remarkable for a show about giant robot fights, produced to market toys.

The word we want here is 'normalisation'. IBO has a lot to say about what constitutes 'normal' and a lot of it accords well with my own views, particularly those that have me twitching whenever anybody demands we 'be normal' about something. Normality is horrible. It is cruel and it is callous. 'Normal' is a world run on exploitation, on slave labour and on police savagery. Normal is children forced to risk their lives to earn the money required to feed themselves, because it is normal for their parents be gone, or incapable of supporting them. War is normal. Corruption of political systems is normal. Death coming more rapidly for those deemed expendable by society is very, very normal.

But so is protest. The drive to do something, to change things. The capacity for caring about each other. Love. 'Normal' is just a statement about what surrounds us every day, for worse and for better. In too many pieces of fiction, normality is narrowed, rendered a neater, cleaner picture, often excluding the kinds of people we might run into on the street, or walk past, or see on the news, distant and dehumanised.

Queerness is normal, yet for a long time it has been one of the first things to be cut out of fictional worlds. And when it is present, it's a big deal. An object lesson or a cry of triumph over breaking free of unfair strictures. I love stories about queer joy and victory. Heck, I'm a sucker for a good, soppy gay romance. But these aren't the only kinds of stories we tell. Sometimes we need to reflect the worst aspects of the world and what it does to normal people.

In attempting this, Iron-Blooded Orphans commits to an idea of 'normal people' that includes those who are gay or bisexual, those of colour and those we'd call white, the polyamorous, the illiterate, the desperate, the powerful, those who throw themselves into the fight with everything they have, and those who are simply kind. Those who are accepting, understanding and compassionate. Those who need to be accepted, who struggle to be understood, who suffer for a lack of compassion.

There are all sorts of people in IBO and – as a certain cheery, violent dumbass once said – man do I love it. I don't believe it is reading against the spirit of the thing to imagine more diversity than gets outright stated, to interpret one of the leads as ace or suppose another side character is bi or pansexual. It would seem entirely natural if they were.

Everyone's welcome here, down among the debris and the bloodshed, where hope is precious and fleeting and still somehow endures. So why shouldn't we raise a few extra pride flags?

Queer as in 'fuck you'

This all said, taken as a whole, Iron-Blooded Orphans is not a story about queerness or queer romance. Nowhere is this clearer than in its ending.

I skipped over the framing of the final scenes of the anime when I discussed Kudelia and Atra. They form a striking contrast with the ending of The Witch from Mercury, where the conclusion is directly focused around Suletta and Miorine's love for one another, their bonds of wedlock, and the happiness they have found together. This follows from the show being primarily about their relationship. In Iron-Blooded Orphans, the ending focuses not on Kudelia's feelings toward Atra, but those she has for Akatsuki, Mikazuki's son, with Eugene even saying she's eager to go see 'the man she loves', setting up a brief moment of uncertainty over who the character with Mikazuki's outline actually is.

The nature of Kudelia and Atra's relationship post-time-skip is implied rather than stated: in the English versions of the script, they do not refer to each other using terms suggesting they are married, although Atra has dropped her habitual 'Miss' from the front of Kudelia's name. They do not have wedding rings (redundant as those would be alongside the charm bracelets) and Akatsuki does not call Kudelia 'mom'. That they are raising him together is suggested very strongly, in line with Mikazuki asking Kudelia to be guardian of his child if he died. There are non-romantic ways of taking this idea, though, and none of these are closed off as viable interpretations.

But why should we expect some definite statement about romantic status when the point being conveyed is how Tekkadan's legacy continues to shape the world? This is a story concerned with the exploitation underpinning the world and the effort required to make even the smallest wide-scale change. It is about how people trapped at the bottom of the pecking order are still people, still human, messy and complex. It is about their pointless deaths, they ways they struggle on until those deaths come for them, and why they matter, even if the world forgets them.

Mikazuki, the living weapon, the human sacrifice for Orga Itsuka's reckless ambitions, leaves behind a child who will grow up in a more peaceful time, in a society slightly better off than when he and Orga were starving on Chyrse's streets. He doesn't live to see it; Akatsuki does. For all the failures, the attempt wasn't a waste. Don't you dare disrespect the people who died by saying it was.

This is where the epilogue centres, on Akatsuki and on Kudelia's cherishing of the world Mikazuki and everyone else built. Atra and Kudelia's relationship is there, a part of the gentler life they now have (Atra's desires were always towards the version of her existence where Mikazuki retires to a farm; here she fulfils the dream with Kudelia alone). It just doesn't need to take up space for the ending to land.

Yet, as I pour over how queerness is incorporated into Iron-Blooded Orphans, I find myself considering the struggles queer people face in reality. The victims of the AIDS crisis, dehumanised by indifferent institutions. Section 28 and the attempted destruction of knowledge around non-heterosexual forms of love. Riots and campaigns, voices raised loud and proud. How we are equated with dirt and corruption, reduced down to facts others find disgusting. The name-calling. The petty, pathetic posturing that makes everyday existence pointlessly harder.

So it goes for space-rats and degenerates alike.

I am lucky. My life is about as far from that of a child soldier as it is possible to get. My sexuality has been largely invisible. My gender matches the one most favoured by my society. I still have more common cause with those born in poverty on the other side of the world than I will ever have with the aristocrats and billionaires who shape the direction of my country. Because we hold many causes of misery in common. Because we share the same capacities for joy and suffering. Because our humanity is so easily cast aside by those we will never be able to touch.

There is always a place for stories uncomplicatedly about queer love conquering all. Equally, it is important to recognise the places queerness overlaps with stories about the many other ways the world casts people out. It is vital to be able to explore loss, futility and heartbreak. It is essential to capture why we strive onwards despite how heavily tragedy might weight us down.

We may be doomed. Our lives still matter. To ourselves, to each other and, whether they remember or not, to those who come after us.

So, no: for all the queer characters it contains and the many more we might trivially imagine queerness into, Iron-Blooded Orphans is not gay in the vein of The Witch From Mercury. It is not a happy story.

But it is a tenaciously hopeful one and, from certain angles, that alone looks queer as hell.

---------

Happy UK/US Pride Month – in honour and memory of Marsha P Johnson and everyone else who refused to go quietly.

I shall leave you with one of the least straight things ever to be included in any Gundam show.

[Index for further writing]

#gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #gundam #turn a gundam #reference #notes #queerness #queer love #queer characters #analysis #spoilers #queer is a reclaimed slur and a term I apply to myself #heaven help you if you think this is the place to argue about that

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luvly-writer · 10 months

Text

"XOXO"

Ch 8 She makes the whole place shimmer

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Author’s note: Long chapter ahead! I worked so hard on this and Chapter 9 so please, you are invited to let me know your feedback! Hope you all enjoy!!<3

Warnings: creepy men

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphantom @1lellykins

if you’d like to be added to the taglist; leave a comment below!

masterlist:

-•-

Y/n's leg kept bouncing as she sat in one of the rooms of the Gilded Hall. Her family had arrived early due to the fact that her mother and sisters were part of the organization committee. Yn was always in charge of the decorations and this year she had gone all out. The theme was red, gold, and green and it looked beautiful. She would have enjoyed her work even more if only her family hadn't invited Mr. Moris as well. The moment that he arrived, she had fled to one of the many vanity rooms of the hall. Still, in her white long furry coat, which she maintained to keep her beautiful dress hidden, she waited for Tim's text telling her that he had arrived. Finally, she hears the notification go off on her phone.

She sent Tim her location and soon, she heard him knock. She walked towards the door and let him in.

"Why are you still in your coat?" he asked taking a good look at her.

"I panicked and ran when I saw Mr. Morris making his way towards him. Plus I wanted to make a big reveal of my dress because no one else has seen it, " she said looking down and playing with her coat.

"Isn't that a bit dramatic?" he asked with an amused smirk.

"You dress up in a spandex suit and fight crime under the alias of a bird. Do YOU have room to judge?" she quips as she takes him in. Sleek black suit, grey vest and white dress shirt that fitted him just right. Sleek black pants with black shiny dress shoes as well. But that wasn't what caught her eyes the most...it was the very shiny, very glittery light blue tie he was wearing. She walks towards him and smiles.

"Your tie..." she whispers as she caresses it..

He looks down at her. Even with her heels, he was taller than her. "What about it?" he asked softly.

"It matches perfectly! My sisters are going to freak out. We will look perfect...AND AND IT SPARKLES TIM IT SPARKLES!" she smiled brightly and a part of Tim's heart wanted to keep that smile there forever.

"Yes it does, angel" he smiled.

"Let's go!" she took his hand and pulled him out. She led him around many different passages.

"How do you know this place so well?" he asked seeing as she finally reached one hall. He could see the entrance at the end of it and knew that she was going to defininitely going to make a big entrance.

"How does it look?" she asked and Tim finally turned to look at her. She had taken her coat off and was showing him her dress. True to her word her dress was light blue with a lot of sparkly diamonds. A true winter goddess. She was dazzling. She twirled in front of him and smiled.

"Breathtaking, angel. Doing justice to your name" he said with adoration in his eyes.

"What name?" She laughed and it really went straight through his heart.

"The ice queen" he answered, offering her his arm. "I still don't understand why that is your nickname seeing as of the three of you, you are the least that should be classified as a nightmare," he asked as you both began walking forward. Y/n stayed quiet, the dazzling smile she had on faltered a little. He was expecting one of her witty comebacks or another of her lovely eye rolls and yet he got silence and a sight frown.

“Sometimes you have to be a little bit cruel for people to take you seriously” she said looking down, “but that is not the topic tonight! Ready?”

she changed the subject, tugging his arm and smiling again.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said trying to move past that weird moment. He will store it in his head to investigate it later on.

Once they neared the entrance, the attention was on them. Paparazzi from everywhere were taking pictures and asking questions. Everyone wanted the latest insider on what was going on between two of the most prominent figures of Gotham. Y/n smiled and waved as she hugged Tim's arm tighter. Tim wanted to look at the camera but all he could do was admire her. They posed here and there, he smiled at them every once in a while, but his eyes would not leave Y/n. This made the crowd go even more wild.

Finally, they were beginning to get closer to the Vanderbilts. William Vanderbilt, Y/n's father, stood tall and imposing. He was known to be quite serious. Next to him was Franchesca Vanderbilt, Y/n's mother. It was obvious where Yn got her beauty from. Y/n had her eyes, fave structure, and hair. Not far from them were Aurora and Charlisse with their respective husbands. It is true what they say, there has never been an ordinary woman in the Vanderbilt family. They were all known for their remarkable abilities and breathtaking beauty. Not too far back, Mr. Morris was standing, sizing him up. Noticing this, Tim smirked and decided to pull Y/n closer, kissing her temple.

"Mother, father, sisters, what a lovely evening! I would love to present you all to Timothy, my boyfriend" Y/n said, showing him off proudly. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm smiling. His heart warmed at her affection, even though he knew it was for show.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. Mr. Vanderbilt, it has been a while. Ladies, you all look dazzling." said Tim as he flashed his most charming smile.

Yn's sisters smiled at the pair and shook Tim's hand.

"The pleasure is all ours, Mr. Drake Wayne. Our sister seems to be completely smitten over you," said Aurora, smiling softly at how Tim turned to look at Y/n and wink at her, causing her to roll her eyes playfully. "Let us hope that this pairing does both of you good." she finished and left with her husband. Charlisse inspected him lightly and raised her eyebrow at him. "That's the baby of the family, Timothy, one wrong move and I will have every private investigator in a 5-mile radius on you and leave you with nothing." She said with a big smile.

"Ever the diplomatic, Char. Let's leave the threats for another day, please, we are in public" responded Y/n. Charlise raised her nose and walked away. That left them with her parents, who had not spoken a word the entire time. Franchesca tried to give him a warm smile and seemed welcoming. On the other hand, William speaks up. "I hope tonight's dinner helps us get to know you Timothy, we have been anxious to meet you," he said. Something about the way he said anxious gave Tim a bad feeling. Not only that, the way Y/n tightened her grip on him made him grow cautious. What had he stepped into?

-•-

So far the dinner had gone fairly well. They had been seated at the table and people were mingling amongst themselves. They were placed on a straight table. Yn had been seated between Tim and Mr. Morris. To his left, were sat Aurora and her husband. In front of them, from left to right, were seated Charlisse and her husband, William, and Franchesca. He sat directly in front of her father, and Y/n sat in front of her mother.

They had gotten through the first two courses when William spoke up. "So Timothy, is it true you actually dropped out of high school?" Francesca turned to look at her husband scoldingly. Before she could open her mouth and excuse her husband, Tim spoke up. "Yes, I decided to drop out when Bruce offered me the position of CEO, I wanted to focus on the business." William's face stayed stone cold. Charlisse decided to continue with the question, "How ethical is it to place a seventeen-year-old in the position of CEO?" Y/n glared at her, knowing that her sister was playing the same game as her father.

"Pretty ethical, I'd say. He had been teaching me the ways of the company when I had recently turned 17, and he gave it to me a few weeks before my 18th birthday; meaning that when the paperwork was finalized I was legally an adult." Tim responded taking a sip from his drink. Y/n held his hand on top of the table and squeezed it in reassurance. She had warned him of the targeting they would have done to him.

"Say, and how has that gone for you?" she asked, "Surely a kid can't possibly be apt to take over and not lead them to bankruptcy"

"I'll have you know that Tim's mind is brilliant, Charlisse. If you'd been informed, you would know that Wayne Enterprises has done nothing but flourish and grow ever since Tim became the head of the company." Y/n defended. This wasn't the first time they piled up against a boyfriend of hers. (well fake boyfriend in this situation, but they did not know that)

"Thank you, angel. And to answer your question, Bruce went a few months shadowing me so that if I had any problems or questions, he would be there to help. He made sure the transition was as smooth as possible. I am completely grateful for him trusting me with this opportunity and helping me along the way" he answered. Your mother awed at that and smiled.

"I find that difficult to believe," said Charlisse and was about to ask another question when Aurora spoke up, "Charlisse, that is enough. He is a guest at our party, don't forget your manners," she said. Y/n smiled at her gratefully.

"Francis, old friend, what did you say you did this weekend?" your father asked smirking at the old man. You felt your heart drop a little.

"I took a trip to the Met Museum in New York. I had the pleasure of purchasing one of the most lovely paintings I have ever encountered. Are you all familiar with the Le Saule Pleureur?" he said and looked directly at Y/n. Tim felt her stiffen at his words and looked at her questionally.

"I'm afraid that I am not aware of how that is possible. Le Saule Pleurer is not a painting that is on sale," said Y/n taking a big sip of her wine.

"But it is. Your father put a good price on it and now it is currently being sent to my home gallery." Mr. Morris said, sending a chilling smile towards Yn.

Yn felt her heart stop. She looked towards her father and he looked down to his food, unable to meet her eyes. She turned to her mother whose eyes were filled with pity. Yn could feel a knot in her throat. "How could you?" she asked softly.

Tim felt his heart shatter at her tone. He looked at the young girl and placed his arm around her. He had no idea what they were speaking about yet he didn't press much. He decided to observe the room around him. Aurora looked horrified at the news and turned to discuss it with her husband. Charlisse was watching her father and sister intently, waiting for the next move. Something about her reminded Tim of a snake willing to pounce. Then her mother, reached out to Y/n and tried to place her hand on top of hers but only received a cold look. Her father was watching Yn intently, waiting for her next move and Mr. Morris was smirking at the scene. Yn was about to say something but her father cut her off.

"It is just a painting, Y/n. Don't make a scene now." He said dryly, "Besides if you wish to see your precious painting, you know the answer to your problem is clear as day". Everyone caught his insinuation. Tim had deduced that it was something of great value to Yn and the only way she would be able to see it was if she married Mr. Morris. "Father...." Yn began, but wasn't able to finish because the debutantes were going to be presented.

For the rest of the meal, Y/n would only interact with him and Aurora. Mr. Morris would try to make advances to her and she would cuddle closer to Tim every time. Finally, the dinner was over. The debutants and guests were invited to take the floor. Tim took this opportunity to bring Y/n away and give her some space to breathe.

He wanted to ask but refrained from doing so in a very public setting. He could feel Yn was glad that he had not asked yet. A few dances later and Tim went to look for some refreshments, leaving Yn alone to wait for him.

"Miss Vanderbilt" she heard someone call her. She turned around and saw Mr. Morris nearing her. She looked around for Tim but she was too late, Mr. Morris had gotten a hold of her.

"You seem to be constantly avoiding me, Miss Vanderbilt," he said. She saw his eyes scanning her body up and down. She hugged herself trying to place a little coverage. "And that saddens me, my girl. I have been nothing but kind to you all these years and this is how you repay me. I have held nothing but admiration for you ever since your were a child" he smiled creepily.

"Ever since I was a child? What is that supposed to mean?" she asked disgusted.

"I have held adoration for you, your remarkable abilities, and your beauty ever since you were a young girl, my dear. Have you not ever noticed?"

"I have Mr. Morris, and I believe it is hardly appropriate," she said timidly.

"Please call me Francis"He insisted.

"I'd rather not," she remarked, which made the man grow frustrated.

"Miss Vanderbilt, I can assure you it is appropriate, you are 21 years of age. You are surely a legal and consulting adult, I have been waiting for-"

"Surely, waiting for a minor to become legal must be considered an act of pedophilia by some people, don't you think, Francis?" interrupted Tim. He had heard some of the conversation and was absolutely disgusted by it. He had to intervene. Mr. Moris glared at Tim and made a displeased sound. Tim gave Yn her glass and wrapped his arms around her waist. Feeling Tim hug her from behind, Yn relaxed into his body. She felt safe around him.

"I suggest you stay out of the matter at hand, Timothy." He said, straightening his back to try to be at eye level with Tim.

"That is Mister Drake Wayne to you, Francis.. and of course this concerns me. My girlfriend is being weirded out by the flirtations of a man twice her age who refuses to take the hints of her clear discomfort and notice the clear boundaries she has placed." He said tugging Yn behind him, creating a physical division between Mr, Moris and her.

"You are in no good authority to speak to me as such. I will have a conversation with your father about this, Miss Vanderbilt. This is an insult. You will face the repercussions, Miss Vanderb-" he was cut off by Tim

“I can assure you she will not. Go near her again and I will have my lawyers and my father's on call by sunrise. You are familiar with the expression 'a Wayne never loses a case' am I correct? I will have you know if anyone in my family catches word of this predatory behavior you can say goodbye to your public standing because we will make sure your reputation will be considered dead. Have I made myself clear?" Tim seethed. You had never seen this side of him and were taken aback.

"You can't do that" said a trembling Mr. Morris.

"Yes. I. Can." stated Tim coldly, "I have the money and the standing, so test me." Everybody knew the Wayne's name was Old Money, so standing he did have. He was going through with his word and everyone knew it. Finally, Mr. Morris backed up with an angry face. Tim took Yn's hand and let her out. She was too in shock of the situation to say anything.

-•-

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