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hansolmates · 4 years

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remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae / @eerieedits for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

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“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room.

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,�� you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides.

“For fuck’s sake—”

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals.

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you.

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure.

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm.

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely.

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning.

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch!

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook.

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor.

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat.

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.)

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest.

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back.

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour.

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!”

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately.

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed.

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone.

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.”

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out.

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging.

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!”

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud.

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.”

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment.

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you.

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.”

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.”

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy.

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision.

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.”

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily.

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response.

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner.

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.”

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide.

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.”

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.”

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour.

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed.

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—”

“You’re deflecting.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.”

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?”

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely.

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand.

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—”

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.”

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.”

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?”

Fuck.

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties.

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?”

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand.

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.”

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.”

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex.

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles.

“I want to hear you say it, doll.”

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.”

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.”

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest.

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app.

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt.

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?”

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness.

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.”

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?”

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait?

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about?

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices.

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch.

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go.

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on.

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—”

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice.

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech.

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?”

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.”

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?”

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.”

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.”

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake.

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.”

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says.

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual.

“What?”

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.”

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.”

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices.

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch.

“It’s in,” you reply softly.

“Good.”

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable!

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer.

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm.

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line.

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?”

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here.

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly.

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting.

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…”

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!”

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.”

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips.

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.”

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.”

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking.

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?”

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.”

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?”

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!”

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?”

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—”

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you.

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice.

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass.

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.”

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking.

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of.

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.”

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot.

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator.

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—”

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.”

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?”

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.”

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later.

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval.

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts.

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.”

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply.

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.”

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent.

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out.

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.”

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!”

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you.

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands.

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?”

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.”

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.”

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.”

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.”

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.”

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery.

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest.

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.”

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook humor #bts fic #jungkook fic

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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

Text

Follow my writing blog @highqueenofelfhamewrites! Turn on post notifs there for more reliable updates, i don’t do a tag list anymore! Sorry folks. Master list is on my pinned post (use the google doc version if the other doesn’t work.)

Part one

Rowan could tell when Aelin was screening his calls. He could tell when she was busy with work around her family’s multi-million dollar company because it would ring through to her voicemail— words he could recite like a script by now.

Hi! You’ve missed me, which is horribly sad for you, but if you leave a message maybe you’ll be lucky enough for a call back.

Rowan never was.

He could tell when she saw it was him calling and chose to reject the call, sending him to the void of her mailbox. Every call went unreturned, every text he was quite sure was deleted as soon as it appeared on her screen. There had even been a handful of times that he’d knocked on her apartment door, each thud of his fist echoing into the sound of the television beyond. Once, he thought maybe she was going to answer, the door knob jingling like she’d wrapped her fingers around it and prepared to pull. Yet her soft footsteps had retreated. There was no getting through the golden girl who had poured fire and sunlight into his life after spending so much time sulking in shadow.

The worst part of all of it was that she couldn’t have been more wrong about their relationship, his feelings for her, about every bit of it. She had sent him away before he could protest and though he knew he’d had a moment to try, Rowan was also sure more than anything she wouldn’t have believed a single word out of his mouth. Instead of lazing in bed with Aelin the last few weeks, he had managed to endure the radio silence with nothing but a brooding attitude and shattered heart while he trudged through his days.

So when he spotted her coming out of her favorite coffee shop early in the morning, blissfully sipping the iced caramel macchiato that she had every day, Rowan had bolted across four lanes of traffic without a second thought of what he was doing. Car horns blared and brakes screeched as he ran, one car coming so close to hitting him that his hands slammed onto the hood of the car while he mouthed an apology he didn’t mean. He would have gladly let that car hit him if it’d gotten her attention. It said plenty about his desperation that he was willing to lose life and limb just to have her simply look at him.

“Aelin!” he shouted once, twice, four times while he jogged down the sidewalk. Bewildered eyes tracked the seemingly crazed man while he chased the woman down. A police officer had even taken notice, following at a brisk pace that Rowan was oblivious to. He was close enough to hear the click of her heels down the cement while she dutifully ignored every syllable of her name that exploded from his lips.

“Aelin!” he shouted one more time. Heads turned their way the same time his hand wrapped around her bicep and jolted her to a stop.

In her surprise, the grip on her cup tightened and the lid popped off, sloshing a chilly espresso drink down her bare legs and into her shoes. Rowan was sure he would have to grovel for ruining the patent black heels, but it would be worth it if she would just listen to him.

“Rowan,” she said, shock lacing her tone as she pulled an earbud free and looked down at her stained skirt and soaked toes. A frown had tugged her lips into a frown as the officer caught up with them, hand going to Rowan’s chest like he intended to put space between them.

“Is everything okay, miss?”

“I— what? Yes. Of course. Thank you.” Her voice was vacant but dismissive while she waved her hand nonchalantly, eyes not leaving the ground. The officer looked skeptical but finally distanced himself by trailing a few feet away. As annoying as it was, there was a surge of comfort knowing if he had been some creep, someone would have stepped in for her sake.

“You can’t drop some bomb like that and then ghost me.” Sure, there were more delicate ways to put it but Rowan was beyond that. With her eyes still averted to her feet, frustration was boiling under his skin. What the hell was it going to take to get her to look at him? Just as he was willing to kneel at her feet to catch her eyes, she looked up at him with that frown pulling even tighter.

“There’s coffee in my shoes.”

“I’ll buy you some new godsdamn shoes if you’ll look at me for five minutes and let me talk.”

“And then you’ll leave me alone?”

“If that’s still what you want when I’m finished, yes. I’ll buy your shoes and leave you alone.”

Aelin’s mouth twisted to the side while she thought. Despite the offer, Rowan could see the hesitation in her eyes, that golden core of her iris flickering like a flame.

“Fine,” she said, finally. Her arms crossed over her chest, freshly painted black nails digging into the white button down shirt she wore. “You have five minutes or less. I have to get to work.”

The tone of her voice was strong and tense, but the anxious bouncing of her foot and the way she was wiggling her fingers along her biceps to a melody only she could hear. It was a habit, he noticed, that when she got anxious she would drum her fingers along to the Stygian Suite to keep her emotions at bay. He wished she wouldn’t.

“You are… I’m so mad at you, Aelin.”

“You’re making really good use of your five minutes, I—“

“Would you let me speak?” Aelin’s mouth snipped shut, jaw popping from the tense lock.

“I’m so mad at you. For about a hundred different reasons but mostly thinking you could tell me you were in love with me and then not letting me have a single word in. For telling me you love me and making me leave in a way that I knew if I stayed to fight it would only make it worse. And then as if that wasn’t enough, you stopped talking to me. Stopped taking my calls. Stopped answering the door. Told Aedion to stop giving me updates about you because I didn’t deserve to know. Which is so much bullshit, by the way.”

“Do you have to yell at me like this in public?” Her voice was soft, eyes downcast at her coffee sodden shoes. Rowan glanced around for the first time, taking in the small crowd that had stopped their busy morning to see what the commotion was about. It was then, with her bottom lip quivering and an audience around them, that he pulled her hands from where they pressed into her arms. Rowan guided them around his waist even though she resisted, then took her face in his hands with heartbreaking gentleness that made one of her tears finally slip free.

“I’m sorry that I yelled,” he said quietly, bending down to kiss another fallen tear. “But, baby, I have been in love with you since I met you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“You love me?”

“If you had just told me like a normal person—“

“Chasing me down the street in downtown Orynth and shouting at me is like a normal person?”

“Desperate times. I almost got hit by a car. You missed the good parts when you had your headphones in.” Instead of laughing like he hoped, Aelin reared back and immediately began to inspect him.

“Hit by a car!? Rowan Matthias!”

“I’m fine.” Aelin huffed, pulling away from him and folding her arms back over her chest. Rowan’s hands slowly fell back to his sides, desperate to hide in his pockets from what felt like a rejection. A stern look that he’d seen several times on her father’s face took over her features, setting them in stone while she tapped a sloshy toe.

“Be that as it may, you got something in your story wrong.”

“Have I, now?”

“You have. See, I never told you that I was in love with you. You jumped to that conclusion all on your own, and—“

Rowan couldn’t help it, he started laughing as the corners of her mouth began to twitch. He took her face back in his hands and leaned down to kiss her, something slow and sweet and full of promises he couldn’t keep in the middle of a busy street.

“Don’t make me drag you home and coax a confession out of you,” he mumbled into her mouth, sweeping his tongue in lazy strokes that he knew she liked on other parts of her body.

Aelin’s lips spread into a full grin as her arms settled around his neck, the remainder of her coffee dribbling down his back and seeping through to his skin. He couldn’t find a single reason to care as she whispered, “I was kind of counting on it.”

#rowaelin #fragments #fragments pt 2 #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin angst #writing #my writing #throne of glass #tog #fix it fic #tog fic #throne of glass fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #rowan Whitethorn #Aelin Galathynius #Aedion ashryver #rhoe galathynius

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starryeyes2000 · 3 years

Text

Do You Know What Day It Is?

Status: Complete

Pairings: Christopher Pike x Fem!OC

Rating: Teen

Word Length: 1.7k

Summary: A fluffy Valentine’s Day story with a bit of romance, a bit of domesticity, a bit of humor (I hope), and a certain Vulcan following his Captain’s instructions.

For my friend Meghan who requested a Pike/Aalin first Valentine’s Day story.

ooooo

Aalin was surprised to find Chris dressed in civilian clothes and puttering around their quarters when she returned from her shift. “Are you ok?” she immediately asked concern evident in her tone.

“Of course, why would you assume otherwise?”

“You’re not usually done with work this early.”

He walked over, circled his arms around her waist, and leaned down for a kiss. “Do you know what day this is?”

“Monday? Days kind of run together on a starship roaming through space.”

“Well, yes, it is Monday. But I was referring to something more significant than the day of the week,” he prompted while unzipping Aalin’s uniform jacket and slipping it off.

“Some sort of sort of ship-wide holiday?”

He kissed the side of her neck and nipped at the spot where her shoulder and neck meet. “No. But that is an intriguing idea.”

She sniffed delicately. “You’re making dinner?”

“Yes. For my beautiful wife as is appropriate on this day.” Chris pulled her closer and swayed them in an impromptu, musicless slow dance. “Why the smile? Did you figure it out?”

“I still haven’t the slightest idea what day this is, but I like it already.” Aalin reached up and caressed his cheek, then ran her hands over his shoulders and down smoothing the soft material of his light grey turtleneck. “It is chilly in here.”

“Yes. You should put on a sweater. Go change while I finish putting things together.”

By the time she returned dressed in soft clingy black pants and a sweater the color of a dusky blue desert sky, the lights were dimmed, and candlelight flickered. The chairs which normally sat opposite were now arranged on adjoining sides of the table, as close to its corner and each other as was physically possible. Between them one place setting was laid with two sets of silverware. Aalin didn’t remember when the habit began, probably on a lazy morning with breakfast in bed, she thought. But now, as often as not, they curled up on the couch during dinner, sharing a common plate and trivialities about their day. There is something amazing intimate when personal space melds together when eating a meal.

Chris held out a chair dropping a kiss on the top of Aalin’s head while settling her into it. She queried as he brought two dishes from the small kitchen area, “Is there a problem with ship’s power?”

“Ah no. Why do you ask?”

“The chilly room. I thought maybe we were conserving again?”

“That’s fixed. I purposefully lowered the temperature in here.” Dimples making an appearance he added with a playful grin, “Makes for cozier snuggling.” He poured her half a glass of wine. “Though we’re splurging, this is your limit for the evening,” he said firmly.

“You’re never going to let me forget that night, are you?’

“You almost fell off the transporter platform,” he reminded.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she protested.

“No. But like Vulcans and chocolate, even a small amount of alcohol goes to your head.” Taking his own seat, Chris clasped her hand and kissed its palm then the wrist before twining his fingers with hers. He speared an orange from the salad offering Aalin the bite.

“You made my favorites, thank you.”

“Dessert is new. And before you start with the questions, a surprise. I’ve been tinkering with the idea for a while.”

She pretended to pout. “Not even a hint?”

“Red. Which is also a clue to the other mystery you are pondering.”

“I give up. What day is this?”

“Valentine’s Day.” Chris paused. “I know it fell out of mainstream favor nearly half a century ago, but my folks still celebrate it, they always have. Every year, no matter what was happening in our lives, they bundled me off to grandparents and spent an evening and night focused solely on each other. I assume your mother and father did not.”

“Half the time my parents aren’t in the same city as the other, so I doubt it.”

He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze before letting go. “Perhaps it’s corny. But I like for at least one day in the year, a day that isn’t uniquely special in another way such as an anniversary, laying aside all else and prioritizing the most important person in your life, the one you cherish. I want that for us.”

“That’s …” Aalin stopped, eyes dewy and shining. “That’s one of the loveliest things anyone has ever said to me.”

Chris cupped her chin and rubbed his thumb across her cheek, brushing away a tear snaking down it. Then he refocused them on dinner. “If they are so often apart, how did your parents manage to have and raise five children?”

She chuckled. “Just in case you missed the birds and the bees lesson at school, making the child doesn’t require more than a few minutes of, shall we say, mutual time.”

It was an evening of layered intimacy; kisses and touch, a meal shared, conversation about random inconsequence things, laughter, confidences exchanged, stretches of comfortable silence without the need to fill it. They nestled on the sofa; Chris’ arm draped around Aalin’s shoulder, his fingers idlily stroked her arm. Her head rested on his shoulder. Soft jazz, the romantic kind, a la Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, and Ana Caram played in the background.

Aalin laid her hand on his chest and sat up. “Who’s minding the store?”

Chris tried coaxing her back against him. “Spock. He’s taking the evening and overnight watches. It will be good experience for him.”

“How did you get fresh raspberries?”

“The last planet we surveyed. Not true Terran raspberries but very similar. Chef took a cutting from the bush. The botanists think it’ll grow in the hydroponic bay. Scary movie?”

She pushed further away. “Seriously? Isn’t that a predictable cliché? The frightened girl falls into the handsome man’s arms?”

“If I may point out, you were in my arms. I’m simply trying to get you back there,” Chris replied edging closer. “Or …” he gently pushed Aalin down until her head rested on the pillowing leaning against the sofa’s arm. He hovered over her propped on his right arm, weight balanced on that arm and knees, left hand roaming her hip and side. They kissed. Stopped for a breath. And kissed again. The kisses became increasingly penetrating and erotic, blurring the boundaries between them. For both it felt as if time had suspended, as if they had the ship to themselves …

The door chimed.

Chris broke contact long enough to whisper, “Ignore it.”

A second chime sounded.

“Go away,” he called out in his firm commander’s tone of voice.

“They can’t hear you,” Aalin interjected.

He grinned. “Ok then.” He pitched his voice louder. “Go away, I’m making love to my wife.”

Through their five months of marriage, Aalin was learning her husband had an impish playful side. It didn’t surface often, at least not on the ship. She often wondered if this aspect of his personality would be more apparent when on leave.

The response was a third chime.

“If it were important, the bridge would have called,” Chris assured. He added stressing the first words, “Via the intercom. Meaning it’s either someone with a last-minute request they’re hesitant to take to Number One and therefore be on the bad end of one of her preparedness and planning ahead lectures, or it’s Phil intent on mischief.” His hand snaked up her sweater. “Now, where were we?” He trailed kisses across her collarbone and down.

A fourth chime rang out.

“Have you considered whoever is out there will become concerned and get security or medical to override the lock?” Aalin warned as she half-heartedly pushed him away.

“Isak’s married, he’d call first to double check. As for Phil … damn …”

She sat up and straightened her clothes while Chris trudged to the door. He, in a humorless tone of voice, groused as the doors swished open, “This better be important.”

“It is sir,” Spock responded.

Chris crooked his finger and the Vulcan leaned closer. “I told you not to interrupt me for anything but an impending supernova.” He paused. “A big one,” Chris added with emphasis. “A really big one. A record breaker. One never before seen or recorded.”

“Captain, many supernovae have occurred unseen by Federation eyes and undetected by our sensors,” Spock pointed out and then pronounced, “Therefore your criteria are flawed.”

Chris’ head swiveled towards his wife as she tried to suppress a chuckle. He scowled at her. That unleashed her amusement.

Spock continued, “However, indeed, I am here to report an impending supernova.”

“How close?” Chris demanded.

“To what are you referring sir?” Spock inquired.

“The …” damn, Chris thought before continuing, “star that is about to or has already exploded.”

“I see. Close enough.”

The Captain took over and he interrogated in rapid fire, “When will we intersect with the aftereffects? Can the ship be adequately shield from the path of destruction? If not, can we go around it?”

Spock answered the questions in order. “We shall not. Shielding is unnecessary. There is no need.”

Chris’ mouth gaped open for a second. Confused, he tilted his head tilted slightly to the side. “What?!?”

“We shall not. Shielding is unnecessary. There is no need,” Spock repeated in a serene monotone.

“No … I … mean,” Chris sputtered. “If this phenomenon is not a danger to the ship, then why, exactly, did you come to here, at this moment, to deliver a report about it?” Immediately Chris realized his mistake as Spock explained, in precise detail, his reasons.

“… In conclusion, it is a uniquely interesting supernova meriting closer study and therefore …”

Chris held up a hand. Spock paused. Chris said in a less than patient tone of voice, “Very well. Study it. Wake the rest of the ship if needed.” He keyed the doors to close. As they did, he added, “You can tell me all about it in the morning.”

“I shall prepare sir,” Spock promised.

Returning to Aalin, Chris held out his hand. While leading her to the bedroom he remarked, “Next year we’re bundling a certain Vulcan off to the grandparents.”

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother

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helenazbmrskai · 4 years

Text

Shush

Wow. I think this is the filthiest and the most messed up shit I’ve ever written in my whole life send me holly water pls (after you enjoyed reading this duh) I don’t know how this idea popped up in my mind one night but yeah don’t come at me.

💊Title ‹ Shush ›

💊Pairing ‹ Jimin x OC (f) ›

💊Genre ‹ adopted brother au, forbidden/unhealthy romance, smut, angst ›

💊Summary ‹ Forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest and when the fruit comes in the form of an innocent boy it’s even sweeter. ›

💊Warnings ‹ emotional manipulation, discussions about an incurable disease, unhealthy relationship dynamics, some fluff, multiple smut scenes filthy so be aware!, mention (and brief description) of sexual fantasies, sub! Jimin, soft domme! OC, teasing, mention of porn watching, brief imagined masturbation, corruption kink, first time, virgin! Jimin, blowjob, handjob, good boy Jiminie, jealous OC, oral (f), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this be safe!), exhibitionism, marking/biting, almost getting caught, dirty talk, riding, pls keep in mind that this is only fiction! don’t do this folks ›

💊Word count ‹ 6k ›

💊Masterlist

Brushing the snowflakes off my coat’s shoulder, I take a look around the spacious living room soaking in the warmth and waiting for my fingers to defrost, hearing nothing besides the wind that blows outside. Checking the clock on the wall I recall that mom should be still at work at this time around, nothing’s new.

I silently make my way upstairs then halting once I’m in front of Jimin’s bedroom door that has a big J on it. Mom would be upset if she knew I didn’t check on him first thing when I got home so I knocked once then twice before I heard muffled noises from the other side and the shuffle of sheets followed by a loud bang of something hard suddenly hitting the ground. The sound itself quite concerningly rings in your ears.

”Are you alright?” I place my palm on the wooden surface concentrating on the noises that I faintly hear filtering through the door, biting down on my lip as I still didn’t get an answer from him.

”Ok. I’m coming in!” I tell him after a couple of seconds of silence, I gave him enough time to yell out that he’s fine. I’m ready to burst through the door when his voice squeaks out a tiny unconvincing ’I’m good.’ but my hand is already on the doorknob. His body lays slightly off the bed when I enter his room, the bed under him is unmade and his hair is dishevelled sticking to different angles from all the tossing and turning looking soft, wearing only a thin white shirt and pyjama pants to bed. Probably haven’t gotten up from it all day.

”You fell off the bed again?” I chuckle, sending him an amused look spiced with an arched eyebrow – it’s not the first time I see him in this position – shaking my head from side to side, though my eyes reveal that I’m not angry just amused. I grab both his knees and help him to lay flat against the pillows just like he was most likely laying before. His eyes glow like a lightstick with a beaming smile on his face.

”Y/N, you’re home early.” Arching up a brow himself he situates his body to rest his back against the headboard interrogating the cause of my early arrival with a slightly hoarse voice. Jimin looks into a specific direction frequently enough for me to spot his staring. I reply to his statement with a roll of my eyes brushing his hair gently to the side after I checked he indeed has no fever. Giving him the benefit of the doubt that I have no idea he’s trying to hide something I smile back.

I scan through his room hoping to find out by the order of things are placed what he was doing before I got home, it’s easy to spot the differences since I’m the one who usually cleans in here but besides his laptop that sits on the far end of the bed instead of the desk, nothing else seems out of place.

”Why? Were you doing something you shouldn’t be?” I grin, at first the question was intended to be innocent but watching how Jimin’s face contorts into a scandalized look I know he’s up to no good. His expression soon gets replaced with shyness unintentionally a boyish blush spreads across his rosy cheeks. It gets me even more curious.

He gained some weight over the past weeks so his features are almost healthily filled out, the new medication seems to work better than the doctors had anticipated and right now he has minimal symptoms.

Mom must be pleased by the outcome, he regained so much colour to his pale skin too. I witnessed all his ups and lows, I still remember the day I met him. He was in a bad shape, bedridden, so pale and skinny like a skeleton. He couldn’t even sit up on his bed to greet me and when he opened his eyes hearing my mom’s voice calling out to him I came face to face with his teary eyes, hands grabbing his chest to ease the pain that he felt crawling his way up from under his ribcage as a silent tear rolled down his cheeks. He got better when mom decided to take him out of the care system and switched doctors to look after his further treatment.

I regarded him as a responsibility at the beginning of our relationship made sure he took his medication between meals just like my mother instructed. Cleaned his room and made him food when my mother was busy with work. She’s a nurse at the local hospital, she left me alone with him a lot, her job consumes a lot of her time so I had to take care of him almost every day after school even had to take a few days off so I can stay at home when his condition started to get worse and he needed more supervision than usual.

Be that as it may, he had his better days that I started to like so much, spending time with him stopped being an obligation and instead, the time spent together started to be the highlights of my days.

Listening to his angelic laugh, having him listen to me talking about my day. No boy or man ever paid this much genuine attention to me, only him. He has his eyes only on me.

His fierce response makes me come to my senses, dragging me out of my own consuming thoughts.

”Of course not!” He defensively spats my hands away when I try to pinch his cheeks. He looks very pretty when the sun shines on his face. He looks like an angel.

”Oh really? I guess it’s fine then to show me your laptop’s search history. How about right now?” I move faster than he can snatch the device so I’m able to get it and open his tab before he even lets a leg down to plant his feet on the ground.

However, I was not expecting to find something this interesting in his log history. Looking between the screen and his red face I tilt my head to the side seemingly deep in my thoughts. It’s not that I never acknowledged the fact that he’s a man in his mid-twenties and because of his unfortunate susceptibility to having a systemic autoimmune disease he never had the chance to socialise like it’s a norm for most people. The only other’s he meet day by day are my mother and I since he can’t go out because of his photosensitivity.

Maybe I could blame the stars that never flickered out of his naive eyes for the past ten years I’ve known him for not thinking that Jimin could have dirty thoughts. Well, this porn page clearly states otherwise.

I know it’s inappropriate to think about Jimin, my adopted brother, in this way but I can’t find it in me to stop the spiralling thoughts.

Wondering if he masturbates while watching these videos when I’m in school. How he grabs his cock with shaky hands, cute fingers coated in his precum. Wondering if he uses the same hand to hold mine innocently after he did dirty things to himself. I subconsciously rub my thighs together to ease some of the tension that gathered between my thighs, even fantasising about him makes me feel hot.

I feel bad thinking about him inappropriately when he’s sick but I can’t seem to feel the shame when I look directly into his bright eyes now. The rational part of my brain screams that it’s inappropriate even though we are not blood-related.

Heck, not at all as mom adopted him when his last remaining family member, his father died ten years ago.

Jimin’s facial expression is like an open book I read him so well. Poor boy can’t even lie everything he thinks about is apparent on his pretty face.

Afraid that I’ll call him names he lowers his gaze, waiting for me to tell him that I’m disappointed and disgusted by him now that I discovered his dirty little secret that he rubs one out to porn but oh boy he has no idea. That I think about him in a way a sister shouldn’t. That there is nothing wrong with being curious. He has all the right to be. It’s easy to forget he’s older than me when I’m the more experienced one in everything.

”Hey it’s ok,” I get to my previous position, sitting down on the edge of his bed right next to his waistline. I curl a finger under his chin to level his face with mine, showing him a small smile indicating that everything’s gonna be alright.

”I watch porn sometimes too, there’s nothing to be ashamed of here Jiminie. It’s only natural to be curious about it. It’s human nature.” He avoids making eye contact but a tiny nod in my direction shows me that he’s listening.

”If you want I promise I’ll forget that this ever happened. Do you want that honey?” Nudging his pinky with mine I offer him the chance to change the topic to something light.

”You won’t tell mom about it, right?” Nodding my head in agreement I assure him that this piece of information can be our secret and no one has to know that this conversation ever happened. It appears to calm him down gradually as he finally reciprocates my gaze and sighs in relief. What you didn’t expect to hear after that, however, was an explanation of why he started watching porn.

”I want to know how it feels.” Jimin admits shyly, looking around to avoid my eyes as he tells me his hidden thoughts and I find him truly endearing. The previous tense atmosphere seems to completely fade away as Jimin relaxes his muscles against the bedsheet and opens up his heart.

”What? Sex?” I asked, watching his reactions closely as I experimentally place my palm above his right knee. An innocent touch.

Jimin shivers into the contact but other than that nothing remarkably changes in his behaviour or posture. He pays careful attention to not let his feelings show up on his otherwise expressive face. Cute. Sooner or later I’ll know how he really feels about my advances as he can’t keep pretending for long. He was never good at it.

”Yes. They seem to like it so much when I’m watching those videos.” Humming approvingly I rest a manicured nail at the edge of his waistband, this earns a sharp inhale of breath but he doesn’t try to remove my touch that indicates he’s not uncomfortable with me touching him. He doesn’t seem bothered, just a little sheepish.

”You know, a video is nothing compared to the real thing.” I let a single finger slide under his shirt drawing circles into his hipbone eyes watching the way his chest moves up and down a little faster at that.

”What a shame that you don’t know pretty girls to have sex with.” Deciding it’s time to remove my hand I’m letting the limb fall to my side lazily. Jimin’s lips immediately form a pout after I stop making advances on his body, showing me that he was expecting something more. All this time I thought he doesn’t see me like I see him but maybe I was wrong assuming that. Gaining confidence I decide it’s time to push his buttons a little more.

”I’m sure girls would form long lines to get into your pants baby. I wouldn’t be surprised since you are so pretty.” The praise makes his ears bright red, mother did a good job with giving him a boyish undercut a good fashion choice to leave the tips longer so I can easily comb my fingers through it, curling a few strays behind his ears.

”Y-Y/N.” A breathy moan leaves his lips as I kiss the underside of his jaw on impulse, finding stability by grabbing onto his thighs to lean closer and breathe in his clean scent. I push him against the headboard but he doesn’t mind it at all, too lost in the moment, feeling my lips on his throat to register any pain.

I pull away slightly to reconnect our eyes. Jimin licks his dry lips, not having anyone to talk to until I arrived home, he kept his mouth shut only feeling now how dry his throat is all of the sudden.

A ghost of a smile appears in the corner of my mouth as I realise Jimin is watching my lips not even trying to conceal his desire to have another taste of the forbidden fruit. This is so wrong but his lips are so light against mine, afraid that if I apply pressure somehow this moment will end and I don’t want this to ever end but as the saying goes, nothing lasts forever in life.

The magical moment ends when I hear my mother’s voice from downstairs. ”Y/N, Jimin I’m home!”

The cheerful voice of my mother abruptly interrupts our first shared kiss, not letting him chase the taste of my cherry lip balm I place a small peck on his nose instead yelling back that we’re upstairs and we’ll be down in a minute.

”No need to rush,” I peck his forehead this time, giving his face small kisses to lift his mood. It’s comical how disappointed he looks with his nose scrunched up adorably. He really has no shame as he sighs licking his lips to taste the remaining flavour of our kiss.

”We can continue this tomorrow, we have so much time, I promise...”

And continue we do. True to my word I comply with his request pulling the oversized t-shirt over my head to reveal him my black lacy bra and the curve of my waist. His eyes devour the new uncovered flesh hands lingering in the air itching to touch my bare skin but too shy to do it without my permission. He remains frozen in the act. Dreamy eyes watching my reaction to his shy movements silently asking for a sign that it is alright to touch. He’s so curious he wants to hear those noises the couples always make in his videos.

I nod putting him out of his misery cradling his hand in mine to place the warm palm onto my covered breast I guide his movements fondling the flesh, his touch feels good despite the barrier between his skin and mine.

Slipping his hand under the cup his finger comes into contact with my nipple I show him how to circle the bud until it gets erect a small sigh escaping my lips. I had the sudden urge to steal a kiss so I leaned in to grab the back of his neck and crush our lips together no tongue just lips touching sweetly.

I removed his touch to intertwine our fingers placing both of our hands to rest against the bed leaning into his mouth more.

”Is that all that you want me to do?” I murmur the words into his mouth, encouraging him to say more, to do more. Jimin swallows the saliva in his mouth gaze significantly cloudy as he stares into my eyes, shaking his head. He got so far the current thoughts in his head are clearly not about stopping anytime soon.

”What else do you want then?” I press him to answer my question, following the line of his upper lip with my thumb smearing the lip balm that got transferred from my lips to his while kissing, Jimin took a shaky breath before opening his mouth.

”Y-your tongue.” His tongue seemingly came out subconsciously to wet his lips I closed my eyes moaning at the sinful image. He really did his research, I’m about to give him everything he wants if he keeps up with these innocent yet so dirty looks.

”Where do you want it?” I grin moving closer so our thighs are firmly pressed together letting go of his hand to cup his face with both hands. Bending my head to peck the outline of his vein on his neck his pulse quickens under my touch. Pleased to have had such a great effect on him.

”In my mouth.” He squeaks out his response when I bite into his shoulder careful not to really pierce his skin but let him feel a moderate amount of pain mixed with his pleasure. I smooth my tongue where I bit making sure that I don’t leave any marks on his perfect skin. I don’t want our mother to ask questions later.

”Hm,” I hum into his neck satisfied by the answer before lining our faces again to fulfil his wish. ”Open.” As soon as I command his lips part obediently waiting for me to slip my tongue into his awaiting mouth.

”Jimin. Can I touch you?” I sigh into his mouth, he tastes so sweet I can’t seem to get my fill as I discover every corner of his hot cavern licking the roof teasing him before letting our wet muscles touch in a heated battle for dominance. Jimin gets greedy soon as he pushes my tongue back to do the exploration of his own, the kiss turns sloppy and too much saliva. Hands clutching onto the duvet under him grounding his body swimming in euphoria from falling too deep into the feeling.

”Yes, please.” Our eyes open slightly to watch each other my mouth founds the corner of his lips then the side of his cheek and jaw before diving back in parting his lips with my tongue to continue tasting him.

With a feather-light touch, I snake my hands upwards his thin frame and tiny waist feels so fragile under my fingers. I want to pepper his torso with my kisses pushing his body down using his shoulders to see his weight bounce on the bed. But I can’t get so ahead of myself, Jimin deserves to be worshipped like the angel he is.

”Lay down on your back Jiminie.” I smile seeing how obedient he is following my orders without any complaints or questions. He trusts me so much.

The thought alone that he is under me letting me have my ways with him makes my underwear sit uncomfortably against my heat when I move my legs to straddle his hips I feel how drenched I am for him. So pretty and so eager under me as his head rests on the pillows he truly looks like an innocent angel.

I motion for Jimin to raise his arms so I can get rid of his shirt and finally do what I intended to do and kiss his body starting from his collarbones all the way to the line where his pyjama pants hide the delicious lines of his hip bones.

I press kisses of praises into his shoulder blades moving down following the line of his sternum to give attentive licks and pecks all over his stomach feeling his muscles tensing under my lips whines and other sweet sounds slipping out of his parted lips as he breathes heavily through his nose with his eyes closed.

When I let a couple of fingers slide under his pants I realise the lack of material under my touch. He’s not wearing his boxers. The outline of his dick is evident when I look down he’s not that long but where he lacks his grith makes up for it as I can already imagine how good he would feel buried in me stretching my walls so good.

”Do you want me to touch your pretty cock darling?” I don’t forget to ask for permission even though by now I can clearly see how much he wants all this. The sight itself, how his member strains against the concealing fabric is an awfully clear giveaway of his growing desires. Jimin maintains our eye contact with hooded eyes nodding his head fervently before he can confirm his needs with words. His body burns but not with fever.

”I..yes, please. I w-want you to.” Jimin squirms waiting for me to do something that would relieve some of the tension in his joints. His cock feels heavy in my hand ready to sink into my cunt anytime, I can’t wait to put my mouth around it first but I have to be patient. I circle a digit around the tip testing how much precum he has for me.

Holding the digit up to my lips I taste the slightly salty substance humming approvingly. Tugging his pants down I get to work giving a kiss to the tip before coating his member with my saliva so I can lubricate his shaft enough so it won’t hurt him. His whole body shakes when my mouth makes contact with his cock his virgin body overwhelmed with the new sensation the little pleasure already too much for him to handle.

I make a mental note about grabbing some lube on my way home tomorrow so I can be prepared for situations like this. My lips suddenly widen into a Cheshire grin as I deliver the last lick all the way up to the hilt replacing my mouth with my hand.

”Jiminie look here for a little.” I coax him to open his eyes again with a sweet voice. ”Like that darling.” I praise him when his eyes met mine, choosing the moment his gaze connects with mine to use the same hand that pleasured him to glide under my jeans and underwear mixing my arousal with his precum I moan for the show as I rub my clit before collecting my essence so I can use it on his dick giving him the needed extra lubricant.

Jimin’s eyes don’t stay open for long when I finally touch him properly with the intent of making him cum. He can’t seem to keep his moans and throaty whines to himself as I give him a confident grip increasing the speed of my wrist when his whines became more high pitched his body gives away all the signs when he shakes under my touch that he’s close embarrassingly fast but I don’t mind, it’s his first time after all. We can always work on his stamina later.

”Relax baby and just enjoy this.” I encourage him to let go, massaging his thighs with my free hand to relax his strained muscles, slowing down my strokes but give special treatment to the tip collecting the forming precum. ”There’s no need for you to hold back.” I peck his hip picking up my pace again for a few moments longer before taking him into my mouth waiting for him to cum swirling my tongue over the tip repeatedly.

”Y-Y/N.” My name comes out in moans like a broken record when he finally lets all the tension seep away from his body letting the building pleasure force him into submission as he cums into my mouth his body goes limp when the pleasure fades away after I let him ride out his high with gentle licks.

I place the duvet over his sleepy form after I help him back into his clothes, tucking him in as I kiss his cheek to say ’sleep tight’ with the gesture.

I toss the food around on my plate in front of me tentatively listening to the conversation held between my parent and her guest but not engaging, sinking my fork into the broccoli angrily as I hear Natalie’s sugar-coated voice destined for only Jimin’s ears to catch.

She leeched herself onto him as soon as she stepped into this house annoying me with saying stuff like ’you have such a nice brother’ just to emphasise my relation to him. Even my mom takes her side saying that they look cute together.

I know she wants Jimin to socialise, that’s why this dinner is purposefully held in the first place but I can’t seem to show a different emotion than disgust when I look at Natalie trying to woo my Jimin. She will never know how he sounds when he’s about to blow his load or how he would taste against her tongue because only I can see that side of him no one else, and especially not her.

His ears are red from her constant compliments and I swear I even saw her hand grip his shoulder when she laughed about something my mom said, he shies away from her because he never kept a conversation going on with another girl that wasn’t me or my mom before but that doesn’t mean jealousy doesn’t bubble up in my chest when he doesn’t deny her advances explicitly.

The dinner continues for an awfully long time before I could excuse myself from the table to hide away in my room and peacefully start yelling into my pillow to relieve my pent up frustration throughout this unpleasant meal.

Either Jimin genuinely didn’t have a clue what she was implying or he was aware but fine with it I don’t want to waste any more time and watch her all over him. I continued sulking in my room when I heard a knock on my door grunting a ’yes’ before I resembled smashing my keyboard I suddenly felt the urge to complete that assignment I procrastinated on so I can keep my mind focused on something else.

I avert my gaze from the screen to see who’s my intruder but I refocus on my computer when I see it’s Jimin. I’m not in the mood to talk to him right now since the picture of Natalie all over him is the first image to enter my mind.

”What? Dinner’s over so soon?” I’m careful to use an unaffected tone when I speak up, holding myself back from making eye contact even though I would love to see his face, we haven’t got time all day to talk or cuddle at all since I had to help my mother all evening to prepare for this dinner that was a waste of time anyway.

Jimin stays silent not bothering to answer my question but I still refuse to look at him as I pretend to be absorbed in my work. Even if it’s far from reality when the only thing consuming my thoughts right now is that I want him to tell me no one else is going to touch him only I can make him feel that good. That he wants. No, needs only me.

”A-are you angry? Please don’t be.” I still don’t turn around and looks like it makes him desperate for my attention he thugs at my blouse but I don’t react.

I want him to panic take over his body so he won’t do this to me again. I have to busy my fingers with typing so I don’t move to card my fingers through his locks like I long to do when he lays his head on my lap kneeling on the ground to do so. I don’t push his head away but doesn’t react either.

Half an hour passes in this manner, only my typing is heard in the otherwise silent room Jimin’s head still resting on my thighs hands circling my waist. I’m halfway done with my assignment when I feel Jimin’s nose nudge my centre. I showered after I excused myself from the dinner to blow off some steam and calm down grabbing only a pair of underwear and a shirt to cover my body with.

Jimin placed a kiss on my clothed clit making my body jerk in surprise forcing me with his bold actions to finally look at him our gaze locks as soon as I look down. Jimin folds the sides of my blouse so he can get access to the rest of my underwear following my panty line with his nose.

”Can I make it up to you?” Jimin looks up with innocent eyes that have my stomach twist in excitement but I try not to show him how much he can affect me as well. I’ll still make him pay for his actions.

”So you know you did something wrong.” I scoff but it ends up in a gasp when he licks the front of my underwear without a warning.

I grip his hair to keep him in place holding him close enough so his head still rests on my thighs but not that close to letting him lick my centre again. He’s playing dangerous games right now but I don’t know if I have it in me to be gentle with him.

”You should stop before I can’t guarantee that I won’t lose my control.” I warn him through my gritted teeth, closing my eyes for a moment to focus on my breathing, his eyes grew bigger for a moment before the previous shocked expression morphs into something else.

He can’t reach my cunt from where he’s restrained by my hands so he licks the inner side of my thigh his teeth nibbling on my sensitive skin.

I loosen my grip on his hair smoothing the silky locks out of his eyes but he cleverly uses the gesture to scoot forward and have another taste placing a more confident lick stretching the rubberband side of my panty with his teeth sliding his hands over my stomach that was previously so obediently circling my waist.

”You don’t have to do it.” I remind him, feeling out of breath from his kitten licks over my clothed mound.

”I know.” Jimin replies with a sweet smile adorning his face before he pulls my underwear down my legs slowly, watching with interest as I part my legs so he can have a good look at my glistening core.

”The girls from the videos always like it when the boy does this.” Jimin murmurs under his breath absentmindedly before rubbing my clit with his fingertips his digits dipping lower to catch where most of my arousal gathers a single digit nudging my entrance. I part my legs more so he can get more comfortable between them I let him get familiar with my most intimate part before I pull his hand away with shaky fingers.

”Taste it.” I order for him to pop his fingers into his mouth licking my arousal clean from them and he doesn’t disappoint as he does.

Now that his fingers are coated with his saliva I guide it back to my core. ”Want your finger in me.” I throw my head back when he enters, my walls sucking his finger in his movements are inexperienced and uncoordinated but I let him experiment until he gets the hang of it, and oh when he does. His one finger turns into two soon as he finds the best way to pound into my wet cunt curling the digits just the right way to make me see stars. ”Doing so good Jiminie.” I tell him between heavy pants as the rhythmical hard thrusts of his fingers starts to become too much to handle I feel my insides tighten just like my walls tighten around his fingers getting closer and closer.

I open my eyes to watch him lean down his hair tickling my inner thighs as he nestles between my legs licking at my clit while the movement of his hand never falters, the new stimulus that his visual between my legs and his tongue on my nub adds to the feeling, making me come undone around his fingers.

”Stand up baby.” I motion for him to stand as well, his finger slips out of my hole, with a confused expression plastered on his face but doesn’t question my intentions as he obligates standing on his wobbly feet I let him sit down to where I was before straddling his hips.

”Are you going to let me ride your cock? Make you mine?” I ask him using my sweetest tones before slowly kissing his lips making sure to map out his mouth once more before turning my attention to kiss the expanse of his neck.

”Yes. Fuck yes.” The way how the curse word slipped through his mind without him noticing is endearing, he can always surprise me with something doesn’t matter how much time I dedicate to learning his body and soul, he’ll always have layers to discover. These good days sometimes even weeks when his illness hides its ugly face into the background are so precious that I wish we could always be like this.

I situate my body so I can pull his sweats down I pleasantly discover that he doesn’t wear his underwear when his dick slaps against his stomach. I reach for one of the drawers where I know I placed the lube.

I squeeze some into my hand before wrapping my fingers around his fully hardened shaft smearing the lube over him Jimin whines when he feels the cold liquid hit his hot member moaning once I roll my wrist the way he seems to like so much. Have enough of the foreplay I position him in front of my entrance making eye contact with him before taking him in letting him have the chance of backing out.

Jimin’s thighs shake as I take him in fully he tries muffling his moans by biting down on my shoulder so our guests don’t find out what we are doing in my room. With a smirk on my face, I roll my hips getting the best responses as Jimin tries to hold back his cries tightening his hold on my waist to slow my thrusts down but I don’t listen to him as I start to grind down on him letting his member pull out almost all the way before sinking down enjoying how good he fills me up.

I slow down as a knock is heard at my door Jimin’s eyes widen in fear but I don’t let him move an inch as I silently take my seat with his cock buried between my folds he holds back a moan when I clench around him.

”Mom?” I call out to her, my voice a bit shaky but I was able to mask it away enough that it doesn’t sound suspicious.

”Are you alright? Can I come in?” I hear her worried voice, she probably heard Jimin’s louder cries and she thinks something’s wrong. At this moment I’m really glad that my mom is very dense.

”I’m feeling unwell so I’m going to sleep immediately but you go and have fun with the guests don’t worry.” I offer her my reply as I circle my waist can’t keep still as Jimin’s dick feels heavenly it shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does seeing how pathetically he tries to prevent my mother from hearing his moans but his innocent facade can’t fool me as I feel him twitch inside me as I talk to my mother while he’s balls deep in my cunt. I wonder if he wants us to get caught or that he would like me to fuck him in front of Natalie on our dining table so she can see she never had a chance with him.

”Fine but come and get me if you need anything.” She leaves with these last words without further protests and I thank her while bouncing on Jimin’s lap silencing his cries by kissing him hard.

”What mom would think if she saw you in this situation Jiminie? Fucking me while you pretend to be an angel in front of her. Kissing her cheek with the same lips that were buried between my legs moments prior.” I whisper next to the shell of his ear he lets out embarrassed whines but I can feel him enjoy how I fuck myself using him.

My thighs ache as I increase the pace feeling so close again I guide Jimin’s hand between our bodies to make him rub at my clit he does it messily but it’s enough stimulation as I cum again watching as Jimin’s eyes squeezed shut close to reach his own high.

#jimin smut #bts smut #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts stepbrother au #bts filthy smut #sub jimin

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hearteyesandviolence · 4 years

Text

All My Ships At Sea

My All Timers  

Korrasami:

Will never forget the moment after I watched the finale, just sitting in the dark, unable to believe I'd actually just seen what I'd just seen. Still get chills when I re-watch it.

Clexa

We've all got our war stories from this one. But it wouldn't have hurt so bad if the highs weren't so high.

Sanvers

This one ended up breaking my heart too, but I can't claim I didn't love the ride while it lasted, and one of the most meaningful coming out stories I've ever watched.

Cophine

Two lovely human beings who are able to convey yearning as memorably as I've ever seen it done.

Goodfoe/Shoni

It feels wrong to put them here when it's still so early. But I don't think I've felt this way about a ship since the heyday of Clexa

Harley/Ivy

Already loved it in the comics, but the show made it something so real, I’m so pumped for season 3.

 The Also Great

Hollstein

This one is really, really close to being in the all time greats. I think maybe if I liked season 3 more they'd be in there....as it stands, they're probably the best of the rest....for now.

Nysara

So, here's the thing. You wanna say Avalance is the better ship, I will not only not argue with you, I will agree with you. They have more development, more great moments, and I adore Ava Sharpe. But Nysara is always going to be the one for me. Nyssa the heartbroken lesbian is always going to be one hell of an image to me.

Catradora

I have some issues with this one that I might get into later, but I also think they're two of the best characters in animation in the past decade, and seeing them together can't help but feel powerful.  

Scorpia/Perfuma

My only issue with this one is we didn’t get to see more of them

Amy/Hope

I actually wish Booksmart had been a series so we could have gotten a proper slowburn between these two. Doesn't mean I didn't near swoon when they kissed. An all time great high school ship.

Nico/Karolina

I haven't properly finished Runaways, so this probably more belongs in the category below. But what I have seen, I love.

Jenny/Vastra

It's a lizard lady and her wife/maid fighting crime in Victorian England with katannas. I'm not above that.  

Jamie/Dani

Yes, I watched, and yes, I became a puddle.

Bubbline

This one straddles the line between this category and the next, as I'm in and out with Adventure Time. But I've seen most of the important bits and I know I like what I see.

Haven’t Actually Watched The Show But I Still Ship Them Real Hard

Wayhaught:

Confession, I’ve yet to actually watch a full episode. But I’ve seen pretty much every Wayhaught scene, plus enough of the rest to fall a little in love with Wynonna herself. Still. Sorry. But they’re all amazing

Cazzie:

Again, only watched their parts, but I'm honestly not sure I've ever seen high school friends to lovers done better.

Curious Archer

I bailed on OUAT before these two showed up, but I've watched every scene they were in, and it just makes me wish they'd somehow brought them in 3 seasons earlier. 15 minutes or so worth of screen time after 7 seasons isn't nearly enough, but it’s certainly something. And they’re so effing cute.

Root/Shaw

This is a show I know I'd enjoy if I gave it a shot, but I just haven't sat down to yet, and now I've spoiled most of the final season for myself because I couldn't help but watch everything to do with these two.

  The Straights Jake And Amy

I’ve come to have pretty mixed feelings about rooting for cops, but I’ll always think these two had one of the healthiest and most engaging sitcom relationships.   Ray and Nora

An adorable couple on and off screen that didn’t get enough time. These two getting such a raw deal is one of the things that’s zapped my enthusiasm from LOT

Gareth/Madelena

Don't think a lot of folks watched Galavant, or there'd be more of it, but if you want to see the cutest villain ship I've ever seen, check it out.

Guilty Pleasures

Choni

They fall short of being in my also greats for a couple reasons. One, I'm just But the main one is the treatment of Toni as a character. She has no life outside of Cheryl, something the actress is made known she is not ok with, and using an actress of color to be a prop for a white girls story is something that needs to END.All that said....they're really fucking adorable, and I have a soft spot for "Ice Queen who shows a soft spot to her girlfriend".

Ruby Slippers

This falls under guilty pleasure for the simple fact that it's rushed and doen't justify the buildup. It was supposed to be Mulan and Ruby, and everybody knows it, but instead we got rush job of a love story to throw a bone to the queer following.

That said....I kind of adore them. Maybe it hit me at a moment when i just needed something, maybe it's cause Ruby was always my favorite OUAT character, or maybe it's just cause Meghan Ory acted the hell out this episode, really selling that she's suddenly totally in love with a girl she's known for 3 minutes. It worked on me....but no one tell Disney. They're not allowed to feel good about this.

Anyway.....that’s my ships....you know, if you were wondering.

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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Your thoughts on the epi? I thought it was a good episode overall. Serkan is acting the way I thought he would: he wants to be the perfect Dad, is scared she won't love him, is spoiling her but also teaching her things. I'm not quite sure why Kiraz isn't calling him Baba, maybe she needs time to adjust to calling him that. I have mixed emotions when it comes to the way Eda spied on Serkan. I understand she's worried but trust the man a little. No comments on Aydan and Ayfer! They are too much!

Hello! I liked the episode. It felt very light, very romcom-y and I thought it was very enjoyable to watch. Loved every minute of Serkan trying to be the ideal dad and I'm here for the Edser UST this ep brought. They want each other sooooo much. And, yes, Eda wants him, she wants him bad. I thought the custody thing at the end was silly and convoluted, but, hey, I'm totally here for the "they're not together and fighting their feelings, but forced to live together" trope so I will just ignore how unbelievable it would be for Edser to be drowning in hearteyes for each other all ep, getting along in regards to Kiraz, AND seemingly aware that Aydan/Ayfer were up to something and still allow a misunderstanding over their shenanigans to spiral to that nonsense degree.

Maybe the folks that think that Serkan & Eda were playing all the meddling family and friends are right, and they set it up beforehand, it's just that I've thought things were a fake out on this show so many times, only for them to be real, so at this point I'm operating under the assumption that this is just a romcom plot point to throw our romantic leads together and it's not worth examining it too closely.

I'll give my thoughts on the "Baba" vs "Serkan Bolat" thing and Eda's actions after we talk a bit about the B, C and D players... Thankfully we had plenty of Edser and Kiraz screen time this ep so the supporting stories didn't overwhelm the episode too much.

(much more under the cut)

That being said, who can we pay to get these people to mind their own f-cking business? LMAO. At least Engin and Piril weren't annoying and were actually trying to be helpful. I mean, Piril is still cancelled, but if she's not causing trouble now then she's not at the top of my shit list. However, I did laugh at her when she's sort of pleading with Serkan: "We've been friends for a long time, you'll understand why I did this." Um... what, Piril? You're sitting there approximately 72 hours after Serkan found out he has a child and he's already proven that he's ALL IN on being a father, and you expect Serkan to think you were right for hiding it from him? Cause why? He has already proven that any concerns you had about him rejecting Kiraz were invalid. The only thing wrong with Serkan's anger at Piril is that it will probably only last for that scene.

Anyone else think Kerem the assistant is an ass? Seriously, do they really want us to root for sweet Pina to be with this dickweasel? He's insecure, he thinks he knows it all, he's snarky and lashes out, he's vindictive. No thanks.

As for Aydan and Ayfer. Ooph. As punishment for their unprecedented assery this episode they both need to be stranded on a desert island with only each other. Only then maybe they'll learn not to insert themselves by such underhanded means. They're both giant pains in the ass, but Ayfer still annoys me more than Aydan. Because here's the thing, once Edser is back together and Serkan is happy, Aydan will fully embrace Eda again, but I don't think the same can be said for Ayfer. Did you see some of the bitchy, sour faces Ayfer was making, taunting Eda about her soft spot for Serkan. She's insufferable.

Turning to the nonsense meddling custody plot line, Kemal and Seyfi were just following orders, but what is Melo's excuse? It's unfortunate that the narrative pulled her into this. Ayfer may have her head in the sand, and not really care what Eda wants, but Melo does and she knew that Eda wanted to cooperate with Serkan and bring him into Kiraz's life, she knew that Eda was about 2 seconds from melting every time she was near Serkan, and that they were likely on the cusp of rekindling their relationship. There is no way she should have been complicit in trying to get evidence against Serkan or visiting lawyers behind Eda's back.

However, even after being complicit in Ayfer's nonsense, she still deserves a helluva lot better than Burak. That guy was annoying af this episode. What exactly does he think he's doing? I'm sorry, in that situation you step back and give the people going through such a monumental life change some space. Again, it's not like it needs to be forever, but you don't try and monopolize the kid's time the night of and 2 days after she meets her long-lost father. He needs to fuck all he way off.

Also since Eda had no interest in this guy, why is he coming over to tuck in the kid EVERY night? I get that he's been good to Kiraz and they have a nice relationship, but that's soooo overkill, it's just not normal. Especially since they've said they've only been living there a year. The only reason for a dude to revolve his entire life around a kid like that is because he's actively trying to get in the mom's pants. So when it comes to Burak's intentions, Eda is as dense as Serkan used to be with Balca/Selin/Actress. Burak only took that level of interest and inserted himself into their lives because he wanted Eda, and Eda should realize that and have a frank conversation with him. Eda doesn't even have to be cognizant that she will inevitably get back together with Serkan, she already knows she has no interest in Burak. She should tell him. And if she's already told him (which it seems she might have from her comments to Ayfer and Melo) she should put some boundaries in place because his presence was ridiculous.

It still blows my mind that this sad sack thinks he has a shot with Eda. Seriously, while the dude isn't hideous, he's also not attractive and he has the personality of dead grass coupled with the charisma of warm mayonnaise. He's not worthy of either Eda or Melo. The scene of Melo and Burak walking on the beach made me a bit uncomfortable. They're totally setting that relationship up, but so far all we see is Melo obviously harboring feelings for him as Burak broods over his Eda delusions. We'll have to see how this plays out, but I feel like Burak didn't need to be this upset over Eda for the story to work, and it would be a lot easier to root for him with Melo if by episode 5 if he wasn't still actively trying, as Engin said, to take over Serkan's family.

On to Edser and the newly forming Bolat family unit. It's funny, I'm not someone who thinks a woman needs to take her husband's last name, I think people should do whatever they want, but for whatever reason I really, really want Eda and Kiraz to have his name. Maybe because I think they all crave having people to belong to in a sense. Serkan because he was unloved and sent overseas alone at such a young age, Eda because she was an orphan, Kiraz because she didn't have a dad in early childhood. So for that reason, I really do feel like it will be meaningful to have them tied together that way as a family unit. They belong to each other now (or they will soon).

Along those lines, you say you're not sure why Kiraz isn't calling him Baba, narratively, I think it's because that will be a big milestone in their relationship. When she feels comfortable enough, connected enough, and secure enough with him to do that, it's going to melt all of our hearts right out of our chests. If she'd done it right away it wouldn't feel as special as it's going to feel when it eventually happens because she feels it (not just because it's a fact).

As for her calling him Serkan Bolat, I think it's adorable. That's how she knew him before, it would be weird if she called him anything other than that or Baba, (like Serkan or Abi) because then it would be like she was settling on that, but calling him by his full name, which is such a part of his identity, is cute and charming and pays tribute to the interactions they had before they knew of their relationship, and it's a signal that it's only temporary. Baba is coming, don't worry.

Loved Kiraz showing Serkan her room and all of her things, and really loved Eda standing there, smiling, soaking it in. I've seen a lot of criticism of Eda in this episode and she did have a few moments that were unnecessarily harsh, but I think it's also valid to give her a minute to adjust because this is a lot of change in just a couple of days. While she now knows Serkan had understandable, and even noble, reasons for what he did and said, that still doesn't erase the heartbreak and pain he put her through, or the 5 years of being a single mother and not having anyone to consult or needing to consult anyone on decisions regarding Kiraz.

I do think, though, that we didn't see Eda give him enough credit when he covered for her lies to Kiraz. When Kiraz asked her why she didn't tell her Serkan Bolat was her father and then asked him when mom didn't answer, he could have easily told the truth and thrown Eda under the bus, big time, but instead he comes up with something that passes as an explanation, doesn't make anyone a villain, but also doesn't make him look great. I wish we'd seen Eda recognize that. It was a magnanimous gesture on his part, since he and Kiraz were the ones who were lied to for 5 years.

However, her running a bit hot and cold this episode makes sense. On one hand when she's around him her heart feels that strong orbital pull towards him. She loves him. She always has loved him, she always will love him. Just like with Serkan, that will not change, and obviously didn't after heartbreak and separation. But it also makes sense that at times her head takes over and with it the fear and the memory of the pain and she freezes up a bit. It doesn't ding her or their love, she just needs time to let herself believe that this is really happening. That Serkan is back, that he still loves her, that he loves their daughter and wants to be a father and form a family. From the way she recorded those videos, how many times do we think she dreamed of them being a happy family together? I'm guessing a lot. Now it's within her grasp and I think she just needs to be sure that Serkan is for real before she fully succumbs to this dream.

She also needs to get over her pride, I'm sure there's a part of her (Ayfer's voice) telling her a woman doesn't go back to a man who hurt her that badly. But as we saw, girlfriend was snuggling with his shirt, she still has it so bad for him. But, pro tip, Eda, he wanted to stay the night, wouldn't it be so much more fulfilling to snuggle with the real thing? I promise it would... just let him in. The lawn scene was hilarious. Kerem is really and truly a gifted physical comedian. We know how tight the timelines are on this show and they don't get to do a lot of takes, but his stumbling over the furniture and falling was flawlessly done. Hande was great too... that bat! Of course the sexual tension in the robes and towel scene was magnificent. When she first walked in wearing that towell I thought my man was going to combust. That look on his face, priceless.

Speaking of priceless, what first-day Baba makes his little girl's dreams come true like Serkan Bolat does? Staying up all night to build her flying house? MY HEART!

What a fantastic first gift. It was incredibly thoughtful, it was meaningful to the two of them, and it was also Serkan giving a piece of himself (using his skills in what he does best as an architect) to her.

Absolute perfection.

And how sweet that Serkan wanted to spend the day with her alone!?! I really liked that because we all know he loves Eda, he wants Eda back, and he will use any excuse to spend time with Eda. And he could have done that here, but he doesn't. So the fact that he wanted to spend the day alone with Kiraz, clearly illustrates that his interest in Kiraz, his desire to be her father stands on it's own. Kiraz is not just an excuse to get close to Eda, he is pursuing both relationships, and they are both important to him.

Also you said that you have mixed emotions on the way Eda spied on Serkan, that she doesn't trust him, but honestly I really don't think it's about that. She might have been a little discombobulated by the idea because the man has never really spent any time with children and here he's thrust into fatherhood, but she trusts him and knows Kiraz is safe with him. Honestly, I think her biggest driving factor in following them is FOMO.

She doesn't want to miss this! She has wondered what kind of father he might be for years, and now she wants to witness it. She wants to be there and see what he's like when he's spending time with her. She also wants to be a part of it, and a part of her might be a little jealous. For years she's been the only parent, and now another parental bond is forming and it's natural she is curious what that's going to look like.

Melo even sees through her during their conversations while they're out spying. Eda pretends it's because she's worried that Serkan doesn't know what he's doing, but Melo susses out that it's really because she missed Serkan. I think she really just wanted to be a part of it.

And her ulterior motives are exposed when she reacts with jealousy over the park moms and then with Hulya. She's jealous over Serkan, but also over what it might mean if Serkan had a woman in his life that's not Eda. (Real simple way to ensure that doesn't happen, Eda, just saying). On first watch it was a little frustrating to watch Eda be upset about Huyla and not have it cleared up immediately. However, on the second time through I found it incredibly enjoyable to watch. Hilarious even. Knowing that Serkan is going to let her off the hook just a few minutes later, and it's not going to be a drawn out misunderstanding, it's very fun to watch him just totally bask in her jealousy. The way he sits there and giggles and is just so chuffed at her display was very endearing. Since he's been celibate for 5 years, I suppose he's earned an incrediulous laugh at her thinking he has all these women on the line.

Eda is not wrong to be concerned about the Bolat's ability to spoil Kiraz with material things, Aydan can get out of control, however I can't be mad at the pony. The girl asked him if he had horses the first day they met, she said she wanted a dad like Serkan who had horses, he HAD to get her one she could actually ride! The girl was deprived of her father for 5 years because both of her parents are stubborn, so, let's be real, she kinda deserves a pony. Besides Eda should be more worried about the "spoiling" she gets from her camp, where she, Ayfer, Melo and Burak let her get away with constantly running away/running wild, eating ice cream whenever she wants, being rude to strangers etc. The fact that she's taught it's okay to knock a customer's water over without apologizing is more damaging to a forming personality than a pony. (Yes, that was another dig at Burak.) The point is, spoiling isn't only about material things, and from the glimpses we've seen of Baba Serkan he's already taught her about taking responsibility (confessing to breaking the window and apologizing), being self sufficient (tying shoelaces, putting pjs on herself), and setting behavioral boundaries (don't shoot arrows at people in hotels, you shouldn't hug strangers). He's going to be a very good influence in her life, because despite growing up with material privilege the man believes in hard work, effort and personal accountability.

Anyway, loved that when Serkan told Eda about dinner with Engin/Piril/Can she looked so secretly pleased when she casually agreed to go. I think that goes hand in hand with why she was spying, she won't let herself admit it, but she so badly wants them to do things as a family. That was part of her tug o' war this episode. Wanting that, but then suddenly worrying that maybe she shouldn't want that after everything that's happened, those feelings are helped along by Ayfer's judgemental looks and comments, and Burak trying to assert his place and Eda maybe feeling guilty.

Eda's behavior at dinner perfectly summarized the war going on between her head and heart this episode. First she fights with Serkan, going so far as to tell him she hates him, but the second she gets good news she flings herself into his arms. He's the person she wants to celebrate with, he's the person she wants congratulations from. So even if she was mad at him, she can't help herself. Also thank you Engin for telling Eda how Serkan lost weight and didn't come to work for months after she left. Those are important things for her to know. Also reinforced later by Aydan.

And thank you, Jan, for planting that fear of her dad leaving again with Kiraz, because it gave us sleep over at the Bolat house. It also gave us Kiraz asking Serkan if he will leave her. A good question and I'm glad we have Serkan's promise to never leave her. Just with the way tragedy (and meddling family members and obsessed stalkers) seems to find both Eda and Serkan, it's good he's made that promise. And it's good that he knows she needs that promise.

Now onto the secret room. I suppose if you're going to keep all of that and you have a large house, then you might as well keep it in a special room. This was a huge missing piece for Eda. Something tangible that she can see with her own two eyes that proves that he never forgot her and has been pining for her since the day they parted. I thought Eda was suitably touched by it all, and the fact that he got her gifts for every birthday. Anyone else think that they're going to get married on the beach and she's going to wear those flip-flops, that white dress, and the locket when they do? That's what sprung to my mind. The Neslihan scarf product placement made me roll my eyes, though.

To be honest I really didn't care what the gifts were, all I cared about was that thank you cheek kiss. I DIE. The birthday-present-thank-you cheek kiss he gave her in 7 is one of my all time favorite scenes and this parallel was a long time coming and wonderfully executed. And then they delivered on the USTy stare off where they clearly want to make out, but they're not quite there yet. It was going to have to be Eda that broke them out of it, because up to Serkan they either kiss or he stares at her for the rest of time.

Did anyone else feel a crick in their back, neck, legs at how Eda slept on that couch? Serkan was as comfy as can be, stretched out using her legs as a pillow and her torso as a blanket, lol. I wish the editors would have given us a couple of more seconds lingering on them all contorted like that. It was too precious. It would have been sweet if they'd had Kiraz find them and watch them for a minute before waking them up. Show the parent-trapping gears turning in her mind.

Buba absolutely deserved Serkan showing up to spoil his outing. And of course both ladies instantly gravitated to Serkan. I liked this scene because it gave us over-the-top BDE Serkan, a whiff of "Drain the pool" Serkan, the comedy of Engin and Serkan doing the Cyrano thing, and the obvious little "fish" measuring metaphor. But what I really liked was Eda telling him that he didn't need to try so hard to win Kiraz, that he just had to be himself. That was important and lovely, and illustrated to him that she really did want him to develop a good relationship with Kiraz.

The best moments of the episode for them, though, came during their family stargazing outing. Loved Serkan's extra safety precautions, including the mirror just so he can see her in the backseat. Though, if he's that concerned about it, maybe a larger car, lmao? Kiraz tricking them into kissing was an auspicious start to the evening, hopefully that's a taste of things to come. I'm here for her forcing the two of them into intimate situations.

The way Serkan was looking at the two of them throughout the stargazing was something else. He was looking at them with such longing. Like he couldn't believe they were so close, but he wanted them so badly. DUDE, they are right there, continue to play your cards right (and not let Ayfer and Aydan spoil things, spoiler alert, they do) and you're just days away from having everything you want. Loved that he changed the Apollo story to give it the happy ending he wants. Hopefully, that gave hope to any doomsdayers out there that think this show is going to end in tragedy. (Spoiler alert, it's not).

The only shame is that they have that nice (if not detached from reality conversation since they pretend they're not going to be together raising Kiraz) adult conversation about cooperating and working out how they're going to deal with Aydan and Ayfer, only for things to go totally off the rails during said conversations. As I said off the top of this marathon post, it was totally unbelievable in the context of the rest of the episode, but as I always say you can't take this show too seriously, and I prefer to just enjoy the situations as they come and not get too annoyed when they take these writing shortcuts to drive the plot. I plan on very much enjoying Eda and Serkan forced to live together while they're (or at least she) is still pretending they're not going to end up together. Looks like next week is another fun romcom romp, and I'm here for it!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #serkan bolat #eda yildiz #serkan x eda #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #sckask #sck 2x44 #sck 2x05 #asklizac #you knock on my door #love is in the air #anonymous

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part twenty one) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5850 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part twenty one: It’s Dean’s turn to make an entrance in the main arena. The rides lead to an interesting business proposal by a new client, but brings a lot of doubt too. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Watching From A Distance - David Ramirez (opening scene) Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @atc74, @manawhaat and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Saturday morning has started early for the crew of the Gold Canyon Ranch. Before the crack of dawn Benny has mucked out the stables and fed the horses, making sure they had time to digest their pellets before the show starts. Together with Jo, Y/N has hand-walked the animals who are competing today, letting them stretch their legs and graze a bit. She took extra time for Meadow, who always seems to need a moment to adjust to new surroundings. The mare was fresh today, the brisk air only fueling her feisty temper. Her owner couldn’t help but snigger when she lifted her tail and started jogging next to her instead of just strolling along, showing off to anyone who would look at her.

It’s 8 AM when Dean puts his foot in the stirrup of the saddle, swinging his right leg over the back of the Bon Jovi, the light catching the fringe of his chaps. He pulls his hat a little tighter on his head once he’s seated, while the well-behaved stallion waits patiently for his rider to give him an aid, which he does, after adjusting the length of his reins.

With the sun only just peeking from behind the horizon, rays break through the leaves of the trees next to the warmup area, adding to the still peaceful surroundings. The commentator isn’t blaring through the speakers yet, the ring isn’t full of other riders trying to find a spot to train without running into each other. It’s the calm before the storm, a bit of peace and quiet both horse and human appreciate. No distractions, no sensory overload for the inexperienced stallion. It’s the perfect way to introduce him to the element of competition.

Y/N has just finished filling up the water buckets in the stables and rests her arms on the fence of the small arena. She watches Dean slowly start up the beautiful palomino, its coat seemingly made from gold in the morning light. Her boyfriend is wearing clean dark jeans and a navy button up, a black Stetson to match his show outfit. Never will she get tired of watching that man ride, but dressed like he is now, she can’t take her eyes off him. Y/N sighs deeply, swooning at the sight. She really did land the most handsome cowboy in Arizona, didn’t she?

The head wrangler seems composed as ever, not breaking a sweat over having to ride into the ring in thirty minutes, something that she admires and envies all at the same time. She wishes she could feel relaxed right before a test, instead of being the nervous wreck that she usually is. Meadow will not make her entry until later this evening and already Y/N dodged breakfast, well aware that she won’t be able to swallow a bite, stage fright blocking her throat. Just thinking about the premiere of her freestyle makes it slightly harder to breathe, but Dean takes that away when he rides past, breaking his concentration for a second and shooting her a wink and a soft smile. She chuckles as they keep a hold of each other’s gaze for a few seconds as his horse walks by. God, she wishes she has his confidence.

Other competitors join Dean and Bon Jovi in the warm up area, but the stallion only murmurs at a mare once, its rider gently yet strictly reminding him to keep his head in the game. Before they know it, the same voice that did the commentary on last night’s barrel race competition sounds from the amplifiers.

“Good mornin’, folks! It’s another beautiful day here at the Flagstaff Horsefair. We’re getting ready for the first class of the day, the Standlee Forage Reining Competition for four year olds. Highest overall score wins five bags of high quality horse food.”

The commentator continues to promote the sponsors of the event, Dean giving his horse a little scratch on the shoulder when he tenses slightly as the loud voice sounds from the speakers. Aware that it will soon be their turn, the rider allows himself to enjoy the atmosphere as he casts his gaze over the other competitors. He isn’t too worried about the fixture, confident in his own skills and those of his horse.

“Dean Winchester, two minutes!” A steward announces, looking down at his clipboard to double check the line up. The cowboy nods in acknowledgement, directing his gaze to Y/N as he waits for her to catch up. He watches as she puts down the grooming bag next to her on the sandy arena footing, attending to the bell boots that Bon Jovi is still wearing. She unbuckles the leather clasps, putting the leg protection away. “Would you like some water?” she offers. He shakes his head, casually, taking in the arena. “Nah, I’m good.”

Y/N looks up at him, trying to read what he is feeling. To her, it is strange how he doesn’t seem nervous. He’s relaxed, collected; reminding her of the still waters at Canyon Lake, where they swam together for the first time on the trail that changed everything. It is as if he can’t register the pressure that should be resting on his shoulders. Maybe he truly believed he is that good. “Break a leg,” she speaks, fondly. “Don’t wish that upon me, Yankee,” Dean chuckles. “Kinda need them to do my job.” She laughs and pats him lovingly on his denim clad thigh. “I don’t know how you can be so calm.” “Well, I have my good luck charm with me.” He lays his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “C’mere.” She steps closer to Bon Jovi, tiptoeing to reach up while Dean leans over to level with her. His lips brush over hers softly, his nose nuzzling hers in a sweet gesture. She smiles into the gentle kiss. “Go get’em, cowboy.”

The wrangler straightens himself in the saddle, while his girlfriend picks up the groom bag and steps back. He guides his horse into the tunnel under the bleachers towards the arena, concentrating on the gates in front of him, waiting for them to open. The reigns feel smooth between his fingers as he drowns out the noise around him. With his free hand, he encouragingly strokes the side of Bon Jovi’s neck, his pearly white manes contrasting beautifully against his flaxen coat. He has grown accustomed to these kinds of events, his nerves not bothering him anymore. He finds solace in his work, seeing it more as fun than as a chore. He enjoys the challenge the youngsters bring him, from the initial moment of putting on a halter, to getting in a saddle, to showing them all for the very first time. In less than a year, the horses go through such growth, and it’s always a pleasure to be a part of their journey.

“First competitor of the day is Dean Winchester, riding Bon Jovi, a stallion by Renegade. This horse is bred by Victor Hendriksen and owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch in Phoenix, Arizona.”

Y/N watches as the palomino calmly comes through the gate, not batting an eye at his new and impressive surroundings. Submissive and willing, the stallion responds to his rider’s aids when he’s asked to halt. To witness how trustful each and every horse is with the trainer, surfaces some kind of gratification inside of her. The way Dean schools the animals isn’t based on authority or rank, but much more about collaboration and respect. It’s something she admires about him from the get go.

Dean leads Bon Jovi through a precise pattern of figures, spins and stops. Reining is all about the athletic abilities of the horse, and the rider controlling every movement. The horse demonstrates attitude and willingness, while the signals given by the rider are nearly imperceptible. The run is evaluated by a panel of three judges, who mark each pattern individually. In this youngster class, speed isn’t key yet, but correctness is. Every stride must look effortless and relaxed, as if the animal and rider have become one. That’s exactly what is on display in the arena right now.

With a smile of adoration across her face, Y/N leans her forearms on the steel fence, watching the head wrangler. A small crowd that got up at the crack of dawn have occupied the first rows on the bleachers and by the fence, encouraging shouts and whistles rallying the first competitor on. The young horse is so fixed on his rider, that he doesn’t even pick up on the sounds. Bon Jovi isn’t fast in the spins yet, but that’s okay, because his footwork is close to perfect. After three well executed sliding stops, Dean gives the palomino the signal to back up, his spur not even touching the horse’s flank. Submissively, he reverses until his rider drops the reins and rewards the stallion, who blows out a purr through his nose, looking up at the stands curiously when they applaud the performance, much like the commentator.

“Well, if that ain’t setting the bar, I don’t know what is. What a solid ride from Dean Winchester and Bon Jovi!”

While Dean exits the arena, he searches the people along the fence and on the bleachers. He’s looking for Bobby, who he finds on the sidelines. His uncle holds his gaze and gives the head wrangler a nod, telling him so much without using actual words. They haven’t spoken about the elephant in the room yet, today’s pace being far too high to squeeze in the awkward conversation, and so both men have decided for themselves to let it rest. Besides, they might have sold a number of horses yesterday, that doesn’t mean they can lean back now.

The cowboy leads his horse back to the warm up ring, meeting his girlfriend half way. “Good run!” she compliments, taking Bon Jovi’s reins after Dean swings his right leg over the saddle and dismounts. She shoves the water bottle in his hand this time, knowing if she had asked, he would have declined anyway. “I had a little wobble in the second roll back, but yeah, the rest was good.” He twists off the cap and takes a swig, thirstier than he likes to admit.

Since Dean is competing two separate horses in the same class, he’s both first and last to enter the main arena. It’s going to be a race against the clock, and he looks around the warm-up area in search for his next four-legged dance partner. “Where’s Jo? Ringo is up in thirty minutes.” “Better get off your high horse, Mister, otherwise this is the last time I’ll tack up for you,” his cousin replies snappily, appearing from behind with a bay gelding named Ringo Starr in tow. Dean is about to counter her, but he bites his tongue, knowing she’s not kidding and will never do him a favor again if he gives her attitude. And so he mutters a ‘thanks’ under his breath when he takes the Quarterhorse from her.

As swiftly as he got down from Bon Jovi, he now mounts Ringo, the next four year old for him to compete. As he does so, his score is announced over the speakers, but he can’t quite make out the numbers. When he glances at the scoreboard, he’s pleasantly surprised. “218.5 points!” Y/N cries out, delighted. “That’s fantastic!” With a content smirk adorning his features, Dean nods satisfied; that is indeed a good score. Good enough to put Bon Jovi on the podium. Good enough to ask a high price when the buyers come calling. He doesn’t have time to settle on a high cloud, though; he needs to ready Ringo for his run.

Y/N hoists the groombag on her shoulder and takes the kind palomino stallion to exit the warm-up arena. This is her job after all, she might be dating her supervisor, she’s still the intern. They made a deal when she arrived at the ranch that Dean would not treat her differently, so she intends to do the work she’s come here to do. Jo, however, seems to have a different idea, and nudges her. “I’ll take Jovi. You go cheer on your John Wayne.” The blonde cowgirl winks at her friend, taking over the load.

She chuckles, handing the petite blonde the horse. Grateful to be able to see more of Dean’s horsemanship in action, she finds a spot by the fence. The sun steadily rises, casting out what was left of the night’s coolness, the light radiating down on her much warmer and brighter. Wishing she had brought a hat, the cowgirl takes off her jacket and puts it away in the groombag. She watches her boyfriend warm up Ringo, who seems a little bit more nervous, now that the ring is more crowded. His rider does a good job reassuring the young animal, though, giving the bay gelding some light exercises to keep his mind of the commotion around him, rewarding the Quarter every time he shows a sign of relaxation.

“Beautiful day to be buying horses, isn’t it, darling?” Y/N startles at the sudden gruff voice, snapping her head to where the sound came from. The supposedly kind words to start conversation are pronounced with a English accent, by a stranger dressed in black. The rather short man who she guesses would be somewhere in his fifties leans on the steel rail, his fingers laced together while he watches riders in the arena.

“Y - yeah, I suppose so,” Y/N stammers, unsure how to respond. “My apologies, where are my manners.” The man turns to her and offers his hand. “The name is Fergus. Fergus MacLeod.” The cowgirl frowns at his introduction. She has heard of him, but has never met the owner of the MacLeod Studfarms in person. “Y/N Y/L/N,” she returns, slightly hesitant. “Oh, I know who you are. I’m an admirer of your work. You’re quite the talent,” the Englishman admits. “That run at the State Championships was spectacular.”

Slightly creeped out, but not trusting her instincts entirely, she stays quiet for a moment. This is a man of great influence in the business, so she does want to hear what he has to say. “You saw me ride?” she replies. He nods, an amused smirk resting on his thin lips. “I did indeed, love. Talking about talent, that horse is something else as well. Meadowsweet, is her name, isn’t it?” “Yeah...” Y/N returns, somewhat suspicious. “Tell me; are you the owner of that lovely mare? Or are there parents and sponsors involved?”

Her stance becomes a bit more defensive, not just because of the rapid questions that are fired at her, no matter how charming this gentleman is trying to be. No, it’s his assumption that she’s too young to own such a horse that gets to her. “I am the owner, as a matter of fact,” she states, a new found strength in her voice. “Good to know I am talking to the proper person then.” Her company chuckles, apparently pleased by her feisty counter. “Because I have a proposition for you.” Before he can make her an offer, Y/N intervenes. “Meadow isn’t changing owners, if that’s where you’re headed, Mr. MacLeod.” Fergus takes her in, narrowing his eyes slightly, but the pleased little smile remains. “I can make it worth your while.” “I believe you can, but no matter your offer; she’s not for sale,” the cowgirl makes herself clear, a sternness in her voice that should tone the horse trader down. It doesn’t. Instead he chuckles dryly and takes a little booklet out of the inner pocket of his black coat; it’s a cheque book. Not taking no for an answer, he pulls out a pen and writes down his signature. “Everything is for sale, love. All one has to do is pay the right price,” he says, wisely.

Fergus MacLeod rips off the sheet of paper, handing her the cheque. Not wanting to be downright rude, she takes it, staring at the empty line; it’s blank. “You may write down whatever number you seem fit. It’s up to you,” the Brit elaborates. “Now that I’ve got your attention, would you happen to know where I can find Bobby Singer? I would like to have a little chat with my old friend.” “He’s by the main arena.” She points in the direction of the entrance. “Wonderful,” he quips. “It was a pleasure meeting you, darling.”

A shiver runs down her spine as MacLeod walks away to find her boss. She’s highly aware that he is a very influential and important person in the industry, but he has got some nerve. Y/N might look like an innocent and timid girl, but there is no way in hell that she would ever give up Meadow, no matter how large the figure.

She stares at the cheque, crumbling it in her hand before she stuffs it in her pocket, angrily. She has never met someone as brazen as Fergus Macleod at a show before, and she has been to enough to know. But she doesn’t want to waste time and think about the confrontation now. The cowgirl would much rather focus on her wrangler boyfriend who is wowing the judges.

Dean’s run with Ringo Starr is another great one, and with him being the last contestant of the class, the rankings are decided the moment the score comes in. With 215.5 points, he secures the third place, behind another rider and Bon Jovi, who has held on to the lead. An impressive result, one that he knows his uncle is going to be very pleased with.

When the Dean exits the arena, he is met by his girlfriend, who is smiling widely. “You nailed it!” she chirps with enthusiasm. “They did good,” Dean says, rustling Ringo’s black mane, more than satisfied with the performance of both young horses, but not taking the compliment upon himself.

The cowboy gets down from the saddle, noticing that the gelding is tired from all the first impressions and new sensories that come with the first show. Ringo’s coat is damp, a shade darker because of the perspiration; he gave it his all. Intending to hand-walk the horse back to the stables to shower the animal and give him his hay, he strolls to exit the warm-up area, but Bobby stops him. “Dean?” his uncle calls out, beckoning him to come over. Y/N glances up, following Mr. Singer’s voice. Noticing that Fergus MacLeod has found who he claims to be his ‘old friend’, her face falls slightly. She wonders what the Englishman would want, and why Dean has been invited into the conversation. Questionly, she looks back at her boyfriend and takes over Ringo from him, reckoning she should leave since it’s none of her business what will be discussed, but the man in black has different ideas. “Y/N, do join us, and bring the horse as well, love.” The hair on the back of Dean’s neck rises; what did he just call her? Unable to prevent his jaw from clenching, he steps towards the two ranch owners, trying to keep his cool. Who the hell is this dickhead? “That’s Fergus MacLeod,” Y/N whispers, as if she just read his mind. “He’s the founder of some of the largest stud farms in the country and even has stables in Europe. Owns at least two dozen licenced stallions.” The wrangler nods in acknowledgement. Great, some snobby bigshot. Very much aware that this new face might have something to offer Bobby, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Ah, the one and only Dean Winchester,” Fergus’ grins mischievously. “Nice work there in the ring. Your uncle here told me it’s the first time those two horses are competing.” “That’s right,” the cowboy confirms. “Macleod is the name. Pleasure to meet ya.” The Brit extends his hand, which Dean shakes a little firmer than normal. He’s not even sure what he’s trying to accomplish with the display of his own physical strength.

“Fergus here is interested in buying the four year olds,” Bobby explains, apparently noticing his head wrangler’s suppressed hostility, shooting it down with a piercing stare, warningly. Dean’s demeanor changes instantly as he raises his eyebrows. If this horse trader is going to bring the big bucks, he knows he needs to keep himself in check for the sake of the ranch. “Mind if I have a peek?” Macleod asks, gesturing at the horse. “Go ahead.” Dean steps back, making room for him to inspect the horse.

Fergus circles the horse, taking the bay gelding in from several angles. He feels the hindlegs for any swelling or abnormalities and does the same with the front legs, after Y/N has removed the bandages Ringo wore in the ring to prevent any injuries. The horse trader then proceeds to look Ringo in the face and check his teeth. After a satisfied nod the man turns around, straightens his impeccable suit. He then takes a tissue from his breast pocket and wipes his hands. “It’s a fine looking animal you’ve got here, Singer,” he compliments. “You may take the horse away, my dear.” Even though she isn’t fond of the degrading way he is talking to her, Y/N obliges. Taking care of the horses when she’s not riding herself is her job after all. “Oh, and Miss Y/L/N…” She halts the horse next to her and turns around. The Englishman has his hands in his pocket now, twinkling hazel-colored eyes looking her up and down. “Bobby here tells me that you’re a well-educated woman. A master degree in Business & Economics? Impressive. Someone as smart as yourself has to acknowledge that it’s a good deal. I assume you will consider my offer on your horse,” he pauses, more intrigued with every detail he learns about the woman before him. “I would like to point out there’s room for six figures on that cheque. What numbers to fill in, is your choice.”

Dean wants to snap his head at his girlfriend, but keeps his posture. Did this man just offer her several hundred thousand dollars for Meadow? Eyes wide in astonishment, he exchanges a look with his uncle, both trying to keep a straight face. “She’s not for sale,” Y/N makes clear one more time, pronouncing the words slow to prove a point. Amused with her stubbornness, the corner of MacLeod’s mouth twitches upward. Cocky, he holds her gaze, but eventually yields. “Very well, then. Let me know if you change your mind. The offer stands.”

Without responding to Fergus’ tenacious reply, she turns away, nudging Ringo to follow her. The three men watch her leave, Dean knows her well enough to be able to tell that MacLeod has her blood boiling. He’s not surprised Y/N didn’t think twice about shooting the bid down. Meadow means the world to her, more than any amount of money could ever buy. But holy shit. Six figures! Realisation hits him; it would be enough money to save the Ranch.

The Brit who made the generous offer pulls him from his thoughts. “Alright, lads. Let’s talk business, shall we?” The three walk away from the few people that are lining around the warm-up area. A little further down, on a crossing of two paths, they stop. The little square is still quiet at this hour. Safe from lurking eyes and eavesdropping ears, they gather around one high table near a drink stand. Even though it’s a non-serve area, the influential man calls the bartender to take their order. The young guy comes back with a coke for the rider - who still has a run later this afternoon - and two bourbons. Dean didn’t even know they served whiskey at this event, let alone this early.

MacLeod cuts right to the chase. “I will offer you thirty grand for the four year old Quarters, and I will take them off your hands right away.” Dean doesn’t flinch, being in these kinds of conversations before. He can maintain his poker face, no matter how amble the offer. It is a negotiation after all. The owner of the two horses thinks about it for a second, but then comes with a counter. “Forty.” “C’mon, Bobby. Is that how you treat an old friend?” Fergus clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly after which he takes a sip from his drink. “Now, I know times are tough and that you’re experiencing difficulty staying afloat, but do realize I am already doing you a favor here. Thirty thousand dollars is more than fair.”

The head wrangler is taken aback by the Englishman’s comment. How would he know the ranch is struggling? Did people in their close circle spill the beans? Apparently MacLeod spots the unpleasant surprise on the faces of the men opposite of him, because he comments on it without missing a beat. “It’s a small world, lads. People talk. You should know that by now, Singer.” Bobby moves past the comment rather quickly and ponders about the sum. Fergus isn’t wrong; it’s not just a decent offer. It’s a generous one, one he isn’t going to decline. The Englishman across the table knows it too; the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch is desperate for money. “Cash,” he demands, accepting the original offer. The dark haired man strokes his neatly trimmed beard. “I can arrange that.”

The head wrangler might not like the horse trader, but he did just make this weekend ten times better. He gulps down the last of his coke, crumpling the can before he dunks it in the trash on the side of the crossroads. The cowboy figures the deal will be sealed with a handshake before they go separate ways, but MacLeod has a second matter to settle. “I have another proposition for you.” Having their attention, the middle aged Brit observes their reaction, his eyes full of mischief. The two members of the ranch near Phoenix share a look. “We’re listening.” Bobby says.

Fergus swirls his whiskey, studying the amber liquid in his glass. “I own a stallion,” he starts off, putting the drink to his mouth in the short pause. “I bought him at the Derby Quarterhorse Auction for over a million dollars. He’s licensed, one of the best pedigrees I’ve ever seen, not to mention his conformation and movements. He already covered four hundred mares this year. I expect great things from this horse, he is supposed to bring in the money. There is one slight issue, however.” Dean listens, intently, wondering where he is going with this. “And what would that be?”

“The horse has some… behavioral issues,” the stud farm owner claims, careful in his choice of words. “It has quite the temperament, one his former trainers haven’t been able to use in their advantage, my advantage.” Slowly the head wrangler begins to realize why the price MacLeod is willing to pay for the two Quarters is so steep; he is playing a game of give and take. The way the owner of this stallion is talking about money and business, calling the animal ‘it’, doesn’t sit well with him either. Where is the horse’s well-being in all of this?

“What’s his name?” Dean likes to know. Fergus frowns at that, clearly not understanding why it would matter, but he answers anyway. “You might have heard of this horse; his name is Cain.” Dean has heard of the horse. The whopping 1.2 million that was paid for the talented Quarter made headlines in the industry.

“What are these behavioral issues?” he needs to know, not taking the bait just yet. “Typical stallion behavior; dominance is the main problem. The horse has character, what can I say?” MacLeod laughs it off. “Anyway, I am looking for a capable horseman. Someone who can actually break him in.” The owner of the horse in question shifts his penetrating gaze from Bobby to Dean. The cowboy realizes they are at a verge of a possibly very important business deal, but he cannot stop himself from commenting on the peculiar choice of words. “I don’t ‘break in’ horses. I teach them to trust and to cooperate,” he states firmly. “Potato, potahto,” Fergus dismisses. “Are you up for the job, or not?”

Dean exchanges a glance with his uncle, a silent conversation happening between them, only possible by years and years of working together. When Bobby rights himself, he has a crucial question. “What’s in it for us?” Again that small smile on the Englishman’s face; he knows he’s close to persuading them.

“A thousand dollars each month, paid in advance, and a fifty grand bonus when Cain successfully completes the stallion performance tests in April. Plus, five percent of his earnings in coverage for the coming year. After he passes the exams, we can set up a contract in order for you to remain his permanent rider,” MacLeod sums up.

Bobby analyzes the offer. It’s tempting in many aspects. Fergus just mentioned that the stallion already covered four hundred mares this year. With his stud-fee being at least a thousand dollars, they are looking at twenty grand cut already. Then there’s the regular income, not to mention the bonus. This deal might be the lifeline his family business was frantically fishing for. It’s up to Dean, though. He is the one who is going to work with this horse, and the only one who can make an educated guess if it’s achievable in five months' time.

“We would like to see Cain first,” Bobby decides, wanting to offer his head wrangler a moment to evaluate the animal. “I’m afraid that will not be possible at this time, but I tell you what.” The Brit finishes his bourbon, setting the glass down on the high table. “The horse will be delivered to your property and you will have a week to decide if you want to take on this job. If not, no hard feelings.”

Dean glances aside, spotting the slight nod of his uncle. Seems like they can’t go wrong here; if Cain turns out to be more difficult than Fergus leads on, they can always send him back. “You got yourself a deal,” Bobby concludes, extending his hand to the man in black. “Splendid.” The horse trader smirks, delighted with the arrangement they agreed on, shaking their hands. When he grips Dean’s hand tight, he looks him deep in the eye, as if he recognizes something in the handsome cowboy.

“You’re John’s boy, aren’t ya?” he realizes. “I bought a couple of horses from that Winchester back in the day. How is he?” Tension grips Dean’s body, the sound of his father’s name on Macleod’s tongue sending a shiver down his limbs. He tries to breathe in without it being too obvious, finding it difficult to keep his mask on. “I wouldn’t know,” he answers curtly.

Fergus furrows his brow at that, clearly curious as of why the two aren’t in touch anymore. He allows a silence to linger between them, their handshake holding on to the apprehensiveness. “Hmm,” he responds at the peculiar answer. “Well, you are just like your father. I could’ve sworn it was him when I saw you in the arena earlier; spitting image. You have his ways.”

It’s like MacLeod is deliberately trying to get under his skin, and no matter how hard the young cowboy fights it, the man he’s making a deal with is succeeding. The words spoken with that distinct English accent ring in his head, much louder than they were pronounced, cracking like a whip on his back. You are just like your father. You have his ways.

Dean releases the stallion owner’s hand, quickly slipping his into the back pockets of his jeans, drying his clammy palms on the denim. He hopes neither of the men in his company notice him shaking. He inhales through his nose, squares his shoulders and stands tall, pushing down the anxiousness that is stirring in his stomach. Disappointed in himself, he chews on the inside of his cheek in search for distraction. He can’t let a simple comment get to him like this.

Now that he has shut down the attitude the ranch hand was giving him, the Englishman looks down on Dean with a sinister smile on his lips. He keeps a hold of the Winchester’s gaze, until he averts his green eyes. Only then MacLeod steps away. “We’ll stay in touch. I’ll have my men pick up the two Quarters this afternoon,” Fergus announces, his long, dark overcoat swaying slightly as he turns around once more. “A pleasure doing business with ya.”

With those words, MacLeod walks away and leaves the two men in the middle of the square. The sun is suddenly uncomfortably warm to Dean. He sniffs and takes a few steps from his uncle, as if the two or three strides would actually be enough to walk it off. He places his hands in his side and dips his hat forward when he faces Bobby again, making sure the older man can’t sense how unsettled he is. But Bobby is no fool. He knows his nephew better than the boy’s own father did, and that’s exactly what’s bothering Dean.

“You alright?” he checks. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Dean returns just a little too rapidly, shrugging it off. “Just…” His uncle is careful not to address the subject directly, yet at the same time he needs to offer the opportunity for the wrangler to vent. “With what he said about John--” “Don’t.”

The simple word comes out harsher than he meant it to leave his lips, the darkness in his eyes when he shoots his father-figure a glare soon replaced by regret. Dean knows Bobby is trying, like he and Ellen have for the past fifteen years. But no matter how much time passes, he can’t bring himself to talk about what happened in the past.

His uncle isn’t mad, nor is he disappointed in his surrogate son. He just nods slowly at the dismissal, before he begins to make his way to the stables. Dean remains in the middle of the crossing, his hands still firm on his hips, closing his eyes for a moment as he breathes out. The deal they just made should bring much needed relief, but the meeting leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He gathers himself and follows after his Bobby. They have more showings to prepare for, but nothing can cast out the words spoken by Fergus MacLeod. Not the rhythmic thumping of hooves in the dirt, not the chatter and laughs produced by the growing crowd, nor the music that comes from the main arena. All he can register is the painful message, which reopens the deep scars on his heart every time they bounce off the walls inside his head.

I am just like my father.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty two here

#Ride With Me #Cowboy!Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean series #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester AU #Supernatural AU #Dean fanfiction #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #Dean angst #Dean fluff #Dean x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester #Jo Harvelle #Bobby Singer #Ellen Harvelle #Benny Lafitte #Kate Huntington

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Taste

Summary: The blue bard is sickeningly sweet for Astarion's preferences, but he'll never forget her taste.

Author’s Notes: Taste is a collection of retellings of Astarion's scenes with the player character from the Baldur's Gate 3 early access, but with a little more embellishments. Plus, it has glimpses of my tiefling's backstory.

I had horrible, horrible artist's and writer's block and I needed to get this out of my system to get the creative juices flowing again. Please excuse any typos or lack of quality.

Larian give us the bard class pls I am begging of you

I - Blueberry Wine

The time for rest has come.

Bedrolls are strewn on the campgrounds, and most of its inhabitants are already asleep. Nothing can be heard save for the crackle of fire, the chirp of birds in the woods, and soft snoring.

If it wasn’t for their common goal of removing those damned illithid tadpoles from their heads before they undergo ceremorphosis, the members of this party wouldn’t even spend five minutes within each others’ presence. Now, they’re sleeping in one place. It takes some measure of trust for that.

The dreams of the tiefling in their ragtag group aren’t sweet tonight, to say the least.

Brows furrowed as another nightmare wormed into her psyche, the tiefling tosses and turns in her bedroll, a thin film of sweat giving her forehead a slight sheen in the firelight. Eyes shooting open, she choked back a gasp, lest she wake up her companions in the camp. The crackle of the campfire and the smell of burning wood gave her some semblance of comfort, at least, reminding her of distant memories.

A warm hearth, a kind face, the smell of freshly baked blueberry pie; simple comforts from her youth that she missed terribly.

The comfort that accompanied the nostalgia was enough to make her drift back to sleep. Woefully, it didn’t stop the nightmares from coming back, now centered around the tiefling’s early years.

Small, bare feet pitter-pattered on the wet pavement, frantic gasps escaped her dry mouth. Choking back a sob, more people went after her, shouting, hurling words that scraped her heart.

“Stop! Thief!”

“Devil!”

“Slay the demon!”

Lungs burning from exertion, the little tiefling whelp coughs, rasps for air, and slides under a cart. In the dark, she can see a narrow alleyway, which she scurries into. The men run past her hiding spot, cursing and muttering amongst themselves. Relief floods through her as their torchlights grew dim.

Safe, at last.

Her trembling arms had been holding on to precious cargo; a stale loaf of bread, wrapped in linen. It’s not a delectable morsel of steak, or rich bone marrow, but it’s better than the rocks she grinded with her sharp teeth for breakfast.

As she takes it out of the cloth, a stone drops in her stomach and horror twists on her young face. The tiefling isn’t holding a loaf of bread, but a severed head of a drow. A scream threatened to escape her throat and pierce the night air, but the tiefling maiden could only gasp as she felt a presence behind her.

Wine red eyes still heavy with sleep met with alert, ruby ones. She isn’t dreaming any longer.

In the dim firelight, she sees him. Astarion.

Truth be told, she doesn’t quite know what to feel about the posh elf. Astarion’s handsome face and fair curls are easy on the eyes, but it only reminded her of how hellish she looks in comparison due to her infernal ancestry. His sharp, calculating eyes puts her at unease, even when his gaze isn’t directed towards her. He has a way of making people feel beneath him, like vulnerable prey. Serenity is not exempt from that, despite her efforts to be pleasant to him. Not to mention, Astarion’s attitude and mannerisms reminded her of the uppity nobles she had the displeasure of encountering in her colorful past.

In short, he’s a handsome fellow with a revolting attitude, at least to Serenity’s standards. Lust and indignation battles with each other in the tiefling’s psyche.

It doesn’t help at all that the elf is fond of calling her pet names, such as “sweetheart” or “dear”. No one calls her such sweet things with genuine intent, not after she saw the drow’s head on a pike, and to hear them from his condescending mouth stirs something dark in her heart.

It especially inflames her whenever he calls her “darling”.

She wanted to pounce on him. However, she wasn’t sure what she wanted after that.

Tear his pretty face asunder with her nails and watch his handsome features contort in agony, perhaps? Or watch him writhe underneath her in a more… carnal manner as she takes out all of her frustration by mashing her ravenous mouth against his lovely lips?

Maybe both?

“Oh, Serenity. You have no need for that sort of… decadence,” she thinks to herself.

Alas, her body says otherwise.

“Shit,” he says upon meeting eyes with her, distracting the tiefling from her thoughts. Serenity didn’t expect such a vulgar word to come out of his pretty mouth, and she didn’t expect the gleaming fangs inside of it either.

How could she not see it the first few times?

The dead boar they found on the road, the fact that she had never seen him consume any food, and the wolfish way he eyes her neck when he thought she wasn’t looking should’ve given it away.

Astarion is a vampire. Worse, he's a vampire who’s intending to sink his teeth in Serenity’s neck.

Whatever terrible things she secretly wanted to do to him, she had no chance of enacting them in this situation. Hells, if anything, Astarion is the one with the capacity to do terrible things to her. The tiefling will be at his mercy, if she doesn’t act fast. So, why isn’t her body doing anything to move?

Heart racing, she needed to say something, at least.

“Stop,” Serenity warns him, voice low, baring her own sharp teeth. The tiefling had considered smashing her precious lute over his head as a last resort. Before the bard can lash out, he pulls back, alarmed.

“No no, it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Astarion hastily blurts, panic evident in his voice. “ I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed- well, blood.”

The elf’s admission confirms it; Astarion is a vampire, a creature enslaved to sanguine hunger.

At that moment, an expression that Serenity hasn’t seen on the elf before twists his features: guilt. The vampire knew he’s betraying her trust, and it shows.

“How long since you killed someone? Days? Hours?” Serenity asks, on guard now, but still sitting on her bedroll.

Eyes widening, Astarion’s tone becomes defensive. “I’ve never killed anyone!” he exclaims. Then, his expression turns grim. “Well, not for food. I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds! Whatever I can get.”

The lass feels slightly reassured that she’s not dealing with a blood-sucking serial killer, but the possibility of him lying puts her on edge again.

“But it’s not enough,” the pale elf speaks again. Serenity half expected him to say this, he did try to bite her after all. “Not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak.”

And there it was, the last thing she expected from him: vulnerability. His reluctance to show weakness was written all over his face. Perhaps it wounds his pride? Regardless of the doubt she has for him, it changed Serenity’s perception of the vampire ever so slightly.

“If I just had a bit of blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

Now this is a pleasant surprise. Astarion saying please? Is this a dream?

Still, the tiefling wanted to dig deeper at the truth. Brows knitting together in concentration, she knew better than to use the tadpole, but the damn thing established a psionic link with other infected individuals.

Serenity pushes into the vampire’s mind to search for the truth.

“I- what’s this? What’s happening?” Astarion blurts, experiencing slight discomfort from the intrusion.

Pushing deep into the elf’s cracked and quivering memories, Serenity strains as she sifts through centuries worth of them, until she has reached its heart. There, she found herself in Astarion’s shoes; quite literally. She sees dark eyes that commanded her to feed, and instinctively, her body follows suit. Serenity, experiencing this through Astarion’s memory, opens her mouth, biting down, but not into a tender, pulsing neck. Though she wanted to recoil in disgust, there was no other choice; she couldn’t physically resist. The choice had been made for her- no, made for Astarion.

Astarion’s fangs pierce the twisting body of a rat - the only thing his master allows him to eat.

In return, Serenity’s own memories leak through the cracks of her psyche, and Astarion finds himself in the body of a wee girl with horns too big for her head. Ravenously, he inhales the sweet, buttery aroma of a freshly-baked pie resting on a windowsill. Astarion’s hands, now small and of bluish color, reach for the baked good with caution. A warm, ash-colored hand presses on his shoulder, and he sees the smiling face of a tall, drow man. Instead of hurting him for attempting to steal, the dark elf ushers him to a table, and offers him a slice with a compassionate smile. Serenity will never forget her first taste of the buttery pie crust, the sweet blueberries, and a hint of lemon and salt.

Now, Astarion will never forget that taste, either.

The connection between them severed, Serenity takes a moment to collect herself.

“You ate animals because you were forced to. Not because you wanted to,” she mumbles, eyebrows knitted together. Is it sympathy? Or perhaps his experiences reminded her of her own relationship with food?

Whatever it was, the tiefling’s perception of Astarion drastically shifted. On the surface, Astarion is a noble who turns up his nose at folks like her, but in truth, he suffered under the hands of a cruel master.

Being a pompous ass is a defense mechanism for him.

“I- yes,” Astarion says with resignation. “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So, you can see why I’m slow to trust you,” he continues, and Serenity swore the expression he wore on his face tugged a few strings in her heart.

“But I do trust you, and you can trust me,” Astarion tells her.

Serenity thinks it might not be fair for her not to. How can she say that she can’t, after she saw his past for herself, and he didn’t show any hostility towards her for intruding upon his darkest, most haunting memories?

“I do. I believe you,” the bard responds, and she can hear his relief when he mutters “Thank you.”

Perhaps Serenity had judged him too harshly in the past. The drow who took her in cultivated compassion in her heart, and it’s beckoning to her.

“Do you need blood?” Serenity asks him, and there is genuine surprise on his face.

“I was about to ask,” he tells her, expression shifting into something more pleasant. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

“As long as you don’t take a drop more than you need,” Serenity replies, loosening her clothing slightly, her smallclothes peeking through.

“Really?” he asks, and he sounds almost eager.

“I- of course. Not one drop more.”

That damn vampire flashes her a smile that sends lightning rippling through her veins.

Astarion’s yearning eyes flicked to her exposed flesh, barely making out the purple tinge on her bluish skin as blood rushed from her chest to her face. Seeing where his eyes are roaming, Serenity feels her heart racing faster, and she swiftly lies down, back turned away from him. The tiefling bard is not about to let her companion see her flustered state.

Face inches away from her head, Astarion catches a whiff of the tiefling’s scent. He quietly thanked the gods that she didn’t smell of sulfur or rotting meat; instead, the bard smells of ash from freshly burned incense, laced with a warm, spiced scent.

The vampire holds her gently, delicately, until he strikes.

Astarion sinks deep, fangs like shards of ice piercing her neck. Serenity lets out a gasp, and her face contorts into an expression of pain and discomfort. Thankfully, the pain is quick and sharp, and as the vampire continues to feed, it fades gently into throbbing numbness. The bard feels her blood coursing through her body, into Astarion’s mouth, who sucked and slurped it hungrily.

He leans forward, one arm almost draping over the bard’s torso to support his weight, while the other still holds her head. Palm running through her short obsidian hair, he stops as they touch one of her horns, hand enclosing into a fist around it. Gently tugging, the elf tilts her head for better access.

Astarion’s lips are wet from his meal’s blood and sweat, and his own saliva. They glided on the sensitive skin ever so slightly as he pursed them and sucked harder. Serenity found her breath catching in her throat from his actions, pulse quickening as her hand flew to grasp Astarion’s arm, filed fingernails turning white at the end.

In a figurative and literal sense, she’s holding on to dear life.

“Ah, Astarion, that’s enough,” she mewls, hand moving to grasp his hair, fingernails running through his scalp. Not enough to hurt, but enough for the vampire to snap out of it due to the sensation it produced.

The vampire moans, almost carnally, then it is followed by a surprised, questioning grunt. Serenity’s pleas, and the scrape of her fingernails took him from his trance-like state. Immediately, he removes himself from her neck, swallowing thickly.

“Oh. Of course.”

Serenity sits up as he pulls back, light-headed from the blood loss. She turns to the pale elf, her breathing ragged as her fingers gingerly pressed on her bite wound. The tiefling felt a blush creep on her face, neck, and pointy ears as she gazes upon Astarion’s face. In the firelight, she can see that his pupils are blown out in ecstasy, and blood is trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“That- that was amazing,” Astarion purrs, wiping off her blood and bringing his fingers to his mouth, savoring it to the last drop. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel…”

He pauses, and Serenity stopped breathing for a moment.

“Happy,” he continued, sighing in contentment as he gave her a gentle, genuine smile.

Serenity had to blink a few times to confirm that she wasn’t seeing things.

She clears her throat, hoping to dissipate the delicious tension between them. “I look forward to seeing you fight,” the bard says to him, drawing her knees to her chest.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing,” Astarion responds, bowing ever so slightly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more… filling.”

The pale elf turns around and just like that, he is back to normal, snobbish self.

Serenity slumps back on her bedroll, exhaling slowly as her heart finally slows down. Her body crashes from the surge of adrenaline and the blood loss. Turning her head, she watches as the elf stalks towards the forest; stronger, more confident, and ready to hunt.

“This is a gift, you know,” Astarion tells her, back still turned from her, looking over his shoulder.

“I won’t forget it.”

Serenity won’t forget it either.

It didn’t take long before Astarion found a deer in the forest. As he drank the beast’s blood, he couldn’t help but compare the taste to Serenity’s blood. The animal is more filling indeed, but now? Nothing compares to the taste of the tiefling’s delicious blood.

She is the first humanoid he ever tasted, after all.

And how will he describe her taste?

The darling tiefling is bubbly, gentle, and sweet, much like her demeanor; almost sickeningly so, for his standards. It’s comparable to the Monastery of the Yellow Rose’s blueberry wine: a fragrant dessert wine he had the pleasure of consuming with delicate cheeses and light cakes back when he didn’t have any fangs.

Or perhaps he had associated her with the fruit due to her memories mingling with his.

Either way, when he said that he won’t forget it, he wasn’t just referring to the favor she did for him. Astarion was referring to Serenity’s taste as well.

Meanwhile, in the camp, Serenity draws her lute to her chest, plucking the strings softly in an attempt to lull herself to sleep. It doesn’t ease her into slumber like it usually does. Sighing, she squeezes her thighs together, heat pooling between them as she recalled the vampire’s lips on her pulsing neck. Perhaps it’s not the lute that she should be plucking at.

Reaching into the waistband of her trousers, the bard gives in to her secret desires.

At least there weren’t any more nightmares for the night.

#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x mc #oc: serenity | zalia #tiefling #tiefling character #tiefling bard #cw: blood

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taylizmasterpost · 4 years

Text

Reconciliation and Late-Stage Tayliz (September 2014 - Present)

Despite not seeing each other for a while, Taylor and Liz clearly still hold a soft spot in each other’s hearts.

During the Secret Sessions for 1989 in Nashville, fans took pictures in Taylor’s home, and you can clearly see she has photos from Charleston displayed:

When it came time to mend the fences between Taylor and Liz, Claire Callaway was the one who ended up doing it:

2 October 2014 - Claire tweets a TBT to the Charleston trip. Liz responds to it:

That seems to get the ball rolling, because when Taylor drops Out of the Woods as a single, this happens:

14 October 2014 - Taylor and Liz tweet about how much they miss each other:

Then, when Taylor walks the runaway with Karlie at the VSFS, this happens:

Taylor is with Karlie at the time, and obviously nothing romantic is happening on Liz’s end either, because...

20 December 2014 - Liz gets engaged to Bryan Brown and has dinner with friends:

16 February 2015 - Liz tweets that Taylor is badass

8 April 2016 - Liz makes this gay post on Facebook that I’d like to think is a response to Style, since the MV had come out a few months before:

And Liz seems to have found a group of gay friends...

Although, that could just be a typo.

15 July 2015 - Liz posts on Facebook that “Thanks to some really talented friends, I got to record something beautiful today. Can’t wait to share this one.” The picture she attaches definitely looks like Taylor:

Liz also tweets this:

We do NOT know where Taylor was that day. However, she performed in DC on the 1989 tour on the 14th and was papped in NYC on the 16th so it’s not impossible she was in Nashville working on something with Liz. Unfortunately, whatever they worked on has yet to surface (unless you subscribe to the theory that Liz is WB...)

3 August 2015 - Shawn Brooks releases a song called Matter of Time that was written sometime in 2014 by Liz.

Notable lyrics include:

She’s got me lovestruck, crazy Going out of my mind She’s got me lovestruck, crazy But sooner or later, she’s gonna be mine It’s just a matter of time

Don’t know what this means for Liz or TayLiz, since Liz has been with Bryan since early 2013 at the latest, but this is very gay and fun.

27 August 2015 - Thirst tweet:

31 August 2015 - Liz calls Taylor sexy in response to the Wildest Dreams MV:

15 October 2015 - Liz tweets about Better Than Revenge:

28 October 2015 - Liz quote tweets Taylor about OOTW acoustic:

11 November 2015 - Liz responds to Caitlin’s tweet tagging Taylor about nostalgia:

9 December 2015 - Liz congratulates Taylor on her Grammy noms:

13 December 2015 - Taylor’s birthday. Liz wishes her HBD:

29 January 2016 - Liz says her favorite song from 1989 is This Love:

15 February 2016 - Liz and Taylor both attend UMG’s Grammys afterparty at the Ace Hotel Theater :

26 February 2016 - Liz posts a TBT to Charleston:

16 April 2016 - Liz and Taylor both attend Coachella:

6 May 2016 - Liz tweets about This Love:

10 May 2016 - Liz possibly writes STFU and Hold Me (likely about Bryan, since he’s out on tour with the woman he’s going to leave Liz for, signaling to me that their relationship is on the fritz):

4 August 2016 - Liz posts a throwback to the Vogue photoshoot at the Bowery.

3 September 2016 - Liz and Bryan’s last interaction on Twitter:

(Bryan had been on tour with Jillian -- who he’d later marry -- and tweeting at her all summer, much more than he’d been tweeting with Liz). It’s important to note the way their relationship ended for when we start studying who Liz’s songs are about.

26 November 2016 - Liz tweets about Clean, possibly signaling her and Bryan have broken up by this point:

13 December 2016 - Liz wishes Taylor happy birthday with a post about Charleston (captions vary based on site). This also signals to me that her and Bryan are over, since she’s reminiscing on Taylor picking her up off the ground after her breakup with Jason:

11 July 2017 - Liz tells a fan that You Are In Love and All Too Well are her favorite songs from 1989 and Red (guess her favorite song is no longer This Love…):

11 August 2017 - Liz releases STFU and Hold Me:

youtube

This MV has a LOT of parallels to the IKYWT video. The lyrics talk about “staring with a bang” (”took off faster than a green light go”?), and reckless abandon (”this path is reckless”). MV parallels are as follows (thank you @mercuryonparklane for all the help finding this):

(notice the key necklace?)

So, either Liz is lowkey ripping off Taylor’s work or she’s trying to signal that she was the muse for IKYWT. However, considering Liz is deliberately trying to keep her image separate from Taylor, it doesn’t make any sense that she would try and rip her off. Of course, it could just be a big coincidence...

30 September 2017 - In an interview with The Young Folks, Liz says that STFU and Hold Me is about “getting to that point in a relationship where you’re sick of going around and around talking about the same issue with your partner and it’s time to wave the white flag,” Huett says. “We’ve all been there.”

Of the lyrics “I’m coming from a line of problems / I was born and I became a product” Liz says “I’m not exactly the most polished person. I’d rather be real than perfect and sometimes that means I say things that make people uncomfortable or act out in relationships and test limits, etc… I’m an honest mess but I believe I can and should be loved in light of that. :)”

I still think this song was written about the end of her relationship with Bryan, but it’s still interesting to see how Liz describes herself in relationships.

27 October 2017 - Liz releases H8U

youtube

This is another song that I think was written about Bryan. The lyrics reference taking another woman to a Tom Petty concert (Liz LOVES Tom Petty) and generally moving on quickly with another woman, which seems apt for the Bryan/Jillian situation going on.

HOWEVER, the lyrics also reference “our first date two years ago,” which doesn’t make any sense, since Liz and Bryan didn’t break up until 2016 and were together since early 2013. So it could maybe be lyrically about Taylor.

I do think the MV makes a deliberate Taylor reference, though, with the interrupting the wedding scene. Taylor famously had Liz dress as the Bridezilla on the Speak Now album art:

And, at the end of the H8U MV, Liz DOES kiss the blonde bride on the mouth after interrupting her wedding... which is... INTERESTING (especially since Liz is dressed in full RED the whole MV):

I don’t think it’s a stretch to presume Liz could’ve reversed their roles here. IDK.

9 November 2017 - Liz makes her “H8U, love these” playlist on Spotify, which features All Too Well.

1 November 2017 - Liz obsesses over Reputation:

15 November 2017 - Taylor posts an IG story with photos of her Liz and Caitlin in Australia in the background:

13 December 2017 - Liz wishes Taylor happy birthday:

20 December 2017 - In a now deleted tweet Liz obsesses over New Year’s Day

6 April 2018 - Liz releases Don’t LV U Anymore. Here are some interesting lyrics:

I don't steal your chapstick anymore / Don't wake up to your kiss anymore / And I don't have a washer and dryer full of guitar picks anymore / 'Cause you don't come over to my place anymore / Don't flirt with my roommate anymore / And I don't run to your friends / To get them on my side when we fight anymore / And I never say it / I keep it inside / But maybe I'm wasted / Or maybe it's time to get this off my chest, babe / ... / I don't love you anymore / But I don't love you any less / I don't play you my songs anymore / To see if they're good anymore / You don't tell me your secrets / 'Cause you don't know if I keep them to myself anymore / I don't go to church anymore / Don't know what to believe anymore / And I don't remember the beat of your heart / The smell of your car anymore / ... / Two years and counting / Still got all this weight on my chest / Two years and counting / And I can't remember what I can't forget

Based on the “two years and counting” line, as well as the line about a washer and dryer of guitar picks, I’m inclined to believe this is another song about Bryan.

However, it is a really similar sentiment to that Civil Wars song Liz posted back when her and Taylor first ended things, and the line about running to get friends on a side when fighting is very similar to the “you go talk to your friends, talk to my friends talk to me” in WANEGBT and the image in Battle/Let’s Go of all their friends standing around watching them fight. Could go either way.

9 April 2018 - Liz reposts a Facebook post announcing Dammit that implies it was written a while ago. But we already knew that.

19 May 2018 - Reputation in Pasadena. Liz attends. Surprise Song: All Too Well. Camila Cabello is the opening act.

27 May 2018 - Liz gives an interview at Bottlerock festival where she says that Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus is a song she used to get over someone (likely Bryan). She also says Havana was the song she last had stuck in her head -- probably because Camila performed it at Taylor’s show the previous week.

14 March 2019 - Liz makes a happy birthday post for Antoni (who’s dating her friend Trace):

27 April 2019 - Bryan and Jillian get married:

3 May 2019 - Liz releases Nothing Personal:

youtube

This feels like DIRECT BRYAN SHADE, since she released it right after his wedding. However, you definitely could also read it as being about being let go from The Agency.

Early May 2019 - Taylor shoots YNTCD. Her and Antoni bond over their love of The National (keep in mind Taylor would end up asking a member of the National to work on exile with her):

17 June 2019 - Liz likes Taylor’s post announcing YNTCD is out:

26 June 2019 - Liz posts on IG a video of unreleased song “One of These Days” with the caption “i’m emo” Lyrics:

One of these days I’ll rise above the blue / One of these days when I get sober too / I’ll be flying high you know / Gonna say I told you so / One of these days I’ll rise above the blue / The stars will align / My heart will come back to life / I won’t have to cry anymore / Someday soon, when I / When I get over you / One of these nights I’m gonna get some sleep / One of these nights you won’t be in my dreams / I will lay this love to rest / I will miss you in this bed / One of these nights I’m gonna get some sleep / The stars will align / My heart will come back to life / I won't have to cry anymore / Someday soon, someday / When I get over you

More evidence that Liz does, indeed, struggle with the things that Reddit post suggested.

14 August 2019 - Liz posts on IG a video of an unreleased song called “I Wanted It to Be You” with the caption “I really did” and a red rose emoji. Lyrics:

I’ll find someone else to take your place / In no time at all I’ll be okay / So you don’t have to say it babe / We don’t have to cry / ‘Cause I know you got shit to do / And baby so do I / I’ll find someone else to take your place, hey / I wanted it to be you I’m closing down the bar with / I wanted it to be you I’m fighting in the car with / Who I could push away / Come back and beg to stay / Ooh, I wanted it, I wanted it, I wanted it / I wanted it to be you

Likely for Bryan BUT maybe a red rose grew up out of frozen ground with no one around to tweet it (lol I’m joking the lakes is very likely not about Liz).

22 August 2019 - Taylor releases the Lover MV, featuring the “breakable heaven” board game:

In the bottom left corner, you can spot a blue 0527. May 27th is Liz’s birthday. What does this mean? I don’t know. I absolutely do not know, but whatever it is is driving me INSANE.

28 August 2019 - Liz posts on Twitter a screenshot of her listening to Cornelia Street:

16 October 2019 - Liz comments on a fan’s video of Taylor performing at the NPR Tiny Desk concert saying “she cute”:

19 November 2019 - Liz says on IG that her favorite songs from Lover are The Archer and Cornelia Street:

22 November 2019 - Liz releases That’s What You Get. This is the one late-stage Liz song that I FULLY BELIEVE is about TayLiz due to a few very specific lyric parallels:

“That’s what you get when you recklessly fall in love” >> “This path is reckless” from Treacherous

“That’s what you get for keeping your armor up” >> “You come around and the armor falls” from State of Grace >> “I would put my armor down if you said you’d rather love than fight” from Story of Us.

“And all your friends are lining up to hate me” >> “You go talk to your friends talk to my friends talk to me” from WANEGBT >> “First shot’s fired everybody’s gathered around” from Battle >> “I can't run to your friends anymore / To get them on my side when we fight anymore” from Don’t LV U Anymore.

It also, just from an outside perspective, doesn’t make any sense for Liz to write a breakup song about Bryan blaming herself when it seems very clear to me that they broke up because Bryan wanted to be with Jillian instead. That’s not her fault. So either this is about another breakup (I’d guess Taylor, based on the lyric parallels), or she’s just very very self-loathing and won’t let herself think it’s Bryan’s fault (which both H8U and Nothing Personal don’t suggest to me).

25 November 2016 - Liz posts a video on her IG story about Taylor at the VMAs.

6 December 2019 - Liz talks about That’s What You get with Earmilk and gives an interesting quote:

Huett explains, “This song is about facing myself after a brutal season of running from it... I made a self-destructive choice that hurt someone I really value. The angle of the chorus is really sort of a letter to me after that first long look in the mirror. It SUCKED. However, in owning my shit (and sharing this song) my hope is that listeners might apply the sad lesson without having to learn the hard way, or, if they’ve ever found themselves in the regretful position I was once in, I hope this song can at least make them feel less alone."

This is SO DIFFERENT fro mhow her relationship with Bryan ended, but matches up so well with Liz getting help and owning her shit after spiraling in 2012.

24 July 2020 - Folklore drops. Two of the songs are written by the mysterious William Bowery. One of those songs is Betty -- a popular nickname for Elizabeth. Liz tweets at Taylor about the 1 because all of Taylor’s exes wanna think that song is about them.

So, IN CONCLUSION: Liz got help and worked through her shit and they’re on good terms now. They were possibly working on something together in 2015, although that never saw the light of day as far as we know. Liz seems to maybe be referencing Taylor in her music and MVs, but there’s no way to know for sure. Better Than Revenge on the Speak Now Tour was an iconic moment of sapphic energy, and maybe, just maybe, when Taylor re-records her masters, Liz will sing backup for her again.

Thanks for reading!

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inhibited-irregularity · 3 years

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EUROVISION 2021, personal favorites:

- Russia 🇷🇺

Manizha, Russian Woman: Absolute favorite. The sheer originality of the song! Her energy and the level of absolute badassery! She can sing, she can rap,and she's a bomb of energy. The way reggae and brass and hiphop and Slavic melodies overlap and it somehow works, the transitions between fun and "I'm bitter about the sexism and I'm mocking it unapologetically and making a stand" and the anthemic, emphatic and powerful message to Russian women; I was swelling with emotion while watching her. While to an American or a Westerner it may seem like performative feminism, I'm gonna remind you that in Russia and other Slavic countries that's very much not a thing and actually a very unpopular stand to make, and in Russia, The Balkans, and Eastern Europe in general, hundreds of women face domestic and sexual abuse on the daily, and those who do come forward rarely get support and are mostly dismissed. Let's not forget that Manizha got a huge backlash from the Russian government officials, and a big part of it was for her Tajik roots. The honesty of her message is real, and she's speaking from personal experience and the experience of women around her - nothing performative about her song, and you can tell from her delivery that the fire within her is true and she leaves her heart on the stage and pours it into the song. The staging and costumes are great as well, and symbolically well thougt-through. I would really like her to win, or at least get to the top 5. Most of all, I hope her message is heard and felt. 10000/10

- Italy 🇮🇹

Måneskin, Zitti e Buoni: definitely the closest thing to my actual music taste this year, so liking them off the bat wasn't a surprise. However, they're not just your regular Franz-Ferdinand-ish young alt rock band that wants to do rock "properly" - they have IT. The X factor, the Je ne sais quoi. I've been exposed to that particular genre, and I can confidently say that the song still manages to be refreshing and original (that bridge, those riffs!) The band has a great energy and no matter how much Damiano steals the show, they are still a unit and nobody is left in the shadows. They have the spirit of great rock bands of the previous century, and yet they don't try to copy anyone (khm,Greta Van Fleet, khm). Damiano's vocals are both powerful, seductive and provoking, and I'm still admiring the sheer amount of emotion he can pack into a single line and the nuance and yet rawness behind it. I'm not gonna state the obvious lol (the obvious being yes, I'm thirsty as well, he becomes yet another unattainable rockstar for me too,and yes they all look great) Anyway, great song, and maybe the clearest and most serious candidate for the number one spot, taking both the jury and the public into consideration. 10/10

- Iceland 🇮🇸

Daði Freyr and Gagnamagnið, 10 years:

What can I say about this masterpiece that hasn't already been said? A clear fan-favorite (hi, Valentina), but with the guns to back it up. The song is contagious, fun and campy, and unlike some other songs with said qualities, actually good from a musical perspective. Daði is incredibly charismatic and his sense of humor shines through, and even though he's the star of the show, the same can be said about the other band members. The synergy Måneskin has can be applied to Gagnamagnið as well, even though the energy is entirely different. They're serving us fun, sunshine, kitties rainbows sugar spice and everything nice, and manage to do it with zero cringe factor (plus those funky keytars). I'm one of those Eurovision fans that lament the golden age's (2004-2009) campiness (We'll never forget you, Verka), and Daði managed to bring it back, but modernised, polished and still sincere. I personally preferred the epic dad joke that slightly more commercial Think About Thing was (but that's one tough act to follow), but I'm always down for a husband adoring his wife and singing praises to their relationship. Since we're on tumblr, I feel obliged to use the term "cinnamon rolls" in describing Daði and the band. 9.5/10

- France 🇫🇷

Barbara Pravi, Voilà: She brought the theatrics, she brought the drama, and she brought the 101 in "that's how you perform". Her personality leaps through, and her voice is both beautiful and full of emotion and power. I'd hire her to star in a serious and artistic movie. Despite the fact that Voilà is from its melody to the singing style to the video to the vibe and the aesthetic hands down the most French thing I've seen since Amélie (do not come for that movie), it miraculously doesn't come across as a cliché, but rather an homage, and an individualistic one at that. It's not entirely my cup of tea, since I'm usually biased to songs that may come off as snobbish (I mean, the jury is going to lap it up), and are all about being proper and technical and oh how ~artistic~, but Barbara puts the soul into the immaculate. I'm not giving her the highest mark because I'm yet to see the performance, but I'm rooting for her. If she delivers the performance, we might have a clear winner. 9/10

- Ukraine 🇺🇦

Go_A, Shum: I'm a sucker for all things ethnic and mytological, so this was a no-brainer. I want that song played at every party. I want to go to the forest in the video and chant and summon the spring with flute and hard-bass. Kateryna Pavlenko has some unexplainable power over me, and her eyes are simply hypnotizing. The vocals are great, proper Slavic ethno right there (seriously, check out Slavic folklore and traditional music), and she has a subtle punk quality too(?). Ukraine came to save the spring and make us forget about the pandemic, and minus the Maruv fiasco (justice for her!), they always deliver and I expected nothing less. On the other hand, I loved the original version much more and couldn't help but be a bit disappointed with the revamp (yes, I know they had to), and while I personally love Shum, I think some other acts are more deserving of the higher placement. Go_A are not my winner, but definitely soon to be in my playlist. 8/10

- San Marino 🇸🇲

Adrenalina, Senhit ft. Flo Rida: You know that golden age of Eurovision I mentioned? THIS. I'm Serbian, so I can't resist a banger reminiscent of our horrible turbo-folk elements (and I say that endearingly,takes me back to 18th birthday parties (boy I'm glad that's over)). Let's just crown Senhit this year's Queen of Camp. The wild factor of Flo Rida...just?? Amazing. Can't wait to see how the performance goes (EDIT- it went great, I had a grin on my face the entire time and couldn't help but dance along). A certain refreshment after Serhat and Valentina Monetta endless loop. They didn't dial down the weird, but made it catchy af, and the vocal can rival any Balkan folk diva. While I think it's definitely the most entertaining entry this year, it's far from being the most original, and it's not really my genre of preference. Will vote for Senhit and root for her to qualify. 7.5/ 10

- Sweden 🇸🇪

Tusse, A million voices: As I mentioned before, I'm the first person that starts complaining about Sweden Superiority as soon as Eurovision season begins, and I'm with you all with being tired of Sweden qualifying just because they're Sweden and usually just bringing the same brand of MTV/Calvin Harris/American pop, or a successful and not-so-subtle imitation of the performances that did well the previous year,but listen: A million voices is a solid pop song and I'm going to die on that hill. It actually embodies the essence of pop - a catchy, pleasant melody sung by a good vocalist, with a short,sweet and uplifting message. It's not the same as previous years, it's not commercial, just good pop - good pop being something you immediately like and vibe to no matter how many common elements of the genre it checks. It relies on RnB rather than electronic sounds, auto tune or various DJ effects. Tusse is charming and charismatic af, and he's a 19yo kid doing an amazing job on a global stage. You don't have to like it, but there's no need to hate on it (ask Jendrik). Imo, Tusse deserved to qualify. Not winner material yet, but I wish him a fun time and a successful career. 7 5/10

- Switzerland 🇨🇭

G'jons Tears, Tout L'Univers: I saw the video first, and I HATED IT. It came across as a Duncan Lawrence-high-art wannabe, something technically perfect, but empty of soul or meaning, another soft boy with a sad falsetto, another jury-points bait. BUT. I changed my mind entirely after seeing him perform. Hands down, it was touching and epic. Reminding me of Hamlet aside, he DELIVERED, and made me love him, and actually enjoy the song. I still think the song is less original than Tusse's voices, but I enjoy the troubadour vibes of the pre-chours. G'jon is absolutely adorable, and I'm not gonna be mad if he wins. 8/10

shout-outs&honorable mentions:

- Serbia 🇷🇸 Yes, some national bias, but I'm proud of our girls. Ever Since we placed 2nd with Željko's Lane, we had that goddamn flute e v e r y year, and the same outdated scenography with a side of extra pathos (I'm sure that ruined Sanja's chances and her otherwise great performance back in 2016.) Finally something fun and actually representative of the music popular here. They looked flawless and the energy was off the charts. Go, Hurricane!

-Finland 🇫🇮 Yes, cheesy and corny and I cut my finger accidentally from watching the video on all the edge, but I'm biased because they're bringing emo and nu-metal back, and that's the music of my early adolescence (hello, Kaulitz brothers and Andy Biersack,hello Gerard Way and Linkin Park) Call me grandma lol

- Malta 🇲🇹 DESTINY CAN SIIIIIIIIING! I wasn't impressed with the song initially, but the performance blew my mind.

- Ireland 🇮🇪 A for effort, and so nice of her to try and give us something unique! While it wasn't good enough to qualify, it was super fun and she seems so nice. Also, we all know that she was out of breath an can sing much better than that. Still wasn't bad.

- Romania 🇷🇴, for being so young and brave enough to put on a show. The nerves got the better of her, but the song itself is good and no doubt she'll do well in the future

- Lithuania 🇱🇹, thanks for the memeries

- Croatia 🇭🇷, Not my cup of tea, but Albina gave a great performance

-Norway 🇳🇴, for embodying the spirit of Eurovision

- North Macedonia 🇲🇰, for the disco chest

- The UK 🇬🇧, for putting some effort

(Might edit later)

#eurovison #eurovision 2021 #rotterdam #the netherlands #russia #malta #italy #france #iceland #sweden #serbia #esc 2021 #switzerland #san marino #ukraine

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aerltarg · 3 years

Note

2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 26, 27 from ask game

2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?

oh, it's actually hard to answer bc pretty often my otps can work as brotps for me as well. it also means that when i can't ship some characters they don't work for me as friends either. not to mention that in asoiaf i'm open to many ships, and if i'm not very passionate about some it's not a sign i can't see them in romantic light.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

may i say any sansa ship? 😭 as well as sansa herself lmao. idk generally i can't ship characters i don't like because i'm just not interested. and it's not to say i don't like book!sansa (show!sansa is another case 💀), i just don't find her arc as intriguing and epic as arcs of some other characters. however, it's absolutely her obnoxious fandom's fault that i don't want to touch anything about her now, pairings including. sansaery? pass. sansan? i used to have a soft spot for them in my heart but now? nah. sansa x anyone? pls have mercy, she's already a fandom bicycle.

and jonsa ofc. i would never mind some crack ship as i do this one if not for their obnoxious stans that did way too much to list there right now. but this burning desire to persuade every rock on the street that your crack ship is canon will never stop being ridiculous lmao

also braime. tbh i used to low-key like them but some of their stans weirded my away lol. i get that not all of them are like that but still. it's generally my great pain when i see braime/brienne/jaime stans who are also dany/targ antis. every time i see them i cackle and run away as fast as i can crying from disappointment lmao. it's really a pity because i'm either very neutral or like in my own way all three of them.

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

jonrya it is! i never hated them, you know, but they never were more than siblings and brotp to me. however, later i encountered the deluded crack ship fandom that shall not be named and understood that if there is any possible romance for jon with any of his sisters-cousins we all know which one it will be lmao. also their stans are very sweet and i really like many of their takes on arya and jon! i generally love relationships of jon and arya very much so it wasn't that difficult in practice to see them in a quite different light.

7. Is there anything you used to like but can't stand now?

meta culture lmao. reading different analysis and interpretations of the text used to be very interesting to me (and still is tbh but in other fandoms) though asoiaf is a different case. imo many people aren't honest in their so called theories and analyses. i get that all of us are biased but some "meta writers'" denial of their own biases influence fandom in a bad way. it looks like too many people run to them to get answers to their questions about any minor detail as if they were grrm himself. yk instead of using their own reading comprehension lmao. you see how this meta culture ruined fandom just looking at the most delusional stans and shippers who spread their agenda by writing endless text posts full of nonsense and bullshit but styled as oh so intellectual and thoughtful analysis. it's insane how many people actually buy it and don't check canon accuracy of such claims themselves. it got to the ridiculous point when random people try to argue with you with some far-fetched embarrassing "theories" as if they were canon facts or quotes straight up from a fanfic because they read somewhere some other confused soul's post and got from a context that this quote is canon (despite the fact that it wasn't written in grrm's style at all but some people can't use their brains even if their lives depended on it it seems).

anyway it's become too long and rambly already so tldr. because of such "neutral unbiased" analyses i got the habit of fact checking almost everything i see in such posts. there's only a small amount of meta writers from targ/dany/jon/arya stans that i trust because i know by practice and following them for some time that they don't pull anything out of nowhere, back up everything they say with canon quotes, don't decontextualize anything and (that is the most important thing to me) are reasonable and open to discussion unlike so many bnfs nowadays.

8. Have you received anon hate? What about?

ah, not in this fandom yet, god bless! i think i'm not loud enough for the needed amount of time to deserve it lol. but since i'm not going anywhere soon maybe one day i will 😂

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

robert baratheon and tywin lannister, obviously. tbh it's pretty hard for me to hate any characters because you know. they're fictional lmao. just lines on paper, they can't hurt you. and even such dudes as tywin or robert don't get real distaste from me if they're written well enough. my problem with them lies not only in their canon crimes and shitty consequences of those but in fandom's (or at least some parts of it) unwillingness to acknowledge that they're canonically written as shitty, not as stan/pity/worship material. tywin isn't as clever as some think and robert is a coward outside of battlefield, not to mention some absolutely disgusting denial of his nature from targ antis only because the man happened to be the most vocal targ hater in-universe so these folks feel like he is their main book representative and whitewash him completely lmao

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

uugh idk even. i'm either low-key interested (or used to be at least so i can stay pretty neutral for the sake of nostalgia lol) or too indifferent to really care.

11. Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn't? Why?

all my faves have their own crowd of haters i'm afraid 😭 but let me say rhaegar. even among some dany/targ stans my man is so misunderstood lmao. it's not even his fault i dare say it's fanon about his half-imagined crimes that somehow got widespread to the unbelievable degree. and when i say they're half-imagined i'm being very generous actually. ofc he isn't perfect, no one in asoiaf is. and yes, he's a pre-series dead minor character but almost all little information about him is actually positive, not to mention the narrative itself that doesn't paint him as a villain or just a shitty dude. on the contrary, he's an idealized to some degree dead prince who could've been a good king (like some other historical targaryens, jacaerys, baelor breakspear, aemon son of jaehaerys, etc.), a mysterious yet tragic figure. i have much to say about why it's so popular to shit on him in fandom but yeah. his haters should send their complaints to grrm instead, no one forced the man to write him like that lol. and i mean that no one has to like him ofc. but it's misinterpretation of the text to claim he was intentionally written as a villain or smth by grrm.

12. Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn't? Why?

i don't know if it counts as unpopular but i would say tyrion's arc as a whole because i enjoy his character and like in my own way. i can get why some people don't like him but this man will always have his own place in my heart i must admit.

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

is this unpopular tho?.. ok but renly wouldn't make a terrible king. i dare say he would be better than both robert and stannis. yes, he wasn't shown as perfect and i don't claim this. he wouldn't be the best or the most brilliant or the most just or noble. yet still better than his brothers. his flaws weren't anything other high lords didn't have, his mistakes weren't anything other lords and kings didn't do. in many ways he would make a better job than robert or stannis, too bad he died so early, even though i get why it was important for the narrative.

26. Most shippable character?

well generally for me it's the ones i love the most lol. jonerys/snowstorm is my never dying otp but i admit my sins, sometimes i just see dany with other characters (often from other fandoms pls don't @ me). however, since dany is THE fave of mine it means i would rather twist the other guy or girl to fit into the good match for her than twist her for another character in my new born crack ship lol. and i never stay for too long with the ships with which i feel they don't really fit and don't do justice for each other lol. maybe that's the reason i'm not much of a rare shipper / crack shipper afshdjdb

27. Least shippable character?

everyone i don't like? 😭 as i've said sansa for the reasons above lol. you can insert many others in her place lmao

#thanks for the ask!#.txt #mypost #ask game #anonymous #*answered

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mxndanemagic · 3 years

Text

Prom

"She isn't going to let me go." A lamenting sigh comes from the young woman. Hugging her legs close and leaning against the window whos ledge she's seated on, Ella glances over to her older brother. "Scarlet says they'll know exactly what kind of girl I am. That I need stay home and repent for taking to Lucifer's temptations."

William doesn't hold back a frustrated groan, going over to the other and placing a hand atop her head. "That mother of ours isn't well. I know you've been having a rough time at school and Scarlet isn't much help either. But I doubt making a friend is worth the fuss she's causing." Sweeping a brief look across his sister's arms, William spots fading blotches of bluish purple. "Did she do that?"

Or was it the bullies?

"My throat was getting dry from reading verses. I stopped for a moment and she got upset. I don't think she's ever gotten this bad." Ella admits. "I think she misses you." Their mother had always been frenzied about keeping "sin" and the "devil" out of their lives. When her brother graduated and chose to attend a college far from home, she seemed to take it personally. Accusations of taking part in witchcraft, wanting to let the devil into her life, and seducing demons began to become part of her daily life when William left.

The blonde shakes his head in disbelief - moving away to rummage through his weekend bag. "Think I got some concealer in here. You told me you got asked to the dance by one of the popular guys, right? What's he like? He isn't trying to mess with you is he?" Williams questions follow one after another. He only wanted to keep his sister safe from any further harm.

"Do you like him?"

Ella looks up confused but lets out a laugh. "No. I just know him because Moira does. If she's friends with him then he must be doing this to be nice. I'm just relieved not everyone at that school sees me as a freaky witch."

"...Come on, you should get ready. I'll make sure mom doesn't find out where you went and I know Moira snuck you out to go dress shopping." he smiles.

The younger Nowell flusters at being discovered but she thanks her brother who heads off to see where their mother is.

She hadn't been nervous earlier but once the sight of the time and realizing she was ready to go, Ella could feel her heart racing. Was her dress fine? Her hair just right and makeup fine? Would the other students mock her for attending the dance with someone so well known?

Just make them shut up for good.

The thought startles her - causing the witch to go still. Maybe she was more anxious than she thought.

"I hope this isn't too much for you, Liam." her words stumble out during the walk to the school. Ella had insisted the other didn't make a grand show when it came to taking her to prom. Now they were strolling together through the neighborhood. Liam however had been rather silent throughout the trip. "Is everything okay?" Maybe he was having second thoughts.

Liam responds as if he was caught off guard, a hand going to the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah. I just...you look nice." he mutters, keeping his eyes to the ground. "The dress too!" a rushed addition to his compliment is given.

Ella's face softens, a gentle smile taking place. "You look nice too." It seemed like the right thing to say after his kind words. Maybe her mother was all wrong about things. Not everyone she would meet was going to be cruel...

"There you two are!" Heather is first to greet them - her hands clasping Ella's close. "I told Jen you weren't gonna let her little subordinates get to you. Thought for a second Liam got lost on his way to your house." she looks over to the other, giving him a stern look. "He didn't do anything did he?"

"I was the perfect gentleman!" Liam counters, earning laughter from the two girls. "I'm getting some punch." he grumbles, breaking off from them and into the bustling crowd of prom attendees.

Heather leads Ella to an empty table away from the dancefloor, near the stage decorated for the main event of the night.

The reveal of this years Senior Prom Royalty.

"I made sure nobody would give you trouble tonight. I haven't even seen Jen or her boyfriend either after talking to her. Maybe she got bored and left." Heather sounds hopeful. It would take away some concern for the evening if that were true. "Didn't think your mom was gonna let you out, Ella. I was ready to drag Liam to your place so we could sneak you out." she grins.

Ella returns a small smile, fidgeting with the corsage on her wrist. "Will surprised us with an early visit. He wanted to make sure I could go with you guys." Being able to attend felt like the first step in concluding her unpleasant senior year on a good note.

"Testing, testing!" The sound of a stage mic being adjusted by an MC has the lively chatter in the gymnasium quiet down. "Nice to have you all here tonight! Dancing, mingling, and of course waiting for the results of our most coveted titles this years prom!"

The crowd answers with rallied cheers and impatient encouragement. Eyes watch with anticipation as a single envelope is brought over to the MC. "Let's see here~ Your King and Queen for tonight's Senior Prom are-"

"LIAM MASTERS AND ELLA NOWELL!"

The announcement surprises the woman, looking up and around as a spotlight brings attention to her and Liam - who makes his way to the stage while signaling her to follow after.

"Go on up, Nowell!" Heather gives her a light nudge.

She was voted Prom Queen?

Her footsteps towards the stage feel light, her heart beating just like before when she was getting ready.

Ella wished her mother could see - see that her fear mongering was for nothing. Everyone was smiling and clapping! They were cheering for her...

A bouquet of black dahlias is handed over to her while she and Liam stand center stage, all eyes on them as a crown is put on her head.

"Give it up for our Prom King and Queen, folks!"

Ella holds her flowers close, giving Liam and the crowd a bright smile. The crowd is so loud with their excitement that she barely hears the sound of rope snapping...

A puddle of thick wetness drapes over her, splashing to the ground and staining anything it lands on. Her cheery expression falters into one of shock - gaze staring out into the audience that reacts with a gasp. The bouquet in her grasp tumbles to the ground, stained in red paint.

At least that's what Ella thought it was until she begins to try wiping it off her arms and dress.

It was blood.

She can feel it dripping into her hair, staining her skin, and the smell of rust sticking to her.

They're all staring - some crying out for her date who's stumbled to the floor of the stage after a knock to the skull from the now empty bucket that had been leveraged above them.

Others are falling into gossip and among them she spots the one likely behind it all.

"LOOK AT THE FREAK COVERED IN BLOOD!" Jen calls out, urging other students to point, laugh, and echo insults her way.

Chaperones attempt to calm down the crowd but they're only ignored as frenzy takes over.

Ella had been wrong.

The laughter is all she can hear as she stands there like their personal fool to mock.

That's when the witch understands. . .

They were never going to change. . .

The gymnasium doors slam shut.

Windows close with a thud.

Stage lights shatter. . .and the audience panics.

Her hand raises, levitating tables nearby to send them flying into the crowd. Others are slammed into the ceiling before being dropped with ease. Many scramble for the entrance and exits - futile attempts to get out. Scream and cries fill the room as stage curtains are set ablaze.

"Stop this! Let us out!"

A snap of bones is heard and the pleading voice has gone quiet.

The fire begins to branch out to the rest of the room and Ella is calm as she descends down the stairs of the stage, strolling through the gymnasium to taken in her work.

She drowns out the sobbing and yelling of what’s left of the faculty and students. They don’t attempt to get in her way.

Taking in only the sound of flames moving rapidly, stages pieces crashing to the ground and her own soft humming while taking gentle care to remove the corsage that had been given to her.

No longer would she be their plaything.

The main entrance doors open with ease as she approaches, shutting them swiftly behind her once she's out of the building.

Outside the night breeze is cool and the gymnasium is enveloped by the fire and terror that’s sealed inside.

All of it on display just for her to savor as she watches from afar with satisfaction and the sounds of sirens are heard in the distance.

Prom hadn't been so terrible after all.

#drabble #tw blood #tw abuse #tw murder #v; carrie au #muse;ella #muse;william

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

Hi! Would it be possible to ask if you could write about Arthur? I was thinking about Arthur falling for a new member of the group who’s pretty dangerous and has a tough exterior, but eventually Arthur is able to get through and bring out the childish and playful side of her, falling for her tough side and her soft side? I hope that makes sense, thank you!!

Okay, I must admit, this one was hard for me to write because I just had a conversation with my therapist yesterday about some of the problems brought up in this piece. So heads up, this piece is pretty much my own way of processing this, is 100% self indulgent, and about 10,000% pure fluff!

(I chose these pics because he is just too darn cute.)

Word count: ~6.000

Warnings: extreme amounts of fluff, mentions of blood, childhood abuse, mentions of grief (I don’t know if any of these might actually be triggers, but in case they are...)

You lower your gun, spitting on the man’s body, whom you just shot. His blood seeps into the grass.

“Horrible man,” you hiss, glaring at his corpse and holstering your gun. You walk back to the wagon where Arthur and John are going through the boxes. John had gotten a tip about this wagon, owned by a popular goods manufacturer. These wagons are always a hit or miss as they sometimes carry expensive items, such as jewelry, paintings, cash and other times nothing but documents, clothes and worthless household items. It’s always easy to determine how valuable the items are judged by the toughness of the driver and his companion.

For this wagon, the armed companion had been dealt with by John and Arthur, who’d given them quite a mouthful of insults. The driver was a different matter. He’d pretended to be harmless and quickly left the wagon, but when he saw you with the robbers, he went off, stating that no self-respecting criminals would let a girl do any of the hard work. John and Arthur just traded smug smiles and let you handle him. They knew exactly how easily you got fired up. The driver turned out to be too easy of a kill.

You put your hands on the edge of the wagon. “Anything good?” you say. Arthur, who’s closest to you, sighs and straightens up.

“Think this company’s gettin’ wise to low lifes like us. There’s hardly worth anything here.”

“Seriously?” you say, looking at the open chests. “But that companion was a hard ass.”

“Like I said, think the company’s catching on. Way to go, Marston.”

“How was I to know there wouldn’t be nothing here?” John snaps. “My guess was as good as yours on the value of the wagon.”

As Arthur opens his mouth to retort, you interrupt. “How about we get the hell out of here before the law turns up? I doubt them gunshots went unheard.”

The boys agree and they take the few items that are worth stealing, mostly cans of food and bottles of liquor. You unhitch the horses tied to the wagons and let them loose, which John scoffs at and Arthur raises a questioning brow.

When the three of you return to Clemens Point, Arthur walks over to you as you’re grooming your horse.

“Can I ask why you do that?” he says.

“Do what?”

“Well, I notice that every job with a wagon or a stage, you let the horses go. It ain’t like it’s hurtin’ ‘em bein’ tied up.”

You pause. You glue your eyes to your horse’s neck when you finally speak. “If I was a horse and tied up like that and my driver died, I wouldn’t wanna be stuck like that until someone found me. I imagine they’d like being able to move around, graze, find some water.”

This strikes Arthur. He’s seen firsthand how vicious and unforgiving you can be. Hell, there are times you’ve whipped out your gun and shot it before he could even pull his own out of its holster. Sure, he knows you love your horse more than just about anything. He never thought you could care about some horses whom you’ve no connection with.

“Well, I guess when you put it that way,” he says softly. “Maybe I’ll start doin’ it too.”

You put your brush away. “I honestly don’t know if it helps or not, Arthur. I just imagine they appreciate it, in their own ways.”

You walk away from him, heading for Pearson’s fire where he’s set out dinner. Your brusque response to Arthur was nothing new. He’s used to your short answers and even your cold manners. However, watching you unleash those horses has got him thinking: is there a soft side to you?

He’d never have thought that before. He’s seen you shoot men who begged on their knees for you to spare them, seen you rip the flesh from small animals after you’ve shot them without blinking an eye. Hell, you can run with the best in the gang. He remembers that bar fight in Valentine. Before he’d gotten tackled by that big fella Tommy he’d seen you pummeling some guy nearly twice your size, his nose bleeding and his eye purpling under your fist. He’d also seen you take your fair share of hits and knows you can hold yourself up after them too. He recalls a couple years ago, not very long after you joined, how one fella you were fighting with shot you in the leg. Despite the obvious pain, you’d gotten up, walked yourself to your horse and rode back to camp without a single complaint.

He watches you dish up your plate, his mind reeling with the possible complexities of your character. You don’t notice and you wander off to go and eat at the round table. He comes and joins you at the table with his own plate, but doesn’t mind when you don’t start a conversation. Unlike the other women, you’re happy to sit in silence. In fact, you’re much like Charles in that if you don’t want to talk, you’re not going to. Arthur admires you secretly. You’re strong and unmovable, nothing seems to scare you. How many guns have you looked down and you didn’t bat an eye?

When Arthur sees you’re done eating, he stands up and reaches for your tin to take it. His hand accidentally brushes your arm and you quickly snap it away, your hard eyes glaring at his hand.

“Sorry,” he says. When you see he’s just taking your plate, you relax and thank him quietly. He has another thing about you to think on. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen you touching anyone, not even in a friendly or reassuring manner. Nor has he seen anyone successfully touch you. One time Sean, after making a joke about how frightening you were, he patted you on the shoulder and you immediately pulled away from him.

When you’d come back to camp with that bullet in your leg, you didn’t make any sound of complaint until Susan and Tilly tried to get the bullet out. Arthur recalls how upset you’d gotten when they tried to touch your leg, and how almost feral you’d become when Karen tried to hold you down so the others could get the bullet out. Arthur knew it had nothing to do with the pain and more to do with that they were touching you. Sure, Arthur’s not used to being touched either, but he’s never known anyone to get upset about being touched.

Arthur settles down in his cot for the night, his mind still turning with thoughts of you. Despite the years you’ve been running with the gang, he finds that he still hardly knows a thing about you. You’d run away from your family, fell in with a smaller gang that then got torn apart by the law, some were arrested, some were killed and you were one of the few to escape. That was when you fell in with this bunch. But Arthur realizes that other than that and that you’re capable with a gun and an expert horse rider, he doesn’t know a thing about you.

*********************************

In the morning, Arthur has a plan on maybe learning about you. He’s always been a curious man and your secretive nature only makes him moreso. He looks around camp but doesn’t find you. Your horse is still tied up, and then he spots you on the pier, a fishing pole in hand. Perfect.

He comes over, making sure you can hear his boots thumping on the old wood. He’s witnessed how dangerous it is for someone to sneak up on you. He takes out his own pole, feigning that he doesn’t have an ulterior motive for being here.

“Any luck?” he asks.

“A bit,” you respond, glancing at him. He could swear you smile a bit.

After a short bout of silence, he rubs his neck nervously, his pole staying still in his other hand. “Hosea mentioned a possible lead in Emerald Ranch. Thought you and I should go take a look.”

“What’s the job?”

Crap, he didn’t think you’d ask this question. Most jobs you didn’t ask the nature on, you just went. “Said somethin’ about a train comin’ through, carryin’ some rich folk. I figure we could board at Emerald Station, and as it’s on its way south, we can… take care of the rest.”

You continue staring out at the lake. “Sounds good. When’s it due?”

“Couple of days. But maybe you and I could head out early. Pearson was sayin’ he’s gettin’ low on meat.” Another lie, but he hopes you won’t catch on. Besides, Pearson says there’s no such thing as too much meat. Not with how many mouths the gang has to feed right now. When you don’t respond, he goes on. “Heartlands are a great place to go huntin’. Lots of game. Plus, the view is beautiful.”

“Sure,” you say, collapsing your pole. “We can go hunting. I could use some time away from this place.”

He hides his smile and then follows you to the horses. You both mount up and head out. It doesn’t take long to reach Emerald Ranch. You both stop there to “scout” the station, though you’re still unaware that he’s lying. He must admit, he’s a little afraid of how you’ll react when you find out there most likely won’t be a train stuffed with rich folk. He knows you won’t kill him, but you’re already so closed off, it might just make you even moreso.

You walk down the steps of the station, walking towards him as he stands near the horses. “Just talked to the clerk,” you say. “Says a train’s coming that’s heading south in about three days. We’ll have plenty of time to hu- oh, hey kitty.”

You’re stopped in your tracks by a cat that’s winding its way around your legs. The scrawny tabby looks up at you and gives a cute “brrr”. Arthur watches as a rare smile stretches your face. You bend down and pet the cat, who just rubs over your legs even more in response. You pick it up and it starts rubbing its chin across your cheek.

“Oh, you’re a sweet one, huh?” you say. Arthur’s never heard you sound so sweet. “Yeah, you’re pretty. Handsome boy like you, you’re a heartbreaker, huh?”

After a moment, you put the cat down and it walks off, tail pointed straight up. You smile as you watch it walk away. When you look back at Arthur, you see him staring.

“Sorry. Just… haven’t been able to cuddle a cat in a long time.” You mount up and walk your horse over to the plains of the Heartlands. Arthur watches you go, even more confused. Why is it that when he’s seen a person touch you, you’ve flinched and acted like there was physical pain to it, but when that cat touched you, you willingly accepted and even encouraged it?

He follows you, his mind reeling even more.

******************************

That night, you and Arthur make a campfire for the night, several pelts drying under the stars. You reach into your satchel and pull out a thick batch of raspberries to add to dinner as Arthur cooks some meat. He can tell you’re relaxed and content. Now is the best time for him to try and learn more about you.

“Can I ask ya somethin’?” he says.

“I suppose,” you say shortly, leaning against a rock.

“How come you ran away from your family? Most of us who had a proper family left that life because they died.”

Your hands shuffle a bit in your lap and you stare off into the fire. It takes you a few moments before you answer. “It was just… easier running away than… than staying, I guess.” He waits for you to continue but you don’t. He wishes you’d give more detail. The tone of your voice says you chose your words carefully.

“You know you can trust me, right?” he says softly.

You look up at him for a brief second and then look back to the fire. It’s true, you trust Arthur more than the others. Something about his presence has always had more of an impression on you than the others. You don’t respond, but your hands continue to fidget. He knows you’re not going to come out and say things, if he wants to find out more about you, he’s going to have to ask.

“Why was it easier to run? Did your pa get busted for runnin’ an illegal business or somethin’?”

You shake your head. “No. No, he ran a legitimate business. He was the sheriff’s deputy, actually. Well respected in our town.”

“And?” Arthur says after you fall silent again. “And what?”

“What was he like?” Arthur asks.

“Why do you care?” you suddenly snap. You’ve never been comfortable with people wanting to know about your life. It’s an alien thing to you, for people to want to know. When you were a kid, people really didn’t like you much. They found you annoying and you tried too much to be like them in order to make friends. In school, the other kids were more than happy to shut you out.

Your home life wasn’t much better. You were the youngest of four children to your family. Your brother was significantly older and he was a bully to you and your two sisters. Since you were the youngest though, he left you alone a decent amount of time. Your sisters were a different matter. They teased you a lot, and they used to chase you around the ranch with sharp objects because they knew it scared you. It also wasn’t unusual for them to hit you out of the blue.

Then there were your parents. Your mother was nice, but she criticized you a lot. She didn’t like that you weren’t as social as other kids your age. When you told her it was because the other kids didn’t like you, her response was that you didn’t try enough. She made comments about how she thought you could make yourself look prettier, how you should wear dresses more often. She also held it over your head that you would be married one day, despite you having no interest in anyone in that way. When you admitted you never experienced romantic attraction towards anyone, she simply brushed it off and said “you just haven’t found the right one yet”.

Your father was the worst of the lot. He never took any interest in you (or any of his kids for that matter). He seemed to hate you the most though. When he’d come home from work angry, he seemed to take it out on you, screaming at you, blaming any irritance he had on you. Perhaps it was because you were the youngest, but a feeling in your gut said that he hated you because he’d wanted another son when your mother was pregnant with you. There were times too he’d become physically violent with you. It didn’t help that whenever you became emotional, he’d get irrationally angry and tell you to go hide in your room, that no one wanted to see your tears.

All those things combined into one shaped you to distrust people. You hated being touched because when you were a kid, the majority of the times you were touched caused physical pain. You also couldn’t relate your emotions to people and you had become detached from them over the years, to the point you found it extremely difficult to cry.

You think back on these things as Arthur stares at you. He’d been taken back when you’d practically shouted at him.

“I… I guess I’m just curious is all,” Arthur responds.

“Well, don’t be,” you hiss, turning back to the fire. Arthur’s curiosity of you is making you extremely uncomfortable. Why should he be? No one else ever was. You sigh, trying to simmer down. “Sorry, Arthur. It’s just… it’s better for everyone if you don’t worry about me.”

Arthur stares at you for a moment. He can tell that whatever is making you so closed off is causing you a lot of pain. He feels an urge to get close to you, to try and comfort you, but he knows that might just makes things worse.

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess that’s just my problem. I worry about most people in camp, except Micah maybe.” He sees you chuckle a bit at this, which is an encouraging sign. “Point is, I am worried about ya, Y/N. I ain’t known anyone like you, and to be honest, I ain’t too sure it’s healthy.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide. You want nothing more than to tell Arthur about everything, but there’s something preventing you from doing so. All you can think is that he’d find you weak and pathetic if he knew. It’s just better and easier to keep it all bottled up.

You sigh heavily. You have a feeling he won’t stop asking about why you ditched your family until you gave him a reason. “I… I ran away because my family proved they weren’t worthy of being my family. I… I remember reading a book and a character said ‘family don’t end in blood’. I don’t know why, that just stuck with me. When I realized what it meant, I knew that my parents, my siblings… they weren’t my family. I’ve never had the luxury of having one.”

You look down at your boots, your chest tightening. You know you’re close to getting choked up and crying, but you can’t do that. You can’t let Arthur see how weak you are.

He finally looks away. “I’m real sorry about that, Y/N. Families are always complicated. And I’m sorry if you felt like I was pressurin’ ya. It’s just… how many years you been with us? I feel like I don’t know the first thing about ya.”

You look up at him again. “Why would you want to, Arthur?”

This question strikes him and he knows exactly why you’re so private. He feels a pang for you as he realizes that no one has ever shown any interest in you, that you’ve always been alone. He knows exactly what he has to do for you to open up.

“Maybe because you’re worth knowin’,” he says. He sees your breath quicken. Are you scared? He goes on, wanting to make you feel comfortable. “Maybe because no one deserves to be alone their entire lives. I don’t know what happened to make you feel that way, and I ain’t askin’ you to tell me. But I just want ya to know that no matter what you think or feel, I’m here. I’ll listen. I ain’t gonna think less of ya.”

He can tell you’re listening hard to everything he says, that he’s got your mind turning.

You swallow, wanting to test his words. “I used to have a cat, you know. When I was a kid. He was a good boy. The best in fact. He… he chose me. We weren’t supposed to keep him, but when my ma saw how much he and I loved each other, she convinced my pa to keep him.” You smile as you recall the things he did, how he made you feel loved and how he made you laugh. You start to get choked up again when you get closer to telling Arthur the end. You don’t notice that he’s carefully scooting closer to you as you talk.

“What happened to your cat?” Arthur asks softly.

“He got old,” you say. “He was thirteen and one day, he jumped up into a tree and hurt his leg. After that, he just went downhill. He started limping a lot, and then he… he had a seizure out of the blue. He only lasted four days after that, and he was half paralyzed when he finally….” You find yourself unable to finish the story. Even after all these years, thinking about him still hurts as badly as it did the day he died. “All I can think is that at least I was there with him when he…”

Arthur’s sitting only a foot from you now. He’s so close he must be able to see the tears in your eyes. You wish he wasn’t. It’s rare for you to have a moment of weakness like this, and it’s been an extremely long time since you had an audience. Pathetic doesn’t even come close to how you feel right now with him being a witness. He must think you’re laughable, weak, pitiful. You hate yourself for it.

He surprises you when he speaks in an incredibly soft voice. “At least you gave him a good life, and you gave him the comfort of not dyin’ alone.”

You sniff, a tear finally cascading down your cheek. You turn your head so he can’t see. He feels sorry for you; he’s never seen you this upset and he can tell you’re fighting extremely hard to keep yourself contained. He forgets for a moment about your touch aversion and he puts an arm behind you, trying to comfort you.

Your response is instant. You immediately flinch and jump out of reach, your eyes wide and hard. He raises his hands up. “Easy, easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You blink several times and then sit back down. “Sorry,” you say. “I just… I don’t like being touched.”

“I know,” he says. “Can I ask why?”

You swallow heavily. “I just don’t.”

He sighs, knowing he won’t get any further. He’s okay with that though, you’ve already come a long way tonight. He starts humming a song Uncle often sings and it relaxes you. After a bit, the two of you crawl into your bedrolls for the night, but Arthur stays awake a long time. He thinks about the things you said. He can tell by your behavior you’re crying for help, but you just don’t know how to ask. He wonders how he can help you out, especially with your touch aversion.

**************************

The next morning, you get up before he does. You had dreams of your cat and you feel ashamed for how you reacted the night before. Thoughts of how miserable you must have seemed to Arthur circle in your head and you can’t handle the guilt. You quickly grab your bow and head off to hunt, determined to take out your emotions in the thrill of stalking a deer or a rabbit.

An hour passes before you return to camp, carrying a buck’s pelt, your satchel laden with rabbit furs and even a badger. You can see Arthur’s up and you sigh, trying to pull yourself together. His behavior from last night confuses you. The questions he was asking, the looks he gave you, how he tried to touch you. You have to wonder why. You can’t come up with an answer, so you resolve yourself to hiding it all again.

As you throw the pelt over your horse’s back and start stuffing the smaller skins into the saddlebag, Arthur puts out the fire.

“I wanted to ask ya somethin’,” he says quietly.

You pause, scared he might ask something similar to the things he said last night. “Okay,” you say in a weak voice.

“What do you feel when someone touches you?” he asks. “And I don’t mean physically. What do you feel?”

You look up at him, your eyes wide again. You don’t know what it is about Arthur, but you find yourself wanting to be honest with him. “I… I don’t know.”

He clasps his hands in front of him and takes a few steps closer to you. “Do you feel afraid? Confused? Repulsed? Angry?”

“No, just… confused and… worried, I guess.” You plant your back to your horse, crossing your arms over yourself. Arthur notices your defensive position.

“Can you think of why you feel those things?” he asks. His voice is so soft you almost don’t hear it.

You shake your head, truly not sure why you feel those things. “I don’t know.”

“Do you… well, do you hate it?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you hate that you feel confused and worried?”

You swallow again and lick your lips. “Yes,” you finally say. “I… I read somewhere that we’re wired to enjoy touch, but I just… I can’t.”

He stands still for a moment. “Can I try somethin’?” he asks. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, and if it’s too much, we don’t have to go further.”

“What is it?” you ask. Your heart’s racing in your chest and you feel the impulse to run. Arthur’s too close, he’s been staring at you too long.

“Let me see your hand,” he says. He’s determined to voice every step he plans on taking, that way you don’t have to be afraid. When you don’t move, he thinks maybe you’ll deny him. Finally though, you unclench your hand from your shirt and hold it out for him. He can see you’re shaking.

“I promise, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, and I ain’t gonna think you’re pathetic. Y/N, I just wanna help ya.” He slowly raises his hands and clasps them around yours. His hands are so warm, almost hot, and they’re rough from calluses. He can tell you’re resisting the desire to whip yours out of reach. He keeps his hands still around yours for a moment, and then one finger brushes the top of your finger, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Arthur keeps his eyes on your hands, allowing you to process this.

After a few moments of him just gently tracing your hand, he speaks up. “Tell me what you feel. Not physically, what do you feel?”

He can see you’ve settled down, your eyes are softer, your breathing lighter, but you’ve barely blinked since he started this.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I feel.... I don’t know.” And it’s true. You don’t know what you feel. You’ve no idea that right now, your brain is releasing oxytocins, making you feel good, but they’re clashing with your adrenaline. It makes for a very odd combination.

“Does it feel good?” he asks.

You give him a tense nod and he smiles. “Yeah, I know it does. Touch doesn’t have to mean pain. It’s okay to be touched, and it’s okay to want touch.”

He lets go of your hand and takes a step back. He decides the best thing to do is to leave you alone so you can process it all; he could tell from the look on your face you need time to think about all this.

When his back’s to you, you flex your hand. It feels much colder without his around it anymore and your skin tingles from where he rubbed your skin. You feel confused again, but for different reasons than before. You used to feel confused because you couldn’t understand why someone would want to touch you, but now you’re confused because it did feel good. It felt comforting, reassuring. Even more confusing is that you want him to do it again.

Arthur looks back and sees you haven’t moved an inch. You’re still looking at your hand like you’ve never seen it before. He chuckles softly and mounts his horse. Despite that it’s obvious he’s caused you to have a miniature identity crisis, he finds your signs encouraging. He’ll give you a break, and then maybe later, he’ll try going further.

It’s only when he’s gone off hunting that you come back to yourself. However, the memory of him just touching your hand causes distraction. You’re not as focused as usual, you miss a lot more often when you manage to find an animal to stalk. At one point, you sit down and try rubbing your own hand, trying to recreate what he did, but it doesn’t work of course. You end up sitting a long time, feeling perplexed about the whole thing.

Arthur meanwhile finds it sad. He wonders if you’ve ever really felt someone touch you in a positive way. He’s no doubt that your family hurt you and not just physically. The fact that you struggled and even fought with yourself last night to control your emotions screams that somewhere in your life, you were taught to completely bury yourself as a form of protection. Arthur is a private man, he knows how hard it is to open up sometimes. But there are still people he knows he can talk to about his own feelings. John, Hosea, Mary-Beth, he knows he can talk to them. But you don’t seem to be able to do it with anyone. He sighs, knowing there’s a very long road ahead with you, but he’s willing to go down it. You deserve to be helped.

*********************************

That night, when camp is set up again, Arthur sits close to you. He finds it encouraging when you let him. He notices you keep positioning your hand in such a way that if he wanted to take it, he could. Not only that, you keep rubbing it. He definitely gave you a lot to think about.

“So how you feelin’?” he asks after you’ve both eaten.

You look over at him. Your eyes say you’re still a little lost. “I’m alright.”

He smiles and pats your shoulder, only this time, you don’t flinch. “Good. Maybe you can make some progress.”

He gets up and walks over to his horse, reaching into the saddlebag and pulling out a bottle of rum. He turns around and almost runs into you.

“What are ya doin’?” he asks. It’s obvious you followed him.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. You want to ask him to touch you again, but maybe go further. However, there’s some kind of block that prevents you from doing so. He smiles.

“You want me to help you again like I did this morning?” he asks.

Your eyes widen even more. He can see how tiny your pupils are, despite the darkness. You’re nervous again, but he sees your head tip in the tiniest nod. He sets down the bottle slowly.

“Okay, but I’m gonna go a bit further this time. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“I know,” you say.

Spurred on by this, he holds his arms out a little and he takes small, slow steps closer to you. Slowly, he wraps them around you, enveloping you in a hug. You tense up until you hear his voice.

“It’s okay. Not gonna hurt ya, not gonna think badly of ya. Don’t think about what I think. Think about how this feels, okay?”

He can see how tense your jaw is, you’re clenching your shoulders and your breathing in short, quick bursts. He holds you gently, but he notices you’re not reacting. He lets you go, thinking maybe he moved to this point too quickly.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says. “Probably frightened ya.”

“What…” you start in such a quiet voice he almost doesn’t hear. “What do I do? When you do that.”

It’s his turn to be confused and then it hits him. You don’t know how to reciprocate touch.

“It’s easy,” he says. He slowly grabs your hands and stretches your arms in front of you, folding them around his waist. “Just do this, then I put my hands here.” He places his hands on your back. “You can lay your head on me if you want,” he says when he notices how stiffly you’re holding your neck, staring up past his shoulder.

“You’re not… you’re not gonna be upset?” you ask quietly.

He knows if he voices how shocked he is by this question you’re going to retreat, so he holds it in. “No, Y/N. I ain’t. You just do whatever feels good, okay?”

You stand stiff in his arms for a few seconds, your hands clenched to the back of his shirt. Then finally, you lower your head and press your cheek to his chest. You can hear his heart beating, slow and steady, opposite of yours. His hand rubs slowly up your back, flooding you with a soothing sensation. You feel yourself suddenly relaxing in his arms, your stomach and chest loosen up, you slowly let your shoulders down and you press your face into his chest. As you relax, you’re able to wrap your arms further around him. His body’s firm and he’s warm, God he is warm. He shifts a bit and then you feel his cheek press down on your head.

A swarm of emotions suddenly slams into your chest. You’ve never felt like this before, so comfortable and protected. You can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. You suddenly realize how lonely you’ve been all these years, and how much you’ve secretly craved something like this. Your chest tightens again and before you can stop yourself, you’re suddenly crying into Arthur’s shirt. You wait for him to pull away, to be disgusted by you, but he doesn’t. His arms tighten further around you, one hand comes up and cradles your head to his chest.

Perhaps you imagine it while what feels like every pent up emotion escapes from your body, but you swear you feel Arthur’s lips on your forehead as you sob. Maybe you just wish you felt him do that, it’s not entirely clear if it really happened.

When you’ve finally lost the ability to cry anymore (your body just can’t seem to produce another tear), you pull away slightly to see the mess you’ve made on Arthur’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you say, wiping your eyes dry.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says gently, his arms still around you. He suddenly smiles. “I never knew someone so tough could be so-”

“Pathetic?” you say.

He tilts his head to the side a bit. “Passionate. You got a lot of feelin’s swirling around in ya, I bet ya didn’t even know about some of ‘em.”

You blush and look down at his shirt again.

“Point is,” he continues, “it’s okay to feel them, to let yourself feel. It ain’t healthy and it ain’t weak to let yourself be vulnerable once in a while. You’ll find that you’re able to stand stronger when ya do.”

Your hands clench his shirt a bit. This isn’t right. Arthur shouldn’t be comforting you, the two of you should be settling down to sleep right now.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you say, your voice squeaking.

He lets out a long sigh. “Because you deserve it, Y/N. Because it ain’t fair to you for everyone to expect you to always be strong and stoic. You deserve to be allowed to be vulnerable. I don’t know who taught you that showing it when you’re upset is a bad thing, but it ain’t.”

One of his hands comes up and brushes your cheek, wiping it dry. You feel yourself trusting him and get a sudden desire to spill all your secrets to this man. You can’t look away from his lips either. How strange it is that Arthur Morgan, the toughest man you’ve ever met, with a temper so easily flared, is teaching you the importance of being weak every once in a while?

You press your face back into his chest, your forehead settling against his neck. His arms tighten around you again, his right hand settled between your shoulder blades. You relax even more, to the point you acknowledge his scent. Leather, tobacco leaves, gunpowder and sage. God, he smells good.

You don’t know how long you stay in his arms, but you’re so comfortable and feel so safe you feel your eyes drooping. He must be able to tell too, because he pats your shoulder.

“Let’s get some sleep, hmm? I know you’re exhausted.”

You nod. You surprise even yourself when you move your bedroll next to his, but then feel worried that you might be encroaching on his personal space too much. You look up at him and he smiles.

“You can sleep next to me if ya want. I don’t mind.”

For the first time, you smile back at him. When he’s settled in his roll, lying on his back, you curl up against him, your head settling on his chest. Arthur brushes your hair, his fingers trailing down your back. His other hand settles over yours, which rests on his stomach.

After a while, you look up at him. “Arthur?”

“Hmm?” His eyes find yours.

“Thank you. I know I… I still have a long road to recovery, but thank you. I wouldn’t have known how much help I needed unless you showed me.”

He smiles and then his lips press against your forehead. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

You settle down back onto him, his heat seeping up into you. When you were young, you imagined doing this with a man you love, but never once did you think it could feel this good. Then it hits you. You love Arthur. There’s no denying it. You wouldn’t have let him even hold your hand if you didn’t. The thought both scares and intrigues you, but you have a prodding in your gut that says he must feel something too. As you lie in his arms, you wonder where he might take you tomorrow.

#rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks #self-therapy piece

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alleycat97 · 4 years

Text

The New Queen

Bea set and stared at the same paper for the last 20 minutes. Confused and concerned, did she even need to be here since Chloe began number one? That was the reason to become TA right? To get the professors on her side?

What was the point now, Poppy was defeated but yet here she is, phone going crazy in her pocket, Poppy trying to recruit her to help, and Ina staring a hole through her wondering why she wasn’t working.

“Those papers won’t grade themselves you know.” Ina called out while Bea was reading over the text.

“Get dirt on Chloe, and we will take her out. That snake bitch will learn her place. Do that, and you will take her place in my circle.”

“How am I gonna get dirt on Chloe? The girl hates me, I think.” Bea asked herself.

“Bea!” Ina started yelling snapping Bea to attention.

“Huh? Oh right, the papers.” Bea said sharply trying to refocus.

“What’s wrong?” Ina finally sighed, pulling her glasses off and rising to fix two drinks.

“Everything just turned upside down.” Bea started accepting the offered drink.

“Meaning?” Ina said sitting down, really focusing.

“For some reason Poppy and I were partners for Professor Roberta’s class, and we actually didn’t kill each other. But...then we called a truce and Bam! Chloe is number one and Poppy is livid.”

“Well it seems you’ve caused a little shakeup.” Ina snickered.

“What do you mean?” Bea replied.

“With your arrival, you’ve made Poppy show her true side and everyone is tired of her because you’re the green grass on the other side. Poppy dipped and Chloe was next in line.” Ina pointed out.

“And now Poppy is livid. Chloe is dead to her and she wants to knock her off. They’re best friends!” Bea shouted.

“It’s funny what a number will do to a person.”

“And now, we’re in some weird truce and Poppy wants me to get dirt on Chloe in exchange for her spot. I mean I like it? Get rid of Chloe, get into the circle and rightfully displace Poppy. But how am I gonna get dirt on Chloe?” Bea said hanging her head trying to refocus on grading papers.

And there it was, an idea. Chloe St. James’ Anthropolgy paper, D-. “What would you do if you could personally help someone, seeing we hold all the power, do I lie and fail her? Or do I try and help her?” Bea asked genuinely.

“Ahhh I see you found Miss James paper. You know before you came here, she was a straight A student.” Ina pointed out. “And now, according to my colleagues, she’s close to flunking out for good.

“What happened?” Bea asked interested.

“I’m not sure. Ever since you became my TA, I noticed her grade slip.”

Bea knew why, but she couldn’t tell. Maybe this was her chance, personally tutor Chloe and in return, she will hopefully get info on the girl for Poppy.

...

“Are you nuts!” Zoe asked as the girls sat on the quad.

“It’s a great idea! Look her she comes now.” Before she could get her attention, Chloe was run over by Poppy and Veronica. The poor girl looked so lost and out of place.

“Get out of the way bitch. What’s wrong? You think just because you slept your way past me, you think you can do whatever you want? News flash, I’m still queen you snake bitch, and you’re going to get what’s coming to you.” Poppy and Veronica stepped over a shell shocked Chloe and all the whispers and laughter was being directed towards Chloe.

“Ouch.” Zoe mumbled.

“Chloe? Are you alright?” Bea said extended a hand to the girl.

“Why do you care! Leave me alone!” Chloe snapped trying to regain some dignity.

“Look I want to help you.” Bea tried.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Chloe said trying to pick her belongings up, trying to fight Bea for a paper. “Give it back!”

“This is what I’m talking about Chloe, D-? This isn’t good.”

“Yeah well, if I hated everyone and I was Kingsleys TA, I would flunk everyone too.”

“Chloe that’s not true. If it were, how do you explain this?” Bea pulled out an official Belvoire letter addressed to Chloe explaining her academic situation.

“Where did you get that!?” Chloe shrieked.

“I have my sources. Now how about it? Let me tutor you?”

“What’s the catch.” Chloe said squinting her eyes in concentration.

“No catch, is it too much to actually care for a fellow student?” Bea teased.

“You’re up to something...”

“Just meet me in the library after school. We will get started.

...

Chloe wouldn’t admit it, but studying with Bea wasn’t so bad. She actually enjoyed it. Bea was super smart and actually cared to ask her about her personal life and how her classes and days were going. It was nice, having someone actually care about you.

With the last month of drama and practical social suicide death threats from Poppy, being number one was weighing her down but she tried to bury it down to better herself, and be able to stay in school.

Bea could tell the strain it was having, Chloe was trying with her studies, but she seemed drained emotionally and physically.

“Ok Chlo, let’s turn in early today, you need to be sharp for your midterms tomorrow. It’s make or break.” Bea said gathering her stuff but Chloe just sat, with the ‘I have something I want to say but I’m not sure’ look on her face.

“What’s up?” Bea asked.

“Ummmm, do you think I can stay with you tonight?” Chloe said looking away from Bea.

“Ummmm yeah sure? Can I ask why though?”

“Well Poppy kind of kicked me out of the Zeta house. And Veronica had a separate suite that we shared and Poppy made her kick me out.”

“What the fuck!? When did this happen?” Bea asked fuming.

“Last week?” Chloe tried to remember, too tired to care exactly.

“That bitch! Where have you been staying?”

“Well for the first bit I was going to a hotel down the street but Daddy thought I was using it for...” Chloe cleared her throat, Bea picking up on what she was referring too. “So the last few nights, I was sleeping in my car. It’s not the best but it’s climate controlled.”

“Get your cute butt up, you’re coming home with me tonight.” Bea said angered, not at Chloe but at Poppy. She knew she was slacking so Poppy started her War on Chloe.

“Hey Zoe?” Bea called out, Zoe stepping out of her room greeting her bestie and stopping after seeing Chloe.

“What’s going on?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah, Chloe is going to be staying with us for a few night, she has some exams coming up and I need her close.” Ok she lied, but Zoe didn’t need to know the real reason.

“Ok cool, welcome to the crib Chloe. Make yourself at home.” Zoe shut her bedroom door and Chloe sat on the couch.

“Oh no, you’re staying with me, in my bed.” Bea said kind of aggressively but she couldn’t help it.

“At least buy me dinner first.” Chloe teased following Bea to her room.

“Here put these on.” Chloe was hit in the face with some of Bea’s pajamas, they smelled heavenly. “Well if you want, you can shower, then put them on.”

Chloe did just that and felt so cute in Bea’s pj’s, she wasn’t getting them back. She crawled into the king size bed and snuggled under the cover, Bea already tucked in playing on her phone.

“Whatcha doin?” Chloe asked.

Bea huffed, “Reading this garbage, look at this.”

Good evening Thoroughbreds!

Hot off the press! Thanks to a wonderful source, your new Queen, Chloe St. James is a failed exam away from flunking out of Belvoire. That’s right folks, your beloved is, (wait for it) stupid! (What a shock)

Miss James has been seen studying with Professor Thottie’s TA, that’s right, Belvoire’s new angel, Bea Hughes. How many will miss James sleep with to stay on top? According to her Academic record, (See Below) she better get to it or else her reign, like her academic career, will be over as quick as it started. Let’s hope her final brain cell doesn’t fail her now.

Kisses, The T

“That has Poppy written all over it!” Chloe hissed.

“I’m sorry she did that.” Bea tried.

“Why would she do this too me? I didn’t do anything! I just woke up and boom, I was number one.” Chloe cried.

“So you didn’t do anything?” Bea asked relieved.

“No! Poppy has been so obsessed with getting rid of you, she stubbed her toe and the almighty that is The T, made me number one. I don’t want to be number one! I just want my best friend back.” And here came the great flood.

“She actually wanted me to sabotage you or get something on you to make you regret being born. That sounds like a true friend to me.” Bea said sarcastically.

“She is. Or was. She was my first friend when I got here, she took me in and made me who I am.” Chloe said wiping her eyes. “She wanted you to find out how I became number one?”

“Yeah right before that day on the quad. That’s the day I decided I wasn’t going to do it. After seeing how cruel she is to her friend over a number, I want her to suffer. And if you being number one does it, so be it.”

“But I don’t want to be number one. I want to be Chloe, I want to stay in school and graduate, I want to be here...with you.” Chloe trailed off.

Bea’s heart fluttered, “You want to stay here with me huh?”

“I like you Bea.” Chloe admitted. “You’ve been here for me when I needed a friend. You helped me boost my confidence, I’m so ready to kick ass in midterms and show these haters I’m not stupid.”

“No matter what happens Chlo, you’ll always been my number one.” Bea spoke trying to get a rise out of Chloe.

“Yeah yeah, don’t get all soft on me now.” Chloe teased.

“Well we should get some rest, you have a big day tomorrow.” Chloe instinctfully cuddled up into Bea and Bea wrapped a loving arm over Chloe and the two slipped off into a de-stressing sleep. The next day would be the first day of the rest of Chloe’s life, that is, unless Poppy ends it prematurely.

#playchoices #chloe st james #chloe x mc #queen b chloe #queen b mc #pixelberry #queen b poppy #queen b veronica

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