#though….I could do every other week the snippets are part of a story that get combined together | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

usedpidemo · 1 year ago

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Acquainted (Red Velvet Yeri)

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You’re just about ready to head off to sleep when you check the group chat. This is your nightly tradition. These strangers, now your closest friends despite the anonymity, are active and in good spirits, as usual. Outside of your weekday 9-to-5, these few moments are the most interesting parts of your day, and you just so happen to join during a particularly lively conversation:

> [22:48:01] yerimiese: (posts a link to a red velvet album article)

> [22:48:14] flutter mane: :sanapog:

> [22:48:23] silksong sulker: k-pop is saved

> [22:48:33] wonyoung cockjuicer: ew red velvet

> [22:48:37] wonyoung cockjuicer: wonyoung can peg me tbh

> [22:48:39] irene’s tokki: Bae J:floshedjiggle::floshedjiggle:hyun

> [22:49:06] milf hunter: :floshed:

> [22:49:11] milf hunter: gape sugalo

So of course, you chime in as well.

> [22:50:12] You: lets get it, new rv fancams

You’re in no mood to chat for longer than five minutes, but before you head offline, you receive a private message from your closest friend:

> yerimiese: so when are you in korea again?

> You: Next week, why?

> yerimiese: nice. why don’t we meet up, that would be dope as fuck

> You: You’re in Korea?

> yerimiese: yeaaaah? why wouldn’t i be?

> You: I thought you’d be doing other schedules abroad

> yerimiese: nah sm definitely won’t fly us out to film an mv. cheap ass bastards ㅋㅋㅋ

Yerimiese then sends you a video link. It’s a Yeri fancam, her weapon of choice. Your conversations began with small, intimate talks about your personal life, soon transpiring into open fapping, degrading, and casual lewdness with each other. Despite the usually depraved nature of your messages, you both continued sharing snippets of your day to day lives. That’s how close you’ve grown as friends.

> You: Well i’m very tired, today was a long day at work, had to work overtime. No time to lewd, sorry

> yerimiese: it's alright. you did well today

Yerimiese sends you a pic this time. It’s an event; the internet can’t load any quicker. You’re hungry, impatient, dying. Whether it’s intentional or not, the photos she sends whenever you’re tired or stressed out are hotter than her usual swimsuit or photoshoot reel. You’ve shared enough about your daily routine to her that a camera crew might as well be recording you.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary; a simple candid pic of herself lying in bed, her face perfectly cropped out of the background, showing nothing but her body on full display in front of the huge mirror, dressed in skimpy black panties and a white shirt that accentuates her shapely breasts. As usual, she’s not wearing a bra; you can clearly see her hard nipples demanding all of your attention.

> yerimiese: no need to send a dick pic tonight if you don’t feel like doing it

You can’t help it. Tired as you are, you feel obligated to send her one. Luckily, every pic she sends is more than enough to make you instantly hard. It feels more guilty not to be turned on, rather.

It’s a mostly quick and painless affair, powerful enough to put you out of commission within minutes. Even though you’re mentally checked out, Yerimiese’s sexy body is too hot not to crank one out. Taking a pic of your erect cock as you pump yourself to her is second nature; sending it on sticky fingers after you’ve spurted all over your phone and blankets is a different story. There’s no other way to put it, she was the perfect reprieve from the day’s exhaustions—a perfect high note to go out on.

> yerimiese: fuck you’re THROBBING THROBBING tonight :ningasm: your dick looks so damn nice. i can taste your cum through the screen

> You: Happy now?

> yerimiese: more than, and then some. I wish you were here right now so you could feel how wet I am

> You: Just wait. I can’t wait to fuck you hard. Goodnight

> yerimiese: goodnight

> yerimiese: :tukkwithkiss:

—————

The next time you’re able to communicate with her, you’re one day away from being in Korea. In that period, you’ve been inactive in the group chat because work. What welcomes you back is a barrage of lewd photos and Yeri fancams.

> yerimiese: see you tomorrow :chuupeek:

It’s an open secret that you know she’s Kim Yerim. Yes, that Kim Yerim of Red Velvet fame. It was a giveaway right from the first explicit photo she sent you; those tits in a tight, petite package couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than hers. That, and the fact that her username is the same as her Instagram handle, and that she has a photo of herself in the group as a display pic. How she would end up stumbling into your private K-pop server objectifying her body and her profession is one of life’s biggest mysteries, yet here she is, giving you a very personal look into her shapely figure, better than any fancam and photoshoot could ever provide. To others, she’s merely a casual acquaintance, but to you, she can freely open up herself.

Mainly because you’re one of three people in the group chat that still cares about Red Velvet.

Her latest sent photo is relatively tame; a tight fitting white silk sundress, and the skirt is virtually nonexistent, her panties practically out in the open. Luckily for you, she seems to be sitting down, but not in her usual living room. The notion that this is what welcomes you to Korea, that you’ll be balls deep inside an idol’s pussy right when you land—it ruins you.

Almost.

An airport guard manages to break your deep train of thought. “Sir! No phones please,” he sternly commands, saving you from total disaster; you’re inches away from walking straight through a metal detector with your phone in hand, the belt around your pants, and some spare coins lying deep in your pocket after you bought some traditionally expensive bottled water. Luckily, no one manages to see the photo—and even if they did, she’s still smart enough to cut out her face, leaving nothing else to your imagination.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about immigration and airport security, it’s that there’s little need for repetition. You go through security four times. At the entrance, after the check-in counter, then within your departure gate, and even before boarding your flight—repetitive. It’s frustrating enough to tell Yerim, to which she responds with more lewd photos of herself.

> yerimiese: yeah ive been there before ㅋㅋㅋ

> yerimiese: how long’s ur flight?

> You: About 13 hours

> yerimiese: cali?

> You: Yes

> yerimiese: kinda random, but seulgi misses los angeles

> You: How come?

> yerimiese: something about an ex-boyfriend that i didn’t know about until the other day ㅋㅋㅋ i bet she’ll be jealous when she hears about you coming over just to clap my cheeks ㅋㅋㅋ she’d wish it was her bf instead of you

> You: does she know about this?

> yerimiese: of course not LOL i bet you’d rather fuck her instead of me, so she’ll never know. smh.

> You: That’s not true ur my RV bias since day one!

> yerimiese: stop lying LMAO i don’t blame you tho seulgi has some really toned legs and a nice slappable ass XD anyway, i’m gonna send you something to pass the time while ur onboard

> You: If it’s a masturbating clip i swear to god

> yerimiese: fuck you got me LOL

> You: Goddamit if anyone finds out on a plane of all places…

> yerimiese: i still can’t get over your clip of you jerking to me. i can taste your dick. you’re depriving me by leaving me out to dry for a week ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’ve been touching yourself to that clip for a week??

> yerimiese: can’t help myself, album prep has been tiring and i haven’t really found any opportunity to relax in the meantime

> You: I’ll be there soon, just wait a bit longer

> yerimiese: can’t trust me with that, i’m very close to making a huge mess of my hotel room ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’re in a hotel?

> yerimiese: just to meet you! I won’t be able to meet you at the airport (duh, idol dating shit), so this is the next best thing. just message me when you’ve landed here, okay?

> You: Sure

—————

It’s ingrained deep within Yerim’s mind. A core memory. If her phone could present count how many times she’s played the clip, it would be over a thousand.

It’s very straightforward. A 45 second clip of someone masturbating between the sheets, pressing their erect cock against their phone with a brightened image of a scantily clad woman on the screen. But it’s not just any woman, it’s her. She’s pleasuring herself to the idea of a man jerking off to her. She’s following his rhythm, timing the pace her fingers rub her clit to the tempo of the man’s cock pumping to her zoomed-in breasts.

And she’s mere minutes removed from a conversation with that exact same person.

Slumped against the hotel room walls, her bliss spirals out of control rapidly. Her legs are instinctively spread wide, juices already leaking through her panties and spilling to the floor; that’s how used they are to Yerim’s impulses to pleasure herself. In those brief moments, she imagines how the next few days play out, skipping past the formalities and pleasantries and going straight to the fucking. She moans and shouts as if that very man’s cock is penetrating her pussy hard at this very moment. Her other hand bashes the wall, tongue screaming streams of profanities, as if he’s manhandling her, using her to his personal delight.

“Fuck! Suck those fucking tits!” she screams, slipping one strap of her sundress down to pinch her own tit, enhancing the illusion. Her phone rings; in her mind it's functionally a vibrator. He’s come fully prepared, and she’s riding high knowing that this person is doing exactly what he said in their private messages from the very start.

Yerim drags her fingers along her clit violently, desperate to reach climax, the realization that this is her third orgasm of the day way beyond her. The evidence can be found everywhere: on the soiled bed sheets and in the smell of the shower; she envisions herself getting railed in those parts of the room, and then some—essentially turning the entire hotel room into the backdrop for all of the things he’d do to her: fingers around her throat, sunk into her ass, until it’s red and hurting, the way she’d quiver and cream all over his throbbing cock. Her neediness has no limits; it even breaks past her very own personal quarters, the loudness of her own self-induced pleasure drawing concern from occupants nearby.

Only after the blissful haze of orgasm does everything fall back in place. That repetitive knock on the door is a huge wake up call. Yerim’s eyes widen.

“Shit.”

She checks her fingers—they’re coated in copious amounts of slick—and after a little further inspection, she realizes the aftermath.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

—————

Being honest about yourself, you couldn’t have asked to feel hornier at a worse time than this. Thirty thousand feet high up in the air, stuck in economy class because you don’t get paid enough to deal with the bullshit back in the office. Using your one of two allowed leaves in the year for a trip to see a girl you’ve mostly known online, and it isn’t even paid. To make things worse, there’s no layovers—just a point-to-point flight from San Francisco to Seoul. 13 hours.

And boy, is the ride absolutely miserable.

By what you might as well call divine intervention, you’re conveniently seated between a nun and a little girl—the two worst kinds of people to be alongside with. No, not because they’re annoying or anything like that; aside from the girl getting up every thirty minutes from her window seat to get something from her parents across the aisle, you’re practically barred access to your glorified archive of lewd Yerim pics. Opening them up with a kid barely in the first grade beside you is openly asking for trouble.

And the few times you get up for a lavatory break, you can’t get yourself going. There’s always someone at the door every five minutes.

Eight hours deep into the flight, you look over your shoulder, catch one of the male flight attendants sneak inside one of the vacant lavatories with a fellow stewardess while everyone’s fast asleep. Fucking sickening. That should be you with Yerim right now.

When you arrive on the other side of the planet, you’ve gotten only a couple hours’ worth of sleep. You almost fumble your passport at immigration, getting them mixed up with a slew of business and membership cards. Then there’s your forgetfulness working against you, remembering you need some kind of pocket Wi-Fi, and now you have to spend a little more to get back online. It’s a mess, and it wasn’t that long since you were in Europe for a seminar, where these things were merely second nature to you.

At least you remembered that VPNs exist. You message Yerim on the taxi ride out of the airport, unsure of where to begin.

> You: Just got out of immigration

> yerimiese: fuckin finally!

> yerimiese: you got a place to stay here?

> You: Not yet

> yerimiese: don’t bother, lemme send you my hotel address, you can stay here

Of course you don’t know Korean, despite the constant back and forth with Yerim for months. Learning’s been on the backend of your itinerary, and has never been your top priority, even now. You show the cab driver the address, who merely looks at you and the phone with a particularly vacant and dumbfounded expression, as if you’re stupid for not planning this out—which, in that regard, he’d be correct.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, only one message stands between you and finally meeting Yerimiese, once and for all.

> yerimiese: I’ll be at the poolside, third floor. can’t wait to meet you :P

And that’s exactly where you end up going. Forget that you’re lugging two whole bags and a traveler’s backpack on your shoulders; you drop them off at the front desk, expecting the staff to have a clue of what’s going on and what’s about to happen.

Stepping out into the poolside, it’s a completely barren sight. It’s three in the afternoon on a Tuesday; most people probably aren’t even booked, let alone in this supposed five-star hotel. You don’t really question whether she’s being serious or not, the evidence was in the previously sent photos; you’re dying to meet her at this point.

And as if perfectly timed for dramatic effect, a woman emerges from beneath the waters, shaking off the wetness from her damp hair.

Yerim casually swims over the deep waters’ edge, without a care in the world, let alone your presence quietly shadowing over the large pool. Even halfway submerged, you can make out the outline of her shapely bust and hourglass figure, tightly hugged by a pink swimsuit. She was sultry and intoxicating to gawk at from candid photos, but seeing Yerimiese herself in the flesh, that’s when the realization hits you: this is happening.

And you can’t move a muscle, let alone react from the actualization that you’re right in front of her. Even as the waves of water splash on your new loafers, you simply observe. It’s creepy, it’s morally dubious, but it’s one in a million. You’re taking in every moment, every second; soak it all in, you’ll never get an experience like this ever again.

You should be friends by now, if your definition of friendship means sharing explicit body photos and exchanging devious intentions about how you’ll fuck each other online or how much cum you’ve given to each other. But when she turns in your direction—catching you casually observing her, your hands tucked away in your coat’s pocket, grinning like a little kid— it’s back to square one.

Like the very first time.

Yerim takes all the time in the world to wade over from the other side of the pool, her smile growing closer as she approaches you. She lifts her eyebrows, expecting you to make a first move, to which you barely open your mouth, and ultimately only a deep breath, a stilted sigh, comes out.

Well, this is awkward.

Yerim giggles. You’ve previously heard her loud moans and cries, but a genuine laugh—this was your first. She never hops on calls in your group chat, most likely because idol shit, as she often refers to her line of work. Her laughter, her energetic expression—it’s as perfect of a translation to real life as it is online, and embodies the idol Yeri you know on screen.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asks, trying—and failing—to suppress more of her laughter.

Your answer is concise, but doesn’t seem quite right. “A while.”

In reality, about five minutes. You probably won’t be there any longer when she props herself out of the water with her strong elbows. Water cascades down her shapely figure, thicker and meatier than it's ever been, more than what the cameras and pictures present. She’s truly the entire package, through and through.

She walks over to her sunlounger, granting you a nice peek of her ass peeking through her skimpy swimsuit before she wraps herself with a towel. Apart from that, your only other notable observation is that she’s soaking wet, even bundled up. That, and also: she’s barefoot. No sign of slippers or any footwear—she willingly walked on what appears to be scorching cobbled floors.

“I would give you a big hug right now, but you know—” she comments, looking down at her drenched self, pool water endlessly dripping down to her feet. Even if she isn’t soaking wet, you’d still be frozen in place, or even worse, some eagle-eyed stranger or Dispatch reporter catch you in secret and you both end up on national news the very next day.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you say, trying to dodge Yerim’s eyes. “I left my stuff at the front desk. I should probably go and grab them.”

“Smart.” Yerim sizes you up, nodding in amazement at how you’ve managed to get yourself past the entrance. “See you upstairs, then? Room 1015.”

—————

The difference between you and Yerim couldn’t be any more obvious.

Granted, you’re fresh off a 13 hour flight, followed by an hour's travel from the airport to a five-star hotel in the heart of Seoul. Yerim had all the time in the world to prepare, and yet when she emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a modest bathrobe and her dark hair bundled up, she’s never looked better.

Facing an idol in such a haggard condition, it gives you an underlying feeling of shame. And if you’re being completely honest, if not for your cock, she’d probably be repulsed and call security on you.

But there's no security in sight. Just you, just yeri, the two of you standing in this room - which is, for the most part, quite nice. Multiple bedrooms, a lovely view of the city beneath you, and all sorts of amenities and features you’ll never get to use—you half expect her members to come in later, but perhaps for your sake, you’re better off with just her and her alone.

When Yerim begins to talk, she rambles. She goes on about the status of the next album, discussions about a possible solo debut, her relationships with her members—conversations about topics that you never really had online. It was mostly dirty talk and lewd captions. At best, you knew each other at a surface level, but here she is, sharing everything from her heart like you’ve been lifelong friends since day one.

You let her. She’s as charismatic as what she portrays on screen, and her sass is no different than the private messages she sends you. There’s not a single dull moment whenever Yerim speaks. Though you know her mostly for her body, her personality is what has you sticking around.

You wonder if she feels the same way about you.

“So, how’d you find out about us?” Yerim asks, after blabbering for a while, and you genuinely believe she’d keep going till nightfall. Close enough. Five minutes away from five in the afternoon, and you’d already spent the last hour and a half listening to a personalized podcast from her. You hope she doesn’t notice the plate of bulgogi on the table now completely empty.

“Well, a friend was a K-pop fan and had an extra ticket when you toured here,” you say, casually, slumped on the sofa. “Forgot how long that was—” you pause, “five years ago?”

“Five years? Five years since we went to America?” Yerim appears flabbergasted, face in utter disbelief at the passage of time. The realization causes her to stand from her chair. You’d be too after listening to her drone on endlessly. “Fuck.”

“SM! Give us a fucking world tour already!” she screams, pretending she’s inside the company building and you’re an executive in the room. Watching her snarkiness come to life never ceases to amuse you. You’ll let her go on for as long as she needs to; she’s entertaining in such a unique and charming way that it disarms you.

“Argh, sorry, you know me.” She suddenly stops, faces you, arms crossed, mocking up a pout. “Look at me suddenly losing my shit for no good reason.”

“Are your members used to this?”

That didn’t come out right.

She bats an eyelid. On her face is a mild, blank look of displeasure. That didn’t come out right.

“Used to what?”

“Well, uh, I—I mean—”

You gulp your throat.

“Stop.”

Then, an air of awkward silence. Her eyes quickly scan you, lazing on the sofa.

“Let’s just get to fucking each other right now.”

—————

It isn’t that you’ve forgotten the one purpose you’re there to begin with, it’s that Yerim is very, very impulsive. One moment, upset at her company for doing the bare minimum for her group and her career, the next she’s using you as an outlet to release her frustrations. It’s a good thing your first impression of her was that she was very busty, because otherwise, the other description you had of her was—simply put—bratty.

You’re on your back, plopped against one of the beds, completely caught off-guard by her show of strength. Eyes rolled to the back of your head, you find Yerim already at the bed’s edge, loosening the belt around her waist, quickly disrobing herself within seconds. It’s nothing new; you’ve seen glimpses of her nude figure in pictures, imagined many scenarios where you’ve got your hands on her, but this—to see her completely bare in the flesh—is new.

This is different.

“Just so you know,” you mutter, frantically panting, your heart jumping, as Yerim undresses in front of you, “I haven’t actually had sex before.”

Just like that, the mood instantly changes. She stops. Abruptly.

“What?”

Her mouth drops—again. Might as well stay agape.

You consider retracting your statement. It was a joke, you’d say, something to get her even more aroused, fired up. The sex would be wilder, hotter than anything your fantasies would conjure. Then again, you wouldn’t be in this exact situation if you weren’t so chronically online, simping over pop idols like a kid about to enter puberty.

“I guess that’s to be expected,” she comments, snarkily, grabbing the edges of your pants, daring to rip them off you. “That’s fucking life, baby!”

If you were in her shoes, obsessively waiting for someone with equally unhinged horniness, expressing precisely how you’d get fucked every single time you’d send a remotely lewd photo, you’d feel just as disappointed. You can tell by her partially scornful expression: she’s been fantasizing this moment as much as you have, too. You can’t blame her, but you kind of expected her to anticipate this; after all, you connected in a private group chat that’s been sexualizing her, of all places.

Surely the signs of virginity were right there.

“At least this is real,” she says, leaning her head forward while cupping your growing bulge poking through your trousers. Your tip, at full mast, mere inches away from her chin, instead of a little phone screen. She’s pushing you around, growing slightly more mischievous and uncontrollable with the prospect of throwing someone like you around instead of the opposite. Something her members may have taught and ingrained in her.

It isn’t quite the picture you expected from all the erotic snapshots and clips she’s been sending you. Every photo and video, designed to rouse the filthiest and wildest of your thoughts, was an act, a ruse to let your guard down, to give you this fixed headcanon that you can toss her around like she’s your personal plaything and object of pleasure. Instead, she’s using you for her own desires and wants.

It’s not that you don’t want her to use you and fuck you like this, it’s how completely in control she is that has you reeling, leaves you in a dizzy spell.

“I was gonna let you use my pussy and fuck me to ruin,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, teasing and mocking. Her hand grips around the denim of your bulge, and it fucking stings. You’re sucking on loose air. “But since we have a virgin over here, I’m gonna do whatever I want.”

The implied connotation is what terrifies you, and no, it isn’t the revelation that Yerim isn’t a virgin—you assumed that much—but the notion that you were gonna have free reign over her cunt that has you contemplating some deep, long forgotten life decisions that set you back years. Their consequences are now starting to show.

She releases her ironclad grip on your pants, frees you of your obstructive clothing, both trousers and boxers down to the floor. Your hard cock springs free, terribly aching, already red and sore from her suffocating clench, and already leaking bursts of precum. The last day and a half hasn’t been kind to your cock.

To add insult to injury, she makes this licking motion with her tongue, aimed at your tip, but relents at the last minute. It leaves your throbbing cock aching harder, without any point of relief. The teasing sight almost renders you unconscious, and sends Yerim into a laughing frenzy.

“Remember when I said I could taste your cock?” she says, chuckling. It’s not playful in the slightest—quite the opposite, in fact. It’s sinister. “I’ll wait a little longer to taste it. Don’t worry.”

Not the most reassuring of words, especially when you’ve got your hands tied—at least, not yet. Actually, you appreciate that she isn’t going to milk your cock dry just yet; when you finally look past the situation at hand, you come to treasure her chest. Her shapely chest, freely bouncing while she bounces her thick body on your lap—keep doing that, you say inside your mind, letting your wandering gaze soak in the unreal scene.

She notices your intrigued eyes, rising and falling in rhythm with her tits. Subtlety was never your intention, and she probably knows from experience, as she says she does. Fixated attention is how she gets herself off, based on how she seems to respond to the lewd messages you’ve sent her in the past, and it shows when she repeats some choice remarks back to your face:

“I’d kill my boss to fuck those tits right now, you’re so goddamn sexy.”

She grips a hand around your throat, another down to the buttons of your shirt, pulling them apart.

“Let me be your personal titty towel.”

Halfway there.

“I’d suck on your tits first, go down on your delicious pussy, then fuck that wet hole of yours three times straight.”

Just like that, you’re both even. Equal in nakedness.

You’re unsure whether it’s the sight of Yerim asserting her dominance over you, tits all up in your face with a devious smirk as she bares you down to your essentials that’s leaving you short on air, or if it’s the hand cautiously coiled around your neck. Either option seems sensible enough. This is how she lives in your head rent free, just being her sassy, sexy self. Even repeating some of the same particularly questionable lewd things you’ve written to her sounds hot with her brazen tone.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she raises an eyebrow, leaning her head close, as if demanding an answer.

Really, there’s no multiple choice here. Of course you nod.

She rolls her hips upward, inches her body across yours little by little, til her dripping pussy completely shadows your view. Her hand grabs the back of your head, meaty thighs pressing between your face. Now you’re truly suffocating. Even with the rather shameful admission, she rolls her crotch on your lips, expecting you to know what to do. No words, just the expectant grind of her crotch on your face, her wet folds opening up for you to take them.

Then, she begins moaning.

Admittedly, the closest you’ve had to trying out oral is using your phone as an outlet for your tongue whenever she sends a boob photo. Thankfully, your inexperience doesn’t show when you first dip your tongue inside her folds, getting your first taste of pussy. Saltier than you expected, but fuck, you’d be lying if you think it wasn’t completely intoxicating—everything you hoped for, and more.

It incites a few expressive reactions from Yerim—some loud, others quieter—with the end result usually a sharper, deeper grind of her waist on your face, splaying her cunt for you to devour. You’ve got one hand pressed on her ass, holding her plump flesh down while the other is at her mercy, pulled by hers, forced to squeeze her breast. You won’t complain. Not when her cries of pleasure motivate you to push yourself harder.

You repeat this addictive cycle, stretch moments into minutes, minutes into hours. Even when you’ve drained her completely, you’ll still be craving for more of her; that’s how hungry she’s made you. Your tongue meets her clit, and it draws out this especially sharp whine that she’s never hit once. Not on a track. Not anywhere. She swears up a storm, juxtaposed between soft, gentle pleas of “yes, more, and you’re so good.”

In return, you take more of her, soak yourself in the continuous downpour of her slick juices freely flowing all over your mouth and tongue. As her pleasure escalates, her fingers tighten their grasp on your head, grab your tousled hair. You add soft, intimate kisses between streaks of licking her folds, and they send the young idol writhing, shaking atop you. Her words have been reduced to nothing but short, needy bursts of “please.” Even in this uncontrollable state, she gyrates her hips around you, rhythm steady, but more determined than ever to let herself go.

By the way her pussy throbs, you’re certain she’s a few critical points away from climax. It doesn’t change your plans, not one bit. You continue to lap at her sensitive folds, bask in her intoxicating heat, purposefully teasing her clit. She won’t demand that you end her —not this quickly, not when you’ve magically learned the art of giving oral to a woman under short notice.

You slowly work her through it. Your tongue dives into her slick entrance, deeper than it's ever been so far. The overpowering sensations send ripples that reach even the foundations of the bed, unlike anything it’s ever felt. Even in the wild throes of bodily pleasure, Yerim has enough willpower to stay in character, delivering a demand in her usual playful, fast talking tone. “Please do it! I’m going to cum!”

You contemplate the thought, completely drunk in her divine taste yourself, but you oblige.

Your tongue sticks to her bud, and it causes this instantaneous, elaborate chain reaction. Yerim cries a sharp cry, waves of orgasm washing down all over her body. She stops in her tracks, completely rigid, mouth wide open, and this torrential gush of slick and orgasm swamps you, drowning you so deep that it's nearly fatal. Her thighs involuntarily clench tighter, too, and you’re temporarily trapped in your own pocket dimension, impossible to clean with all the cum left behind, especially on the sheets.

The most surprising observation from her orgasm is how suddenly calm it becomes. Only the sound of your tongue licking her clean can be heard, and it’s nothing but a gentle rustle. She hangs her head up, face completely flushed, catching needed oxygen in her lungs, letting the aftermath of her climax pass over.

While her breath normalizes, she lifts herself up, moves to the side of the bed. In her wake, she’s left behind a drenched lake of slick around your face, leaking down to the muddled sheets beneath you.

“Well,” she says, panting and pausing for air. “There goes the other bed.”

It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out what she meant. Even when you’re still mindlessly occupied by the sticky residue around your lips. You let out this muffled exhale, designed to be a laugh, but it backfires in your face. Amused, she giggles on your behalf.

“Not bad.” Yerim smiles at you. Charming and cute, a contrast to what had just transpired. “I thought you said you never had sex?”

It takes you a moment before you answer back, “I haven’t. You just taste really good.”

“You still have some left on the edges of your face,” she comments, her eyes mesmerized by how much she’s cum all over you. “Let me help you clean that up.”

And she helps, but not in a conventional way. She lifts you from the bed by your torso, then submerges you again, this time at the mercy of her bosom. You’ve got your arms wrapped around her waist while you’re kissing and sucking on her Yerim’s tits, not exactly tidying up, but creating a larger mess that no amount of tongue cleaning can resolve.

In the meantime, she whispers in your ear some of your more—questionable—comments:

“They need to give her a solo debut with a very sexy concept and trust me, I’ll be the guy who breaks the world record for jerking off if they do that.”

“It must feel heavy to carry them all the time. Let me lend a hand to you.”

“The only thought I had inside my mind when I saw her is every member would milk her 3x a day so that they don’t have to go outside and buy milk to eat cereal to the point they would just drink it from the source.”

You stop. You give her this strange, confused look. Even you couldn’t believe you said that.

“Did I actually say that?”

“Yes!” she replies, quick and straightforward, unable to hide her enthusiasm, while brushing your hair. “Not gonna lie, that sent me to the floor. I was laughing so hard, Irene ran in to check up on me!”

To make things worse, she flashes this wide, toothy grin that makes you regret your life choices.

“God. I don’t wanna drink anymore.”

“Hey, if there’s any consolation, you wouldn’t be sucking on my tits and eating me out now if you never made that comment,” she says, caressing your chin and giving you a peck on the lips. As if it’s still not one of the most out of pocket comments you’ve ever made about anyone, let alone a celebrity—and you weren’t fully yourself.

“Relax. Don’t think about it too much.” Yerim pushes you back down to the bed, crawls atop you, meeting your lips again for an intimate kiss. Your hard cock, which has been left unattended for quite a while, captures your attention—and especially hers. “Lean back for me, will you?”

You comply. Involuntarily, your legs straighten, but Yerim pushes them apart, places herself at center view, seemingly ready to take you in her mouth. It makes sense; a woman with a mouth that runs like hers probably only stops when there’s cock stuffed inside them. The theory proves to be plausible when she gives your sensitive tip a delicate, yet dangerous lick, her eyes glinting at you with renewed vigor and lust.

“I told you I’d have a taste of that cock,” she says, half smug, half seductive, gloating with her brows. Your tenseness slightly recedes—until you realize your cock’s moving past her lips, in the direction of the space between her cleavage. “I didn’t say I wanted to suck on it.”

And she was right—not once has she ever expressed her desire to choke, gag, deepthroat on it.

You grit your teeth, watching your cock disappear between her shapely tits, with Yerim personally making sure you comfortably fit like a glove. You fold. It’s snug. Hot. Breathtaking.

“Fuck, Yeri,” you mutter, closing your eyes as her inviting warmth leaves you weak in the knees, trembling. You don’t realize you’ve used her stage name over her real name. “God—”

“Does this feel like everything you wanted?” she asks, tone sultry and triumphant. A little slide up sends you into a frenzy.

You nod—even though there’s no other available options. The erotic image in front of you is permanently seared into your head: Kim Yerim, popular idol and to an extend, your ‘friend with benefits,’ grinning like a maniac, slowly fucking your cock between her tits, coated with your saliva, sweat, and copious amounts of precum. To think your little crude messages on a random forum would have such long term and drastic consequences such as this.

Not that you’d want to make sense of it all, especially when she gets into a rhythm. Sliding her breasts up and down, she’s delicate, intentional, and masochistic; you’re on the receiving end of how she felt when you were slowly eating her out. She’s dangerous, teetering between the line where your cock can be safe between her bosom and where she can break you in half. You’re already falling apart—and fast.

“Holy shit, Yerim. Fuck.”

Each word you deliver is long and drawn out, especially the profanities. Heavenly music to her ears. She’s out of reach where you can pull by her hair, so you settle for the sheets instead. Your gaze wanders, travels everywhere but in her direction, because you don’t need to see the tortuous scene happening between your legs. Looking at the descending sun, this is probably the last time you’ll see the sun set in your life.

Her eyes challenge you to look at anywhere from her. Panting frantically, you find yourself at the mercy of Yerim’s whims, your cock fading and swelling into view, sticky and wet, gushing cum all over her tits. The sight drives you further mad, has you making sounds that have never been recorded—ever. She takes you in, delights in your suffering, eager for you to say the magic words.

“Ready to cum? I know you want to cum.”

Even under duress, you’re not ready to fold just yet. There’s a little stubbornness inside you fighting back, pulling all the stops to keep you from surrendering to Yerim’s demands. You close your eyes, grip on the sheets even tighter, control your breathing, but it’s too little too late. You can only do so much with two hands.

“Cum for me.”

You hold onto a particularly deep breath, desperate to cling to whatever dying vestiges of control there is left, but your fate has already been sealed from the moment you’ve allowed your cock to enter her chest.

“Yerim, I—”

The exhale you release is the most relieving and satisfying. With it, comes out a rope of thick, creamy cum splashed all over her neck and chest. The aching, violent sensation doesn’t stop; more seed spills between the warmth of her cleavage. In one fell swoop, you feel all of your energy sapped from you, leaving you completely weak and powerless.

In the gap between your climax and post-orgasm haze, you wonder if she’ll take some of your cum in her mouth, with the way she looks at your cock as it throbs beneath her chin. No. She lets it drip down her perfect naked body with a sticky white sheen that glows under the natural light piercing through the hotel’s window.

“Just like that, hm,” she comments, casually flicking the last of your withering orgasm and cum with her wrist. She lathers the slick on her fingers on her shoulder, then places some into her mouth for a taste.

After you regain a semblance of normalcy—after Yerim’s finished entertaining herself with your cum, staring at her coated body and fingers with curious interest—she rests her elbows on your knees, in the process of relearning how to bend. You sink back against the headrest, watch as the fading sun glimmers on an idol like her, destined to shine for every occasion possible—on the stage and under the afterglow of sex. She smiles, bright and wide, taking you in, as you are.

There’s something brewing, especially in the tender few minutes that follow. Something special, something more than just a spark.

“So—” Yerim runs a sticky finger on your knee, dangerously close to stirring up your cock again. “You wanna try anal with me next?��

You pause. Widening your eyes, staring back with a look of disbelief. Just when you’re about to open your mouth to reply, she adds:

“Kidding. You do know that you’re gonna have to delete those tweets and comments, right? If they find out you’re here, you’re fucked. And I mean, a thousand times worse than now.”

—————

(A/N: This was an absolute joy to write. The nature of the request meant I could go very meta with it. About time we get a proper Red Velvet full album, so perfect timing! If you're able to figure out some of the references and easter eggs, then you, my friend, are too engrossed in the Tumblr K-pop male reader smut lore. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

#smut #kpop smut #yeri #red velvet

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 16

Just one more chapter left, and in cased you missed it, I won't be doubling up on chapters per day this week. The last chapter will be out next week.

Doubling up really killed the numbers for these stories, half the time people were only reacting and commenting on the SECOND chapter.

But don't worry, what this means is that your favorites you've been seeing snippets of on WIP will get quicker releases this way.

In this Eddie's rut progresses as normal, they talk about Steve's status, and Eddie and Benny learn some very interesting things about golden omegas.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15

****

Eddie came to and was sure that at least a day had passed, but he looked at the clock on Steve’s nightstand and frowned. It had only been five hours since his rut had started. He looked in the wastebasket and there were only three condoms in it which fit the time frame.

He looked around, but Steve wasn’t there. He sat up and the sheet that had been covering his waist slid off. He looked down and saw that his dick was sheathed with another condom.

There was some of Steve’s slick on the sheets, but considering Eddie was still in them, he figured Steve couldn’t change them yet.

He could hear Steve humming to a beat in the kitchen and padded out there.

He smiled fondly as he watched the omega dance around his kitchen to the music in his head. Bopping and hopping as he made a wholesome snack.

“That snack looks good, baby,” he said, his alpha rumbling happily, “but I would rather eat you.”

Steve squeaked. “Eddie! You’re awake! How do you feel?”

For the first time since he woke up, he took stock of his body, really examining it.

“Warm, sated...” he said furrowing his brow, “happy?”

Steve beamed at him. “Yay! That means your rut is progressing as it should. It seems like your body is adjusting better to the low light and you’re more lucid.”

Eddie came up behind him and buried his nose into Steve’s scent gland. “All because of you, sweetness.”

Steve squawked when Eddie picked him and spun him around.

When Eddie finally put him down Steve swatted at him playfully. “You absolute menace.”

Eddie cackled. “Yes, but I’m your menace.”

Steve turned around in his arms and kissed him deeply. Their cocks brushed against each other and he let out a low moan.

“So good...”

Eddie nipped at Steve’s chin. “Let’s get some food in us and then I want something else in you.”

Steve snorted. They ate and hydrated before Eddie picked Steve up bridal style and carried him back to the bedroom.

Eddie could feel himself sliding back into the blind haze of his rut, but the scent of the omega underneath him stirred some distant memory, but it was lost in the next moment when Steve moaned.

The pattern continued like that for the five days. Steve and Eddie taking care of each other while Eddie was lucid, Steve taking care him when he wasn’t.

Eddie had never experienced a rut that had gone so smooth. He understood why alphas paid top dollar for an escort to service their ruts if every one was like this.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to spend another rut without Steve for as long as he was biologically able to experience ruts.

Each time he became lucid, he would become aware for longer. The last day having two hours before the rut took over him again.

But he used those two hours wisely. He talked to Steve.

“Baby,” Eddie said, from the sofa, “come sit for a bit. You know it won’t hit again for awhile, you might as well relax.”

Steve looked over at him and smiled. He padded over to the sofa and curled up onto Eddie’s lap.

“How are you feeling?” he murmured into Eddie’s neck.

“I’m good,” Eddie replied. “This was worth every penny. I see why it’s so popular.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m glad that it’s available to alphas that can’t afford escorts through clinics.”

“That’s a new thing, though right?” Eddie asked. “I don’t remember seeing them when I first presented.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding. “It’s something that a lot of the major escort houses pushed for in recent years, if all alphas can get the same level of care that the rich do, then it lowers the chances of alphas turning feral from bad ruts.”

Eddie grinned. “It would have happened in the last five years or so, would it? Like say when a particular omega became popular?”

Steve blushed but didn’t deny it. Alpha health was something he had been passionate about for awhile. Helping everyone no matter how much money someone had was just the start of what he wanted to do. Mandating sex education for alphas. It was mandated for omegas and beta, but not alphas, because ‘alphas instinctively knew what to do’ with omegas. Which was bullshit.

“I thought so,” Eddie said.

Steve smiled back. “I’ve even got a non-profit going setting up education booths outside high schools for alphas to get pamphlets and other material about their reproductive health.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Eddie said, nearly vibrating with excitement. “We should throw a gala like the one where we met to get the awareness out there.”

“That’s a great idea, Eds,” Steve said, kissing Eddie’s jaw.

They settled down into a warm silence for awhile just taking in each other’s soothing presence.

Eddie nuzzled Steve ear to wake him. “Hey, you tired, sweetness?”

Steve roused himself and looked up at him bleary eyed. “I guess I am. You see this rough and tumble alpha has been keeping my hole hot and full for the few days. Trying to keep up with him is tiring me out.”

Eddie cackled. “Yeah, if he wears you out so bad, you should blacklist him or something.”

“I would, but I’m in love with his cock so...”

Eddie’s head reared back in mock indignation. “Excuse you!”

Steve laughed. He pressed a kiss to Eddie’s scent gland and the alpha purred. Steve’s omega chirped happily in response.

“I love your scent,” Eddie murmured. “It’s not like other escorts I’ve met.”

Steve looked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Chrissy, Elinor, Tommy,” Eddie said. “All smell too sweet. Like fruit rotting on the vine. A terrible but apt metaphor for their condition. But you smell spicy. But in sweet kind of way.”

“I do?” Steve really never thought about his own scent before.

Eddie nodded. “Gareth described it like Mexican hot chocolate. You know the kind that is spiced with peppers?”

Steve nodded back.

“Did you ever think that you might be a golden omega?” Eddie continued.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Never. Like why would I? I’m not special.”

“That’s highly debatable, sweetheart,” Eddie admonished. “But your scent and everything you’ve told me about your family. It’s very possible you could be.”

“Is that why you wanted to court me?” Steve asked, soft and small. Like a mouse.

Eddie pulled Steve in closer. “No baby, I didn’t figure it out until later. I wanted to court you because you are funny and amazing and everything I’ve ever wanted in a mate.”

He lift Steve’s chin up and kissed him deeply. “Plus, I set up the rut way before I put the pieces together. Everything was set to protect me, but it seems to me that it may end up protecting you, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you know, golden omegas can only get pregnant during their heats,” Eddie said. “And since I’m a known scent breaker...”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “You think there is a chance I’ll go into a mini heat, don’t you?”

Eddie nodded. “When I first booked you, it was one of the things Robin was adamant about protecting you from.”

“She’s amazing like that,” Steve murmured.

“She really is,” Eddie cooed. “But it looks like our time is up, honey.”

Steve could feel Eddie’s cock harden under his ass. “Come to bed with me, alpha,” he purred. “Let me take care of you.”

Eddie let Steve pull him to his feet and they walked hand in hand to Steve’s bedroom for the last of Eddie’s rut.

****

When Eddie came to he was not in Steve’s apartment, he was in a smaller hotel room lying on a comfy sofa.

“I’m going to have to burn that sofa after all this,” Robin groused from a nearby armchair. “It will reek of alpha for months if I don’t. I can smell you from here.”

Eddie sat up. He was dressed in soft grey sweatpants and a loose white tank top. No underwear, but then he hadn’t brought any. He ran his fingers through his greasy and sweat slicked hair.

“Fuck,” Eddie grumbled.

“Your manager, Benny sent over a duffel of clothes for you for the next three days.”

Eddie saw the small duffel and snatched it up. “May I please request the use of your shower, milady?”

Robin laughed. “Please do.”

Eddie dashed for the door she pointed to and slammed the door behind him. He stripped his clothes and quickly got under the still cold water. He didn’t want to wait for it to heat up because he felt that gross. His dick was most clean because Steve took the time to wipe him down between condom changes, but he washed it good anyway.

The next thing he focused on was his hair, he had to wash it several times before it felt like it was supposed to. He ran conditioner through the ends of his curls with his fingers, gently massaging it in.

Then he worked on getting the sweat and stink off his body. He hated washing away Steve’s scent, but if he didn’t get clean, Eddie was going to scratch his eyeballs out.

Finally satisfied with how clean he was, he rinsed out his conditioner and stepped out.

He dried off quickly and rummaged through the bag.

Eureka!

Underwear.

Eddie got dressed and then cleaned up his mess, hanging up towels and making sure there wasn’t water everywhere. Uncle Wayne raised him better than to make a mess of someone else’s home.

He opened the door to find Robin and Benny waiting for him.

“Hey, Ben Ten, Birdie,” he greeted, concern dripping from every pore. “What’s happening?”

Benny smiled. “It’s nothing bad. Robin and I were just wrapping up the end of the contract.”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped in relief. He had almost forgotten about the whole thing because he was madly in love with Steve. He sat down on the sofa next to Benny.

“So everything is good?” he asked to be sure.

“Yup!” Robin said brightly. “You are now free to pursue the omega of your dreams.”

Eddie chuckled.

He thought for a moment, licking the bottom of his lip.

“Hey, Robin,” he asked, looking down at his clasped hands, “has an escort ever turned out to be a golden omega?”

Robin and Benny shared a glance.

“You think Steve might be one?” she asked. “Because if he is, that would be fucking hilarious.”

Eddie’s head snapped up.

“His parents have called him useless and a disgrace for being infertile for over a decade,” Robin explained. “To have him be a golden omega who could have been sold for ten to twenty times what he got auctioned for? That would be poetic justice.”

He nodded. “So do you think there’s a chance?”

“Sure,” she said with a half shrug. “The agency doesn’t shout it from the rooftops but yeah, there have been a couple of golden omegas that have come out of Starcourt.”

“How did they find out?” Benny asked, suddenly very interested in where this conversation was going.

“A combination of a couple different ways,” Robin said. “The first is how frequent their heats are. Most golden omegas go into heat more often then regular fertile omegas to make up for the fact they can only get pregnant during their heats.”

Eddie nodded, “And Steve’s are within the normal range?”

She waved her hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s more times a year than a regular omega, but not outside the possibility if you know what I mean.”

“So say a regular omega has four heats a year and golden omega has eight,” Benny said, “Steve’s heat is somewhere in the middle?”

Robin nodded. “Exactly. The other thing is scent. Which you know Steve’s is unusual. But it’s unusual for an omega full stop.”

Benny and Eddie shared a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Alphas scents are spices, like cinnamon, clove, cardamon, or spicy like peppers, or natural woody scents like pine or cedar,” she explained. “Omegas are fruit and floral scents. Sometimes flavors like chocolate or coffee. That includes golden omegas. Infertile omegas have what is always described as rotted fruit. Super sickly sweet.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. “But Steve’s is a mix between the two scents?”

Robin nodded again. “Right. The third thing that helps identify a non-tested golden omega is their resistance to scent breakers.”

“Fuck,” Eddie said. “That means he’s not a golden omega. I thought for sure he was. I even told him he was. That he was so special and precious beyond measure.”

She shook her head. “No, Eddie. That’s where you’re wrong. There is a final thing that helps identify if the omega in question is a golden or not.”

Eddie frowned, “What’s that?”

“There’s a reason golden omegas get their choice of any alpha in the country, if not world,” she said fiercely. “And despite what the media likes to paint it as, it’s not just the rich and elite.”

“It’s not?” Benny asked.

Robin shook her head again. “They’re looking for their soulmate.”

It was like someone had scooped out Eddie’s stomach. “Their what?”

“Soulmate,” Robin said. “The person who completes them. Someone who can break through their scent breaking resistance, someone who’s scent compliments their own, someone who when they share their heats and ruts it goes just about as perfectly as two humans can get. And if they meet that person?”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed.

“Oh.”

****

Soulmates! *jazz hands* Yeah, sorry I couldn't help myself.

Part 17

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #rockstar eddie munson

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year ago

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Carry Your Heart: Danny's Arc Part 1

So I've collected all my snippets from the 1000 follower ask game (and added 800+ words). So enjoy the next part of Carry Your Heart!

Story Summary: Danny meets a ghost, Jason, in the Realms one day when cursing out Chaucer and Mr. Lancer both. Jason is determined to make him see the error of his ways.

And it turns out he can offer his help in more than just English.

They get closer and closer. Then they have their first kiss. Jason, still haunted by his own death, isn't willing to date Danny if he can't grow up by his side. He doesn't want to hold his boyfriend back or face their inevitable breakup when Danny gets too old for him. And he misses his family more than he can say.

He goes to seek out Desiree to make a wish.

First, Previous

Word Count: 2.6k

-----

Danny floated back and forth—pacing without legs—in front of the door to the examination room. Frostbite was in there with Jason. Other yetis rushed in and out, most able to spare him nothing more than a sympathetic look as they hurried off to get some medicine or another expert or a new device.

He just wanted to know.

What had happened to Jason? He’d been fine the last time they’d seen each other. It’d been perfect. Jason had enjoyed the date and even kissed him and he was supposed to be there again today. He just wanted his boyfriend.

He landed heavily on the floor, and buried his face in his knees, back pressed against the wall just waiting for someone, anyone, to tell him anything.

But it was hours more before Frostbite came out. And when he did, his face was grim.

“I’m sorry, great one. We cannot determine what has happened to your companion nor how to help him.”

Danny core stuttered, and he launched himself at the yeti, wrapping him in a hug. “No, you have to be able to do something. Please. He can’t—” His breath caught. He wouldn’t finish the sentence. Voicing it would make it true.

Frostbite hugged him back, his thick arms and fur made his hugs the most comforting ones Danny had ever felt. “We will, of course, continue to research Jason’s condition and try new treatments. However…”

Danny tensed and sniffed, trying to keep himself from succumbing to tears again. “However?”

“Jason is a fire core. The Far Frozen is not an appropriate environment for him while he is in such a delicate state. A few hours, even a day or so, every few weeks will not hurt and will allow us to try new therapies. But he will not thrive if he stays here longer than that.”

Danny lost the fight and cried into his mentor’s chest. Where else could he take Jason? Where would he be safe? What would happen if he brought him home and his parents found him? Would they even recognize what he was?

Before too long, though, Danny pulled away. “Will he be safe here for just a bit longer? I need to go home. See if, see if I can keep him safe.”

“Of course, Great One. We will watch over your friend for as long as you need us to. And we will prepare a heated chamber for him to rest in. But I urge you to return quickly.”

Danny nodded. “I will. Will he… Does he understand what’s going on? Can I say goodbye?”

Frostbite stepped back and placed a giant paw on Danny’s back. “We do not know what he may be aware of while he is in this state. But you are, of course, welcome to say your goodbyes. If he is aware, I am certain he will appreciate them.”

Frostbite led him into the room. Jason, appearing as a mostly blackened coal, his fire only barely visible deep in his core, was floating over a pedestal, three other yetis around him taking notes on tablets.

“The Great One wishes to speak to his suitor,” announced Frostbite when they entered. “Please give them some privacy.”

The yetis all murmured their agreements and filed out, each wishing luck and good health and condolences to Danny as they did.

“I shall be just outside. Take as long as you need.”

“Is there anything I should know? Will I hurt him if I touch him or anything?”

Frostbite shook his head. “Be gentle, of course, but there is little you can do by accident that will worsen his condition.” He patted Danny on the head, then followed his people out of the room.

For a minute, Danny was frozen. Jason was just a few feet away, but Danny couldn’t bring himself to move closer. He didn’t want to do this. Why did this have to happen now? When things were finally going well for him?

Danny sniffed again and floated forward. “Hey, Jay,” he started. “Um, Frostbite says that he and his yetis can’t figure out what happened or how to help you.” Danny’s voice cracked, but he kept going. “I’m… I’m gonna do what I can to help you. Find the people or medicine that can help.” He reached out a hand and gently brushed the edge of Jason’s core. “I just… I need to make sure I can keep you safe, first. I’m gonna, I’m gonna tell my parents. And if, when, they accept me, I’m gonna come back for you and bring you home.

“And then my parent’s can help find a cure for you, too. They’re brilliant, you know,” Danny choked back a sob. “With them and Frostbite working together? We’ll have you fixed up right away. So hang tight, okay? I’ll be back for you soon.” Danny leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Jason’s core. The surface was rough; after pulling away, he rubbed at his lips, half expecting to see soot on his gloves. But they were clean. With a sigh, he turned and left the room, only glancing back once when he got to the door.

“Great One, are you ready to depart?” asked Frostbite from the hall.

Danny peeled his eyes away from his boyfriend and nodded. “Yeah. I am. I’ll be back soon, though. I promised.”

“I have full faith in you. I wish you safe travels.”

Danny gave a half-smile. “Thanks. I just need to make sure I have a safe place to take him. Once I confirm that, I’ll be back to collect Jason.”

“I shall have sentries posted to watch for your return.”

With one last thanks, Danny left.

The trip to the portal seemed both endless and like it was over in no time. Rumors had spread from the mad dash he’d taken to the Far Frozen and no one bothered him on his return.

And then he was in front of the portal. With a deep breath, he turned invisible and crossed over. His parents weren’t in the lab. Good. That meant he had a few minutes. He could get Jazz, let Sam and Tucker know what had happened. Prepare for what was going to come next.

He transformed and made his way upstairs. No parents in the living room or kitchen.

“Jazz?” he called out.

Footsteps echoed from upstairs, then Jazz was hanging over the railing. “Danny! Welcome back. You were gone quite a while. Get up to trouble with your boyfriend?” she grinned at him.

Danny didn’t know what expression he made at her innocent question, but Jazz’s smile disappeared.

“What’s wrong?”

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it again. Where did he even start? He rubbed at his eyes and focused on just breathing. “Jay, he’s… Something happened, Jazz.”

Suddenly Jazz was in front of him and hugging him tight. “It’s okay, Danny. We’ll figure it out. What happened?”

He clutched at her shirt, just trying to keep from breaking down in tears again. “Jason, he… He’s in a coma, Jazz. Frostbite and his doctors can’t figure out what happened or how to fix him.”

Jazz ran her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Danny. I’m so sorry. I’m sure they’ll figure it out, though. They’re the experts.”

Danny shook his head. “They can’t keep him there. It’s the Far Frozen and Jason has a fire core. It’s not safe for him to be there when he’s so weak, Frostbite said.”

Jazz let out a steady breath and squeezed tighter. “What are you going to do?”

Danny pulled away. “Jason is trapped as just his core. I can’t leave him in the Far Frozen and there’s no one else I trust to be able to keep him safe. I have to keep him here, with me.”

Jazz bit her lip. “Danny…”

Danny held up his hand. “I know what you’re thinking. If mom and dad found a ghost core in my room or my backpack? No. I’m not going to risk Jason like that. So I have to tell them. Once they know, they’ll accept me. And I’ll convince them that Jason is harmless and it’ll be fine. It’ll be just fine.” Danny clutched his hands into fists and crossed his arms to hide the fact that he was shaking. His parents would accept him.

They had to.

Jazz stared at him for a long moment and Danny had no clue as to what she was thinking. But then she sighed and ran a hand through her own hair. “Okay. Okay, we’ll do this your way. It’ll be fine. You’re right. But we’re getting Sam and Tucker here first and we’re putting together a go-bag. We’re not going to need it. But we’ll have it.”

Danny forced a smile. “We’re not going to need it.”

“Now, text your friends. Mom and Dad will be home in an hour or two.”

Danny did as told. As soon as he hit send, his phone started vibrating with two incoming calls. He hesitated just a moment before answering as a three-way call. “Jason’s been hurt,” he said, interrupting their shouted questions. “He’s been forced into his core. Frostbite can’t figure out how to help him and since he’s a fire core, he can’t stay in the Far Frozen. I want to bring him back here and keep him safe with me—”

“But your parents,” finished Sam.

“Yeah.” Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “So I’m gonna tell them. Can you come?”

“Of course, dude!” exclaimed Tucker. “Almost out the door now. I’ll be there in ten.”

“It’ll be twenty for me,” said Sam. Then she hummed. “Maybe thirty. There’s some things I want to get, just in case.”

“Thanks, Sam, Tucker.”

“You should know by now,” said Tucker, “you don’t even have to ask with us.”

“Yeah, dummy, we’ve got your back. Be there soon as I can.”

Danny hung up and gave Jazz another shaky smile. “They’re on their way. Tucker will be here in ten, Sam might take a bit longer because she wants to grab some things.”

Jazz nodded. “Good. I’m going to start putting together your go-bag. Is your backpack in your room?”

Danny nodded and Jazz ran up the stairs. He followed her at a walk, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating hard in his chest or the way his knees felt like they were going to give out with every step. His parents loved him, they did.

It was going to be fine. He’d tell them, they’d hug him, and he’d go get Jason and come home.

When he got to his room, Jazz had dumped all his school books and binders and papers out of his backpack and was raiding the first aid kit under his bed to transfer as much of it as she could into the bag.

“There you are, get two large water bottles and all the breakfast bars from the pantry. And whatever other food you can find that is both high-calorie and easy to pack.”

He turned and walked back downstairs. Nothing felt real, he almost felt numb and he couldn’t muster up the urgency Jazz had as he sifted through the pantry and grabbed the water bottles.

That was how Tucker found him, staring at the pantry with a stack of snacks on the counter next to him.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

Danny just shrugged and pulled out a box of cereal. He tasted some; it was stale. He put it back.

Tucker pulled him into a hug. “Hey, there, Danny. It’s going to be okay. Frostbite will be able to help Jason, and we’ll be by your side as you talk to your parents.”

Danny hugged Tucker back, trying to just keep his breath steady and his hands from shaking. “Jazz is upstairs. We should go.”

“I’ll help you carry everything. And I’ve got some jerky to add to the pile, meat is the most important food group, after all!”

That finally caught his attention and he pulled away with a small smile. “I won’t need it, you know. Jazz is just being paranoid.”

Tucker frowned, but didn’t contradict him. “Then let’s go make her feel better.”

“Okay.”

“Also!” exclaimed Tucker. “I’ve got a new phone for you. This one uses ectoplasm to connect to my devices and from there, can connect to anyone else. It should work even in the Realms.”

That finally broke through some of the numbness surrounding Danny. He cracked a small, but sincere, smile. “You’ll have to explain to me how you managed that.”

Tucker laughed and immediately launched into his explanation as they brought the food back upstairs to join Jazz.

Jazz gave them a tight smile when they walked in. “Hey, Tucker. What did you get, Danny?”

“Like you said, all the protein and breakfast bars. Tuck’s got some jerky he can add to the pile.” And last, Danny dropped the box of cosmic brownies. “And I grabbed these, too. No one else will eat them.”

Jazz stared at the brownies for a long time, and Danny thought she was going to scold him for grabbing something frivolous. But she shook her head and packed them without comment. “Thanks, Tucker,” she said when she grabbed the bag of jerky next.

“Tucker made me a phone,” said Danny. “One that should work, even in the Realms. He was just telling me about it.”

This time, Jazz’s smile was much more genuine. “Really? How’s that work?”

“So, as I was telling Danny, the phone is connected to my computer through ectoplasm. It took a long time to figure out how to do it, but they will always be connected to each other now. Then, through my computer, it can connect to other computers or even the phone network. Gives it access to the internet and cell towers and your service will be as good as mine.”

Jazz shook her head. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Tucker blushed. “Uh, well. It’s really not a big deal.”

Jazz held up a hand. “No, it is a big deal. Thank you.”

Danny looked around his room, cataloging all his belongings. His skateboard leaned against the wall next to his bed. The model rockets on his bookshelf. Then his eyes landed on his old, beat-up copy of Canterbury Tales. He walked over as Jazz and Tucker continued to talk and took down the book.

He flipped it open and was faced with the comments Jason and he’d written in the margins. Jason, cheering on the Wife of Bath or scoffing at the Knight. Jason, using modern slang to improve the old-fashioned translation. Jason, doodling a little star when Danny finally got something on his own.

He blinked and a tear tracked down his face, then another. He wiped at his cheeks and closed the book. “Jazz,” he said as he sat next to them on the floor, “pack this, too.”

“Danny…” she started as she saw the book. But then she took in his expression and she sighed. “Of course. I managed to get two outfit changes in your bag, four pairs of boxers. A good amount of medical supplies. And all the food you brought up. We’ll get the book in there, too. Anything else you’ll need?”

Downstairs, the front door slammed and all three of them tensed.

“Just me!” shouted Sam, followed by the sound of her combat boots echoing on the stairs.

Jazz let out a relieved laugh and the rest of them relaxed.

“I got what I wanted to give you!” said Sam as she pushed her way into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She tossed a wallet to Jazz who opened it and gasped.

“Sam, this is too much!”

Sam shrugged. “I’ve been saving it up. My parents won’t even notice, just had to stop by an ATM on the way here.” She flopped onto the ground and wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “So how are we gonna do this?”

-----

Let me know what you think!

I finally made a Subscription Post for this fic. So I'll tag one last time. Sorry if you requested to be tagged for an update 11 months ago and don't want them anymore. If you do still want notifications when I update, please check out the linked subscription post.

Tag List

@britcision, @echoednonny, @adorablechaos, @letoasai, @saphjack, @emergentpanda-blog, @jaybirdh, @i-always-say-yea, @666deaddash999, @simplykaren, @redrobinhoodrat, @apointlessbox, @joaniejustwokeup, @spidey29phangirl, @currant-owo, @sailor-goddess, @mynameiswilliamblake, @job-ross-the-second, @famdombrainrot, @aph-mable, @darkstarsapocalypse, @maomaocopycat, @lordfirecat2004, @melicmusicmagic, @kisatamao, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @iconicanemone, @bianca-hooks123, @griffinthing, @idkmrpianoman, @the-c41n-instinct, @anxietyewizardsstuff, @michikoy-yuki, @plotwholls, @isnt-that-grape, @devilbunny612, @amyheart19, @spam-extemporal, @scarletsaphire

#dpxdc #dead on main #frostbite is doing his best #but they cannot figure out what happened to jason #danny finally gets the push he needs to tell his parents his secret #how will it turn out?#jazz sam and tucker are hoping for the best #preparing for the worst #they are with danny 100%#ride and die #carry your heart #wolf writes

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greenleaf4stuff · 2 months ago

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In Convenience - Chapter 1, part 1

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience" and "In Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage to marriage of love AU, post story chapter 1, part 1. Despite Sauron’s defeat, remnants and memories of his presence still linger. Celebrimbor finds himself conflicted when the matter of wedding rings comes to his attention.

Hehe, look who’s back – that’s right, it’s me! With a post-story snippet! Can’t believe I am managing to do *that* as well. Truly, this little 'verse continues to be a welcome anomaly in my existence as a fanfic writer. Not complaining in the least though! This is a little bit angsty but it has a healthy helping of fluff and comfort mixed in I think. The boys have won, but that doesn’t mean its all sunshine and rainbows along the way. Thankfully, them being together means it will only get easier as time goes on. (Also yes, the title for the post-story bits collection is a play on 'inconvenience'. I think it’s funny. :P) Enjoy!

"Why aren’t you wearing a ring?"

The question was so wholly unexpected that it startled Celebrimbor from his work. He’d been distracted, again, trying to clean up the forge tower. Almost every part of it had been turned into a mess when Adar, Gil-Galad, Elrond, Galadriel and their guards made to attack Sauron there, likely even before then.

Clearing it of the bodies of the fallen had occured without Celebrimbor present. He suspected that it was done for his benefit, since some of his assistants had been among them. He’d visited the dead in the aftermath, when they’d been prepared for proper burials by elven or uruk standards. He shuddered to even think about it – despite the elation of having prevailed over Morgoth’s shadow, there were still remnants of his presence everywhere.

This question, too, exposed one such remnant.

Celebrimbor turned to the elf who’d asked him the question; Nethiel, if he remembered her name correctly. Not yet an assistant, but an apprentice, quite young and looking at him with big, round eyes. She hadn’t been an apprentice yet when the Deceiver had resided in the city, had in fact only joined the others in Celebrimbor’s employ a few weeks ago. The smith found himself grateful for it.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"A wedding band," she clarified, and – seemingly interpreting his silence for confusion, not dismay – continued. "You are married to the leader of the o- uruk, are you not? So why aren’t you wearing a ring?"

Celebrimbor had always prided himself on the fact that his people didn’t have to fear speaking their mind in his presence. He wanted to be a leader who listened to his people and their concerns, their worries, their questions. Especially so after what had almost happened to Eregion.

And yet, in that very moment, he treacherously wished the apprentice didn’t quite find herself so comfortable asking these things.

She couldn’t know how complicated his emotions on the matter were. How guilt, love, and self-loathing converged whenever he remembered that indeed, neither he nor Adar wore a sign of their marriage, despite the pride he felt towards their union and what it represented – for their people and them personally.

If only it could have been anything but rings.

He sighed and turned to Nethiel. As he looked up, he saw Mirdania throw him a concerned glance as she took off her gloves and moved over towards him.

She, too, had been reluctant to return to the forge tower. Undoutably, she also held painful memories of this place, although she hadn’t spoken of them to him yet. But then again, neither had he, at least not in full.

Elrond had assured him that these things needed time. In theory – and from prior experience –, he knew this to be true. That didn’t make it any less painful in the current moment.

Not just for himself; Mirdania had been one of his brightest, most enthusiastic and gifted assistants. Now, her usually cheery outlook had been dampened in such a way that she sometimes startled at loud voices and generally shared less of herself with others.

Celebrimbor could only hope that she had not lost her passion for forge work as well. It was certainly something he, in part, still struggled with.

Though this was not solely due to one thing, it was a combination of circumstances. The tower, which held bad memories. Smithing, which he had only partially regained for himself in Adar’s camp, though it came easier to him whenever he helped Gurlak in her forge for example.

Making rings, specifically, was something he found almost impossible to even consider at the moment.

Why couldn’t it be anything but rings?

He was saved from having to answer when Mirdania appeared at their side. She easily touched the apprentice’s shoulder, but was cautious as she reached out a hand to Celebrimbor as well, expression unusually guarded. Only when the Lord of Eregion gave her a fond smile did she brighten a little and touch his arm.

"How about you take a little break?" she said, adressing Celebrimbor as much as Nethiel. "We have all been working on cleaning up this place the whole morning. Maybe we should go outside and get some fresh air."

By the apprentice’s confused expression, the dainty elven woman was rather insistent on steering the younger one away, but Nethiel ultimately let herself be guided without a protest. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked, looking between the two older elves.

Celebrimbor softened, and shook his head at her. "No, not at all. It’s just as Mirdania said – I find myself a little fatigued, that is all." He motioned for them to walk ahead. "Go outside, I’ll be along shortly."

It said a lot about the apprentice that she nodded in response with a rather contrite expression on her face. She still tried to offer an apology, which Mirdania was quick to dispel with a smile and by deftly changing the topic. The assistant threw Celebrimbor a questioning look over her shoulder – asking, without words, whether he would be okay.

His smile widened, touched by her concern. The smith nodded and slightly jerked his head to shoo her outside. Mirdania, too, could use a break after all.

She nodded, quickly, and the two elven women walked out of the forge together.

With a start, Celebrimbor realized the others who had helped with the cleanup had also left. Whenever that had happened, he had no idea.

It left the elf standing the middle of the messy room. It was a bit demoralizing, perhaps, that he and the others had already done so much work and yet, the smithy still looked as if a maiar had exploded in the middle of it. Literally.

He remembered how one of his builders had mentioned that the forge part of the tower would either need extensive repairs...or to be taken down and rebuilt from the ground up.

Neither option seemed particularly appealing to the smith.

With a deep sigh, he looked up, only to find his husband emerging from the stairs.

It was still a marvel to Celebrimbor how the other’s presence made warmth and the feeling of safety spread through him. How his mood lifted whenever he laid eyes upon the other. The sheer strength of his happiness knowing that this one was his.

It was as if a dark cloud had been cleared from the elf’s thoughts, and he smiled, exhaustedly but brightly, as Adar stroke towards him.

The other also wore a smile on his face. Smaller than Celebrimbor’s, but Adar was typically more subdued in how he expressed himself. To the smith, the smirk was the same as the other giving him a wide, elated smile.

Adar looked over the interior of the smithy as he went, and then quirked up an eyebrow at Celebrimbor. "Perhaps my uruk should come up here and help you after all," despite the flippant manner in which he said it, the uruk’s tone soon became more serious. "Looks like things are coming along more slowly than anticipated."

The elf let his shoulders sink as he looked around. His smile grew smaller, but at least it did not completely disappear. The two of them had always been honest with one another, and while he wished to spare Adar his own self-pity, he did not think it fair to openly lie about his own feelings either. Adar would be quick to recognize them anyways, perceptive as he was.

It was one of the things Celebrimbor cherished about him.

"It’s...a struggle. In more ways than one," he turned to Adar. "The physical work and trying to organize what is left of my notes is taking a lot of time and effort. And that is without considering the prospect that working on the structure itself might be a fool’s errand."

"But that is not all of it," the uruk deduced. Celebrimbor looked at him and nodded, his eyes quickly drifting away again. His smile finally left his face completely, even as Adar stepped close to him.

"No, it is not," the smith admitted, and gladly let his husband hold onto his elbow, a silent, gentle comfort. He returned it with a grip of his own. It brought him back to the time when Adar had killed that hill troll, Damrod, in his camp to protect Celebrimbor.

He was glad for Adar’s strength, his quiet presence. Not just in battle, but in situations like these. The uruk’s history with Sauron had hardened him in many ways, but also made him uniquely suited to understand Celebrimbor’s complicated feelings.

He looked at the uruk, and found only compassion in the other’s eyes. It made it easier for Celebrimbor to be honest, in a way he hadn’t yet been able to be towards his assistants, or even with his friends.

"I’d hoped working on cleaning this place up might bring me some solace, but instead I find myself pondering too many painful memories. And seeing Mirdania and the others similarly afflicted...it’s difficult, at times."

Nevermind all the other things that occupied his mind.

His words sprung forth without his conscious decision and before he could stop them. Adar tended to have that effect on him, inspiring honesty and trust where Celebrimbor would otherwise have been more hesitant. "One of the new apprentices asked me why I didn’t wear a wedding ring, today."

Celebrimbor felt himself grow still at his own words. He hadn’t anticipated the question would bother him that much. Nor had he planned to let Adar know about it, either.

The Lord Father of the uruk had enough to deal with as it was – some of his children were planning on packing up the camp and moving back to Mordor, meaning he was involved in organisational matters most of the day. The rest, who planned on remaining for the ongoing peace talks, needed to be taken care of in terms of food, drink and shelter from the sunlight.

And then there were the peace talks itself, which had overall gone rather well in the aftermath of a shared victory, but were time-consuming and often frustrating with how detailed everything had to be in both word and writing.

Also, there had been some talk of a big celebration as well. Not just of the peace itself, though that seemed to be the main reason. But no, people wanted a proper celebration of the marriage. Since, according to all Celebrimbor had heard, it was considered the foundation of not just the victory over Sauron, but the peace that would surely now come for the elves, the uruk, and hopefully soon Middle-earth as a whole.

So no, something as simple as wedding rings shouldn’t be a concern of Adar’s right now, not when he had so many, and so many more important matters to consider.

Somewhat annoyed at himself, Celebrimbor looked at Adar again. The other had raised his eyebrows and was watching his husband as if trying to figure something out, before understanding dawned on his face.

"You think you should be the one to make them."

Celebrimbor truly did cherish Adar’s perceptiveness, which often worked to the point that the other could glean things from the smith’s mind that he himself hadn’t been quite able to put into words.

Strangely, it was nothing like what Sauron had tried to do. When the fallen maiar had rummaged through Celebrimbor’s mind, it had always been a means to an end.

When Adar spoke aloud what the smith himself did not even dare to think yet, it was a sign of understanding. Of how much he cared, despite how stoic and emotionless he first appeared to others.

The elf nodded, and tipped his head forward. Adar mirrored the movement until their foreheads touched, and Celebrimbor closed his eyes when he felt Adar grab onto his other arm as well.

He felt steadied, understood, kept safe. In this little space, he knew he needn’t fear his own weakness. It was a relief.

"I suppose I do," he admitted, voice quiet. "I am a smith, and I have made rings before. I should be able to do so again, should I not? To overcome what I last made in this forge? To honor us?"

Adar hummed and remained quiet for a moment as the two of them breathed in each other’s air. It was strangely calming to Celebrimbor’s unsettled mind.

"I do not require a trinket to represent, or show, the worth of our marriage. I have not required it when we first joined as potential allies, and I do not need it now that we are joined in love."

Celebrimbor opened his eyes and locked them with Adar’s. The other was so utterly steadfast as he spoke, his words like absolute truths against the questions and worries the smith found himself pondering.

"It is an Eldar custom, not one of the uruk. Do not strain yourself on my behalf, or ours. We are bound by more than shiny metal. And you are defined by more than your last work in this forge – after all, another fine work of yours helped us achieve victory."

Celebrimbor smiled at Adar’s words. Indeed, the sword he had reforged out of Morgoth’s crown had been made after the rings for the dwarves and his attempts to fashion the rings for men. Its pieces still laid where Sauron had been impaled onto it in fact, and the smith let his gaze wander in that direction.

He took a shaky breath and lightly nodded, careful not to dislodge where their foreheads were touching. "You’re right. I know you are right."

Another breath. This one already came out easier. "It’s a struggle to remember sometimes. What you said – that healing from him will take time and that I will face challenges along the way. And that we can forge our own path, together. Thank you for reminding me."

Adar gently squeezed his arms and brought Celebrimbor closer, before he rubbed their noses together. The motion made the elf grin and return the gesture.

The uruk, too, was smiling when he pulled back and cupped the smith’s cheek. "Of course. Come, let us follow your assistant’s example. I think it would do you well to leave these rooms for a while."

The smith nodded, and felt easier as Adar lead him along.

...And yet, even as he felt that his husband’s words were true, as he tried to turn his thoughts away, he couldn’t quite put the idea of the wedding rings out of his mind.

Like his ambitions to surpass his grandfather’s legacy, the idea to overcome Sauron lingered in the back of his skull.

Perhaps, he might surprise himself and his husband yet?

#the trials and tribulations of Celebrimbor - wedding ring edition #behold my questionable elf naming skills (once more) - nethiel (the young apprentice) translates to 'young maid'. XD #also technically I believe these are still snippets but y'know. I am going to call them chapters now.#of convenience #adar #adar trop #adar the rings of power #celebrimbor #adar x celebrimbor #silverscars #trop #the rings of power #marriage of convenience trope #political marriage trope #fanfic #my fanfic #my trop fanfic #mine

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i-am-still-bb · 1 month ago

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Fast Car - December 2009 - The Breaking

A/N: I have an multi-chapter outline that will cover the story from November 2009 (the boys' senior year very shortly after Fili discovers the physical abuse) through to December 2010 or so. It will absorb any snippets/ficlets/etc. that I have written that occur during this time frame.

This is not going to be a nice story. I mean... if you've been following along you know how this ends and we have to get from October 2009 to the end. I will put in fluff, support, and connection.

To write the "After" I really need to know how and why the Before becomes the Before so that I can bring them back together in a realistic and sensitive way.

This is just a part of that first chapter. I am plugging away on. I've done a lot, if not all of the research.

Warnings: mental health, emotional abuse, interpersonal conflict between our beloved boys

Fili’s normally contagious grin was wide when they were released from homeroom. He stretched luxuriously and leaned backwards over the top of the blue plastic chair to look at Kili who sat behind him in nearly every class that they had together.

Kili busied himself with shoving his notebook back in his backpack and then straightening the backpack’s chaotic contents. That classroom was loud as everyone bustled with the energy of pre-Christmas and the start of winter break season.

“What’s up?” Fili asked, sitting up and turning to look at Kili more fully. “You’ve been a little weird all day.”

“Have not.”

“Kili…”

Kili was saved from having to answer because Emily bounced up and started talking about something or other. Kili did not really listen. He didn’t want to go home, but being here… wasn’t great either. He just wanted to be alone where no one could see him. He just wanted… He wanted to be anywhere but here. He wanted to be miles away. Away from all of this. He wanted…

He felt the bubble of loudness rise in his chest again, pushing to the surface, like it had been doing since Sunday. The sounds of the classroom faded away. He didn’t even really notice as his classmates trooped past their way past him on their way out of the building to two weeks of freedom. He pinched the soft skin on the underside of his wrist. His body jolted in response to the pain. But the panic stopped rising. He tightened his grip, the panic and thoughts receding as the pain increased. He stayed like that, only releasing his fingers when he felt like he wasn’t about to explode in some sort of way. The voice, his father’s voice that had been at the center of that loudness fell away abruptly.

Kili took a breath, as deep as his tense body would allow.

“Kili?

“What?” Kili looked up. Fili was standing at the front of the row of desks with a furrow between his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

“Yeah. I just couldn’t find my phone for a minute there,” Kili lied. He reached into the side pocket of his bag and pulled out the phone, as evidence.

“Okay. Do you need anything from your locker or are you good?”

“I have everything.” Kili stands and slings his backpack over one shoulder.

“Cool.” They walked side by side down the halls that were getting steadily emptier. “I forget, do you have work today?”

Kili shook his head. “No. I will work all day tomorrow though.”

“On a Saturday?” Fili’s voice was filled with disgust.

Kili shrugged half-heartedly.

“Want to come over today then?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

“Kili…” Fili stopped walking and grabbed Kili’s arm to stop him too. He looked down the hall to see if they’d be overheard. “If your dad is—”

“No!” Kili pulled his arm from Fili’s hand.

—

Dave was sitting at the kitchen table under the yellow light bulb in its dusty shade. Some papers were spread in front of him, a football game on the television (visible from where Dave was sitting), volume turned up to be heard in the dining room, and a half empty green bottle at his hand.

Kili looked down at the paper in his hand and swallowed. He felt like he had fallen down and had the air knocked out of him.

“What do you want,” Dave said without looking up.

Kili swallowed.

“I…” his voice trailed off. He had practiced this in the mirror on the back of his bedroom door. He had tried rehearsing his father’s reactions… but now he had nothing.

“Well?”

Kili looked past the table into the kitchen where, when he was little, his mother would already be prepping stuff for Thanksgiving. The only nod towards the holiday now was the store-bought pumpkin pie and canned whipped cream that were on the top shelf of the fridge. They had been invited over to one of his dad’s co-worker’s houses for the holiday.

“If you’re just going to stand there then you can go away.”

Kili pulled himself back. And steeled himself. College. Getting out. That’s what this was about.

“I’ve been filling out college applications.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I was doing some research about paying—”

“Good. Because if I have to pay then you’re not going.”

Kili’s fingers tightened on the paper he’d printed out. The sting of tears made him want to scream. Tears would just make this whole thing worse. He dug a fingernail into the pad of another finger, the sting of physical pain pulling him away from the tears and helplessness.

“I’m applying for scholarships at the schools and stuff. And from other places too. I just wrote an essay about why I want to study biology and what I want to do with that degree and where I see myself in 10 years…” He could see his dad not paying attention. “And I’m saving the money from my job.”

Dave grunted.

“There’s also this thing called FAFSA. You fill it out and they send information to the schools and the schools use that to decide if you need financial aid and how much. And sometimes the government gives you some as well.”

“Loans? You know how I feel about those.”

“No,” Kili said, too quickly. “A lot of them are just scholarships or grants. You get the money and never have to pay it back. If the scholarships and grants don’t cover it all then they offer loans.”

“What sort of information does the FAP-thing need?”

Kili then held out the sheet of computer printer paper. It was a little crumpled on the edges from his nervous fingers. “Tax stuff. It has to be done every year.”

“Every year?”

“Yeah,” Kili said quietly. He felt the little hope he’d had for compliance slipping a bit.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Okay.” Kili turned to leave.

“Actually,” the word was punctuated by the glass bottle being set back down.

Kili turned back around. His hand gripping the door frame.

“I’ll fill out whatever little fucking boxes they ask me to, IF—”

Kili’s stomach sank. He stared at his hand clutching the dark wooden trim. His knuckles were white. Everything narrowed to just that room. Everything hung on Dave’s next words.

“I’ll sign IF you stop spending so much time with that _______ Fili.”

Kili would rather have been slapped. He would rather his father punch him, shove him, beat him, anything but that.

“You can go.”

Kili fled to his room on numb feet.

—

“My dad hasn’t done anything!” Kili snapped. “I’ve been busy. And I have work to do.”

“I know you, Kili. Something’s up.”

“Screw you, Fili,” Kili burst. Anything to push Fili away, to keep him safe, to keep them safe, to keep his Dream safe. “I’m fine! Nothing’s wrong!”

Fili’s eyes were sad. “I’ll be here when you want to talk.”

Snapping, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I’ll text you later,” Fili said. “Good luck with the work you have to do.”

TBC - I already have more of this written; its not not complete in terms of scenes. There are brackets.

Taglist: Everything: @silvermoon-scrolls @metztliluaa-blog @i-am-pinkie @dubhlachen

#bb writes #fili/kili #fast car au #dead batteries au

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 4 months ago

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Finally it’s the stories where Magic is watching season 8 and can tell that we’re gonna get canon Buddie and has decided to get involved to speed things along! Which is honestly so valid of Magic I would do that too if I could

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️ (It makes me so happy that every story with a bucktommy breakup is now just realigning with canon! We love BtBones! And we love this fic! I still have no real clue what’s happening and it’s delightful!! Loving the ride!)

🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️ (IM. SO. NORMAL.) (No I’m not but that’s okay! Is this another “buddie sees snippets of their future” type story and that future includes a Nico? I love your other ones like that and I already love this one too!!)

I hope you have a nice time in Jamaica Cal! And I hope you enjoy the continued journey of Getting Eddie Out and getting Buck off the hamster wheel and the return of Brad and HotShots! Wow I really love this show right now (and always) and I’m so glad to share it with lovely people like you!

- PCA <3

HELL YEAH TO THIS THEME TOO.

And thank you! Jamaica was awesome. Very affirming career wise. And YES I am loving it!

78 for ⚖️ (THANKS! You are going to find out a bit more of what is happening here.)

---

She sighs. “My name is Nemesis.”

“Oh,” Buck replies, concealing a grimace. Parents were edgy then? Then Buck remembers the scales on his arm. His mind flashes to an illustrated mythology book that Chris once showed him. “Or… Wait a minute. You’re not saying you’re that…”

She nods. “The very same.”

Buck’s shoulders drop. “Okay. That’s… That’s not real.”

“Oh? It’s not?” She raises her eyebrows, casually amused. “You’ve seen yourself this week how very real I am.”

Buck swallows. He can’t deny that.

“What did you do to me?” Buck asks. “And how can I get my life back?”

“Oh, you can’t. Sweet thing. You just can’t. It’s gone.”

“Gone?” Buck echoes.

She nods. “I’ll break this down really simply. I haven’t had a proper representative over in these parts for… Well, since 1911.”

1911.

Why does Buck know…

Oh.

“That’s the year Billy Boils died,” Buck says.

She nods. “Mmm. Sad time. Even sadder? How long it has taken to find a replacement.”

Buck feels queasy. “Me? I’m the replacement?”

“No one else that came in contact with the body was quite right,” she says. “Too power hungry. Too selfish. Too weak. You, though? You’re just right.”

“I knew I was cursed,” Buck hisses.

“Cursed?” She protests. “No, it’s a gift! How many times do I have to say that?”

“Maybe I’m too stupid for it, then,” Buck says. “Should probably revoke it.”

“The only revocation is death, Evan Buckley,” Nemesis snaps.

He pales. Fuck.

“I almost did die,” he reminds her. “How is that a gift?”

“Oh, well that’s all part of it,” she shrugs.

“All part of it?” He demands. “I got so sick they told my family I was on death’s door. That was you?”

She nods. “It was.”

“I was covered in boils!”

She nods again.

“You dislocated my shoulder!”

This gives her pause. “I did what?”

“Uh… When my shoulder dislocated just like… Just like I accidentally did to Billy.”

She snorts. “That was all you.”

---

144 or 1k for 🌤️ (THANK YOU! It's a trope I love to write and I missed Nico!)

---

Also that Eddie’s not far off. But still. Eddie plans on holding this over his head.

But that also means… Chris is twenty. Twenty.

He opens his messaging app and searches for Christopher’s name. He’s right at the top. According to his phone, they talked the day before. He scrolls up without really reading. They talk a lot. That’s a good sign. Better than their current state of affairs.

Eddie takes a deep breath and hits the call button.

It rings a few times. Enough that Eddie starts to get nervous Chris won’t pick up.

But he does.

“Dad?” An adult male voice answers groggily.

Eddie finds himself smiling and shaking a little, all at the same time.

“H-hey, Chris. Hi.”

“Is everything okay?” Chris sounds a bit alarmed.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course. I was just hoping to talk.”

“At seven in the morning on a Saturday?”

Oh. Whoops.

“I mean, I expect this from Buck, but I thought you were reasonable.”

“Oh, wow. Sorry. I didn’t realize the time.”

“Nico wake you up stupid early?”

“Something like that… Hey, uh… Speaking of Nico. Uh, your brother.”

“You’re being weird. He okay?”

“Yeah. He’s great,” Eddie guesses. He thinks so anyway. “But he wants to put up the Christmas tree.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m coming over Monday night, right?”

Monday night. That’s why Nico was asking how many days. Okay, that’s not so long to tell him. But… But what if Eddie and Buck are back to their proper timeline by Monday night? Which would be ideal. Eddie should get back to his proper life. Ideally. But… But how can he miss this chance either? To see Chris, twenty years-old, and not… Gone from his life? A Chris nearby and in frequent contact? Or, at least Eddie assumes he’s nearby. If he can just pop over for Christmas tree decorating.

“Yeah, Monday. We can do that. Uh, you busy today, though?”

Eddie has no idea what he does or where he lives or what’s going on in his life. This might be an absurd ask.

“Uh… I was going to do some schoolwork, but I guess I could postpone it.”

Normally, Eddie would say no. Don’t put off schoolwork for him. School comes first. Whatever school he’s in these days. But… But Eddie really needs to see him. He hasn’t seen Christopher in months, and he’ll take him at whatever age he can get.

“Is that… Is that okay?” Eddie asks. “I mean… There’s sort of an adorable kid really hoping it is.”

Chris chuckles. “Yeah, that’s okay. You good to pick me up?”

Eddie exhales, relieved. “Yes! Just tell me a time that works.”

They agree upon a time and end the call. Eddie is so happy he feels like he’s floating. It only takes him a minute to realize he has no idea where Chris lives.

🌤️

Buck is pretty excited to hear that Chris is coming over. Less excited to learn both their ages. Because what? That’s an insane amount of time to miss. That means Jee-Yun is ten. Jee-Yun! That means… Well, is Bobby still working at the 118? Are Buck and Eddie still working at the 118? There’s a lot to catch up on. A lot Buck feels uncomfortable to have missed.

Buck is less excited when - through helping Eddie search his Google Maps history to find what must be Christopher’s apartment - he realizes Eddie will be collecting Chris by himself. Meaning, Buck will be staying home with Nico. Alone. And, yeah. It sounds lame. He’s sort of afraid of his future son. If this is the real future. Which, once again, is somewhat dubious because of the whole Eddie marrying him part.

It’s not that he’s afraid of Nico specifically. The kid is adorable and pretty sweet. Buck gets the sense he’s a bit more hyper than the kids he’s used to. A bit less able to sit still. Always got something to do or say. He’s sort of busy. But… Well, that’s just kind of par for the course if he is Buck’s. So no concern there. He likes Nico. The problem is that he doesn’t actually think he wants to know him.

It seems cruel, right? Like fate or the universe or whoever is playing a very sick joke on him. One day he’s broken up with by someone who pretty much changed his life. The next, he’s being shown some sort of dream future he won’t ever actually get to experience. Nico isn’t actually going to be his. So the idea of getting to know him sort of hurts like a bitch.

“You’ll be okay,” Eddie whispers, seeing the hesitation on his face before he leaves the house. “You’re great with kids. You know that.”

It’s been about an hour since his call with Chris. They’ve finished eating. They’ve all gotten dressed. Buck has discovered Nico has an extensive collection of firefighter shirts, whether LAFD in origin or otherwise. He insists on wearing one today.

“I…” Buck sighs. “I know that. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He doesn’t know how to explain this to Eddie. That he doesn’t want to look too hard at this beautiful fantasy life. It’ll come too close to admitting he thinks he would want exactly this. Exactly something that Eddie can’t and shouldn’t have to offer him. That’s an unfair expectation. Learn how to be queer because I really like playing house with you. Yeah, no. It’s there or it’s not, right?

“I’ll just be gone for a bit,” Eddie says. “Then we’ll have Chris as a buffer anyway.”

“You don’t think Chris will figure us out?” Buck asks.

Eddie looks skeptical. “Why would anyone, in a million years, ever guess this?”

Well, because not everyone is a raging cynic. But, Chris is twenty. Maybe he’s grown into his father’s brand of in-the-box thinking when it comes to the way the world works.

#daisies and briars writes #an angry blade fic #promising light fic

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arom-antix · 3 months ago

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Hello. Granted every anon here has said this but I’m going to assume I’m a coward? Or that I’m maybe a little concerned about people knowing my identity. I’ve been in the fandom for a long time, I’ve known a lot of the people here and this could stir more trouble than this person deserves.

Addressing the elephant in the room and acknowledging my part in the matter, I do feel complicit a little. It’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened: someone being bullied, and nothing being done - then the people who are the real victims are fed up with the fandom and leave. This is such a shame because in some cases were people who indeed contributed with great content. I’ve also seen cases of friends and people I still follow on social media that now state “I don’t have any fond memories of Yuri!!! on Ice, thanks to the fandom and the people in it.” Again in most of those cases were people making incredible art, writing and creating headcanon metas, etc. Surely it’s more the number of people who just gradually moved on, but this percentage of people who were pushed back, too, is real.

After saying this and first saying it from a personal perspective and taking responsibility, here’s the deal:

We're all complicit in feeding this person's behavior.

I get it. In a way, there is no shame in accepting we all can relate a little to the need to protect the underdog. To support people who most need it. And if you are an artist or creator here or in your personal/real life, you know how important it is to have support and have an audience showing up. But by now it was, for me at least and perhaps for some of the other anons and users who had spoken up, a methodical pattern for this person to execute. And I think I started to be aware of this person in 2022, if I can remember correctly, it was maybe by October of that year when I started reading their novelization of the anime, so I have a broad analysis by this point.

Even though now I’m like an ancient dormant statue, by then I was very active here on Tumblr and also twitter still. At that time, on twitter the community was so active and this person seemed to have a conflict with how other people enjoyed it and so understandably wanted more content that MAPPA themselves (and the other production companies involved) had promised. There was the account of YOINation that advocated for MAPPA to give visibility to the fans about the status of the movie -which I think it’s commendable- but this person always complained about how people hated the studio or pushed them. It went on until this person (I’m going to call her TGWRLAS) blocked the fan account to because of this, with no virtual explanation, and I know the people behind the account and they told me about TGWRLAS strange behavior.

And as time passed last year when Ice Ado was cancelled this discourse got worse. Yes, yes I get it…Yuri!!! On Ice was more than just a movie. But people can have their feelings about it when they have been waiting so long for stuff, right? People can cling to other media created by fans and say things like “Is this going to be like the movie” or “This is incredible! FUCK MAPPA for taking the movie away from us!” — however for TGWRLAS this was a major offense. Once they published a snippet of a young Viktor story they were working on (which is a whole different topic, because being in the shadows I see a lot of things and one is that a regular whining is that “there would be a lot of stories like this by the time she finished working on it” but to be honest there was only one and it was by the person who sent you the first ask and that was falsely accused last week. How curious, right?) and someone commented something along the lines of that “FUCK YOU MAPPA for taking it away from us” and what did TGWRLAS did? Oh yes, whined about how she didn’t feel safe of posting snippets because these haters will link it to the movie. My way of seeing it: You have effectively reduced your audience. That’s why people don’t want to interact with you.

The next topic I wanted to discuss: Disengenous.

I did mention that I cross-platform in the fandom. And by doing that I see people in both of them, and for the most part when you have a character limit the way you write things may vary. But with TGWRLAS it’s another level…her tone is a little different depending the platform. The condescending, pretentious tone can be considered consistent, but in here is like there is a layer of honeycombed sweetness that feels fake. Here TGWRLAS always refers to twitter/X like a “Hellsite” and toxic. And also read a lot of times how she blamed the twitter algorithm for her lack of better engagement, which may be true, but also if you are the toxic hater of your own target audience then perhaps it’s not all to blame the algorithm. And it’s so curious, but on twitter, TGWRLAS had more of this toxicity combined with the victim complex in her words (yes, the one she complained about? That one) while in here it was more towards catering sympathy for the victim.

And don’t know about what you all think, but that’s disingenuous. And people notice.

I noticed, and I noticed the pattern. So I stopped reading her sometime last year, but the case was so curious to me so I kept looking at it because whenever TGWRLAS whined about their engagement, of their writing not being fun enough, of not having the skills as other writers to keep people reading their stories…there was a line of people reassuring, throwing flowers, picking her up after TGWRLAS purposefully threw herself on the ground. Most of the time it was the same people, but again…so curiously funny and DISINGENUOUS. For me it is as if she just wants to have little fans around, and people just keep biting at this patterns. A thing that I've also noticed is how TGWRLAS ask for support of her work, but...I really haven't seen her supporting other YoI fanfiction writers. Has anyone got any comment from her on your works? Any other thing that she asks from you all? Asking because I honestly don't know, but I bet I'll be met with silence. Perhaps it's not necessary, idk. Maybe it's not a rule that authors must interact with each other. However it does seem kinda weird. At the very least try to give support. Going through her social media she never mentions other works besides one from banana fish. Combined with other things cited by other anons, I dunno...feels kind of selfish. For real seems like she only wants her fan work to be the most important, without 'weird takes' and other preachy bullshit, and have massive support but it's not willing to do the same. You want to know what I've indeed seen? TGWRLAS comments towards other more 'popular authors' and their of having 'more engagement'. Again: DISINGENUOUS.

However, there’s more. Some undisclosed sources that ask me to remain like this, mentioned that it may not be the first time TGWRLAS gets in a similar situation this in the fandom. Again, I’m an ancient dormant statue, and something I have zero knowledge is Discord, but this person mentioned they had seen them in a Discord thing. There was an issue with people there, the admins of the community didn’t liked her tone and were very open about it and TGWRLAS did what she always does and play the victim. The constant is that this is not the first time. There is no recollection of this because as my source stated, this happened and according to my source TGWRLAS went to the extreme of doing new social media pages and of course people there noticed. My best guess is that the situation was similar and people called her about her behavior, but whatever. I wasn’t there, but I can share what was shared with me.

For the people feeling bad about the alleged “dogpiling” I ask you: Do you think that this number of anons would come forward if TGWRLAS was as innocent to not deserve being called out? Do you think it’s fair to let people remain scared of speaking up in a space where only freedom of sharing should be garnered? Do you think it’s okay for people to be afraid of knowing TGWRLAS will whine about stuff, gaslit them and make them feel like is their fault? Do you think this is something we as part of the fandom would want?

I link this questions to what happened on bluesky last week (because I get her posts on the “as similar to the people I follow” tab) I can say this: we’re all complicit of this behavior. It was bullying, plain and simple. And no one said a thing. People were even celebrating and giving their likes at TGWRLAS towards this made up aggression that in reality had only been that someone openly disagreed with her beloved, precious and self-inserted headcanon. These people that I had been following for a lot of time, in some cases, joined hands towards this acephobe which they had no prove of actually did commit these crimes and ''marginalized'' the ace community. This has happened time to time here on Tumblr too, I've seen some great YoI fans, content creators, artist, fan fiction authors just stopped being in these spaces because of hate towards them or situations like this.

And let me be clear: I don’t want for TGWRLAS to stop being part of the fandom. But please, don’t make other people want to quit either with fucking shitty behavior. I gather it was not the first time, and I’m glad people spoke up because then it would have not been the last time.

And I thank you @arom-antix for platforming this, because if the fandom is small as it is, it must be imperative not condoning, perpetuating and feeding destructive ways.

Thank you very much for this ask. You're no coward. Not wanting to put yourself in harm's way over fandom drama isn't cowardice, and I don't mind being the channel through which you and others speak at all. If anyone is wondering why we're all so upset about TGWRLAS/Samurai's behaviour, read this ask. It outlines a lot of the key points of how insidious the behaviour of Samurai's type is. People don't like accusing others, we like giving the benefit of the doubt, and unfortunately there are people who will take advantage of that. They'll even fool themselves into thinking they're some kind of saviour of the community.

And while yes, everyone (me included) who has encouraged this person now or in the past has partially contributed to the problem, most people aren't aware of when people like Samurai do bad things. That's how they play. They lead people to believe they're not problematic, just a misunderstood underdog to the point where we start doubting our own judgement even when we see an issue. We're also social creatures, and we can be equally afraid of ending up as the target of someone like Samurai. So we fall into line and go about our lives to avoid drama and distress. It's human nature.

So anon, I wouldn't beat yourself up about it too much. You've already separated yourself from this person and aren't encouraging their behaviour. All you can do is move forward. You clearly recognise how problematic Samurai's behaviour is and don't condone it.

And for anyone who has only just started to realise who Samurai really is or have looked past their behaviour before or even encouraged it: no one is ever a lost cause. It's never too late to change your views or choose to do better. Everyone can change. Your choice to not support this behaviour anymore isn't disingenuous just because it's a new choice. Admit to yourself that there's a problem and take steps to rectify it and remove yourself from the bad influence. It's never too late, and I personally wholeheartedly support anyone who wants to do better.

And if you're afraid, I get it. I've been in a similar situation. It's scary to put your foot down and stop letting your friends get away with bad behaviour. It's hard to say no to being a part of it. And don't fall victim to the sunk cost fallacy. You haven't spent too long in this to back out now. Think of it the opposite way. Every second you spend not making the choice to do better is shortening the amount of time you get to be better. Every second of doing your best counts and the past is the past. It's what you do now that matters later, and whatever you've done or been part of before, you can always do better. And despite this being directed at those who are or have been close to Samurai, it also applies to Samurai. As I've said before, I don't want Samurai to suffer. I want them to do better to the benefit of everyone.

Thank you for the ask, anon.

#ask #yuri on ice #arom antix

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jazzythursday · 1 year ago

Text

Last Line Tag Game

Hi! I was tagged by @aphroditestummyrolls to share the last few lines I wrote with you all. To be honest I meant to get to this a while ago, but there's one scene in Heart Of The Country that has been giving me trouble and I was hoping to salvage enough of it for a snippet eventually… which I haven’t quite yet. Taking a break from it for a moment to share some of my Wylan torture/whump wip that I haven't talked much about on here. This scene is part of a Jesper pov chapter about half way through the story:

“Jesper.” The way she says his name gives him pause, and he turns back to her wearily, feeling the weight of every day of this week catching up to him all at once. He sags against the countertop, trying to pass it off as a lean—though she knows him well enough to tell the difference—and sighs. "Talk to me."

"This is talking, we're talking right now." He taps restlessly at the granite of the countertops, attempting a smile even though his face feels like a rubber band about to snap. “You’ve been gone for a long time, Nej, you’ll forgive a man for wanting to catch up. Maybe I’m just curious about all your exciting adventures at sea.”

“My adventures at sea involve a lot of waste management and trying to keep my knives from rusting from saltwater. It isn’t particularly glamorous.” She smiles kindly at him, sympathetic but without pity. “I’ve missed you too, Jes, but you know that’s not why I came.”

How could I forget? Jesper could no sooner do so than he could lick his own boots while they were still laced. No, it’s no use putting this off, filling the silence where an empty space sits loudly where another person should be, but he’d tried. He’d missed Inej terribly while she’d been away, as he always does, and it had been easy to slip into friendly conversation and banter just as they would, were this simply another one of her usual visits—like they really are just catching up. It is wonderful to see her, in any case, and it had been nice to pretend, selfishly, that things were normal, if only for a minute.

“Tea?” he offers dully, though the jig is long up by now, and feels a pang at how the word sits wrong in his mouth. Wylan is the one who usually offers tea, who always has their friend's favourite biscuits and herbal blends on hand, slipping into the practised role of hosting like a well worn coat while Jesper chatters away—but they’ve only got Jesper for a poor replacement now, little good he is at it.

“What happened, Jes?”

“It didn’t seem like anything at the time,” Jesper says, after a long beat. “You know we still do work for Kaz, when it suits. It was just—it was like any other job.”

Inej nods, she perches opposite him on the kitchen table, sweeping her long braid over her shoulder to wrap around her hand, combing through the ends as she listens.

There had been nothing especially interesting or dangerous about the job at all. Thinking back on it, it was comparatively boring, a surefire win—and it had been—a veritable success, until it wasn’t.

Tagging @oneofthewednesdays @sparrowmoth @sunfl8wer @waterloou and @sixofcrowdaydreams (but no pressure! 💖)

#also just realised this is my first time writing Inej ahh #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #six of crows #wesper #shadow and bone #jazzy writes

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asteria7fics · 5 months ago

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It's funny you say that because I Never Should Have Gone Ziplining actually is my favorite episode of that season, and if I were to go and make some sort of "favorite episodes list" (which would be so hard to do) it would at least be in the top five. It takes so many things I enjoy (mockumentaries, blowing little things hilariously out of proportion, the jackin it in san diego song) and mixes them together.

The other day my coworker was telling me a story about something and he said "to make a long story short" at least four times and all I had to fight not to smile because it reminded me of Kyle.

Season 16 in general is such a good run of episodes. Sarcastaball, Raising The Bar (Cartman's mobility scooter just kills me), A Scause For Applause, Obama Wins, there's so much gold to pick from there. There's something hilarious in every episode. I just watched Cartman Finds Love again the other day and the part where he sings to Kyle in the stadium had me cackling.

I like that you posted a whole bunch of seasons, for such a long running show South Park has tons of really great episodes. Even season 1 still makes me laugh. On the dvds each season 1 episode starts with Matt and Trey having a fireside chat that was, to quote them, a real hoot and a holler to watch.

The most nostalgic season for me is season 8. My first episode ever was Butt Out (the part where the boys immediately start smoking to not be like those anti-smoking teens is what made me a fan of the show to begin with) and after that I would watch episodes as they came out On Demand.

You're very welcome! Glad to distract! If you ever wind up posting those episode lists one day I'll read them with gusto!

(I feel you about season 20. I watched it as it was coming out week to week and I was completely hooked. Loverboy Cartman was magic haha)

OKAY THANK YOU!!! It’s such an objectively good episode and people who don’t enjoy it honestly baffle me… but I am also a big fan of mockumentaries. I won’t lie though, it does make me kinda wanna go ziplining just to say that I did. (Also that anecdote made me actually laugh out loud I would have lost it ꉂ (≧ヮ≦) )

Season 16 seriously is so insanely packed with excellent episodes. Man, I really need to do a rewatch soon!

I really wish I could be more decisive but I just love so many seasons too much to only pick one! And they’re all so good for different reasons, you know? Like some are just objectively hilarious, some I love more for their tight storytelling. I dunno man, say what you will about Those Bastards, but they know what they’re doing, and I think they’re only getting better with age.

You know, sometimes I wish I had watched the show growing up, though I’m sure my parents would have put a stop to it the first time an episode gave me a nightmare (I was a sensitive child lmao). Still, I remember a lot of the boys in my class really loving the show, so I got little snippets through cultural osmosis.

Thank YOU for sharing your thoughts with me! Ask literally anyone I know irl, talking about South Park is quite literally my favorite pastime! One of these days I will make that list, just for you… and anyone else that cares about my opinion ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

(THANK YOU AAAH I’M NOT ALONE AFTER ALL ಥ‿ಥ )

#ask asteria #South Park #seriously I love talking about this show it heals something in me #I put my ewily playlist on and am absolutely vibing with this energy ahaha #but again thank you for sharing your thoughts #my inbox is always open to you friend #I really do need to do a rewatch of season 16 soon #I just watched it with my roomie and I already miss it

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alwaysjustmina · 1 year ago

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19 but specifically the dew thingy you told me? 😃

19 - snippets of WIPs

As you all know @jazz-bazz has hand written all the letters from my story Letters to Dewdrop and I had said I may have more letters in the future from Dew. While I don't have anything written, my idea is for after Whispers to Rain, is that Dew is trying to heal and he will be away for awhile at a cottage by a lake away from the abbey, either by himself or with others. He will have the letters Rain wrote with him and it will give him the idea to do the same, to get his feelings down on paper for Rain to read at a later date. These will be incredibly hard for him to write as it will explain his thoughts on what he went through, how he feels about Rain and what happened at the end of Whispers. It will be part of the next story arc and will more than likely start after January.

And since I needed clarification on for sure what Jazz wanted, I have also included upon request part of feral Rain/Dew that I'm working on for an anon. It is a follow-up to @papaslittlesunshine

Snippet (not edited yet):

“You look like shit.” Wow. Words from Dew for the first time in weeks.

He just shrugged and went to the counter to serve himself from the serving dishes. Quickly sitting as far from Dew as he could, wishing he could dissolve into the floor.

They both ate, Rain not knowing that Dew kept looking at him with a pensive look on his face. Even though they were far apart at the table the scent of Dew permeated his every pore. He could feel the fire in his gut intensifying as he sat there longer. Rain wasn’t going to let Dew chase him from this last meal though, he need this last bit of normalcy before it all fell apart for a few weeks.

Dew watched him from the other end of the table, Rain was hunched over his plate, not a normal occurrence, he was always so proper. Between the forkfuls of greens and succulent bits of fish, Dew noticed Rain grasping at his stomach, the quiet keens under his breath. It dawned on Dew that Rain was very near his heat cycle. Desire coursed this him at the thought of Rain once more under his body, writhing in pleasure, only brought on by Dew.

“I would think you would be in your room this close to your cycle.”

Rain’s eyes shot up, his brow furrowed, his eyes, the chocolate bottomless pools, sadness flashed across them. All he could mumble was a soft plea, a plea to leave him alone to suffer in his absolute sadness by himself. He would not cry in front of Dew, he promised himself, even as tears flooded his eyes, threatening to spill over. He quickly looked away, back to his plate.

Dew couldn’t stop himself from his questions, he knew what he had said to Rain. He had meant it, but the reasons behind it were his own. Even as he sat there though, his vision filled with Rain, Rain suffering, he wondered how he would make it through this time on his own. He had heard that he was planning to be by himself.

“Did you not find someone to spend it with?” Rain barely heard Dew with how quietly the words were uttered from his mouth.

“Why do you care, Dew, what does it matter to you what I am doing?”

Dew sighed at the response, “Rain, I still care about you.”

“CARE? H-How, Can’t you just, just, fuck, just leave me alone?” He practically shouted, sputtering the words between the tears that cascaded down his face.

“Of course I care about you, how can you even think I don’t.”

Rain pushed his chair back, the legs sliding across the floor with tremendous sound, echoing through the quiet den. No one to hear it except for the two of them. He gripped the table, as the chair fell over behind him, his plate sliding precariously close to the edge of the table. “Fuck you, Dew.”

Rain rushed to put his plate in the sink behind them, stumbling in his hurried frenzy to get back to the safety of his room, away from Dew, away from the hurt. He didn’t hear Dew push back from the table, his chair silent in comparison to Rain’s. He didn’t hear Dew walk behind him to the sink, he didn’t realize Dew had his arms on both sides around him, until he felt the heat of his body.

“D-Dew, please.”

Dew couldn’t stop himself as he crowded into Rain, nuzzling the strong muscles of Rain’s back against his face. “I miss you.” The words just slipping from his mouth.

Dew could feel Rain’s body tremble against his, he brought his hands front he counter to embrace his body, pulling him in close.

“My heart, is fucking, brok-broken,” Rain sobbed, unable to stop himself as Dew encapsulated him in his arms. Why did it feel so good, but break him apart even more.

Dew turned Rain’s body from the sink to face him, holding him close, Rain barely hanging on his, his arms loose at this side, the rejection he felt wracking his body all over.

Never be anything more.

It repeated in his head, over and over again. He went to push away from Dew, but his strong grip kept him between his arms. He brought his arms to pound at his chest, he couldn’t do this again, even through all the hurt he was still fucking in love with him.

“Please, please Dew, you are fucking killing me.” He begged.

Dew brought his right hand up to wipe away Rain’s tears as they flowed down his cheeks. He didn’t want to hurt Rain, he cared for him so much, but when Rain said he loved him, he shut down. He wasn’t worth his love, Rain was beautiful and pure, Dew was a demon, debauched and devious. He couldn’t give him the love he deserved even more after hearing the things his past relationships had said about him after they ended things. He didn’t think he’d survive the aftermath of Rain saying those things. Rain looking at him with hate in his eyes, it was better to end things now rather than face the hurt later that was inevitable.

Standing here though, with Rain in his arms, he questioned his absolute stupidity. The decision to hurt Rain, rather than letting Rain hurt him later, why would he do that to him.

“Rain,” he murmured next to his neck, inhaling him, he was intoxicating. Being this close to Rain was going to throw him headlong into his heat. He could feel both of their arousal despite the pain of the loss of the other.

“Dew, please, I can’t handle you this close, I was just learning to live without you.”

“I don’t want you to live without me.”

#rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #nameless ghouls #snippet #mina writes #ghost fan fiction #fan fiction #raindrop #something in the orange #letters to dewdrop #whispers of rain #ask game #mina answers

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deadgirlwalking91 · 2 months ago

Note

For the 40 questions ask: 8, 13, 17 👀☺️

Hello Sloane! <3

Thank you so much for the ask! Answers below the cut...

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Here's a snippet from Thank You for the Venom where Adam propositions Lute. This particular scene was a blast to write, mostly because they're both at a point where they feel something for each other beneath their dislike but aren't quite aware of the extent of it. I like to think I did an okay job at showing Adam being his usual awful, dick self mixed with an element of genuine desire for Lute—and then subsequently her vocalising her disgust for him but her body language suggesting otherwise.

(apologies for length, it's hard to cut it down without losing the context of the scene)

“Is that what you want, Lutey?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he murmured, thoroughly enjoying himself. Mostly because he had control of the situation, and when it came to the two of them trading verbal blows, her sharp tongue usually held the upper hand whenever they were at odds. Which was most of the time.

Right now, though? He had her right where he wanted her, and he planned to relish it.

“You’re a pain in the ass. Go annoy someone else.”

“Where’s the fun in that? None of them give me lip like you do. They’re all so boring.” he rose from his seat, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist. He took a quick sip from the glass that the bartender had left on the counter for him and shuffled Lute’s stool forward so he could stand behind her. He bent down, his free hand coming to rest on her bare thigh, chin hovering just above her shoulder.

“But you’re not boring, are you, Lute?” he whispered, rubbing her leg, taking in the firmness of her quad muscle, his fingers catching on the faint, golden scars that decorated her skin. “You could never be boring. Not with a filthy mouth like yours.”

“Someone is going to fucking see you.”

“You’re not asking me to stop though, are you babe? Feel free to say the word, though, and I’ll back off. Besides, they’re too busy socialising to notice our little chat. I could take you right here, on the counter and nobody would notice a thing.”

He felt her exhale, her hand now holding his so tightly to her body he was sure she’d break his fingers.

“Don’t worry, they’re not looking in our direction at all. See them having fun?”

“Yes,” she breathed. He noticed that her free hand was gripping the edge of her bar stool so hard that her knuckles were straining, the taught flesh around them white against her already pale skin.

“You’re so tense, babe. Take a leaf out of their book, Lutey. I could help you relax,” he murmured into her shoulder, the hand on her leg now fingering the hem of her dress. “Imagine it, just one night where everything between us is off the table. I’ll fuck you senseless until your eyes are rolling into the back of your head. You won’t be able to walk for a week by the time I’m done with you.”

13. What's the best writing advice you've ever come across?

Write a little every day! I find dedicating even just a little bit of time helps chip away at my progress and makes me feel like I'm getting closer and closer to my goal (whether that be finishing a fic or chapter). I do have a daily word count I try to hit, but honestly any progress is good progress.

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Out of order, haha. Some chapters I can write in chronological order, but others I jump between scenes depending on vibes. I have some draft scenes already written for the final TYFTV chapter, and the prologue for The Ghost of You and part of the first chapter is already written as well.

40 Questions List

#deadgirl answers #thank you for the venom #the ghost of you

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dreamtigress · 10 months ago

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Many Sentence Monday

Ever write a story with some OC's that you just utterly fall in love with? That's Ryo and Omar for me right now. I love these two damaged goofballs SO FUCKING MUCH. I cannot wait to share the whole of this story. But for today, you get a snippet.

Een Taal Aanleren (Language Lessons) is a spin off from Kanej Wensen, getting to know two more of the Dregs, Ryo and Omar. Just before this snippet that happens on the front stairs of the Slat, Ryo has confronted Omar about his romantic attractions.

“How long have you known?” He asked because even he himself wasn’t sure. From the moment Omar had seen him fighting for his life, he’d thought Ryo was attractive. When Brekker had essentially assigned him babysitting duty for the new recruit, he hadn’t minded the excuse to watch over him. Weeks of spending time together, working shifts, language lessons, drinking together after hours… It was a bit of a blur for Omar as to exactly when he’d started fantasizing about kissing Ryo. About how it might feel to run his hands over the other man’s creamy skin, or through his long, straight black hair. What it would be like to have those lustrous amber eyes focused on him with passion. What kinds of sounds he might make during sex. Whether he liked to cuddle afterwards. If he might want something more. Like a romantic relationship.

Ryo stopped, one stair up, and twirled gracefully. He pinned Omar to the spot directly in front of him with one raised eyebrow. “Ever since the night you saved me.”

It was the most absolute confidence Omar had ever heard Ryo speak Kerch with. As if there were no doubts in his mind about the timing. “I… uh…” He ran a hand up the back of his neck, utterly at a loss. Okay, yeah, maybe I am an idiot. Omar looked down, trying to find words or maybe even courage.

“Am I wrong?” That came with just a tad less confidence. And some curiosity.

“I… I don’t think you are. I think I might be a shǎ, though.”

“Omar?”

“Yeah?” He still hadn’t picked his head up, staring a hole into the stair besides Ryo’s feet instead.

“I have wanted since that night… to do this…”

Ryo’s hand came up, his fingers brushing like a whisper up Omar’s chin, lifting his head with the barest pressure. As the other man planted a feather light kiss on his lips, Omar froze. Then his toes curled in his boots, his brain shouted with glee, and he melted. He all but lunged forward to deepen the kiss. All coherent thoughts fled, driven forth by starvation. It had been entirely too long since he’d received affection like this. A kiss like this. Since he’d entertained anything besides his doomed crush, and quick flings just to get sex. He found his hands were now on either side of Ryo’s waist, with no recollection of putting them there. All Omar wanted was more. More of Ryo’s firm lips on his. Ryo’s clever tongue in his mouth. More of Ryo’s skin under his fingertips. Santos, he’s a good kisser. The other man’s hand moved to the nape of Omar’s neck, and their continued kiss had every last bit of his attention.

Which would be why Anika got the drop on them. “You two might want to take that inside. I could have robbed both of you blind.”

Grinning like a fool, Ryo pulled back first, while Omar blinked, dropped his hands, and felt his face go hot. “I knew you were there, boss,” the Shu man asserted.

“Yeah, sure, Ryo. You’re lucky it wasn’t Brekker who caught you. Get yer asses to a fucking room or something, Saints alive.”

Omar managed, “Sure, boss.” Anika snickered as she brushed by them to head inside the Slat. The blond lieutenant and Pim shared one of the nicest rooms on the second floor. The fact that she’d caught them making out wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as the part where Omar hadn’t noticed someone approaching from behind. It was dangerous to let your guard down like that in the Barrel. Even in your own turf, on the stairs to your gang’s main house. If it had been Brekker who’d come up behind them, he would have either robbed them or smacked them with his cane. Or both. “We… we ought to go inside…”

Slyly, Ryo ran his hand down Omar's neck to grab the lapel of his waistcoat. “Your room or mine?”

Eyes wide, Omar stammered, “I… uh… My bed’s bigger.”

The smile that answered him was kin to the panther that had stalked him before. It had pounced now, happy with its captured prey. “The deal is done.”

“Um. It’s usually ‘the deal is the deal’.”

“That too.”

Santos, what have I gotten myself into? Omar thought as he followed the confidant and graceful Shu man into the Slat, and towards whatever was about to happen.

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makriiii · 2 years ago

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Caught XII (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 3.1k

Authors notes: Sorry this one took so long 😭

Warnings: 18+, angst, guns.

♡

Caught XII

You hadn't gotten Arthur to do much this morning, as he was getting off easy after being asked by Abigail to take Jack to do something, something that would distract the poor boy from all the goings-on in this camp.

By no means were you mad at Abigail or Jack, but the snide look Arthur gave you as he walked by to his horse after telling the boy to get his fishing rod did.

"You think you're gonna get to leisure?" Snickering harshly as you decided then and there you were tagging along.

"Got business to do, I guess." He was more than happy to dismiss his duties, but you weren't letting up that easy.

"Fine then, but I'm coming with." You made sure you had all your guns, and though you didn't neglect them, you wished you had just so they'd be difficult for Arthur to clean. "Teach Jack to fish, but then you're cleaning my guns."

He bites back an argumentative retort, glaring at your face that now traded eachothers looks. A dirty smirk on yours and a vexed frown on his.

Pulling his eyes away from yours, he lifted Jack up on the back of his horse and pushed past you down the path leading to the river below the overlook.

Bouncing around on your horse after yesterday... you could feel most every part of your muscles burning and aching, especially your back, shoulders, and arms.

You wanted to get back at him, and now it was his turn to see how fun working was with a wound like yours.

Arthur and Jack spoke a bit of back and forth until you had enough courage to get your mare into a canter, much as your body protested.

"You feelin' better? I know you was a little sick." Arthur questions jack with a small check-up.

"Oh, I'm fine." He assures plainly. At that age, you recalled the simplicity of life.

"You're a brave kid." Compliments Arthur, the sort of warm speech you'd use with a kid. It didn't seem much Arthurs style, that's for sure, from what you were used to at least.

Jack looked up to Arthur, both literally and figuratively in that moment, confessing his conclusion. "So just like you."

Arthur gave him a chuckle, glancing over to you as you focused on not sliding out of your saddle with your sore legs shaking.

"I dont know about brave... I ain't much of a kid no more either." You were a bit surprised with this display, as typically he was all up in your face haughty. "Though your momma might disagree. Her and a few other women, I guess."

Now, his glance turned into more solid eye contact when you felt you were referenced in that sentence.

"I like it when you're agreeable." You nod with a certain light heartedness. The kind that was hard to muster around Arthur on a normal day.

His brow knitted together, but his playful look didn't completely vanish, no.

"What do you mean?" Jack chimes with confusion. He was still too young to understand humor of that sorts.

"Oh, I'm just talking silly. It's been a tough few weeks up in that snow."

"I liked the snow." Jack corrects as his eyes light up with the memory. For you, you'd been up there for only barely two days and didn't like it much. Their whole story of being up there you'd only caught snippets of.

The rest of the ride was short as you scoped out a good spot to fish at, Arthur and Jack, continuing a small conversation about the old camp and something he'd left behind in Blackwater.

It was tough for Jack, and tough to explain a situation like the gangs to a kid in a way he could not only understand but not start being worried or stressed.

You felt bad for him, but this whole trip was exactly for helping him not worry or stress.

Dismounting, you helped Jack down as Arthur got out the fishing supplies.

"You ready for fishin', Jack?" Distracting yourself with a question for him as your arms screamed at you with his weight being held.

He was still a bit skeptical of you. He knew about O'Driscolls and didn't like them much either as the rest of the gang. Did his part in pickin' on Keiran too, as young as he was.

His eyes scanned you with a harsh and genuine judgment only a young kid could give you, social skills not yet fully developed. "Yeah, I think so."

You walked him close to the water as you waited for Arthur, who wasn't far behind, holding the rods and bait.

"So, what was it you said you lost at Blackwater?" If it wasn't something completely unique, then perhaps you could get it for him.

"My storybook." He reiterates, clearly enough for your ears this time. That was easy enough for you to find. Probably. You hadn't seen a library in a long time.

"I'll see what I can do for you, hm?" You offer, not wanting to promise anything, just in case.

"Okay." He states plain as day. Conversing with kids was hard. So straight to the point most of them.

You stood back, heading for a small, dry rock to plant yourself on as you watched 'Uncle' Arthur verse Jack in the ways of fishing.

He seemed to catch on quick as they cast their rods out.

The whole setting by the river and birds achatter while Jack and Arthur were fishing, admittedly was the most calm you'd had for some time.

"I think you got a bite, look!"

The tranquil prattle ahead turned into excited calls from the both of them, your eyes drawing to the water to see what they spotted.

Arthur exclaims the same as Jack. "Fish on the line!" Safe to say, you hadn't seen Arthur like this at all before.

He reeled the line in as best he could as he fought with the thing, said thing, giving quite the scrimmage for its freedom against Arthur.

That was another learning chance for Jack, Arthur teaching him more tips along the reeling he was doing.

Once he had it close enough, he yanked it out. A dinky little thing, no bigger than your hand.

You let out a small snicker at his prize, one that perhaps wasn't worth the fight.

Arthur shoots you a look over his shoulder before holding it up to show Jack. "Look Jack, it's a bluegill! Almost as small as you."

Another small laugh came out of you at Arthurs laid-back teasing with Jack, who didn't seem much for the joke.

He threw the fish back in and cast his line back out, a short silence before Jack became disheartened with not catching anything. Wasn't long after that, he wanted to take a break, which was your time to strike.

As Jack strode a few feet away to a small patch of grass and flowers, you came up behind Arthur.

Your hand gripped above Arthurs shoulder, who jolted with your sudden arrival and touch just above his wound. "You see those guns on my saddle?"

He glowered at you next to him, glancing back and then to you again.

"I'll fish for you, get something bigger." You smile with raised eyebrows, feigning innocence over your cocky attitude.

Handing over the rod reluctantly, he went back unwilling to your mount to collect your guns. "Dont reckon you'll catch much better than me."

"Reckon I will. Dont doubt me yet."

"Too late for that."

You shake your head, switching your position to that of one you'd assume a professional would take. Likely it wasn't anyway.

"You got gun oil, or do I gotta use my own?" He gripes while he sat down in the distance between you and Jack, your shotgun and rifle in hand.

"Count it along my drinks you owe me." Gun oil was dirt cheap, and you didn't feel too bad if he had to use his own.

He grumbles something with a shake of his head and a quick venture into his satchel to grab some out. "I'm almost out since someone used most of it on my guns yesterday."

"They're clean, aren't they?" There was a chance you'd used a bit extra, but some of his guns were extra dirty, you shrugged. "We have to go to town soon anyways."

"Yes, we do." He was quick with his response, but both you knew your bounties would need to be paid off first. You just didn't want to arise any curiosity from Jack.

"I think you got a bite, y/n!" Jack points to the slight splashing in the water, just then finally paying mind to the tugging and whipping your head back around.

Bantering with Arthur distracted you from an activity you hadn't done for quite some time, something that you could agree with Jack on, was boring.

You reeled and pulled carefully, tugging the fish closer each time it stopped fighting. It took forever, and your full focus.

Just when you thought it finally conceded your attempt at yanking it to the surface, it pulled with vigor that near startled you.

"Dont loose it now, y/n." Arthur chortles behind you with his typical grating voice, the type that nearly lost you the fish.

As the fish finally slipped out of the water, you prepared yourself for the teasing you already knew you'd get from Arthur.

You could hear him chuckling evil. Both because of the fish but your confidence in your fishing ability. "Good thing we aint relying on you to eat."

"You weren't doin' much better than I was." Begrudgingly setting the small fish go before setting out the line again. You already felt like giving up. "I prefer fishin' in lakes anyway."

"I dont think you prefer fishin most of the time 'anyway'." His voice was much closer now, his steps near silent in the sand as he crept up on you.

"I fare better with guns, I suppose." You clicked your tongue disappointed that the fish proved Arthur right and your confident position started to slump. "Did you leave my guns in the sand?" You ask as you turn to give Arthur a look and your guns a glance.

Arthur was much closer than you anticipated, which somewhat shocked you. Not quite realizing how close he had actually gotten.

"Your guns are fine, but here." His chest suddenly met your back, and his hands finding themselves over yours. "You need to hold the rod like this."

You raise a cynical brow. Firstly, not realizing there was a wrong way to hold a rod, but secondly wondering why he was helping you physically, not just with his words.

The words you thought of saying prevented by another bite on the line. Jack calling it out again.

The sudden jerking caused Arthur to back up and let you at it, returning back to the guns he had left on the rock and thankfully not in the sand.

If you were not mistaken, the fight from this fish gave you hope that it was larger, but with that hope, a dread that your line was about to snap.

Arthur and Jack stayed just as silent as you, everyones sole focus on the splashing in the water as it wrangled closer to shore.

The splashes through the water made it hard to see how big it was on the surface, but you prayed and prayed it was big.

Finally, the splashing quit, and the fish revealed itself. The scales shone and glimmered in the sun as it wriggled in protest.

You looked over to them with dismay, both of them with a smile on their faces. "You think Pearson would be proud of me for this one?"

"No." Jack was quick to reply simply and truthfully, though a bit of a giggle mixed in as he fiddled with small red flowers in his lap.

"Pearson would be proud of himself if he caught the first one you had." Arthur chuckles along with Jack, finishing with your guns.

You couldn't help but laugh with them through the disappointment of another small catch.

As you threw the fish back into the water, Jack drew both yours and Arthurs' attention. "Hey, look at this."

"At what?" Arthur asks, walking back up to him.

You traipsed closer to get a better look, Jack holding up a necklace of flowers for display. "This necklace I made." Proud as could be.

"Necklace?" Arthur squints as he bends down to examine closer.

"For momma." Jack answers with a soft grip on it, cautious to not break any of the delicately knotted stems.

"That's sweet, Jack." You smile, impressed with his intricate craft. "Not even I can do that."

"Really?" He asked like it was something everyone knew how to do.

You handed back the rod to Arthur, who started deconstructing it for you. "I never learned properly -"

"What a fine young man." Interrupted a slithery voice behind you, which had you and Arthur both startling upright. "And in such complex circumstances."

In front of you had arrived two well-dressed men, dismounting and calmly floating to where the three of you stood.

"Arthur, isn't it? Arthur Morgan?" His tone and initial dialog was easy to be judged and labeled with ill-intent. The badges on their fancy and clean coats weren't helping either. "I think I've seen your face on a wanted poster or two, as well, miss." Now he directed, unexpectedly at you.

"Who are you?" Arthur made sure Jack was behind you and him, a sheild of sorts.

You already knew this wasn't business either of you wanted Jack hearing.

Arthur already had the same idea, both your eyes meeting, and with a small nod of agreement, you scooped up Jack as the man with a badge of the law spoke to Arthur.

Jack seemed confused as you walked away with him, your mind running with whatever would come out to distract him until you got out of earshot.

"Listen, I know I'm an O'Driscoll, but how 'bout we set our differences aside for a moment?" You ask softly, listening the best you could to the man as the distance silenced him. "Could you teach me how to make one of those necklaces?"

Jack contemplated you as he slowly slid out of your arms, your muscles ready to cramp. "Okay. But who are those men?"

You weren't even sure yourself, quite honestly. Whistling your horse over from where she stood grazing. "No one to worry about." You assured in the most comforting tone you could manage.

Now tagging along just for clean guns wasn't a bad idea, after all. You liked the boy, and avoiding any unnecessary trauma inflicted on him was the least you could do.

Arthur spread a gob of leather conditioner over your saddle that sat over his lap as you both sat at the table together.

You eyed him every so often. Occasionally, he did too, both making eye contact for a few moments. His eyes burned, and so did his pride.

The soup you ate while sitting in pensive silence with Arthur tasted even better while you watched him run the rag across your saddle.

If he hadn't made you chop so much wood yesterday, then youd've been sure to make him do some too, but as of right now, only splinters and small chunks of wood sat left.

Every time his eyes met yours, you gave him a content grin, which seemed to only peeve him off more.

"There'll be a time where I wipe that smile off your face." He growls at you from across the table. His movements with the rag getting more rough in his frustration with you. "Why are you sitting here, anways? I've seen enough of you for a day."

You stared at him for a moment before deciding to finish your soup, not bothering to retort first. "You remember when we were fishing just earlier?" You pointed your spoon at him all accusatory, sly, and teasing.

"Yes? I dont forget that fast." Then his anger fell, his head slowly turning to meet your look. His eyes squinted, and his lips pressed together when he realized where you were going with this. "Dont even start."

A slow chuckle started out of you as he tried to cease the progression of something worse with just a glare. "Was I actually holding that rod wrong?" You weren't direct. You wanted to see if he had an explanation.

"It's hard to hold something so simple wrong, yet you still did it."

Now you were confused, coming to a stand and traipsing over to his side, replaying your stance with an imaginary rod for a second. "You're right about the first part. But I wasn't holding it not normal?"

He looked up at you from under his hat, the darkness setting over the land making it harder to see his eyes.

"I think you just wanted an excuse." The crack at your lips grew with each time you teased without any specifics. He knew exactly what you were on about.

"Oh, for what?" His hand relaxed on the rag, now his full attention solely on you.

"Not even being an O'Driscoll seems to matter anymore." You acted all vaunt, but in truth, you weren't completely dead positive yet.

He raised his head up more to see you better underneath his worn hat. Your teasing didn't seem to completely anger him now, a sarcastic tug at his lips revealed itself. "Felt bad for the only lady who doesn't know how to fish proper."

You hissed out a small laugh, one that acknowledged him, but not one of letting him have the last laugh. "Maybe you felt bad for shooting me, so you gave me your best interpretation of a warm embrace."

That earned you a sharp chuckle, scoffing at your counter. "Save your nonsense for when we get our drinks."

"Then you best save your speakin' in general for that, Morgan." Shaking your head, you step up close to see the progress on your saddle.

"Sure, princess." He turned his head down and away to hide his face under the cover of his hats brim, the rag in his hand returning to its work.

You studied him sitting in front of you, thinking of anything that might annoy him more.

Your hand met his cheek, guiding his face to look back up at you. Not a peep or resistance from him, just sturdy and stern eye contact.

"You missed a spot." Pointing with your other hand to a small area in the dim candle light from the table.

Now his face felt warm, wether in reaction to your first gesture or anger at your words, you didn't know.

Your hand left his face, pushing down his hat over his face as you turned to leave. "When you're done, I'll have found something more for you to do."

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The scene with Jack is not alluding to a pregnancy trope, I promise 🤞

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #enemies to lovers #lemon fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2arthur #rdr

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