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spectre-fivee · 4 years ago

Text

Over the Moon: Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8081 (wtf this is so close to Anakin’s secret password or whatever, also WOW this is easily the longest piece I’ve ever written)

Warnings: HEAVY smut, both male and female receiving oral, unprotected sex, lots and lots of dirty talk, heavy use of the word ‘master’, dom/sub play, slight brat taming, praise and humiliation kink, edging, slight force play & restraint

A/N: Hey yalllll I’m back with another smut LMAO this is a prequel to let me take care of you, my first obi-wan smut :DD this is LONG asf and includes a small backstory but I promise the majority of it includes smut scenes lol. I hope you guys enjoy and I love your feedback!! much love <3

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

You were over the moon when you found out that you would be accompanied by General Obi Wan Kenobi on your next business trip.

Literally. Quite literally, you were over the moon. You had just coincidentally flown over Centax-3 and were now in pursuit to Coruscant's surface in preparation for your oncoming journey, and you were so beyond excited that you found it hard to contain yourself around your personal guards. Just as you entered the planet’s atmosphere, you decided you had enough of the automated briefing and muted the transmitter on your arm. You were too focused on the fact that you were going to be alone with General Kenobi for an entire day.

Well, night really. You had managed to catch that part of the briefing.

You could watch it later. As you packed, perhaps. It was fine.

Feeling like a little girl as you basically pranced back to your quarters, you lugged a small bag out of your closet and began to fill it with necessities.

Being a senator for so many years had forced you into countless situations with General Kenobi, but never such as this one. When you met the Jedi Knight in the beginning of your career, the two of you clicked almost instantly. Over time, your admiration of the man blossomed into something...different.

Oftentimes the general would escort you from the Senate Chamber itself all the way to your office on the third floor. He had always been so well spoken and full to the brim with witty charm, enough to make you feel like a total schoolgirl when you locked yourself in your office, squealing and jumping up and down after your encounters with him. Sometimes, you would accompany Obi Wan on walks both inside and outside the building. One time, he was kind enough to show you the gardens outside the Jedi temple on Coruscant. Other times, you were simply by his side in the senate halls, holding your stomach as you just about died of laughter. It was all you could do to keep yourself from absolutely melting when he looked at you with those glittering blue eyes, his lips curved up into a smirk.

Butterflies swarmed in a vicious frenzy as you packed your bag, your cheeks so hot you thought you might explode just at the thought of General Kenobi. You looked up when you heard a soft knock at your door. “Come in,” You had said before a guard stepped inside and informed you that you were leaving earlier than the time scheduled. You nodded and rose to your feet swiftly with a polite smile.

“That’s alright, I’m already prepared.”

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

The only thing you had forgotten was to finish watching the automated briefing.

Which, arguably, should have been at the top of your list. But somehow it had just slipped from your mind. Now, you were positioned in between General Kenobi and his commander, CC-2224, but you knew him as Cody. The two men remained quiet and Obi Wan tapped through the data pad in his hand. When you glanced at Cody, you couldn’t tell what exactly he was looking at or if he even had his eyes open under his helmet, he was so quiet. Either way, you cast him a polite smile when you glanced his way.

You felt kind of awful, really. This was, on your part, a mission regarding humanitarian aid, and you were the Galactic Republic’s representative in this instance. You didn’t know anything about this planet you were traveling to, only its name - Lelroth. You didn’t know the people’s conditions nor how much territory the Separatists occupied, that is, unless the citizens had decided to stand their ground.

A clone trooper’s voice came over the intercom of the transporter. “We’ll be arriving shortly.”

You tried to peek at Obi Wan’s data pad in hopes of receiving any information. “Have you ever been to Lelroth?” You asked.

He glanced up at you. “No. Frankly, I have no idea what to expect.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” You muttered quietly. His eyebrows quirked up as he stared at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You...received the briefing, correct?” He asked, and immediately your palms began to sweat.

“Of course I received the briefing.” You responded a little too defensively. He gave you a small grin before looking back down at the tablet in his hands.

You glanced over at Cody nervously as if expecting a response. You felt stupid after your eyes fell onto his yellow helmet, hearing Obi Wan step away and enter the pilot’s cabin.

“You didn’t watch the briefing, did you?” Cody asked, his voice hushed and amused.

“No.” You said. “No, I did not.”

You heard his chuckle through the moderator in his helmet as heat rose to your cheeks. You couldn’t help but smile and punch him playfully, giggling slightly. He leaned closer and began to fill you in quietly, and all jokes fell aside when you learned of the planet’s condition.

Few months prior, Lelroth had fallen under separatist control after the population had been forced under Count Dooku’s submission. The Republic Senate had been receiving reports of just about anything you could think of to describe a humanitarian crisis. You stumbled into Cody a bit as the ship landed.

“We’re here.” The pilot announced as the hatch lowered with a loud, steaming noise.

You squinted as bright sunlight poured into the cabin, raising a hand up to block the sun as Obi Wan stepped out. Lelroth’s atmosphere was thick and humid as you followed him, listening to the dirt crumble beneath your feet as you stepped out. You gazed around the enclosing woods with a small smile, the saturation taking you by surprise after being stuck on Coruscant’s smoggy surface for so long. Though it was muggy, the air felt clean and fresh as you took in a deep breath. You swore you could almost taste the moisture on your tongue.

“Preferably tomorrow morning, yes. I’ll be contacting the council tonight and…” The general’s voice came in and out of earshot as you glanced over at the assault carrier you arrived on. You watched as the clones nodded swiftly at the Jedi’s words, saluting him one last time before the hatch closed and the ship descended through the trees. It was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived.

Obi Wan sighed and pulled the data pad back out of the abyss of his dark cloak before tapping at the screen again. “Let’s make this quick, shall we?” He murmured.

You laughed slightly. “Is my presence such a bother?” The tablet still held his attention as he flashed you a grin.

“Oh, yes. That’s definitely the reason.” He joked.

A sickening feeling started to grab at your stomach after hearing Cody describe the condition on Lelroth. You were unnerved, and regardless of the fact that you had a Jedi Knight as your company, you two were members of the Galactic Republic isolated on separatist territory.

“We should get going.” You murmured. “They’ll be expecting us soon.” you watched Obi Wan pull his large hood over his head as he murmured something under his breath, stepping forward and heading deep into the thick forest with you on his tail.

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

The Lelrothians were a kind people. Their reaction to your arrival with the general was rather pleasant - they went so far as to throw a feast in you and the general’s honor. After meeting with the chief of the village you would reside in, you finally got a real understanding of the Lelrothians’ situation. You and Kenobi shared a grimaced glance as the chief went on to describe the state of his village alone.

He explained how a large percentage of the newfound members in his village were forced to flee the capital city after falling under a dark hand. You assumed the state of the capital was even worse than this small village as he reported substantial amounts of depleted resources. Running water had been cut off to many families and citizens could no longer supply food on their tables. The chief even mentioned the punishments some experienced for resisting - you weren’t surprised in the nearest after hearing tales of the wicked actions of General Grievous and his clanker army, but still...it was hard to hear.

“We were neutral ground,” You gazed over the chief’s descending head tails as he spoke. Dinek Kev was a twi’lek himself, his account thick and common amongst most of his species. When you glanced around the table, there had to be over fifteen different species in just the room alone. Sullustans, Ithorians, even a few Gungans and a Wookiee occupied a seat at the table. You smiled to yourself and returned your attention to the orange skin of Chief Dinek as he spoke.

“A peaceful people. Nearly everyone in this room is an immigrant or comes from one, somebody who was seeking peace. Other pacifist planets such as Mandalore seem to have been fine as they’ve remained neutral.”

“Believe me, Chief - Mandalore has been experiencing a great deal of their own internal conflict.” General Kenobi spoke.

“Forgive me, Jedi.” Dinek murmured quickly. “I’m just...desperate. I would have never taken the role of chief if it weren’t for Grievous and his army - I only want to protect my family and my home.”

You reached out and took Dinek’s hand, staring into his eyes sympathetically. “I’ll open it up for discussion in the senate as soon as I return to Coruscant. I promise you, Chief Dinek, we’re going to provide Lelroth with humanitarian aid and drive the separatists out of here.”

“I’ll speak with the council tonight.” The hood of Obi Wan’s cloak hung lazily around his neck as he murmured, stroking his beard in his typical fashion. His delicate blue eyes were glued onto his empty plate. Dinek squeezed your hand and began to thank the two of you profusely. You bit your lip, hesitant to discuss the requirements in order for any agreement to come through within the senate.

“Chief Dinek,” You started. “The villagers are going to have to learn to defend themselves.”

All you got from him in response was a simple blink, a common reaction among those the Jedi come to aid. Most planets that fall under separatist control hold peaceful populations, those who don’t believe in waging war and therefore seeing no need for a military. You desperately wished it didn’t have to be this way. It was heartbreaking seeing simple, innocent lives dragged into the Clone Wars, and one day, you hoped that the galaxy would evolve into one where war could be completely evaded.

“Defend ourselves? You mean train us to fight?” Dinek asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

“That is why we’re here.” Obi Wan explained. The chief finally slid his hand from yours and seemed to recoil at the words spoken. “The Jedi can only aid so much, Chief. The Lelrothians need to learn to defend themselves in order to be sure of complete safety from the separatists.”

After a moment of watching the chief calculate in silence, he looked up at you two with an entirely different expression on his face. He glanced around the dim room and gazed over his people with a small smile curved upon his lips. His eyes darted to yours before Obi Wan’s as he spoke.

“You’re right. The Lelrothians are never going to evade this if we don’t take matters into our own hands.” You smiled at Dinek’s words.

“Good.” Obi Wan stroked his beard again.

“I’ll leave for Coruscant at dawn and begin discussion in the senate.” You announced.

“Yes, and that is when training will begin. Tonight I will get an idea of when reinforcements will arrive on Lelroth. We’ll have a very short timespan to train, I suspect.” The general uttered.

“General Kenobi and I will stay in contact and you’ll be the first to know the senate’s decision.” You concluded. Dinek took your hand again and smiled/

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” As he spoke, music began to sound from the instruments held by those up on a small, makeshift stage. The villagers began to cheer and rose to their feet, clapping along to the tune that billowed out from various horns. You grinned as the chief stood and joined his people, taking a woman’s hand delicately and spinning her in delight.

You looked over at Obi Wan with a smile. He looked up at you and met your gaze with the rise of an eyebrow. “What?” He asked.

“Wanna dance?” You giggled. He merely scoffed.

“That would seem a bit unprofessional.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Oh, lighten up, General. They threw an entire feast in our honor, surely we can dance with them.”

He smiled at you sarcastically. “I’ll pass.”

“C’mon. You know you want to.” You pressed, nudging him playfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answered simply.

“Just relax. It’s not like you’ll get kicked out of the order or whatever. It’s just dancing!” He glanced up at you in his seat as you stood, grinning down at him.

“You can be very nagging, did you know that?” He asked. You offered your hand, the same stupid grin plastered onto your lips. He scoffed again and reluctantly took it, rising to his feet slowly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He muttered with a grin as you pulled him over to the crowd and were instantly submerged by cheers, laughter, and celebration, having the time of your life with Obi Wan at your side.

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

The celebration soon came to an end and after a brief escort from Chief Dinek and a few of his men, you and General Kenobi arrived at the motel you would come to stay at briefly. The neon lights of the vacancy sign cast a bleached hot pink color onto the gravel beneath your feet. It crunched and crumbled as you stepped, tuning out of Obi Wan and Dinek’s conversation as you were led into the cramped lobby.

The wallpaper was faded and chipping in the room surrounding the front desk. A small Sullustan woman sat in an organically shaped velvet chair with a book open in front of her. Dinek stepped forward and quickly informed her that you and Kenobi were the reinforcements sent from Coruscant. You listened as she told the chief that there was only one room available, in which you and Obi Wan shrugged off. She thanked the two of you, passed over the room key and sent you on your way. As you trudged up the wooden stairs that led to the second floor, you heard Obi Wan sigh.

“Tired from all that dancing, General?” You chuckled. “You sure know how to get down.”

“Yes, but you on the other hand…” He trailed off, and when you looked back at him with a dramatic expression on your face, he chuckled.

You smiled and swiped the key card through the slot outside the door. “Whatever.”

The two of you didn’t think much of the fact that there was only one room available. It didn’t matter to either of you, because all motel rooms generally contain two separate beds, right?

Wrong. Apparently, all hotel rooms except this one contained two separate beds. Your jaw wanted to hang open at the sight of it, really. Obi Wan froze in his tracks when he entered the compact room.

“Not even a sofa?” you commented. The door still hung open behind you when Obi Wan turned and met your gaze almost frantically.

“There has to be a mistake.” He said.

“She said this was the only room available. Dinek said this was the only lodge in the village.” You mumbled, finally shutting the door.

“Right, well.” The general uttered and stroked his beard once again, beginning to pace as he did so. “I guess I’ll sleep on the floor.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sleep on the floor, you have to train in the morning.” You watched as he traveled over to the chairs seated at a tiny round table in front of the window. They were a brilliant orange in contrast to the faded, once flamboyant green walls.

“No. The chair will do.” He said as he sunk into the cushion. “See?” He planted his feet onto the stem of the table, pushing it back so it allowed him to stretch his ankles over the surface. You only stared at him with your eyebrows raised.

“It beats the floor.” Obi Wan shrugged. You shook your head, smiling as you sat on the edge of the bed. You were facing forward, looking at the painting that hung on the wall before you. The sheets on the mattress were an ugly plaid that was laced with oranges, reds, greens and browns. It was very dated, but at the same time it almost felt...homey.

“We’re adults, aren’t we?” You chuckled. “This is only a business trip, General. Stars, if we have to we can just build a pillow wall between the two of us.”

When you didn’t get an immediate response, you glanced over at him only to see the amused expression on his face. But it was the kind of amused look that nearly belittles you and makes you feel completely and utterly ridiculous.

“Yes, and a business trip it will remain.” He uttered. “I do hope you’re joking.”

Your cheeks grew hot in flustered embarrassment. “Uh - I mean, yeah. Totally kidding.” You darted your eyes to your feet and began to swing them back and forth childishly. You heard chuckling from the general’s end but didn’t dare look over at him. You didn’t need to, you already knew he was sitting back and staring at the data pad again.

Moments passed and you had nothing else better to do than sift through the dusty magazines that sat below the bedside table. The lamp atop the metal surface cast a warm, dim yellow light through the room. It made you feel almost cozy as you flipped through the old pages, reading the articles and gazing at some of the most beautiful alien models you had ever laid eyes on. “Wish they had a holonet in here.” You muttered, bored and wishing for some kind of noise instead of this awkward silence that hung in the air.

Time continued to drag on and it grew late enough for you to decide to head into the bathroom to change your clothes. You turned the handle and listened as the faucet began to run while staring at yourself in the mirror. The general seemed grumpy after your comment, and you weren’t sure why. It was easily played off as a joke, you thought...besides, you only wanted to save him from a little back pain and stiffness in the morning.

You were only trying to be polite. And, well...you were secretly hoping for a little more than that.

As you splashed warm water onto your face, you heard Obi Wan’s voice from the other side of the door and watched as his figure cast shadows across the tile you stood on. The automated voice of Master Yoda and Master Mace Windu echoed around the small room as the general began to discuss with the council.

When you stepped out of the bathroom and crawled under the covers, you tried your best not to eavesdrop on his conversation. You stared at the magazine in your lap blankly.

All he was doing was pacing, it was rather distracting. You wished this place had a radio or something, or that it was safe enough to take a short walk. The meeting between Obi Wan and the other Jedi Masters seemed to last eons as you found your eyelids growing heavy. You stared at the cover of the magazine, it showcased a twi’lek woman posing in front of a ship. You yawned, cast it aside and allowed sleep to take over completely.

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

When you woke up, it was still dark outside. The lamp beside your bed had been shut off by Obi Wan, but the one hanging above the chair he sat in remained lit as he set down the data pad with a sigh. You weren’t sure what had woken you up, and as you gazed at the general while you laid on your side, you didn’t really care.

You could tell he was weary as he blinked slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. Glancing away, you felt slightly creepy as you stared at him for so long. But, I mean, could you really blame yourself?

After moments of silence, Obi Wan was the one to break it. “My apologies. I didn’t realize that the meeting would take so long.” His voice was deep and a bit croaky as it came out.

“It’s okay.” Was all you said as he reached for the light above him.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured.

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the bed?” You made sure it was apparent that you were joking as you smiled and chuckled, gazing at him as you did so. He paused for a moment, staring at you before his lips curved up into a grin.

“I see that pillow wall is still up for discussion?” He teased, and you laughed again.

“C’mon, it won’t bite. Besides, I’m only trying to save you from a little back pain.”

“Senator, are you implying that I’m old?” He chuckled.

“No, but I do understand that the dancing was already a step over the line for you.” You giggled, smirking. “Hurry up with that decision making please, I’m tired.”

Obi Wan laughed slightly before reaching up and turning off the light. To your disappointment, he didn’t stand up from his chair. You sighed softly and shut your eyes, letting go of the situation as you focused on falling asleep again.

Just as your mind began to wander, you felt a weight sink into the mattress beside you. Your eyes flew open as Obi Wan climbed into bed next to you, only to stare at the complete darkness that surrounded.

You grinned. “Did you change your mind?”

He sighed as he settled in. You could feel him, mere inches away from you as he relaxed. “Don’t make me regret it, Senator.”

You chuckled as darker thoughts began to consume you, reminding yourself that this was a business trip - strictly business. You wondered if Obi Wan thought the same, but you shot that down with another reality check as well.

You wanted to say something, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were worried that Obi Wan was actually trying to sleep, and you didn’t want to disturb him, or worse - make things even more awkward like earlier. Now, more than ever, you knew you were never going to fall asleep with Obi Wan Kenobi lying next to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

“I can practically feel how restless you are at the moment.” He murmured.

“Am I moving too much or is it your spooky voodoo magic?” You asked. He began to chuckle softly.

“Do you mean the Force?”

“Yeah, that.”

“It doesn’t take a Jedi to feel you staring at me.” The grin in his voice made you feel even more embarrassed as you rolled over onto your opposite side, your eyes squeezed shut.

Obi Wan hesitated for a moment before murmuring, “I never said stop, darling. I don’t mind.” His words ignited a spark that released trillions of butterflies swarming in your stomach, and you couldn’t stop the gigantic smile that was forming on your lips.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” As you responded, you felt the general’s weight shift behind you.

His voice came from above you now. “Oh, you didn’t hear me clearly?” You felt his hot breath against your ear as he spoke his next sentence. “I said, I don’t mind your staring. I just wish you would stare at me when I could see you doing it.” His mumbling spiraled into your ear and descended down your body, pausing right in between your legs. You crossed them tight in instinct, nearly gasping.

“I thought you said this trip was strictly business, General.” You breathed.

“Like you said, I already crossed the line when you forced me to dance.” He joked. “Besides, I think we’ve both waited long enough for this moment.” His voice was hushed and gravelly and Stars, sexy as it rumbled into your ear. You turned until you felt his lips were hovering over yours in the darkness, the mattress creaking as you did so.

“You didn’t seem to think that way earlier.” You mumbled, a fat smirk on your face as you teased him. He sunk himself closer to you and you swore you felt his lips brush against yours for a second.

“Nobody needs to know,” He whispered. A moment of silence passed before he dove his lips into yours, drawing out a small sound of surprise from you. You felt his forearm come down beside your head and he let out the tiniest of groans. You knew this was coming judging by your previous dialogue, but you were still in shock. For a moment, you seemed to be dead weight as Obi Wan crawled on top of you. The only thing that moved was your lips against his until realization finally kicked in.

It started with your hands, which rose up swiftly to grab the sides of his face. His beard felt scratchy beneath your fingers in the best way as you hooked your legs around his waist. You had always wanted to touch him like this, to feel and move with him as your mouths were connected and one was on top of the other. It was something you could only fantasize about for the longest time until you had to tell yourself it was never going to happen. But now, it was happening.

His lips were as soft and welcoming as the pillows beneath your head as he kissed you. It was deep and passionate and almost aggressive, and that alone confirmed to you that Kenobi wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Following your hands came your tongue as you pressed it between his lips gently, silently asking for entrance into the warm cave of his mouth. He granted permission and you felt his hand entangle in your hair when your tongues met. You sat up slightly, pushing yourself into him further as you dragged your teeth across the pink valley of his bottom lip. The grip nestled in your hair tightened in reaction and you giggled softly into him.

He tasted of fresh mint, and you found yourself wondering if he had brushed his teeth mere moments before this. He was dominating and absolutely thrilling as he rolled over, allowing you to straddle his waist and dip your chin down to his neck to leave a series of pecks down his flesh.

“Someone’s eager,” he commented, and in response you bit down slightly into his skin. He made a small startled noise in response before chuckling, abruptly flipping you onto your back. He left you breathless as his lips collided into yours again, and he groaned when you arched into him. His hands were absolutely everywhere. They ran from your jaw to your neck and then down to your forearms, back up to your shoulders and down to your breasts, down to your waist to grab at your hips...seemingly all at once.

He squeezed his fingers into the meat of your thighs and you groaned, raking your own through his hair. You felt like his touch was all you needed as your tongue slid against his.

Darkness still engulfed the two of you. Obi Wan’s skin was on fire when he caressed you, the heat between your legs was set ablaze as he dipped his chin down, his lips traveling down your neck slowly. You wanted to see him, his face when he looked down at you, his blue eyes clouded with lust. You wanted to look into his eyes and absolutely moan his name, you wanted to -

Obi Wan’s lips left your skin just above the hem of your shirt. He paused for a moment, holding himself before you and panting. “What is it?” You asked.

“Take off your clothes.” He commanded. You felt him lean to the side and squinted when the lamp was switched on. You didn’t respond as your eyes adjusted to the light, you only peered at him rather dumbly. You watched when he dragged his tongue across his lower lip. His eyelids looked heavy when he stared down at you.

“Did I stutter?” He asked. Your heart picked up pace and you grinned when you grabbed the neckline of his robes and yanked him forward.

“Why don’t you take it off for me?” You mumbled, blinking innocently. You felt your wrists fly above your head, elbows bent slightly as they tied together under an invisible grasp. You were confused for a moment as the general began to run his hands underneath your shirt, caressing your sides and traveling over your breasts briefly. It took a moment before it finally dawned on you that he was using the Force as your restraint.

He slid the fabric up ever so slowly and stared at your stomach when it was slowly revealed. He continued, his big warm hands sliding up your skin and pausing just as your breasts were revealed. He murmured something inaudible before tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you down on the mattress so his lips were level with your nipples. You moaned quietly, biting your lip as he began to kiss them. Your cunt was throbbing at this point and the muscles in your arms grew tired from being in such an unfamiliar position. You shut your eyes, but all at once the sensation on your breasts was removed as Obi Wan straightened his posture and finished ripping off your shirt. It came over your head quickly and was tossed to the side as if it were nothing.

“Can I have my hands back?” You giggled, breathless as he gazed at you.

He left soft, sweet kisses on the inside of your arms, his eyes twinkling as he had you paralyzed by the Force. “Not yet.” He said, and you didn’t have time to read the expression on your face before his lips were on your breasts again. You pushed your hips up against his chest as he continued, whining as he bit down gently onto your nipples. His lips descended down the center of your stomach, leaving slow, wet kisses on your skin before pausing just above the waistline of your pants. His blue eyes finally blinked up at you, and he was smirking.

Your cunt was throbbing so damn hard you wondered if he could feel it at this point. “Please,” You breathed. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet,” Obi Wan repeated before curling his fingertips around the hem of the fabric and dragging it down your thighs.

“This...isn’t fair.” You grunted as you tried to pull your wrists from their restraint. It was no use, it felt like your arms were paralyzed in this position. Your pajama pants were now being thrown to the side just as your shirt was, and the general was leaving small pecks up the length of your legs whilst holding strong eye contact.

“Please, general - “ your cunt felt like it was on fire when he lifted his chin to look at you.

“Did you...seriously just call me ‘general’ in this setting?” He paused, chuckling.

“Well, I - “ you were flustered and frustrated at this point. “I don’t know, what should I call you?!” You had snapped. He only grinned with a shrug before he continued, pulling at your skin with his teeth.

He dug his fingers into your sides, and in between slow kisses, he said, “Doesn’t matter...whatever feels...most...comfortable.”

You thought about it for a moment. Yeah, you supposed referring to him as General Kenobi was a bit strange as he was actively stripping you of your clothing. But it still didn’t feel right calling him Obi Wan, either. You weren’t sure why.

Your wrists were finally released as his lips reached the corner of your inner thigh just below your flaming heat. Your panties still hugged your hips when Kenobi glanced up at you, seeming like he had forgotten to hold your arms in place.

Without giving him any chance of reaction, you slid out from under him and pounced on him like a fucking animal. You giggled and he shared your smile as you sat on him and began to rid him of his robes.

Once they were off and you finally got to shower every possible centimeter of his skin with kisses, but he was quick to flip you back over so you were trapped beneath him again. You struggled to get atop of him with a grunt, but it was useless. He was already pinning your wrists to the sheets again and barricading you with his own weight.

“Behave.” Again, his voice rumbled right into your ear, hot and thick as he nipped at your earlobe. In response you arched your back into him and whined, digging your fingernails into his back.

“Let me touch you - “ you grunted. “I want to...to make you feel good. I can make you feel so good, Master.” You moaned, letting the words fall from your mouth without even a second thought. In an instant, his fingers were around your chin and you were being forced to look into his pretty eyes.

“What did you call me?” He asked.

You giggled. “You heard me.”

A minute went by before he moved his hand from your chin downwards, slowly tightening around your neck. “Say it again.” You smiled and tilted your head back, shutting your eyes and moaning the word again.

“Master.”

He let out a sound similar to a growl before he rolled over, positioning yourself on top of his lap. You could feel his large erection beneath you, and it was in the perfect spot as you rolled your hips forward and crouched down, allowing your lips to meet his.

He kissed you aggressively, placed one hand on the back of your head and forced you into him while the other snaked underneath the fabric of your panties, finding your clit almost instantly. You whimpered against his lips and continued to grind against his cock before using your own hands to remove yourself from the barricading fabric.

You were so desperate to feel him inside of you. He grabbed your chin again and forced your lips to part, staring at you with dark eyes and a wicked grin as he pressed the pad of his thumb to your lower lip. “So desperate for it, aren’t you?” He mumbled.

You huffed and tossed your underwear to the side before pressing your lips against his ear and murmuring, “Can you feel how wet I am for you, Master?”

He grunted and moved his hands to your hips, forcing them down onto his cock. You rocked them forward, letting the tip slide over your clit and through your slick folds with a moan. Fuck, this felt good. You lapped at his earlobe and giggled before continuing. “Just imagine how good it’ll feel when you put it in, so warm and wet and tight - “

“You’ll want to shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work.” He growled, and a wild grin spread over your face before you positioned him below your entrance.

You took him in slowly with a long moan and straightened you back, your breasts high and prominent for him to see. “Fuck,” you moaned. Your eyebrows furrowed as he filled you up.

Obi Wan grunted. “Stars, can’t you go any quicker?” He was frustrated as you giggled again.

“I think this feels fucking good.” You moaned again. “Your cock is so - “ you were cut off by his hand on your throat, forcing him down to his own face. He didn’t say anything, just silently forced your lips against his. It made you lose control of your pace, plunging down onto his entire length at once, drawing moans from both of you as you kissed.

“That’s better.” He mumbled against you. “Now do it again.”

You brought your hips up once more and slithered your tongue into his mouth, allowing them to fall back down, your cunt swallowing him whole in one stroke. Just as you started to kiss his neck again, you were flipped onto your back for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Would you just let me - “ The familiar grip on your chin cut you off, and your eyes were forced into his. With his other hand, he brought your knees to your chest and positioned himself at your entrance. He absolutely rammed himself inside of you without any issues, and your eyes widened when you gasped.

“I thought...I told you...to behave.” Obi Wan grunted in between his thrusts. Your fingers found their grip in the sheets beside you. Your back arched and you moaned while he pumped himself in and out of your wet cunt.

“If this is what I get for misbehaving…” you panted, tears pricking at your eyes from them being shut so tight. “...then I guess I’ll have to do it more often.”

General Kenobi let out a low groan as he continued thrusting into you, remaining his quick, hard rhythm. Your eyes met his as the two of you moaned, and his hand found its way back into the roots of your hair as he muttered, “Say it.”

“Master,” you mewled as he tugged on your hair, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he thrusted into you. “Master, your cock feels so good - “ his thumb was on your lip again when he interrupted you.

“Such filthy words coming from this pretty little face,” he murmured. “You like being dirty, don’t you? You enjoy being choked when you misbehave, hmm?”

You didn’t respond, your eyebrows only curved up when you moaned. His hips rolled forward and his cock was still sliding in and out of your folds. “Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, Master.” Your hand released its grip on the sheets and traveled down in between your legs to gently play with your clit, but Obi Wan stopped you, removing your wrist sharply.

“If you want it, beg for it.” He said slowly.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “Please play with it - Master, please just touch my clit and…” you trailed off with whine as you felt his thumb slowly circling around it, agonizingly slow and so, so hot. You whimpered and rolled your head back into the pillow, tangling your hair against the cotton.

“Does that feel good, darling? Tell me how it feels.”

“Yes, fuck, it feels so good,” You panted, your eyes squeezing shut again. “It feels so fucking good, I might...I might cum,” you continued in between whimpers and moans. “Master - please let me cum.”

“Good girl.” He rasped before removing his thumb completely. You let out a sob as he pulled his length out from you, watching as he began to stroke himself when he lowered his head between your legs. “Such a good girl, asking for my permission.” He murmured before sliding his tongue up your heat ever so slowly, stopping at your clit to circle around it.

You whined, bucking your hips against him, grinding on his face as you babbled. “Fuck...this feels so good, your tongue, shit, I want your cock again - “

“You’ll have to wait for it,” he mumbled against you. Whining, you sat up and propped yourself on your elbows as you panted. You were a mess, and you continued to plead with him until he had enough of it and grabbed you by your shoulders. He forced you onto the floor, sitting on your knees as he sat on the mattress in front of you.

“If you won’t shut your mouth, I’ll just have to do it for you.” He muttered before pushing your head down onto his large cock. You let out a satisfied moan and made sure he was staring at you, remaining eye contact. You lifted a hand to stroke the base as your tongue swirled slowly around the tip, bobbing your head back and forth steadily.

Obi Wan moaned and shut his eyes. “Stars.” He murmured.

You released the tip with an audible pop, allowing a string of drool to fall from the edge of your lower lip. “It feels good, doesn’t it Master?” You planted your tongue to the base of his shaft and slooooowly dragged it up prior to rolling it over the tip and taking him into your mouth again. His breath hitched in his throat.

“You’re so filthy, do you know that? You’re so...good at this, you must have...had - practice...Stars, pretty girl...how are you so good at this?” He mumbled, grunting and moaning between the words that spilled from his mouth.

Again, his shaft left your mouth and you spit on your palm before using it to stroke him up and down. You blinked at him all innocent and doe-like. “I like it when you talk to me like that. Will you cum on my face, Master?”

Obi Wan blinked and grunted, thrusting his hips up into your palm. “You’re obscene.”

“But you like it, don’t you?” You planted a kiss on his tip before gliding your hands along his thighs and rising to your feet. You leaned forward and lifted his chin using your index and middle finger, smiling. “You like seeing me like this. You like making me your dirty little slut, don’t you, Master?” You blinked again and smiled sweetly before swinging your leg around his lap, straddling him.

He was absolutely mesmerized. “Don’t give me that look.”

You did it again, smiled softly. “Or what?” You challenged.

Just as your cunt was about to swallow his length again, you were thrown onto your back strongly and the general’s hand was once again tightened around your neck. His lips were on your ear and his fingers were dancing around your clit as he rammed himself inside of you. Your eyes filled with tears when you cried out, savoring the sudden sensations engulfing you. You moaned, feeling your voice vibrate against his hand.

“I like punishing you, you know.” His voice was low, and you moaned as he licked your ear. “You’re such a good girl when you want to be.”

“This isn’t...much of a punishment.” You grunted. He bit down onto your earlobe and you whimpered.

“Oh, we haven’t gotten to that part yet.” He rasped into your ear. His pace quickened and his fingers felt glorious against your clit. Your movements synced with his perfectly. You could feel yourself quickly approaching your climax as he kissed the skin on your neck, hitting all the perfect places when he pumped into you. It was as if he knew exactly what you wanted and how you wanted it.

You felt yourself caving in and desire dripped from your tongue as you moaned, “I’m gonna cum.” Just as the words fell, everything stopped. Obi Wan’s fingers and his cock left your cunt all at once, and you let out a cry just before his eyes met yours.

“Like I said before,” his lips brushed against your own as he purred into your mouth. “We hadn’t gotten there yet.”

You already had come down almost completely from your previous euphoric state when his fingers glided inside of you. You writhed and moaned under his touch and Stars, this man sure knew who to put his hands to work. When he lowered his lips back down to your clit, you thought you would just about lose your mind. “Fuck.” You moaned. “Please, Master. Let me finish.” You pleaded.

“Quiet.” He muttered before continuing. You obeyed and only continued to moan under his force, biting your lip and rocking your hips against his face as he pleasured you. His free hand slithered up your body and intertwined his fingers with your own as he worked in between your legs. You squeezed his hand so hard that you thought it would just about snap off. Obi Wan finally paused, blinking up at you from in between your legs.

“Are you going to behave now, darling?” He asked, still slowly working his fingers in and out of your cunt as he spoke. You nodded quickly.

“Say it.”

“Y-yes. I’m going to behave, I-I’ll be a good girl for you.” You said then added, “Master.” The general chuckled before instructing you to get on your elbows and knees, to which you obliged and rested your front end onto a cushy pillow. You arched your back, ass raised, and giggled when you received a slap on your ass before Kenobi positioned himself.

He grabbed at and pulled your hair, raising your head so you could see him out of the corner of your eye. He planted a kiss onto your temple before murmuring,

“Pretty, pretty girl.”

Then, he rammed into you so hard and unexpectedly that you gasp and cry out his name. He clearly doesn’t catch it, and you shut your eyes as a single tear falls, continuing to cry out and whimper beneath him. Fuck, it’s amazing, and it’s everything you had ever fantasized it would be. You swear you see stars as he continues, pumping in and out of you again, again, and again...this position seems so much better than before, you thought. His grip is so tight on your hips that you think it may leave bruises, but hell, you love it. You want him to leave marks on you.

You think of all the times before that were filled with nothing but harmless flirting and charm. Now, everything will be different. You giggled at the thought of changing in the morning and seeing the bruises he left on your skin. You could feel yourself approaching your climax just at the thought of knowing that in this moment, you were his.

You almost didn’t want it to end, but you were so desperate to finish after having it ripped from you at the very edge. You were sweating, panting, and groaning the word “Master,” over and over again. “I’m gonna cum,” you said heavily.

“Go ahead.” Obi Wan seemed to gasp. Another tear fell down your cheek and you cried out louder than ever before as you crashed down onto him, all around him, everywhere. Absolutely fucking everywhere, and if it weren’t for the Jedi’s weight holding you up, you would’ve collapsed down into the mattress already. It hit like a fucking train wreck, and he remained his steady pace as your walls closed in onto his cock. You assumed he could feel your shaking, and when your breath heaved in and out of your lungs as you slumped against the pillow beneath you, you smiled a lazy smile.

The sound of Obi Wan Kenobi grunting and letting out a long, high-pitched moan as he came undone inside of you was just about the sexiest thing in the entire galaxy. He collided into the bed beside you, panting as he stared at the ceiling. You finally allowed your hips to fall and rested on your stomach, you head turned to face him. Beads of sweat rolled across his skin when he looked at you, and your thighs still quivered against the sheets.

He dragged two of his fingers softly underneath your chin. “Beautiful,” was all he could make out as he huffed beside you. You shut your eyes, that lazy smile still plastered to your face.

“Do you...think anybody heard us?” You asked, opening your eyes again. You gazed over his beard and his strong features as he peered at you.

“Oh, without a doubt.” He began to chuckle.

“Whoops.” You giggled. He rolled over and pressed his lips to yours briefly before responding.

“If I’m being honest, I really couldn’t care any less.” His voice was husky when he smiled as you pulled him back down, kissing him again and again until you fell asleep in your blissful state.

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

Tags: @ifvckedurmom @thingsistan @lizajane3

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 2

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Two: Interrogations

Historically, it is well known for males to experience the mating bond more viscerally, though this is no strict criterion. For example, in the case of two males being bonded, the mating bond appears to be less demanding and settles with more ease. It is males mated to females who appear to struggle. There are many theories for this, such as male/female bonding resulting in strong offspring which drives the males to copulate. Some even argue that the male’s desire comes from the Mother’s lover himself, who’s believed to have taken fire into his soul in order to reach the Motherland and mate her, and it is a bead of this fire which awakens in males when they feel the mating bond catalysed. As such, we find there being many social customs regarding mated males, such as being wary of their ease to anger and protectiveness and their overtly increased sex drive which-

“Good book?” Feyre flopped down next to Elain, Nyx having just been placed in his cradle which appeared more like a cage given the mesh wiring over the top, ‘just so he doesn’t get any ideas about flying away’, Feyre had grinned.

“It’s okay,” Elain smiled at her sister as she marked her place and set it down.

“Oh,” Feyre grinned as she eyed the title, “Interested in the bond are we?” She was just teasing, but Elain couldn’t stop the flush in her cheeks, particularly given her recent discovery on just how, physical, the bond was.

“Well considering I do have mate, I thought it was about time I looked into it.”

“You can ask me anything,” Feyre smiled kindly. “I mean, technically you could ask Nesta too but, she still isn’t the biggest fan of Lucien.” Even hearing his name on someone else’s tongue sent a bolt of energy through Elain.

“Well, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Are they really supposed to be your soulmate?”

“Well, yes and no. That’s the problem with mating bonds, they sort of mould themselves around the two people it’s attached to. It’s different with everyone. Like me and Rhys, we have a really clear mental communication, I can talk to him even if I was on the other side of Prythian, but that’s because we’re both dementias and the bond’s playing to that strength.

“Nesta and Cassian, well, I can’t speak for them, but it seems they connect on world view. Their lives are inherently interlinked with death and that’s what connects them…amongst, other, things,” Feyre giggled, “It really is different for everyone. And sometimes, yes, the bond connects two people who don’t seem to fit with one another, like Rhys’ parents for example. I don’t know if you’ve got to this section yet,” Feyre nodded to the book, “But some see the bond as not restrained to time. That’s why you and Lucien felt the bond snap into place even before you knew each other. Some people think that when you have ‘poor’ pairings, they not really bad matches but rather, the bond saw the two for their potential rather than what they were at the time.”

Elain’s brow furrowed. She’d wanted to read the book to make herself feel better, she’d never admit it to herself, but she was somewhat looking for a big flashing sign that pointed to Lucien and said ‘He’s your soulmate! You’re a perfect match! You’ll never have to worry about be alone again!’. But reading the book had only made it more complicated. The reality was, Lucien was to have a significant role in her life, whether she wanted him to or not.

“But…I don’t know…” Elain rolled her neck, “Is it worth it?”

“Is what worth it? The bond?”

“No…well, yes. I mean,” Elain thought for a moment, “I just don’t understand how the universe could expect me to fight for someone who I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I do see how that’s a bit unfair but, do you not think the bond’s doing that on purpose?”

“What do you mean?

“Well, it looks like the bond is demanding you take a leap of faith. Giving you Lucien the minute you set eyes on him is, well, it changed your whole world, right?”

“I know,” Elain huffed.

“No, what I mean is…maybe that’s the point?” Feyre was now more talking to herself. “Maybe…” Feyre trailed off before turning and eyeing her sister up and down.

“What?” Elain implored, and Feyre just shook her head, deep in thought.

“It’s just, I’ve been trying to figure it out y’know, you and Lucien, I think we all have.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, it’s just, he’s…well he’s loud and flirty and he can’t shut up for the life of him, it’s why he’s missing that damn eye. And you’re quiet and shy, and you just, you care about everything but…” Feyre was grinning now.

“What?”

“No, no, never mind. I just…” Feyre only smiled wider.

“No, I’m not going to say!” And then Feyre was up, collecting empty mugs from the coffee table.

“Feyre, you can’t leave, you haven’t helped me!”

“I know, I know, look, truth time,” Feyre turned back around, her smile now replaced by her High Lady look, “You’re right, you don’t know if it’s worth it. You and Lucien might turn out like Rhys’ parents, or worse…but he is your mate, and he’s not going anywhere.”

“So, what, I just proposition him next time he’s here?” Elain sighed, running a hand through her hair, feeling the same kernel of disappointment in her gut whenever she thought of Lucien on the other side of the country, avoiding the mating bond, avoiding her.

“Or you could go to him?” Elain snapped her head to her sister, who was wearing an easy smile.

“What?”

“You could go to the human lands and stay with him and his, what’s it, ‘Band of Exiles’.”

“What, just show up?”

“Actually, it’s not such a terrible idea,” Again, Feyre was now talking to herself, “Lucien’s been struggling to get the humans on board and you, well you might be perfect for the job. You understand how humans work and you had to deal with paperwork from father, not to mention the fact that quite literally no one can say no to you-”

“Lucien can,” Elain grumbled without thinking and Feyre grinned at her with a stupid, all-knowing smile.

“Elain, if you wanted, I’m sure you could have Lucien crawling around on all fours.” Elain looked away from her sister, ignoring the fact that the image popped into her mind before she could stop it, and especially ignoring the way her whole body seemed to flush in response.

“The only problem might be getting Rhys on board,” Feyre’s mind appeared to be working a mile a minute. “With what happened with Briallyn he’s a bit more, well, Rhysand than usual. And you know how he sees you.” Yes, the big brotherly talks had been slightly more regular given Nyx’s arrival. Elain supposed it was Rhysand’s subconscious way of reaching out.

“I’ll be fine if Lucien is there,” Elain shrugged non-committedly, though something zipped the length of her spine as she spoke his name aloud. One thing Elain, and everyone else could be certain of, is that Lucien would keep her safe.

“Look at you trying to manipulate around your High Lord.”

“Not manipulate-”

“I know, I know,” Feyre grinned as she peered over the edge of Nyx’s crib. “Look, on a serious note, there is work that needs doing down in the human lands if you’re up for it. After Briallyn we need a stronger base to represent the fae in the mortal world. Some more eyes and ears wouldn’t hurt and, quite frankly, whilst Lucien knows exactly how to work a court of fae, I don’t know how well he’s faring with councils of humans.”

Elain thought for a moment, truly considering what it would mean if she were to take on this role. It would mean accepting responsibility, being held accountable if she made a mistake, one that couldn’t fixed with some new seeds and freshly turned soil. She’d be on the other side of the world, away from her sisters – away from Nesta – for the first time, well, ever.

“I…” Elain began softly, “I think I’d like to go.”

“Really?” Despite Feyre’s enthusiasm in discussing Elain’s potential in leaving, it was clear that she was still mostly expecting Elain to pass on the opportunity.

“I can’t tend to my little gardens forever,” Elain shrugged, “With Lucien there I should be perfectly safe and, well, it’s human territory. I know those lands, arguably better than you and Nesta.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Feyre nodded furiously, though she seemed to not really be listening to her older sister, her mind was already helping Elain pack her dresses. “I’ll speak with Rhysand and sort out the particulars.”

“Will you,” Elain blushed without meaning to, “Will you warn Lucien? That I’m coming?” Feyre shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I don’t have to. Technically, as his High Lady I can do whatever I want, and he just has to roll with it.”

“Okay,” Elain let loose a breath, “Don’t tell him then. I’d just…I’m not sure. I suppose I’d just rather not spook him.”

“Whatever you say sis,” Feyre grinned, and Elain allowed her own lips to mirror her sisters, the excitement and reality of the adventure she was about to undertake truly setting in. Feyre turned to leave.

“Oh Feyre…let’s not tell Nesta…at least not till I’m already gone.”

***

“Hello, earth to Lucien?”

“What? Oh...sorry, go on,” Lucien muttered, shifting is attention back to Vassa whom he was supposed to be chatting to. This was their routine, when the sun finally dipped under the horizon and Vassa returned to her mortal form, she’d waltz into the manor before disappearing upstairs to change from the cloak she left out for herself into a queen’s gown. Today she’d come down wearing a deep crimson dress made of velvet, grumbling about how the storm that was currently beating against the windows, had quite literally ruffled her feathers. The evening was then to be spent in the Manor’s sitting room, sprawled on velvet couches as Jurian informed Vassa of the recent developments regarding the human councils, and Lucien told her of the fae lands.

Normally, Lucien would last till the early hours of the morning before leaving Vassa to whatever activities she wished to complete before the sun rose and her body was changed back into that of a firebird. But these past few nights Lucien had caught himself staying awake till almost sunrise, only getting an hour or two sleep before he was up again, his body alive with energy as he strode out into the woods in the early morning light.

Everything about Lucien felt unsettled and alive, and it had been that way since the previous week when Lucien had woke to his mate’s tears running down his cheeks. What could’ve upset her so badly? Had something happened at the Night Court? He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for a note from Rhysand or Feyre informing him of a terribly tragic event that had occurred when he was on the other side of the world. Even if nothing had happened, it could of, and Elain could’ve been seriously hurt. What was he doing on this side of the world? He should be there, even if she didn’t know what she wanted, at least he could keep her safe while she thought. But with no note, he didn’t know why sweet Elain was so agonisingly sad, and there was no reason besides the bond’s invasion of privacy for him to see her. But it seemed that he couldn’t relax until he found the cause of her pain. Found it and burned it to ashes.

“Lucien!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dinner, tomorrow evening, Nolan Manor – Mother did you get any of that?” Vassa’s eyes were light and her tone teasing, but Lucien was feeling more beast than man with his bond so wound up.

“No offence, Vassa, but I think you might be finally losing it if you think I’d be interested in dinner at the Nolan’s.” Lucien rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension as he looked back down at the book he’d been pretending to read for the past hour. He could feel Vassa’s eyes on him, assessing him as she always did whenever he came into conversation, which was far too often for his liking.

“Are you still on that?” Vassa eventually huffed, tucking her legs up under herself on the armchair. Lucien just raised a brow at her. Had anything changed? Was Graysen any less of a dickhead? If not, then yes, he supposed he was still on that.

“Our dear Lucien’s a mated male, Vassa,” Jurian quipped without raising his head from his paperwork. “It’s how these things work.”

“But it’s not really fair on Graysen is it?” Vassa flicked a fiery strand of hair over her shoulder.

“Not fair?” Lucien ground the two words out, feeling something animalistic rear its head inside of him. But beyond the primal urges of the bond and any threats to it, Lucien did genuinely dislike the boy. What he did to Elain was beyond cruel, and if he had done that to anyone Lucien would’ve still disliked the boy, granted he might not be baring his teeth at Vassa as he was doing now.

“He did give us the manor, Lucien,” the queen’s voice taunted him.

“One act of kindness doesn’t make him any less of an asshole,” Lucien’s own voice was low and daunting, as though he were daring Vassa to make another comment. Lucien hadn’t intended for his tone to turn brutal and dark, but Vassa clearly had no education in the expectations of a mated male.

“No, but he’s still the asshole putting a roof over our heads,” Vassa sighed, setting her book down. “Does it really upset you?”

“What?”

“Having him help us?”

“We don’t need his help.”

“No,” Vassa cocked her head, “But it’s certainly been of great use.”

“You like him?” Lucien spat, feeling something sour flood his gums as he pulled on his inner leash. Vassa was his friend. Vassa was supposed to be his friend, and Lockhart Manor was supposed to be the place in which he could escape from the demands of this bond.

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly, “In fact, all he’s been to me is kind and accommodating. Why should I have a problem with him?”

“You know why.” Something feral was awakening in Lucien as he spat those three words at the queen, and in response to the autumn son’s anger, the fire flared dangerously, filling the room with the sound of snapping wood.

“Really?” Vassa’s eyes widened slightly as she assessed Lucien, evidentially amused by his grip on the chair’s armrests and the deathly look in his eye. “That girl can do this to you when she hasn’t even shown her face in-”

“Vassa,” Jurian’s sing-song voice curled into the air from where he was hunched over the worktable, signing off contracts, “Whilst it’s delicious to poke the beast, you can only go so long before it’ll bite.”

“Maybe that’s what I was hoping for,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly as she inspected her nails. Lucien just glared into the fire, done with this conversation and done with his friends, at least for the night. Sometimes they forgot that he wasn’t like them, that he was fae, and he more or less operated in an entirely different world to them. He couldn’t blame them though, sometimes he forgot too.

Talking of Graysen had Lucien’s thoughts once more swirling of Elain. Though there was no concern in these thoughts, just admiration. He was picturing her in the cream gown she’d worn when he’d come one day to hand deliver a stack of reports to Rhysand. It was made of cotton and lace, the same hearty materials so often found in towns of Autumn. It was so unlike the favoured revealing cuts of Night Court fashion, and so Elain in every sense. The soft gold and white colours, the layered skirts and fluttering sleeves. Looking at her as she tucked herself into a small ball on a sofa, a hefty book balanced on her lap, Lucien had wished that he’d met Elain when she was human, when she was happy and content. Maybe then she would just see him for, well, him. Not a reminder of everything terrible that had happened to her.

“I’m sorry about prodding Lucien,” Vassa smiled at him, pulling him from his thoughts as her freckled cheeks dimpled. “Can I make it up to you by letting you beat me at cards?” She was baiting him, daring him to bite back that no one ‘let’ Lucien do anything but, tonight Lucien was tired. Of everything.

“I’m tapping out,” was all Lucien said in response, standing from his armchair and throwing his book down behind him. The storm was now torrential, and Lucien welcomed the chaos, somewhat comforted by the idea of lying down in the dark and listening to the rain batter against the windows as he brooded himself to sleep.

So, Lucien set off for the stairs, happy to leave his friends to themselves for the rest of the night, but he’d only managed to cross the room before a short, shy knock reverberated from the front door and sent a wave of cautious silence and shock throughout the room.

#elucien #elucien fic #elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain and lucien #elain/lucien #elain x lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien/elain #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fffaf

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uncurlinglikeflowers · 4 years ago

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Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well.

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked.

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things.

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure.

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance.

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before.

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him.

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay.

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways.

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts.

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most.

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval.

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family.

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general.

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles.

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek.

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life?

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride.

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today.

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process.

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection.

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us.

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!

#pride #gay #lgbt #journaling #love #queer #coming out #coming out stories #queer trauma #adolescent trauma #self love #healing #trauma

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talkfantasytome · 3 years ago

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Hiiii.

I saw someone talking in your last post that Azriel and Cassian had the same thinking regarding "partners" but here is the difference, while Azriel could only think about satisfying herself and while she was jealous of the mate bond, Cassian showed wanting something more from Nesta, nothing of them was just desire, he only got with her completely when she accepted him and wanted to have something with him. He had been showing that interest since ACOWAR.

Azriel had the opportunity to do that and failed, and it's not because he can't think ahead, we were in his head, it's his thought that we read that says he hadn't thought anything beyond that with her. He even fails at the moment when he should say something that connects him romantically to her, he makes it very clear that the THIRD BROTHER was GIVEN to someone else. There is no romantic code in that. Other than that the situation for both is different we never read anything about Cassian wanting to have a bond mate, Azriel on the contrary expected his and Mor's to click. Even he didn't answer about her, no thought was passed on the spot and he changed the conversation. In ACOFAS people like to ignore but his reaction when Mor walks in is of a person who still likes her.

The only people who had negative reactions to his part with gwyn were the Elriels, the rest everyone loved.

I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but comment.

It's okay, you're welcome to comment. 🙂

You're right, Cassian did show something more. There was romantic coding, there was true feeling beyond something physical, and you got the sense he did want more from Nesta than sex, even if that's all he could have hoped for that particular day. And the thoughts he has about her are about her, as a person. I pulled a few quotes that I think really represent it:

None of it had been pleasant, every syllable from her mouth barbed and vicious, and . . . Cassian huffed a breath, hot tendrils ripping away in the wind. He couldn’t tell what was worse: that he’d thought so much about it, or that he ’d run here so damn fast.

It was her words, his last interaction with her he thought about so much. Whereas Az thinks about having sex with E\ain.

Where the sound of the flames might cover their voices. Clever girl.

He observes Nesta moving them, and thinks about how clever she is for setting them up by the fire. That's an admiration of her brain, not her body. In the other chapter, Az observes and understands why E\ain is sneaking back down to give him his gift, but he doesn't admire it. It's just fact to him.

His temper rose with dizzying speed at the words, the absurd perfection of her. A blade given form—that’s what she was.

Earlier he mentions her perfect face, here he says "perfection of her"...not her face, not her body, but her. She, overall, is a blade given form, and it's perfect to him.

But he did take a step closer, bracing a hand on the mantel, and leaned in close enough to breathe in that scent of hers.

It hit him in the gut so hard he could barely focus, and it took five centuries of training to make himself meet her eyes rather than let his own roll back into his head, to keep himself poised there instead of burying his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder, to keep from moving closer, from . . . touching.

It's not her physical body, but her scent that intensifies Cassian's desire. Azriel only observes E\ain's scent once it's full of arousal, which, to him, means he can try for something. The only other time we hear about it is when he thinks about the scent of her mating bond. But Cassian, even Nesta's scent - her own, not-yet-aroused scent sends him over the edge.

And that's just from the first section of Cassian's POV.

Later, when Cassian goes to smell her neck (sounds so funny 😂), it's not her physical body drawing him in. Az's thoughts are all about E\ain's skin and neck and other physical aspects. What was in Cassian's mind before he "just moved"?

And in those blue-gray eyes, he could see the thoughts swirling in her as if they were smoke under glass. The cunning mind at work behind that face—the one he hadn’t been able to get out of his head these weeks.

Her mind, her eyes, thoughts swirling behind them. Arguably both could be seen as "physical" descriptions, and yet Cassian is still admiring something beyond that, something that truly makes Nesta who she is. Not just the body she has.

Of course, Cassian can be problematic and heavily focus on the physical too, but you see in his thoughts admiration for Nesta as a person. Not what she could be for him, but who she truly is.

(Please note that some tags are used specifically in an attempt to let audiences know general themes that may come out regardless of actual content. Just so those who don't want to see certain content don't have. 🙂)

#nessian #cassian #antielriel #anti elriel

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years ago

Text

Wʜᴀᴛ I'ᴍ Tʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ Aʙᴏᴜᴛ

“Go ahead and cry little girl... I know how much it matters to you...I'd do whatever I could do. I'd run away and hide with you.”

Word Count: 4176

“He doesn’t care what she tells him or what they talk about, he just loves to hear the sound of her voice. Even better if she has to tell him twice. On the other hand, this could insinuate that he either has a bad memory, is distracted, or is so infatuated with her he can’t concentrate on what she’s telling him.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Everybody on the Mantis seemed to be filled to the brim with something that could never be alleviated.

Things stung like a sunburn... one that was plastered to their brains and wouldn’t go away. Even when the sun would implode in on itself six billion years later, the pink marks and scars wouldn’t fade. All their problems ran so deep- arguably too deep. What could they have done but sat and waited for it to leave them?

Greez Dritus couldn’t stop gambling. The rush of it all... the chance of losing and dying and escaping it each time made him feel invincible. Even when he would lose, it felt so good. It felt right, fated. Godly, even. It nearly destroyed his relationships... almost got one of his crew members killed... but Greez had come back to save him! Not that he needed saving... but it counted for something, didn’t it?

[It didn’t.]

Cere Junda did what she could to let the guilt go. First, she tried confronting it. Then she tried burying it down. Neither of these made her feel any better. She tried meditating, eating, starving, sleeping, ignoring, embracing, and redirecting the guilt. Anything to defer the pain, instead of accepting it. But the more Cere deferred, the more the guilt grew. And the more the guilt grew, the more Cere shrank.

Merrin felt angry too often. Even for her own liking. It was just that, sometimes if she thought too long, or shut her eyes too tight, she could remember her childhood. She could remember being patient and small, just as willing to learn as her fellow nightsisters. She could remember that all was well. But Merrin could also remember the day the armored man came with the droids, and how she wouldn’t have to be patient until she was left alone with no one but the dead.

And Cal Kestis... Cal Kestis might’ve had the worst of it. The man suffered of no addictions, nor physical ailments. On the contrary, in fact. His body was broad and promising from work as a Rigger. Flexible and taut. It was his mind and emotions that was couldn’t seem to function properly.

But it was different from Cere and Merrin’s trauma. It was more intensified, focused, raw on both guilt and loss at once. Cal had been in a complete state of agony since he was twelve years old, since he had held his master’s hand while he died. Master Topal had died for him, after all. Maybe it was for the best that Cal be the one to live with the blame.

Cal thought about this every day. He thought about what he not only could’ve done, but should’ve done. He thought about all the people he’d never be able to love again, and why he didn’t deserve it anyway. Maybe he did have an addiction. Maybe Cal Kestis just loved making himself feel so bad over something nobody but himself hated him for.

It’s not like you were much better.

You felt incredibly heavy with the weight of all the secrets you’d been asked to keep. Strained with all the tapestries of misery you’d been tasked to weave. You were a Slicer, which wasn’t the most morally corrupt job, but it certainly made you feel morally corrupt yourself. Because you doubled as a bounty hunter, you were forced to choose yourself over others. Usually, yourself over the people and things you were turning in.

Once, you had sliced into a mans datapad in search of information you had been tasked with deleting. On this datapad, you found names. Names of children, anywhere between the ages of eight to sixteen, sold off into various different rings. A girl named Aheka Shyn was training to be a medic when she was abruptly kidnapped and sent off to make spice. A boy named Garreth was only fourteen when he’d been stolen from his junk home planet, instead to be sent to an Imperial fighting ring. And you had desperately wanted to send the man to the authorities, arrest him yourself- anything. But if you didn’t delete what you had found, you would’ve starved to death that night.

So you deleted what you found.

There were several more occasions like this, and all of them haunted your memory. You were not a bad person, or even a neutral person. You were much worse. You were a bystander, a failure, the farthest anyone could get from a hero. And you refused to blame anybody but yourself for this revelation.

You would not hate your father, nor blame your actions or lack thereof on the issues he had given you. You would not blame your mother, your brother, your sister- anyone you may or may not have in your life. You wouldn’t blame the first boy who ever broke your heart, or the first girl who had ever let your hands wander against her for false fame. It was you, all you, and if you wanted otherwise, you should’ve given otherwise.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

There are a lot of people in this world, and the next, who find sex to be pleasurable. Sometimes it’s for selfless reasons, and sometimes it’s for selfish reasons. Sometimes it’s simply because it’s one of the many cures for boredom. Maybe the purpose for your particular instance didn’t matter very much. It was pleasurable for you and Cal, and that was enough.

You’d liked Cal for a long time. It was difficult not to. First thing you knew about him was that he had a great taste in music. Second thing you knew about him was that he didn’t know when to ask and not ask questions. The third, and most obvious thing you knew about him, was that he was a good person. From anyone’s point of view but his own, he was someone to be admired and respected. His whole life, the entirety of all occupations he’d had, were based around helping others. And you knew this was further proof that you weren’t good enough for him, but that night was the night that you couldn’t resist any longer.

Cal had given you his consent, and you had given him yours. Both of you were worn out and too honest from the events of the long day, but mentally sober enough to be clear in your mindsets. You knew what was happening. No drugs, no alcohol, no manipulation. You’d found yourself in his quarters while everyone else slept for one reason or another, and then you’d done it.

The act hadn’t lasted long. Both of you were too excited at the heat and promise of intercourse from the time you’d gone without. Not because you couldn’t get intercourse, but because you couldn’t find it within yourselves to muster up enough trust for anybody to touch you so. But then something had snapped between you and Cal, resulting in the rather hot and aroused endeavor.

When it was done and the finger tipped shaped bruises were beginning to form on your hips, your first clear thought cut through like a knife. [“Oh, fuck.”] It wasn’t because there was a good chance that Cal had partially finished inside of you. It wasn’t because either of you had failed to think of any quick source of protection. It was because the consequences of your actions stretched beyond the physical ones.

Were you in a relationship now? What if you weren’t? What if you wanted to be, and he didn’t? What if he wanted to be, and you said otherwise? What if this meant nothing to him? You didn’t know if you believed Cal to be that type of person, but your work as a Bounty Slicer before joining the Mantis crew was enough to teach you to never assume anything about anyone. Where were either of you to go from here?

Cal Kestis was in no position to be in a relationship. He’d told you that tonight, not with his lips, but with his fingers. When people become intimate as you have, sometimes they manage to share more than just their bodies. Cal had managed to share with you just why and how you were wrong about his mental and emotional state. He’d revealed his anguish, his fear of losing people. He’d revealed that he was angry deep inside, that he’d had more than a few regrets in his life. You didn’t know how or why- you’d always been too respectful to ask about his past. But now you had some twisted form of confirmation.

You looked over at him, deep in thought. Cal’s skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat as he began to regain his breath. His hair was falling in soft, orange locks by his eyes. His lashes were long and dark brown, and seemed heavy as he blinked. You can see the old, mauve gash that stretches from his neck to his cheek like a line in a poem.

The boy raises his veined, left hand to push his hair back. With close eyes and a heaving chest, he says, “was it alright?”

In truth, it was much, much better than alright. Maybe you had low standards for not being touched for so long, but you really believed it was fantastic. A little blurred together from the pace and the clouded mind, but unmistakable in the sensations you’d earned from it. “Yes,” you managed to reply.

Cal sighed finally, eyes still shut. His breathing was beginning to calm down at this point, but your mind was still racing. With his green orbs still glued shut, Cal reaches his arm around you, and rolls to the side. In a fluid motion, without much effort at all really, Cal pulls you towards him until your bare back meets his bare chest.

Cal groans lazily a few more times as he adjusts his body around until he’s completely comfortable. He falls asleep in a matter of seconds. You on the other hand, feel tired, but buzzed. Almost like your deep dark thoughts have the same affect as caffeine.

What the hell was that? You cry out in your mind. What the hell are we going to do now?

But, despite the thoughts that created such anguish after such a pleasurable experience, you could feel yourself sinking into Cal’s embrace. His chest was warm and inviting, and broad enough to snuggle into it at any angle. You didn’t fight too hard to keep your eyes from coming to a stiff close.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This brings us to now, and why you’ve only said one word to Cal since that night.

It happened about four days ago at this point. You should’ve stayed and voiced your concerns to the boy, but you hadn’t. Instead you’d fallen into a dreamless sleep, only to wake up hours later when the Mantis shook coming out of hyperspace. Cal had removed his arm from around you and turned away, so it was easy to hop up, throw your undergarments on, and rush back to your room before anyone could deduce anything.

It wasn’t that you specifically regretted what you had done- you liked Cal. You liked Cal a lot, actually. The night you spent pressed against him only proved and accelerated that much. But you were an observant person, and you were observant enough to understand that you might’ve just ruined everything.

You weren’t good enough, or worthy enough to be with Cal. He wasn’t perfect, (which would bring you to your next point), but you were even farther from it. How many lives had you ruined just by trying to scrape by? Cal saved and bettered lives like it was nothing. He’d helped the partisans of Kashyyyk without asking for anything in return. He’d informed a single mother of her partners death with as much humility as he could. He’d shown enough empathy towards the Nightsister’s to make even Merrin budge. And you? You hated yourself for all the people you’d let down and would continue to let down into the next life.

But Cal wasn’t in any state of mind to love you. He wasn’t cruel, nor manipulative. But he was damaged and scared of something that scared you more. So how was he ever going to love you? How was he going to put up with you? To take on more suffering than he already struggled with? You couldn’t do that to him, and the option of breaking your heart seemed all the kinder.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You knew the moment you would be alone with him again, it could’ve gone one of two ways. Way One: that Cal would inform you that he loved you- falsely- and you would fall into his strong arms again and repeat your heated actions. On the other hand, there was Way Two: the way in which Cal told you he loved you, but he couldn’t go any further. Then it would come to an end. Both options upset you, so you decided to freeze yourself in time. Cal could neither lie, nor harm you so long as you kept away from him.

And, as stated above, this went on for four days.

So, there was a build up of frustration within the walls that you’d constructed around yourself. It was a stalemate, and it didn’t take long for you to crack.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It started slow- the welling of tears across your lower lash line, the flushing of your cheeks, the trembling of your lips. You tried to deny it from happening. You practically shouted at yourself not to cry. It was so stupid. So, so stupid. So... why was it happening?

It overwhelmed you quickly. Your eyes squinted, smearing the drops across your eyes and making your vision blurry. You bit your bottom lip to stop the trembling, but then your nose began to sniffle. It burned to inhale the snot again, and your lips started to quake again. You were lucky you were alone, you thought, before you let the tears fall.

It was night. Or, as nightly as space could get, you supposed. Greez had put the Mantis on autopilot, and hyperspace was whizzing by in indigo and baby blue streaks. White stars laced by in between lines, past the glass of the windows and the metal that had created the space.

All was asleep, except for you. So you allowed yourself to cry, but only if you held yourself to keeping the volume down. And you did. On the steps by the Latero’s terrarium. All of the seeds had grown into miniature plants and trees and flowers by now, blooming in vibrant colors of all kinds. The picture would’ve been so neat and beautiful, if not for your form shaking as you hunched over.

You should not have slept with Cal. Did you regret it? Not exactly. But you still felt so guilty about how much you cared for him, and the knowledge that he couldn’t have actually loved you. You might not have been able to love him too. There was just so many issues that you’d been able to pick up on, especially since you’d done the deed. But Greez had his gambling, Cere had her guilt, Merrin had her anger, and Cal had... Cal had everything. Everything you had shared, every burning mark he’d left on you, it all felt false. Like maybe it wasn’t out of emotions, but a wrong idea.

What a ridiculous thing to cry about, you thought as you cried. But you couldn’t stop. The tears were leaking from you in pearly beads, glistening and swirling with your stress. As much as you hated to admit it, it felt good to cry. You hadn’t done it in a long time, years maybe. There was more than just everything with Cal that was exiting your system along with the tears.

It was from the stress of your father, and whatever he may or may have not done. It was from the stress of work, the stress of your past. The guilt. All of it. It was pouring out of you silently, like the way that someone wrings out a washcloth. The sounds were minimal, and if anyone woke up and heard it, it could easily be mistaken for the little critter on board eating.

However, the person that woke up and heard the noises, didn’t mistake it for the little critter on board eating. In fact, he thought it sounded a lot like someone who was crying, or sniffling. Even if he hadn’t been so observant with his hearing, he could still sense the waves of sadness coming from just past the hallway. They echoed throughout his chest like a wind chime, rippling through him until he felt sad too.

Cal Kestis had a habit of taking on others people’s emotions. He had, even if it didn’t always shine through, an enormous amount of empathy. He had it even for his enemies, and it was the cause of a lot of lost fights.

The Jedi had gone to use the bathroom when his face fell. He looked to the doorway of the stairs for a while, seeing just the outline of someone from his view. He couldn’t make out who it was, but he was quick to rule out Merrin and Greez. This left Cere and yourself, but the hood of your jacket gave it away.

Maker, Cal had to urinate. He had to go so bad. But he went to you first without thinking about it, walking carefully as if not to disturb you. His boots were dropping on the floor louder than he would’ve liked, but it must not have been too loud, since you had not ceased your depressed bobbing or turned around to face him.

Cal didn’t like asking upset people if they were okay, because he was intelligent to understand that being upset was not equal to being okay. But his baby pink lips were already throwing the words out anyway, his voice croaking slightly from the sleep he’d woken up from. “Are you okay?” he ventured out.

Immediately, you turned around with a jump. Your cheeks were a deep shade of magenta, eye lashes long and dark and feathery. Eyes were sparkling beautifully, but for all the wrong reasons. One of your hands hastily wiped your face, as if you had simply sneezed. But Cal had already seen it. He knew you were crying, and you knew that he knew.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you said as your voice cracked slightly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You sure?” Cal asked as he took a hesitant step forward. “You don’t look okay.”

Your eyes flitted from him to the miniature tree in Greez’s terrarium. The branches were curled into detailed little swirls, with leaves sprouting in bushes of bright and dark greens alike. In truth, craning your neck to look over your shoulder strained it for you, and looking away alleviated it just as much as it alleviated seeing the boy. “I’m cool.”

You hoped he would leave it and go away. This was a bit of a long shot, and of course he didn’t. Because Cal Kestis had a big, caring heart that was probably corrupted, but big and caring nonetheless.

He walked nearer to you until finally another step would’ve resulted with him on the stairs too. You didn’t dare look up at him, keeping your eyes on the tree like your life depended on it.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Cal said in a very tired, but very soft and real voice.

You swallowed, trying to keep the tears from falling again. Your eyes had already begun to glisten again like a threat, and your breathing was becoming shaky. But you were a big girl, and you knew you could keep it together if you just kept your eyes on the tree. Where had Cal gotten it? Kashyyyk?

“I mean maybe I’m tired but... you don’t look okay,” he continued. You could feel his soft green eyes on you as your nostrils flared with anxiety. “You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m just having an off night,” you decided to say. Which, by the way, was a safe enough thing to respond with. It wasn’t necessarily a lie- you were having an off night. But somehow it still felt like it wasn’t the truth.

“Can you please look at me?” the boy said softly, though it felt somewhat dominant.

Maybe if you looked at him and kept telling yourself to keep it together, you could. Maybe it would help. Like confronting a dare or showing up an enemy. Was that how you saw Cal now? An enemy?

Your knees croaked in protest as you pushed yourself off the floor. When you stood at your full height, much lower than him due to being a step lower, you lost sight of the tree. Cal’s left shoulder was in the way, covered by a black shirt and dark blue poncho. You followed the seam of it down where his collarbone would be, up the neck to where you had left a few marks, around his jaw and finally to his eyes. They were piercing and begging, and you knew at once you shouldn’t have accepted the challenge of looking into them.

“Are you okay Y/N?” he repeats.

You bite your bottom lip as the tears well again, telling yourself to nod yes. But for some reason, the message doesn’t get from your brain to the nerves or muscles in your head, and instead it shakes no.

Cal reaches his arms around your shoulders again and pulls you into him until your head hits his chest. It’s a bit of a weird angle and position, but it feels nice to rest against something. He’s quick to notice your trembling and slowly eases his knees into a bend as you follow, though you’re more melting like putty.

You start crying again right before he hits the stairs. It’s a little louder than it was before Cal arrived, but only because he knows you feel more protected and comfortable enough to do so. Still, he keeps you close as both a courtesy to others, and yourself. And it’s nice because you can see the tree again, but this time you can hear the rhythm of his heart as well.

Both of his strong, engineer hands are caressing you- one against your shoulder and the other in your hair. Stroking softly and quietly as a contradiction to your sobs, like something calm against something wracking.

It made you cry more when you realized how calm Cal was to all of this. He stayed steady and upright so you could be comfortable against him- you could already feel the tension forming in his back. But his eyes were closed instead of looking around awkwardly. He wasn’t asleep, but it was like his body was entirely dedicated to taking care of you in the moment. He knew how much it meant for you to cry, even if you thought the reasons were stupid and ridiculous and you’d done your best to stop it. He let it happen anyway, and he’d let it happen on him. And if you didn’t know, that’s an incredibly nice thing to do for someone.

You felt like a little girl again, but this time it felt better. It felt like maybe someone actually wanted you to be okay.

Cal didn’t even ask what was wrong. Not yet, anyway. He just stayed in his position, tracing loving circles into your skin without really knowing the reasons why. He cared, but not as much as he cared about you being alright first. That meant something to you. It meant that he cared about you more than whatever reasons that galaxy could come up with. It meant that he’d put you first, before logic or shadows of facts or evidence. For now, at least.

In turn, Cal wanted to do everything he could for you. He didn’t know what was hurting you. He’d ask after, when he’d whisked you off to somewhere special and warm and safe that existed just between the two of you. Like your own little planet with a thousand different rings and scenery. Because, like said before, Cal Kestis has an enormous amount of empathy, and a very big heart.

So, you thought, maybe he can love me like I love him.

[He could.]

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I really came into this trying my best but then I feel like it slowly spiraled as I progressively got more tired. I always say I’ll go back and edit but then I get distracted by the Clone Wars and start something new.

This was based of the song Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood. I suggest listening to it. AND if there’s any other characters you’d like me to use for this song than tell me! I really like it a lot. anyway, butts.

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo @haztory @fanficsforheartandsoul [can’t even remember if you’re actually on my taglist but i just tag you in everything anyway i’m so sorry], @anakinswhore @chokemeanakin @kit-jpg

#Cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis imagine #cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #jfo #jedi fallen order imagine #jedi fallen order fanfiction #cal kestis fanfiction #x reader #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #cal kestis imagines #cal fanfiction #cal-kestis-imagine

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cto10121 · 3 years ago

Text

Does R&J Play With Gender Stereotypes?

So I came across this piece of meta by @hamliet that rather intrigued me:

There’s also another layer here: the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine. Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one. That’s the first thing Juliet declares to Romeo in the balcony scene: that she will always be loyal, and she shows this in every choice she makes in the story.

Let’s break this down.

“the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine.”

Romeo does indeed call Juliet the sun, but Juliet never calls Romeo the moon—or likens him with anything symbolically feminine, come to think of it. The closest she or the play gets is a small but clear association with night: Romeo has “night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes” and Juliet implores “loving, black-browed” night to give her her Romeo. Even then it is so that he can “make the face of heaven so fine / That all the world will be in love with night / And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

Instead, Juliet consistently uses the same love language of authority as Romeo does with her, calling him her lord, husband, knight, “day-in-night,” “mansion of a love,” “god of my idolatry,” and, (my particular favorite), “tassel-gentle” or “falcon.” “Pilgrim” is the lowest social rank she uses, but of course she is following Romeo’s pilgrim-and-saints flirtation and its wink-wink bilingual allusion to his name. Romeo’s use of “sun,” then, could be viewed in the context of both lovers conferring cosmic/earthly authority, beauty, ownership, and sovereignty to each other—the Elizabethan equivalent of calling each other wife/husband. And of course they begin doing that immediately after they marry.

Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one.

Definitely not. Romeo is plenty decisive and bold—making the first move in wooing Juliet, climbing the orchard wall, showing himself to Juliet, immediately agreeing to marry her, nearly killing himself when he thinks Juliet might not take him back and, er, actually killing himself for her. I wouldn’t say he is impulsive, either—though he makes decisions fairly quickly, it is almost always with some deliberation beforehand (“Can I go forward when my heart is here?” “Shall I hear more or shall I speak at this?” and his monologue after Mercutio’s exit) and of course there are instances in which he restrains himself (“I am too bold” and his monologue after Mercutio’s death). The most accurate description of Romeo is that he is a risk taker—at least when he is well and truly motivated. And even then it does not rob his deliberation or even his wits.

He is also not flighty. In fact, he proves just as loyal as Juliet—as soon as he meets her, he forgets about Rosaline and leaves her clear behind. He doesn’t once waver in his conviction that Juliet is for him and makes plans to die with her (and does!). His love for Rosaline is clearly framed by the narrative as shallow, performative, and passive, and the verse bears this out. He was never in any kind of relationship with Rosaline—his love was an unrequited crush that he was at perfectly liberty to have ditched, frankly. After that, it’s Juliet, Juliet, Juliet until he dies.

Also, once more, Romeo is no crybaby. He explicitly cries a total of two times—one even before the events of the play, when he pines over Rosaline under a grove of sycamore, and another when he’s 1) seen Mercutio get mortally wounded, 2) killed Tybalt, 3) learned that he is banished from the city, and 4) mistakenly believed that Juliet no longer wants him (the Nurse’s reply is vague enough to be misinterpreted); at the very least he is devastated to have been the cause of her pain. Anyone would break down in those circumstances. Juliet herself breaks down on hearing the news and arguably is more verbally vehement than Romeo—namely, that even the words “Romeo is banishèd” are worse than if herself, Romeo, her parents, and Tybalt were dead. She ends that monologue with a passive suicide threat: “And Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!” How anyone can argue Juliet isn’t as lovestruck as Romeo is beyond me.

What Shakespeare was most likely aiming for was showing the mutuality of R&J’s love with parallel scenes and even language. Both have chances to act strong, decisive, and bold, both show vulnerability and great emotion and passion, both are lovestruck. Both demonstrate so-called “masculine” and “feminine” traits, which is almost always culturally-and time-based, anyway. There are only a few key differences between the two—almost all of the above traits, however, they both share. It’s almost as if…Shakespeare understood that no man or woman had all masculine or all feminine traits.

Moving on to the conclusion:

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit). It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society. And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later.

You just opened up 200+ years of fandom wank, OP. I’ll just do a quick sum-up.

The Sonnets are a complete mess. They are contradictory as hell, there is clearly more than one persona speaking, there is evidence that Shakespeare edited and revised them, evidence they were published with his permission, quite a few sonnets are based on pre-existing sources, and, most damnably of all, none of the most likely candidates for the so-called Fair Youth and Dark Lady fit the narrative of the Sonnets perfectly or even satisfactorily—if there is even a clear narrative to these things to begin with. Sonnets were artificial works whose clichés and conventions were heavily satirized in Shakespeare’s own works—Berowne’s own rant-y sonnet swearing he would never believe in love sonnets comes most readily to mind. They were usually not meant to denote an actual real-life relationship, although there was a kind of “game” in trying to figure out which parts are true and which ones fiction. At least one sonnet sequence had a completely fictional addressee (Fulke Greville, I think).

Shakespeare’s sonnets do break a lot of these rules and conventions, and radically, and as they seem to have been compiled over many years, they lend themselves to autobiographical speculation. But, as a bit of a poet myself, I feel this: No one writes 154 sonnets—plus a whole narrative poem!—to one lover or even multiple lovers. Poetry is much less personal than laypeople think. Outside the sonnets, Shakespeare is not linked to any man romantically, and, besides his wife, only to two women (unnamed citizen’s wife and Jane Devanant).

Even if we assume Shakespeare’s bi, though, that doesn’t mean R&J is a queer narrative, which brings us to…

It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society.

A queer narrative that has its lovers express their love through the language of heterosexual marriage (husband, lord, wife, lady, pilgrim/saint), and commit suicide by a chalice-and-blade symbolism that mimics heterosexual sex (Romeo drinking a “cup” of poison and Juliet stabbing herself with Romeo’s dagger. Freud couldn’t have done it better). If Shakespeare was thinking “gay allegory!!!” he would have had to at least change or erase the symbolism (straight coding?) of the double suicide, or have Juliet attribute to Romeo explicitly feminine imagery. He would have to have done some major plot rejiggering. He would have had to, in short, change the whole story.

(Unless by “queer narrative” you mean “anything that has an emotionally constipated male lead who doesn’t growl sexily and a female lead who doesn’t cry/faint at the drop of a hat.” That’d be most every narrative, lol.)

Also, I’m hard-pressed to think of love romances that are 100% patriarchal narratives, and those that do (Casablanca, maybe?) are not really true ones, anyway. Patriarchy inherently opposes all romances of love and sex, including heterosexual. It demands that men be raised as soldiers to kill enemies, slaughtered, and discarded, and women as chattel and land to be bought and sold. Marriage was that transferral of property. Having children is necessary, not out of love and care for them, but to propagate the species and create even more future warriors and womb incubators. It grudgingly accepts only (mostly straight and like maybe 1 or 2 gay) love narratives that can be subsumed into this narrow paradigm, but the tension of interpretation is always present. Ideally, it prefers to ignore, diminish, scorn and mock, or even suppress them. I suspect most people’s problems and discomfort with R&J stem from this pathology, this deep-seated unease over anything that touches on human experience patriarchy can’t quite control or subsume.

Shakespeare was obviously no lover of patriarchy (in his personal life, though…well, it’s debatable). His plays resist it greatly to various degrees, and R&J is no exception. R&J hews much closer to the reality of heterosexual love and love in general, which are informed by, though are not inherently tied to, patriarchy (as are gay relationships, sadly). Shakespeare is just being a good writer in throwing most of that rotten apple away; it doesn’t apply to what he was trying to do, anyway. R&J’s challenge to patriarchy, though, is heterosexual in nature.

And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later.

True dat.

#romeo and juliet #shakespeare #cristina metas #rj meta #r&j meta #rj are just so boyxgirl op #accept it and you will find peace #repressive traditional gender roles are back in fashion it seems #the victorians couldn’t accept romeo as a man either and had him be played by an actress #but if we’re going to take our notions of gender from the victorians of all people well…

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fangirl-writes · 5 years ago

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Enough

Young!Roger Taylor x Reader

Queen is my latest obsession

Warning(s): Domestic fight, violence (Roger punches a wall), swearing. Angst. I used a gay slur in there once (f*ggot). It’s not an important part of the story, but a warning anyhow because I know some people aren’t comfortable with the word.

Notes: Angsty stuff here people. I hope I pulled on those heartstrings, but I added a happy ending so all’s well. Also I have no idea how record players work but I wish I did. Also I don’t think cheating is ever okay, but we all know Roger did it and I wanted to try something a little eloquent and angsty.

Summary: You and Roger get into a fight because you want to know why you aren't enough.

Roger threw his keys onto the table. “You’re being ridiculous, Y/N!”

“I am not! Roger why won’t you just give me an answer!”

“Because I shouldn’t have to! We’ve had this conversation before I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about this!”

“And I don’t know why you won’t just answer me!”

“I’ve already told you-”

“You haven’t told me anything!”

“I’ve told you enough!”

“Which isn’t anything!”

“Why the hell does this matter so fucking much to you!”

“Because I want to know, Roger!”

“It shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does matter!”

“Just to you!”

“Yeah because you won’t fucking tell me anything!”

Roger turned with an angry shout, flinging his fist into the wall behind him. The sound as the drywall cracked made you scream and Roger turned to you, hand still curled into a now bloody fist, the action not lessening his anger.

The silence that filled the air was suffocating as you stood there staring in horror at the look on his face, the blood coating his knuckles, and the gaping hole that was now in the wall behind him.

Roger walked passed you towards the door and gave it an angry slam on his way out.

You broke down, dropping to the floor and sobbing. You were still angry, still hurt, and still scared.

After about an hour had passed you finally got the strength to get off the floor and make your way to the phone.

You dialed the number that you knew by heart and waited as it rang in the otherwise quiet house.

“Hello?”

“Brian?”

“Y/N?” He said, hearing the heartbreak in your voice. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? Did Roger-”

“We had a fight. He walked out and hasn’t been back for a while and I’m starting to worry about him.”

“You’ve had a fight and you’re worried about him?”

You sniffed, wiping at your wet cheeks.

“God, Y/N, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Would- would you just find him? I-I don’t think he wants to see me but he punched the wall before he left and his hand was all bloody-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, love. It’s not your fault he blew a gasket, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and felt even more tears falling down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You hummed in response, your throat tight.

“We’ll bring him home.”

That was the last thing he said before hanging up and you choked out another sob, letting the phone drop from your hand and swing from the cord as you found yourself on the floor again, back against the wall as you sobbed into your knees.

Thinking back on it now, it had been your fault the fight had happened.

It had been about Roger’s endless groupies you knew he fucked every time he was on tour.

You’d talked about it back when you first started dating and you’d told him you were okay with it. You’d talked about it with your friends and family who’d been concerned about it and you’d told them you were fine with it. The other Queen members had asked you about it, offering to watch him for you while on tour, but you’d told them it didn’t bother you.

Hell, eventually you’d convinced yourself you were fine with it.

It was fine. I’m fine. What he does when I’m not around is fine because at the end of the day he always comes home to me. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

Then why. Why. Why did it take that stupid tabloid article to finally make you realize that you weren’t.

You don’t even know what compelled you to pick up the magazine. Usually you avoided picking up anything that even remotely mentioned the boys because you knew most of it would be slander. Calling Freddie a faggot or Roger a slut or John an absent husband. You hated those articles.

So then why? You asked yourself again. Why did you pick up that stupid tabloid?

Maybe it was because it was one of the few that mentioned you on the cover? Maybe it was because you were bored and wanted something to flip through? You didn’t remember and it didn’t matter now because the moment your eyes landed on that article it was over. And, at the moment, it felt like your stupidest decision.

Roger Taylor, Queen’s Sex Machine, Back At It Again.

After deciding his current girlfriend, Y/N L/N, wasn’t enough for the famous rock star, Roger Taylor was seen acting more than friendly with various groupies during his last tour. Our sources were not able to find a reaction from Y/N, making us suspect that she either doesn’t know about his sexual escapades, ignores them, or doesn’t care. How long will their relationship last if Y/N can’t fulfill Roger’s sexual needs? And how long will it take Roger to come to the conclusion he’s had enough of her?

Enough.

That was the word that kept playing back for you in your head. ‘Deciding his current girlfriend wasn’t enough’, ‘come to the conclusion he’s had enough.’

Why weren’t you enough?

You didn’t know how long you sat there, no tears left to cry and a whole in your heart. You felt numb. Whatever anger or sadness you’d been holding onto before was gone and replaced with an ache in your chest that wouldn’t go away.

It took a knock at the door to finally let all the emotions come flooding back to you.

Was that Brian? What if he didn’t find Roger? What if he did? Were you ready to face him again? Would he still be mad? Of course he’d still be mad. What would you say? Would you apologize? No, you don’t have anything to apologize for. Then what? If he was still mad, he certainly wasn’t going to apologize, that much you knew. What if he did apologize? ‘I’m sorry I caused you the worry, I’ll change how I live my life because you want me to’? No, that’s not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to change because of your outburst. What if he broke up with you? What if he kicked you out? You didn’t think you could stand going back to your family or friends and their pitying looks and ‘I told you so’s. ‘That’s what you get for dating a rock star’ they’d say. He finally decided you weren’t enough. Enough. Enough. Enough.

The knocking came again, this time harder and more persistent.

You rose from your spot on the floor and made your way to the door, every scenario going through your head as the knocking repeated.

“Y/N, darling, if you don’t open this door right now I’m going to break it down.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that made it’s way to your lips as you turned the knob and opened the door.

“I’d like to see you try, Freddie,”

Freddie Mercury stood on the other side of the door, a sad smile making its way to his lips.

“Brian told me what happened.”

The smile you tried to keep on fell at his words and soon you were in tears again, wrapped in Freddie’s arms.

“Oh, darling, oh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He soothed, stroking your hair as you cried into his shoulder. “I saw that stupid article. I thought something like this might happen.”

You weren’t sure whether his words made you feel better or worse.

He brought you into the living room and sat you down on the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before leaving your side to approach the record player sitting on a shelf near by.

You and Roger spent many hours listening to Jimi Hendrix or The Beatles, sometimes even Led Zeppelin if you could talk him into it. He even danced with you to ‘Since I've Been Loving You’ on your anniversary.

You smiled as he flipped through the albums before deciding on one of their own: A Night At The Opera. The one that, arguably, put them on the map.

You closed your eyes as ‘Death on Two Legs’ started playing softly. It wasn’t their most relaxing song, but their music had a way of calming you down. Freddie knew this after seeing you in the studio with them multiple times, absolutely relaxed in the creative environment.

He occupied the seat next to you again, pulling you to his chest as an offer to snuggle into him.

You accepted the offer and smiled softly as you listened to the angry and bitter song. You remembered them telling you it was based on their nasty former manager, Norman Sheffield.

“His loss,” You’d told them back then. “He’ll be forever known as the man who lost Queen.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Freddie had exclaimed. “It was like a movie scene! You should’ve been there, Y/N. It was a perfect exit.”

“Yeah and then we threw a brick through his window.” Roger added with a smug grin.

“Not our brightest idea.” Brian said.

“Never said any of you were the smartest lot.”

They’d shoved you around for that comment with laughter and good natured retorts.

The memory made you smile, the bad thoughts from before being driven away from your head as you remembered and snuggled against your favorite piano player as his voice drifted through the air.

You wondered if the song would’ve made you angrier if you didn’t know what it was really about and didn’t have the memory attached to it. You supposed it would have but you could only giggle at the lyrics now. It was bitter and mean, as Freddie once called it, but it was a great song.

‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ came next and you released a breath at the softer tone. The song reminding you of Alice in Wonderland and Singing in the Rain, films that you had watched as a kid. It was a short song, but it did wonders for your mood with its playful and happy tune.

It wasn’t until ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ came on that you realized he’d put the record on the B-Side.

You sat up from Freddie, a frown on your face, mood brought down again.

“Change it.” You commanded.

“Sorry, dear, too comfortable here.” He replied, a smirk on his face.

You bit your lip, near to tears again, as Roger’s song played along in the background. The song he’d fought himself into a cupboard for and that you relentlessly teased him about.

“Freddie, please, I-I don’t-”

A knock interrupted your sentence and Freddie practically launched himself over the couch to get it.

The limber bastard.

You followed him reluctantly, knowing who would be on the other side of that door. The man singing a song about his car.

Freddie pulled open the door to John Deacon who was stood with a frown on his face that disappeared into concern as he noticed you enter the room.

He moved to hug you, which you happily accepted. Hugging Freddie and Deacy was a comforting feeling that you desperately needed.

“Why’s this song playing?” He wondered aloud, more confused than anything.

The comment made you laugh.

“Y/N.”

You pulled away from John to face Brian who was giving you a similar look. It wasn’t pity, but rather a sort of concern. It warmed your heart to think that they cared for you so much.

Were you enough in their eyes?

“We found him walking. Had to take him to the hospital for his hand, but-”

“Is he still angry?”

“No.” Brian said, catching you by surprise. “I don’t think he’s been angry for a while.”

Your eyes swelled with tears as Brian motioned for Roger to come inside.

If you were in a better mood, you would have laughed. Roger Taylor waiting for permission to go inside his own home.

He walked passed Brian, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at his shoes.

The song changed to ‘You’re My Best Friend’ but nobody paid any attention to the music.

Freddie had an annoyed expression on his face and opened his mouth to say something until Deacy put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Silently telling him it wasn’t appropriate and that they’d lectured him enough for one night.

“Happy at Home” the song chimed, normally earning a snarky comment from Roger, but it seemed he wasn’t listening or at least not caring about the line for once.

“Come on, boys, I think we better leave these two alone.” Brian spoke up after a minute of silence. “Fred, I’ll take you home.”

Freddie seemed reluctant to leave. Whether that was because he was concerned or because he wanted to witness the drama of it all was unknown, but he followed the other two band members out the door.

You stood in silence for another minute as the song in the background faded into 39. A song you loved.

It seemed to be the kick Roger needed to finally look up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Hi,” He said.

“Hi...” You replied.

“I’m sor-”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, Roger, please don’t apologize, I don’t want an apology for something I started. No, Rog, all I want is an answer.”

“An answer for what?”

You blinked back tears as you asked the dreaded question again. “Why aren’t I enough?”

Enough. Enough. Enough.

Roger’s eyes swelled up with his own tears and he shook his head with a small laugh.

“Ridiculous, really. You’ve always been enough, Y/N. Always.”

“Then why?” You said, tears streaming freely down your cheeks again. You felt like you’d cried an ocean. “Why sleep with all those groupies on tour? Am I not pleasing you enough? Is that it?”

“No!” Roger exclaimed. “God no, it’s perfect! You’re perfect.”

“Then why?” you asked again, voice raising before dropping to a murmur as you hung your head. “Why?”

Roger took your face in his hands. “Please, don’t cry, love.”

You shook your head, palms digging into your eyes to try to get rid of the tears.

He hugged you to his chest and you felt your heart ache once again because, as mad as you were at him, you longed for his comfort.

“I think I do it because- fuck it, I know I do it because I’m afraid.” He said.

You sniffed. Afraid? Afraid of what?

“I’m afraid that one day you’ll you realize what a twat I am and I’ll come home and you won’t be there. I do it because I’m afraid of getting attached to you, even though I know I already have, because what if you leave me one day? What if you decide that I’m not enough for you?”

You looked up at him. “You're afraid of that?”

Roger feigned laughter, not meeting your gaze. “Yeah, the bloody rock star has feelings. Ha ha.”

“No.” You pull his gaze to you again, feeling about a thousand emotions at once. “Roger, I’ve spent the entire day wondering why I wasn’t enough for you and you’re here telling me that you did all this shit because you think you’re not enough for me? Me?”

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry again.

“I love you, Roger Taylor. And you will always be more than enough for me. No matter how many groupies you sleep with or how many times you hurt me or whatever the fuck those fucking magazines say about you because I love you more than I hate you and sometimes I really fucking hate you.”

Roger smiled sadly at you. “I love you more, Y/N L/N, and I don’t deserve you, not at all. You have always been enough for me and I promise that I will try harder to show you that instead of being the dickhead that keeps breaking your heart.”

You sniffed, burying your face in his chest again.

“Always.” He whispered into the top of your head. “You are always gonna be enough for me.”

“Write your letters in the sand for the day I take your hand. In the land that our grandchildren knew.”

You snuggled into Roger’s chest as ‘39 came to a close, his hand squeezing yours in a sort of reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere again.

“All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand. For my life. Still ahead. Pity me.”

“I love you,”

It was a whisper, barely above his breath but you heard it and you savored the sound of his confession in the sudden silence.

Roger pulled away from you, much to your displeasure and confusion and walked into the living room, making a beeline for the record player. You followed him, hoping not to look too much like a lost puppy.

He flipped the record and adjusted the needle.

He held out his hand as ‘Love of My Life’ started playing.

You’d have cried if you had any tears left.

You took it and he pulled you into a sloppy sort of waltz that made you laugh. The boy could sing, but when it came to dancing he was no John Deacon. You leaned your head on his chest, taking in his scent (cigarette smoke, scotch, and the smell of his lingering cologne).

“I really am sorry. For everything. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“I know. And I’m not going to forgive you, not for a while, maybe not ever, but we can move past it. Just hold me, yeah?”

And he did. He held you for as long as he could.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor x you #queen imagine #borhap imagine #70s!roger taylor x reader #young!roger taylor x reader #ben!roger taylor x reader

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

Text

step out! do what you want (chapter two)

pairing: reader/bang chan  side pairings: established changbin/minho, past jisung/reader, a moment of changbin/chan flirting but it’s brief and not serious rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: alcohol, party drug use, violence (fist fights), a little angst because everyone loves drama, lots of profanity, smut, unprotected sex, a bit of exhibitionism, minho is definitely a bit of a hoe and a bad influence word count: about 11,100! also on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter two: hello stranger, who the hell are you?

recommended tracks: just disappear by takayan, the last by agust d, phobia by stray kids, fairy of shampoo by tomorrow x together, dynamite by bts, dumb litty by kard. playlist can be found here!

note: this chapter is much longer than chapter one and it’s a wild ride. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it!

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

The soft light of dawn comes through the window behind you, gently causing you to wake up. For a brief moment, you forgot where you were, but last night comes crashing down on you like the slight headache you have from your body being mad at you for having a bit too much fun with drugs last night.

The bed shifts next to you as Christopher starts to wake up. He reaches his hand over your abdomen and pulls you back into his chest. “Morning,” he sleepily grumbles, half-awake, “how’d you sleep?” You smile, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“This bed is really nice.” You run your hand across the sheets, then slowly turn to face Christopher. “I think our escapade last night helped me sleep pretty well. What about you?”

He grumbles and ducks his head under your chin. “You absolutely wore me out last night. I feel like I slept like the dead. What time is it, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure, let me check.” You say, starting to roll over when Christopher stops you, his grip tightening on your waist.

“I thought we agreed to have a repeat of last night this morning?”

“Yeah, yeah, but maybe we should eat something first,” you manage to squeeze out of Christopher’s grip as he groans dramatically with feigned despair, pulling yourself to the side of the bed and reaching down to your jeans. It takes some skilled fumbling to get your phone out of your back pocket with only one hand, but you manage to get it. Miraculously, when you press the side button, your phone comes to life - there’s still some semblance of battery left.

‘Holy shit,’ you think to yourself as you see your screen. Eight missed text messages from Minji and three missed calls. You expected the mass of texts, but she must have had a really good time last night if she called you.

As you open your texts, you briefly scan through them and your stomach falls to the floor.

What?! No way!

Eonni, you seriously can NOT be hanging with THE Bang Chan?

Babe, he is dangerous, you need to get out of there.

Oh my god. Why aren’t you answering my texts?

Chan’s a kkangpae, like, he sells a lot of drugs and shit. Why do you think I broke up with Hyunjin last year? He got involved in that and I wasn’t gonna deal with it anymore.

Oh, I never told you I dated Hyunjin, did I? Oops.

Eonniiiiiiiii I swear you better not be dead. I’m going to bring you back and kill you if you’re dead.

Seriously, I thought after you were done with Jisung you swore off music producers?? Girl, you have bad taste lol.

“Well?” Christopher’s voice scares you and you involuntarily drop your phone to the floor in surprise. “What time is it? Hey, are you okay?”

You shake your head in disbelief, but somehow compose yourself enough to nervously laugh it off. “It’s, uh, like 10:30.”

Your answer doesn’t really convince Christopher that you’re actually fine. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently giving you a squeeze, and you flinch in response. “Are you sure you’re okay? You dropped your phone and you look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Chan’s a kkangpae. It feels like Minji’s text is burned in your head; it’s all you can think about. A bout of nausea washes over you - the red flags you had pop up last night were right. The nice apartment, the drugs, the cool demeanour, hell, even the way he looked - everything clicked into place. This man wasn’t just a music producer, he was something way more serious.

Christopher gets up out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He shuffles around for a minute before he comes back with a bottled beverage in his hand, kneeling down in front of you. “Babe, you look terrible. Drink this, it’ll help you feel better.” He takes his other hand and gently rubs his thumb over your knee. The look on his face is deceptively calm and inviting. How was he so dangerous?

You shake your head and grab the drink, briefly glancing over the label. Some cold ginger tea blend that you’ve had a thousand times before. The thought of drinking something right now was really off-putting, not due to nausea, but this crippling, suffocating feeling in your stomach.

“The washroom’s through that door back there,” Christopher says as he points behind his shoulder. “I’ve gotta check on something, but I’ll be back in a minute. If you need anything, just yell for me, okay?”

You still can’t manage to look him in the eyes, but you will yourself to nod your head weakly. He pushes himself up onto his toes, kissing your forehead softly before he walks over to his closet, ruffling through the clothes hanging up. It’s a good moment to take off to the washroom, if anything just to wash your face and get your bearings straight.

Time seems to stand still. You’re not sure how long you stand with your head hanging over the sink, water starting to dry on your face. The fact that Christopher was a kkangpae seemed foreign and odd, like the word didn’t actually exist anymore, the more you mulled over it in your head. You came to the conclusion that he himself couldn’t have been that dangerous, but that the people he involved himself with were probably really dangerous. Right?

Knowing that you had slept with someone with dangerous connections didn’t bother you as much as the fact that you liked sleeping with him, that he was arguably one of the best guys you’d fucked. If the circumstances were different, you would probably try and keep whatever you had going. The thought of dating someone like him didn’t seem so terrible, except for the fact that he was a goddamn drug dealer.

“Fuck,” you groan as you look at yourself in the mirror. You decided you had to get dressed, come up with some excuse and get out of there. “Right.” Instilling a fake air of confidence, you straightened up and opened the door back to the bedroom. As you walked through the doorway, you could see Christopher in the kitchen through the corner of your eye. In the time it took you to get your head on straight, he had dressed himself back up in a nice button up shirt and some dark blue jeans.

“Oh!” He calls after you from the doorway, “I grabbed a shirt of mine and a pair of pants that I think will fit you? They’re on the bed.”

‘Great,’ you sarcastically thought to yourself, ‘I’ve always wanted to wear a drug dealer’s clothes. Very cool.’

You grab your underwear and bra from last night and slip them on, feeling gross and like you needed to get back home now, if anything, so you could shower and wear fresh clothes. Since you were already pretty deep in, you decide to just wear Christopher’s clothing and hope that he didn’t want it back. It was kind of cute, an obviously worn band t-shirt, and comfortable, yet somehow flattering black joggers. If this were another lifetime, you could see yourself stealing Christopher’s clothes more often.

Alright, you were nearly ready to go. However, when you went to grab your phone to respond to Minji and let her know you were okay, you were foiled by fate and it was dead. “Motherfucker,” you grumble as you grind the heel of your foot into the ground in frustration. Life was not on your side today.

You decide to suck up your pride for a bit, after all, shit was already bad enough, how could it get worse? With a bit of a lazy shuffle in your step, you make your way out to the kitchen, weakly shaking your phone. “Hey,” you squeak out, “I don’t suppose you have a charger, do you?”

“Wow!” Christopher’s eyes light up at seeing you in his old clothes, “You look really cute in that. Yeah, I’ve got a charger in there, come here,” he walks over towards you, grabbing your hand and guiding you towards the far side of the bed in the bedroom. “Here,” he says as he bends down and hands you the end of the cord. “I think this will work? Looks like you’ve got an iPhone too.”

“Thanks,” you say, plugging your phone in. The way that he looks at you so softly warms your heart a bit - it’s been a long time since you felt so cared for, and you felt guilty that you were going to try to dash out of here as soon as possible and leave all this behind. “Of course,” Christopher smiles and kisses your forehead again. “I’m gonna make something for breakfast real quick. It’ll be ready in a bit, so try not to fall asleep again, alright?”

The pit of regret in your stomach grows a bit. “Yeah, sure thing,” you say with fake enthusiasm.

Christopher’s footsteps fade from your ears and you have a moment’s reprieve before you hear a ringtone that isn’t yours. “Oh shit,” you hear him exclaim from the kitchen, “What happened now?”

“Changbin,” his voice turns dark as you hear him answer his phone. “Shit, yeah, no, I got your text messages. Wait,” he sounds slightly panicked, “you’re here? Goddammit, this is that bad, isn’t it?” There’s a lengthy pause. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Whatever. You know where I am.” You hear his phone hit the countertop as Christopher sighs heavily and shouts, “Fuck!”

‘This is bad,’ you think, unconsciously gripping the sheets beneath you. The silence in the apartment is deafening; you swear you could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest. Then, suddenly, footsteps come back into the bedroom as Christopher says your name, firmly and seriously, before sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I’m so sorry for this, but,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “someone I work with is coming over and it’s serious. Can you stay in here for a bit? After he’s gone, I’ll order us something for breakfast, something nice. Okay?” As you space off, lazily gazing towards Chris, you notice that he’s staring down at your right hand, gently placing his atop yours and softly wrapping his fingers around your hand. You noncommittally nod your head yes in reassurance, too distracted to really answer.

He’s a kkangpae, the reminder pops up in your head again. You swear that you can hear it in Minji’s voice. You know should get out of here, just bolt up and leave, but you can’t bring yourself to leave quite yet.

A pounding on the front door rips you from your thoughts. As Christopher bolts up to his feet, a chime comes from his phone. He pulls it from his back pocket, glancing at it briefly before relaxing the tense look from his face for a second. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly,” he says, getting up and walking out of the bedroom. “Well, friendly enough, at least. Stay here, I’ll deal with him.”

A moment passes, and you hear some light shuffling.

“You dense motherfucker,” an unfamiliar voice comes from the entryway, immediately followed by the door slamming. “The Chan I remember was never this stupid.”

“Changbin,” Christopher’s interjects, his voice terse.

“You went out after I explicitly told you not to and you brought a complete stranger back to your apartment? You absolute moron.” The voice, you assume belongs to Changbin, sounds more irritated than angry. “Hyunjin was spotted at that party last night. I don’t know who took it, but that photo of you and that woman is making the rounds in the group. Who only knows who all saw that? I thought I told you both to stay away from all of Itaewon-dong this week?”

The name Hyunjin causes your breath to hitch in your throat, piquing your interest. You pull yourself up to your feet, quietly walking towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, you poke your head over the doorframe, glancing into the kitchen. Christopher is standing behind a barstool, his hands ruffling through his hair before he casually tucks them in his pockets. A shorter, lean man with dark brown hair walks on the opposite side of the countertop, nervously pacing back and forth.

“Changbin, look, it was a mistake,” Christopher tiredly pleads, “I admit that I fucked up, yeah, but-”

“You fucked up?” Changbin cuts him off, punctuating his sentence a sarcastic laugh. He turns back to face the fridge and you hear the door opening, the sound of items shuffling echoing through the quiet apartment. “Yeah, you definitely fucked up. I’m drinking some of your beer. Gonna fucking need it. You know,” he slams the door shut, “you’d better hope you weren’t tailed. If they find out where you live, well, I can’t protect you from that.”

A soft tss comes from what you assume is Changbin opening a can of beer. Christopher catches your eye as he reaches down to the can that Changbin placed in front of him. He looks down, then looks back up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second, lips parting and his eyes widening in surprise. You quickly hide behind the wall, knowing you shouldn’t have spied on their conversation.

“What?” Changbin’s voice perks up for a second. “Oh my god. She’s still here?” He somehow sounds more annoyed at this and lets out an exasperated groan. “Goddammit, Chan, what happened to you? Oi,” he stresses, footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, “Get out here, this involves you too.”

“What, you thought the high heels were mine?” Chris sarcastically scoffs as you walk out of the bedroom. “Changbin, this is-“

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin cuts Christopher off, throwing his free hand up in frustration, as if he was dismissing Christopher, “trust me, I fucking know.” He grumbles out your full name and adds, “Some model from northern Japan, Korean mom, Japanese dad, right? Graduated from Todai a couple years ago; bachelor’s in economics.” He glares at you as he takes a swig of beer from his can, clicking his tongue in disapproval and muttering something under his breath. “Typical, just your fuckin’ type.”

“W-what?” You stutter out, completely floored that he knows so much about you. “Chris, how does he know all of that?” Panic starts to overtake you and your hands start to tremble.

“Babe,” he whispers, a look of pity painted on his face. Christopher stands up and walks over toward you, but you step back into the wall, waving your hands in a frenzy.

“No, no, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that until I know what’s happening.”

Changbin sarcastically chuckles and crushes his can. “Here we go,” he says, digging in the fridge once again. He pulls out two cans of beer and puts one of them on the corner of the counter closest to you. “You’re gonna need one of these, too.”

Your head is spinning, from the window, the skyline of Seoul seems to blur together as you try to make sense of everything that’s happening. If you understood it correctly, Christopher was indeed a drug dealer, just under Changbin in their group’s hierarchy. Hyunjin was also involved, but sold trafficked guns and other weapons in and out of the group.

Christopher went out to that house party in Itaewon last night when Changbin ordered him not to (he stressed that point several times), someone from a rival drug dealing gang saw both him and Hyunjin, snapping photos of them both, as well as a photo of you sitting next to Christopher, his arm around your shoulders, clearly enjoying yourselves.

What made it worse was that someone mistakenly spread a rumour that you and Christopher were an item, that you were a close girlfriend of his, and it put a target on your head so that they could specifically shake up Christopher. Changbin had said that he was unsure exactly how much danger you were in, but it would be best if no one knew where you were. Neither of you were to leave this apartment without someone escorting you.

A nervous laugh came bubbling up from your stomach, erupting into a full-blown, wild cackling fit. There was no way that any of this was real - you were just out with a friend last night, you left with someone else to have a one night stand, and now you were having some sort of crazy fever dream thanks to the drugs you took last night.

“This is crazy,” you say in between laughs, “Christopher, you can’t be serious. This is a joke, right?” You calm yourself, no longer laughing as you look at both Changbin and Christopher, their faces stone cold and free from expression. “Oh my god,” the realization hits you and you sink further into the couch, hoping that it will eat you alive so you don’t have to deal with this mess. “What about Minji? She ran off with Hyunjin last night. Is she okay?”

The men looked at each other with confusion. “I only heard about one woman, and that was you,” Changbin says, leaning back in his chair, throwing his arm over the back of it. “If there was someone with Hyunjin, this is the first time I’m hearing of it. What’s her family name? I’ll have one of my guys keep an eye on her.”

“Moon. Moon Minji. She models with me. Lives in the apartment across from me.” You were somewhat relieved, shaking your head in disbelief. Naturally, you were happy that Minji was safe - for now - but you couldn’t believe this was happening to you.

Changbin stands up, pulling his phone from his back pocket, “Alright. I’m gonna make a call. Don’t go anywhere, either of you.” He starts tapping on his phone and ducks off into a room on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Christopher gets up and sits next to you on the couch. He cautiously reaches his hand out to your thigh. You want to swat his hand away, but you don’t have the energy to do it. “I am so sorry,” he says in a soft tone, his voice sounding like it’ll break at any second, “If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you here, wouldn’t have risked this.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, but you don’t really register it. He takes his free hand to brush your hair back behind your ear, rubbing his thumb soothingly on your cheek.

Honestly, this conversation had exhausted you. Your life was turned upside down because of this man, this dangerous, but wonderful man. Part of you resented him, but the way he tried to calm you by stroking your face made you less angry at him. For all the shit he put you through, his genuineness did make you forgive him - at least somewhat.

“Chris,” you start to say, looking up at him, before Changbin opens the door and loudly walks back into the room.

“Your friend’s going to be fine. I’ve got one of my best guys following her,” he interjects, walking to the fridge, grabbing another can of beer, “she’s gonna be tracked until we get this shit sorted out. Hyunjin texted me and apologized, for whatever the hell that’s worth. You two are idiots.”

Christopher sighs heavily, furrowing his brows in frustration as he looks up at Changbin. “Oh, yeah? That time we were in Shanghai? Want me to bring that up?” He drops his hand from your face and stands up.

Changbin closes the fridge door and loudly slams his unopened can of beer on the counter. “You bastard, that was entirely-” Christopher cuts him off, advancing towards him.

“Entirely what, different? You easily lost us, what, a hundred million won? Or was it three hundred?” You swivel your head around to see the two of them get in each other’s faces. “And for what, Minho?”

Whatever that meant, it snapped something inside Changbin. “You motherfucker,” he gritted, taking fistfuls of Christopher’s shirt into his hands before shoving him backwards. “I’m gonna fucking kill you. Don’t you dare bring him up like that again.”

A growl came from Christopher as he rolled up his sleeves, “It’s your fault that he got shot and you know it. You’re lucky he didn’t die.”

Changbin managed to take his elbow and ram it into the side of Christopher’s face, causing him to collide with the kitchen cabinet. He wound his arm back and threw a fist towards Christopher’s face, trying to get him one more time. He ducked, running his shoulder into the shorter man’s chest, pushing him back a few steps before he fell to the floor with an audible thud. Christopher towered over Changbin, fists tightly clenched. He knelt down and drew his right arm back, ready to deck the smaller man.

“Fuck you!” Changbin shouted as he flailed underneath Christopher, grabbing a fistful of his shirt with one of his hands, pulling his right arm to the side, winding up another punch.

You started to panic, yelling at them to stop. You did not need this happening on top of everything else. However, your words fell on deaf ears as the guys kept yelling at each other, thrashing around on the floor.

Suddenly, the movement stops, and you hear Changbin pound on Christopher’s chest. “I’m never going to forgive myself,” he chokes out, his voice laden with regret, and it almost sounds like he’s holding back tears. “I can’t even look at him without seeing him lying there, dying. And I know it’s my fault. You don’t have to fucking remind me. Knowing I almost got Minho killed haunts me. I’d give anything to trade places with him so he didn’t have to experience that pain.”

Christopher sits back on his heels, offering Changbin a hand to sit up. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. That was a low blow, I’m just fucking panicking.” The brunette accepts his hand and sits up, his face red and slightly puffy. His eyes were red and glossy as he rolls them in your general direction.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to either of you. I know you barely know her, but if she got hurt or killed, I know you’d never forgive yourself either.”

“Thanks,” Christopher says, pulling Changbin to his chest. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. Not by blood, by the code, yeah?” Changbin grunts in agreement, slapping his hand against Christopher’s back.

“Not by blood, by the code.” Changbin repeats back to Christopher, who is offering his hand to help Changbin stand. You could tell there was an exhaustive history between them and you were only scratching the surface of it.

“Alright,” Changbin says, setting a couple of bags down on the coffee table. “I grabbed some jjajangmyeon from that place you like and some more alcohol since I’ve been drinking all of your beer.”

“You didn’t need to do that, we have plenty in fridge in the studio,” Christopher sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I didn’t say it was for you anyways,” Changbin continues, looking at you, “Minho’s gonna swing by in a bit. I asked him to go out and get you some clothes since you’re gonna be here for a while. I’d have done it myself, but I don’t know shit about clothes. He always goes shopping for the two of us.”

You’ve been sitting on the couch for a few hours now, barely moving. The sun was behind the building now, so you assumed it was probably some time in the early evening. Christopher was nice enough to bring you your phone so you could tell Minji that you were fine, but you were sick so you wouldn’t be around for a while. Thankfully, you didn’t have any gigs planned for about a month and a half, but you knew you’d have to get a hold of your boss eventually.

Christopher was on the couch next to you, an awkward gap apparent between the two of you. Neither of you had spoken much to each other today, conversations mostly happening between Christopher and Changbin. He has, however, kept his hand on top of yours the entire time. Before Changbin returned from his errand run, Christopher apologized to you several times, genuinely upset that he brought an innocent person into this. You were thankful that Changbin returned when he did, because if you had to listen to Christopher apologize one more time, you were ready to lose it.

“Here you go,” Changbin says as he starts emptying a paper bag, placing a couple takeout boxes of jjajangmyeon and side dishes in front of you. “I grabbed some soju and beer for us, think we could use it.”

“Haven’t you had enough beer today?” Christopher sarcastically says, reaching over to grab a pair of chopsticks and a box of food, putting both in your lap before he reaches for his own food.

“Look, man,” Changbin started, bringing a few bottles to the table, “after the day we’ve had, there ain’t enough beer in the world to deal with what’s happened. Might as well have fun for now, yeah?”

You don’t say anything and just reach for the closest bottle of soju, tilting it back and forth a couple times before opening it, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a hearty chug. The aroma of strawberry perfumes your mouth as the alcohol burns all the way down. You didn’t really like strawberry soju, but tonight was gonna be different. You slam the bottle down on the table and smile widely. “Let’s do it.”

Christopher and Changbin are staring at you with their mouths hanging open. This is the most active you’ve been in over an hour, and it had taken them by surprise. “Alright, that’s my gal,” Changbin says with a smirk, grabbing his own bottle of soju and downing an equally long swig. He shakes his head, scrunching up his nose in disgust, and coughs, “Oh shit, that’s a terrible idea. Why the hell did I get flavoured shit?”

You grab a bottle and put it in Christopher’s hands. “Your turn,” you say before turning to open the takeout box in front of you. The warming smell of the black bean sauce brightens your mood a bit, excited to eat one of your favourite meals.

Christopher’s pensive, although he decides to suck it up as he reaches down to a fresh bottle of soju, shaking it, “Yeah, fine, whatever,” he says, cracking open the bottle and sucking down a couple of hearty gulps. “Fuck, Changbin, blueberry?” He coughs before reorienting himself, “Really? The fuck is wrong with you?”

You stifle back a laugh, taking a bite of your jjajangmyeon. “You’ll be fine, you can do it,” you say, reaching back down to the bottle of strawberry soju in front of you. “This will help make things a bit more bearable, yeah?” You look at Christopher with a toothy smile, hoping he’ll lighten up at least a bit.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and Changbin perks up. “That’s probably Minho.” He stifles a smirk, looking down at his phone as it chirps. He gets up, walking to the door with purpose. It takes a minute, but he eventually opens the door. You casually look over your shoulder, trying not to obviously stare, noticing the small man embrace the dark-haired man that walks in. The man isn’t much taller than Changbin, maybe only a couple of inches taller. Their embrace is soft, warming, like you can tell that they care about each other.

“Hey there,” he says softly, and you catch him plant a soft kiss on Changbin’s cheek. His voice is low and calm, “I grabbed the things you asked me to grab, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Aish,” you hear Changbin shush him, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me, baby. Come in and hang with us. I got some soju for you.”

The shorter, black-haired man comes up in front of you, “Hi, I’m Lee Minho. Changbin’s probably talked about me by now.” He bows slightly before dropping the bags he has behind the table, taking a seat across from you, opposite from the chair Changbin’s was occupying. The man grabs a bottle of soju off the table, shaking it up and down twice before cracking it open and drinking a quick swig from the bottle.

“Oh, ew,” he groans, a clear wince on his face, “Peach? Binnie, what the hell’s wrong with you?” He whines, looking at Changbin as he grimaces.

“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin waves a hand in the air dismissively as he sits back down, “I know, I wasn’t looking when I grabbed the alcohol, okay? I was a bit distracted. Fuck you guys,” he grumbles, reaching down to his soju bottle. “If you don’t like it, go to CU and get your…. oh.” He stops in his tracks, bottle halfway to his mouth. “Shit, my bad. Want me to go get something different?”

You’re about to dismiss it, but Christopher looks at Changbin, “Yeah, go get something better, especially if Minho’s gonna be here for a while. We’re gonna need it.” He sounds cold, taking a quick drink from his bottle. “We’re gonna need to stay entertained tonight somehow, yeah?” He turns to look at you, reaching out to grab your thigh again, a sly smirk on his face.

You can’t help but blush. You turn down towards your lap, grabbing a large amount of food with your chopsticks and shove it in your mouth. “Mmmpfh,” you manage to grumble out, in a seeming sense of agreement.

All of the guys share a soft chuckle, then Changbin excuses himself with a grumble before walking up to the front door. “I’ll be back in a bit, alright? Don’t go anywhere.” The door closes with a soft thud, and a few moments pass as the three of you sit there quietly.

“So,” Minho smiles, looking at both you and Christopher with purpose, “Changbin told me that you two seem to have taken a liking to each other already.”

You swear you hear Christopher choke on a mouthful of food before looking at you through the corner of his eyes. “Um,” he manages to squeak out, swallowing the food in his mouth, “I suppose you could say that? It’s only been a day, though.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to get to know each other really well here soon.” Minho shrugs his shoulders, grabbing the peach soju he was drinking earlier. “Oh,” he exclaims, beaming with a smile, “when Binnie gets back, we should play a drinking game. That’s a good way to get to know someone, isn’t it?” Admittedly, it did sound fun at the beginning. However, when you were on your third bottle of soju and Changbin and Minho were getting flirty and handsy with each other, you were a bit jealous. You and Christopher were starting to get closer and you were really feeling good, but it would be weird to be that playfully touchy-feely with someone you’ve known for less than 24 hours.

“I have an idea,” Minho turns to look at both of you, “you know what’ll help you even get closer?” He gets up, walks towards the kitchen counter and starts rifling through Changbin’s bag.

“Oi! That’s my stuff!” Changbin proclaims from his seat.

“Relax, babe, not like you don’t go through my stuff,” Minho quips, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Ah,” he exclaims, “found ‘em.” He comes back to the coffee table and puts a film canister on the table, the container rattling the entire time. Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes, realizing what’s in it.

“Aish,” he groans, “what is with you and this stuff when you drink?”

“Oh, shut up. You still love me, especially after one of these.” Minho says, with a laugh, suggestively looking at Changbin for a moment. He pops the lid of the canister and pours out the contents on to the table. Out comes a few baby blue tablets, similar to the ones you took last night.

A memory of you sitting on Christopher’s face, struggling to stay upright, shouting his name, flashes through your head. Your face gets hot and you look down, visibly flustered. He must have noticed, because Christopher squeezes your thigh, then moves his hand up to your shoulder. “What’s up?” He asks.

“Oh,” you look up at him, then back down to your lap. “The pills just reminded me of something.”

Christopher looks at the table, letting his thoughts register for a moment. It must have hit him, because he sucks in a breath through his teeth and giggles a bit. “Ah, yeah, last night, right?”

“Oh my god,” you groan with frustration and put your head into your hands.

“Hold up,” Minho perks up, a giddy smile on his face, “What happened last night?”

“That’s a bit rude, Min.” Changbin says in a disappointed tone, playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder.

“You both know that I’m nosy. So, what happened last night?”

Christopher rolls his eyes, then sits back on his hands. “We took some ecstasy and had a couple lines last night, so we were rolling pretty hard. We felt pretty good, one thing led to another, you know.” You feel eyes bore into the back of your head, and turn to look at Christopher. He’s got a big grin on his face, clearly happy with himself. “Any time I can make someone shout my name at the top of their lungs is a good time.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan and drop your forehead to the top of the coffee table, sighing in embarrassment. You sit back up and glare at Christopher, ready to be mad at him, but the way he smiles melts any anger you had towards him.

“Nice,” Minho hums as Changbin nods his head in approval. He grabs the pills on the table, and gives one to everyone. The guys immediately pop theirs into their mouths, and you sit there, pill in hand, just staring at it.

“You alright?” Christopher asks, rubbing a hand on your back. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby.” The word ‘baby’ slipped from his lips naturally; he clearly didn’t mean to say it, it just happened. “Uh, um, sorry.”

The next thing you know, the pill is halfway down your throat and you’re finishing up your third bottle of soju. “It’s all good, baby,” you say, jokingly mocking Christopher. You turn to look at him, and give him a wink. He smiles back to you, scooting himself up next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Ugh,” Changbin grumbles, rolling his head back, “you’re already insufferable.”

Christopher picks up a lid from an empty soju bottle and tosses it at the brunette. “Oh, shut up. You and Minho were all over each other just a few minutes ago. Not to mention, you’re going to be even worse once the E kicks in. The last time we were down in Busan and we all were tripping and you started fucking each other in front of me, remember that?”

“You enjoyed watching it, though, quite a bit from what I recall, “Changbin quips, “I very clearly remember you whipping out your dick and taking things into your own hands while we were putting on a show.” Hearing this makes your eyes widen in surprise, spinning your head to the side to look at Christopher, who’s blushing and covering his face with his hand.

Minho starts laughing really hard, and it causes the frown on Changbin’s face to crack into a smile. “Aish, you’re so cute when you laugh.” He leans over and gives the dark-haired man a peck on the cheek. “And I don’t care who knows how I feel about it,” he smirks as he turns to look at Christopher, raising his eyebrow in jest.

“Yeah?” Christopher taunts, slipping his hand down your shoulder to your waist and pulling you closer. “You should hear her when I -“ Before he can finish his sentence, you take your elbow and dig it into his ribs.

“They don’t need to know everything,” you whine.

“Yeah,” Christopher smirks, “They’ll probably get an earful of it tonight, anyways.”

Both of the men across the table groan in feigned disgust. “Anyway,” Minho stresses, trying to change the subject, “Why don’t we bust out a couple beers and play some truth or dare?” Changbin stands up, walking to the fridge. “Sounds like we’ve already opened up quite a bit, yeah?”

“I’m on it, I’ll grab a couple for everyone. Don’t say I don’t do anything nice for you,” he scoffs as he enters the kitchen. Minho starts putting all of the emptied soju bottles, except for one, in a bag. The last bottle, he takes and lays it on its side, putting it in the middle of the table. You look at the bottle, then turn to look up at Christopher.

“Hey,” you whisper in his ear, “was that story actually true?”

Christopher blushes again and stifles a laugh, “Yeah, yeah it was true. Not my proudest moment, but have you looked at them? Anyone would’ve done it, too.”

His honesty makes you laugh a bit, and you lean up next to him, nuzzling your head up against his shoulder. He’s warm, and comfortable, and he rests his head on top of yours, reaching down to grab your hand. Even if you were stuck here in this near-stranger’s house for longer than you’d like to be stuck, the little moments of comfort like this were helpful.

“Alright,” Changbin chirps up, setting down a couple cans of beer in front of you and Christopher. “Perk up, lovebirds, let’s party.”

“Okay!” Minho excitedly claps his hands together before cracking open his beer. “We’ll spin the bottle, and whomever it lands on gets to choose between telling the truth about something or a dare. If you back out, you’ve gotta take a drink of your beer. Got it?”

The game started off innocent enough, all of you were sticking to truths, and the questions were relatively mild. However, things started to take a turn when the drugs started to kick in. Minho wouldn’t stop touching Changbin, his fingers constantly trailing over the brunette’s chest. When it’s his turn, he spins the bottle, landing on Changbin.

“Dare,” Changbin says, confidently looking directly into Minho’s eyes.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Minho says, smirking as he turns to Christopher. “I dare you to make out with Christopher, if he’s okay with it, of course.”

“What?” Christopher spits out in shock.

“Aish, baby,” Changbin groans, “Why do you get like this every time we roll? You just want to watch me make out with other men and make them miserable.”

Minho grins, leaning over to Changbin to kiss his cheek. “It’s because you’re hot and you know it.”

You can feel a look of complete bewilderment being plastered on your face. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Was this seriously about to happen? Have they done this before?’ Almost as if it was on cue, Christopher turns to look at you.

“Are you okay with it? I know we’re not, like, dating or anything, but,” his voice trails off and he bites his bottom lip in, darting his eyes down to the floor.

“Yeah,” the word slips from your mouth before you have a chance to actually think about it. You were admittedly curious, thinking it would be kind of interesting to watch Christopher be a bit physical with someone else.

Christopher gives you a quick peck on your cheek before he turns to Changbin, “Do your worst.”

Without saying a word, Changbin crawls over towards Christopher, straddling his lap and taking his hands to Christopher’s face. The smaller man presses his lips to the blond’s lips, almost timidly at first, until Christopher takes his hands and grabs Changbin’s hips, pulling him in. “You can do better than that,” he whispers.

“Oh shit,” Minho says, leaning onto the table with a grin. “Binnie hates being teased, Channie.”

Changbin grumbles under his breath, reaching his hands up to Christopher’s hair, pulling his head back as he grinds down into his lap. Christopher lets out a small whimper from the pain and looks up at Changbin with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t talk back to me, hyung,” the brunette warns with a serious tone.

Changbin licks Christopher’s bottom lip before taking it in between his teeth. He bites it somewhat firmly, eliciting a gasp out of the man beneath him, then goes to let his tongue explore his mouth. The men let their hands travel on each other while kissing with a burning passion.

Admittedly, this was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen, all of this was causing you to feel warm and tingly as you watched it. This is what Christopher looked like when the two of you were rolling around in bed last night, and it was hot. You made a mental note to take control of your makeout session and to pull his hair the next time you were able to.

“Oh my god,” Minho groans, “Okay, that’s enough, I can’t watch anymore, it’s too good.” He sits back and takes a drink of beer from his can, dramatically fanning himself with his free hand. Changbin pulls away from Christopher and smirks, and Christopher has a blissed out smile on his face.

“You’re not my type, but I’ll admit you’re good,” Christopher says, wiping his lips with the back side of his hand.

“Yeah, I know,” Changbin says with a laugh as he gets up and walks back to his spot. He sits down, a wide grin on his face, before he takes a hearty drink from his beer. “Minho tells me all the time.”

Christopher turns to you, gets a bit closer, and pulls your face to his, kissing you passionately for a good few seconds. He breaks away from the kiss and moves to your ear. “I want you,” he whispers quietly, so Minho and Changbin can’t hear, “I’m going to make you mine again tonight.”

His words make you blush and smile. He pulls away from you and takes a drink from his beer. “That was something else,” you say, looking at Changbin, then Minho, then Christopher. “You’re all… close?”

Minho laughs, “Nah, we’re not normally like this. When we’ve been partying a little hard, though, things get interesting between us. Nothing more than this, though. I don’t wanna share my Binnie that much, just enough to make him squirm and come crawling back to me.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, you’re insufferable when we party hard like this. It’s always, ‘Binnie, make out with me, Binnie, make out with that hot guy over there, Binnie, Binnie, Binnie’ with you.” Minho playfully shoves Changbin’s shoulder and laughs.

“I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it, or me, so much,” he says, taking another drink of his beer. “Alright, Channie, it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” Christopher says, reaching out to spin the bottle. It takes a couple rotations, then it slows, and stops, pointing at you.

“Oh,” you say, looking at the bottle, then looking at Christopher. You weren’t feeling brave enough to do a dare, so you say “truth” with an upward inflection, almost like you were asking a question.

“You’re no fun,” Minho pouts. “Make it a good question, Channie.”

“Hmm,” Christopher brings his index finger to his chin, thinking for a moment. “I’ve got it, what’s the most embarrassing sex story you’ve got?”

Your face flushes and you look down to the floor in embarrassment. You begrudgingly admit there was the time a couple years ago with your last boyfriend, Jisung, that you had gotten a bit too eager and a bit too drunk, sneaking off to the nightclub’s washroom. Your boyfriend had propped you up on the sink, one of your legs was up in the air and over his shoulder. Right when you two were in the middle of having the fuck of your lives, some guy had walked in and immediately walked back out, since neither of you had remembered to lock the door. There was a definite walk of shame as both of you immediately got dressed and left as soon as possible.

Christopher busts up laughing, because apparently he’s walked in on something similar to that before. “I mean, it’s kinda hot to see something like that in public, but if it happened to me, I’d be mortified. I’d never show my face in public again.”

Changbin looks at Minho and grins, “Yeah, sounds like that one time I came back from Taiwan and you were too excited to see me that you couldn’t wait until we got home and demanded that I take you in the airport parking lot.”

Minho laughs in response, playfully slapping Changbin’s shoulder, then moving to spin the soju bottle. “You had a good time, so you don’t get to complain.” The bottle spins, eventually landing on Christopher. “What’s it gonna be, Mr. Voyeur?”

“Get bent,” Christopher scoffs, “let’s do a dare this time.”

“Ooh, fun,” Minho says. He opens his mouth to speak, but Changbin leans over to whisper something in his ear, slyly looking at you as he whispers. “Oh, good idea,” Minho chirps, grinning deviously at the both of you. “Go into the studio and record the vocals of you both having sex, then play it back for us when you’re done.”

“What?” You yell out in surprise, your face turning beet red.

“Challenge accepted,” Christopher says cooly, grabbing your hand and pulling you up before you can wrap your head around it.

“Wait, I don’t get to say anything about this?” You shriek out, slightly panicked, as you stand up and follow Christopher.

“C’mon, baby,” he says soothingly, “I’ve got you.” He stops in front of the door that Changbin was in earlier, opening it and turning the lights on. He guides you through the door, closing the door behind you. “Just sit in that chair right there,” he points to the chair in front of the control panel. “I’m gonna get some stuff set up behind the mic and then we can get started, okay?”

If you hadn’t taken the ecstasy tablet earlier and had a few drinks, you definitely would’ve said no to being recorded, but you figured it would be funny to see the reaction on Minho and Changbin’s faces when they heard both of you. Something about it really got you excited. Christopher adjusted some things in the recording booth, then came back out to the control panel, opening his laptop and flipping some switches on.

“Okay,” he says as he turns back to you, reaching his hands out to yours. “Let’s go.”

You let Christopher pull you up and lead you into the recording booth. Your stomach was doing backflips as you entered the room, taking in the atmosphere. It was calm and relaxing; the spotlights were dim and it made everything seem comforting. The foam padded on the walls absorbed most of the ambient noise, making everything seem abnormally quiet.

Christopher sat down on the padded chair and pulled you into his lap. You crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. The positioning was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind. He takes his hands and slides them up your shirt, pulling you closer to him. “Let’s give them a show, baby,” he says in a low whisper before he brings his lips to yours, kissing you with an intense need.

You decided to not waste any time, reaching down to pull the shirt you were wearing off, tossing it behind Christopher. Your bra follows in succession, and the man beneath you sighs as he stares at you, slowly looking you up from your torso to your eyes, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He kisses you again, this time in short pecks, before he moves his fingers to grab the waistband of your pants. You get up on to your feet, helping him pull your joggers and panties off, then go to undo his jeans, slipping them along with his boxers down to his ankles.

Christopher sucks in a breath as his cock springs up, free from his clothing. “I’ve been sitting out there so hard since Changbin wrecked me. I can’t wait to have you ride me, baby.” He looks down at you, his eyes completely glazed over as he bites his lip.

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing,” you say in a breathy voice, kneeling down in front of Christopher, your face right up next to his cock. He looks at you, eyes widening, about to say something, but you take him into your mouth before he can say anything. You slowly work him completely into your mouth, and he lets out a primal groan as he throws his head back, gripping the sides of his chair with a vise grip.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out, “that’s incredible, baby, don’t stop.”

You come back up, sucking your cheeks in and letting his cock leave your mouth with an audible pop. “I want to feel you, too. I’m just getting you prepped.” you whisper in a sultry voice as you crawl back over him. Christopher looks up at you with a pleading face, upset that you stopped giving him head. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you all the attention you need later. I want you right now.” As you say that, you reach down and guide him inside of you.

Christopher grabs your hips, helping get himself into you. As you slide down onto him, there’s a warmth that spreads throughout you, making you feel like your nerves are on overdrive. A breathy, shaky moan unintentionally escapes your lips. You open your eyes and look down at Christopher; the blissed out look on his face is something you could drink in for days. He looked like only wanted you, that you two were meant to be together, at least for now.

He breathes out your name as you slowly grind your hips down into his, then take them up, almost removing yourself from him completely. You bite your lip, smiling at Christopher, before you thrust yourself right back down on him.

“Fuck,” he groans, digging his fingernails into your hips as his chin falls to his chest. “Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says as he looks back up at you, taking one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. It’s passionate and messy and you can’t get enough of it; the way his tongue rolls around in your mouth as you ride him up and down causes your nerves to tingle from head to toe.

Just when you think you have enough stimulation to start building you up to your orgasm, Christopher removes his hand from your head, interrupts your kiss to lick his thumb, and he starts rubbing it up against your clit. Your eyes snap open and roll backwards as you groan into his mouth, your entire body starting to feel like a supernova with all of the stimulation.

“I’m gonna make sure you come with me,” he breathes out, continuing to roll his thumb in circles against you. “You’re mine and only mine. Fuck,” he moans as you grind up on him, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your mind is reeling from all of the stimulation, the ecstasy and the alcohol causing everything to feel magnified, like you would never feel something so good in your entire life again. “You, Christopher, you,” you breathe out, panting heavily, “I belong to you.”

“Yeah,” he groans, taking control and thrusting in and out of you faster, “You’re mine. Now come for me, baby.”

Something about the way he demanded you to come made all the tension inside of you release, caused all of your nerves to sing in harmony for a moment. Christopher did one more rotation of his thumb against your clit, and that was it, it was enough. Your orgasm completely took control of your body, making you arch your back and writhe against him. You shouted his name so loud, you were sure that Changbin and Minho could hear it through all of the soundproofing in the studio.

“Good girl,” Christopher praises, breathing heavily, “I’m gonna come inside you, baby, I want you to take it all for me.” His voice seems like it’s across the room, like you’re so far away from him that it’s difficult to hear. Everything, even the air, feels soft against you. You manage to mumble out something, although you’re not quite sure what it was, as you collapse into Christopher. His breathing speeds up as he digs his fingernails into your back as he grinds up into you one last time, and you feel his cum fill you up.

It takes a few minutes for both of you to come back to reality. When you do, you notice how sore and sticky you both are, like you could use a shower right now. You nuzzle up to Christopher’s neck, giving it a few light kisses before you sit up and look at him. “Wow,” you say, “that was mind-blowing.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, looking at you with a silly grin on his face, “that was somehow better than last night. But I definitely need a shower. Who would’ve thought that this studio got so hot?” Both of you laugh in agreement, and peel yourselves off of each other. You both get dressed and walk out into the control room; Christopher fumbles with his laptop and turns off some of the switches on the panelling.

“Shall we?” He says, walking up to the door. “We can make them listen to it in here.” He opens the door for you, and you both see Minho kneeling on the floor in front of Changbin, his head bobbing up and down in a familiar motion.

“Shit! Minho, stop!” Changbin exclaims with a whine, trying to get Minho off of him. They fumble around a bit as you turn around in secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Christopher groans, “Really? You couldn’t wait until we went to bed?”

“You two are loud,” Minho whines in protest, “And with you and Binnie earlier I couldn’t help it!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, bringing your hands to rub your temples.

“Well, the recording’s saved to my laptop, so we fulfilled the dare,” Christopher says before grabbing your hand and walking you both towards his room, “We’re gonna shower and go to bed. Have fun, lovebirds.”

“Fuck off,” you hear Changbin groan as you both walk into Christopher’s bedroom.

“Well, that was,” your voice trails off, still in disbelief from what you had seen, “unexpected?”

Christopher groans again, removing his clothes, “Nah, they do this all the time. If it’s just the three of us and we’ve been drinking or taking drugs, Minho can’t control himself around Changbin. It doesn’t bother me, but I’m sorry you had to witness it firsthand. C’mon, let’s go shower.” He wiggles his fingers in a come-hither motion before he slips off into the washroom.

“It’s fine,” you say, disrobing as you make your way to the washroom. Christopher is already in the walk-in shower, setting the temperature to something tolerable. “It was unexpected, but it didn’t bother me. They obviously care about each other and I respect that.”

Christopher laughs, motioning for you to get in. “Yeah, they’re really good for each other.” You step in the shower behind him, enjoying the warm water as it splashes on your skin. “Changbin was an absolute asshole before he met Minho, though. You might think he’s abrasive now, but he was completely cold and closed off back then.”

You stick your head under the shower head, wetting your hair down, then turn to look up at Christopher. “I’ve known Changbin since we were in middle school. He was always quiet and nobody really wanted to be friends with him because he was so standoffish. Always rubbed people the wrong way.

“We didn’t mean to become kkangpae, it was just a matter of survival. Producing music got us nowhere financially, but one of the connections we had said we could make enough money to live if we just sold some stuff now and then. Turns out, we were really good at it. But the bigger you grow, the harder you fall.” Christopher sighs, sticking his head under the water for a minute before he leans up against the wall.

“A couple years ago, we were in Shanghai. Changbin and I were ordered to secure this big deal with the Triad, worth a couple hundred million won. It was a big fucking deal, and incredibly dangerous. Shit went south really fast. One of the new guys, Minho, was ordered to come with us to learn the ropes. He wasn’t supposed to come with us when we met with the Triad’s higher ups, but Changbin was angry that shit wasn’t going right and he ordered Minho to come with as a ‘learning experience’.”

You listened attentively with bated breath, watching the water bounce off of Christopher’s skin as you focused on his story. Based on what you heard earlier between the argument between Christopher and Changbin, you knew this wasn’t going to go well.

“It was horrible,” Christopher sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “The Triads were pulling out of the deal and Changbin got pissed. I’d never seen him so angry in my life. We were working on leaving, trying to get away before things got violent, but one of the guys on their side was trigger happy - must’ve been new too. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it directly at Changbin. Fucking Minho…”

Christopher sucked in some air through his gritted teeth, and you could tell that reliving this experience was painful for him. He was biting back tears and his eyes were turning red. “Minho pushed him out of the way, which is what you’re supposed to be willing to do for your superior, but he got shot in the lung and in the leg because of it. Changbin was furious, he wasn’t gonna let them kill one of his men. He had his gun in his hand, ready to shoot at them, before I intervened, somehow getting us out of there. Honestly, I don’t know how we made it out of there alive. Minho was in the hospital in Shanghai for a couple of months, then was sent to a rehabilitation facility here in Seoul when he was stable enough to travel.”

Christopher looks over at you, seeing the look of concern on your face. “He’s fine now, but he doesn’t work in the field anymore. Changbin helped nurse him back to health once he was back home in Seoul, visiting him at the rehabilitation centre every day for three months straight. I think there was something going on between them before Shanghai, but after they spent all of that time with each other, they really fell hard. They’ve been living together ever since. Changbin doesn’t want Minho out of his sight, understandably.”

“Holy shit,” you say, shaking your head, “that’s horrible. I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah,” Christopher says, standing back upright and wiping under his eyes, “this life isn’t for the weak-willed. A couple of brothers have died just in the past two years. Most of us have gotten shot or stabbed or had the shit beaten out of us. We’ve got enough money to bribe the cops to stay off our backs, but it’s exhausting to never have the comfort of security. I’m so sorry to have brought you into this. I never wanted to drag another civilian into this.”

You reach up to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumbs. “It’s alright, Christopher. We couldn’t have predicted this. Now, we just need to get through it one day at a time.”

He looks up to you and smiles weakly. “Well, in that case, I hope I can make you happy during the time we’re stuck here. I’m here for you.”

“I’m here for you, too. How about we finish up showering and go to bed? It’s gotta be late.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he says, leaning down to give you a short, soft kiss.

You wake up in Christopher’s bed, wearing an oversized, well worn t-shirt of his. The voices of Changbin and Christopher float in from under the closed door, but you can’t really make out exactly what they’re saying. After a minute of slowly waking up, you slip on the pair of joggers Christopher loaned to you yesterday and head out to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you groggily say as you make your way to the countertop.

“Oh, morning. Did we wake you?” Christopher says in a hushed voice, standing between the island counter and the refrigerator. Changbin is sitting on a barstool on the opposite side for Christopher. You look around for Minho and see that he’s still passed out on the couch, softly snoring away.

“No, no, I needed to get up.”

“Ah, alright. I’ve got some stuff in the fridge. Changbin was nice enough to grab some groceries and prepped food for us, so I’ll make something nice for lunch in a bit. There’s some mugs up here and I have coffee pods for the maker right here,” he pulls open a drawer and there’s an array of various different types of coffee, which is just what you needed.

The idea of a home-cooked meal sounded really nice. You wondered if Christopher was a good cook or not; judging by the fact that his fridge was pretty empty yesterday, you assume that he’s probably too busy to cook, and likely eats a lot of takeout, you weren’t confident that he was good at cooking.

You fumble a coffee pod into the maker and grab a mug from one of the cupboards. Christopher gives you a soft peck on the top of your head and turns back to Changbin.

“Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal,” Changbin continues their conversation, taking a swig of coffee from his cup. “After your call with Xiaojian the night before last, Han reached out to me and said he’d come here later today to take care of the deal you’d been working on. He just got back from Beijing last night.”

Han. Hearing that family name made you do a quick double take. It had been a year since you and Han Jisung had split, coming to a mutual agreement that your relationship wasn’t going anywhere. You were busy travelling thanks to your career, and he had just taken up a big job that he didn’t like to talk about. The way he acted over it, you assumed he was probably having an affair and just used his new job as a cover.

The coffee maker made a gentle ting noise as it finished brewing your cup. You take the mug and immediately bring it up to your lips, grateful for the warm beverage to help wake you up.

“Han?” Christopher questions, shifting his weight on to one foot. “You really trusted Han Jisung with that?”

Holy shit. You spit out your coffee as soon as it touches your lips and haphazardly slam the mug on to the counter. “I’m sorry,” you exclaim, “Did you say Han Jisung?” There was absolutely no way that they were talking about your ex-boyfriend. No way. He had a relatively common name, but hearing it still shocked you.

Changbin and Christopher turn to look at you, surprised by your question. “Yeah, Christopher says, an alarmed tone to his voice, “You probably don’t know him, though. He’s quiet, introverted, and doesn’t get attached to people.”

Oh shit.

“The Jisung I knew was introverted but he would bleach his hair every month or so; he likes to stick out a bit from everyone else. Looks cute when he eats because his cheeks puff up like a squirrel. He also produces music and he’s about your height.” You ramble off random facts you remembered about him, but the more you divulged, the wider Changbin’s eyes got.

“Fucking squirrel,” Changbin sighs. “How do you know him?”

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you look at Changbin, the look on his face making you uneasy. “We dated for a few years before he left me for a new job. I thought he was just saying that because he was having an affair and felt guilty, though.”

“Shit,” Changbin sighs, and lets his head fall into his hands. “He said he had broken up with his girlfriend when he joined up with us. She was a model, too.”

Christopher looks mortified. “What?” He shakes his head and looks at you, wide-eyed and taken aback. “You dated Han?”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse this week, it seems like your expectations had been lowered yet again.

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #skz smut #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #bang chan x reader #chris bang x reader #drug dealer au #i am so emotional over this chapter holy shit #putting the bang in bang chan lol #changbin x minho #seo changbin x lee minho #step out do what you want #skzsmutnet #skzsmutnetwork #wherevermyway

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