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grampsoninspace · 2 years ago

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doctor’s orders.

Please, don’t let it be him.

Please no…

Please!

“Good evening,” a warm voice interrupts your silent pleading with whatever force is listening. There’s strain in the usual honeyed tone, which jerks your chin upward with an invisible string. Your panicked thoughts are replaced by your emergency mode, your hands trembling with adrenaline at the pain in the man’s voice.

“What did you do now?” you hiss, assessing the patient visually before you even get close to him, watching blood drip steadily from a wound just shy of his temple.

Captain Howzer smiles up at you with mischief in his brown eyes.

“I got a little too close to the action, Doc,” he shrugs.

“How many times do I have to tell you? The blood belongs inside of your body, Captain. For Maker’s sake, can we go a single week without you risking life and limb for the nearest being?” You pull your gloves on with an angry snap.

“Well… it is my job,” he tells you, trying to sound the slightest bit remorseful and failing miserably.

“I don’t care if it’s your job — it’s going to be a little hard to do it if you’re dead,” you shake your head, starting to remove his armor to assess the rest of him.

“You’re fussing again,” Howzer’s voice drops in octave and volume, much too near your ear.

“Well, that is my job,” you mimic his accent poorly, daring to look back into his eyes as you remove his chest plate.

His full lips are twisted in the faintest smile, and he is watching your every move. You roll your eyes but you can feel yourself blush, choosing instead to focus on removing his pauldrons, gauntlets, and gloves.

“I know... I like it when you fuss over me,” he leans forward and yanks the top of his blacks off with one hand, exposing his skin down to his waist.

You turn back to face him and remind yourself with a deep breath and a mental lashing that you are a fucking professional and you will do your job without incident or…

Or…?

What were you saying?

“Well?” he prompts.

“Hm?” you raise your eyebrows, pretending you were listening.

He leans back with his palms flat on the exam table, his knees farther apart than you remember. “I asked you a question.”

“Which was?” you ask, frowning, silently cursing yourself.

“I asked what your diagnosis was,” he smirks.

“I don’t know yet,” you rub your forehead with the back of your hand. “I need to get your head cleaned up first. Do you feel pain or discomfort anywhere else?”

“No pain…” His smile is teasing. “But I still expect a thorough examination. I could be in shock.”

You give him a look. “Behave yourself, Captain.”

Howzer holds his hands up. “I’m just asking you to do your job, Doc. I wouldn’t expect any less but the closest attention to detail when you’re in charge.”

You swallow, and he won’t look away from your eyes — even as you start to gently clean the wound on his forehead and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, grabbing your wrist roughly and trying to pull your hand away.

Your stomach flips but you give him a stern look.

“Captain. When I said to behave yourself, I clearly meant you need to allow me to do my job.”

“Warn me next time,” he growls, releasing you.

“I did!” You smack his hand down. “I told you I had to clean your head…”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” he smirks up at you as you continue removing the blood from his skin. You press harder in retaliation and he grabs both of your wrists.

“Stop being belligerent or I’ll let you fuckin’ bleed to death,” you tell him through gritted teeth.

“Which one happens first?” he asks, your wrists still bound in the shackles of his rough hands.

“What—?” you ask, scrunching up your face.

“You said you’d let me fuck and bleed to death,” he repeats, pulling you forward and tugging your hands behind his back so your face is much too close to his.

“Do you think it could be in that order?” he drops his voice down deep and low, his breath warm on your skin.

“You know damn well I did not say that,” you tell him, trying to sound sure of yourself, but your voice shakes.

“Do I?” he asks, searching your face with his dilated eyes.

“Should I check your hearing?” you ask sharply, but his gaze lands on your lips.

“What?” he jokes, and you sigh in his face.

“Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he leans back just enough to let your hips rest in the V his legs have made. “Say my name, and I’ll be good for you.”

“This is very unprofessional behavior,” you frown.

“I’m no snitch,” he whispers. “Besides, is it against protocol for you to use your patient’s name?”

“Of course not,” you sigh again. “But I’m using your title as a sign of respect, just as I would do with anyone else.”

“And I love that about you, but I wanna hear you say my name,” he grips your wrists harder, gives you a little yank, and you arch into him involuntarily.

“Captain Howzer…” you say, trying to keep your tone even and clinical.

“Close,” he smiles but shakes his head. “But no. Just say my name, and I’ll behave.”

You take a deep breath, knowing he’s absolutely full of shit without running a single test to prove it.

“Howzer…” you say in a low voice, your temple pressed against his. He hums low in his throat, and the vibration of it in his chest seems to travel wherever your body is touching his.

You let your lips brush his ear: “Can you please allow me to finish my exam now?”

“Yes ma’am,” he rumbles, letting go of your wrists and planting his hands on the edge of the table again.

His eyes are closed and he keeps very still as you clean his head wound, patching it with bacta and exploring the rest of the lines in his face, running your fingers over the deep scar on his cheek.

“Field medic work,” he smiles, leaning into your touch. “Didn’t have your finesse.”

“Doesn’t change anything,” you blurt out quietly.

His eyes slide open and they are darker than a starless night. “Hm?”

“You know,” you frown, pushing his face to the side to check his neck and shoulders with careful hands.

“What do I know?” he asks, his cheek twitching with how badly he’s trying not to smirk. “What doesn’t the field medic’s work change?”

You sigh roughly in the back of your throat as you move around the table to check his back. “Your… face.”

“Oh, because every clone has the same one?” he asks, a defensive lilt to his teasing.

“No!” you poke him in the shoulder blade, hard.

“Then what?” he twists, to try to make you look at him again, but you push him forward.

“What did you promise me?” you frown. “Be still, Howzer.”

He inhales deeply and sits up with perfectly straight posture. You run your hands down his spine, then press your fingers where you know injured organs would reveal tender spots. He doesn’t flinch, but you don’t know if that’s his training or an actual lack of pain. Nothing seems out of place, but knowing him, he’s probably hiding something.

“Get up,” you pat his shoulder.

He obeys, standing perfectly at attention.

And as you help him remove his lower armor, it’s very apparent that he’s not the only one.

You instantly blush, despite having seen countless human bodies in all different contexts… your whole body flushes with warmth which travels between your legs. You’re removing his knee pads and the feelings you’re having are so improper you feel yourself blushing harder with shame…

“Sorry Doc,” he says quietly. “Natural reaction.”

“To what?” you blurt out, looking up from your kneeling position into his face.

He smirks. “I think we both know you know the answer to that… You’re a doctor. You know how the human body functions in these situations…”

You shake your head. “I’m making sure you’re not going to die of internal injuries, Howzer. I’m not doing anything to try and…cause this.”

“Don’t have to,” he says, low and rough. “You just are.”

Your fingers are still on his thigh, just about to get him to lift his foot to let you remove his boot, when you stop and feel your jaw go slack.

“Please stand up,” he asks. You oblige him, and he sits back up on the exam table, obediently removing his boots for you without breaking eye contact once. You swallow around your dry throat, taking in the sight of him there in nothing but the bottom half of his blacks, which he’s now standing again to remove.

Howzer sits back up on the exam table in just his dark briefs, which — despite their color — are not doing much to hide the topic of your discussion.

Why do I want it in my mouth?

Your eyes are wide when you meet his gaze again, thankful beyond belief that he can’t read your mind. But he smiles softly like he can.

Why is that a thought I’m having right now, when I should be making sure he isn’t in any more pain?

You try to snap out of it, distracting yourself by looking fo contusions or abrasions, any signs of internal injuries or dislocated bones… You put your gloved hand on his thigh to inspect a discoloration there and his body reacts visibly to your touch.

“Howzer…” you whisper, “Should I stop?”

“Please don’t,” he breathes, reaching out to grip the wrist closest to his bare skin.

“I… I need you to stand up and turn around,” you tell him quietly, and he does as he’s told, letting you peruse the backs of his legs and the bottoms of his feet.

When he turns around again, he’s mere inches from your body, his muscles taut and his face hyper-focused on yours.

“I don’t see any other… problems,” you swallow, your voice barely audible. “You’re free to dress and go now.”

“But I don’t want to,” he shrugs, lifting his hands to cradle your face.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He brushes his nose against yours, touches your foreheads together, rubs his cheekbone up and down your cheek.

You can feel the rough texture of the skin on his face and let a soft sound escape your careful throat.

Howzer locks onto that sound like a heat-seeking missile, pressing his hand gently to your throat and repeating the motion he thinks you liked — his cheek pressed to yours.

You whimper lightly, just barely audible, and he loses his careful control to what he wants most.

He kisses you so hard it snaps your head back; you gasp into his mouth and he takes that as an invitation, exploring inside with his tongue. He only breaks the seal your lips have made to let you breathe, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw and down your neck, hungrily making his way down to taste as much of your skin as he can reach.

His hands move from your face and neck to unbutton your uniform coat, pushing it down off your shoulders onto the floor, sliding his long fingers under the shirt you wear beneath.

“I want this off,” he tells you, and you nod your permission, lifting your arms to let him strip you from the waist up.

He removes your bra so quickly and easily it gives you the slightest moment of hesitation and doubt, wondering how many women he’s collected inside the warmth of his body just like this. But his hands are holding your breasts and his tongue is in your mouth again, and you quickly forget your fears. His fingers travel down to the waistband of your pants, and you don’t think you’ve ever taken them off so quickly in your entire lifetime.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking at you in nothing but your underwear. “You’re perfect.”

“Prove it,” you tease him. “You get naked first.”

He smiles at you with bright eyes, yanking his underwear down and hopping up to lie back on the exam table with his arms behind his head, all too comfortable.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asks, eyes closed, body stretched out for your (scientific) inspection.

You remove your gloves and run your fingertips from his broad shoulders to his hip bones, watching his dick twitch at the attention of your hands.

“I think you’re perfectly…healthy, Captain,” you tell him, your eyes landing on the glorious thickness he’s been hiding in those briefs.

Howzer props himself up on one elbow, turning just enough to ripple more muscles like a statue carved of some ancient god from another galaxy.

“Your turn,” he drawls, gesturing with his finger toward your underwear, and you shake your head.

“Oh now that’s just not fair,” he crows, climbing back down off the exam table and putting his hands on your hips, changing tactics.

“Do you want me to take them off for you?” he gives you a half-smile, his eyes blazing a path from your bare breasts to the fabric between him and his goal.

You nod slowly, pushing your hips just slightly forward as he dips his thumbs in the band around your waist.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says quietly.

“Please take them off,” you try to whisper, but it comes out like a whine. He looks into your eyes expectantly, wiggling his thumbs but not moving his hands any more than that.

“Howzer…” you groan. “Please.”

“That’s better,” he pushes your underwear to the floor and runs his hands back up your legs as you step out. “Isn’t it?”

He kisses you again, softer this time but no less hungry, pulling you back with him onto the exam table. He wraps his arms around you until you’re flush on top of him, nipping at your lips and running his hands all over your body, seeking friction by pressing his hips up into yours…

“Would you like to ride me, sweetheart?” he rasps, his erection pressed against your hip, his heart pounding in his chest against yours. “Because I’d like nothing more than to see you get on top and use me however you want.”

You know your face must look like you’re in pain, the need for him so strong it feels like your heart could stop. You move your knees apart and brace yourself, letting him help you to a more upright position, crawling back until you’re hovering right above him.

You look into his eyes as you guide him to your entrance, inhaling shakily as you feel the tip slide past your resistance, shoving your knees farther apart and dropping slowly to take him deeper. His eyes practically roll back in his head the farther down you go, groaning low in his throat when he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

The two of you stay very still for a long moment, just breathing while you both adjust. When you start to move on him, he looks up at you heavy-lidded and reaches up to grope your breasts, moaning a bit as you sink your fingernails into his shoulders trying to find a rhythm you both like. You roll your hips and grip him good as you do, filthy curses escaping his swollen lips with every thrust.

Howzer lifts his knees slightly to support you, gripping your hips tight as you ride him hard, forgetting every reason you shouldn’t be doing this as you lose yourself to the feeling of him inside of you as his hands explore your ass.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this?” he asks roughly, one hand gripping your ass, the other running up your back to grab a fistful of your hair. You shake your head, unable to form cohesive thoughts as you move on him faster, your need for him only increasing the harder you fuck him.

He sits up suddenly, spreading his legs and bending his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and staring right in your eyes as he fucks you right back.

You run your hands through his hair, rubbing the fuzz where his head is shaved and crying out as he hits the perfect spot while holding you this close.

“Since day one,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted you like this since I first met you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about taking you right here, just like this…”

He grunts as you clench around him, wetter than ever and panting his name, blissfully close to him making you cum in his lap right on your fucking exam table.

“Fuck me, Howzer,” you beg him, all sense of propriety lost in the lustful haze clouding your brain and flooding your body with heat. “Please just fuck me.”

“No, baby,” he denies you. “I want this to last.”

“But I’m so close,” you whine, pushing him down on his back and riding him harder.

He moves his hand from your hip to press his fingertips to your clit, not bothering to move them with how quickly your hips are rocking, and your head rolls loosely on your neck as your back arches. You bite your lip to keep from screaming as he drags the orgasm right out of you with his lazy fingers and his ridiculously perfect cock.

“Howzer, I can’t, I’m gonna…” you whine, and he pulls himself up again, locking eyes with you as he feels you hit your threshold, a strangled moan slipping out of you as he keeps you close while you cum.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes as you start to slow your movements to a near-stop, “Are we done already?”

“Sit up,” you tell him, climbing off of him and the table, kneeling and watching him swing his legs over the side.

“Am I already due for another exam—” he chokes on his teasing remark as you take his leaking dick into the tight wetness of your mouth, rolling your tongue underneath him and hollowing your cheeks.

“Fucking Maker,” Howzer groans, his hands instantly tangling in your hair, hips bucking toward your face. “You keep that up and I’m not going to last much longer either.”

Your only reply is to bob your head, taking him deeper toward your throat with each motion, using your hands to grip what can’t fit inside your mouth.

“Oh sweet fuck,” he growls, turning into an absolute mess as you stare up into his eyes while you suck him off. He doesn’t know where to put his hands and he’s trying so hard to let you do what you want, but you can feel him throbbing and you know he’s ready to lose it.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want me to cum, but you’d better decide fast,” he rasps, his eyes squeezing shut.

You keep him in your mouth, but pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around his already-sensitive tip. He groans and shoves his dick deeper in your mouth, yanking your head back by the hair as he loses control. He cums down your throat with a series of grunts and moans your name when he’s finally finished. You swallow every drop, content to lick him lazily until he groans and tugs on your hair to make you stop, guiding your face back up to his.

“You’re mine now, I hope you know,” he growls in your ear, his scarred cheek pressed to yours as he does.

You nod in agreement, feeling his fingers slip between your legs again as he kisses you gently at first…

But you make sure to call him “Captain” when he makes you cum the second time, with nothing but his tongue.

#bad batch #bad batch fic #captain howzer #captain howzer x reader #howzer x reader #clone trooper howzer #tbb howzer #howzer my beloved #howzer x female reader #star wars tbb #tbb fanfiction #sw tbb #sw tbb fanfic #star wars smut #grampsoninspace #be nice it’s my first post lol

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cheollipop · 1 year ago

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Ohhh!! Congratulations on reaching the 2k milestone!! So so proud of you and happy for you!! With your writing and ideas you deserve so many more followers!! Here’s to hoping you gain more in the time you stay here!!

also don’t think about being squished between wooyoung, seonghwa and san as they congratulate you for all your hard work by ruining you on their cocks and smothering you in kisses and praises 💕😘

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

aah;; thank you so much roo!! I appreciate you soso much, seriously. tysm for all your support!! <3<3 how dare you add a kiss emoji after that sentence istg I'm gonna kiss fight you 🫵 made me short-circuit or whatever >_< the visual though.....yummy. this is a little short bc writing four people is kinda difficult shfhjd happy reading!~

pairing: jung wooyoung x choi san x fem!reader x park seonghwa

w.c.: 0.5k

tags: smut, cockwarming, oral (f), fluffy, praise, a sprinkle of mxm

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Leaning back into Seonghwa’s chest, the sweat on your back binding with that covering his skin and spreading heat through the new point of contact, his arms encircling your waist to push you further into his lap. Plush lips pressed against your temple, and his thumb rubbed soothing lines over your side while he rutted up into you, his cock encased within your throbbing heat, still while the other two ravished you.

San’s mouth left trails of spit over down your body, his tongue catching the alkaline taste of your sweat as it moved back up to your neck, his lips brushing over Seonghwa’s before returning to sucking bruises into your delicate skin. Soft groans sounded in your ears, San’s in the left and Seonghwa’s in the right, the squelch of your pussy taking his cock harmonizing with that of the veiny hand pumping San’s pulsing length.

Wooyoung’s tongue wrapped around your clit, his body laid fat between your legs as he rutted into the mattress, sucking on your stretched entrance to catch the slick gushing out. One hand rested on your inner thigh, lax as you spread yourself out without his intervention, the other worked over San’s cock, feeling it twitch as he squeezed out an endless stream of precum from the angry cockhead.

Seonghwa’s voice—rumbly with lust—flowed into your ear, “our good girl, is she enjoying her little party?”

You nodded, rolling your head back to rest on his shoulder while restlessly fidgeting on his cock. San, with your nipple trapped between his teeth, chuckled.

“She’s getting needy,” he flicked the perked-up bud with his pointer, leaning back to take you in properly, a sigh leaving his lips when Wooyoung squeezed around his base. “Oh darling, but we’ve only just begun.”

“Stop teasing our precious angel,” with an irritated huff, Wooyoung gave your clit a harsh suck before pulling away, looking up at the older man with impatience painting his features. “Hyung, fuck her properly or I will.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, yet pushed Wooyoung out the way and bent his body forward, gently placing you down on your stomach with his cock still stuffed inside you. He watched how it sunk into your tight hole, how your inner thighs were coated with your arousal, throbbing inside you at the visual. Rutting his hips at a languid pace, all three men silently watched how Seonghwa buried himself in your heat, the veiny shaft disappearing behind your ass with every thrust. Wooyoung’s sudden “hurry” dragged him out of his thoughts, and he knew he had to get on with it if the others wanted to have a turn as well. Though with Wooyoung wrapped around San’s broader figure, his hand reaching forward to once again wrap around his cock while San fucked up and into his fist, it seemed as though they might not need to ravish you after all.

Seonghwa pressed himself to your back, your chests rising and falling in unison and his hot breath fanning over your cheek, a soft whisper against your heated skin igniting a million fires within you,

“Let me show our pretty baby just how proud she’s made us.”

#panda's 2k sleepover o(≧▽≦)o #choi san x reader #park seonghwa x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #choi san smut #park seonghwa smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez smut #choi san scenarios #park seonghwa scenarios #jung wooyoung scenarios

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the-daiz · 4 months ago

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#3— sink your fangs deeper

—Angstober day 3: Self-destruction

Pairing; Kurapika x reader

Warning(s); self-destruction, panic attack(s), unhealthy everything, unspecified relationship status, a tad confusing,

Synopsis; silent acknowledgment and comforting Kurapika.

✎Word count; 0.4k

♪ Playlist; Why didn't you stop me?

A/N: Read between the lines.👍 Also, a little (and probably short-lived) break from opm stuff. I miss kurapika.

Deep strangled breathes. Always those uneven pants, laden with pent-up exhaustion and incessant stress.

You'd seen him in this state so frequently— if you happened to hear those unpleasant heaves from another room, you could almost involuntarily visualize the current physical state he was in.

Hands clutching around his eyes. Teeth grinding together— causing his breaths to come out a seething hiss. Back slumped forward, either sitting on a chair or pushed against a wall.

Your heartbeat quickened upon hearing the familiar sound. It was like instinct. When you drew in a strained breath through your nose. And when your legs tugged toward the sound. It was a habit.

You despised seeing what he did to himself. How he actively refuses to take better care of his mental— and occasionally physical, wellbeing.

He says it's to keep the anger searing within him. Stinging and burning him with every step he took. Ensuring he never forgets.

What could you tell him? You weren't in any position to talk either. Your own journey wasn't exactly mentally sane either.

Nonetheless, anxiety crept up your form as you wordlessly walked over to him, eyebrows drawing inward.

Again, he sat on the edge of the bed. An elbow propped against his knee with his hand over his face. His slouched back rises and falls with his inhales and exhales in unrhythmic beats.

You slowly took a seat beside him, the bed sinking as it molded to your frame.

He felt his brows furrow further at your presence. He hated whenever you had to see him like this, and he hated how much he yearned for your solace. Any form of solace.

He shakily looked at you, his hand jerking away slightly. Your lips pursed as you caught sight of his eyes, drawn and sunken with grief.

He felt his chest constrict at your face. It was lined with exhaustion too but radiated surrender.

He hated wanting to take advantage of your crippled sense of need.

Your palm pressed against his arm, prying his grip further away from his temple with an exchanged tacit look of understanding. His breathing continued to fall short and rapid, features creasing the longer they lingered on yours.

After a beat of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, his body latching onto yours in desperation. You let your hands lightly embrace his torso, letting his trembling form pour its weight onto your deteriorating mind.

His nails indented into your back as he clutched your attire tighter, his back arching and mending into yours. You simply bit the inside of your cheek and endured the stinging he wracked with his quivering hold, allowing him to let out all he could.

#angstober2024 #day 03 #Hunter x hunter #kurapika x reader #hxh #hunterxhunter #kurapika #angst #platonic kurapika x reader #maybe?#kurapika angst #kurapika x reader angst #l-a #help me #i'm a little late today woops #daisy loves angst #unhealthy relationship #kurapika hxh

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passmethatcokezero · 2 years ago

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Breakfast in bed (18+ // hoshi!friends to lovers au)

soonyoung x fem!reader 7.8k words warnings: minors dni! first timers (breaking your fasts as virgins *wink wink*), unprotected sex (this is pure fiction! please wear protection irl!!), horny soonyoung like so horny since he has been wanting you since years ago and he finally gets to lay his hands on you, smut with oh so little fluff at the end, thinking if I will be writing a part two just because i think this needs more lol. visual gifs here and there.

a/n: it has been a long time since I posted. anyway this has been in my drafts, so here you go!

Ding dong ding dong ding dong!

The impatience gave it away. It's probably your very first lover - so fresh it all finally began yesterday. All the mutual pining, push and pull, every tease from his clique, every set-up from your friends – all did not go in vain when Soonyoung courageously, albeit oh so painfully slowly confessed his erratic heart beats whenever you send him a meme, his voice memos full of unspoken feelings he records every time he thinks he is going to explode (and he doesn’t want to let his friends know), and his little dimple that only comes out of his shy smile upon getting a whiff of your perfume that lingered in his car.

“Hi, girlfriend,” he smirks as you open the door right when the clock strikes seven. “Flowers for the lovely lady who looks gorgeous with bed hair.” a cute remark followed by a sweet peck on your lips, but nonetheless earns him a smack on the chest as you tried to fix your “bed hair”. Although you have already prepped up and showered after your early morning workout, nothing beats staying on your bed on a Sunday.

“What makes you so early – all dressed up?” you set the flowers in your empty vase by the tv as he makes himself comfortable on your sofa, all the while thinking if you missed a prior commitment as Soonyoung’s default plus one.

“I did not dress up! This is how good I usually look,”

“Nah you’re trying to impress your girl, aren’t you?”

“I am just ALWAYS this impressive, miss.”

“Okay fine, mister,” you pulled him into the dining area for breakfast. “Come, I’ll make you breakfast before that gets in your head.”

Of course, being in love with him for years had you yearning for his warmth, but you have never imagined how Soonyoung can be clingy like this; he just cannot leave an inch between your bodies ever since he stepped in your apartment.

“What are we cooking?”

“Well…” you leaned your back on his chest, stroking his arms that embraced your waist. “...what does my boyfriend want to eat for breakfast?”

It was ticklish, the way he nozzles his nose against your ears, kissing your temples in the midst of it. “Hmm… what do I want for breakfast…?” he softly speaks.

Your legs started to tremble as his deep voice swiftly raced to your core. “Y-Yeah, I have eggs, pancakes? Or maybe you want salad –”

“You…”

The word escapes his mouth as soon as his lips distanced away from your temples from a sweet kiss.

More than ticklish, it was arousing to the fact that you almost gave in when his hands traveled inside your shirt.

“S-Soonyoung…” you chuckled lightly as you faced him. “You’re so funny you know!”

“What?”

“You’ve been wanting me like this all this time, and you never said a word?”

He bites his lip in embarrassment, or in something else as he locks his sight in yours. “Well… okay I was a coward I admit. But now, I am brave enough to make advances since you’re mine.”

“As early as seven? Come on, we can do that later I promise. Let’s just –”

“That can wait.” He caught your lips for a kiss he had always wanted to share with you, other than the sweet one yesterday. The lip-locking went on for a while, going wet in less than ten seconds into it. You can feel his eagerness to savor every second of it, probably to make up for all the wasted opportunities he could have had.

You felt yourself being lifted up to the counter as he settled himself between your thighs without tearing away from the kiss. His desperation was on the surface now; he wanted you ever since, he wanted to kiss you so hard, so deep he might not feel his jaw afterwards. He wanted to touch every single inch of you, enough of just a friendly tap or high-five. He wanted you all his life, more than you know, more than what he confessed yesterday. More than your own feelings for him.

He gasps as he breaks away from the lewd kiss, realizing his hold on your thighs have been too tight for his own sake.

“Fuck, I could have kissed you like that every single day since junior high.”

“Damn, that long?” he trails kisses on your neck as he groans in frustration. “Well then… we should make the most of it now I guess?”

He perks up with a smile he can’t hide. “So… what do we do now?”

“I don’t know… whatever couples do.” you winked at him.

“Whatever adult couples do.”

Your body sprung on the mattress as he discarded his layers somewhere in the room, growling an authoritative “don’t” when you almost followed suit taking off your cozy, (sultry, in Soonyoung’s vocabulary), weekend wear.

He swims through the bed on his way to his prey kissing all the skin he passed through. “Let me do the undressing, princess.” With movements seemingly driven by excitement and arousal at the same time, every contact he makes feels electrocuting and the way his misty, naked body glides over makes your camisole dress reveal some of your torso.

“I can’t… I can’t believe it…” he chuckles, head dropping low as he settles on top of you. “You are mine now?” Looking up to meet your eyes, with his a bit moist with tears.

It was a little funny, him being emotional on the edge, but no doubt he has once again tugged your heartstrings. Soonyoung, your loud and energetic best friend, always fiery and full of passion, the diligent hard worker who plays harder, who is popular among his colleagues even past working hours, who most think he can't get enough of everyone’s attention when all he craves are yours…

Fuck. What's with Soonyoung's kisses? Just a moment ago, you were able to think straight and yet here you are, mind all hazed as if caused by your heavy, warm exhales. His kisses went everywhere, tasting every bit of your skin as his tongue travelled from your neck to your now bare chest. Heck you didn't even notice at which part did he undress your one cloth on.

No words were exchanged nor let out by any of you, only savoring the moment as if speaking might lose your focus - him, on his every act to make you feel good; and you, on feeling his hot cavern devouring fragments of your untouched flesh.

He starts to suck on one of your mounds as one hand grasps on the other, playing on both buds to stimulate you even more.

"S-Soonyo…" you cannot even finish his name. You've never made out with someone else, moreso gotten laid ever. It has always been you helping yourself, touching here and there, playing with yourself when your body aches for it.

Everything was new to you that it keeps you sending goosebumps all over, and getting your folds dripping since the session by the kitchen.

The anticipation rose as he goes down further, his kisses trailed in your abdomen to your waist, automatically making your thighs magnet upon feeling ticklish.

"Baby… can I…?" He asks softly, looking at you whose eyes shut to pleasure. Your contorted face feeds his ego to the core, smirking at the sight he himself created. "I bet you're so wet, you needed my mouth to sip all of it, huh?"

Your lips must have been bloodied right now. A fuel in the form of his words ignited your arousal to its peak, feeling some hot liquid dripping into your undies.

"Shit… just fucking do it."

The lack of touch for a while made you look at him, only to see a Kwon Soonyoung looking intently at your face, irises so dark and cloudy.

"Fuck... you look so hot like this. Can I hear you beg for me, baby?" He says, rather innocently and monotonously. But all you know he is already going nuts inside, hearing him choke on his own saliva.

"Please…" you wanted to rub your thighs together so bad you were almost squeezing with him in between. With all the desperation on your voice you blurted out with a moan, "Please… Soonyoung…. Please…."

Cursing in his breath after a groan, he aggressively pulls your panties down, rummaging your folds with his hungry mouth. Mind once again goes blank as you try to feel his every movement.

Finally, you got your pussy be eaten out. Oh the wonders it does, the nirvana it brings. You only heard stories and watched some on the dirty world of internet, but fuck. Being eaten out must have been the most pleasurable thing in the world to humans. You never realized if it has always been like that but the pleasure made you even want to thank the heavens for creating your pussy so sensitive, and so ready for eating.

His mouth conquers your south, savoring your arousal as he slurps on it. All the rubbing, the kissing, and the teasing was enough to make you a moaning mess you didn't even mind if your neighbors can hear. You've indulge in your fair share of overheard sex; now must have been the payback for it albeit unsure if they're at the other side.

"You're so sweet, baby, mhhm," His breath tickles your south as your mind went blank. Soonyoung had to smirk seeing your mouth hanging, feeling all good because of him. He continued moaning here and there as he pleases you in all the angles he knew, teasing you as he figured the vibrations must have been producing all this wetness: more for him to slurp.

"Ahh Soonyoung, you're so fucking good," you managed to speak in between breaths. "Soonyoung… ahhh… please… more."

Even when he is already feeling dizzy from all the arousal he's trying to control and haze surrounding his eyesight, he still managed to give you what you want. His tongue goes up a little, playing with your shiny button as he plans to give you more.

His hand then introduces itself to your drenching hole, one by one, a finger goes in to give you friction and the second to scissor and stretch you out. With a hole that tight, he's aware he need one more finger to go in, but not so soon when he enjoys the view of your face in a mess and back arching as a reaction.

"This tight and warm pussy too, all for me?" He asks innocently sounding and yet full of crimson red, almost criminal, thoughts.

Your moans were already too much especially when he hits your spot from time to time. He was too serious about it like his life depended on it. He was doing an excellent job, even adapting a rhythmic pattern to fucking your hole with his hand all the while stretching you and hitting your spot.

"Shit… i think I'm close…" you were heaving breaths, eyes still shut, tighter when you felt his tongue pressing a little harder with your clit and a finger rubbing your most sensitive spot. You almost screamed at the sensation, but you were so quick to cover your mouth with your arms when you had your release (too considerate of your neighbors but a little loose for Soonyoung to savor it all).

Soonyoung himself had made it known he too was overwhelmed of the arousal that drowns his consciousness. It was as if he was drunken by your juices; mind going insane at how your moans mixed with his make such a good music to his ears.

Until he can't take it anymore and reached for his boxers, feeling his hard stick.

"Gahh…" for a moment he took time to feel himself, his warm breath hovering over your exposed wet folds. He was grunting by himself, frustrated that he can't control himself ㅡ he wanted to feel you right then, rummage into your hole and pleasure himself to his limit. But he is not gonna do that on your first time. Maybe the second, he could be more upfront about how he wanted to fuck you so hard and pound against you until his thighs give up on him.

"Soonyoung, are you okay?" Worried after hearing his gentle cries, you asked.

"I'm sorry babe, I am just…"

"Come here, baby," you were weak, but tried to raise yourself a little. "Need a little help?" You asks as you pulled him to your warmth by his lips. He kisses you back a bit more aggressive than the first contact. Lip-locking went so deep you didn't realize your were both craving oxygen by the time your body was sinking in the mattress. With a hiss, he breaks the kiss and smirks.

"Fuck… why do you make me want you so bad?"

"How bad?" You tested him.

You knew him from the tips of his hair down to the last bit of his toe nails. The way he is acting, you know he desires your whole being, you know he wants every inch of your skin no less than a millimeter distance from his. And you know he craves it hard and rough.

"Oh you don't wanna know,"

"What if I do?"

He looks at you, irises sparkle at your consent. Head spinning, he is going crazy, but he can't admit it. "Should I… show you then?"

You nodded at him. He dives in for a kiss one more time before he positions himself to your entrance. His hot girth sweeping sticky juices against your folds, coating himself while doing so.

"Ready, babe?"

You were actually thinking twice - are you? You were virgin your whole life, untouched and unkissed. Being too nitpicky about relationships had you missing out on so much fun and pleasure ㅡ heck you even never noticed your friend's hints at you nor the obvious teasing from the others. You chose to build a parasocial relationship with that actor you've been following for quite some time. The thirst traps were enough for you to attend to your wet needs. The fanfics even more so ignite that sexual tension you had with someone who have not seen you ever.

Then came Kwon Soonyoung's shy but passionate confession when you two were left alone inside Jihoon's studio. You never thought someone ever thought of you or seen you like how he does. Adding fuel to the fire was that, ever since you met him again in college, you can't deny the fact that he had grown into such a fine man. The girls in your class gush at him, and envy you for being a close friend of his that he gets to walk with you to the subway. And most of the time eat with you for lunch every Wednesday when your schedule does not match your girl friends.

While you never knew, Soonyoung bottled up all the jealousy to himself. That one mathematics professor who had been kind to you not knowing he was a friend of your mother; that senior guy named Seungcheol whom you have kept your eyes on and screamed your lungs out for during one basketball game; your neighbors Mingyu and Wonwoo whom you have grown close spending holidays together for some time now; even your girlfriends who don't ever want to leave your side. He had no rights to being jealous and it angered him so bad why reality hits him that way.

Not until now, all the jealousy vanished to none when his reality slapped him back a gift he had always been trying to manifest in his life; the only person he promised to ever lock his heart with. You.

His hard cock was welcomed by your tight entrance. Breaths were heavy and eyes almost well up as he tears your hole. The silence was too loud in the room that only your sensual sounds vibrated throughout the space. It was such an experience, having your hole stretch to his girth. Painful at first, stinging if you may even say so. The arousal you had prepared for him was almost not enough to lubricate his way in. You thought he was too big for an inexperienced hole.

"Soonyoung, w-wait…"

You didn't notice how you were digging your nails at the back of his hands - which you didn't also notice holding yours against the mattress.

"Baby…" He wipes the tear that formed in your eyes. "I'm sorry, is it too much? Should I… stop?"

There he goes again with that fucking soft voice he only has for you.

"No…" you assured him hastily with a faint smile. "Just… this… it's my first."

That alone, he figured how to handle the situation. It was his first too, but not the first time he imagined it happening. He know he had to take it slow, just as how he learned from the videos he imagined could be the both of you. It might seem he was a little perverted, but he had and would only be so just for you.

"I'll be careful," He kisses your forehead and you nodded.

Accompanying with a sweet kiss, he went on entering your heat as slow as he can, as careful as his patience can take. It had you whimpering, but you trusted Soonyoung. You know how loyal the guy can be, especially with his words. He indeed treated you like a delicate gem.

"You're so fucking good in taking me in," He lightens up the mood with the compliment. "Just a little…. More…." And he gasps as your hole engulfed him fully.

"So warm…." Your breaths exchange through each other's mouths as you take time adjusting to his size. You can't believe how huge he was, filling your hole so perfectly like it was molded inside of you.

A lewd mouth-conquering once again starts, now ever passionate than the first ones. It was like both of you were feeling each other: your warmth, your wetness, his length, and that stupid throbbing that makes you go crazy; taking time to internalize how both you are now one, connected by the tension you two had been denying.

"I can stay like this forever," you managed to say to which he giggled. "Fuck, do you feel how wet I am?"

"I know right, you want me so bad." He boasts himself, "Be honest, am I too good for a first timer?"

"First-timer my ass!"

"You don't believe me? Look I'm trying to give you caution that it might get clumsy as a beginner…" He teases you as he circles his hips, which earned him a hot moan from you.

"Ah shit, keep doing that…"

"I can…" He groans, "But I have other plans."

He dives on to your neck as he starts kissing it everywhere, while his hips started to rock slowly. The slight friction was already making you go crazy, you can't even think of anything but Soonyoung taking your virginity away from you. How his gentle body rolls make your pussy so well attended, you can even picture how he does it with that dancer hips of his. Hot - it must have been so hot, so fiery, so sexy.

"Fuck, you're so good baby ahh~" you thought saying something might encourage him instead of just having you moan endlessly (although that is not as bad, too.)

"You like it?"

"So… fucking much…. Ahh…"

You can't help but moan, it was just too pleasurable.

"Your moans… fuck…. Making me want you more," He said, groaning in frustration. He didn't realize he was gaining speed, which you didn't mind as well. His thrusts also gained force, his length starting to thrust in from a distance. He was going harder, and faster.

No words were exchanged. Just moans and hisses and curses in between the slaps of his skin to yours. The mattress then joining in with the creaks, visibly and audibly trying to handle the intense workout going on. Your moans reached a note you didn't know you can and his going deeper notes from his range. Suddenly you felt a knot on your tummy. This must be it, you thought. You are cumming.

"S-Soonyoung… I am…"

"Shit you're getting tighter fuck," He drowned your words with his own. "Come again?"

"I think I'm gonna… cum…"

"Oh yeah?" He was thinking of holding his for a while. He too felt like cumming but he was having too much pleasure.

He just loves going in out of your warmth, feeling your moist hole as he slams his, the pressure on his thighs and even arms that support his weight, the slapping sound and the hint of arousal in the air, he wanted to make the most of it.

"Do I make you feel that good, baby? Do you like my cock? How big it is that it fills and stretches your tight pussy, huh?"

Foul-mouthed Soonyoung must have been a turn on for you. He cannot believe he just heard the loudest and longest moan from you tonight, followed right up by your hot release.

He smirks at his fault. You were drained.

As the scent of sex fills the room, you felt a kiss on your lips as he goes on helping you with your release. You were too sensitive as he slowly rides your high, you wanted to stop him for a while but shit, the process felt so good if not more sensual than the rest that happened that you almost bit his lips.

"Ah… I'm sorry."

"Nah, that was…hot…"

He finally let's out when you've stabilized your breathing for a while. The absence of his cock from inside you was another kind of loneliness you never knew existed.

"Have you… cum yet?" You asked him faintly, as he settles beside you.

"I can't cum inside you can I?" He thought for a while as he pumps himself, eyes closed.

You smiled at his consideration. Albeit giggling at the fact that there even might be precum leaked inside. Anyway, you have your stock of pills, no problem with that.

"Then let me at least finish it for you?"

He was about to let you know his confusion when you already had your hand in his cock, replacing his.

"Ah… sssshit." It was an image he had pleasured himself with once or twice if he will be honest. You, pumping his hard, reddened cock, and then taking it to your mouth.

The gutteral groan he let out was a sound you never thought would come from him but it did.

Your tongue was the first to welcome him from the tip, circling it as if tasting your own cum and his leakings, later on conquering the head with your mouth. He was holdng on to the sheets so hard he was crumbling them in his fists.

"Fuck…" you thought you heard more curse but you were too occupied to hear them.

He too was too focused on how his cock finally got an attention he had been wishing for. For him indeed, to be eaten is the best feeling in the world, unaware of your mutual notion.

His eyes were shut tight, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape; he cannot control his delight upon the materialization of one of his dark crimson fantasies.

You went in deeper, as much as your mouth can handle. Too bad your mouth must have been quite in the smaller size you had to seek help with your free hand to give him the blow job of his dreams.

"Shit now I'm doubting this is your first…" He managed to blurt out after he exhaled deeply, looking at you with a pair of hooded eyes you never saw from him.

"We learn things out of curiosity," you smirked. "I'll show you one thing I learnedㅡ" you cut your own words, hand still rubbing him sultry. "ㅡif you're such a good boy, and promise to moan as loud as you can if you like it. Hmm?"

You giggled how you saw his lips started to redden to his bite. Oh you just know how much you affect him, its kinda unfair, he must have thought.

You went back to sucking his cock, hollowing your cheeks with a suck he did not see coming. The moan he let out was almost a cry, but he kept his promise. It was loud, even lingered for a quite a while turning into some kind of a growl.

"That so fucking hot of you, baby…" you whispered. "You like that?"

A groan was enough for your to go back to your business, sucking him dry, gradually increasing speed. He was writhing, a moaning mess, underneath you and fuck, it was such a sight to see and hear him in full lustful glory, almost like an underling to your prowess, all because of you.

His shy hand was trying its best not to hurt you with its pull of your hair as you pushed your self deeper, his tip causing a gag you were quick to deny.

"Fuck…" his voice cracked a bit and it was then his loans turned octaves higher than his usual.

Music to your ears, and your wet pool in the south.

You sucked him faster, gaining momentum and rhythm with your head as he meets your mouth with his hips. He says he couldn't help it, you heard him mumble albeit not too audible.

"Babe… babe you can… stop now." He said between breaths which caused you some confusion, and a bit of self doubt. Is there something wrong?

"Babe please come here…" He cooed as he fixated his back against the headboard, signaling you to come closer. You settled at his thigh, moistened bodies touching, foreheads resting against each other as both race breaths.

"Did I… do something wrong?"

He was still whimpering by himself, suddenly taking your lips on a lock once again. You let him be, taking time to answer what could have been a little sensitive at this time.

The kiss took long enough when you felt his body, shaking a bit hard on on your leftㅡhe was pumping himself too fast which you didn't know he had been helping himself as soon as he kissed you.

He rests his head against the wooden board, while you take in the hottest image you have seen of him so far. You know he was near his release when his teeth started gritting, eyes and brows shut to pleasure.

"I'm… cumming…."

His breaths sounded so hoarse, and you thought of nothing but to kiss that sumptuous long neck right in front of your eyes, and paint his thigh the arousal that once again made itself known.

Not too long and he releases strands of his cum, accompanied by his deep moan that resonated to your core.

"I don't know… how to end this…" He giggled, still chasing his breath as he kisses you once more, pulling you closer to him as if there was any distance left. "I'm… sorry," He began to speak, caressing your chin with his fingers. "I'm…"

"Hmm…?"

He sighs in defeat. "I'm… too shy to cum… inside your mouth. Or just… cumming… like the idea of having these sticky liquid all over you… inside you… I… it's making me shy, you might think it's… dirty or anything? I mean it's our first so… you might not be used to it yet… and the fact that... i dod not wear any protection... felt like violated you, my love."

You saw how hard he constructed that ment of his, which earned him a soft giggle from you.

"Oh my God… Soonyoung." You gave him a peck before continuing, "why are you so cute?" and gave him a hug so warm, so endearing. "Don't worry about those things I don't make you even think of. I'm all good."

He blushed moreover from his aftersex glow. "Well... I wasn't being cute!" He lets you rest on his chest. "Anyway… this is just the first. I'll be more confident in our next." His breath felt closer to your ear, as his airy voice filled the room. "Unless you need help with that wetness right now?"

You just know his face have turned smug now, so proud of how he can make you feel aroused so damn fast.

Of course, you gave in. You needed another release, manifested through not just the wetness, but also the aching of your inner thighs. You want him again, and again. His fault for being too hot for your sake.

"How about a ride before we get to eat breakfast?"

#svt #seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt scenarios #svt fic #svt hoshi #seventeen hoshi #hoshi smut #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung smut #svt hoshi smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines #svt imagines #kpop scenarios

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cherriegyuu · 1 year ago

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Hiii. So i got into a car accident today while driving, nothing too bad happened to my car and the car that hit mine. Im also not badly jnjured but mentally, just got so traumatized from the impact. I can still hear the loud boom upon impact and like now im home about to sleep and while ive had many thoughts, one of them was just hoping there was someone who would care for me. Someone who’d come to my rescue as it happened and process the trauma with me. I could really see this with Seungcheol. Could you possibly write a drabble about this if its not too much ask?

Thank you

like we talked before, i hope you're doing well and that the worse is gone. i hope you enjoy! sorry it took me so long

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst word count: 1.1k warning: car accident, reader gets hurt (minor)

a/n: this was not proofread

requests are open

You dropped the keys on the table, your bag and coat right on top of it. You glanced at your hands, just to have the confirmation that they were still shaking, though a visual confirmation wasn't really necessary, as you could feel it. The sight of it was just an added bonus.

No more than 5 hours before you were in a car accident. While on your way to work, you stopped at a red sign — as one usually does — when someone hit you from behind, causing your car to hit the one in front of you.

You were stuck in the car for at least 45 minutes until they managed to get you out. Your leg was stuck, it wasn't broken or hurt, but you were confident that if you tried to move it then you'd injure it.

During those 45 minutes, all you wanted was to call Seungcheol and have his voice calm you down even just for a second. But your phone was inside your purse, in the backseat, so there was no way of reaching it. So you stayed stuck, silently crying.

The paramedics did their best to calm you down, talking with you the entire time, assuring you that everything was going to be okay.

"Can I call my boyfriend?" you asked once they pulled you out.

The medic smiled at you and handed you your purse. You knew that Seungcheol was at a meeting, like his earlier text informed you, outside of town, so there was a possibility of him not answering the phone. But you had to try it. You: needed to hear his voice even if it was just the voicemail.

He picked up the phone on the fourth ring.

"Baby, what happened? Is everything okay?" He said as soon as he picked up the call.

Seungcheol knew that you wouldn't call him over nothing, just to chat, while he was in a meeting, a very important one at that. That was an agreement the two of you made early on in your relationship: phone calls were mostly for emergencies during work hours.

"I was in an accident," you said, trying to control your voice so as not to scare him "Someone hit me from behind so I hit the car in front of me"

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of a door closing.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, not to the sound of his voice growing worried by the second. And you didn't want to do that, didn't want him to be worried about things he couldn't do anything about. He was hours away from home, working. You knew what the sound of your crying would do to him, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

"I'm okay, just scared. The sound of the car hitting me was so loud, then someone screamed and an alarm went off somewhere around me. I just…" you pressed a hand to your temple, suddenly aware of the thin layer of blood running down your cheek "Oh, shit"

"yn?" Seungcheol's voice was desperate on the other side of the line "What is it? What happened"

"Miss? We have to go now" he heard someone say

"They're taking me to the hospital," you said, starting to cry again "Just to make sure everything is fine, I think"

"Everything is fine, you're okay," he said, his tone suddenly changing, a little more bright "I'll be home soon, okay? I'll figure something out, but I'll be there as soon as I can. I love you"

Seungcheol felt yet another squeeze in his heart. He should have been home, closer to you. Should have been able to get back sooner than a few hours. The world seemed to be moving slower than usual, the traffic not moving at all. He just wanted to get home, to you. He needed to see, with his own eyes, that you were, in fact, fine.

It didn't matter to him that you told him you were okay, multiple times, that while at the hospital you kept updating him and reassuring him. Seungcheol knew that sometimes you'd downplay how you felt to not burden others.

He could tell just from your voice that you were still shaken up, as your words came out almost whispered.

Seungcheol pushed open the door to the apartment you shared. His eyes scanned the living room, then the kitchen. Only to find you standing over the stove, mindlessly stirring something in a pan.

"yn? baby?”

You had been so lost in your mind, in the memories of the accident, that you didn’t hear him coming in, or the sound of the door. But his voice was enough to bring you back.

“Cheollie,” you said.

The moment you saw him, you broke down. The entire day, after that first call with him, you had managed to keep it together. Crying once had been enough, as it usually was. But not this time around. You had never been in an accident before, not even close, and the moment kept being replayed in your mind as if you were stuck in this infinite loop of that moment. You remember the sound more than anything else, so loud that made you think that the accident had been far worse than it actually was.

Seuncgehol held your face, his thumbs pushing away your tears, as he searched your face for any injuries. Only to find the small band-aid over your right eyebrow. It was the light blue one you always kept in the bathroom.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

His voice was so soft, his touch so gentle.

“Can you just hug me? That’s all I really need right now”

Seungcheol wasted no time in pulling you to him, one of his hands on your waist and the other one at the back of your neck. He planted small kisses on your temple, over the band-aid, on your cheek, on your hair. He wasn’t sure what he could do for you. The worst seemed to have passed, but he knew that you’d still be thinking about it for days.

“Thank you for picking up my call,” you said against his chest “and for coming home. I didn’t want to be by myself today. Sorry I interrupted your meeting though, I know it was important”

He pulled back a little. He had the sweetest smile on his face, his dimples showing as he caressed your head before pressing his lips against yours.

“This is the only place in the world I wanna be at”

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

#klabels #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol x you #scoups x you #scoups #seventeen angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #s.coups

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kenlvry · 2 years ago

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you're the only sp writer i request from you're literally my fav 😢😢 but can i request stan kyle and kenny with a reader who gets jealous really easily??

reader who is easily jealous

an, HI OMG THIS IS SO SWEET ILY ANON ☹️☹️🫶🫶 18-19

kyle

okay kyle didn't know you were the type to get easily jealous, i mean he js thought you didn't really care and kinda let him roll with whoever he wants but thats probably because he hangs out with girls who are in the same cliques as you so,,

it was until you literally glared at the waitress who stared at him for one too many seconds he knew, you ended up having a bad mood throughout the whole meal and eyeing the waitress "baby r you okay?" "why? if im not are you going to leave me for that stupid waitress?" "WHAT NO???"

theres always two reasons why you're so quiet on a date, kyle was too friendly with a girl or a girl was too friendly with him. you ignore him roll your eyes at him and he's just begging you to give him an ounce of attention.

if a girl likes his story you literally stalk her, her mom, her brother, her father, her boss, her colleagues everything.

you continue to ignore that girl for weeks and roll your eyes at her whenever you see her around cz why u liking my mans story? keep your likes baby

he finds it so hot tbh like omg ur this obsessive with me?? 🤭 he gets turned on by this for sure.

even though he finds it attractive and it gets him all sweaty he needs to he careful because you weren't easy to persuade once your jealous fr. once he had to get down on his knees, crying out to you to please look at him. he loves you though and he'd do it again

a thud was heard from your window, then another, and another. it was annoying you so you open your curtains to see what was causing the noise, it was your boyfriend. you opened up your window sticking out half of your body out of the window, "kyle?" you yell, "please unblock me, i dont know why she follows and likes all my post i swear" he yells back. you smile to yourself at how desperate this man is "what if i dont want to?" you put your hands in the frame of the window smiling "um,, I haven't really thought about it" "oh bye then" "wait wait!" he called out and you turn back from walking away. "I'll uh.. I'll freeze myself!" your eyes upon widen at his dumb idea "what no you idiot" he takes off his jacket, gloves and hands then put it on the ground, he then kneels clasp his hands together "please?" "omg." you rub your temples together and rush down. kyle sighs thinking you left him, looking at the ground of shame because now the neighbors think he got another girl pregnant or something. the front door open and he flung his head to its direction, you walked out with your own coat wrapping it around him "you can beg all you want but there's a way to do it without hurting yourself" "anything to make you happy" "I'm not" he chuckles as you drag him inside "don't do that again" "hmm we'll see" "kyle brofloski!" he chuckles again at you while you bring him up to your room, he really loves you.

kenny

LOVES IT SO FUCKING MYCH 😝😝😝

its like he knows you love him because you'll isolate yourself just because a girl winked at him and won't see him until he begs for forgiveness even though it aint his fault

okay that kinda sounds like a redflag,, WTV WALK HIM LIKE A DOG IG 🤭

anyways, he doesn't hate it dont care if it interferes his life. even if he has to give up everything to make you talk to him he'll do it IM NOT JOKING

he does not care, he has to block all the girls he knows? okay! never talk to any of his girl friends? yea sure! breath only your air and not lay his eyes on a single woman except you only? anything you want babe ☺️

ALSO GETS HARD FOR THIS PLEASE. i js know he's turned on after you get visually jealous.

"please baby look at me" he pulls your arm for you to stop your tracks from going into your room "shut up, maybe you should go to that hoe who waved at you, why did she wink?? did you two used to have something??" you pull back your arm and go up the stairs with kenny following in suit. arriving infront of your bedroom kenny pulled your arm again and when you turned he immediately fall to his knees "please, i dont know her" he hold your palm with both hands, glossy eyed "i,, kenny" "please?" tilting his head to the side, he'll sit there for hours if he has to. "get up mccormick, im sorry i overreacted" he got up so quickly then hugged you, his head falling on your shoulder "loveyou" his breath on your shoulder, you smile "love you too"

stan

i think he has a love hate relationship with your jealousy, like on one hand he knows you love him and would literally kill anyone for him but on the other... its kinda tiring to beg to you

i mean he doesn't care going on his knees, and crawling all fours for you but at times he just can't deal with it yk??

but he mostly loves it obvi, the way your eyes stay focus on the girl that was 'hitting' on him or the way you sulk and won't tell him why even though its obvious it's bc your jealous, its all so cute to him. and he loves this side of your jealousy, just couples being couple

other times though.. you'd block gim everywhere and won't unblock him until the next day when you reflect on your stupid decisions. or when you ignore him at school or not even make eyecontact with him, he hates and loves it.

you had another quarrel with stan again, this fight was because he still comments '☺️' under Wendy's post of herself, it was valid true but you still thought you overreacted. sitting on your bed with your arms cross and tears almost falling down at the thought of Stan going back to wendy broke your heart. ding a notification popped up and you pick up your phone hoping it was stan despite you blocking him everywhere, it was your friend "um, whats up with stan?" she texted you "wdym" your eyebrows furrow together, you immediately unblock him on Instagram and to your surprise his profile picture was you, his stories had 8 pictures of you with cute songs behind it. he had posted 2 picture of you two on his feed one captioning "traveling the moon and back to find good internet to see if her blocking me was a mistake or im a mistake". his bio was now "tell her to unblock me ☹️". you smile at this and your cheeks turned a pink tint. you unblocked him on every platform and it seems he had changed his profile picture to you on every single one. "." "BABE YOU UNBLOCKED ME" "i mean yeah i have to especially since i have 5 people texting me about your profile" "just wanted to show my girlfriend love" "whatever" a knock was heard on your door, then a chat from stan "open up i brought food and wine" you smile and blush to yourself as your rush down to open the door. he was the sweetest

#south park #south park x y/n #south park x you #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh

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tobbesdiscordkitten · 8 days ago

Text

The Language of Fear by Del James - Without You

This short story was inspired by Axl’s breakup with Erin Everly. I will swap out the main character’s name, Mayne Mann, for Axl, and his lover’s name, Elizabeth, for Erin. The song, Without You, will be changed to Estranged. The band’s name, Suicide Shift, will remain the same. If you haven’t already, please read the Introduction first.

Although he wanted to share the dance, [Axl] could not bring himself to interrupt such beauty. Her well-toned body swayed childlike, peacefully, slowly moving to the rhythm. Her innocence was enchanting, her beauty breathtaking. [Axl] knew she’d be angry at him for sneaking about, watching without letting her know, but the teenage voyeur inside his adult body encouraged him and didn’t care about the consequences.

Besides, this was for his eyes only. Her eyes sparkled, reminding him of the ocean, vast with beauty and mystery. A slight breeze danced through her lion’s mane. A full-length see-through dress covered her shapely body and a light glaze of sweat made her glisten. She seemed too beautiful to be real.

During this split second of visual euphoria, [Axl] conceded that she was the only woman he ever truly loved. Her eyes flickered. She must have heard me, he thought as she turned toward him. He didn’t want to ruin the beauty, only to enjoy it. Her thick lips smiled sympathetically.

Then the song started growing in volume. A sharp twinge of panic shot through him when he realized which of his songs it was. Cold sweat seeped out of his pores and dread consumed him. His vision spiraled as reality distorted. Breathing became difficult, complicated. Desperation attacked and twisted every muscle in his thin body. Much worse than the pain was his fear. Unsuppressable anxiety swept through him as he started toward the stereo. Everything lost its natural texture; the walls, the floor, the air became surreal. The louder the music, the more difficult he found it to move. He had to remove the compact disc but his feet felt like large concrete blocks. He couldn’t move fast enough.

She already had the pistol’s barrel against her temple. BLAMM!

[Axl] awoke covered in sweat, a mute shriek still lodged in his throat. The past six hours had been spent in a drug-and-alcohol-induced coma that he put over as sleep. Sleep was a rare commodity and was impossible to achieve without some assistance. It didn’t matter whether he slept six hours or six minutes, the nightmare always managed to creep in . No sleeping pill or antidepressant could spare him. He had written the song and was forever damned by it.

With unsteady hands, he wiped sweat from his brow and rubbed his fingers against the satin sheets. His silver and gold bracelets clinked together. Rolling onto his side, he stared at the digital alarm clock on top of the black night table that had a built-in refrigerator as its base. On top of the clock was a half-empty pack of Marlboros. He stared at the green digital numbers but they made no sense.

It really didn’t matter what time it was anyway, his time was other people’s money. Next to the clock was something more important than cash or time. Slowly he sat up. Tortured eyes scanned the black marble tabletop, searching for any leftover precious brown powder. There were burned matches, bent cigarettes, and empty bindles, but no dope. It didn’t matter. He could always have more delivered.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, [Axl] reached down and opened the night table’s refrigerator door. Inside were several Budweisers, baking soda, and a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon. He grabbed a cold can, killing half of it in one sip. He did this every morning. Instantly, his aching head began to feel better. Although he didn’t want to admit it, the time had arrived to rejoin the living. He knew he had to be at the studio soon but didn’t feel up to it. Besides, the recording of his latest album, Alone, had been finished over a month ago. The album was now in the final mixing stages.

If [Axl] liked what he heard, he’d approve it and the record would be released on schedule. If not, it would have to be remixed until he did approve. So then, what the fuck did they need him for? He procrastinated for as long as he possibly could before finally standing up. Much like his bedroom, the bathroom was a disaster area. Discarded clothes, creams, trash, cassettes, and towels dominated the view.

Using radar to locate the bowl, he found the porcelain, fought off the urge to puke, and relieved himself. He reentered the bedroom, not really feeling human, more like a robot dressed in rented flesh. There was a dull pain in his abdomen that he’d grown accustomed to. It, like many other flaws in his health, could be attributed to his excessive lifestyle. Besides his jewelry, [Axl] only wore Jockey briefs. He stumbled over to his dresser, removed a pair of custom-tailored black leather pants, and changed. He found a dark purple silk kimono hanging in a walk in closet and put it on. In a dresser drawer was a gram vial of cocaine.

Scooping with the long fingernail on his right pinkie, the tattered musician snorted eight blasts of rock n’ roll aspirin. The kimono felt cool against his warm flesh. He wondered if he was feverish and concluded he probably was. He was always run down, as if with a perpetual fever. That is, of course, until he got his chip. He finished his beer, tossing the empty can in the general direction of a wastebasket that was already crammed with empties.

Staring into a full-length mirror, the run-down recluse didn’t recognize the reflection. Sure, the long [ginger] hair and tattoos gave him away, but he looked so frail. [Axl] looked like someone who was ready for hospital pajamas. His once attractive face was blue, taut, and expressionless. A scraggly beard covered his chin and his emerald eyes were no longer authentic gems, but rather costume jewelry. He needed a drink.

For the past fourteen of his twenty-eight years, he’d spent the majority of his time inside a bottle. Teenage beer and wine parties turned to vodka and rum at nightclubs, which in turn evolved into straight whiskey. Exiting the bedroom, he said a silent prayer to his patron saint, Jim Beam, asking that there be some in the liquor cabinet. An illuminating golden glow surrounded the thick blackout curtains. A small war had gone down in the living room the previous evening. Full ashtrays, assorted liquor bottles, empty and half-empty packs of cigarettes, and beer cans were strewn everywhere. Several CD covers were caked in cocaine residue.

[Axl] tried remembering who had been partying there but couldn’t. An empty pack of Kool cigarettes meant that one of his many dealers, Jamie Jazz, had delivered something. It didn’t take very long before he made the connection between the empty bindles in the bedroom and Jamie. Jamie was typical Hollywood trash who hand delivered coke, toke, crack, or smack to troubled celebrities, exploiting their vunerablities.

[Axl] searched for more clues as to who else had been over partying but came up blank. He slid behind the bar that was adjacent to the kitchen and opened a cabinet. There were several unopened bottles of assorted white liquors. A nervous surge shot through his small stomach. What if there was no whiskey? He shuffled the bottles around until he found the proper one. A sigh of relief escaped him as he twisted the cap off and made a mental note that he needed to restock. The whiskey’s aroma was his equivalent of fresh brewed coffee. "Here’s looking at you, love," [Axl] said aloud, raising the bottle to his lips. Like every day, one sip led to another. After several sips, he started feeling right. He put the bottle on the counter and made it to the refrigerator.

If he was lucky, he’d be drunk before the day started. He removed another Budweiser and went back into the messy living room. There was a dull hum inside his cranium. He couldn’t differentiate whether it was cocaine-induced or the central air-conditioning. If only he could remember what day today was, then he’d know if a maid was scheduled to come by. She could bring booze. The musician sat on the couch, picked up the phone, and dialed 411.

"Operator, what city, please?"

“L.A.”

"What day is it?" [Axl] asked sincerely, lighting a Marlboro.

"What?"

"What day is it?"

"Sir, I’m an operator."

"Ma’am, you’re information and I asked you a question," [Axl] corrected her. A snide laugh escaped him. After a silent moment, she answered his question.

"It’s Wednesday, sir."

"Thanks," he said, and hung up.

There would be no maid service today. This was not the way he wanted to start the day. He polished off the beer, finished his cigarette, and snorted more cocaine. After several confusing seconds, he remembered where he kept the large green garbage bags and began straightening up the mess. Moving around the large one-bedroom condominium, he picked up anything that wasn’t bolted down and threw it out. Bottles and empty food containers stretched the garbage bag to a point where it threatened to rip open. After ten minutes of straightening up, the apartment began taking shape. Besides this condominium, he also owned one in Manhattan and another in Houston. He rarely frequented his Hollywood Hills mansion, or for that matter, his house in Maui. Both brought back too many memories of her.

It was in the Hollywood Hills house where he and [Erin Everly] had spent most of their quality time. As his thoughts began betraying him, thinking more about her, [Axl] instinctively went to the bar and retrieved the whiskey bottle. He could think of her as long as he had a safety net. With all the money, fame, and success he had attained, it was the simple things like friendship and love that were the hardest to keep. He never meant to hurt anyone, especially those closest to him, but for some reason that’s who he usually hurt the worst.

He never set out to be malicious, but by living under a microscope with the world scrutinizing him, any wrongdoing, public or private, tended to blow up in his face and often wound up as Nightly News. Personal flaws and fuck-ups are not allowed of the elite. He often suffered silently, trapped by his own fame, until he needed out of his cage. But the cage was as wide as his eyes could perceive.

All [Axl] had ever tried to be, right or wrong, was himself. With all the doctors, specialists, therapists, fans, and everyone in his organization trying to help him, he just sank further into his cocoon, alienating himself even more. He often wondered who he really was. Was he another regenerated social security number automatically inherited at birth or a genuine reflection of society? Was he a phenomenon or just a facade? Was he a product of his own imagination or just another brick? Would he ever understand his own destiny?

Inside his mind, he analyzed why his relationship with [Erin] had failed more times than were countable. Like the scholar he wasn’t, he dissected situations, pondered things he should’ve said and shouldn’t have been caught doing. When it came to sex, why couldn’t [Erin] understand that just because he occasionally strayed from their bedroom didn’t mean he didn’t love her? Sex was like role-playing. He never forced her to be monogamous but deep down he knew that if he found out she was fucking someone else it would have hurt. A lot!

Even with that knowledge, he couldn’t confine himself to only one woman. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He tried being open with her but concluded that certain things should’ve remained secret. Sex was an ego addiction similar to the one felt onstage. Different audiences, like different partners, were more challenging and made him work harder for the applause. Like drugs, he was addicted to the rush. Even with an empire at his disposal, money couldn’t buy him love, nor happiness, nor peace of mind. Nor [Erin].

Looking around the large living room, a very disenchanted artist absorbed the modern decor. None of these possessions except a few token items had ever meant anything to [Axl]. None of this shit was real. He was surrounded by trophies of a game that had no meaning. And he was tired of playing games.

A sharp pain in his left ear sent him back to the dark corridor that led from stage to dressing room. Inside his ringing head, speakers feeding back ignited and exploded. He was experiencing another rock n’ roll side effect, ear damage. The dull hum lasted only seconds but the memories of his final show with his former band, Suicide Shift, would never fade.

For reasons he couldn’t remember, [Erin] had been unable to attend the tour’s final show. The band had been on the road for the better part of fourteen months, over 285 concerts. Every few weeks [Axl] had flown her to whatever city he was performing in and she’d stay for a few nights. The final concert of any tour is an important night. It was Suicide Shift’s first headlining tour and [Axl] wanted to share the experience with her. It was the culmination of many miles traveled, many hours worked, and the celebration that went on afterward was well deserved. He called her several times to offer her plane tickets, trying to persuade her, but she couldn’t make it. The gig was well over two hours of electric ferocity.

Of course [Axl] consumed plenty of drugs and alcohol before and during the show (he did every gig), but it was the Florida crowds’ enthusiasm and knowing that he’d be able to sleep for a month that gave him an extra spark. Every time he took a solo, he tried to best any previous soloing effort. Every time he approached his microphone to sing backups, his voice surged with whiskey vigor. For him, this was rock n’ roll at its best. The 4,000-plus crowd acknowledged this with deafening applause.

After the final encore, it was time to celebrate. [Axl] wound up with two eager females in his hotel room. In the privacy of his bathroom he injected a little heroin. Not enough to make him nod out but enough to get him good and high. The two nubile females would only make him feel better. After struggling to get his wet brown suede pants off, he joined the nude women, and thus the revelry began.

The dope clouded his not-so-good memory but [Axl] remembered a very drunk Peter Terrance walking into the room. The band’s drummer had mistaken [Axl’s] room for his own. In the spirit of celebration, [Axl] offered him a girl. Terrance declined saying he’d find his own and left. The menage-a-trois continued. Shortly afterward there was a knock on the door. Thinking it was Terrance taking up the offer, [Axl] called out, telling whoever was at the door to enter. Standing at the door with an overnight bag was [Erin]. On the spur of the moment she’d flown from L.A. to Miami to be with him. A very bad scene played itself out. [Erin] left broken and hysterical. That was the beginning of the end for their relationship.

[Axl] snapped out of the past. His left knee popped loudly as he straightened his legs and headed for the phone. He pushed a button. [Erin’s] number was still programmed and every now and then he pushed it just to hear her phone ring. Also in the phone’s memory was his record label, his manager, the three members of his current band, the [Axl Rose Group], and several drug dealers. After receiving no answer at [Erin’s], he pushed another button. His many bracelets clinked together and a few seconds later there was a reply. "Yeah?" spat an unenthusiastic voice from a car phone.

"It’s me," [Axl] said, swallowing, cocaine dripping down his throat.

"My main man," Jamie’s voice declared like a cash register ringing. "What can I do ya for?"

"Uptown and downtown." Cocaine and heroin.

"No problem. You remember what I did for ya last night, right?"

"Yeah." He didn’t.

"You owe me three bills from that shit, brother man," the dealer explained just in case memory failed.

"I’m sure I got some change floatin’ around. If I can’t find some I’ll five ya my Versateller card and you can get what I owe."

"Bet. I’ll be right up," Jamie said as if he was doing [Axl] a favor and hung up.

"Fuckin’ prick," [Axl] mumbled to himself. He lit up a cigarette and got himself another beer. The lid popped loudly and foam rose to the mouth hole. He watched, amused, then walked over to the black-out curtains and pulled the lever, letting bright sunlight invade his living room.

"Fuck you very much," he loudly announced, squinting, and raising his middle finger to the sky. The view from his balcony was vast, displaying the City of Angels below, yet more often than not [Axl] kept the curtains shut, preferring not to be a part of the world outside. It was safe inside his apartment. Against a far wall, tucked in the corner so that the ivory keys faced out toward the living room, was a vintage Steinway. He spent many pleasure-filled hours on the instrument, and even when he wasn’t playing, the piano gave him visual stimulation. It was an instrument of precision and grace. Next to the piano, resting comfortably on stands were half a dozen vintage guitars: Les Pauls, Stratocasters, and Telecasters. The guitars he kept in the apartment were the ones that meant the most to him.

The buzzer sounded, waking [Axl] from his drifting thoughts. He went to the intercom and pressed the button that unlocked the front door. A few minutes later, Jamie Jazz was inside his apartment.

Dozens of platinum and gold records adorned the walls. Hours upon years of planning, writing, recording, and struggling had reaped these round rewards. His songwriting stemmed from inner pains and his slower, more blues-influenced songs often dealt with personal hardships. Those were the songs he was most proud of and believed might stand the test of time. The faster, more hard-rock-oriented songs often had little significance or wore their meanings on their sleeve. Unfortunately, the awards were no longer awards without [Erin].

[Axl] excused himself and went into the bedroom. Hidden behind yet another platinum disc was a safe. He removed the disc from the wall, twisted the combination, and opened the safe. Inside were jewelry, documents, over four thousand dollars cash, a freebase pipe, and a loaded .357 Magnum. He grabbed a few C-notes and went back into the living room, leaving the safe shut but unlocked. Jamie was seated on the black leather couch, feet up on the marble coffee table, looking casual in Suicide Shift sweatpants (that he’d gotten from Axl), and a matching sweatshirt. He helped himself to a beer.

“What’s the total?”

“Including last night? Six,” Jamie replied, fidgeting with the beeper on his waist.

[Axl] handed him six bills and put the rest in his pants pocket. Judging by the look on his face, the dealer understood he wanted to be alone and took the hint.

“Call me if you need anything else,” Jamie offered, exiting the apartment. The moment the front door clicked shut, [Axl’s] mind rushed into overdrive but his body refused to move. He had drugs in hand, but instead of finding a syringe, he went back into the bedroom. Something in the wall safe more powerful than his addiction had caught his eye. He walked to the safe and pulled the door open. Inside was a photo album containing precious Kodachrome memories.

Placing the drugs on top of the messy night table, he fell on the bed, and began flipping through the leather-bound book. Captured in photos were images and feelings so intense that it made him warm as well as suicidal. [Erin] had challenged him intellectually while stimulating him sexually. She’d mothered him when he was sick, which was quite often. She’d set free inner feelings that he often tried avoiding. Her beauty, both inner and physical, was something he wanted, yet when she was his, he did everything conceivable to lose her. He turned to the second page.

He had no idea how many times he’d masturbated to this photo. Every other day perhaps. It was just a snapshot he’d taken of her while on vacation in Las Vegas. In photo form, the wind blew her long hair away from her face and she was smiling. Behind her was the Caesar’s Palace hotel where they spent the better part of two weeks in the penthouse suite. It was a typical tourist photo but it was her smile that turned him on. It was so free from pain. [Axl] would do anything to have her smile for him like she had in the photograph. He’d do anything to have her lips, her body again.

He unbuttoned his leather pants. Before beginning his self-stimulation, he pulled himself over to the night-table refrigerator and removed an unopened bottle of Dom Perignon champagne. The bottle opened with a loud pop and smoke billowed from the top, but no liquid spilled. Sipping deeply from the bottle, he flipped through the photo album that was all too short, carefully avoiding the final page. He rarely looked at the last page. As always, he wound up back on page two.

With the bottle two-thirds empty, he pulled his pants and briefs down to his knees and poured the remaining champagne onto his palms. This was part of the ritual. Fine champagne was something he and [Erin] enjoyed sharing. He could still share it with her. As he took hold of his wet erection, his thoughts began to slip. It was during one of their final dinner dates that she had said something that inspired him to write the most beautiful song of his career.

“I can’t live with you and I can’t live without you,” he could hear her saying as if it were just yesterday. Words flowed from pen to paper faster than he could write. [Axl] concluded that this was his private way of explaining all that had happened between them. The song, Estranged, was not an apology, it was his side of the story. It was rock n’ roll sincerity that sold over three million copies in the U.S., topping the record sales charts and putting the [Axl Rose Group] on top of the rock world. He offered [Erin] half of the royalities from the song because without her there would be no song. She politely declined.

A sold-out [Axl Rose Group] tour ensued. When the tour arrived in Los Angeles, [Axl] desperately wanted to see her. No matter how many women he had, no matter how over her he told everyone he was, he’d do anything for her except let her permanently slip out of his life. He’d called her a dozen times over the course of two days, leaving message after message on her answering machine. Even though she never responded, he’d left her ten All-Access passes at Will Call. She never showed. After the show, [Axl] vowed he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He quickly showered, changed into dry clothing, and left, avoiding all the backstage hoopla. He and his driver headed for [Erin’s] apartment. Using the phone in the limousine, he dialed her from the street below her apartment. Again he was greeted by a recorded message.

“[Erin], I hope you’re there. I’m downstairs and even if I have to break down the door to see you, I’m willing. If you’re gonna call the cops, well, call ‘em now...I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t deserve anything...Fuck, I don’t even know what I'm trying to say other than I still care about you. Words can’t heal what I’ve done but, fuck, the past is done...I really need to see your face again,” [Axl] softly explained after the beep. The words still echoed in his mind as he wondered if he could’ve possibly phrased things differently. It was too late now, he thought, already inside the building. This was one of the rare occasions after a gig that [Axl] was sober. As he arrived by way of elevator at her floor, he heard familiar music. The closer he got to her door the louder the volume grew. Then his world began to spin uncontrollably as a loud gunshot echoed through the hallway.

He ran toward her apartment, lowered his shoulder, and with reckless abandon crashed through the wooden door. He found [Erin] on the couch, bleeding profusely, most of her head splattered on the wall behind her. On the blood-sprayed coffee table in front of her was the answering machine, a ballpoint pen, and several crumpled balls of writing paper.

He stood destroyed before her corpse. How could this have happened? All he had ever done was loved her. Devastated, he slowly walked over to the blaring stereo. A CD single of Estranged was programmed to repeat. He wondered how many times she listened to the same song and shut the power off. Then he noticed that next to the answering machine was a note.

Number one with a bullet, the red-speckled note read.

Shaking and convulsing, his tears falling freely, [Axl] began screaming at the top of his lungs. It sounded like someone had unleashed a wild animal. His shrieks threatened to break the windows. A migraine pierced his throbbing temples and his entire head was overloaded with pressure. Did she kill herself because they had failed or because he wouldn’t leave her be? Was it the song, one of the few things he’d ever done autonomously, that had driven her to this? Was this really happening? Then another thought came ot mind. He removed the pistol from her hand and put it against his temple. He was going to join her.

It was empty. [Erin] had known she would only need one bullet.

[Axl] snapped out of that nightmare and was thrust into another memory. He recognized the familiar room as the honeymoon suite in Las Vegas and almost felt at ease. The bed was in disarray and [Erin] was smiling mischievously.

“What do you want to do?”

“What?” [Axl] responded, confused. They’d already drunk several bottles of champagne and made love twice.

“What do you want to do?” She replied softly, daring [Axl] to answer. [Axl] caught wind of her game and decided to play along. If she was giving him an option as to what they’d do next, he was definitely going to take advantage of her generosity.

“You can either come up here and tell me that you love me or go down on me.”

[Erin’s] face registered joy. Words like love were the hardest to get out of [Axl’s] mouth. Once again she smiled as she began her descent toward his waistline. It didn’t take her very long to bring him back to life. Several minutes later, when she sensed that he was as excited as he was going to get, [Erin] looked up at her man and with the sexiest expression she would conjure, softy saying, “I love you.”

[Axl] came with a slight grunt. The powerful surge had given him something to work at but there was no pleasure in the orgasm. There never was anymore. He tossed the photo album aside and lay on the bed feeling dead, staring at the ceiling. For a split second, he thought he heard musical strands of Estranged but it was only his imagination. His tired body lay there for what felt like a year before he sat up. At least the drugs on the night table were real.

Everything he needed was on the table. Hidden beneath the clock radio was a syringe and a blackened spoon. There was a half-empty glass of water and a lighter next to it. In the spoon he mixed the proper amounts of heroin and water, and then, using the lighter, heated the bottom of the spoon until the mixture cleared up before placing a tiny piece of cotton into the spoon. With unsteady hands, he added some cocaine and his speedball was complete. Being a high-profile celebrity, he couldn’t afford to have his withered arms tracked up too badly. He usually shot into the back of his forearms or his feet. He also injected into his neck but the way he felt right now, he had no time to dillydally. Like an expert acupuncturist, he fixed into a bulging vein in his forearm.

“Cool,” he mumbled, carefully examining his arm, as he felt the speedball coming on. He fell back down on the bed. Between the drugs and his emotions, he was exhausted. It was a good thing drugs numbed away most of the pressures. He was rushing out as the drug hit him in powerful waves. It took several moments before he realized his left arm was touching something. He slowly rolled over. The photo album was opened to the last page.

The last page contained [Erin’s] obituary and a sympathy card. Tears he’d held in since that day began to flow down his cheeks. His pale face flushed as he felt his strength evaporating. He was drowning in sorrow but didn’t believe in self-pity and that made him feel even worse. He sat up hyperventilating with a question echoing inside his head. Why did she have to die? He had no answer and stood up too quickly. Why was everything so fucked?

He went back into the living room. He needed whiskey.

Why?

He loved her so much.

Why?

He’d offered her half the royalties. Half. That was a financial empire, but she refused.

Why?

He tried to make amends. He tried being good according to society’s standards. He wanted to understand everything that had happened to them. He wanted her to love him but no matter how hard he tried, he fucked it up.

Why?

He wanted to be normal again but that wasn’t possible.

Why?

He wanted to feel closer to [Erin] but she was dead. That tormented his fragile soul but for a split second of insane logic, [Axl] concluded that his body should not be spared either.

“Garrrrrrggghh!” he growled, attacking his living room like a pissed-off brawler. Fists and feet attacked defenseless walls and furniture. He cocked his right fist back and a large hole went through plaster. He snatched an Oriental lamp off an end table and hurled it across the room. He violently threw a marble ashtray into a plaque, ruining both.

Breathing heavily and drenched in alcoholic sweat, he grabbed a platinum record and smashed it, spraying glass shards everywhere. The shattered glass on the floor twinkled like sun-reflected sand. No matter how many hotel rooms he trashed during his career, [Axl] had never harmed a guitar. That was strictly taboo until today. He walked over to the row of guitars, grabbed a ‘68 Stratocaster by its stringed neck and swung, smashing the mahogany body until it was little more than firewood. With each self-destructive act, he felt slightly better.

He walked over to another platinum disc, readied himself and put his right fist through the glass. Blood spurted from the hand that was heavily insured by Lloyds of London. For the first time that day he smiled.

[Axl] grabbed the Jim Beam bottle off the bar and guzzled. The liquid painkiller warmed his heaving chest and eased his bleeding hand, which looked like it needed stitches. He walked over to his Fischer stereo, and, using his good hand, turned on the receiver. The digital readout was locked on a classic rock station. It was the only safe station on the dial, since it never played any of his songs. [Axl Rose] was too new, too current. The station only played material from the 60s and 70s. He instantly recognized the song playing; it was Humble Pie’s I Don’t Need No Doctor. It was raw rock like this that had inspired him to become a musician. Following the Pie were the Allman Brothers. [Axl] could relate to what it felt like being tied to a whipping post.

During the commercials, he went into the kitchen to grab another beer. Out of his stereo speakers a record store chain announced its prices as the lowest in Los Angeles. The background music accompanying the record store commercial was Estranged. His eyes stung but no tears fell as he realized that no matter where he was, he couldn’t hide from himself. Like a man on amission, he walked over to the stereo, grabbed the receiver, and yanked with both hands. It took several strong tugs before the digital lights went off. With the receiver in hand, he stumbled backward, ripping wires and knocking over one of the large Bose speakers.

Distraught and panting, he made his way to the giant sliding safety-glass door that led to the balcony. He casually dropped the high-tech receiver and undid the latch that kept the heavy door locked. Fresh air attacked his senses. The cool breeze felt invigorating as he stepped out onto the balcony and looked over the edge. His jet-black Bentley sat gleaming in the parking lot directly below.

He picked the receiver up, held it over the balcony, and aimed it at the car. After several seconds of wondering if his aim was accurate, he let go. Glass spidered wildly when the receiver hit the car’s windshield and broke through. He went to fetch the beer he’d been distracted from and ripped the refrigerator door open as hard as he could. It crashed open, spilling several items onto the floor. The door dangled by a hinge. [Axl] grabbed a beer, chugged half, and like a strong-armed baseball pitcher threw it at his guitar collection, barely missing his favorite: a vintage ‘57 Sunburst Les Paul. He grabbed another can from the crippled refrigerator as his eyes returned to the guitars.

The guitars were like adopted children and he loved each one in a different manner. Certain guitars held certain memories but each guitar had the ability to create magic. It was that potential he respected and admired most about these guitars until this afternoon. Now, no matter how much he loved a certain guitar, or how valuable it might be, all he wanted to do was feel pain. Pain brought him closer to reality. It brought him closer to [Erin].

He gave the world music, very good music, and asked for little in return. A little space to create, some kicks thrown in, and how about peace of mind? Instead, he had more material goods than he could ever use, more money than he could count, and nothing worth fighting for. There was a time not too long ago when he’d fought like hell for all of this. Now that he owned a piece of the rock he wished he could give it back.

The view from the top wasn’t as picturesque as he’d imagined. What he did as his artistic expression, the record company sold for capital. He’d quickly grown disillusioned with the system but what else could he do? Without the industry he couldn’t share his music. No matter how hard anyone tried explaining it to him, musical notes would never equal dollar signs. He made music because since his early childhood, he truly loved rock n’ roll It was the people, his people, he wrote music for after he finished writing for himself. So then, why couldn’t he sleep at night? He stared at the answer.

He was going to kill his guitars. If it wasn’t for these guitars, he wouldn’t have the problems he did. And he’d save the goddamn ‘57 Sunburst for last. He guzzled the beer, raising it away from his greedy mouth. Budweiser rained down the side of his face. When the can was almost empty, he crushed and spiked it like a football.

Enraged, he grabbed a Les Paul Black Beauty and dealt it a quick but savage death against a wall. He raised a rare Telecaster over his head and clubbed the coffee table, breaking both. Then he picked up another Les Paul and, swinging it like a baseball bat, clobbered a lamp and several other objects before the guitar’s neck snapped off.

“Fuckin’ cheap shit,” he grumbled.

He heard something that had a bit of rhythm to it. Was there a drummer playing in his head? It took several seconds for him to realize that one of the neighbors was pounding on the wall.

“WHAT, A LITTLE TOO LOUD FOR YA?!” [Axl] shouted at the direction the noise was coming from.

It didn’t stop.

“YER PISSING ME OFF, ASSHOLE!”

Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock.

"Motherfucker, I'm giving ya fair fucking warning," he said.

Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock.

[Axl] walked into the bedroom and over to the night table. He grabbed his cocaine and poured a decent-sized moundon the back of his hand that wasn’t bleeding and snorted. Afterward he licked residue off his fist, numbing his teeth and gums. There was a pack of Marlboros on the table. He grabbed one and lit it. He took a deep drag and listened to his surroundings.

The neighbor was still pounding.

The ashtray was an overflowing mountain of dead butts so [Axl] placed the cigarette on the edge of the night table. He had tried to avoid a confrontation, but the shithead next door wouldn’t let it die. He went to his wall safe, grabbed the Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum, and charged out of the bedroom.

“OKAY, HOMEFUCK, WANNA PLAY GAMES?”

Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock.

KABAMMM, KABAMMM, KABAMMM.

He unloaded three shots toward the already hole-ridden wall. The pounding stopped instantly. Again he smiled. He aimed the pistol at one of his platinum discs on another wall and blasted the shiny sphere. He aimed at his TV and blew it to kingdom come.

One bullet left.

He held the silver-plated pistol in awe. He could easily join [Erin]; all it would take was one quick squeeze of the trigger. The idea appealed to him. Maybe he’d get it right in his next life. Slowly, eyes closed, he raised the pistol. The trigger teased his scarlet index finger. The barrel felt good against his temple. Readying himself, he reopened his eyes. In front of him, mocking him, were two more Les Paul guitars. There once was a point in his life when these musical embodiments were holy. The dedication and years of practicing were a labor of love. Guitars were his passion, his expression, and his ticket out of obscurity. But all of that changed with one song. Now these guitars were reminders that [Axl] could never regain his innocence.

“Can’t I fuckin’ die with some dignity?” He wondered as rage consumed him. He couldn’t even commit suicide without music somehow interfering. His shaking arm lowered and took aim at one of the guitars. There was heavy recoil as wooden fragments flew everywhere. He put a massive hole in the guitar, then walked over to examine his accuracy. It was definitely dead, but that wasn’t enough. He picked up the remains and threw them against the safety-glass door. He walked over to the balcony’s edge. Below, a small crowd had gathered around his ruined luxury car.

“Anybody want an autograph?” He asked, tossing out the fragmented guitar. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. I got another present!” He yelled, and ran into the bedroom. His heavy footsteps jarred the cigarette he’d forgotten off the night table. It smoldered on the thick rug. [Axl] dug inside the wall safe, grabbed a handful of hundred-dollar bills, and ran back to the balcony before his audience could scurry away. “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” he announced, letting the money fly. Several wary spectators stepped backward but as soon as it was obvious that the confetti was currency, they rushed forward. [Axl] waved to the small crowd and went back inside.

One guitar remained.

He stared at the ‘57, marveling at the beautiful colors. It was appropriately called a Sunburst. Reds, oranges, and yellows swirled in the wooden body. This one had gold trim as well as golden pickups. The Sunburst was his preference of all guitars. He had another two dozen in storage but this guitar was the first thing he bought after Suicide Shift was signed to a recording contract. It was how he rewarded himself for having made it. This was also the guitar he’d written the music to Estranged on.

He approached it with caution and respect and gently picked it up. He sat down on the floor Indian style. Deep down, he was glad he hadn’t destroyed this ax. His picking hand hurt badly, but he wanted to play. Blood dripped off his hand and dripped down the guitar’s body.

Enthralled, [Axl] watched it run. No matter how intoxicated he was, his fingers never betrayed him, and this particular guitar always responded to his call. He began picking something that sounded like Hendrix. He paused abruptly. Something about that last guitar run shook him up and he couldn’t continue. In a vague way, it reminded him of a part in Estranged. After taking a deep breath, [Axl] partially regained his composure.

Multimillionaires like [Axl Rose] aren’t supposed to cry. They’re beyond tears or at least that’s what society wants to believe. [Axl Rose] was just a talented kid who could run his nimble fingers along a piece of stringed wood. He began to strum one of his favorite riffs, Thin Lizzy’s Don’t Believe A Word. Even though the guitar wasn’t amplified, he could hear it as if it was. He let the last note ring out as he stopped and reflected. He used to love the feel of this instrument in his hands. He used to love making the strings come to life. He used to love just holding this guitar.

Then his mind viciously reminded him that he’d also loved the way [Erin] felt. He quickly rose off the floor and tossed the guitar aside. It landed with a loud DWWWAANNNGGGG. He stared blankly at the guitar and thought of her. Both had given him so much pleasure, but he’d never been able to properly express his gratitude. He never told her the truth about how she made him feel, about how much he loved her, and when he did, the song reaffirmed that he should’ve kept his mouth shut. At least she’d still be alive. But the song was pure and he wanted to play it for her. Even if her physical body wasn’t present, he could still sing to her in heaven. He wanted to jam but was afraid to touch the guitar.

Then [Axl] saw an alternative.

He scooped up the almost-dead whiskey bottle and finished what little was left. It slipped silently from his hand. Very drunk, very drugged out, he staggered over to the piano. The smoldering cigarette on the bedroom rug had burned its way over to the goose-down comforter. The cover caught and flames quickly spread throughout the bedroom. Discarded clothing acted as kindling and soon the bedroom was on fire. Until several hazy hours ago, [Axl’s] life, no matter how miserable, had been something most people could only dream about. It was all an illusion, and he was one of rock n’ roll elites, a hero.

Now, he’d been reduced to his basic self and nothing really mattered. He felt the thorns wrapped around his heart and for the first time in far too long, felt human again. He’d smothered his spirituality in drug abuse. He’d stunted his health and personal growth with vice. He’d blinded himself because he was afraid to see that his purpose, his gift in life, was to be true to himself. And the only time he was able to find that inner truth was when he played his music.

He softly tapped the ivory keys, making melodies come to life through his fingers. No matter how badly his hand hurt, he persisted in making music. He was determined to play for [Erin] and all the other angels. With every fluid run, every harmony, every musical accent, his inner pain subsided a little. With each passing musical note, he became one with the music.

Sweating profusely, [Axl] felt something stirring behind him. He tried ignoring it for as long as possible. Finally, he turned and saw large flames billowing out of his bedroom. At first he thought it was a hallucination but the fire was scorchingly real and heading his way. His favorite guitar was already engulfed and dying. He wanted to save it but couldn’t. He refused to let his jamming be interrupted. [Erin] was listening. Every time his fingers pressed the Steinway’s keys, crimson stained the ivory and smeared. He ignored the small red spots, sliding his long fingers through them.

Scarred-up veins bulged from his forearms as sweat ran down his face. All he’d ever wanted to do with his life was play his music and now he was. For the moment, he felt free from his demons. He built up the courage and began singing Estranged in his natural gruff voice. The thick carpeting quickly became a wall-to-wall inferno as a giant wave of fire rose up and spread around the piano. He couldn’t have cared less. As flames swallowed the apartment, [Axl] never screamed and never missed a note.

The End.

#axl rose #axl gnr #guns n roses #guns n’ roses #erin everly

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femmemortes · 1 year ago

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My top five most brutal SAW traps even though absolutely nobody asked for my fucking opinion:

5 — Pound of Flesh, SAW VI

I feel like this isn’t a trap that’s talked about often enough considering the actual shit you have to do to survive it. I mean come on. Cut off enough of your flesh to survive? And it’s not even like there’s a set amount anyway, it’s a competition between you and another person to see who can do the most. No guidance as to what specific body part to cut off either. You just have to take the knife and just start going crazy. It makes having the punishment for not doing it look not as bad but, then again, actually thinking about having screws drilled into the sides of your temples? Yeah, no thanks babes xxx

Simone was a total badass just hacking her arm straight off like that and living. Just sent it all the way and won, you love to see it.

4 — Silence Circle, SAW 3D

If someone asked me to do this trap I would actually just kill myself instead. Gun in my mouth, bang, gone. Same with all of these to be fair but the fucking idea of the key on a fishing hook in your stomach? And that just raking up your insides as you’re trying to take it out? Fuck that. Fuck. That. I think the only thing that would make me do this would be the other person pulling out the string because if I had to do that shit myself? I’d just scream as loud as I could to make the spikes impale me instantly. I am not doing that shit.

This one gets bumped down a bit because we don’t actually see the visual of the hook going up through her? Which makes it an easier watch than the others on this list, but I still think it deserved a place here because of the sheer insanity of the entire thing.

3 — Bone Marrow Trap, SAW X

Fuck. This. Trap.

Actually fuck it. In my opinion this was the most brutal trap in SAW X. Yes, I know some people make arguments for the brain surgery trap being pretty brutal and yes taking out your brain is just… Wow. And I’ll agree it is bad. But you don’t FEEL your brain.

THIS ON THE OTHER HAND?

CUTTING OFF YOUR LEG AT THE THIGH? WITH A GIGLI SAW NO LESS? The amount of blood loss, the fact if you want to live just have to take that fucking saw to your leg and just DO IT? And then once you’re done you have to take that stupid little fuckoff tube and stick it in your bone and get the bone marrow out, which is ALSO PAINFUL???

Also the part where she grabs the gigli saw in-front of her with her hands… Fuck, just fuck.

Valentina really didn’t deserve to die here, I won’t lie to you. She cut off her leg, was taking out the marrow. I believe had the tube thing for the vacuum to measure how much bone marrow or whatever the fuck had been shorter, she would’ve lived. Yes she started later but like, come the fuck on.

2 — Venus Fly Trap, SAW II

I’m going to start this with, this trap being the first trap of SAW II is an actually insane tone shift from what we had in the first movie. Like, the only trap I really consider brutal in SAW is the reverse bear trap, but we don’t even see that one go off since Amanda survives it.

So seeing this shit right out the gate is just… Oh my god. Wow. Just wow.

This trap has always given me reverse bear trap vibes in appearance, it’s probably the whole thing of, it’s on the head, closes, shuts whatever. I don’t know but it’s got a similar energy to it.

First of all, the whole nails in your face thing? Yeah, hate that. But what I’m most concerned about is the KEY BEHIND THE EYE.

FUCK.

THAT.

SHIT.

The visual of him cutting into his eyeball with the scalpel? And you actually just have to fucking go at it and just… ugh. I was pretty torn between either this trap or the Bone Marrow trap for this kinda reason. Cutting off a leg or cutting open your eye? And honestly the eye is just. Worse. Like just digging into your eye to get out a fucking key? Like all things given, at LEAST I can turn off my brain somewhat while cutting off my leg. Just back and forth with a saw. I don’t even have to look!

THIS? WHAT I’M CUTTING IS DOING THE LOOKING. I STRUGGLE TO PUT ON EYELINER, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO THIS?

1 — The Rack, SAW III

There is a reason why people think this trap is the worst one. There is a reason and it’s fucking obvious.

You’re on a mother-fucking crucifix looking ass thing, legs and arms out, and if this other guy doesn’t take a bullet for you, your limbs are going to be twisted.

YOUR ARMS, LEGS AND NECK are going to be ROTATED 360 DEGREES. ONE. BY. ONE.

Oh and the guy who’s taking the bullet for you? It’s Jeff by the way, stupid fucking Jeff. So you have no chance xxx

The visuals. I can’t watch this trap without looking away, I see the limbs start turning and my line of sight is directly away from the screen. No.

No.

The image of twisting flesh and the fucking shot where you see one of his legs start to move?

NO.

AND HIS HEAD. HIS FUCKING HEAD.

NO.

I DON’T NEED TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS NUMBER ONE. FUCKING LOOK AT IT.

Honourable mentions under the cut:

Honourable mentions go to The Angel Trap and Ten Pints of Sacrifice. I didn’t include the angel trap because I feel like, while yes getting your ribs ripped out is horrific, you don’t really suffer much while alive? Which to me, the more they suffer while alive or trying to complete their trap, the more brutal it is. Ten Pints of Sacrifice isn’t on here because I was doing 5, had I been doing like 10 you would’ve definitely seen this on here. Oh and also, Needle Pit isn’t on here because I’m entirely unfazed by it. I hate to do Mandy like this but I just personally don’t really wince at it at all.

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dapurinthos · 8 months ago

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leslye headland out here giving me the most dopamine-spike-producing half-hour of star wars live action since revenge of the sith.

the shoto INSIDE the regular lightsaber. that is some star wars: visions construction right there. i had to pause the episode to take it in. unfortunately, that meant that poor jecki with three holes in her back was stuck on my screen as i worked through dealing with this sexy, sexy weaponry.

the cortosis gauntlet and helmet YES. i love that this episode is in a forest that's already a horror film location in itself with the giant fuck-off moths and then here comes darth jason hunting down everyone like they're camp counsellors in the 1970s/80s. sith are always the best when they're positioned as horror antagonists in the story.

that was some serious sydney bristow vs. allison doren 'francie doesn't like coffee ice cream' nasty fighting between jecki & mae there.

also, qimir holding the lightsaber's emitter to mae's head? thank you i have wanted someone to do this for so long and no jedi was going to do it. what do you want? freedom. oh WAH WAH WAH i'm a sith i'm killing people and being a cancer on the force WAH poor me. blah blah wonoksh qyâsik nun blah (i've been in tsis language land too long i could write that without looking it up). putting my coins on tenebrous being there on brendok that night since i don't think darth jason would have been old enough.

'the jedi do not attack the unarmed' sol sol beloved uncle sol he's a sith he's not unarmed.

i could hear rael yelling ‘WE CHOOSE THE LIGHT BECAUSE IT’S THE LIGHT NOT BECAUSE IT’S EASY’ from 90 years in the future at mae while she channels anakin's 'they turned you against me!'.

i'm surprised that sol is alive. i'm surprised that mae is still alive because i thought she was going to be gone in this episode, too, but they pulled a twin switch instead, but i was still right about osha now being 'the acolyte'.

also the implications for the jedi history classes are very bad, since disney has red blades being exclusively the province of the sith. there are jedi crusader necklaces out there made from the remains of broken sith lightsabers where you can clearly see the remains of the crystal (okay there's one, but the way it's described in the visual dictionary or whichever one it was definitely implies that it's a fucked-up commemorative thing). the history of the sith is part of the history of the jedi order. 'great' schism implies a lot. when the temple was sacked during the fifty years or so before the end of the last sith war a millennium ago, did the archives get wiped of any information about the sith?

#keeping up with the skywalkers #the acolyte spoilers #+ 100% more certain that qimir IS tenebrous's apprentice because that bith was buying up all the cortosis he could #throwing a pipebomb in disney's house yelling BORTLES except it explodes into copies of darth plagueis

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drunkewok · 2 years ago

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Tiger Inside

Chapter Eight

Stray Kids Mafia (ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 3.2k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Synopsis: After years spent away from the family, two strangers start frequenting your place of work, only to bring daunting news. Flung back into the world of the mafia, you try to adapt to your new normal and work alongside a team of eight skilled members to uncover a mystery and take down an unknown enemy.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and do not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

I swirled my spoon within the bowl of the food in front of me, all sense of appetite absent from my body. My eyes watched as the food traveled around the utensil making different shapes. As much as I’d love to say I had thoughts occupying my mind, it remained nothing but static. The distant buzz accompanied by the visual, electrical rendition of a fizzy soda. I bit the inside of my cheek as my eyes continued to defocus into a blur, accompanied by the blankest stare ever known to man.

I had the absolute pleasure of embracing another sleepless night in the house, it was getting real tiring with the nights spent staring at a blank ceiling barely illuminated by the moonlight with no solution to my racing thoughts in sight. Once again I felt like I was back in the position of one issue popping up one after another, setting themselves up like dominos, yet glued to the floor and refusing to ever topple.

“You just sitting here in silence playing with your food?” My daze is broken to the sudden voice, blinking my vision back as I studied Seungmin now leaning against the counter sipping on a fresh cup of coffee, eyes filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Finally releasing my grip on the spoon, I reached up and rubbed my face with a yawn. He tilted his head as I brought my attention back to him with a sigh.

“I guess I was just zoned out, a bit tired.” Seungmin hummed in agreement with a nod, holding his mug up slightly with a gesture to offer myself one. I nodded weakly, gratefully accepting the hot drink as he slid it across the counter to me.

“Yeah a lot of the house didn’t get much sleep last night.” He held the cup up to his lips, pausing before taking his drink. “Especially with people sneaking in and out late at night.” He mumbled into the mug before finally taking his sip. I quickly struggled to avoid choking on my coffee, setting it down before glancing around the room to ensure it was just the two of us before continuing.

“Jesus christ, you too? Does the whole house know?”

“What? That you took off and Minho had to chase you down?” I quickly shushed him with a sharp flick of the wrist, attempting to adorn my strongest firm look to ensure he’d shut his mouth. His slight chuckle as he took another sip did nothing to calm my tension. “Relax.” He set the cup down beside him, now leaning back and crossing his arms. “I was up with Felix all night going over the codes, no one else knows but us. He just happened to be getting us another cup of coffee when you two came sneaking in.” I placed my face in my hand, rubbing circles into my temples. “No need to worry, your secret is safe with us. I’m just surprised you came back without Minho biting your head off.”

“Oh trust me, he was just about to.” My mind flashed to the brief moment of panic the moment Minho grabbed my arm in the alley, the familiar gut dropping feeling manifesting once again almost immediately. “I just had some things I had to take care of, okay?” My shoulders dropped in defeat, my voice falling to that of a whisper. “I had every intention of coming back.” My fingers wrapped around the steaming mug in front of me, the high temperature against my fingertips not causing me the alarm that it definitely should have. My eyes focused on the dark liquid, thoughts drifting back to Seongho once again.

“Just be careful.” His joking demeanor was quickly gone, now replaced with a soothing voice, almost concerned. “Now isn’t the time to be running off like that. You need to be safe.” I gave him a soft smile. I knew he and Minho were right, it was a careless move on my end, but in the moment I didn’t know any other option I had. But in turn, I may have been putting myself, and Seongho, in harm's way.

Almost on cue, Minho stepped into the doorframe in silence. I swear this man had the agility of a cat, able to move silently almost as if he was floating across the floor. His eyes glanced between myself and Seungmin, who opted against eye contact and brought his cup to his lips again.

“Com’on.” Minho’s words were sharp, slicing through the silence immediately. I was taken aback by his abrupt demand, hesitating on obeying immediately. He placed his hands in his pockets with a slight tilt of the head, clearly unamused by my stationary figure. “Your training? We don’t have time for days off now.” He nodded to the hallway behind him as he turned around and made his way to the basement stairs. I glanced back to Seungmin, already heading towards Felix’s room.

“Don’t look at me. This is your monster, I have my own to battle with Felix. Good luck!” He waved me off as he began to ascend the stairs, leaving me once again by myself in the kitchen. I groaned as I leaned back in the stool, letting my arms drape behind me dramatically before finally rising and cleaning up my dishes.

As expected, I found Minho in the basement. His figure sitting on a bench in the hall between the multiple doors stretching the walls. His hand rose, pointing down the hall towards the door housing the shooting range.

“I need to see your shots. Go on.” My eyes rolled as I made my way past him toward the door, opening it to see my pistol sitting on a table before a target in the distance. I stopped in my tracks and glanced back to Minho, his face still flat and emotionless as his eyes guided to the target. I’m starting to question just how many of my belongings these boys were able to get off of me during my initial arrival, a slight twinge of regret with now realizing I had let my gun out of my sight long enough for one of them to get their hands on it.

I reached forward, grabbing the ear protection, and starting to load the loose ammo into the weapon. I checked the stance of my feet, grounding myself before holding the gun steady in front of me. After firing off multiple shots toward the target, I took a moment to examine my work. I tried not to grin as I glanced behind me, clearly impressed with my accomplishment. Minho slowly nodded with brows raised, once again trying to fight the slight smirk trying to adorn his lips as the view of my skill.

“Okay, not bad. I’ll give you that.” He stepped over to a button on the wall, pressing it and putting the target in motion. “But it’s different when your target is moving, do it again.” With a huff I turned back and reloaded the pistol, the gall of this man to doubt me in every sense of the matter.

My shots were slower this time, attempting to keep my hand steady as I tracked the target. Its movements were inconsistent, making it impossible to predict its next direction. Multiple of my shots missed, and I attempted to keep myself from frustration as each attempt grew worse. My brows furrowed in irritation as I pulled my ear coverings off, placing them and the gun on the table in front of me with a huff.

“Have to get that attitude in check.” My head snapped around to Minho, standing behind me and studying the poorly hit target.

“Excuse me?” The scoff that shot from my lips came off stranger than I intended, my ability to hide offense nonexistent.

“What?” His eyes crossed from the target to me, a look of irritated confusion. “You really think you can get worked up in the moment like that, miss all of your shots, and still make it out alive? I hate to break it to you, but humans move when they’re being shot at.”

“Wow, thank you. What fantastic pointers. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time.” Minho strode back over to the wall, selecting another button as a fresh target replaced the abused one.

“Good to hear it.” A smug look spread across his cheeks as he gave a half assed smile in my direction. “It’s next time, do it again.” He pressed the first button again as the target started to move down the aisle. “Stay steady with the target, follow it and only pull the trigger only when you’re confident. Keep your breathing slow, put all of your focus on the target.” His words now felt a bit softer, that he was actually trying to put in the effort to assist instead of just giving criticism.

I took a deep breath before raising the pistol once again, keeping the aim in line with the target as it’s position shifted. My finger hesitated against the trigger, unsure of when to make the attempt. I slowed each breath, avoiding any movement of my arms caused by the action. Finally I applied the pressure needed to fire, the bullet making contact with the middle of the target as I heard a muffled cheer behind me through the earmuffs. With a bit more confidence, I stayed tracking the target, firing off more shots until the gun was empty and I laid it down to check my results.

“I knew you had it in there somewhere, you just can’t let yourself get worked up like that. It’ll mess up all the shots.” Minho took a seat behind me, a slow clap following. “You gotta put in more practice on the moving target though. A couple good shots on it aren’t gonna pass.” I laid down the earmuffs again and leaned against the wall beside me, glancing at the man sitting to my side. His face was smug, as if he was crediting himself for the improvement.

“Don’t get cocky about it now, maybe I was just determined to prove you wrong.”

“Even if that was the reasoning, it still worked. Did it not?” Oh what I would give to smack that smirk off his face. The level of satisfaction it could bring me.

As if he had read my thoughts, the smirk was gone. His familiar cold demeanor returned once again. “Have you told him?” My eyes immediately glued to the floor in front of me, I was still unsure of how to even approach Chan on the matter, let alone how the conversation would even play out. With a sigh, Minho stood and made his way to the door, holding it open and gesturing out with the tilt of the head. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” My eyes grew in shock, the thought of heading up to his office right now looming over my shoulders.

“I told you that you need to tell him. If you don’t, I will. And I’ll have to explain the reason I know of him, and I don’t think you want me to explain your little night escapade, now do you?”

It felt like with each step the staircase grew longer, my desire for it to instantly transform into a downward escalator creating a never ending treadmill of a stair climb strengthening, not wanting to ever reach the top. Minho stayed close behind, ensuring I didn’t try and slither myself away from the situation. The dark halls felt as though they were looming over me and closing in as I stepped foot outside of Chan’s office door.

Reaching up, my fist made contact with multiple knocks, waiting for the muffled come in from behind the door. I slid the door open slightly, just enough to peek my head in, seeing Chan raise his head from the paper he was writing on for a brief moment before continuing.

“Hi Chan… Could I-Could I speak with you for a moment?” My inability to formulate a smooth sentence for him had me mentally slamming my head against a wall. As he beckoned me in, Minho slid inside directly behind me, causing Chan to glance up at the two of us through his lashes before setting down his pen and raising his head slowly in exasperated disappointment.

“It’s been one day… What have you two done now?”

“Oh no, it’s not about us. He’s been helping me on my aim and it’s…” I glanced back to Minho, once again expressionless, before turning back to Chan. “…going well.” Chan’s raised brow while glancing between the two of us suggested disbelief in my statement, but I knew we could cross that bridge at another time. I took a seat before Chan, scratching the back of my neck while trying to formulate how to approach this.

“So there’s someone I just wanna let you know about.” Chan sat back in his seat, hands in lap, studying me as he waited for me to continue. “He’s someone who’s been really close to me ever since I left.”

“Is it that bartender from Blossom?” My breath caught in my throat, my muscles tensing as I processed Chan’s immediate response. His initial unfazed expression changed as he studied my startled reaction, a brow raising in confusion. “What? You thought I didn’t already know about him? Hyunjin and Felix were visiting for months, do you really think they weren’t reporting back to me at all?” My mouth hung slack as I stuttered an attempt at a response, glancing back to Minho who leaned against a wall, smirking down at his feet in silence.

“I guess-I just didn’t really think about it that way.” I rubbed my thumb into the palm of my hand in an attempt to soothe the nerves growing in my veins, Chan nodded with a soft hum before lifting his pen once again and turning his attention back to the paper in front of him.

“So what about him do I need to know? Is there something he knows that he shouldn’t?” The soft scratch of pen to paper filled the silent room as I hesitated on my answer,

“No, not at all. He thinks I left to help out at a convenience store run by my parents.” My palm turned red as the pressure from my thumb increased, my nervous tick taking over as I struggled to keep my head level. Chan hummed slightly as he nodded his head.

“Then what’s the issue?” He pulled the top paper off the stack, setting it to the side as he continued on to the next sheet, scribbling down word after word.

“I just-I need to know that he’ll be safe.” Chan peered up at me through his lashes as his pen hesitated before continuing to write.

“I can’t make you that promise.” His eyes fell back on the project in front of him, my jaw tensing with nervousness as I racked my brain for solutions.

“What if I did it?” Both Chan and Minho’s eyes immediately glued to me, the three of us sitting in a painful silence. “Let me go back to work at Blossom, so I can keep an eye on him.”

“Hell no.” Minho’s harsh voice cut the thick air from behind me, finally speaking up. I turned as he pushed off the wall and made his way towards us, his eyes drilling into me. "You really think being near him will keep him out of harm's way? You’ll only be leading it straight to him, let alone yourself.” As I opened my mouth to protest, Chan quickly cut me off.

“He’s right. That will only cause more harm than good.” Chan cleared his throat as he quietly drummed a single finger on his desk. “I’ll see what I can do, but once again, I can’t make you any promises.” Accepting I was outnumbered in the debate, I swallowed my words and nodded silently, my eyes falling on my hands in my lap in defeat.

“Does Jiho know about the shipments?” Chan’s hand froze as he stopped writing, my abrupt question clearly catching him off guard. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath before setting the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his stern eyes meeting my own.

“Not yet, no.” Chan interlocked his fingers together in his lap, now his turn to hesitate before continuing. “He’s a busy man, I haven’t been able to schedule a meeting with him yet to discuss it.” His fingers ran through his hair, I only just now began to notice the lack of sleep manifesting under his eyes, levels of stress taking over as he struggled to find answers. “I have work I need to finish, we can discuss this later.” He shooed the two of us off, I followed Minho out of the room in silence before the door finally latched behind us, leaving the two of us in the hallway alone.

“What the fuck was that?” Minho raised a brow at my abrupt verbal aggression, a quizzical expression as he stayed silent. “He knew!? Were you aware of this?” He smirked as he let out a huff of amusement, his eyes falling deeper down the hall, avoiding my own.

“Of course I was, did you really assume he wasn’t going to know? It was quite obvious.” I smacked his chest as my face scrunched in frustration. The audacity of this man to force me into Chan’s office, having a discussion that clearly did not need to occur.

“Why would you make me do this then? What was the point? Was this for your sick amusement?” Anger started to boil in my veins, every time I start to think we’re trying to make progress, Minho throws us three steps back.

“Of course not. I needed to make sure you’d do it. There’s no keeping secrets here.” My jaw clenched as Minho finally met my stare, his flat expression only infuriating me more as he subtly cocked his head to the side, slipping his hands into his pockets and far too calm. I balled my hands into fists at my side, restraining myself from ripping into him here and now.

He was treating me as some toy, dangling me in front of him and playing with me as if I was like a puppet for his own amusement. I questioned if he would ever be able to take me seriously, to treat me if I was an equal and not something below him. His cocky nature pushing me to the brink of explosion.

“You’re insufferable.” I pushed past him, clipping his shoulder as I left him behind with a scoff. I stopped before rounding the corner down the hall, turning back to him as he slowly turned my direction. “I’m willing to make our situation at least a little bearable here, it’d be the least you can do to get off your high horse and at least treat me with the same level of respect.” With that I turned on my heel, continuing down the dark halls toward my room and slamming my door behind me in frustration.

Next Chapter

#stray kids mafia #stray kids #skz mafia #skz #lee know x reader #lee know enemies to lovers #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #jeongin #fanfiction #stray kids freeze

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lunabellingham · 2 years ago

Text

Hard Earned Victory

Summary: Vini wins the champions league with Real Madrid and he and y/n go to a party with all his teammates and their gf/wives to celebrate the win. After the party y/n has to take care of cute drunk vini.

Warnings: alcohol and really cute vini.

Word count: 704

You were currently sitting in the VIP seats in the infamous, 'Estadio Santiago Bernabeu' cheering for your boyfriend, Vini. It was close to the end of the game and Madrid was winning 1-0 against Liverpool. The whistle was sounded and this marked the official 14th champions league for Real Madrid. You took so many photos that your phone had ran out of storage again.(this happens so much lmao) After the game, you and Vini were getting ready to go out to the club to party with his teammates and so you could catch up with the girls.

Vini's fit:

Your outfit:

(You can choose anything you want to wear :D, I just wanted to add a little visual)

While you were getting your makeup done on your vanity, you couldn't help but occasionally stare at Vinicius while he was getting ready. It's something you cant control, and seeing as though neither can he. Both your eyes meet with a smile and a light chuckle from Vini.

After a while you guys finally get into the car and start driving to the club.

"I am so proud of you today Vini"

"thank you meu amor, I was so glad you were there with me" (my love)

"i'll always be there for you Vini" and you gave him a quick peck on his cheek before you guys pulled up to the parking area.

Once he parked and y'all were making your way to the entrance, Vini lightly took your hand into his. Vinicius wasn't really the jealous type, but after seeing all the glances you were getting from the random men in the club, he wanted to make sure that everyone knew you were taken.

You guys made your way through the people heavily packed inside the club before taking a seat on the couches next to his teammates and your friends.

Y'all talked all together for a while before you and vini decided to part for a little. The boys were gonna go have a drink next to the bar area and the girls would continue talking together.

You were currently talking to Courtois' wife when you felt someone slump next to you on the couch.All the girls turned to see that is was none other than Vinicius.

"wanna dance pretty lady?" Vinicius asked

Your friends burst into soft laughter and started taking pictures of you two while you chuckled and said,

"I think its time we go home" you stated, immediately recognizing that Vini was really sleepy and tired as he was literally cuddling your arm.

You said your goodbyes to your friends and some of Vini's teammates as you made your way towards the exit holding onto Vinicius' hand so he doesn't accidentally wonder off.

You made your way safely to the car before taking the keys from Vini's pockets and holding on to them before you opened the passenger seat door as Vini clearly couldn't drive properly right now.

As you were driving you had noticed that Vini had fallen asleep.You were softly admiring him not realizing the traffic lights changing and being slightly scared when you heard a loud horn beep as a slight reminder.

Once you made it home ,you had to wake up Vinicius. You definitely couldn't lift him so he slumped against your shoulder as you unlocked the door to your shared home.You went into y'alls bedroom and helped Vini get changed into some comfortable shorts and a shirt. You tucked him into bed and kissed his temple before turning around to try and change your dress when you felt Vini pull you back into the bed.

"don't leave, I want you to cuddle me" Vini said as he slightly pouted his face

"I have to go change babe, I wont take long." you promised

"ok, just please don't take really long"Vini said

You came back in less than 10 minutes after having changed into one of Vini's shirts and some comfortable shorts.Once you laid down on the bed, Vini pulled you really close to him and whispered a quick i love you before going to sleep.You slowly started to drift off to sleep soon hearing his soft breathing and the light rain hitting the windows.

Author's Note: I've been on tumblr for a while and haven't seen barely any Vini imagines at all, so I decided why not try to write one. If you are reading this, PLEASE MAKE MORE VINI CONTENT. thats it :D, hope u like it. (all fiction, has nothing to do with the real Vinicius Jr, amazing player btw)

#vinicius jr #vini jr #football #football imagines #brazil nt #real madrid #champions league

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pierrotsmoon · 2 years ago

Text

Love (and Logic)

Chapter 1- Temple of Love

(crossposted from my Ao3)

Going to Miskatonic as an art student is tough enough; the pretentious boy in Y/N's anatomy course is somehow making it worse.

A/N: I researched bone structure for this, any skeletal enthusiasts feel free to make corrections. Also character's thoughts will be italicized.

Herbert West x Fem! Reader

Warnings!- Enemies to lovers, harrasment, dr. Hill being creepy, first day of classes, budding friendships, DAN AND HERB RESPECT WOMEN!!! tell me if I missed anything!

Going to Miskatonic as an art student was what Y/N had wanted for her entire life. The prestigious institution allowed her a full-ride scholarship, probably because they needed more fine arts students to keep getting grant money. Best not to dwell on negatives! As Y/N opened up her backpack, she shoved in her sketchbook, textbook, pencil case, and field watercolor kit. Swinging the pack over her back, she broke open her apartment door and sauntered out.

Y/N opened up the pink class schedule she had written, anatomy, wonderful. The medical students at Miskatonic seemed good at first, but tended to look down upon the arts, especially during classes often shared by both majors. As soon as she walked through the door, the eyes of the few students inside turned to her. The instructor came up to her.

"Good morning. I’m Doctor Carl Hill, and I'm pleased to meet you."

The doctor smiled at her, and Y/N felt a chill climb up her spine. This man did not leave a good taste in her mouth, and she didn't like how he placed his hand on her shoulder. She quickly found a seat next to a young man who was glaring at the doctor.

“He’s such a creep around girls.”

The man whispered to himself loudly enough for only them to hear. Y/N looked down at her watch; it was 20 minutes until class started. The��brunette in scrubs turned around to look at the young woman, giving her a (far less creepy) smile. He wore gloves on his hands and appeared frazzled, with messy hair and untied shoelaces.

"My name is Dan, and I'm a medical student; what are you studying?"

Dan gave her a boyish smile, and the young woman smiled back.

“I’m Y/N, I study visual and fine arts.”

The boy looked momentarily amazed, like he had stars in his eyes. He looked at her casual clothing, sweater, a skirt, and Mary Janes—and he knew he had finally found a friend in his least favorite class. The two of them began making small talk as the sound of footsteps broke the conversation.

“Good morning doctor, is the skull functions quiz today?”

The professor visibly tensed.

“Dr. West, a pleasure as always.”

Y/N turned her head around to meet the eyes of a scrutinizing figure, almost glaring at her with lips that slowly sunk into a frown.

She immediately looked away, annoyed by his insistence on looking at her like she was Satan.

“Is she even in proper scrubs?”

The eyes of the entire room, which was now rather packed, turned to Y/N. She looked back at him with fire in her eyes.

“I’m just a spectator from the arts department, I hope that doesn't bother you too much.”

He gave off this perturbed hmph before sitting down in the only chair left, right between Y/N and Dan.

“Come on, Herbert, she’s nice!”

Herbert pointedly turned his head away from his roommate’s incessant whining. He didn't need to become friends with art students. What would they ever do for him? The girl would just be another squeamish failure; why should he tolerate that? He turned forward to see the skeleton model come out of the industrial closet, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl rapidly flip to a clean page in her sketchbook. ‘So unprepared.’ Herbert was aware that the few art students in the class would leave after this semester, when the lessons on bone structure and anatomy concluded. He'll be glad that his routine will be back to normal.

“Does the femur support more than the leg bones and knees?”

Herbert looked to his side again, polished shoes tapping impatiently on the white linoleum. ‘ Why was she asking such easy and insufferable questions?’

The professor animatedly stepped closer, leaning over her shoulder and answering intently. Herbert sighed ‘a plagiarist and a creep.’ He was getting ready to go back to his own clipboard, until he saw the professor's hands begin to get closer and closer to her hip, horror filling her already scared eyes.

“Professor! Could you assess these notes on the pelvic joints?”

It disgusted Herbert to see how he looked genuinely disappointed at the prospect of not getting to harass a young woman who looked close to tears. Dan noticed the spectacle, looking around one more time to see that everyone else was focused on their work. He gave Herbert a pointed glance, a non-verbal good job.

★

The students all gave their half attention to the professor when he opened up a filing cabinet, grabbing a manila folder and opening it. He handed out a copy to each student.

“Alright then! A new semester with new students allows for another project. Since our new students hail from the arts sector, I’ve planned an art project for the class.”

‘Oh God, why?’ Herbert was well aware that he didn't have a good reputation with Dr. Hill, but failing a project would result in a significant drop in his grade; after all, art had never been his strong suit.

Dr. Hill began listing off all of the pairings, most of whom were rather excited to get to know one another.

“ And Y/N with Herbert.”

The two young adults turned around and stared at one another, shortly before Dan broke the silence.

“Just make sure you two keep it quiet.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

the future chapters are gonna be better

#herbert west x reader #reanimator #herbert west #horror films #horror movies #horror x reader #slasher x reader #miskatonic university #enemies to lovers #dan cain #the reanimator

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griseldabanks · 1 year ago

Note

Okay, let's try this again.

Obi-Wan and Anakin, 10, from Let Me Count the Ways. Just... make it angsty, and make it sweet, and pleeeease have a hug in there.

Your wish is my command! o7

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Prompt: "I thought I lost you..."

Glistening towers of metal and transparisteel. Weak sunlight breaking through the clouds in splotches. Lanes of speeders and air taxis, like glittering beads on dozens of criss-crossing strings. Flashing advertisements running up the sides of buildings. Crowds of people, pressing together, everyone moving, everyone hurrying.

Anakin pressed his nose against the window behind his seat, trying to soak in all the sights flitting past as the mag-lev train zipped through the air. The Temple was great and all, but after four months without setting so much as a foot outside, he was more than ready to see what Coruscant was really like. If only they could have taken a speeder instead, so he could take in all the smells—

“Sit down, Anakin.”

Reluctantly, Anakin slid down from where he'd been kneeling backwards on his seat to get a better view, and sat facing forward like his Master. This wasn't just an outing for fun, after all; it was supposed to be a hands-on lesson, and if he didn't pay attention, he'd probably be cooped up in the Temple for another four months. Oh well, at least the inside of the mag-lev was just as interesting, with beings from many species and all walks of life brushing shoulders.

“Close your eyes.”

Suppressing a sigh, Anakin did as he was told. They'd already done this twice—once on the steps of the Temple, once in the central mag-lev terminal.

“Describe your surroundings,” Obi-Wan said in a low voice.

With a deep breath, Anakin focused on the image in his mind of the glimpse he'd just gotten of the mag-lev interior. “There's a family of Sollustans sitting across from us,” he muttered so only Obi-Wan could hear. “The mother's holding a baby; the father's holding a bag; looks like they've just been shopping. There are two Grans sitting to their left and a Trandoshan on their right who's looking at his datapad. Three humans are standing by the door; they're talking about a Senator, I think—“

“What color is the Trandoshan's coat?” Obi-Wan gently prodded.

Anakin thought hard, tried to visualize it.... “Red?”

“Are you guessing, or can you see it?”

He cracked an eye open, just enough to peek over at the Trandoshan wearing...okay, it was more of a maroonish purple than red, but he was close!

A nudge of Obi-Wan's elbow brought his attention back to his Master. He looked up to find Obi-Wan looking at him with one eyebrow quirked knowingly. But the hint of amusement at the corner of his mouth reassured Anakin that he wasn't too upset.

Anakin smiled sheepishly. “How could you tell?”

“Because I, too, was once a Padawan with better things to do.”

For a moment, he tried to imagine Obi-Wan as a ten-year-old boy doing this same exercise...but that brought up thoughts of Qui-Gon, which he quickly brushed aside. “So you admit there's better things to do!”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Nice try, Padawan.”

They did the exercise three more times, sitting in the mag-lev as they passed from the uppermost levels into the shadow of the towering skyscrapers. Anakin knew it was important to work on his memory and observation skills—there would be hundreds of applications of such skills on a mission—but he wished there was a more interesting way to do it. Or that they could observe some food....

Maybe Obi-Wan could sense his hunger, or maybe he heard Anakin's stomach growl. Either way, Obi-Wan finally turned to him and said, “Why don't we take a break and find something to eat?”

Anakin nodded eagerly.

As they got to their feet and made their way through the crowd to the doors, Anakin realized how many more people had gotten on the train since they'd first boarded. It was one thing to observe the crowd from their seats, but it was a different matter to squeeze past beings of every type and description, all crammed into this small space. Obi-Wan moved with ease between them, barely even seeming to brush against any of them, while Anakin kept bumping into people and having to apologize.

Then the train slid to a stop at a terminal, and the doors hissed open. Immediately, a surge of people pushed through the door, jostling past those trying to get out. Obi-Wan moved with the current of those leaving the train, stepping outside with the same easy grace as always. Anakin hastened to follow him, but found every path blocked by someone trying to go the other way. Then an elbow smacked against his cheek, sending him reeling backwards.

Anakin would have sprawled onto the floor, had there not been someone standing right behind him.

“Watch it, kid!” the hefty Klatooinian growled, shoving him away.

Stumbling forward and squeezing between two large women jabbering away in some language he didn't understand, Anakin finally reached the doors—right as they closed with a hiss and a snap. Anakin caught a brief glimpse of Obi-Wan looking over his shoulder in surprise before the train whisked him away.

“Master!” he called out, heart leaping into his throat. Too late. The train had already left the terminal and begun to snake around the buildings as before.

Anakin slammed his palm against the window, staring blankly at the buildings and vehicles whizzing past at high speed. His brain whirled even faster, half-formed thoughts flitting through like the streaks of starlight in hyperspace.

What am I going to do how will I find him again what if I never get back I don't know where I am what if I'm lost forever and I have to live on the streets and I'll starve because I don't have any money and I'll never become a Jedi and—

No. I am a Jedi. What's Obi-Wan always say? Relax. Take a deep breath.

Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the cool transparisteel, Anakin tried to follow his Master's advice. He took a deep breath and opened himself to the Force, trying to pretend this was just another lesson in the Temple.

But this wasn't the Temple. This wasn't the Room of a Thousand Fountains or a classroom filled with calm and silence. This was a mag-lev train crammed full with dozens and dozens of beings, speeding through a city filled with millions and billions and trillions of people, and as soon as he opened his mind, all of their minds came flooding in, like a thousand voices all clamoring at once, and there were too many bodies pressed against him, too many thoughts, too many sources of life, like pinpricks of light that all combined together into a roiling nebula that closed around him, suffocating, overwhelming—

The train pulled to a stop and the doors hissed open. Anakin stumbled out, every sense jangling like a discordant orchestra in his head. All he could do was push through the crowd in the terminal to an empty corner where he slid down into a crouch on the floor, pressing his hands to his ears as if that would shut everything out.

It took him a few minutes of breathing slowly and carefully, staring at a crack in the floor between his feet and trying desperately to empty his mind of all thought, before he felt calm enough to look at his surroundings. Heart still beating a little too hard and fast, Anakin looked around the terminal. Beings walked to and fro, making their way to the turbolifts or finding a seat to wait for the next train. There was a tiny cafe nearby selling some kind of fried food that sizzled invitingly; Anakin's stomach growled, but the smell of fried meat suddenly made him feel sick. Not that he had any money to buy anything anyway.

What was he going to do? Anakin looked around blankly, watching the crowd thin out somewhat. He could see the sign indicating which terminal this was, but that meant nothing to him. He had no idea where he was, except that it was definitely too far to walk back to the Temple. They'd been riding the train for a long time. How many stations had they passed? Anakin desperately tried to remember, but when he closed his eyes, nothing came to mind.

He hadn't been paying enough attention. He'd let his mind wander. He'd relied on Obi-Wan to keep track of where they were and where they were going, and now look where he was. He'd messed everything up.

Was Obi-Wan angry with him? Or worse...disappointed?

Shaking his head fiercely, Anakin forced himself to his feet again. He was a Jedi! Jedi didn't cower in corners over silly little things like this! They always knew what to do. Or they figured it out. This was just like another training exercise. Who knew how many times in the future he'd be on a mission and would have to navigate on his own, with no clear direction and no Obi-Wan at his side?

Curling his hands into fists, Anakin marched over to a nearby information kiosk, with a holographic diagram of the mag-lev routes. At first, the overlapping lines looked like nothing but a tangle of multicolored noodles, but finally he managed to find the terminal he was currently standing in. He traced the line back to the previous terminal—yes, that name sounded familiar—and after glancing around, he found the turbolift that would take him to the trains heading the other way.

Obi-Wan was at the previous terminal. Anakin could just hop aboard a train heading in the opposite direction, and...no. He couldn't buy a ticket. Nor could he get an air taxi, even though the driver would surely be able to take him all the way back to the Temple. But with no credits....

His pulse pounded loudly in his ears. He could do this. He could! All he had to do was walk to the terminal where Obi-Wan had gotten off. He just had to follow the mag-lev line until he found it. That wasn't so hard. Maybe he'd even meet Obi-Wan on the way!

That thought propelled him towards the nearest turbolift. See? he told himself. Nothing to worry about. I'm not just some country bumpkin from the Outer Rim. I can find my way around Coruscant just fine.

His confidence evaporated as quickly as a puddle in the Dune Sea when he stepped off the turbolift and found himself on a crowded walkway. Which way was he supposed to go again? Right or left? Anakin looked around, quickly sidestepping as several people shuffled into the turbolift behind him.

Everything looked different up here. He'd gotten turned around, and the clouds were growing thicker overhead, obscuring the sun. And which direction was the terminal, anyway? Was it east? Or maybe it was north?

Anakin's breathing kicked up a notch, but he couldn't stand still any longer. He had to move. So he chose the right—he thought that was the right direction—and started briskly down the walkway.

As the minutes ticked past, the cloud of anxiety only grew larger and larger in Anakin's stomach. The farther from the terminal he got, the narrower the passageways grew, breaking off to the left and right, skirting around buildings and towers. The crowds thinned out, but that just made Anakin's skin crawl, because then it felt like everyone walking in the opposite direction was staring at him. Wondering what a boy like him was doing, walking around Coruscant on his own and looking completely lost.

He also got the sneaking suspicion he wasn't exactly in the best part of town. The parts of the city Obi-Wan had taken him to so far were always full of gleaming buildings and clean streets, well-dressed beings who were always courteous, if busy. Now the buildings seemed to loom overhead, casting deep shadows over the dirty walkway. Trash collected in piles in the corners, and the people he passed looked a little shabby.

If only this were Mos Espa, Anakin would know exactly where to go. He would know which streets to avoid, he could spot the warning signs when trouble was brewing....

Homesickness swirled sickeningly with the anxiety in his stomach as he felt the first few droplets of rain. Normally, Anakin loved the rain, so rare back on Tatooine but so common here. He fondly remembered the first time it had rained after they'd come back to Coruscant, and Obi-Wan had led him out onto a balcony in the Temple where he could feel the delicate raindrops pattering against his skin and soaking his clothes.

Now, he hunched his shoulders and squinted through the downpour, which grew heavier and heavier by the minute. There were even fewer people out now, most of them running or walking briskly, heading for shelter.

Shivering, Anakin shaded his eyes as he looked upward, hunting for the mag-lev train. He couldn't find it, but he wasn't sure if that was because of all the buildings or just because there wasn't a train going past at the moment.

He plodded onward, but a leaden weight settled into his gut as he realized he had no idea where he was going anymore. He wasn't even sure he knew how to get back to the terminal, because he'd made a turn somewhere back there....

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and Anakin whipped his head around to find two men standing in the shelter of a recessed doorway to his left. They were smoking something, passing a pipe back and forth and eyeing him closely. Anakin knew that look. It was the look of a predator, staring down an easy morsel as they decided whether they were hungry enough to pounce.

Anakin clenched his jaw and his fists, looking at them out of the corner of his eye and forcing himself not to run. If they came for him...he didn't have a lightsaber. Or a blaster. But he did have the Force.

When he opened himself up this time, he did so cautiously, easing his mind open so as not to be flooded all at once. Maybe it was because he was prepared for the many life forces pressing in on all sides, maybe it was because there were so few people close by, but this time it was bearable. Not unlike the way it felt in the Temple, except that everyone in the Temple was calm and warm, like dozens of candles burning steadily in the night. These two men felt...dark. Oily. Dirty.

But he could take them. He could, he could, he.... Anakin came to a halt, panic short-circuiting his brain as they stepped towards him, dark malice in their eyes.

“Anakin!”

The blaze of a sun breaking over the horizon, sudden warmth and blinding brightness, banishing the shadows once and for all. Anakin whirled around to see Obi-Wan running towards him, the hood of his cloak blowing back in his haste. Anakin glanced back at the two men, who muttered something that sounded like “Jedi” and quickly made themselves scarce.

“Master!” Anakin cried as Obi-Wan skidded to a halt on the slick walkway, eyeing the men as they scuttled away.

“Anakin, why didn't you get off at the next terminal and stay there?” Obi-Wan turned his fierce expression to Anakin, rainwater trickling through the furrows in his brow. “I could have taken the next train and found you in five minutes! Instead, you sent me on a merry chase, and if I hadn't found you when I did....”

“I'm sorry—I just—I thought—“ To his horror, Anakin felt tears welling up, and he quickly ducked his head, hoping the rain would disguise them.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, stupid! Jedi don't cry! Master your emotions! Don't make him any more disappointed than—

Obi-Wan let out a heavy sigh and sank to one knee. Then he wrapped his arms around Anakin and pulled him close. “I thought I lost you.”

Anakin stood frozen in Obi-Wan's embrace, enveloped in the warm, dry cloth of his cloak. He could feel Obi-Wan in the Force now; with him so close, Anakin could finally distinguish him from the maelstrom of all the other beings around them.

He felt fear from Obi-Wan. Anxiety. Relief. A bit of irritation masking the fear The relief was strongest, though.

Not a shred of disappointment.

Slowly, Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan too, burying his face in the rough, wet cloth of his shoulder. His cloak was already wet, so maybe he wouldn't notice or mind too much if Anakin let a few tears fall. “Sorry,” he mumbled again.

Obi-Wan let out another sigh and tightened his grip around Anakin. “No...we should have discussed a plan in case this happened. Or I should have gotten you a comlink. You were supposed to be beside me the whole time, so I thought there was no need....”

“I was scared,” Anakin whispered. The words fell from his lips before he could reel them in. He bit his lip, recoiling from the failure written into every syllable.

After a moment, Obi-Wan murmured, “I was scared too. When I reached the terminal and you were nowhere in sight....”

Anakin shivered. Obi-Wan shifted, his fingers splayed across Anakin's back.

“And what do we do when we feel fear, Padawan?”

Anakin drew in a shaky breath, remembering one of the very first lessons he'd learned at the Temple. “We accept it, then let it go.”

“That's right.”

For a minute or two, they just stood there, breathing together. The tight wad of anxiety in Anakin's chest loosened with every breath, melting away in the face of Obi-Wan's warmth. With Obi-Wan here...he could accept the fear. Because together, they could deal with it.

The Force thrummed between them like a plucked string. Or maybe they were both instruments the Force was slowly tuning, until finally they were in harmony again.

After a bit, Anakin felt calm enough to mumble, “How'd you find me?”

He could feel the fond chuckle through Obi-Wan's chest. “When you open yourself to the Force, Anakin...you're like a blazing bonfire. All I had to do was follow your light.”

“You could feel me?”

“Yes. It seems you couldn't hear me calling to you, but that will come in time.” He pulled back, looking Anakin in the eye. “Whenever you are lost, Anakin, call to me, and I will find you.”

“What if you can't?”

With a warm smile, Obi-Wan swiped his sleeve across Anakin's wet face. “Then trust in the Force. It will guide you home.”

#ask and you shall receive #a2on1break #let me count the ways #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #kind of anxious about this still because you love them SO MUCH and i've never written anakin before ^^'#the key to this for me was finding a way to connect it to jedi apprentice lol #(the memory exercise is one i got from the third book)

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