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therealvalkyrie · 4 years ago

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Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 4

the ackerman influence

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: consumption of alcohol and weed products, intoxication, swearing, pretty dang fluffy

AN: SURPRISE BITCHES it’s out tonight!! An infinite thank you belongs to my beloved @ghostlightprincess for her keen eye for editing and swoon-worthy compliments and encouragements. Seriously, this chapter is dedicated entirely to her. I hope y’all enjoy!! I hope y’all appreciate the love I gave Sasha this chapter because........reasons. Pleease feel free to come scream/squeal/chat in my DMs or askbox! In love with you all<3 ~valkyrie

(read part 3 here)

“Here, thisun ‘sblue!” Hange slurs as she passes you yet another shot glass with Greek letters etched on the side.

“Mmm, I like blue,” you giggle, then clink your shot with hers before you both tip your heads back to pour the liquor down your throats. It tastes inexplicably like turquoise, and you laugh loudly over the thumping dance music in approval.

The poor freshman charged with staffing the drinks table eyes the pair of you skeptically. “Maybe you two should slow down, you seem like you’ve had enough—”

You round on him, offense written across your face. He’s definitely right, but you aren’t exactly gonna let some pimply, snot-nosed teen tell you how to drink. “Woah, Nelly, this ain’t cocktail hour, this is fuckin’ Greek row an’ I won’t have your judgment,” you waggle a finger in his general direction for emphasis, “harsh my vibe.”

“You tell ‘em, girlfriend,” Hange approves vaguely, hanging off your shoulder.

The freshman holds his hands up in defeat, amused. “No judgment.”

You nod once.

“C’mon, Han, let’s see if we can find the snacks.”

“Pleeeeeeease…”

You turn away from the drinks table to do just that, angling towards where you remember the kitchen to be — honestly, this frat is huge — and set off through the crowd. Hange trails after you, fingers tangled with yours like they have been all night, yammering on about something you can’t be bothered to follow.

“‘Scuse us, comin’ through, on a mission!” You push past jostling bodies until you reach the far wall and lean against it for the last leg of your epic journey to the fluorescent lights of the kitchen.

Someone calls your name and you look up through squinted eyes to see Sasha leaned up against the counter by the fridge, bowl of chips in her arms and dab pen tucked behind her ear. She’s dressed casually, sweatpants and DIY cropped t-shirt contrasting your jeans and flashy top.

“Sasha! My love! My dearest, sweetest darling!” You stretch your arms wide towards her, Hange jolting forward where you’re connected. “We come in search of snacks.”

Sasha laughs and lazily deposits her bowl on the counter, stepping forward to stabilize you both with a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve come to the right place, my friends.”

She steers you both to sit at the island, wedging you between the only other two people in the kitchen. You vaguely recognize them as soccer players on the university team: a shaggy-haired brunette and a tall blonde. Sasha passes you her dab pen before ambling over to the pantry. You take a hit, then pass it to Hange, who’s looking much better now that she’s sitting down.

“Sash, these your friends?” the blonde asks, peering down at you through red-rimmed hazel eyes. You pluck the pen out of Hange’s limp grasp and offer it to him in greeting, along with a drunk smile. He takes it and grins back.

“Yep,” Sasha confirms with half her body still stuck into the pantry. “It’s the mad scientist one and the architect.”

“Almost architect,” you correct. “Not official until I have my degree! Although, I will agree, Han’s a mad scientist.” You poke her in the side and she swats you away with an eye roll.

“Oh,” the brunette soccer player pipes up from Hange’s other side, now looking at you curiously as well. He’s also high, startling green eyes hooded and posture relaxed. “So you’re Braun’s ex.”

You hide your shudder of distaste by turning back to take a drag off the pen. “Please don’t tell me that’s all I’m known for,” you sigh out with a cloud of smoke.

“Eren, don’t be an ass.” Sasha finally returns with a box of chocolate pretzels and a bag of hot Cheetos. “Pick your poison, hot stuff,” she offers each in turn. You ponder for a second, then reach for the Cheetos. “That’s Eren—” she points to the brunette, who raises a lazy hand “—and that’s Jean—” the blonde reaches for the pretzels. Sasha makes an offended noise and cradles them to her chest.

You introduce both yourself and Hange while Sasha plays defense against Jean’s long reach.

“Sorry,” Eren apologizes to you, leaning over Hange to grab some Cheetos. “I heard what he did to you. Really shitty.” His tone is casual, but the way he’s practically pinning you in place with his eyes makes you twitch.

“Puh-lease,” Hange pulls out the word, long and sarcastic. “‘Twas more than shitty, what that douche did. I’d’ve wrung him out to dry, but she didn’t—”

You cut her off with a sharp poke to her side. “Drop it, Han, I don’t wanna think about it.”

“But— ooh!” She’s sufficiently distracted when you shove your food in front of her face.

“Sorry,” Eren apologizes again.

“S’okay,” you sigh and take another drag, then hold the pen out to him in a peace offering. He smiles slowly and takes it.

“You guys staying over? There’s plenty of room in the basement, and friends of Sasha’s are always welcome.” It’s Jean who offers, returning to his seat beside you with a singular pretzel for his trouble.

“Hmm, might be nice,” Hange muses, but you’re already shaking your head.

“Thank you, but my roommate’d probably have a conniption if I wasn’t home in the morning.”

Hange actually snorts at this, then starts coughing violently because of the hot Cheeto dust suddenly up her nose. You pat her back in mild concern.

“What, they got a stick up their ass or something?” Eren asks.

“Or something. Levi’s just protective.”

“Levi?” Eren’s eyes are suddenly wide, almost fearful. “Levi Ackerman?”

“Yeah.” Your tone edges on defensive. “Why?”

He takes a hit and shrugs before answering. “He’s just my foster sister’s cousin. Interesting family.”

“Oh, you mean Mikasa?” You didn’t know exactly how they were related, but she’d helped Levi move in and it had struck you how eerily similar they were in disposition.

“Yeah, Mikasa. She’s around here somewhere…” As though by magic, he turns to look over his shoulder just as Mikasa and another blonde boy you don’t recognize mosey in from the hallway. She’s leaning down to catch his soft words and he’s talking with his hands, stalling as his eyes light on the little group in the kitchen.

“Oh, hey guys,” he greets.

“Armiiiin,” Eren greets with a genuine smile. “Come meet some new friends.”

The pair rounds the kitchen island, Armin allowing Eren to pull him in by the arm and Mikasa going to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Sasha.

“I know you,” Hange pipes up, tilting her head to observe Armin. “You’re in the sophomore biochem class I TA for. Arlert, right?”

Armin ducks his head in a nod. “Yep. Professor LaBelle is a wonder, I had a great time this semester.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Hange’s grin is almost slipping to the dangerous side of intrigued. “I graded your final paper, by the way, and just between us, you set the grade curve.”

He blushes red but his eyes shine with something akin to satisfaction. “Really? That’s a relief, it was a bear to write.”

Eren leans back behind Hange to gesture to you, looking across the kitchen at his foster sister. “Mikasa, this is—”

“—Levi’s roommate,” they say at the same time.

“I know.” Her dark eyes regard you interestedly. “Hi, again,” she greets, saying your name even though she’s maybe heard it once in her life.

“Hi!” You give a small wave.

“What, uh, what,” Jean clears his throat and you look up at him to catch a blush staining across his cheeks and nose. He’s looking at Mikasa. “What’re you guys up to in the basement?”

“We were just going to start a movie, Connie’s setting up the projector,” Mikasa says, eyes flicking from you to Eren. “Wanted to see if you guys wanted to join.”

Jean stands suddenly, his stool rocking from the force of it. “Y-yeah, we’ll join!” Sasha hides a snicker behind her hand.

Eren stands, too, between Armin and Hange, who are still chatting. He looks down at you and says your name like a question. “You coming?”

You find yourself shaking your head again. “I’m so crossed, I think if I even look at a couch I’ll fall asleep. And I, uh,” you yawn, slipping your phone out of a back pocket to check the time. 12:11 AM. “I should be getting home.”

It’s earlier than when you would normally call it quits, but suddenly all you can think about is going home and falling into Levi’s clean, soft-smelling sheets. Plus, it’s the Saturday preceding finals week and tonight was only meant to blow off steam between intense days of studying.

“You stayin’?” You bump Hange with your shoulder, and she looks around at you with wide eyes as though she forgot you were there.

“Hmm?”

“You stayin’ for the movie?”

“We’re watching It: Chapter Two,” Armin supplies, eyes crinkled in excitement.

Hange’s eyes grow impossibly wider behind her glasses and she grabs your elbow a little too hard. “You wouldn’t mind, right? I’ve been meaning to watch it.”

You smile and shake your head. “Wouldn’t mind at all. You stay, I’ll call an Uber.”

The whole group starts migrating in the lazy way drunk and high people do: Mikasa helps Sasha with the snacks; Eren and Jean grab canned drinks from the fridge; Armin and Hange gravitate towards the door, talking fast with words you’ve never heard before. You stay sitting at the island, tapping away at your phone to order a car.

When you stand to find the front door, your high hits you from behind like a fuckin’ baseball bat and you sway dangerously. You whistle through your teeth, low and soft, planting a hand on the counter. Sasha looks over at you in concern, her arms full.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I just… what is in that dab pen?”

She laughs, head tilting back. “Good shit, right? Got that one new last week.”

“For real…” you trail off, getting your bearings.

“Here,” Mikasa starts, piling even more food into Sasha’s arms, “I’ll walk you out. Levi would skin me if he knew I didn’t make sure your driver’s not an ax murderer.”

Normally, you’d protest, but the room really is starting to spin.

“Okay,” you sigh and allow her to hook your arm through hers. She’s surprisingly solid, and you find yourself leaning heavily into her. “How’re you still sober?”

“I don’t drink or smoke,” she answers, gently pushing past Armin standing in the doorway. “Doesn’t affect me, anyway, so it’d just be a waste of money.”

“Huh,” you grunt, then twist to wave to the group. “Night, everyone.”

A replying chorus of “goodnight” chases you and Mikasa through the dark foyer littered with drunken party-goers.

“Oh, wait,” she pauses with a hand on the doorknob. “Did you bring a jacket?”

“Oh,” you wrinkle your nose and think back to getting ready in the afternoon. It had been unseasonably warm and your coat didn’t match your outfit. “No, I didn’t bring one.”

Mikasa gives you an odd look and deposits you by the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Your body feels light as you lean back, tucking your hands into your armpits so they don’t float away. Your eye catches on movement in the dark shadows by the staircase and you squint, trying to see who’s there. It takes a second, but you eventually make out a pair of people, well… making out. They’re completely absorbed in each other, bodies impossibly close and you giggle quietly to yourself before your stomach rolls. No, don’t think about… too late.

You shut your eyes tight and turn away from the couple to lean sideways against the wall. The image is too similar, too gut-punchingly familiar.

“Didn’t mean what? Didn’t mean to stick your tongue down my best friend’s throat? Didn’t mean to practically fuck your best friend’s girlfriend in public?”

The biting words and stuttered apologies are still rolling around in your head when Mikasa comes back, thick puffer coat in hand. She hands it to you and you mutter a subdued “thanks,” twitching to dislodge the dull pain that’s settled in your ribs.

“It’s Eren’s, but he won’t mind. He doesn’t wear this one a lot, and you can just give it back next time we see you.”

“Right,” you nod, head moving a little too easily as you slip your arms in and fumble with the zipper. The faux fur around the hood tickles your face as Mikasa flips it up over your head. She’s clearly experienced in the art of taking care of intoxicated people.

Outside, you’re grateful you bundled up because the temperature has dropped significantly since the afternoon. Chilly December wind bites at your face and you bury your hands in coat pockets to save them from the same fate. Your fingers brush against something cold and metallic, and before you know it you’re pulling out a fistful of crumby objects: a super plus tampon, the packaging split down the side; two “for her pleasure” condoms; and, inexplicably, a Hot Wheels matchbox car. An ugly snort escapes your nose and Mikasa looks over at you in alarm. You raise up your fist and she chuckles through her nose as well. Squinting in the dim light of a flickering streetlamp, you find the expiration date on the condoms to be several months ago, so you lean over to a convenient trash can and toss both them and the tampon. The matchbox car returns to the pocket. Who knows, maybe Eren’ll miss it if it’s gone.

Mikasa doesn’t look affected by the cold, only winding her red scarf more securely around her neck as you both quietly wait on the sidewalk for your Uber. A quick glance at the app tells you that it’s three minutes away.

“Are you and Levi close?” You find yourself asking into the night sounds of Greek Row on a Saturday night.

You almost think she doesn’t hear you over the sound of a group spilling out of a neighboring sorority, but then she answers.

“Not particularly. We didn’t grow up together and only connected because of Uncle Kenny a couple years ago.” Her tone is light and casual as she talks about her family, as though you should know who Uncle Kenny is. Should I know who Uncle Kenny is?

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“We may not be close,” she starts again, eyeing you closely, “but I think we’re very similar. And I can tell he cares a lot about you.”

“Oh. Right.” Your palms are suddenly sweaty in your pockets.

“He may not show it,” her tone is careful, “But he does.”

You smile faintly and kick your boot against the curb. “He does show it, in his own way. He’s been really good to me.” Somehow, it’s easy to talk about this to Mikasa, even when you get all stuttery and weird having an identical conversation with Hange. Maybe it’s the drugs and alcohol, or maybe it’s because there’s not a hint of judgment in Mikasa’s eyes. Either way, it feels good to speak your feelings into the world.

“Good.” She nods and follows your gaze to where you’re still scuffing the curb. “Some unsolicited advice for you: if you ever want anything besides mutual pining to come out of it, you need to be really obvious. Or make the first move outright.”

This makes you stutter and wring your hands, she just puts it so bluntly. “R-right, the first move…. Oh, I think that’s my car.”

“What’s the license plate number we’re looking for?”

You read it out from the app while Mikasa steps to the back of the blue sedan that just pulled up. She nods, confirming it’s the same, then circles to the driver’s side window, which is cracked open.

“Hi,” you greet the driver, a blonde woman in her late twenties, and confirm her name matches the one in the app before sliding into the back seat. Mikasa leans down to murmur something to her and she nods, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror.

“G’night, Mikasa,” you call out the window. “Thanks for everything. And tell Eren thanks for the jacket.”

She waves as the car pulls away. You settle into the quiet hum of the car and let your mind wander.

Mutual pining. Make the first move outright….

—

“Mikasa texted me,” Levi says by way of greeting as you stumble out of the car and thank your driver. He’s leaning on a lamp post outside your apartment building when your Uber pulls up, jacket and boots pulled on over flannel pajamas.

“Levi, stand ominously on the sidewalk often?” you ask, dragging out his name long and sing-song.

“Only for you, kid.” He loops an arm around your waist and steers you towards the entryway

“Not a kid,” you grumble, masking the stutter of your heart at his usual pet name for you. Somewhere in the last couple of weeks, it’s gained a weightier significance, at least to you. It’s endearing and a little distancing and charged all at once and it makes your head spin as you climb the stairs up to your floor.

At your door, Levi unlocks it while you drift slowly in a circle next to him, trying to expend the sudden nervous energy you’ve gained in his presence.

The first move, first move, first move… Mutual pining. Mutual.

“What are you muttering about?”

You hadn’t realized you were thinking out loud.

“Nothing,” you say quickly and pass through the door he’s holding open for you. Your momentum carries you farther than you mean to go, and he catches you by the elbow, reeling you back to the coat rack by the door.

“Whose jacket is that?” He shrugs off his own and eyes the faux fur around your face skeptically.

You fumble with the zipper for a second before he sighs and reaches for it himself, stepping into your space. His face is so close to yours you can feel his breath ghosting over your collarbone as he unzips the jacket.

“Eren’s,” you finally answer. “Look.” You pull the matchbox car out of its pocket and show it to Levi with a wide grin. He stares at it for a second, then the tiniest smile twitches onto his lips.

“He’s a weird kid.” It’s almost fond, with an undertone of exasperation.

“You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s in the art department, too. Graphic design major, marketing minor. I TAed his freshman seminar last year.” Levi slips the coat off your shoulders as he speaks, then hangs it by the loop next to his.

“Ah, that makes sense,” you muse, wandering farther into the apartment. “He looked terrified when I mentioned you. What’d you do to those poor freshmen?”

“Nothing they didn’t deserve.”

“...ominous,” you hiss, your eyes wide as you let him gently push you into your room. The nervous energy hasn’t quite been expended, and you find your hands wringing with it. Suddenly, you’re rambling about your night as he sits you down on your bed among the laundry that’s taken residence there in its disuse. The stupid song they played at the first frat; Sasha’s excellent food; the blue mystery shot.

“It tasted like turquoise, I swear, Levi! It was like magic!” Your eyes are wide, insistent as you lean forward into his space.

“How does something taste like turquoise?” He ducks his head to avoid your face, fingers untying the knotted laces of your boots.

“You’re the artist, you tell me.”

“I don’t eat my paint.”

“Not even once? Not gonna lie, your paint looks very tasty, sometimes…”

“Are you always this annoying when you’re high?” He tugs the second boot off your foot as you let yourself fall back onto your bed.

“Come on, you love me,” you crow to the ceiling. Mutual pining.

Levi mutters something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Where do you keep your pajamas?” He stands and looks around your room.

“Middle drawer, left side,” you direct, lazily motioning to your dresser with an arm. Your eyes flutter shut as you listen to Levi pick his way across the floor and slide the drawer open.

Normally, you can get yourself in bed after a night out just fine. Normally, you slip into the apartment making as little noise as possible, and fall into bed without Levi even waking up. But it feels nice to have his steady hands on you when it feels like your organs might start floating apart at any second. It’s anchoring and reassuring and you can feel the safety of being near him lulling you into a doze.

Come on, you love me.

You shoot up to sitting, mind whirling and chest tight. “L-Levi?”

“What.”

“D-do…” Do you love me? “Do you think I’m pretty?” It feels petty in your mouth and you immediately regret the words, but it would be worse to try and take them back, so you just bite your lip and look down at the floor.

A hand plops onto the top of your head. Levi’s gray eyes meet yours, soft with something you can’t describe, when he tilts your head up. He’s quiet for a moment, then reaches his other hand to thumb your bottom lip out from between your teeth.

“I think you’re very pretty.”

(read part 5 here)

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ohh-baekhyun · 5 years ago

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Sugar | 02 - [M]

summary: Getting into a performing arts college isn’t cheap. In desperate need of money, you sign yourself up on an online dating site called Sugar. There, you match with a wealthy and handsome man named Mr Byun.

genre: Softdom!baek, sugardaddy!au, collegeprofessor!au.

[m]: Parking lot sex.

a/n: Merry christmas everyone. here’s a small gift for you, thank you for reading my stories all these times :D i hope you like this!

TWO - Mr Savage

One week later, the movers came by in the morning to pack and shift your things to the new apartment. The new place was sumptuous, as you expected, and you were still trying to wrap your head around this sudden change in your life. You didn’t know if you were doing the right thing, but you knew you needed the money urgently. You had just received your acceptance letter from the college you applied to, along with an invoice for your first semester’s fee. There’s nothing you wanted more than getting into this college.

Hanlim Conservatorie was one of the most prestigious, elite and expensive performing art colleges in the nation. Their acceptance rate was among the lowest. Getting into this school was like a dream and you had worked your ass off to pass the entrance audition. Now all you needed was to pay for the tuition fee. Only Mr Byun could help you with it, and he already did. Last night, you received a ten thousand dollars cheque from him as a ‘signing bonus’ for agreeing to be his sub. You had cashed the cheque and made payment to the school administrative, now you were just waiting for college to start in a few weeks.

In the afternoon, Mr Byun dropped by to check up on you. While he was there, he found out you only had cup ramen stocked in the kitchen, that’s how you ended up in the grocery store with him now.

You’d never been to a grocery store like this before. You glanced around in awe, wondering if this was where rich people shopped. The environment was cozy with a faint sound of classical music in the background paired with soft chatterings. The lighting was warm and you liked that it wasn’t so crowded. Most of the things sold here were either organic or gluten free, though there are some things you’ve seen in a regular store before, but they were marked at a higher price.

You and Baekhyun were strolling side by side through the aisles. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans today, and with you wearing the same colored top tucked in your denim skirt, you two looked almost like a couple. You studied the way he shopped, noting that unlike you, Baekhyun didn’t go for the cheapest item on the shelves but the highest quality.

“Do you do your own shopping too?” you asked, staring up at him as he reached up to pull out a carton of strawberry milk from the shelves.

“I have someone does it for me,” he muttered absentmindedly as he read the label on the carton. He finally dunked the item into the shopping cart and continued walking.

After getting a few things from the deli section, he moved to the condiments aisle. You looked up at him and found him glancing from left to right, searching for something. “What are you looking for, Baekhyun?” you asked.

“Mixed herbs,” he muttered distantly, his eyes searching. You tug at his sleeve to get his attention. He dropped his gaze to you. “Hmm?”

“I think I saw it somewhere just now,” you told him. “Can I go get it for you?” you asked. He permitted with a hum and you wandered off to find the item he was looking for.

After searching for a minute or two, you found an array of herbs bottle in the canned goods section. You craned forward and squinted your eyes at the items on the shelves. There were so many similar looking items.

“Are you looking for something, pretty?”

Your eyes drifted to where the voice was coming from. A male around Mr Byun’s age was already standing by your side, a grin tugged at the side of his lips.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Actually, you didn’t need his help, but being someone who was afraid to say no to people, you nodded. Anyway, this stranger was kind enough to offer help, you didn’t want to offend him. “Yeah, I’m looking for mixed herbs,” you told him.

The stranger glanced up at the shelves, searching for it. It looked like he had found something when he shifted himself closer to you with one raised hand to reach for the item. You shifted aside when you felt the brush of his arm over yours, but he scooted closer again. Suddenly, his free hand was resting on your lower back causing your whole body to stiffen up. You were uncomfortable but you didn’t have the guts to push him away. What if it was just a friendly gesture, you didn’t want to wrongly accused someone who has helped you.

“Here.” The guy handed you the herbs bottle.

You gulped, taking the item from his grasp. “T-thank you,” you say in a slightly shaky voice.

His eyes were currently scanning your body in a way that made you stomach felt nauseous. He looked back at your face with lazy eyes. “Are you here alone, babe?” He asked, sliding his hand from your lower back down to your ass. Your heart hammered with fear. The lump in your throat was muting you. He caressed your butt cheek and inched his face closer. “Who are you here with?”

“She’s with me, Jaebum, get your hands off her.”

The strangers groaned and dropped his hand immediately. Recognizing the owner of that voice, you wasted no time to turn around. The menacing look on Mr Byun’s face scared you, but it didn’t stop your from rushing over to him to seek his protection. As soon as you reached his side, he held your hand and guided you to stand behind him. Half of your view was blocked by his broad back, but you could still see what’s before you.

Mr Byun knew this guy, and it was easy to tell they didn’t like each other.

“Your new play thing?” The stranger asked casually, shoving his hands into his pants’ pockets. Mr Byun didn’t answer to that. The guy smiled scornfully. “What happened to the last one? Got bored?”

“It’s none of your business,” Mr Byun answered coldly. He clenched his palm around your hand and tugged you with him.

“See you around, Byun,” the stranger said when you moved past him. “One more thing,” he said and Mr Byun halted, although he didn’t turn around to look at him. “Let me know when you got bored of this one, I’ll have her.”

“I don’t want you.” The words stumbled out of your mouth before you even knew it. You gasped quietly when you realize.

Mr Byun huffed mockingly. “You heard her, Jaebum.” he muttered, then he walked away.

Now that it was just you and him, you became so aware of the anger radiating off of him. He walked you back to the condiments aisle where you left him earlier, the shopping cart was parked by the shelves. He finally let go of your and and move to stand before you.

You had to lift your head to look at him because he was a head taller than you. It was obvious he looked pissed.

“Did you know he was touching you?”

His voice was low, but your heart still jumped at his hard tone. He furrowed his brows as he waited for your answer. You bobbed your head timidly.

His frown deepened. “You knew? And you didn’t say a goddamn thing to stop him?” His tone was slightly raised this time. You couldn’t help but to cower under his domineering stare. “This is a public place. You could’ve shouted for help and someone would’ve heard you,” he went on, “What if I wasn’t here? You’d just let him molest you?”

“I–“ you parted your lips to say something, when nothing came out your pressed it close again. You sighed, dropping your head instead of replying.

Mr Byun gripped your chin, lifted it up to pin you under his hard stare. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering.

“What are you sorry for?” he frowned.

“I don’t know…for being groped?” You said in a small, unsure tone.

“No, that’s not–“ he sighed in frustration. “Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault he groped you. He was a jerk.”

Your forehead creased. You were confused. If it wasn’t your fault, why was he mad at you then?

Mr Byun finally let go of your chin with a grunt. You cast your eyes down regretfully. He stared at you for a short moment before sighing and shaking his head. “If something similar happens again, I hope you’d at least try to defend yourself and speak up when you’re uncomfortable,” He chastised and though his voice was softer, the disappointment was obvious. “Do you understand me?” He said firmly.

Once he received your yes, he walked away. Your shoulders dropped in dismay. It’s only been a week and you were already making Mr Byun unhappy. He was definitely changing his mind after today, and you couldn’t help the sadness washing over you at the thought. With the sadness, came fear. How are you going to pay him back? You’d cleared the check and used the money.

Mr Byun cleared his throat loudly enough to snap you out of your daze. You glanced at him, who was already standing at a distance from you. He gave a curt nod to beckoned you over. You immediately broke out of your trance and dashed over to him like a puppy to its owner.

When you fell into step next to the shopping cart, Mr Byun grabbed your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Stay by my side,” he murmured, peering down at you.

There wasn’t any warmth in his demeanour but your pulse still quickened at the way he looked at you. You swallowed and nodded in compliance.

Both of you were presently strolling down the frozen food section. It felt like you were walking on eggshells. You stood by and watched Mr Byun grabbed two packs of frozen blueberries and dunk it in the cart. None of you muttered a word to each other. You couldn’t stop stealing glances at him to check on him. There was a cold distance in his expression, he was definitely in a sour mood after what happened.

You couldn’t help but to blame yourself, even if there was a chance that his bad mood was caused by Jaebum, not you. You have always been an overly sensitive child growing up, especially to other’s feelings and emotions. Sometimes, just a subtle change in someone’s expression made you anxious, and you’d start questioning if you’d done something wrong. Like now.

For the umpteenth time, you stole a glance at the man next to you, except this time he caught you in the act. His brows pulled together into a tight frown, almost a glare. “What?” He bit out. His tone startled you, and you unconsciously made a pout with your lips. He gave you a long, assessing stare. At last, he sighed and softened his voice, “Is there anything you want?”

Tentatively, you took a step towards him and clutched on the fabric of his shirt. He peered down at you in confusion. You gave him your pleading eyes. “I want you to stop being mad,” you begged softly. “I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

Thick silence stretched between the two of you. The knit between his eyebrows was slowly disappearing, and the coldness in his eyes morphed into something heated. You can feel his breathing slowed. He looked like he was turned on. By what though? Did he like it when you begged?

“Please, Mr Byun…” you tried again.

“So help me God,” he whispered harshly under his breath. “I’m going to welt your ass for being so cute.”

Your lips parted in a surprise. You certainly didn’t expect him to say that.

Mr Byun groaned when he noticed the blush rising on your cheek. He tore his gaze from you and stared at the fridge behind you. He reached a hand over your shoulder to open it. You felt a cold breeze puffing against your back. “Do you want ice-cream?” He asked, dropping his gaze to you again.

His unpredictability surprised you. One moment he was telling you he wanted to spank you, and the next moment he was offering to buy you ice-cream.

“Sweetheart?”

You shook your head lightly to pull yourself out of your reverie, then you glanced up. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

He gave a soft smile. “I was never mad at you.”

“At who then?”

“You know who.”

Jaebum, you thought. And the relief made you smile.

“Ice-cream?” Mr Byun asked again. You gave him a nod and a sweeter smile. He lifted his gaze to examine the content of the fridge. “Which flavor?”

You swiveled around to face the fridge, running your gaze through the stacks of ice-cream tubs. “That one,” you gestured. “Strawberry shortcake.”

Mr Byun dropped his gaze to you, the side of his lip curled up. You blink cluelessly, not understanding the look he gave you. He let out a deep chuckle. “What a baby,” he teased endearingly.

You cocked your head to the side, puzzled. “What baby?”

“My baby,” he said, giving your heart a little jump.

You blushed harder. You knew Baekhyun didn’t mean his word in a i love you baby kind of way, but more in a i’m your sugar daddy, and you’re my baby girl kind of way, but it was heart fluttering all the same.

Once Baekhyun withdrew the ice-cream tub from the fridge, he held your arm to pull you back so he could close the door. He leaned over to set the tub above a pile of goods in the cart. It was then you realised that he had bought a lot, and they were all for you. For someone who used to go for days without food, you were beyond grateful. You didn’t have to worry about going to sleep hungry and having to endure the stomach pain it caused you anymore.

Mr Byun was going to push the cart when you held his wrist to stop him. He turned his head to your side and that’s when you tiptoed to cup his face and kissed him. Being with him, even if it has only been a week, you learned that he really loved kisses. He hadn’t done anything besides kissed you actually. And since you couldn’t offer him anything in return for his kindness, you thought giving him a kiss would at least made him happy. But to your dismay, he didn’t return it.

Slowly, you pulled back and lowered your heels to the ground. Baekhyun had an unreadable look on his face. You honestly couldn’t tell what he was feeling, you just knew you felt stupid for doing what you did. You dropped your head, embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

The journey towards the checkout counter was filled with silence. Baekhyun parked the shopping cart by the conveyor belt and started unloading the things. You flashed the cashier a smile when she greeted you before helping Baekhyun out. Once the cart was empty, he pushed it out of the counter so he could stand next to you.

You didn’t know how long you stood there waiting. It felt like forever. The lady was slow. She actually reminded you of that sloth from zootopia. You glanced at Baekhyun. He was watching the lady scanned the items while tapping his fingertips rapidly on the counter. There’s a tight knit in between his brows. It was obvious he was losing his patience, but he fought to hold it back. Somehow that brought a grin to your face and you couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping.

Baekhyun looked over at you with a frown, and you wiped the grin off your face before he could see it.

“Your total would be—“ Both of you returned your attention to the cashier. “Wait—I’m sorry, give me a moment.” the lady had a frown on her face as she tapped her forefinger frantically on the cash register’s screen. You could hear Baekhyun’s deep inhalation and exhalation that made you press your lips together. His frustration was adorable, and you were on the verge of laughing.

You slide your palm up his arm and squeezed his bicep to get him to look at you. You offered him a warm smile, hoping it would calm him down. But his feature only tighten up under your touch. You pursed your lips in dissapointment and peeled your hand away.

It’s a good thing the lady was finally done. “Your total would be two hundred and sixteen dollar.”

Your jaw dropped when you heard the amount. You’d never spent so much at a grocery store before.

Mr Byun pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and silently handed three one hundred dollar notes to the lady. Once his hands were free, he immediately held your wrist and gathered the plastic carriers in the other. He started dragging you away from the counter.

“Mr Byun, you forgot your change,” You reminded him, and just after you said it you heard the lady shouted from a distance.

“Sir, your change!”

“She can keep it,” he muttered gruffly without giving you a glance.

You started to calculate the balance in your head. He just gave away eighty four dollar for free. You gasped. “But that’s a lot of money,” you told him.

He whipped his head around and gave you a stern look that shut you up completely.

You remained quiet as you walked down the travelator that led you to the basement where the parking lot was. He let go of your hand to hold the door open, nodding in cue for you to walk out first. You dropped your gaze to his fully occupied hand and noted the veins bulging on his skin.

“Let me help you.” you reached a hand down but he retracted before you could grasp anything.

“I can handle it, sweetie, go on,” he bobbed his head towards the opened door. You wordlessly followed the order and walked out into the dark basement.

You were a few steps ahead of him when you turned around to see if he was behind, “Where are we going after–” You next word turn to gasp when your leg stumbled upon something on the floor. His hand flew out to grip your arm and he tugged you towards him. You sighed in relief and steadied your stance. “Thank you,” you whispered, staring up at him.

Baekhyun slid his hand down your arm to thread his fingers through yours, holding it tight. “Watch your steps, will you?” he reprimanded. You bobbed your head with a hum.

You stood close to him as he led you towards his car. “Are we heading home now?” You asked, glancing up at him.

He kept his gaze ahead. “Not before we finish what you started.”

Instant nervousness washed over you. “Wha-what did I do?”

Mr Byun didn’t answer to that. Another silence fell, except it wasn’t quiet because you could hear the million thoughts running through your head as you wondered what he was going to do next. You’ve never been so hyper aware of your bodily reactions toward someone. Your skin was thrumming, your heart was racing and your stomach was twisting with nervous butterflies. When his sleek Audi came into sight, instead of unlocking the door, he dragged you toward the trunk at the back. He released your hand, and you stood by his side, waiting for him obediently. Everything happened so fast as he unlocked the trunk, threw the carriers inside, and slammed it close.

The sound made your shoulders jumped. Your heart was hammering so hard it was actually painful. “Baekhyun?” you called softly, feeling confused but something about this situation thrilled you at the same time.

Mr Byun sucked in a sharp breath at the soft sound of your word. He turned to give you a stare, only two seconds, and then he was pulling you to him. His hands slid up to cup your face. You squeezed your eyes close as soon as he lowered his head. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, and you were expecting him to kiss you right now but he didn’t.

Only a second passed but it felt like forever. Very slowly, you peeled your eyes opened and found his dark eyes gazing down at you. You swallowed thickly, and that’s when he slammed his mouth against yours. You immediately made a fist around his shirt to hold on. Having kissed by him a few times, you knew how knee-weakening it was. You also knew how drugging his kisses were, that they managed to leave you high and breathless every single time.

Mr Byun has always been rough, but today he wasn’t just rough, he was a savage. You whimpered at the sting of his bite on your lower lip. He swept his tongue over the red flesh first, then shove it into your wet cavern. He groaned, and the sound resonated all through you body. For a while, he let his skillful tongue wrestled with yours before he pulled away completely.

You had a glimpse of his face only second before he turned your body around. A soft yelp tumbled out of your mouth when he pushed you forward and bend you over the trunk of his Audi. With this position, you could only think of one thing he might do. Spanked you.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling the cold metal on your cheek. “A-are you going to punish me here?”

“I’m not punishing you, sweetheart,” he shoved your skirt up so it bunched around your waist. “I’m just going to fuck you.”

His words made your insides clenched. You parted your mouth to speak, only to gasp when he yanked your underwear down in one rough move. The cold air hits your cheeks, and there wasn’t any time to feel embarrassed about it because his fingers were already entering your cunt. You bring your hand to cover your lips when a moan slipped.

Mr Byun didn’t wait to start thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “So fucking wet,” he rasped.

Blood rushed to your cheek when you heard the sound of your wetness. “I–I don’t know why–“

“Oh, I think you do, baby,” he sneered, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. “you acted all innocent and shy in front of daddy.” he scoffed. “but inside you’re just a dirty little princess waiting to be fucked.”

You’d never had anyone talked to you like that before, God, was it sick of you to be turned on by it?

You had to bite your thumb through a moan when Baekhyun curled his fingers inside you, the tip hitting you on your prime spot. Your walls immediately clenched and unclenched around his digits.

You mewled when Mr Byun withdrew his fingers completely. His hand was no longer on you. Just as you were about to protest, you heard him unbuckling his belt behind you. Following that was the sound of his zipper tearing through the silence. You brought your head back. Your pulse spiked up in an instant at the sight of his slender fingers wrapping around his hard, veiny cock. You lifted your gaze. Mr Byun had his lips caught in between his teeth as he gave his manhood a few pumps.

The fierce look on his face thrilled you, but your heart dropped when you heard the echoes of footsteps from a distance. You knew it wasn’t easy to spot you here since Mr Byun’s Audi was blocking the sight. But what if the owner of the car next to you returned. “Mr Byun, what if someone caught us?” you whispered frantically.

“Isn’t it too late to be asking that question, princess?” He taunted. “This is what you get for teasing daddy in public.”

He was talking about the kiss at the grocery store earlier. You had no words to argue with him. Scrape that. You didn’t want to argue at all. You wanted this too, as much as he did.

“You’re lucky public sex is an offence,” Mr Byun said hoarsely as he insinuated himself in between your legs. “I was so close to fucking you in front of everyone in that shop.”

Your breathing hitched when you felt the tip of his cock grazing over your wet folds. He gripped the curve of your waist to hold you down. The next thing you felt was a sharp stretching pain as he shoved his length all the way into you.

“B-baekhyun…” your back arched as you let out the lewdest sound you’ve ever made, your pussy was fully stretched and filled with Mr Byun’s cock.

“Princess, you’re so–” Mr Byun dragged his length out of your hole, then he pushed it in again with a rough grunt. “Argh! so tight.”

“...Yeah, I got everything on the lists. I’m heading home now. Is there anything else you want? Okay. See you.”

Your body froze at the sound of a man’s voice. You knew this person had to be somewhere nearby because his voice sounded clear in your ears. Impulsively, you pushed yourself up, only to hiss when Mr Byun pressed his palm on the small of your back, holding you down so you couldn’t move.

He leaned over to place his mouth next to your ear, his cock still buried inside you. “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, his breathing tickled your ears.

You tried to regulate your heavy breathing over your racing heart. Through the windshield, you saw a man walking towards the car on the opposite side of the parking space. When he shifted his stance so he was facing Mr Byun’s car, you swore your heart dropped all the way to the pit of your stomach. You were unconsciously holding your breath, praying he wouldn’t see you. To your relief, the stranger turned away and climbed into his vehicle. The engine started and soon the car was out of your sight.

A relieved sigh fell from your mouth, but before you could fully relax, Mr Byun has started ramming his cock into your pussy, causing you to cry out in shock and pleasure. You slapped your hand over your lips to muffle your voice as he continued pounding into you at an insane speed.

Mr Byun let out a deep growl when your walls clamped tightly around his length. You could barely kept your eyes open. He was getting more and more rough that you could feel the Audi shaking underneath you. Your muffled moan sounded so loud even through your concealed mouth. Your breathing grew heavier the closer he drove you to your release. He was close too. His cock was already swelling inside you.

He reached down to slip his hand in between your legs. You purred when he brushed his thumb over your clit, and cried out in bliss when he started rubbing your but rapidly. “Baekhyun, I–I’m close.”

“Come for me, princess,” he ordered gruffly.

At his cue, your release came washing over you like a tidal wave. You had a black out for a second. Your pussy was spasming so intensely around Mr Byun’s cock, but that didn’t stop him from pistoning his thick length into you. You whined, almost crying from overstimulation everytime the tip of his cock hits your g-spot.

Two to three thrusts later, Mr Byun finally came with a long throaty moan. His body shook as he unloaded his cum inside you. You felt his warm liquid leaking from your pussy, trickling down your inner thigh. He was breathing heavily behind you and so were you.

Once you regained your composure, you tried to straighten your stance but winced when your legs gave out on you. You knew he was going to leave you sore for days. A tired breath left your body. Mr Byun had just fucked you against his Audi in a parking lot and made you come harder than you’d ever came. He was a savage, indeed.

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ephemerlskies · 4 years ago

Text

in the stars tonight | pjm

⇢ pairing: jimin x reader

[other members - seokjin, taehyung, namjoon]

⇢ genre: series, ANGST, enemies to lovers au, actor!jimin, actor!oc, (eventual) fluff if you squint

⇢ word count: 8.4

⇢ genre: Landing a role that might launch your entire career as an actor had come with the most unpredictable and daunting circumstances: grappling with the tragic loss of your boyfriend, Namjoon, and co-starring in a film with the vexing yet enchanting (and famous), Park Jimin.

⇢ warnings: explicit language, themes of grief/loss, themes of depression, (many) mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence (please stay safe!!), themes of alcoholism, themes of escapism, mentions of alcohol, mentions of marijuana, unhealthy coping mechanisms, lots of internal dialogue with one deceased boyfriend, arguing/bickering, seokjin being seokjin, eventual love triangle (ish) feud

♪ playlist: dynamite - bts, move! - niki, saint nobody - jessie reyez, through the night - iu, ilomilo - billie eilish, the truth untold - bts, slow dancing in the dark - joji ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: i, and i cannot emphasize this enough, can't believe this came out of me.... it was just a lil idea in my head, but then it expanded into this entire story that was way too long to fit into a one shot. so, here's me serving up a hot plate of enemies to lovers with a generous side of angst and longing!!! i hope y'all enjoy (and hate) arrogant jimin as much as i did hehe <3 ps i have no idea how long i want this series to be i'm lowkey winging it

The world does not slow down for anything. Not for catastrophes or miracles or even something as devastatingly common as death.

When your boyfriend of three years, Namjoon, lost his life due to another's drunken mistake, you realized this. The world revolves on a scheduled orbit, and not even your tragedy wedged a wrench big enough to halt life just a moment. Just to let you breathe and grieve without feeling left behind. However, you were left behind, both by the world and him.

Every sun and moon, every skipped meal, every unfulfilled rain-check, every isolated Saturday night, and every cancelled audition that came as quickly as they left paid tribute to this merciless phenomenon. It seemed you now existed just to watch the days pass, just to balefully relive the moments before Namjoon's passing. And that seemed to have been the only way you could have survived. To make a recluse of yourself because if the world was careless enough to let someone as amazing as him go, then what held it back from spilling even more wreckage into your life? For the past six months, you stuck to the cold, dead past. It was all you had to hold onto; letting go meant plummeting into a depth far too unknown and inescapable.

You and Namjoon were steadfast. You were still steadfast, or more appropriately, stuck now that you had no one to be loyal to anymore.

You and him were one of those couples other people saw and wished they could replicate into their own lives, but when it came down to it, rooted for your happy ending with him. The type similar to that of highschool sweethearts who beat the odds, or the type whose encounter fell along the silver lines of fate. Something beautiful that automatically made all the love poems authenticated by you and him. And when he held you, the idea of worry or evil seemed like concepts that did not exist past fictional tales. So warm, so loving, now gone.

The way in which you and Namjoon grew over the three years you were able to love him was in a convergent manner.

Your branches and vines were woven into his, and his into yours. Even your roots, the elements of your past, began to entangle beneath the soil. To root between each other meant there had been a foundation from which you grew, a stability that was once neat. There was no boundary of which would discern your life from his. And at one, more favorable, point in time, your life did belong to him. Namjoon was someone you only knew for a mere fraction of your life, however the moment he wandered into it, you had unlearned how to continue without him.

You didn't think you would have to relearn.

But then one decision forced you to do so. One person, who decided paying fifteen bucks for an Uber was not a wise enough investment, ripped out the plant of his body from your shared soil by means of inebriated judgment and a missed red light. You had no choice but to absorb the cruel sustenance of the sun completely alone. Most of your branches of life were left barren, with torn twigs where your body once borne fruit and leaves and beauty. But the roots were where most of the pain inhabited. A stubborn, sharp ache resided in your chest, deep enough that you might have had to be cut open and searched through to find the source.

It had been six months of 'Sorry for your loss' and 'Gone too soon' and your personal least favorite 'He's in a better place now'. It made you angry, because was there a place better for him that didn't have you in it? How could anyone know what was better for him when they didn't experience something as tender and gentle and loving as your relationship?

But none of the sympathetic smiles or half-hearted condolences made you quite as angry as the monster who was too selfish to call someone to drive them and consequently punctuating the eternity you were meant to spend with Namjoon. You always followed the virtue that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Forgiveness was a sweeter release than anything else, but if you could, you would take that drunk driver's life in a heartbeat. You would have gauged out your own eyes if the chance fell into your reach.

Though, no matter how hard you screamed at the universe for hurting you, despite the countless pleas to somehow retrospectively tell Namjoon not to go out for something as trivial as toothpaste so he might be alive today, holding your hand in this waiting room, telling you that you're going to do great, you knew the world wouldn't stop for you or your sorrow.

It revolves, waits for no one, and you had to pace yourself to jump back into the turning carousel of life.

"___. We're ready for you!" His voice was ten notches above a volume that wouldn't irritate you. The only hint you let slip that his tone made you want to throw this script at his crotch was the muted sigh.

You knew this audition was going to play out like the rest. They would ask you to read, stop you in the middle of your monologue, then say something like 'Thank you for your time, we'll get back to you soon' which was show business code for 'We are not giving you the role'. The only reason you were here was because you had been out of work for too long, the piles of overdue bills on your kitchen table a cruel reminder of that. Plus, you knew Namjoon would have told you to go.

He would have said something like, 'Get your lazy ass out of bed and go to that audition! You don't want Hollywood to miss out on a star just because you want to sleep in fifteen more minutes'. And it would have worked. It always had. Now, the only motivation that came to your aid was the echo of his voice, and even that had begun its slow descent into forget. Other than that, guidance of your own volition was as fleeting and disarrayed as a violent wind.

"Hi, my name is ___, and I will be auditioning for the lead. Jordan." Your hand must have been fielding its way through a nervous tick. The person you assumed was the director was eyeing the way it had been contorting at your side, and you hated showing that you were nervous.

"Perfect! We've already casted the other lead role. This audition will mostly be based on whether we think you'll have good chemistry with him." Him. So your possible running mate was a man. Before a list of names engraved on rows of stars cemented into the Hollywood walk of fame ran through your head, you lifted the script and collected all the air your lungs would allow.

Maybe, you thought, my courage and passion might come with it.

And when you opened your mouth, something magical that you credited to talent claimed sovereignty over your body. Now, you were Jordan. Jordan didn't have a dead boyfriend, now ex boyfriend, or luggage enough grief to sink a depression into the crust of the Earth. Jordan was a kind, low-energy, and sentimental artist coming into an age of overwhelming success and fortune —and love.

That's what alluded you in acting. For a moment, you could escape your life, leave your pain on the back burner while you emerged into someone who was unacquainted with the pain of losing the love of your life. It was akin to a drug, administering an intoxicating fill of temporary serotonin. Instant relief, and if you got this job you would have your fix of this twisted sort of high that tempered the Namjoon-sized void in your life. And Jordan's life definitely seemed to have, quite literally, all the things yours lacked.

"Wow, ___, was it? That was absolutely incredible!" The hand-covered whisper that followed this appraisal gave you time to begrudgingly peel of the Jordan mask. Within a half second, all the pain seemed to compound into your body. If you hadn't already shaped your entire life around that weight, you would have fallen over. Though you had done this, and even worse, you had been shouldering it for so long, you would have felt naked without such a burden. "Okay, well, we have a few more auditions but I think we have our Jordan! We'll send your manager the full script along with the schedule for the first week of shooting in about two weeks."

"Uh-" If you had not said something quick, the opportunity might have slipped away all too fast, the way Namjoon had. You vowed to grab hold of anything remotely good that arose into your life, giving you more than late nights of choked sobs and transfixed gazes out of half-curtained windows. This offer was clutched tightly in your fist. "Oh... Th- thank you! Thank you! Fuck, thank you so much. This means so much to me, thank you!"

Before you proliferated the meaning of the words thank you and the director's smile turned into rolled eyes, you stumbled your way out of the door. Waiting on the other side was a world that might strike against you with partially docile cruelty. The wind pressed against your skin, almost blowing away all your grief with the help of this successful audition.

That feeling, as always, was as comforting as it was fleeting. Because the scars of your past would not have budged for any brash current. Because your next thought disrupted the scant flourish of joy. It was the thing that came easier and sooner to you than eating and blinking; telling Namjoon any news of both good and bad ranks, sharing your life to celebrate or stress over. One of the many things that remained by an undissolvable adhesive along your mind. You tried to soak it away with liquor or smoke it out with weed, but there was no breaking of habits you loved almost as much as Namjoon.

I did it, Joon. I landed my first role. You thought, because that was the closest you could have gotten to relaying the news.

Your heart began to physically hurt. Heartaches were literal in your case. Literal and grim. You felt the grip of loss pierce its sharp thorns into your flesh. It had nearly been as painful as all the times your words were met to deceased ears, speaking to someone that had not belonged to you anymore. Six months had passed and pain cannot tell time in the way people can. So, you knew the marathon of your grief was one that followed its own metaphorical clock. You just had to keep running in hopes you could make it out alive.

Though, being Jordan for the next six months would help momentarily satiate your grief. If there were a remote for your emotions, this role would be the mute button. Your pain would still move as it usually would, but now it would be silent. You wouldn't have to listen to its unforgiving taunts and crippling obscenities. It was only just that you were paid reparations for six months of utter misery with six more months of narcotic, soundless distractions.

Two Weeks Later

If the universe had given you one good thing, it was skill and dedication to your craft. The script was memorized in just short of four days, and even a sizable amount of lines of the other characters had been stacked atop your memory. Doing an acceptable job at this role wasn't something that was worried you. In fact, the idea of wearing another's life on your body and on your heart was something you looked forward to.

It was a bit difficult to convince yourself how good this natural born gift was when the universe took something that felt a thousand times more crucial to your existence. Acting, or anything else that planted joy in you, was a consolation prize for merely participating in life. Namjoon was the reward you were meant to win in the end.

And you had no idea what the hell to do when the prize becomes in all of the sense of the word unattainable.

You hadn't driven in six months, despite the run-down Honda parked in front of your street, desperate to be given some sort of purpose. It was too much. Ever since the accident, the idea of manning a wheel that could take away more than it could ever offer was a responsibility you felt entirely too daunted to assume. Even though seat hogs, missed busses, and overcrowded walkways had been inconveniences of an indescribable level, it wasn't enough to put your body into the same vehicle that derailed your life.

Luckily, the bus stop was only three blocks away from the studio. It gave you plenty of time to get into character, however it also nestled in a span of time for Namjoon's voice to filter in and out through running your lines.

He talked to you a lot. As much as it made you want to cry, you held onto it, feeling as though it might be the last of his voice you'd be able to recall. If Namjoon's internal commentary were to suddenly disperse, you might forget his voice entirely. And you wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but you would always answer back. Sometimes out loud, and sometimes, when company forced you into sanity, you responded mentally. It kept you separate from life and any form of interaction with actual people, but it felt better than living in a world without him. Additionally, it helped keep his voice alive, which when you thought about it, was such sick irony. His voice, alive, his heart and mine and soul, dead.

And that was the only downside to acting. When there was another mind you had to engage in, Namjoon couldn't have broken the barrier and his voice wouldn't even register as an echo. Perhaps that was why you waited so long to dive back into your job. It felt synonymous with betrayal to do anything that would sever your connection already hanging by a single, fragile thread.

"___? Hello?" You were immune to every condescending gesture or vernacular weaponized in Hollywood by now. Your makeup artist's snaps fell into the base of annoyance you had grown used to. "Did you hear me? You're all ready."

Her voice wasn't too abrasive. If anything, you should be the one apologizing for dazing in and out of consciousness. Though, Namjoon's sweet compliments about how beautiful you looked with your stage makeup should have been the one to acquire this remorse.

"Sorry. I'm, uh, tired. Not used to waking up at six in the morning quite yet."

"Well, get used to it, or you'll have a rough few months ahead of you." Her laugh had shed whatever shell of pretentiousness once veiled her previous impression. "I'm Nayeon, by the way. I've heard many great things about you, ___. Let's hope you live up to the hype."

Nayeon's nudge was friendly, and it comforted you that within the first day you hadn't pissed off the person who could easily turn your face clown-like with a few heavy strokes of her brush. She was beautiful, too. If she hadn't been dressed in a black T-shirt strewn with foundation and powder stains, then you would have mistaken her for an actress.

"Let's hope so... I guess the director was selling me better than myself." Your eyes scanned the area, though no one seemed a fitting candidate to be your lead. "So, who's the other lead?"

"Park Jimin. I'm surprised they didn't tell you yet. I guess it's some obscure, artistic director decision to keep you in the dark. I’m lowkey fangirling right now… But, don't tell anyone that." Before you could respond, let alone react, Nayeon had collected all the products she needed for her next subject and was about a yard away from you. "Good luck, rookie!"

Park Jimin. You've definitely heard of him, but it surprised you that someone like him accepted a role in a romantic, indie, coming of age film that had not the budget to pay half of what he usually made in his repertoire of previous movies. He was certainly what one would consider an 'A-list' celebrity. The type paparazzi actually cared to stalk, and fans recognized in public, but were too shy to approach due to his sheer intimidation. It hadn't eased your nerves that he was notoriously withdrawn when it came to the behind the scenes portion of shooting a movie.

And, like any decent person, you did your very best to refrain from placing judgments without the opportunity for them to fill in their own narrative. Most of what you ‘knew’ of Jimin had been hearsay. However, you had some hunch Jimin wouldn't qualify as one who labored tirelessly for the roles he had landed or authenticated any sort of compassion with his rising fame.

See, acting and snagging a big role in a movie was characterized as a tall building for you. If one reached the top floor, then they would assume a wealth of opportunities and Oscar nominations and acclimation. Of course, this film industrial structure had various modes of climbing to the top. Some had stairs which called for more excretion and effort but still, all you needed were persistent legs, then each step would eventually get you where you wanted to be.

You had more of a ladder. Each wrung was slanted at an angle of which only deepened your brawl with success and had not been sanded down enough to save you from a generous supply of splinters. After a while, your hands began to ache and the fear that some high-society type would kick the base of your ladder always stalked the forefront of your worries. It certainly had not been a choice means of arrival to whatever awaited you on that top floor, however it was the only one available.

And while you had a ladder to overcome, Jimin had an elevator. The most he'd ever expend to reach that coveted floor was a few presses of a button. And perhaps his only sacrifice would be sharing the elevator with one or two others. Things just worked out for people like him. And an elevator’s delivery was always in a manner that was quicker than the likes of a staircase or a ladder.

When he arrived on set, dragging himself like his own body was a weight he shouldn't have to carry himself, you fought that instinct of yours to assume everything you needed to know from him.

Just because he's wearing sunglasses inside doesn't mean he's some arrogant asshole, even if that is the most cliché character trait of one. This internal lecture was certainly of Namjoon's doing, since he was always one to never run out of allotting the benefit of the doubt.

Yeah, I guess. But, come on, he looks like a fucking idiot. You replied as if he were really there before walking up to the callous man with your gauntlet thrown down by default. No need getting on Jimin's bad side, because you were sure it's complement was being blacklisted from the film industry. Instead of sharp edges you offered him a non-threatening smile and handshake.

Play nice. Namjoon reminded you before you had the chance to decide what you wanted to say.

"Hi! It's such an honor to be working with you. I'm ___." Jimin looked at your hand like you had filled it with mud and were intending on smearing his Gucci jacket, which you assumed was worth more than your monthly apartment rent. "Um, wanna touch base before we start shooting or..."

If his admonished glare at your hand wasn't encouragement enough to retract it back into yourself, then what he said, or more fittingly, what he didn't say next was.

The way his sigh infused a scoff within it made you feel small. It felt like fire, how thoroughly it burned you into a pile of ash, but then it felt like a gust of prickled wind that would scatter your remains completely. If it had not been for the way his head shifted from your head to your toe, you wouldn't have known that his shielded eyes were trailing the length of your body. Such a glare seemed like a calculation of your worth; it must have totaled out to that of a fly he had to swat away because the second you stood on the outside of his peripheries you stopped existing in his world altogether.

His back made a longer impression on you than his eyes, and that was your que to huddle yourself in the corner and stick to the two things you were best at.

Imaginary conversations with Namjoon and rerunning through your already memorized lines.

Before you say anything, I already think he's a prick. It might be pathetic to have instigated theoretical conversations with your dead boyfriend, but the world wouldn't know he would have scolded you first for already constructing an agenda to avoid Park Jimin whenever you could. You just felt an itch to lay down the first word.

You never know, maybe he had a bad day.

Yeah, well people like him don't need to be professional unlike the rest of us. I mean, I'm on the verge of openly conversing with you and I'm the one that has to turn the other cheek? Your script was decorated with a number of wrinkles. Proof that your anger was sleeping from your insides in the form of tightly gripped hands that were pretending to pinch Jimin's skin instead of the script. For once, you felt some grain-sized semblance of luck for having a grasp of acting to pull off pretending to love Jimin.

"Hey." You weren't quite thrilled to meet the person you had imagined pushing down a staircase standing over you. Without his glasses, it was difficult to remember why you had been so angry with him and you hated that. His eyes consisted of more than just irises and pupils, though you would not have been able to place what exactly accompanied these features. They were just eyes, after all, parts of a body. Functional. Mechanical facets of being. And yet, his seemed more than that. More than just sense mechanics. Perhaps beauty.

But for him to have been beautiful, it would have tainted the very idea of beauty.

"We're about to start shooting. Don't make this difficult, I'm trying to leave on time."

"Okay... Sure." Those were the two words you substituted for the 'fuck you' itching to crawl from your throat.

"I'm Jimin, but you know that already." The way he spoke was punctuated as though it was a waste of his time to spend any attention on you. If you weren't already drained of your strength from that tube of toothpaste that was some sort of paraphernalia of the night Namjoon became an article of your past, then you would have rolled your eyes or retorted with something that would knock him down a peg.

"I do." Your own weak will bothered you more than Jimin. "Um, I-"

"Let's not." Though he had no idea what you were about to say, a part of you agreed to not even indulge in small talk with him. It would be too forced and uncomfortable and that might leak into your performance on camera. Still, he had an abrasive way of going about it that made you want to disagree with him just to be able to lie contrary to him.

"Fine." It rolled off your tongue easily, like silk. His lingering eyes had you wondering if you somehow impressed him with your passive agreement or insulted him for not groveling for his approval. Either one would have satisfied you.

"Alright! Looks like you two got acquainted. We're jumping right in." The director, Kim Seokjin, was chirpy. Even if this project wasn't necessarily mainstream or highly anticipated, he was the type to salvage all his passion and pour it into anything he created. It comforted you knowing someone other than you found this to be somewhat life changing. "Please, Jimin, ___, on your marks. This is the scene where you two meet, so we're hoping you two can infuse that feeling of being slightly awkward but nevertheless enthralled in each other's presence. Got it?"

"Yessir." You said, and Jimin only produced a nod which seemed generous for him. Fighting the urge to snarl or squeeze your brows together came as a difficulty you had to practice at.

"Slate! Quiet on set..." Seokjin’s voice filled the empty space of the entire studio.

"Scene one, take one." Just as the snap of the slate reverberated through the room, your eyes changed just as abruptly. Your gaze upon the set transformed it into your reality. You looked at Jimin and now saw Laurie, a young soul filled with enough dreams and kindness one could have mistaken him for a cloud; the kind that spoke in loving whispers and gentle caresses. He reminded you a lot of someone else you knew.

You tucked Namjoon's voice away with the rest of your grief and became Jordan.

Amazing things seemed to happen when you least expected them too. You guessed that was the nature of amazing things, for if you expected them then they probably wouldn’t feel so amazing. About halfway through the scene, after a number of cuts, re-shoots, directorial notes, you noticed something. Or more so, this something willed you to notice.

Once you fell into stride with your character, it became easier to pick up on the person acting opposite of you. Maybe you hadn't given Jimin enough credit before. You knew maybe was an understatement, though you felt a sting admitting talent had fallen into his hands just as all his accomplishments had.

Jimin's acting rested on the side most polar to your own. You replicated, he revolutionized. You became your character, shrinking yourself enough so that one wouldn't have been able to tell who you were beyond who you were playing. Jimin, however, made the character his own. There was no minimizing his own body to fit into the mold of the character. Jimin was the mold, and he sculpted the character to fit along himself. He forged his movements, voice, and confidence into whichever role he played and brought life to someone strewn with a signature of his own soul polishing said character. All the while, he was inventive with each intention and emotion that were strung into his lines.

It was difficult to pull this off, being that you could easily begin to just play yourself in a movie and neglect any character mannerisms that you were supposed to portray, however Jimin seems to slip in and out of his role with ease. And with each take, he peppered in more dimensions to a character. He gave meaning and depth to a person constructed onto a paper script until you couldn't believe this person didn't exist in real life.

That was the amazing thing that kept your well-rehearsed lines behind an impermeable wall of reluctant admiration.

What hadn't helped, though seemed to have been timed to a tee to unwind your sensibility, and timing had always worked against you like you had done wrong to it, was the part when Laurie was written to sneak his hand along your waist after Jordan stepped backwards into his body.

His palm felt so warm. So warm that the entire world felt too cold for you to be anywhere but apart from his touch. Then, all your lines spilled from your recollection. He was standing close behind you, the plush of his cheek tickling your ear and sending the entire world away so you and he could reserve this moment just for yourselves.

"Your line." His whisper wouldn't be picked up by the mic, though it had no trouble debilitating the rest of your senses. Did he intend for it to blur any sort of attraction his character felt for you into the life beyond the camera?

The director called cut to the scene, and it felt like a lifetime before you were released from the entrapping heat of Jimin's body. When you spun around, hoping you could at least dig through your throat to pull out a deflated apology, the smirk laced along his lips illustrated every bit of his arrogance and once again shut you up.

From the way his eyebrow was arched, you assumed he must have read your mind. He knew what he did to you, and it reminded you of everything you disliked about Jimin. Presumptuous, prideful in his taunts. It also reminded you that he stood many floors above you in this architectural competition of acting. You were grabbing hold of each wrung as you went, unprepared for something as disarming as Jimin. All he had to do was peer down at the sight of you to make you feel a hundred times lower than him.

“___? What’s wrong?” You looked over to find Seokjin’s half worried, half irritated expression.

“No, nothing. Sorry, I just blanked for a second.” Jimin’s snide chuckle at your confession to a faulty performance didn’t help simmer the burn of embarrassment.

"It’s okay, I get it.” The director offered a smile as a peace offering, and since he looked not seven years older than you, it had you assuming he was the laid-back type. “Let's take five. We'll block a few of the scenes and finish the rest of this and we'll call it a day."

You made your nest over at the snack bar. Shoving half of a donut into your mouth had almost resurged your energy. Nayeon made a swift return to pat your face with more powder.

"Hey, you're pretty damn good." You were stuck with a mouthful of donut to null any chance of responding. "Except for when you kinda just shut down at that last scene."

You would have felt embarrassed, or rather more embarrassed than you currently did, if it weren't for the light laugh that followed. All you had to reply with was a shrug.

"I mean, I don't blame you. Jimin's pretty hot and if I were cozying up to him during a scene I'm sure I would also fuck up my lines." Nayeon finished applying whatever touch ups she felt necessary, not without a suggestive eye arch. This either meant she was going to shuffle over to another actor in need of visual repair or she would stay and talk. Her continued monologue advocating for Jimin's talents and good looks proved the latter was what you had in store. "I mean, damn. Also, I'm pretty sure he's got abs under that shirt. So, are you into him? Is that it?”

"It's not like that." The harsh delivery gave an impression contrary to what you said. "I mean, I just... He's just really good at this. I guess I got kinda intimidated."

Normally, you would have sought Namjoon's voice ringing in your head about how you could do this, reminding you how he believed in you. It would have gotten you through the scene however, Jordan didn't know Joon.

"Well, he won an Oscar for a reason, babe." You finished the rest of your donut and begun a prowl for another savory comfort food. "I mean, damn, twenty-five and already winning Oscars and getting nominations. It ain't for nothing."

"Yes, this is helping so much, thank you." You twisted in sarcasm as if that would make you seem any less intimidated. Again, Nayeon laughed off any shroud of roughness coating your words.

"What, do you want me to lie? Is that how you want to start this friendship, with lies?" Her elbow nudged you, and that alone communicated more than the brief exchanges you two shared. Now, you had a friend. Someone else to talk with that wasn't a figment of your own imagination.

Look at you, already making friends. Your smile was not as hidden as you attempted for it to be. Namjoon's little encouragements had that effect on you.

"What's that smile for?"

"Oh, nothing." You scarfed down the mini muffin, turning towards Nayeon. "Just happy my makeup artist goes easy on the blush."

She winked, and you felt ready to be sent back into the throes of this film. You weren't keen on Jimin feeling closer to a competitor than a partner in this project, however if that is how he wanted it to be, you were never one to submit so easily. You were determined to level this playing field, and your communion with victory felt like a well-deserved birthright.

"Thought I told you I wanted to go home on time, rookie." You watched his lips shape such venomous words, since his eyes, the unnamed, nearly beautiful presence, might have sunk you back into that state of speechlessness.

"I take it you're not a method actor, since Laurie is so sweet and you're a fucking ass." It felt good for all of one second before a series of reprimands fueled by none other than Namjoon now had you on the brink of apologizing.

"Feisty, huh?" Again, his lips eased out sharp words as if they would not nick the plump skin as it went.

You hoped Joon had nothing to say about how you were now tracing the lush of Jimin's lips. And yes, it had been six months, though you knew your love-ridden heart had yet to free its hands from grabbing hold of Namjoon, still, the feeling of attraction, no matter how brisk it might have been, felt like you were committing adultery. Adultery, over someone who was dead. You weren't the one who left him behind, and at the same time, you never got that shiny patent of closure. There was no break-up, so perhaps that was an explanation as to why your heart was foolishly stuck in love, never realizing its oath to loyalty was graced upon the deceased.

You thought of love now, while you were supposed to be getting into character. You thought of the one thing you once had held worn so easily, and now you had been chasing it knowing your legs weren’t enough to catch up.

There was a well in your eyes, supplied by the same source which fossilized a ragged lump in your throat. And you must have blinked twice as many times as you normally would since Jimin's eyebrows met halfway between his forehead as he watched you. Or, more disappointingly, he might have noticed your tendency to grow red in more places than just the whites of your eyes when you were about to cry. Holding those tears in hadn't helped with keeping your skin less flushed.

It frustrated you that he might have noticed, which only twisted you tighter into the verge of crying. You knew it was unlikely that his watchfulness of your pre-breakdown expression was due to a lapse of genuine concern. For all you knew, he was subtracting even more value from your worth, plummeting you into negative integers.

And if you weren't so dedicated to your craft, then you wouldn't have the ardor nor the ability to pull off acting like you loved him.

Nayeon is a good makeup artist, I think you have a thick enough cover of foundation and powder to hide it. That of course, along with any sliver of light in this dark tunnel, had always been attributed to Namjoon. He was the reason you kept going, the reason you had been able to get out of bed to drink a glass of water once in a while, the reason you did not completely break down every time a tube of toothpaste fell into your line of vision. Him and the memorialized voice was what chipped the lump free from your throat and dried your tears before they had the chance to spill.

"What-" Whatever motivated Jimin to ask you something had been gone almost immediately after it sprouted.

"Quiet on set!" There was no way you'd figure out what he was going to say if the director had mandated pre-shooting silence.

The rest of your day went accordingly. Nothing too devastating happened that cleared away the momentum of excitement of this being your first big role. Though, not that you weren't beyond grateful for this chance, you made a chore of reminding yourself to be aware of your good fortune.

And, with the help of a few well-placed improvisations that made you seem somewhat of a visionary in your craft, your previous mistake had been washed with water under the bridge in the director's eyes. It escalated your ego and confidence to watch Jimin scavenge for an unpracticed reaction to go along with the slight details or lines you infused into the scene. At a certain point, you could almost describe him as impressed with your acting. Maybe enough to bump your worth up a few decimals, not that that should be occupying your worries.

"Wow, ___! Look's like we hired the right thespian. Great work! By the looks of it, things will flow easier from here." The director, who you finally felt on a first name basis with, approached with a hug. Though, usually this would have sent red alerts, you could tell Seokjin had no ill intentions of the predatory type. "Also, you two have chemistry, but it's not quite there yet. I want this to be believable. There has to be some real life element of camaraderie if this story is going to be genuine."

"So, what exactly are you asking of us?" Jimin, of course, sounded all but thrilled with whatever Seokjin was suggesting even when it hadn't been specified yet. And though you hadn't expressed it outwardly, this aversion for what Seokjin has been suggesting was shared.

"I don't know, get to know each other? Method acting works usually. I mean, Jared Leto did it for that movie and he seemed pretty crazy." The attention was never yours to claim once Jimin had already pressed his phone to his ear and Seokjin was off reevaluating the shots taken today.

You were alone again. Surrounded by an entire crew and cast, but alone nonetheless. Your version of escapism was never as consistent as you needed it to be. All it took was a moment of stillness for you to drift into some place much darker than your current reality. Jordan was sealed away for now, and you were trapped in your own body. It felt horrible. Being you without the man who loved and cared for such a kindred soul felt no different than writhing in pain. Being you without him was empty. Before long, you might have fallen faint in front of your coworkers.

The only target you could acquire as of now was Jimin, taken away from the world for reasons much less burdensome than your own. Where you had a plight of grief to sift through, Jimin had a phone and most likely a supply of friends to text and busy himself with. Seokjin wanted you to get to know him, try your hand at method acting so to speak, and that was the excuse which allowed you to walk over and try to kindle some sort of conversation.

"Hey, so, uh..." The pause came to no avail, since it seemed as though you could have said nothing at all judging from his reaction. "Hey."

It took a fictitious clearing of your throat and three more seconds of unwavering silence to lure his eyes from his phone.

"What?"

As it had been for this entire day, everything involving Jimin was made to be some sort of challenge. A feat you had to overcome without an ounce of reprieve, just to remain standing.

"Seokjin said we should, like, get to know each other. Or, at least get along. I think that's a good idea." His eyes gave absolutely no clues to anything below the exterior of an expressionless face.

"Why are you trying so hard?" You waited for him to laugh, or even for a laugh of your own to slip and loosen the tension. A laugh to make what he just said a joke, victimless banter, because it would have been wildly insulting if that were the most genuine thing he had said to you all day.

"What the hell does that mean?" Your arms were crossed as if that would keep your heart safe from his cruel tactlessness.

"I'm not taking this shit seriously." He laughed, but it wasn't the one that you wanted previously. It sunk wounds deeper, with such a dull edge too. "It's just a side job so people think I'm humble, or whatever my manager said."

The puzzle began to piece together, it took this admittance from Jimin for the picture to emerge from ambiguity. This movie was some form of damage control for his reputation, and that might be because your accurately placed criticisms of his lackluster humbleness did not stand solitarily. Your big break had been reduced to a convenient plot of image reconstruction. You were familiar with anger, it was one of your trickier stages of grief to surmount, but it still affected you to the same degree as before.

He didn't expect a response. You could gather that much from the way he instantly turned back to his phone, rendering you nonexistent once again. Namjoon would have told you to remain civil. But Namjoon was gone. It hurt to think that way, but if his voice hadn't emerged to mitigate this situation now, then Jimin was yours for the taking.

"You're a fucking ass." It seems brash was the only approach to seize immediate attention from Jimin. His eyes widened as if you had grown twice as large and the vision of you wouldn't fit in his narrowed, judgmental glare. "This may be a joke or a throw away gig for you, but this means a lot to me."

"Wanna back off, Jesus. I only-"

"No, I don't wanna back off. I haven't had the best year, and having a co-star that treats me like shit isn't really helping either. And, I get it, you're some sort of elitist who thinks they earned their success." You scoffed, tethering his eyes with yours as though there were a string tying them together. And with each step closer you took, the knot only secured tighter. "But people like you, men like you, don't do shit to earn where they are. But it's so cute the way you think you did! Truly, it's embarrassing watching you flaunt your ego around like you actually have something to be proud of."

"So it's like that, huh? You know, I was almost starting to respect you." The fact that his delivery suggested this was some sort of badge of honor made him all the more pathetic. You should not have put it past Jimin to boast over paying a fundamental level of respect where it's due.

"Wow," You doused a generous layer of sarcasm over your throat so the words came out so. "Basic human decency? From you? How can I ever repay you for such kindness?”

"I said almost."

"You're pathetic."

"Like you're one to talk."

"Yeah, well at least I don't pretend I'm hot shit." The tip of your shoes finally closed the gap between his. Again, you were snared in his warmth, however it didn't feel as tranquil as before. Now, it was closer to a pot of boiling water, evaporating flesh and bone until you were steam floating along the air, bendable and displayed out thinly.

"You don't pretend because you're just that bad of an actor, huh?"

It suffocated you, being this close with him; the blurry details of his face became sharp this way. His eyes were hypnotically watchful of your lips, preparing for your next gambit. You surrendered only a smirk, hoping it would antagonize him. And you could have sworn standing at the furthest point of the Earth from Jimin wouldn't appease this invasive thronging. The universe had yet to expand wide enough to provide an acceptable distance away from him. Until then, you were left with shallow bouts of breath tasting of metallic hatred, hoping those would alchemize into words that would make you seem more intimidating that you really were.

"Please, I could act circles around you. Your performance is transparent. Anyone with a scope of the basics of acting could see through you."

"Is that so?" You hated how quick you had been to notice his tongue slip along his lower lip. He must have found this delicious, patronizing someone who only had 'friend number five' or 'cashier' as proof of their employment. Jimin was greedy, devouring all the blood spilled from his wounding retorts.

In some perverse way, being the focus of his attention had you feeling fulfilled. Jimin, the man commonly sought after among the demographic of teenagers and middle-aged women. Not only were you proving your merits of qualification to act alongside him, but you had something to prove to yourself. You weren't going to let Jimin push you around without pushing him right back. You were strong enough to fight. It seemed to have come natural to you to enjoy provoking anger in him. It felt as if you were finally accomplishing something that was unattainable to anyone else.

And even if you wanted to retreat, his gaze guaranteed your obedience. It was a battle, along with every other exchange you have had with him. Even when silence was the only parcel between you two, when the only semblance of noise was heavy, jaded inhales, it felt as though you and he were at wits to gather more air than the other. To see who would fall breathless first.

"You're pathetic." His words hit like physical blows, and you might have had to check for bruises along your ribs and torso from the churning sensation in your stomach.

"If I'm pathetic, I don't know what that makes you." You wanted your rebuttal to feel like fire. You wanted to scorch and sear blisters along his flawless skin for proof of any successful hit. “A privileged boy with enough of daddy’s money to get him any job he wants. But, I’m the pathetic one?”

He appeared unscathed, with one end of his lips rugged upwards, mocking you without needing any of the words to do so. Perhaps he'd gotten the best of you, as you were searching through your arsenal of refutes only to find it overspent. It would not have surprised you to discover his supply of acidic insults piling without a visible dent.

His eyes looked fully employed in studying you, and you felt disrobed to be under such scrutiny from a stranger. Jimin seemed to have been reading you like words on a page, armed with a twisted smile that was unnervingly addictive, but you tried your hardest to keep your book closed. You didn’t want him to know how weak you really were.

"God, you're so-"

"Oh, great! Both of you are still here." Seokjin's voice reminded you that there was a world of events beyond you and Jimin. For a moment, you had felt secluded into a universe constructed especially for any collateral destruction that might have come of whatever war was about to be waged. "I have some notes for you two. Go home, read, digest, and come prepared tomorrow! I have full confidence in the two of you."

"Thanks." Succinct yet not lacking any tonal sentiment, Jimin got the first word in with the director, leaving you scrambling to find yours.

"Thank you." You were frustrated in how recycled your responses felt after Jimin handled them. Actors like you always fed on scraps of the higher-ups, and they were never as appetizing or filling as you would hope.

"See ya, ___." Your name sounded awful on his tongue, like his voice had filtered out the good parts of it and the waste remained spilling from his lips. Like dirt or decayed flesh, or both, and saying your name was akin to saying a slur.

"Fuck you." Those words couldn't sift through your screwed jaw or muffled throat, but it gave you satisfaction that it had been said in the slightest.

It wasn't until you were halfway to the bus stop that the realization pummeled you down a hole you hadn’t recollected being dredged. That whole time, what might have been the product of a mere ten minutes, was the longest segment you had gone without thinking of him.

It was the most intimately you had ever engaged in a conversation with someone other than the late, imagined voice in your head. And it was the most you've gone without consulting with said voice before speaking. You simply spoke, and listened, and responded; like you were normal. You couldn't tell whether that was good, because maybe you would finally be able to move forward with the world, perhaps catch up with the life you were supposed to be living. But, at the same time, the guilt festering something acrid in the pit of your stomach had you convinced this wasn't entirely sunny skies and bright futures.

"I'm sorry." What frightened you, besides your mental slip to keep the words meant for Namjoon in your head, was the unreturned sound of his ringing through. It took the longest ten seconds of your life for the mental silence to be furtively trimmed by your own train of thoughts.

Jimin had done this to you, that you were entirely sure of. Jimin and his carnivorous tongue and greedy glare had drained your head of its second conscious. The one it had adopted when Namjoon's body could no longer harbor it. And that's how he lived on, through you.

Jimin took that away, somehow. You could almost kill him for it, but you had not favored a life in prison nor tabloids that headlined the Park Jimin being murdered or 'Crazy, Jealous Co-star On Murderous Rampage Targets Jimin'. So, for the time being, all that was accessible was quiet hatred.

And you took that over nothing. You hated Park Jimin.

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astro-pioneer · 4 years ago

Text

Anyway thoughts about Dain and others. I'm gonna separate this into different parts since it's probably gonna get confusing. Might do a second part for certain parts of this.

So to get as accurate as possible I did search for more information about The Abyss and Khaenri'ah

OK so I'll give a little back story before diving into my thoughts: Khaenri'ah is an underground unreleased section where, in Dain's words, "the gods' gaze does not fall". It is the origin of Khemia, a type of alchemy heavily focused on the creation of life that ultimately destroyed it. Also, for the Sword Cemetery, that is a result of a war between Mondstadt and Khaenri'ah.

Khemia

Anyway thought time - so since Knaenri'ah has very little fauna and plants they have to find a way to survive and get food and whatnot - hence the creation of Khemia. Now, since there's no information on the aftermath of using Khemia on let's say a human, we're going to make assumptions.

So obviously altering with human life is bound to have it's backlashes, right? My three main bully victims are going to be Kaeya, Albedo, and Dain. Kaeya first: he was sent to Mondstadt as a last hope for his original homeland (I got too lazy to type it continuously) so I'm gonna assume that, before he was dropped off at Dawn Winery, he went through some alterations.

Kaeya

And you guys are gonna get mad but I'm gonna talk about his eye patch. Now, my assumption with the backlash is that it does something physical to the person undergoing Khemia. And yes, while Noelle does say she prepares Kaeya's eye patch, that doesn't necessarily mean that she puts it on him and has seen him without it.

Seeing as though Khemia isn't well-known by the common folk and is concerning to the gods (at least to Venti - thoughts on this later) it's best to hide any evidence of it when around people. That might be Kaeya's case with his eye patch, especially with the issue with Diluc and his father.

Albedo

Listen I hate myself for even starting this but I'm too far deep to give up so we gotta talk about his sexy ass. Now, his diamond. If that's a birthmark then holy hell that's one gorgeous mark. BUT I don't think it is. Since he's the one who practices Khemia, he probably knows how to manipulate the placement to be somewhere hidden or so small you can't see it.

Lmao that kinda contradicted my diamond topic but my thought behind that is that he got that from his teacher (I REFUSE to type that long ass name ok) before he knew the art himself. Him knowing the practice and Venti's wariness of it makes more sense now - will be explained soon.

Dain

THIS BITCH- Ok I need more content of him so I can understand him more but I hate him so muuuuuch. So since he admits that he saw Old Mondstadt before Dvalin resided in it, I immediately thought to the battle at Sword Cemetery even though it doesn't fit with the geography (be honest though nothing matches the geography since the "Wolf of the North" is in the wEST) and you can't see it even from atop the logs (before anyone says anything, yes, I did check with the tallest character I have and yes, I did blind myself at one in the morning just for that.)

Anyway we're getting off topic what I wanted to talk about is the galaxy thing right over his heart. This is going to be short since there's not a lot about him but it's very obvious that it's not natural (well duh) and it reminds me of the particles that erupt from Paimon and that appears out of Aether's hand for an idle animation (I, personally, chose Aether for the MC so I will be using him most of the the time). However, there's noy a lot on him and his attire so this is all I really have.

Venti and Khemia

So a little while ago someone found out that in front of Venti's statue in front of the cathedral it says "Gate to Celestia" backwards. And I do love the theories from many others about how the game might end right where it started, aka Mondstadt. Khaenri'ah dislikes the gods and is not under rule of the Seven and, with Kaeya as a "last hope" so to speak, I feel like (if he doesn't get too attached to everyone) Kaeya and possibly Albedo as well, is going to lead the hilichurls and possibly the Abyss to Mondstadt to open the gate to destroy Celestia.

This is probably why Venti is wary of anyone who knows Khemia or is a known member of Khaenri'ah. This is far fetched but what if he knows of a possible ending without the traveller that is Mondstadt and possibly Teyvat as a whole being destroyed? It's obvious that history and stories are told through songs and, as Venti said in the archon quest, he knows songs "from the past, present, and future."

The Abyss ft. Khaenri'ah & Dain (again)

This is probably going to be the biggest since there's a lot of parts to it. So it's been confirmed that the hilichurls, the people of Khaenri'ah, are being controlled by the Abyss. My thought process was that the Abyss was once a part of Khaenri'ah but there was so much Khemia practice on them that they became less and less human. On a similar note, Instagram user natrya_art made her own theory based off of the Abyss and the chambers just off of the opening screen itself (also one about Dain, Durin, and Alberich (Kaeya's last name) that's still on her story :D).

You guys are probably like "Astro where are you going with this" so I'll stop adding random information and get on with it. Dain specifically only mentions Lumine with "her" and "she" along with "is" and similar present tenses, meaning that she is still alive during whatever time he comes from (as he will decide fate himself if "Albedo were to make a single wrong move using Khemia" (possibly opening the gate) and that's the only time he'll interfere). It's obvious he knows Aether, as he's very easy to talk once he mentions being a traveller. Now, when have you ever heard anyone in genshin mention traveller that is not about Aether/Lumine? Exactly, barely ever if at all.

I mention this since Dain's interest isn't peaked when Aether introduces himself as an adventurer but only after he says he's a traveller looking for his sibling. I, personally, think that Dain was a travel buddy for Lumine since, branching off of Natrya's theory about the Abyss, she was probably brought to the Abyss when they were fighting on one of the paths in Celestia in the beginning.

Since Lumine is trying to redirect Aether from finding out anything about her plans, it shows that she does not want him to either catch her trying to destroy the world or get caught in the crossfire and die. In the time where Dain comes from, though, that's probably what happened and the Abyss wins in the end. So Dain, already knowing where Lumine and the Abyss went, brings Aether to every location that he can remember.

During the old timeline, let's call it that since it's obviously going to change with Aether having help from Dain and Friends™, Lumine most likely talked about Aether and what happened to them. Maybe Dain was just trying to see if he was the real Aether during the tavern scene? No one knows right now honestly (other than the voice actors and creators honestly but they can't say anything.)

It's also obvious that he knows how far Aether is on his journey, as he mentions the Contract to End All Contracts but not why it was made or what the Tsaritsa did with them all while knowing about Venti being Barbatos and the Stormterror battle. This could just be blamed on his failing memory but that's not the case, as he says that he doesn't lack time and will wait to talk about Rex Lapis. However, it's obvious he only knows one side of it, as Aether and the player know of Zhongli being a player in the Rite of Descension but Dain doesn't, as he questions his attitude towards it.

Prophecy

This is copied from Dain's profile on the genshin wiki: The confluence between the past and future. The original calamity had been overturned, yet the island in the sky set the earth to burn. Chalk pursues gold, in this time inopportune, the eclipse is swallowed by the crimson moon. The future must atone for bygone mistakes, as the bond familiar falters and breaks— of the same blood, elders and the youth... Such is the cycle of the world, in truth. Dain, what is that strand of blonde hair to you? Someone you must kill? Or the object of your penitence? - Self-proclaimed prophet

I changed the colour of the parts I want to talk about. The first line is obviously referring to Dain and his connection with going back in time to change the future he came from. "The island in the sky" is Celestia, and the line about setting earth alit could be talking about the gate opening or the gods thinking it'll be best to destroy earth to save themselves.

"Chalk pursues gold." THIS LINE. This one line is what I want to talk about a lot. Gold is not referring to the alchemist who destroyed Khaenri'ah, as it's not uppercased as all names should be. Instead, it's referring to Aether. (Note: the game is actually supposed to take place as you playing as Aether, which is why he's always in the trailers as the protagonist and is more expressive). Aether has multiple gold or gold coloured parts to him, including his hair, parts of his outfit, and it can even be argued that his eyes can be included too. Chalk is, obviously, Albedo, which connects to the quest about him where he's called the Chalk Prince when Dragonspine was introduced. Speaking of Dragonspine, Durin (the dragon that died there) actually came out of Khaenri'ah. Weird how Albedo is almost always in Dragonspine right? The pursuing part can go two ways: his ending line about how if he [Albedo] destroys Mondstadt, will Aether be there to stop him OR to make sure Aether is there to watch him destroy it. A third side is that Albedo pursues Lumine to help with her plan of Destroying Mindstadt/Teyvat.

Crimson moon is obviously about one of the trailers, where I think Lumine is seen walking on the path where her and Aether fought the god in Celestia with a red moon and sky in the background.

"Bond familiar falters and breaks - of the same blood, elders and youth" Aether and Lumine. I feel as though one of them (Aether most likely) will feel the most betrayed and he will lose all trust and love in Lumine and what's she's doing/done. Elders and youth is interesting. It can be nodding at the gods and the people of Teyvat or the gap between Lumine and how she's grown old while Aether died when he was young.

"That strand of blolde hair." English classes and teachers do not teach this enough!!! So I'll say it: blond, with no 'e' is masculine and is used to describe males. Blonde WITH an 'e' is feminine and for females. The use of blonde instead of blond eliminates Aether, Albedo, and Dain. The only blond we really encountered? Lumine. And I can already see the "well what if they didn't know the difference between e and no e" but we're talking about a game where a god dressed as a bard speaks in rhymes and riddles while Dain speaks like hes a poet. They know what they did. This might hint to him being the former travel companion of Lumine and any possible feelings he had that might get in the way of stopping him from helping everyone to stop her.

The Three Questions

When talking to Dain he asks three questions in order to see how similar your thought process is to Lumine. "Who do you think was the key to stopping the Stormterror incident" or something along the lines is the first question. Your answers are Barbatos, yourself, or the people. I will try to go off of memory with my answers, as his quest has yet to be added to the completed quests, as it's in chapter four which hasn't been released yet. I answered Barbatos for this question.

The next one is about Liyue and who will take care of it since Rex Lapis is no longer there to protect it. I said the people of the harbour, which was the third question. The last one is about Visions and who are more important in the eyes of the gods. The three answers are people with visions, without visions, or neither. I answered neither, giving me the dialogue of Aether's answers being similar to Lumine's.

Vision Question

The one about Visions struck me as odd. Visions are given by gods to people that they have acknowledged, yeah? Khaenri'ah isn't acknowledged by the gods and isn't run by any of the Seven. So that means that no one who resided in Khaenri'ah were never helped or were given visions. So why would Dain ask about them? I think it's due to Aether and most likely Lumine being able to weild the elements without a vision. There's also two certain dialogue options that are in the form of thoughts (I do not remember what quests they're from however) and the first one is like "(I'm getting back to my original strength)" I think it was in regards to getting geo too or something while the other one is "(I wish to get the powers of the gods)" or something.

When I first got them I paused for a second. Original strength and the powers of the gods... This obviously means the fact that with one touch of a statue we can switch to that element and can be "blessed" so to speak without actually being blessed. Also I've been meaning to talk about this ever since I leveled up Venti's statue but so far both Mondstadt and Liyue have an extra oculus. This is probably going to be for every region. I found that interesting, since you usually almost always interact with the statues with specific oculi, making it more powerful and giving you more stamina in the process. I think we have to use the extra one to fully harness the powers of that god in order to beat the final boss (probably Lumine.) They are also under the "Precious Items" tab in your inventory which is somewhat significant as well.

I'm gonna end this theory here for now since it got extremely long lmao. A part two might be coming though!

#ೄ sage #genshin thoughts #genshin theory #genshin impact theory #genshin impact thoughts #genshin #genshin impact

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starlightsearches · 5 years ago

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Kylo x reader. Kylo sewing reader for the first time and instantly realizing hes hooked, love at first sight. Tries to ignore it and realizes he can’t. Thanks!!

Escape

Hello lovely anons! Thank you for these wonderful requests, I have decided to combine them because they are so similar, and I hope you love it! This is actually an idea that I’ve played around with for a long time, and I’m so glad I finally got the opportunity to write it!

Requests are closed ✨

Kylo Ren X Fem! Reader

AN: Oh my hell this is a long one (like over 4k words). I’m not going to check—because I am incredibly lazy—but I think this is the longest request I’ve written. Warnings for major pining, angst, Hux being kind of an ass, and mentions of violence/possible minor character death!

If you asked those who profit most from the seedier desires of the galaxy, they would tell you that the Coruscant Ballet is the place to make a pretty coin. More credits have changed hands in the grand ballroom of the Coruscant Theatre than in any of the casinos on Canto Bight, and as such, the ballet is host to most of the galaxy’s elite. If you’re looking for someone to solve a problem—to make someone disappear, to find you something rare or strictly off-the-market, to eliminate your competition—you’ll find them at the ballet.

Ren knows this, but he still doesn’t understand why that means he has to be here. All he knows is that there’s a ticket with his name on it, a special invitation from someone the general had been doing business with, and that he was expected to attend. The general prattled on in the transport, rambling about security risks and shows of strength and rallying support. Ren wasn’t listening, not really. He has his own concerns, and they don’t always align with the general’s. Especially when it means that he’ll have to sit through three hours of some ridiculous performance when he could be doing something else. Literally anything else.

The foyer is packed with people—well-dressed and conceited, of course—and the volume in the room noticeably decreases when he and the general enter through the large and ornate doors, the silence immediately filled by violent whispers. They make a show of speaking quietly, but Ren knows exactly what they’re saying about him, what questions they snicker to each other when they get a sight of him. It could be much worse, all things considered; this is Ren's first public appearance of the kind, and—if he has any say in the matter—it will be the last. Part of him itches to give these people something real to talk about, some horrifying demonstration that they could recount later at their other ridiculous social gatherings. Maybe he'd suffocate someone, or launch a whole group of them through the windows.

He doesn't do any of it, of course. He just follows the general into the theatre. The show is about to start.

At least the seats are comfortable, Ren thinks, almost too plush, and they dim the lights as the show begins, throwing the audience into relative darkness. Maybe he could sleep without drawing attention to himself. He is feeling tired—always tired lately—and he rests heavily in his chair, letting his eyelids drift closed, ready to take advantage of this time as best he’s able. His vision blurs between half-closed eyes, and the music begins, soft and sweet and easily ignored.

Everything changes when you take to the stage. Seeing you emerge from behind the heavy curtains, it's like a lightning strike. His breath catches in his throat, he’s feeling wide awake—more than wide awake—buzzed, electric, starving. He’s never seen anything like you before. He doesn't know how to act.

The hours pass like minutes when you dance, and he’s on the edge of his seat for all of them, his eyes drawn to you and he’s helpless to resist, not that he would ever want to look anywhere else. Your movements speak to power and grace and the command you hold over your body impressive in the extreme, even to someone like him. Ren is both completely ignorant of the story and deeply invested in it; he feels everything you experience, the joy, the betrayal, the mourning. You seem to live it, lost in the tale you create as you move to the music, and when he watches you take your final bow, he’s hooked. He has to see you do that again.

The curtain closes, the light returns without warning and it breaks Ren out of his stupor. Still, he’s full of restless energy, nervous—like there’s some unseen threat, some important quest that he’s left uncompleted. The audience begins to file out much too slowly—and with the leisurely pace the wealthy always seem to take, like time is infinite and free to waste. Ren doesn't have the patience to wait, not when he feels like this.

“Stars, I hate the theatre,” General Hux mumbles under his breath as they stand by their seats, waiting for a break in the crowd, and it irks Ren, pushing him closer to the edge.

“Maybe you lack the culture needed to appreciate it,” he replies snidely, mostly to get a rise out of the general. Mostly. Regardless of his true intentions, the general is offended, and Ren allows himself a small smile over this little victory.

The audience trickles out of the theatre and after an eternity of waiting, Ren finally makes it into the spectacle that is the grand ballroom, but his eyes don’t rest on anything until he’s found you again.

He catches sight of you on the far end of the room with the other dancers, all out of your costumes from the performance and instead wearing dresses in varying pastel shades, looking more like confections or ornaments than trained professionals. The other girls, especially the younger ones, whisper and giggle nervously as they survey the crowd, but you do not participate, smiling good-naturedly but remaining still and silent. When he catches sight of you, the negative feelings inside collapse. He’s free again. He’s not sure how you’ve managed to hold that kind of power over him, but he doesn’t care about that now.

“That woman, with the dancers-” Hux interrupts Ren’s thoughts, gesturing in the direction Ren is already looking, not that he could tell, “is Lady Stadixe. I need to speak with her.” Ren reluctantly takes his eyes off of you to scope out the woman in question. She stands at your side, looking serious—and seriously irritated—shooting angry glances down the line of girls every so often to silence their giggling. Ren doesn’t have to search the minds of the other guests to know that Lady Stadixe plays a much greater role here at the Coruscant Ballet than some kind of handler for the performers. If the general needs to speak to her then she must know about the dealings that take place between her patrons—probably arranges them herself: a choreographer in more ways than one.

General Hux cuts through the crowd, around the edge of the dance floor and through the rest of the guests. Ren can feel his heartbeat build in his chest, the pulses becoming more rapid and more violent as he nears you. The crowd thins, and there’s an eruption of giggles from some of the younger dancers when they see him before Lady Stadixe quiets them with a sharp bark. A strange feeling arrives and he allows himself to sit with it only for a moment—he wishes he weren't such a spectacle, wishes he could approach you like any other man, wishes to be without the reputation, the title. It's only for a moment, but Ren thinks he would kill to be someone else right now if it meant he could take you by the hand.

“Lady Stadixe, allow me to introduce myself,” General Hux begins, greeting the lady with a slight bow, “I am General Hux of the First Order, and this is Commander Ren.” Ren nods in response, out of habit, but his eyes stay on you and he’s terrified to find that you’re returning his gaze through the mask, even if you may not know it. You're prettier up close, he thinks, and your eyes are alight with good humor, but he can't pay attention to any of that because—when you look at him—he's sure that no mask could stop you from seeing everything.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Lady Stadixe responds, her tone curt even if her words are polite, “allow me to introduce you to my dancers.” She gestures down the line and you all curtsy in unison, bowing deep and low to the ground, but you keep your eyes on him, a trace of a smile on your lips. Ren has no idea what you’re thinking, his own nerves interrupting each time he tries to reach out to you through the force, but he continues his attempts anyways, desperate and desperately curious. Your smile is maddening, a secret in its own right, and he finds himself unable to decipher it. A first.

“This is our principal dancer, and the lead for tonight’s production,” Stadixe says as you rise, and you offer your hand to the general first before extending it to Ren. He wants to take it, he wants it very badly, but he’s found that his limbs aren’t obeying his commands, not when you’re looking at him like that.

“It’s a pleasure,” you say, before dropping your hand with a little stutter at his refusal, smoothing it over your skirt to make the movement more natural. You smirk, just slightly, before glancing at the other dancers, looking back at him when you say, “ I’ve never met a force user before.” Giggling breaks out again, and Ren isn’t sure if it’s at his expense or not, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Not if you’re going to keep talking about him.

He should respond, say something, but he can’t think, and he’s petrified at the idea that he might say something stupid. Ren can’t risk it, not in a moment like this, not when he so desperately wants for you to like him. Unfortunately, that gives General Hux a chance to fill the silence.

“I’ve found that they aren’t terribly impressive,” Hux replies, and the bitterness is unmistakable, but it only serves to amuse you more, your smile growing wider, and you trap your tongue between your teeth in an attempt to curb any errant laughter. Ren finds it very difficult to resist the urge to throw the general into a wall. He finds it more difficult to resist the urge to run his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I heard they can read minds,” you fix your eyes onto the general with a steady look, leaning in a little closer as you challenge his words, and the girls behind you mumble to each other more seriously. Even Lady Stadixe seems intrigued now, tuned in to the conversation enough that she doesn’t bother to quiet the others. He feels like a creature in a zoo, some grotesque thing for the others to ogle at, but not to you. He may be mistaken, but he thinks you might actually be defending him.

“Yes, he can,” Hux admits with some reluctance, and the space fills with bright, flaring anxiety as those closest search their most recent thoughts, terrified of what Ren might have learned during this short conversation. None of them need to worry—not that he can explain that right now—the only thoughts he’s interested in are yours.

“Sounds impressive to me.” Some of the other girls nod in agreement, and you sear the general with another challenging stare. Hux shrinks slightly, unable to completely control the sneer that threatens to take over his face, and turns to address Lady Stadixe again, a silent acceptance of his defeat.

“Is he always this quiet?” One of the younger girls interrupts before the general can speak, unwilling to let the novelty of Ren’s presence die, and he fills with dread.

“No,” Hux responds, and he actually sounds surprised as he turns his gaze to Ren, his eyes cold and calculating. He knows, Ren can feel it, and he’s eager for revenge for the snide comment Ren made earlier, as well as a million other things Ren had not come to regret until this moment. Hux turns back deliberately, leaning in a little ways before he speaks, but he makes sure to be loud enough for every one of the dancers to hear, “normally he never shuts up. I can’t imagine what’s changed.”

The general’s stare is pointed as he appraises you with his eyes, his gaze roaming from your head to your feet and back, and he quirks one brow to emphasize his point. Everyone takes notice, some of the girls squealing with laughter when they realize what he means, and you look at him wide eyed before you turn your gaze to the ground, a blush spreading across your cheeks. Ren wishes he had thrown the general into a wall when he had the chance. He still thinks he might, but there’s nothing he can do to salvage this moment now.

Hux seems satisfied with the chaos he’s caused, and he stands up straighter, adjusting his gloves before turning back to address Lady Stadixe, “If I may, there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you in private,” and Stadixe nods, gesturing for Hux to follow her into a far corner away from listening ears. Ren turns to go as well, glad for a chance to escape this living hell in the form of giggling girls, but Hux pauses, turning to face him again.

“Why don’t you stay here with the dancers, Ren, while I speak to Lady Stadixe,” he says, his eyes alight with a vicious delight, “I’m sure you’ll find some way to entertain yourself.”

Ren stops, hoping to quash any embarrassment he might feel with pure rage. He’s already planning which parts of the Finalizer he would tear into first when he returned, thinking about what would anger the general the most. By the time he’s done, Hux would regret everything about tonight.

“Did you enjoy the show, Commander Ren?” He hears you speak behind him, and it pulls him away from his thoughts, back to the embarrassment he felt so strongly earlier. He turns, and manages a nod, keenly aware of the delight in the eyes of every single dancer down the line, all listening avidly to your conversation . . . if you could call it that.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to speak,” you say quietly, stepping a little closer in an attempt to make your chat a private one, and you lower your voice so that only he can hear, “I don’t mind filling the silence. Besides, Lady Stadixe gets very cross if she feels that we’re not keeping our guests entertained; I’m sure you understand?” He nods again, relaxing into your presence, and the other girls slowly lose interest, choosing instead to search the ballroom for other sources of entertainment. Without the watching eyes of the other girls, and the damn general around—Ren feels like he might actually be able to say something to you, might be able to tell you exactly how much he enjoyed your performance, how talented he thinks you are. How beautiful he thinks you are.

"I hate to interrupt-" The voice comes from Ren's right, and he looks to its source, finding a snide-looking man beside him, who reaches for your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers, "I was hoping that you might favor me with a dance."

"Of course." It only takes you a moment before you agree graciously, and Ren is crushed, foolishly hoping that you would refuse in favor of staying with him even though he’s given you no reason to do that. You flash him an apologetic smile as you're whisked away to the dance floor, and the disappointment is prolonged. There was so much he wanted to say to you, and now he'll never get the chance.

The man leads you to the dance floor at the center of the room, a possessive hand placed at your waist. There's jealousy spreading through the room—not only his, but others as well—permeating the space like an oil slick, other young men who had not been brave enough to interrupt your moment with Ren redirecting their anger to your new companion.

"His name is Erichar Kempmont." Ren had not noticed the return of Lady Stadixe, but she stands at his side now, without the general, speaking with the quiet nature of someone used to dealing in secrets, "he is the wealthiest of the girl's suitors."

Ren doesn't respond, his mouth growing dry. Suitors. Multiple. Of course. He should have known. Should have expected it from the beginning, but his vision had been clouded by his desire, by your smile.

"She is very talented, of course," Lady Stadixe continues, her eyes trained on you with impenetrable focus, "but talent alone will not sustain her forever. She'll need security, someone to take care of her when her career has finished. That is something I have promised to provide for her, and I do not break those promises." She glares at Ren, staring him down despite her small stature, waiting for him to issue some kind of challenge. He doesn't.

"Stay away from her," she finishes with some uncertainty; he's unnerved her with his lack of a response. Ren should leave her like this, let her believe what she wants, but the order she's given him leaves him simmering with anger.

"Are you threatening me?" he asks quietly, and the words growl out through his vocoder, leaving her shaking.

"So you do speak," she replies, trying to hide her fear with feigned indifference, "it would be foolish of me to threaten someone like you, of course. But you could consider it a warning."

Lady Stadixe departs just in time for Ren to watch another man ask you for a dance, and his jaw tightens. What business did that woman have telling you what to do? In trying to control him? The anger refuses to dissipate, forming tight and firm deep in his chest.

"There you are," it's the general who interrupts him this time, looking rather flustered, his eyes searching the room skittishly, "There's one more person I need to speak to, and then we can leave this awful place."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ren asks, his leftover irritation from his conversation with Lady Stadixe mingling with brand new irritation at the general. "I thought I was meant to entertain myself?"

Hux flushes with annoyance at Ren's stubbornness, his pale skin becoming marred by red splotches. He feels no remorse for it; the general has earned much more of Ren's difficult behavior after tonight—he'll have to get used to it.

"This person I'll be meeting with," Hux explains through gritted teeth, "is notoriously . . . difficult. I'm concerned that they might try to run. Make yourself useful and guard the exit. I'm sure she won't miss you in your absence." Hux gestures vaguely to the dance floor and scowls before he departs, disappearing into the crowd again.

Ren moves toward the doors with steady-minded determination. There's nothing left for him here anyways; your time for the rest of the night has been claimed, it seems, by the suitors Lady Stadixe had been so kind to point out. He'll wait for the general in the foyer until he's done with his ridiculous meetings and he'll forget about the ballet completely. He won't think about the way the light reflected in your eyes as you danced. Won't picture the way you moved like all music was created for you to give it meaning. Wouldn't imagine what it would be like to hold you in his arms.

Gods, he’s being juvenile. Was a pretty smile and a few kind words all it took for him to lose his mind? He's only known that you existed for a few hours, only held your attention for a few minutes and it has him acting completely deranged.

Moonlight pours through the windows of the foyer, which has been left dark now that the guests have all been moved into the ballroom. The room is larger and colder than he remembers it, and somehow made emptier by his presence. He waits, observing the room without much interest, only vaguely aware of the passage of time, marked by the change in the music as it spills in from the gaps in the ballroom doors, muted by distance. It’s only after three, maybe four songs, that he notices that something else has changed: the faintest hint of light is escaping beneath the theatre doors on the other side of the foyer.

Ren knows that he should stay where he is and watch for the general, but he's overcome with uncharacteristic curiosity when he senses you behind those closed doors. Part of him would like to walk away, to ignore you as the lady had encouraged. Another part of him knows that he might not like what he would see if he chose to enter the theatre; maybe you were not alone, if one of your many suitors had brought you there for a second away from prying eyes. He ignores both of the competing voices, opening the door as quietly as possible, peering into the room beyond.

You are alone, he finds, and on the stage, moving without music, dancing without seeing, your eyes shut tight to the empty seats. Even without the audience, the accompaniment, the costume, or the lights, you perform with the same rigor you had before, and Ren is mesmerized all over again. Somehow, even after your stellar performance earlier in the evening, you seem to push yourself harder: jumping higher, spinning faster, your movements more precise and powerful than Ren can begin to comprehend.

You finish your routine, center stage, your head down and your breathing hard and fast from the exertion. Ren is careful not to make a sound, terrified of interrupting your moment, but when you look up, your eyes find him immediately—as if you knew he was there all along. A few different emotions flash across your face, but embarrassment is the one that sticks, and you drop your eyes to the floor again, folding in on yourself.

"How long have you been here?" You speak quietly, but your voice carries all the way to the back of the theatre. This is it, Ren finally has his chance to speak to you, alone.

"Not long," his words are too stilted, his voice too menacing for his liking, but you aren't disturbed by it, and so he continues, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No need to worry about that," you say, hopping lightly from the stage, walking slowly up the aisle towards him, "I should probably return to the party now. I just needed a quick break. Too many watchful eyes in the ballroom; I'm sure you understand." Ren does understand the feeling, although he’s not sure why its one you would share.

"I thought you might be used to watching eyes, as a performer." You're inching ever closer, one row of seats at a time, and each step tightens the vice grip at his heart, restricting his ability to breathe in the most pleasant kind of fashion.

"It's different-" you say with a nod towards the doors and the ballroom beyond, "in there. I always know what's expected of me on stage, what they're looking for, what I can do. It's . . . not the same everywhere else. Sometimes I need an escape."

Stars, it's like you're inside his head, pulling the words out and placing them in your own mouth. He knows exactly how you feel.

"Do you ever get an escape?" You've finally reached him, your lips curving humorously around your whispered words. The small amount of space between your bodies feels solidified, heavy even, the pressure of your presence almost as enticing as the pressure of your touch. He knows he should not feel this way, but his body and mind are on two different planes right now.

"No, I don't," he says, and you smile sadly, always smiling, as your tongue runs smoothly over your parted lips.

"Can you breathe without it?” Your hands creep up into his line of sight, and you gesture to the mask. All he can manage is a subtle nod of his head, trying to remain composed when every part of him is threatening to combust at the feeling of your fingers searching around the edge of the helmet, flexing slightly when you find the releases. He closes his eyes as you tug the item over his head, unwilling to admit that he’s afraid of what you might feel when you see his face.

“That’s much better,” you say, and he lets his eyes open, allows himself to study you for the first time without the mask. “Would you consider this an escape?” You set the mask down on the seat next to you, and it stares up at him expectant, waiting.

“I would,” he doesn’t like the way his voice sounds now, without the vocoder to mask the lingering emotion behind the two words. It feels like a confession, like a weakness, and he hates that part of himself almost as much as he wants you.

“I know lots of ways to escape,” you say, apparently ignorant to his inner turmoil, “would you like to know my favorite?” You won’t meet his eyes, staring at your fingers instead, which you brush over the material of his sleeve, and the feeling leaves a trail of unraveling nerves in its wake. You can’t be suggesting what he thinks you’re suggesting. This is some kind of fever dream. There’s no way that you would want him the same way that he wants you.

“Yes,” his reply is deep and breathless, but it brings that smile back to your face, and you look up at him again, your other hand curling gently around his neck, your touch feather-light and fragile. The theatre fades away into nothingness—Ren can only think about the space between your mouth and his that shrinks infinitesimally, your movement spanning hours, days, aeons. He doesn’t care. You’re so close.

The blaster shot throws time back to a normal speed and you startle, jumping in his arms before you stagger back away from him, searching for the source of the noise that’s immediately followed by screams. You look at him only for a moment before you both run to the doors, Ren grabbing his helmet first and replacing it over his head, no time to mourn the loss of your touch.

Guests pour out of the ballroom doors, tripping over each other in their finery, ignoring the ripped hems and lost shoes as they force their way to safety. You’re almost swept up by the crowd, but Ren holds you back, one arm wrapped securely around your waist and your fingers push tiny bruises into his skin underneath his uniform as you search desperately through the crowd, trying to spy a hint of your friends, anyone you might recognize who could explain what you had missed.

“Ren!” The general calls out, breaking free of the crowd and forcing his way to the far wall. If he has anything to say about Ren’s absence from the foyer, or your presence here with him, he doesn’t share it, running a gloved hand through his hair, forcing it back after it had been jostled out of place by the stampeding crowd, “we need to leave. Now.”

“Please, what happened?” you wrestle yourself out of Ren’s grasp, grabbing the general by the arm with desperation, “we heard the shot, is everyone alright?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see it.” It’s obvious that Hux is lying, to you and Ren both, but there’s no chance for either of you to confront him, because he’s headed towards the doors again, pulling Ren along with him. Ren turns back—maybe to see if you’re alright, maybe to bring you with him, out of harm's way—he’s not exactly sure, but the press of the crowd is too strong and too fast; he’s hardly able to think before he’s lost sight of you. He didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren angst #kylo ren #my writing #requests #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren/you

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shidoukanae · 4 years ago

Text

YGO! Questionnaire

Tagged by @cipher-wise

Favorite series:

My favorite series based on what I watched and enjoyed would have to be Arc-V!!! It's honestly the series that got me to adore YGO when previously I'd seen YGO as, and I chilidishly quote, "uncool". Everything about Arc-V is pretty much wonderful: Yuya's presence as a "everyone MUST be happy" kind of character in a plot that discusses themes of war, revenge, and despair is absolutely refreshing (especially when Yuya's ideals of happiness are stripped from him and made a mockery of by, *coughs* one of my favorite characters in the franchise *coughs*).

I love how the four Yuu boys are a wonderful combination of "protagonists" (/anatagonists) and how they each play off of each other's weaknesses and strengths, often acting as mirrors to each other in their individual dimensions while having amazing interactions (Yugo and Yuri, anyone? Yuri and Yuya?).

I admire how the endgame plot is a perversion of Yuya's ideals: he gets what he wants, showering happiness upon all, but that "happiness" is corrupted into the notion of entertainment. While Yuya seeks to provide people with smiles and laughter, to give them hope to work together through tough times and to stay strong in the face of adversity, his "counterparts" in the endgame are really good at acting as Yuya's mirror: showing that his style of performing can also be used to appease the bloodthirst of one's own self and that happiness can be corrupted into self-deserving power.

...Hard to put that into exact words without spoiling a lot of things but, gosh, let's just say that Yuri and ____ are the perfect mirrors to Yuya in terms of what his entertainment dueling style is meant to be.

The plot over all is pretty good! I won't lie and say it stands strong all the way throughout the story but the first half is amazing and there are some pretty strong episodes in the second half (Yugo and Rin, the parasite episodes in general, Yuri Yuri YURI). I can definitely say that the humor is there, the characters are amazing (if nothing else, watch for the Yuu Boys, the Bracelet Gals, and Shun versus Sora!!) and having come into the show around episode 104, I was pleasantly surprised by the trip Arc-V brought me and how it played with its protagonist, giving him hope, kicking him down, and toying with his mind - just like the way a warzone might to any idealistic individual.

In terms of other series, I like VRAINS but only up to like episode 19 (or the end of the Data Bank arc). It had potential and I kept hoping it would get better but the plot was constantly floundering, there are plot holes abundant (sewer monsters, ugh), character development is inconsistent not to mention very shallow, VRAINS has some of the best side characters but they're kicked to the curb by a bland protagonist and a villain that could've been so much cooler but they made him a sympathetic mess.

...I have a lot of gripes with VRAINS but, if it were to ever be rewritten with clear goalposts and plot twists in mind (not to mention development on ideas like Charisma Duelists because at the end of the show I still have not a fucking clue what a Charisma Duelists is or was) I would say it has potential to become my favorite series but Arc-V clearly beats it for me in every category lmao.

Zexal’s also really good too!!! I don’t get all the hate behind it because it’s actually really interesting and engaging (also IV’s definition of fanservice is literally the only type of fanservice I will ever accept) and I think I’ve even cried a couple of times during the course of the plot which is like,,, shocking considering it’s not a show I thought I’d cry over (I cried in Arc-V too but goddamn does tiny Yuya just want to make you tear up lmao). This show is really good emotionally and it’s literally so stupid how Kaito carries a lot of the early and middle game of the show yet most of the meat of the plot doesn’t begin to unravel until the second season.

Also, if you ever want to watch a show of 100+ episodes that is so masterfully written that there is foreshadowing for stuff in like episode 130+ on EPISODE ONE, please watch this. Literally there are so many hints of what is going to happen in the future in the early episodes and you won’t really be able to tell what those hints are until you’ve finished the show but goddamn when you go back and rewatch things it does indeed feel amazing how much foreshadowing they threaded into the show without you ever knowing...(please don’t search for spoilers if you intend to watch this. I went into the show knowing some spoilers tho not all and, while I was still pleased by what I watched, I honestly can agree the show is A Lot Better without knowing ANYTHING)

Favorite Protagonist: Yuya. For sure, out of all the series, Yuya.

He’s a refreshing protagonist, especially considering he shines in a world of war and despair. He’s also someone who you empathize with right at the start and want to hope in, especially since he is the “happiness” in a word of “madness” and “sorrow”. He’s not someone out to save the world (not really, anyways), but his actions touch on the lives of others anyways, giving people in a hope in a world that is otherwise cruel and heartless. Also, it really helps that he’s able to pull you into his world of “egaos”, making you believe in him and root for him despite how cheesy his ideals may or may not sound.

Also love how, despite being the centerpiece of “happiness”, Yuya isn’t allowed to always be happy :> Not spoiling plot related things but if you like protagonists going off the rails insane at times, Yuya’s definitely a fun protagonist for that!!!

Favorite Rival:

Kaito Tenjou!!! Literally the best rival in the series that I’ve seen. Everything about him is literally perfect ngl. From the way he’s chillingly introduced, with the spine-tingling whistles and cruel, almost merciless nature, to the way he slowly becomes sympathetic while also remaining a terrifying presence whenever he appears...I love him????

Favorite BFF:

Does Shoichi count? Because like...he’s Yusaku’s closest friend and ally in the series and I generally don’t pay attention to the other BFF’s in the other series (or at least, the ones I can recall bc I know in Zexal that Yuma has a whole group of friends lmao).

But I like Shoichi!! He cares about Yusaku a lot, is pretty damn cool as a sidekick hacker, his sideplot with his brother was actually honestly endearing and I loved the mystery about him. His early-game jokes w/ Ai to tease Yusaku were also a good laugh.

Favorite GFF:

Not a girl friend forever for the main protagonist (although she like...lowkey confessed to him...though that plot really never went anywhere so I still don’t know what the fuck THAT was about) but,,, Ema Bessho,,

If y’all knew me back in my peak YGO days when VRAINS was airing,,, this gal was and STILL is my favorite girl of the YGO series. Even though she was pretty much done dirty imo I still love her (even despite considering she’s been made a damsel-in-distress at least three times, she’s only ever won one duel on-screen despite being supposedly good at dueling, ngl they could’ve done so much more with her but tbh she’s mostly just an asset to solve problems at whim and barely gets character development/does nothing but watch and spectate stuff late-game).

Even though she’s like...the unfortunate side character who’s probably meant to be more fanservice than interesting, in the first 19 episodes (and even the Revolver vs. her fight as well as the one time she meets Aoi IRL early-game) made her out to be a lot cooler and complex than she ended up being. I mean,,, a hacker gal who’s self-serving, cynical, and cold-hearted taking on the tasks of her (potentially ex) boyfriend while being really nice to his sister to the point she baffles even herself,,, we could’ve had a really unique and cool character to play around with here but instead we got...cool-ass character with potential to be something more reduced to a spectator with nothing better to do than idolize the main protagonist and have a plot with her brother that honestly detracted from her character more than it added to it imo.

Also Ema could’ve been a female Yuri but,,, nope,,, they decided she was better as a background piece instead TwT

Favorite Villain: Yuri.

Literally Yuri.

I could choose the leather jacket w/ fluff boi in a certain series because hot damn was that guy convincing AF that he wasn’t an evil psychopath (and even while knowing that he was, I still got fooled into thinking he was a good guy somehow omg) however,,, I’ve always held a love for Yuri and the way he’s been portrayed.

Despite ALWAYS being the bad guy, the show has always made this purple fucker into the most entertaining character on-screen. He even beats Yuya sometimes in terms of how entertaining he is - that’s literally how good he is,,

Also his facial expressions are amazing, he’s a VERY VALID threat to the main cast (and his creeper levels are not only off the charts but literally called out by the main female protagonist herself lmao), and he acts as the perfect foil to Yuya, battling not to entertain others but to entertain himself.

Also, he likes killing people.

No this is not a joke.

He literally likes killing people. And is pretty sadistic about it, too.

(^^^^ for those who don’t get the joke, “Fusion” is pronounced “Yuugo” which sounds similar to “Yugo” which is what,,, Yuri is making fun of,,, more context is needed of course but this is a Great Running Gag)

Favorite card:

I don’t know if it actually exists as an actual card but...that crystal dragon from the YGO movie with the glass pyramid. Blue-Eyes Shining Dragon...it’s really pretty...I love it...

Favorite Episode:

I’m...too lazy to search for names of these episodes but I can give brief summaries of them,,, because I can’t choose,,,

Arc-V: Shun vs. Sora (ALL episodes). Hot damn if you have never watched YGO but want to try and see for yourself why people like it: WATCH THESE EPISODES. I can’t explain how amazing these episodes are and, while I admit jumping straight into them might have you missing out on some important context (such as who Shun is or why Sora’s battle tactics lead to revelation) it’s honestly an amazing fight regardless. The battle starts off plain enough - there’s obvious tension, it seems like a typical fight of a battle royale, etc. - my god does the battle ramp up in emotional tension and promptly kick you in the gut with not only how blindsided you’ve been, but it also showcases just how cruel these “entertainment duels” can really get.

Any episode with Yuri. Literally any episode he’s in.

I think this is like...episode 8 of VRAINS...but whenever it is that Akira hires Ema to find the reason why Aoi just...straight up got knocked into a coma. Literally this is my favorite episode when it comes to Ema. The way she makes fun of Akira even while aware of his situation,,, her cruel selfishness and desire for money bubbling to the surface, the way she confesses how she can’t be trusted willingly and still asks Akira why he’s hiring her,,, god I love this episode in terms of what Ema could’ve always been.

Episode 13 (/14?) of Zexal!!! This is the episode Kaito appears and when the show REALLY picks up. Kaito is a fun bastard of a rival and tbh I don’t think I’ll ever stop getting chills of him walking in, debris frozen in time all around him, as he approaches his victim, whistling an eerie children’s tune as he gets ready to close in for the kill,,,,

Favorite Deck to Use:

I don’t...really play the game itself but...I have used a couple of decks and I guess you can say I really love Raid Raptors??? First of all, those warbirds make really fun sounds I love ‘em in the anime but they’re also just fun to use in general (even tho I used a,,, very basic deck for them,,, I love them still).

Fusion, Ritual, Synchro, XYZ, Pendulum or Link:

XYZ bc it’s really the only summoning method I’m used to lol :P. Also XYZ loyalist I guess????

Years in fandom: roughly five to six years iirc? I mean, I was a fan of the early day YGO and watched it as a kid but not active enough to be in the fandom for it lmao. Also not in the fandom atm because Sevens lost my attention (it’s a good show!!! I’m just unfortunately more a fan of things with serious plots and darker themes and it’s hard for me to stomach slice-of-life shows that don’t focus on a mature and engaging plot). However, Arc-V and Zexal holds a special place in my heart (as does VRAINS, begrudgingly) and so I occasionally find myself wandering back to these shows like right now,,,

#yugioh #Arc-v #Zexal #honestly Arc-V feels like the type of show beginners should watch if they want to get into YGO #granted it might take all the way up until Yuto and Shun to get into the show #but once you hit Shun versus Sora oh my god does the slowburn really feel worth it #it will also probably surprise no one that I have several OC's based on who Ema Bessho could've been and despite how much I hate how she's-#been written in canon I've taken ideas I've had for how she could be better written and slapped them onto characters for my own story uwu

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imaginesmai · 5 years ago

Text

Jax Teller-Injury

This was requested by @buckysjuicyplums (I messed up some requests, but I think I got this one right!)

Plot: Summer mornings with Abel are always unpredictable.

Summer in Charming was the most similar thing to hell on Earth. Every part of the town emanated heat, and you couldn’t go out of your house without rivers of sweat falling down your neck. Lucky for you, Jax’s house had an air conditioner machine that made the whole place have a normal temperature. Being the supportive and amazing girlfriend you were, you were staying with him for the whole summer; and maybe because your apartment didn’t have air conditioner, but it was better to think the other way.

Still, even if the cool breeze of the machine made your feet cold, you preferred to stay away from your heater boyfriend. That meant no cuddles, no hugs and the minimal amount of sex. Along with a pouty Jax.

“Please, darling” Jax looked at you with puppy eyes from the other side of the bed. “A quick hug?”

You were laying on you side, just on your underwear and knowing what your boyfriend meant by “a quick hug”; he had done it before. You chuckled softly, not moving your foot from his chest, the only thing preventing Jax reaching you.

“Go and hug your son, Jax. You’re not getting near me until winter, get that in your head”

“Am I only a personal heater to you? I thought we had something special here, Y/N!”

Jax gripped your foot with his hands and started tickling it. Between laughs, you lost all the resistance and Jax pulled you closer to him by your leg; two seconds later, you were crying under him as he tickled you to no end.

Small footsteps sounded in the hallway, and soon a frowning Abel appeared by the door. He looked to the both of you, deciding who he was going to help. There, with his little hand gripping the side of the door and his small face frowning, he was the cutest boy in the world for you. Not like his father was letting you say anything with his hands on your sides.

“Hey buddy” Jax stopped and looked at his son, smiling softly. “What are you doing up?”

“I heard mommy scream” he said warily, still trying to guess who was hurting who. “Are you hurting mommy?”

You weren’t his mommy, but Jax didn’t do anything to correct him. His mother was a junkie who nearly killed him and made the first year of his life a nightmare. Wendy disappeared from their lives as soon as Abel was out of the hospital, and the little boy grew up with you as his father’s girlfriend. Or his mommy, as he called you.

With your own apartment and life, and just four years of relationship, you didn’t want to move in with Jax yet. But it didn’t mean any problem with the little boy, who still called you mommy and treated you like one.

“No-“

“Yes!” you moved from under Jax and quickly returned to your original place, opening your arms and waiting for Abel to climb with you. “Daddy was being a meanie to me baby”

Abel looked towards his father with a deep frown, his kid mind already deciding Jax was being the bad guy. With fast and short steps, he ran and climbed into the bed with your help, nesting in your chest.

Jax’s mouth fell open, looking at the betray of his son. Playfully, he crossed his arms and faked indignation, watching as his son could cuddle you yet he couldn’t even get a quick hug.

“I see, you side with mommy? That’s it, Abel? You betray me for her?”

“You were being bad daddy!” he pointed an accusatory finger. “I’m not going to let you near mommy ever again!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips at his adorableness. With just three years and a half, was smarter than any of the kids in town. He knew most of the letters and numbers, had manners like his father and talked about anything. Sadly, it was probably because of the life he was being raised in. Abel had to see how his father came home more than one night with his kutte stained with blood, how those who he called uncles went to “some place” and never came back, and he even had been between a misfire twice.

Jax’s hands took you out of your daydreaming, pulling you both closer to his body and creating a sandwich with Abel in the middle. The little kid laughed and screamed, trying to get free from his father. The heat in the room was long forgotten, and you enjoyed watching Jax playing with Abel for a while.

Finally, you managed to break free and take Abel with you, getting up from the bed.

“I think it’s time to have breakfast. Do you think daddy has been good? Or do we left him here and we go out to buy our special breakfast?”

Between the laughs and fun, you hadn’t missed how Jax’s phone had lighten up a few times, the guys or his mother calling him. It didn’t matter that it was Saturday morning, you were lucky enough to have him with you last night. Since Abel was born and you entered in his life, Jax had not been in any Friday’s party, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t active in the club.

“Special breakfast! Special breakfast!” Abel clapped excitedly, missing your face for just an inch.

Special breakfast was usually your way of keeping Abel entertained while Jax took care of the club’s business. You went out to his favourite place, bought his favourite milkshake and spent the morning in the park. That way, it was easier for him to spend a morning, or a whole day, without his father.

You placed Abel on the ground and let him run towards his room, where he could get changed and pick up his toys for the park. The bed dipped again under your weight, and that time you did hug Jax. He ran his hands along your sides, placing you on top of him and kissing your lips.

It was a lazy kiss, the “quick hug” long forgotten. As if he was already apologising for leaving.

“It’s okay” you smiled at him. “Go take care of that business, I don’t want Gemma all angry and crazy here.”

“I’ll pick you up after it’s over, I guess it’s something related with Stahl” he sighed. That woman had been behind the club for at least two months, and was driving Jax crazy. He had tried to do everything right and not let her find anything against the club, but she was searching in the darkest places.

“Be careful, alright? It doesn’t matter what she does or says, don’t lose your shit and keep your head high” you kissed him again, that time really feeling the heat radiating off his body. Still, you caressed his cheek before falling apart. “I love you”

“I love you too, Y/N” he looked up at you with big lovely eyes. “I can’t even tell you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“Just repay me by getting your hot ass out of my personal space” you laughed, rolling to your side.

You watched him, most likely stared at him, as he put on his underwear and clothes. He bended down by your side to pick up his trousers, and you didn’t miss the opportunity to smack his round and perfect ass. Jax jumped a little and looked at you with a raised eyebrow, promising you unsaid things.

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Abel’s mouth was still stained with chocolate, and you had to run after him through the whole park to wipe it. Even with the warm weather and the high temperatures, the park was rather nice. The high trees and the lake made the temperature drop a few degrees, and you found yourself sighing in peace sitting in the shadow and watching Abel ran and play.

The park itself wasn’t too big, just a few swings, a slide and a small sandbox, all of it surrounded by grass. There were a few kids with their families, and Abel was quick to make a new friend and play with her. You watched as they played with Abel’s trucks in the sandbox, something similar to a mother’s pride filling your chest.

Too busy smiling at them, you didn’t notice someone sitting next to you. It took you a few seconds to turn your head to your right and see agent Stahl watching Abel with a sick smile. You frowned, not understanding what was she doing there. Still, you smiled at her and tried to be nice, for the sake of the club.

“Good morning, agent Stahl” you said, making her look your way. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“I was just strolling down the park, I saw you sitting here all alone and I thought you might need some company.”

You swallowed your words, knowing that she was there for something different. She was wearing her work suit and you could make out the gun on her trousers. Not an outfit for a quiet walk around the park.

“Well, I’m pretty good here. Though thanks for worrying” you turned away from her, looking at Abel. You thanked whoever was up there that he didn’t notice the strange woman by your side. He was pretty protective of you and Jax, always wary of strangers; just like his father.

It was silent for a while, her presence breaking the peace of the moment you were enjoying. Deep down, you were waiting for her to talk again, and she didn’t disappoint you.

“Where is Jax? There must be an important reason for him to miss this familiar trip” you rolled your eyes at her question.

“He’s busy somewhere, I don’t keep track on his movement. Not the obsessed girlfriend.”

You’re already obsessed enough. Stahl was really becoming obsessed with the club, and had gone to great lengths to catch them. She had even talked to Tara, Jax’s ex who lived two states away and didn’t know anything about him.

“Is he in the club?” she pressed further, knowing fully where was Jax.

“I’ve already told you I-“

Abel calling your name interrupted you, and he ran towards you with a happy smile; still not having noticed the federal agent. You got up from your stop, welcoming him with open arms and smiling at his contagious laugh. Stahl stayed behind you, not making her presence known yet.

If you had payed closer attention, you would have noticed that behind you two agents were all dressed up and backing up Stahl, but you were too focused on Abel. He told you about Sherryl, his new friend who had to leave soon because her father was taking her on a trip. His excited speech finished when he saw Stahl behind you, suddenly gripping you tighter and forgetting about his happiness.

“What do you think about going home? We can spend the rest of the morning playing games there” you proposed, wanting to be as far as you could from her. Abel nodded softly against your knee, hugging them as if his life depended on it.

You made him go and pick up his toys as you turned around to talk to Stahl. What you didn’t expect was to find her with the two agents at her sides.

“Look, Y/N, we don’t really want to drag any attention, we just want you to answer to some questions about Jax. So, if you would so kindly come with us to the station” she gave you a fake smile, the agents’ hands not leaving their guns. “It will take a few minutes only, I promise, and I’m sure someone can watch over Abel while we talk?”

Talking was a kind way of calling “asking you questions about the club until your head explode”, you thought. You looked back at Abel, who was putting all of his toys on his backpack as he looked at you.

“Maybe another time, it’s awfully hot and we really want to go home”

“Or maybe you’ve misunderstand me” she raised her perfect sharped brow, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry. What I meant was that you’re coming with us to the station to be interrogated about the sons’ activities. I’ll make sure Abel is somewhere cool, he can play with his toys while we talk.”

“Why do I have to be interrogated? I’ve got nothing to do with the club” you frowned. “If you want to talk with me so badly, you can find me in the hospital working on Monday, and I’ll be more than happy to answer your questions. Now, it’s Saturday morning and I want to spend my weekend with my son”

“Mommy, I’m ready.”

Abel appeared by your side, and gripped your hand tight. It was the first time you called him your son; even if he wasn’t by blood, you felt like he was really yours. Abel had his backpack on, and was tugging your hand to keep going. Still, you didn’t move and waited for Stahl to answer.

She looked at you for a while, her eyes filling with anger little by little. She had talked already with every other old lady; they hadn’t told her anything, but they didn’t tell her no either.

“I really want to do this the easy way, Y/N” she took a threatening step forwards, and you had to put your hand on Abel’s chest to put him in his place. He might had been a little boy, and he might had been scared as hell, but he wasn’t going to let a stranger near his mommy.

“The easy way is to come talk with me on Monday, when I’m not with my son.”

“You’re blocking a federal investigation. And because of that, I have every right to do this” she turned towards the agents, and nodded to them. “Bring her to the car, I don’t care if you have to put the handcuffs.”

While the tall one took Abel out of your arms, the other one gripped your arm and pulled you away. Abel cried and screamed, trying to get close to you and dragging the attention of a few people around you. They all knew who you were, yet they didn’t do anything to avoid it. Jax’s son was probably as aggressive and impulsive as him, so he didn’t hesitate to bite the agent’s arm; what led to him being thrown to the ground.

You called his name and broke free to grab him, feeling the blood on his knee and getting angrier. Abel cried harder, clutching his bleeding knee and begging for his daddy. However, before you could get up again, the agent pulled you up and dragged you to the car.

Your screams and threats didn’t do anything, and you got stuck watching how they put Abel on the car and you followed after. If it had been any other agent or Jax would have been any other criminal, they wouldn’t have done anything probably.

But they were rougher because of the hate they held for the club, and didn’t measure they force when they put on the handcuffs. You felt your wrist snapping under the hard man’s hands, and you cried out.

“No! Don’t hurt mommy!” Abel cried from the other’s agent arms, trying to get you. “Don’t touch her!”

Jax was going to be angry.

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If there was a thing that Jax hated about the club was that there wasn’t a damn fan or air conditioner in the whole place. The hard leather of his kutte was sticking into his back, and he could feel his shirt drenched in sweat. Church was lasting longer than what he had thought, because they really needed a way of leaving Stahl behind. Yet after nearly three hours, they came around with nothing.

Jax watched as his phone lighted up from the corner of his eye, the vibration making the whole table look at him. Thinking it was just Abel wanting to talk to him, he went to turn it down. But just as he was doing so, he realized that it wasn’t your name on the screen.

A few years ago, Jax had left his phone number in the station for emergencies, knowing that Unser was trustworthy. He knew he would only call him if it was an important matter, so he didn’t hesitate to leave everyone with their mouths open and walk out the door.

“Unser?” he closed the door behind him, a frown on his face. It had been ages since he had called him.

“Yeah, Jax. Didn’t know if you had the same number, thank God you have” he sighed. “It had been a while since you left it here, and-“

“What’s the matter? Something has happened?” Jax heard him take a deep breathe on the other side. “Look, I’m in the middle of something, so it better be something important.”

“Stahl was supposed to have a free day, she told the department she was going to take care of some personal shit” Jax tensed at her name. “You know she has been asking around about the club, even going to the old ladies’ houses.”

That was one of the reasons of the meeting that day. Opie was tired of Stahl chasing his wife and kids around Charming, trying to get information they didn’t have. Gemma had found her in the supermarket, and the prospects had always an agent following them around. There wasn’t a single men or women in the club that wasn’t framed.

“I know, we’re taking care of it. You’re kind of late, old man.”

“I don’t think so” Unser said, and there was an awkward pause before he talked again. “I’ve here your old lady and your son. Stahl has nothing against them, but unless someone comes and picks them up they can’t leave. She hasn’t let Y/N call anyone, so technically they must stay here.”

“Fuck” Jax whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand. Everything that could go wrong, was going even worse. He gave a hard kick to a stool that was next to him. “Fuck, fuck and fuck!”

Jax let out another bunch of curses before thanking him briefly and hanging up. The noise and Jax’s screams had made Opie and Gemma get out of the Church.

“What’s the matter? Who was that?”

“Stahl has Y/N and Abel in the station” he scoffed as he looked for the van’s keys. “They won’t let them out until I pick them up. I’ll call you later.”

He didn’t let them say anything else as he speed out of the club.

The way towards the station was the longest in his life, thoughts of ways to murder that woman running wild through his mind. She didn’t have the right to mess up with his life. His hand, white from gripping the wheel, clenched and unclenched a few times, imagining that it was Stahl’s neck.

After five agonizing minutes in a too-hot van, he ran out of it and walked towards the station. When he opened the door, he was met with the soft breeze of the air conditioner; and his son calling him between sobs.

Jax turned his head to the right and saw Abel inside an office, the agent who was supposed to watch him, too tired of his screams, playing some game in the computer. His little hands pounded against the glass, and his glossy eyes met his father’s and were filled with more tears. Jax ignored the kind woman in the front and walked towards the office, opening the door and crutching down to hug his son.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry no more. I’m here, you see? I’m here now” he caressed Abel’s head and pushed it against his neck, feeling how his little fist gripped his t-shirt. “Shh, breath, Abel, everything is fine now.”

The officer rose up, ready to shout at Jax but backing down when he saw the look on his eyes. Abel kept sobbing in his neck, yet he could make out a few words. He winced a little when Jax moved him, and nothing in a million worlds could have prevented Jax to look down.

His little knee, his son’s precious and small knee was scratched, a small and misplaced band aid on it. The wound, which was actually nothing more than a scratch, was not covered completely by it. Jax peeled it off with care, but he couldn’t avoid hurting Abel a little.

“How did you get this, buddy?” he frowned, rocking him up and down to keep his sobs at bay. “Did you fucking do this to my son?”

His voice, that for his son had been soft and caring, for the officer held nothing but hate. He gulped down, scared of Jax and ready to pee himself.

“N-No! They-They just dropped him here, and I was told to watch over him” the officer said, too fast and showing his fear. “I-Look, I even put a band aid on it!”

“Are you that much of an idiot?! You put the damn band aid on the wound!”

“I did my best man, fuck, I didn’t-“

“Don’t fucking swear in front of my son!”

Jax’s voice roared in all the station, the veins of his neck showing at his anger and his face red. He might have said a lot of bad words in front of his words, yet whoever said one might want to take care of his balls. Abel’s broken sobs made him look at him, finally understanding what he was saying.

“M-mommy, I want mommy”

“Where is mommy, baby?” Jax got up and walked towards the officer, who seemed to be facing hell. “Where is Y/N?”

Inside the officer there was no amount of loyalty for his boss, Stahl, anymore, only fear, so he pointed towards the end of the hall. Jax gave him one last look and ran towards in, not letting Abel out of his grasp. He saw Unser inside one of the offices, and decided that he would talk to him later; then, he only had an objective in mind.

Jax pushed the man who was blocking the door aside, and opened it with a hard push; it hit the wall behind and made everyone look at him. Inside, agent Stahl was sitting on a chair in front of you, her back facing Jax. She had a few papers in front of her, and Jax managed to see one or two dead corpses on them. Stahl was showing them to you, hopeful to get some answers, yet getting nothing at all.

Your face lighted up when you saw Jax with Abel in his arms, and he smiled in relief when he saw you safe.

“I think this is over, then” you smiled at Stahl. “Seems that I don’t need to call him to get him here, right?”

Stahl blinked a few times, hating the fact that Jax had managed to get there so soon; only a few more minutes and she was sure she could have gotten something out of you or Abel.

“Right” she scoffed, getting up. “I’ll talk to you soon, Y/N.”

She got up and turned around, looking at Jax dead in the eye. Abel clutched to his father tighter, trying to make his small body invisible for that woman. The two guards that were there exited the room before her, without giving Jax a glance. Stahl stood in her place for a while, and decided that it was a good idea to touch Abel’s head.

The little boy shirked away and tried to put as much distance as he could between them; however, that time Stahl didn’t get to touch a hair on his head. When his daddy was around, no one would ever look at him the wrong way. Jax gripped the agent’s wrist with force, making her make an uncomfortable face.

“You’re not going to talk to Y/N soon, and definitely you’re not going to touch my son ever again” he tightened his grip, making her put her other hand on his arm and try to pry it away. “Because if you do, I’m going to make sure the next dead corpse picture in that desk will be yours. Am I clear?”

“Are you threatening an federal agent, Teller?” she chuckled “I could arrest you-“

“But you’re not going” he smirked, not letting her go; if only, he made her double her knees in pain. “You don’t want your bosses finding that you took my girlfriend’s right for a call.”

Stahl pulled hard one last time to get free, and Jax let her go at the same time; making her fall on her butt. She looked up with an embarrassed face and ignored Abel’s attempts to cover a soft laugh between the tears. After getting up with the little left of her dignity, she gave you a dirty stare and ran out of the room.

As soon as she was out, Jax placed Abel on the ground and ran towards you, cupping your face between his hands. Abel climbed on your lap and hug your middle, as the tears on his cheek dried out. You didn’t have time to say anything before Jax crashed his lips against you, not caring about squeezing his son between you. He lengthen the kiss for a few seconds, almost reluctant of letting you go. By the time he let go, your lips were red and swollen, and he was ready to take you home.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come any sooner” he looked down to where Abel was finally calm, happy to be with both of his parents again. “Unser called me, and I ran here as fast as I could.”

“We’re fine, Jax” you smiled. “It was just a scare. But promise me you will deal with that bit-woman, deal with Stahl soon.”

Jax laughed at your attempt to soften your language in front of Abel, who already heard too much of it in the club.

“How is your knee, buddy? Does it-“

Jax stopped himself when he looked down to his son’s knee. He was sitting in your lap, one of your hands in Jax’s shoulder and the other one on Abel’s knee. That hand, that he had dreamed of putting a ring on for so many months, was swollen and had a dark and nasty bruise on it. He moved backwards a little and took it between his hands, careful as if you were made of glass.

“What the hell is this?” he frowned.

“It’s nothing, Jax, just a bruise-“

“The bad agent hurt mommy” Abel talked, his face resting in your chest. “He was rough with her, like when I push my toys too hard and they break. I tried to stop him, daddy! But he wouldn’t listen to me!”

You smiled at Abel, wondering what could you have done to deserve such a kind soul. Jax smiled too, telling his son that he had done his best.

“It’s probably broken” you whispered, not meeting his eyes. “You think Chibs can do something or we should go the hospital?”

“When it’s something related with the club, I don’t mind handing it to Chibs” he said. “With you it’s different, I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to the hospital.”

“I have my special band aids on the car!” Abel’s eyes lightened up, happy to think he could help. “Daddy, have you brought the car?”

Jax shook his head and Abel looked down, suddenly sad again. Before he could start crying again, Jax came up with a solution.

“You know how you can help mommy?” Jax smirked slowly, already knowing you wouldn’t like the idea. “You’re going to tell me who hurt mommy, right? And we’re going to teach that asshole that you don’t mess with mommy!”

“No!” you said, at the same time Abel talked too.

“Yes! Yes, daddy! We’ll teach them no one fucking mess with mommy!” he clapped excitedly, throwing himself to Jax’s arms.

You gasped at Abel’s word and Jax laughed; it was the first time Abel said a bad word, too young to even know them. Jax got up and, with Abel on his shoulder, dragged you closer to his side. He kissed your pouty lips, taking your anger away. Between laughs and a smack on the back of Jax’s head, you walked out of the station.

So much for a quiet summer day.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

#jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #jax teller angst alphabet #request #imaginemai #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy one shot #soa #soa imagine #soa x reader #soa one shot

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ladyreapermc · 5 years ago

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Fic: Stimulus Equivalence (Jack Traven x Reader)

Summary: Jack distracts you while you’re trying to explain him a concept

Pairing: Jack Traven x fem!reader

Author’s Note: Alright, this is my first attempt of smut and it turned out a little nerdy. I’m weird like that. Shout out to @caryled for beta’ing this. You’re the best, babe! Feedback is much appreciated.

Wordcount: 1700

Warnings: smut (oral female receiving; fingering and pleading kink)

You were sitting in the middle of your bed, behavior analysis book open on one side, notebook on your lap, head bouncing to the sound of AC/DC as you wrote down some the talking points for your lecture next morning. It was pretty late, so you already were in your favorite sleeping attire which was one of Jack’s old LAPD shirts.

You looked up when he walked into the room, looking so absolutely exhausted you winced in sympathy. Being a police officer in a SWAT team meant he worked really long hours most days. But whenever he had a particularly bad case, Jack would come in looking like death warmed him over, ready to just drop down and sleep.

Tonight didn’t seem to be that particular case, but he still faceplanted on the bed next to you with a long, dramatic huff. You ran your hands through his buzzcut hair in a comforting manner, scratching a little just to hear him purr in pleasure. Jack was like a cat sometimes. A really big and buff, muscly cat.

“Tough day?” you asked, and he just nodded, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your thigh. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he replied, turning on his side. “What are you doing?”

“Prepping a class for tomorrow.”

“I thought you didn’t have class on Tuesdays…” Jack trailed off, catching your grimace and he glared. “Your asshole advisor is ditching work again and threw it on your lap, didn’t he?”

“I really don’t mind, babe,” you said with an eye-roll because sometimes Jack could get a little too overprotective. “It’s just that I’m not too familiar with the topic, so I have to do a little more prepping.”

You could see that Jack wanted to argue but chose to keep quiet, which you appreciated. The last thing you wanted was to get into another fight about your advisor. You knew Jack hated the guy.

You didn’t really like him either, but Dr. Stewart was the only one in the psychology department who studied cultural practices and behavior analysis, something you really wanted to research for your Ph.D., so it was easier to suck it up and just do what he asked. Even if it wasn’t part of your obligations as a Ph.D. candidate. Besides, you were almost getting used to it by now.

“What is it about?” Jack asked, getting up to undress. “The class?”

“Stimulus equivalence,” you replied distracted by the breathtaking sight of your boyfriend shirtless in front of you.

Because of his job, Jack kept himself in perfect shape. He had strong broad shoulders, muscled chest and defined abs marked by a vertical scar that ran from the end of his sternum down to his belly button. He was gorgeous and you couldn’t help but stare and wonder how the hell you ended up dating a guy like him.

“Babe?” Jack called and you looked up startled, catching his smirk. “I asked what stimulus equivalence is.”

You thought about it for a moment, tapping a quick rhythm on your notebook. Jack had heard you babbling about behavior analysis enough times that he was familiar with most concepts, but this one was a pain in the ass even for you who studied this for a living.

Also, it was really hard to focus when you had all that glorious golden skin exposed in front of you.

When Jack started taking off his belt and undoing his jeans, you swallowed hard and looked down at your notebook, trying to clear your thoughts.

“It’s a technical concept that helps us study symbolic behavior. It’s like… why is this a notebook?”

You gestured the object on your lap and Jack looked at you like he was regretting having asked. He kicked his jeans aside, coming back to bed wearing only his boxers and you had to fight the urge to stare.

“It’s a book you can write notes in,” he replied with an arched eyebrow and you chuckled because he did have a point.

“Fine, what about the bed? Why is it called a bed and not a chair or a lamp? Why is your name Jack?”

“My parents name me after my grandfather,” he said, and you nodded.

“I know, but that’s nothing about you that has anything similar to the word Jack. Physically, I mean. Any relations between you and your name come from established functions. It’s a family name, you were just born, probably looked a bit like your granddad…”

Jack just nodded looking almost distracted as he moved closer, sitting in front of you on his heels and shifting both your notebook and book out of the way.

“But from that moment on, you and your name became equivalent,” you continued because once you were in a roll it was hard to stop. “If I say your name or If I show a picture of you to your coworkers, they’ll know it’s you.”

“I sure hope so.”

He maneuvered your legs until they were straddling his hips and you had to move closer to make the angle of your body more comfortable, leaning back on your elbows as you watched Jack. You were suddenly feeling a lot warmer than before, but you were still able to keep your focus on what you were saying.

“And even though there are no physical similarities between these stimuli, they share the same function, so I might behave the same way when either of them is present.”

“And how might you behave?” He asked running his hands up your thighs and pushing the shirt up, exposing your underwear.

“Well, they both elicit physiological responses,” you replied breath hitching on your throat. “My heart beats faster if I hear your name or if I see you.”

Jack smirked as he watched you hungrily, one of his hands moving from your legs to cup your left breast, thumb teasing you through the shirt and if your heart wasn’t racing before, it sure was now and he could definitely feel it.

“Any other physiological responses?” he asked, eyebrow raised and smirk growing as one of his hand reached between your legs, finding you wet.

“I don’t think I can use that as an example in class,” you gasped, eyes fluttering as his rough fingers sneaked beneath the fabric of your panties to tease you.

“Better not,” he agreed.

Jack pulled his fingers away and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean as he held your gaze and you groaned, mouth going dry, body so hot it almost felt like you were going to combust.

You pushed yourself up until you were sitting on his lap and caught Jack’s mouth in a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue and feeling the self-satisfied smile on his lips. So, you rocked your hips, grinding against the hard line of his cock and Jack grunted.

This time, you were the one smirking, but it didn’t last long. He pushed you back until were lying down and shoved your shirt up, exposing your body. Kissing you again, he tangled fabric around your wrists, binding them together and above your head.

He gave you a quick look, searching for your consent and you just nodded, quivering with need. Jack flashed you a mischievous grin before coming down your body alternating wet kisses and teasing little bites over your neck, breasts, and stomach, leaving your writhing and panting, your brain struggling to form coherent thoughts.

Part of you wanted to let go and let Jack do whatever he wanted with you. But the responsible side of you knew that you could rarely get your brain to function after orgasm and you really needed to get this class done.

“Jack, I really need to finish…” you trailed off as he kissed your cunt over the lace of your panties effectively short-circuiting your brain.

“I agree,” he declared, taking the garment off and settling comfortably between your legs. “Let me help you with that.”

Every inch of you felt electrified as Jack ran the flat of his tongue over your wet folds, before teasing your clit. He was nothing if not diligent in his effort of bringing you to the brink of orgasm, before slowing down, leaving you desperate and frustrated, grinding against his mouth, chasing your release.

“Jack, please…” you asked, struggling to get your hands free so you could run your fingers through his hair, wishing you had something to hold on.

Jack looked up long enough to smirk at you once again. He was a cocky son of a bitch who loved when you begged but he redoubled his efforts, his long fingers pushed inside you and your knees spread even wider as you moaned. One of your hand was still on his head, holding him in place, the other fisting the sheets beneath you.

You were rocking your hips against his mouth, trying to get him to move faster feeling your body tight and tense, shuddering with the overwhelming sensations.

“Please…” You begged again and this time Jack complied.

He sped up his fingers, thumb rubbing circles at your clit and you whimpered, you were so close it hurt a little and you just needed…

Jack curled his fingers up, hitting that sweet spot as he bit on the soft skin of your thigh and you came moaning his name, vision blacking out for a moment.

Overwhelmed, you opened your eyes weakly, meeting Jack’s gaze. He had moved from between your legs to lie next to you, drawing lazy circles on your belly and you could feel the hard edge of his cock against your thigh.

“How’s that for eliciting physiological responses?”

Jack flashed you a cheeky grin and you pulled him closer for a kiss as you rubbed him through his boxers, making him thrust against your hand and grunt. You knew he did it on purpose, seduce you while you were trying to explain your lecture points. He knew you’d be flushing all the way through your class tomorrow, trying not to think about this.

And how ironic it was that Jack just created a perfect example of stimulus equivalence and you couldn’t use it in class.

xxx

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #jack traven x reader #jack traven x you #keanu reeves imagine #speed fanfic #smut #keanu reeves x you #fanfic #I'm a behavior analysis nerd and I'm not even sorry

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mst3kproject · 5 years ago

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The Manster

Who has two thumbs and is back on terra firma with working wifi? This MSTie!

As for my chosen subject this week… I don’t think I have to justify this one. It’s called The Manster, as in a portmanteau of man and monster. It was directed by a guy who mostly made cheap-ass jungle movies, and stars a bunch of embarrassed actors who don’t know how they ended up here. It’s old and it’s dumb and it’s often pretty funny though never on purpose, and the perfect stinger moment comes very early in the film… you’ll know it when you see it.

So we have Dr. Robert Suzuki, who lives on top of a volcano. When people have ‘Dr’ in front of their names and live in isolation with a bunch of blinky light machines, that’s usually a pretty good clue that they’re mad scientists. Tragically our hero, Larry Stanford, is not that observant (Larry’s obliviousness would have been a constant target for Mike and the bots and he would have deserved all of it). He’s a reporter who wants an interview about Suzuki’s theories on the causes of mutations, but too bad for him, he arrives just as the mad doctor has run out of family members to experiment on. Under the influence of Suzuki’s injections he’s soon devolving into an animalistic frat-boy, drinking, carousing, and murdering… oh, and he’s growing a second head. Will that be a problem?

So basically this is a werewolf movie with a fake mustache on… or perhaps a Jekyll and Hyde movie of sorts, as discussed in the denouement. It wants to explore the dichotomy of good and evil in every one of us, using the very silly device of a two-headed man. I have to say, I understand the metaphor, but it wasn’t put to nearly good enough use. The movie would have been ten times more fun if we’d gotten to see Larry and his second head arguing over whether or not they’re going to kill somebody. Not better, mind you, just more fun.

As far as just being a movie goes, The Manster is better than a lot of things I’ve watched for this blog. The characters have names and look different enough that you can tell them apart, the story makes sense on its own terms and everything that happens is relevant to the plot. Photography is honestly pretty good and the actors are competent. All this happens to be in the service of a really silly story with awful special effects (I love Larry’s rubbery second head bouncing as he runs) but it’s engaging enough that you want to keep watching.

What I really like about The Manster, however, is that it offers a lot to analyze. I’m not sure much of it is intentional. The Jekyll and Hyde side of the story is elucidated in an ending speech, as Larry’s friend Ian tries to reassure Mrs. Stanford. He says there was good and evil in Larry, and they’ll just have to wait and see which side wins. This is not a very satisfying ending, really. We’ve just seen Larry’s evil side plummet to its death into a volcanic crater… and the surviving good side is under arrest as a serial killer. Dr. Suzuki and his assistant, the only people who could testify that Larry was not responsible for his actions, are both dead. This guy’s going to jail.

The really interesting thing in the movie, though, is one that comes up by accident. Dr. Suzuki’s work is on evolution – his theory is that cosmic rays can induce mutations, producing new species more or less overnight (this is called ‘macromutation’ or ‘the hopeful monster theory’, and lurked on the edges of the mainstream in the 40’s and 50’s) and he hopes to induce the same effect chemically. When he tries, however, his efforts invariably produce monsters. Emiko, his wife and former research partner, turns into something resembling the closet monster from The Brain that Wouldn’t Die. Kenji, his brother, turns into a yeti, and a similar fate awaits Larry. These mutants cannot understand human speech, and their behaviour is irrational and violent.

This implies a couple of things. We hear vague mentions of Dr. Suzuki experimenting on fungi, but his heart is mostly in his human experiments. That tells us that his goal is to speed up the evolution of humanity, and one presumes that this is intended to improve us somehow. Of course, this is not how evolution works. Evolution does not make things better – this is why biologists have mostly dropped the descriptions primitive and advanced in favour of the more neutral basal and derived. Dr. Suzuki’s quest is therefore quite misguided, as illustrated by his monsters. In no way could they be considered ‘better’ than humans – in fact, they’re significantly worse at surviving and reproducing (the thing natural selection selects for) than ordinary people are.

There’s another layer here, though. ‘Evolution makes things better’ is a misconception that’s been around since Darwin, and dates back to even earlier ways of organizing the natural world. When Linnaeus created the classification system for living things that we’re still saddled with today, he did it under the believe in the Great Chain of Being – the idea that you can order everything that exists into a hierarchy with mold at the bottom and god at the top, and that after god and the angels humans are the best thing that exists (as proved by our being the only creatures able to create classification systems). It’s an idea that appeals to human vanity and to our need to impose order on the natural world, and it isn’t likely to go away anytime soon.

With that in mind, perhaps there’s another reason Suzuki’s experiments fail. If you believe that humans are the best living thing around, particularly if you believe we are the image of god on earth, then maybe it’s not possible to improve on us. Any change you make to people that takes them away from humanity will automatically make them worse. This idea does appear to be manifest in the fates of Emiko, Kenji, and Larry, all of whom become more apelike, less ‘advanced’, as they change.

In that case, what does The Manster think makes for a good human? We see a little of Larry before he starts to mutate, so we can compare that with what he becomes. Rather surprisingly for a movie of this vintage, the fact that Larry is white seems to be pretty incidental. He is a foreigner in a faraway place, but this serves mostly to drive a wedge between him and his wife Linda. Except for a couple of rather troubling moments, the film does not present Japan in an exotifying light. We do see things like a bathhouse and a geisha bar, but these represent Larry’s personal slide into debauchery, rather than the country as a whole. We also meet normal working people among both the Japanese and the American expat community – reporters, police officers, and even priests.

There’s a very nice bit, actually, where Larry comes upon a Buddhist priest praying, and when he realizes this man doesn’t speak English, Larry takes the opportunity to unburden himself. It makes him feel better to talk about his moral quandaries aloud, and the fact that the priest doesn’t understand him means he cannot judge him. This is a very relatable and human moment, one of the best in the movie.

Unfortunately, it also segues into a couple of the most distasteful things in the film. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Larry does murder the priest, but before he does, he stares at a particular statue in the shrine – a representation of a three-eyed, fanged being that I am in no position to identify, although it looks a bit like Vajrapani. Before Larry grows a full second head he sprouts an extra eye in his shoulder, and the implication is that the three-eyed statue draws his attention to the monster within himself. I don’t know much about Buddhism but I do not like the idea of casting another culture’s religious figures as symbols of monstrosity. The west has done plenty enough of that.

But back to the question of acceptable humanity. We watch Larry get drunk, violent, antisocial, lazy, and promiscuous, which tells us that the ‘good’ man is the opposite of these things: sober, peaceful, friendly, hardworking, and chaste. The film pays particular attention to how Larry relates to women. The fact that he’s been faithful to his distant wife is established early on, and one of the first symptoms of his devolution is his willingness to discard her. First he makes out with a couple of girls at the geisha bar, and later he takes Dr. Suzuki’s assistant Terra (who has a tragic backstory but we frustratingly never find out what it entails) as his mistress. On the phone with his wife Linda at the beginning of the film, Larry tells her he loves her and promises to be home soon. Later, when she comes to Japan searching for him, he shouts at her and makes a show of preferring Terra.

One conversation he has with Linda is particularly revealing. He tells her he has no desire to settle down in one place and wile away his time drinking coffee and playing bridge when there’s a big wide world out there. She asks him what about her plans, and he declares he will ‘put her in her place’ and ‘slap her down’. Since this is when Larry is the opposite of what a good man should be, we can take from it that a good man respects his wife and takes her opinions and needs into account. For the late fifties, this is actually kind of surprising – I’ve seen films from a decade or two later that were far more backward about this. So hey, points for that.

All things considered, The Manster is a pretty well-made movie. It’s dumb and full of clichés, such as the man scientist destroyed by his own creation, the femme fatale who sacrifices herself for the hero because she’s fallen in love with him, theremin music to represent the monster’s appearance, etc etc etc… but it’s competently put together and whether intentionally or no, contains a lot of interesting material. It’s the sort of movie I can watch repeatedly and always find something new in. Definitely recommended viewing for the 50’s Monster Flick fan, although with the caveat that there is a scene in which one character urges another to commit suicide.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the manster #guys in gorilla suits #tw: suicide #50s

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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A New Family Member

Summary: Violet and Prisha visit the animal shelter to find their very own pet to bring home.

Read on A03:

“Shit, there’s so many of them,” Violet muttered as she and Prisha made their way through the halls of the cat wing of their local animal shelter. “How are we gonna choose?”

“I suppose we’ll pick whichever one we bond with,” Prisha replied, reaching a finger into one of the cages. The signs around the shelter warned against such behavior, but she’d quickly found the temptation too great to resist. The black cat inside the cage looked back at her through half-lidded eyes, too lazy to give her any greater attention.

“I don’t think bonding will be a problem.” Violet stood before a cage where two tabby kittens slept curled within each other’s’ arms. “It’ll be narrowing down our options, that’s the real challenge,”

A warm smile was on Prisha’s face as she looked at the tiny kittens. “They really are adorable. I think I’d prefer to adopt an older cat though. Kittens are likely in high demand. I’d rather give an older cat a new lease on life,”

“Sounds good,” Violet turned round, ready to leave the current room. “Besides, that way we won’t have to potty train it,”

They walked down the hallway, entering another room. Almost every kennel was full, some with more than one cat. They knew they should only adopt one cat today, but that didn’t stop the possibility of getting more from entering their minds. Some of the cats were friendly, coming up to the bars to rub against their fingers and purr loudly, while others wouldn’t even deign to give them the time of day. The parts of the shelter that didn’t house kennels had play areas where the cats could roam around. Entrance to those rooms was for staff only, but Violet and Prisha still enjoyed watching the various cats within those rooms. Scratching post towers and various feathered and jingling cat toys had the pair already thinking of all the things they could buy for their new furry companion.

As Violet stood in front of one of the viewing windows, she felt a warmth against her hand. Prisha intertwined their fingers, her thumb coming up to brush along the side of Violet’s hand. The gesture filled Violet with a warm sense of security. It had been a few months since Prisha had asked her to move in, but sometimes she still couldn’t believe it. Knowing she had someone who looked forward to waking up with her each and every morning had caused a shift within Violet’s thinking. She’d spent most of her life focused on the future, hoping against all odds that she’d find some sort of happiness while keeping her expectations and goals realistic to her circumstances. To be at a point in her life where the good things so drastically outweighed the bad was dizzying. Oftentimes she didn’t know what to do with herself. For now, Violet settled on giving Prisha’s hand a tiny squeeze in response.

The last room had fewer cats as most of them were currently in one of the playrooms. Prisha and Violet were the only ones in the room, quietly strolling down the length of the room checking each cage to see if they could spot a cat inside. They each had a mental checklist of cats they were interested in: a particularly rambunctious tabby that had taken an interest in Violet’s finger, a chill tortoiseshell who’d allowed Prisha to rub under her chin, a pair of striped cats that they knew they’d have to adopt together as one of the shelter volunteers had mentioned they were brothers… this room was simply a formality, a final check before they got down to brass tacks of who they’d be taking home. Violet was about to turn back around when she found herself face to face with a particularly large gray cat.

It stared back at her with bored neutrality, its tail lightly flicking against its thigh as it lay in the cat bed by the cage’s bars. At first Violet thought that one of the cat’s eyes was shut, but she soon realized that it only had one eye. She felt bad for the feline, but it didn’t seem to mind, grooming itself intently and running a paw over where the eye once was. Its good eye stared at Violet, evaluating her cautiously. The color of its eye was similar to Clementine’s, a funny thing to notice when considering a cat. She was about to move along when the cat let out the roughest, throatiest meow she’d ever heard. Violet paused, staring at the cat in confusion.

“What was that?” Prisha asked, making her way over beside Violet.

The cat looked at Prisha evenly and let out its chain smoker meow once more. It extended a paw towards them, yawning widely before its jaw snapped shut and it meowed again. It stood up and let its body flop against the bars of its cage. Hesitantly, Prisha reached out a finger, running it along the short gray fur. A sound like a rusty motor erupted from the cat. It curled its body round, twisting its head to observe them as Prisha continued petting it. Both girls found themselves oddly entranced by its gaze.

“What is this one’s name?” Prisha murmured absentmindedly, reaching up to stroke behind the cat’s ears.

Violet glanced at the disposable nameplate. “Smokey,” she snorted. “That’s a fucking dumb name,”

“We can definitely come up with something better than that,” Prisha agreed. “Can’t we… Lysander?”

“Lysander?”

“I’m assuming he’s a boy,”

“He is. But I’m not calling a cat Lysander. Besides, have you seen this thing? He’s trailer trash,” Violet gestured dismissively toward the purring feline.

Prisha gasped in mock indignation. Reaching up, she covered one of the cat’s ears. “Don’t listen to her, Lysander. She’s just jealous she didn’t think of such a noble name,”

Violet rolled her eyes. She was used to Prisha’s theatrics. Still, she wasn’t giving in on this one. “We should give him a name that matches his weird-ass meow. Like Gus or Meatball or… Fire Truck,”

“Really? You want to name him Fire Truck?”

“OK, I pulled that last one out of my ass,” Violet looked back at the cat, watching as he basked in Prisha’s affection. The nameplate said he was 8 years old, found down by Howe’s canal. Her old stomping grounds. This cat had clearly been through some shit in life, but here he was, ready to love on the first person who’d let him. It didn’t take a genius to see the parallels with her own life. This was definitely the cat for them, but what would they name him? Violet stared into the cat’s one eye, searching for inspiration. Suddenly it hit her. “Tubbs,”

“Tubbs,”

“Look at him,” Violet gestured to the cat, practically melting into Prisha’s touch, his belly hair sticking out from underneath the bars of the cage. “It’s perfect,”

Prisha gazed at him, ruminating over the matter. Finally she answered. “Alright. Sir Tubbs,”

Violet grinned as she watched her girlfriend and cat. “Now it’s perfect,”

Adopting Sir Tubbs was a fairly easy process. Before the hour was up, they were back in Prisha’s car with Sir Tubbs in a cardboard carrier, snoring loudly without a care in the world. According to the shelter workers, he’d been at the shelter for quite some time, several months at least. Prisha and Violet had been surprised when they told them that he wasn’t that friendly with most people, often sleeping the day away in the back of his cage, his apathy keeping him from being adopted. It made them feel special knowing they were the exception not the rule when it came to his behavior. In the end, it wasn’t up to them to choose a cat; Sir Tubbs had chosen them instead. They would make sure to give him the best life possible in return.

#twdg #fanfic #twdg prisha #twdg violet #twdg privet #twdg sir tubbs

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snoozejoon · 6 years ago

Text

Fools | Park Jimin

pairing: park jimin x black female oc (featuring jung hoseok)

genre: angst, cheating!jimin au

word count: 1.8k

ongoing series!

04 - APATHY

So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me?

Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead; rest in peace, my true love, whose life I took for granted. Most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness, her God is listening. Her heaven will be a love without betrayal.

Ashes, to ashes. Dust, to side chicks.

THE LESSON that Rosalie received from this experience the most, was that smiles hurt. When they are up for too long, when they shine in your dreams and haunt your nightmares. When they are forced, and even when they aren't. Smiles cause pain, even if your heart is the most joyous and content; even if those same smiles are from your very own. They hurt. More than you'd expect.

Of course, she hasn't forgiven him. His name only brought a scowl to her lips and a complete 360 on her happy mood, and she didn't know if that'll ever change. He still got to see his daughter, who was oblivious to their situation; she'd never want their daughter to suffer from a broken household. Her childhood had been a mere blueprint for her marriage so far, and she refused to let it affect Haeran.

This was depressing. She had to go on, day by day, faking happiness for a child that didn't know her mother was really broken. A child who only deserved love, so that was exactly what she'd receive. Even if her mother felt anything but lovely. She'd do her best to assure Haeran that she had an abundance of happiness; but Haeran - despite her young age - is no fool.

As small as her age is, she's still able to comprehend simple sadness. Simple tragedy. What her mother had been stricken with was much more than simple, perhaps, but Haeran comprehended enough to ensure that whatever her mother was, it wasn't happy. Sure, mommy still smiled, mommy still laughed and tickled Haeran so hard tears escaped her eyes, and sang her lullabies before bed. Mommy still acted as she always did; but mommy's hands were colder. Mommy's heart hurt. Haeran just couldn't see through her chest well enough.

“You’ve got this," Rosalie muttered to herself as she gripped her car's steering wheel and peered outside to see children running into the school's doors. Haeran looked outside her car window - as much as her short body would allow her - and then looked at her mother. Then her gaze drifted to her hands.

They were so tight against the wheel's leather, almost as if Rosalie could pull the whole thing off with one tug. Her breathing was calm, almost too calm for a Monday morning. Her hair was up in a lazy bun, barely resting upon her head. the bags underneath her eyes were poorly covered with makeup.

But once it was time for Haeran to exit and get into school, her mother turned to her with a warm smile, a kiss, and the usual tug on her most defined curl. If anything her behavior was just confusing. As if someone else had her mommy's smile, but that was all they could take from her.

"Have a good day at school, okay Haeranie? Mommy loves you." Haeran reluctantly unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned up on her knees from her seat to look her mother in the eye. She held her face, and narrowed her eyes, searching. For her mother behind this mask. School was about to start in the world that stood outside of the two of them, but then it was only Haeran, and her mother's eyes.

Rosalie chuckled lowly, confused at the young girl's actions. "Sweetie, what are you-" she reached for Haeran's hand but it left her face before she could get ahold of it.

"Nothing mommy,” the girl said meekly. “ I just thought i saw something on your face."

Rosalie confusedly stared at her daughter, knowing that she wasn't telling the complete truth, but not prying further. She knew that her daughter wasn’t dumb; as hard as she may have tried to be as normal as possible around her, she knew Haeran would slightly catch on. Her eyes cast down to Haeran's own, casting a questioning gaze but smiling as well. "Oh. thank you, baby."

When haeran nodded and let herself down, she heard her mother mutter quietly, along with a small break in between her words; almost as if her throat was sore or similar to her voice in the morning: tired and distressed. "Daddy picks you up today. Be a good girl for him, okay?”

At that, haeran nodded, smiling and waving a final goodbye to her mother, and opened the car door and set out into her daycare. One of her teachers were already waiting to guide her into the school. Haeran turns one last time to blow her mother a kiss and wave before finally walking alongside her homeroom teacher. Rosalie watches her daughter's walking figure retreat into her school before finally driving off.

Starving is an understatement for Hoseok. He's famished. On the literal brink of death if he doesn't consume food within the next hour. He marched into the nearest market with such a brisk pace, the wind from his footsteps blew his hair to the side. His destination was the noodle aisle; because he was too hungry to make anything that took longer than 20 minutes. Meaning: anything other than instant ramen. His footsteps move with an unexplainable urgency; but they halt when he sees Rosalie.

She wasn't doing anything at all. Just standing, staring at the the various brands of instant ramen without making an effort to choose a package. She was frowning deeply, with her hands still lying on her basket. Her hair is falling from a lazy ponytail; curls enshrouded her face, making her face appear smaller. She hasn't noticed him, but he greets her anyway.

"Hey, Rosalie!" he can tell he's started her, and immediately regrets being so loud when he sees how hard she jumped. She smiles when she sees him, and it strikes so many questions in his brain; it was as if the reaction was rehearsed. as if it was her go-to facade in place of what her real feelings would've been.

But it wasn't any of his business.

A hand was placed onto her chest as she composed herself, "Geez, Hobi. Startled me. But hi, how are you hun?" She turns around completely, giving him her full attention.

He frowns playfully, pushing his basket closer to hers, "You know I hate when you call me that. Makes me sound like an infant. I'm a grown ass man, Rosie." He mocked how she taught the phrase to him, his pronunciation on point.

She laughs at his remark, smiling widely, "I know, i just do it to mess with you." At this Hoseok rolls his eyes, reaching behind her to grab a package of beef flavored ramen; his favorite.

"Whatever. You've been in this aisle for a minute, why is your basket still empty?" He points in the basket's direction, raising a brow. She wasn't someone who shopped for long. When they first met, one of the first things he learned about her was that she had a phobia of stores, despite her constant rebuttals against that claim and saying she was merely uncomfortable in stores, he would always make his point seeing her shop faster than anyone he knew.

He sees discomfort pass through her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. "Um-" before she answered, a phone call interrupted her speech. A routine ringtone rang in her pocket, and her hand reached down to answer it. "One second," she said.

"Yeah, Juno?" Hoseok watched her face contort into discomfort again, but this time it stayed. "I'm on my way," she said, before ending the call.

She looked back up at hoseok, apologizing. "Sorry about that, something happened at the restaurant and I need to take care of it. I'll see you later, okay?"

He nods, "yeah, no problem." she's already leaving their shared aisle, but he says, "you're still coming to the gala the firm's holding, right? You and Jimin?"

He almost wishes he didn't even ask. Her eyes held a small trace of agony when she looked back at him.

"Yeah. Bye, Hobi."

The drive is nerve wracking; Juno wouldn't have called her if it wasn't something serious. Rosalie's calloused hand releases its grip on her steering wheel and rubs down her face, already ridden with facial creases from how hard she's been thinking. What more could she be punished with? She forced herself not to believe the worst; this restaurant was her everything. She remembered being so so happy when she first got approved to build it, Jimin wouldn't shut up about how smiley she was. Sales boomed immediately, people loved her clash of soul food and Korean barbecue. If anything happened to it, she'd be heartbroken. Another thing she'd failed at keeping together.

Her car finally arrives in front of the restaurant, the big "Rosie's Place" sign coming into view. It was closed already, and she saw Juno sitting on the small steps of the entrance with a two glasses in her fingertips and a bottle of wine in her other hand. When she sees Rosalie's worried face through her windows, she smiles gracefully, walking up to Rosalie's windows as she pulled them down slowly, confusion ripping through Rosalie harshly.

Rosalie's eyes narrow as she looks at her friend from outside her car, who wore the biggest smile. "Hi." she says it like a child, biting her lip with how hard she was smiling.

Juno can literally hear the wheels turning in rosie's head.

"Junie, whats with the wine?" She steps out, already taking out her key from her purse to unlock the restaurant's doors, "and what exactly happened here that you needed to call me?"

She didn't catch Juno's shrug, but she caught everything else; her little dance of sudden happiness as she stepped towards rosalie. "Nothing. but I knew you'd need a day, and, I — like a good friend, came through. Knowing you, you'd want to be in the place you love the most, next to your house — and you definitely don't want to be there, so I thought i'd invite you here."

Rosalie can't help the gratitude growing inside her, and Juno does another one of her happy dances when she sees her reaction. Immediately dragging rosalie to the room after she unlocks it, Rosalie couldn't help her child-like giggles seeing Juno actually run towards the karaoke room. "We can have the karaoke room to ourselves! Cmonnnn, Rosie, you need this! No one's here but me, and I'll let you scream all you want, that's what the wine's for."

The karaoke room was always a small, secluded space for guests that knew their voices were... worse than most. Soundproof walls were an amazing plus, and Rosalie will probably thank herself later, because she was so drunk and so ... loud. She could hold a tune, but none of that mattered while drunk. Nothing did. All rosalie felt in that room with her best friend was the jewelry she wore that day, in an effort to impress the world and tell it that she was okay — although no one was really listening. But she felt like it was real, then. That everything was.

Rosalie could barely remember the last time she let a swear word slip before what happened with Jimin; a toddler shouldn't be around such words. But everyone of them ripped through her tonight. In Korean, English, French, Spanish. Any language she could communicate in, she let the degradation of Jimin roar. Juno clapped her hands with glee as she listened, being drunk as well.

A microphone seemed to be her saving grace, because it voiced her fuck him's and fuck her too's louder than she could, and that was all she wanted then. For someone other than herself to see her pain. For something to happen the way she wanted it to, because hell — didn't she deserve it?

Yes. I deserve it. I know I do.

So nothing stopped her as her voice was raised to octaves she never even knew she could possibly hit, nothing stopped her from taking swig after swig and seeing stars — the alternative for her marriage life. Nothing forbade her from crying after realizing she'd have such a terrible time explaining this in the morning; and absolutely nothing stopped her ferocious laughter when she realized she didn't care at all.

Juno has been asleep; it wasn't her fault rosalie decided to get the most comfortable chairs in the world for this small ass room and definitely not her fault for being a lightweight. Rosalie however, doesn't even hear her snores, being too busy indulging in her pain in search of sheer happiness.

She still doesn't know what exactly told her brain to swipe hoseok's name on her phone either.

Jimin loved the sea. As a child, it was his most desired place to be; crashing waves and salted hair were the things that roamed his heartbeats every summer, so naturally, Haeran loved it just as much. To say that her father was an admired figure in her life was such an under exaggeration of what he really was to her. Her father never seemed to fall from perfection; he could literally do no wrong to have her change her views of him. He was a savior, the smile she was most proud to share — but she loved her mother's cheekbones — and her most favorite laugh always came from him. He was her best friend.

Jimin knew this. Just by looking at her: prancing around in the sand, getting her hair wet in the waves and not worrying about washing it because daddy can do it now. She lets the sea carry her, all while falling back into his arms when it was time to go home. To mommy.

But why was he so ... not happy today? Better yet — why was her mommy unhappy too? Why wasn't anyone happy anymore?

Haeran finally decided after playing around and begging her father to chase her that she'd had enough. Whatever dark cloud above her parent's heads had better be gone by the time she was through. She walked determinedly to where her father sat; he held a dampened towel in one hand and a hair scrunchie in the other, doing nothing, looking sad. "Daddy."

She said it jokingly, trying to startle him. Instead she got attitude. His eyes cut to her harshly, whatever she did interrupted whatever he was thinking about so deeply. "What, haeran?" he notices a pout immediately, "A-are you ready to go already?" He opens the towel up but she doesn't step into it.

She crossed her arms and shook her head, "no, daddy. I want answers. Why are you so sad? This is the place you like too, you should smile!" She reaches up to him and pulls at his cheeks, making a makeshift smile, "Like this. see?" she gets even more frustrated when he says nothing and removes her hands, "Dad-dy. why are you so sad? What did haeranie do?"

That's when his eyes finally connect with hers, regret and remorse filling jimin's mind immediately. What did she do? What did she do to hinder his kindness? Was this her fault?

"No," Jimin reaches for her face, locking their eyes firmly. "You did nothing, Haeran. Nothing, baby. Nothing. This is daddy's fault. Not yours, not mommy. Daddy." He pulls her into him closer than she expected; his clothes dampen when they make contact with her wet body.

When she hears this, another question is sparked, "Why? why would you make mommy sad? Mommy always wants you to be happy, why would you make her cry? She cried today. She doesn't think I know, but I do. I know everything." She removes herself from his tight hold and looks up at him, her eyes reflecting Jimin's exact feelings.

Despair, confusion. Discontent. She wanted to know why, too.

“Why would you do something like this over her?!”

Haeran could never have a question and be satisfied when it isn't answered completely, she always yearned for a complete understanding. He could smother the situation all he wanted, but Haeran would always find a way to bend it so that she could understand. He'd admit, it was an admirable trait. An annoying, admirable trait.

He sighs. "I know, Haeranie. Daddy made her sad because..." he swears he sees the waters retreat from him for a while, because did he know either? What was the reason? What could ever validate betraying your wife? The one that loved him with everything she knew? The one that would sit and bleed out her adoration for him with mere words?

Nothing.

"...Because daddy lost his mind." It was a phrase they both knew from Rosalie early on, he almost refrained from using it. Perhaps he doesn't even have that right.

Haeran blinks. That was it? "Well. Uh, let's find it? I'll help you daddy, don't worry! Before mommy gets even more sad. And it'll be found quicker, with the both of us!" She smiles up at him then, a solution was finally found, and everything would be okay.

Instead, Jimin feels tears well up as he looks at his daughter expressing her unwavering love for her parents. His hand strokes her hair, pulling her into an even tighter hug, earning a joyous laugh from his daughter in his embrace.

"Thank you," he says, a tear escaping his eye and landing into her hair, "I'd appreciate that.”

#jimin angst #jimin fic #jimin #jimin ambw #cheating #cheating!jimin au #hoseok fic #hoseok #hoseok ambw #bts #bts fic #bts ambw #bts fanfction #kpop fanfiction #kpop poc

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witchling13 · 6 years ago

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The time has come!

I am posting Chapter 1 of Her Cadre below.

You can also find it on Ao3 here or search for my name live_manon.

I split it into three chapters because I’m forcing myself to stop editing it and just live and let live. Chapter 1 is primarily build-up because I got a little carried away with the storyline, but I think it makes the whole fic more enjoyable in the long run. Chapter 2 (and chapter 3 if I finish it) are exclusively sex and it gets very lemon. I will be posting those soon. Guys, when I typed the whole thing out on Word it’s over 36 pages long....and chapter 1 is the smallest part! *fans face

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

Fenrys chuckled as he entered the main bed chamber of the suite and spied the largest bed he’d ever seen lining the back wall. The ridiculous amount of fanciful throw pillows and fluffy duvet cover had been removed and placed neatly on the adjacent decorative chairs.

As promised, there was ale and fairy wine with plates of fruits, meats, and cheeses on the three large ottomans in front of the oversized fireplace. A roaring fire crackled in the grate.

He examined the bed again. It was wide enough to sleep six grown men across.

If Rowan and Aelin had a similar one in their chambers, why the hell did they ever leave? In this weather, he’d bury himself in the mounds of covers and sleep or read all day— preferably not alone…with breaks for other pleasurable activities.

So this was the Stag Suite.

It was one of those palace secret compartments very few knew existed and even fewer knew how to access. Designed as a getaway chamber primarily for the King and Queen of Terrasan, the suite was at the top of the West Tower and outfitted with an excess of luxury comforts.

Rowan stood on the balcony overlooking the forest. There was eleven feet of snow on the ground not including the two feet of fresh powder that had fallen overnight. A big storm had moved in nearly two weeks ago, the remnants of which still feathering the countryside in a constant blanket of white. All of their latest attempts at regular travel and communication had proved futile.

Fenrys slid a hand along the soft white sheets of the bed. He was tired of playing chess and easily besting the Queen’s guard in competitive wrestling matches. And wandering around the castle in his wolf form. Although Aelin or Evangeline came to accompany him often. The little girl had taken a liking to exploring the castle while riding atop his wolf’s back.

The quiet feet of a female escort reached his side, inquiring if Fenrys wanted to begin with a massage. She smiled and he eyed her appreciatively. Her long gauzy tunic did little to hide her shapely figure and intricate undergarments underneath.

She was pretty. Very pretty.

Fenrys hauled his wool-lined tunic over his shoulders. The chamber was warm and he was tired and his limbs a bit frozen from scouting the countryside. He and Rowan had shifted and left the castle grounds during a brief respite of snowfall to check on nearby towns and villages.

He stretched his neck sideways. Infinite points of approval for Aelin’s idea of relaxation ”preparation.”

Of course, the few women in attendance had volunteered and would be paid well beyond what they charged for their services. Ever since they had returned from their latest visit to the Kaghan’s court on the Southern Continent, Aelin had discreetly removed the ban on escort services in Orynth. It was a trial, of sorts, to allow those who chose the profession willingly to make money under consensual circumstances but included strictly enforced laws on safety and fair treatment. The law also banned brothels or pleasure houses in hopes they wouldn’t pop up in the rebuilding city.

Fenrys wouldn’t be able to stomach it otherwise.

He shoved the thoughts away, declining the linen breeches she offered him, opting to lounge naked on a chair in front of the fire to sip on some ale and thaw himself.

Rowan returned to observing the sunset over the treeline, a cup of wine in one hand. He drank to ease his brooding.

The truth was, the whole inner court had become intimate—friends. Or at least, that’s what they told themselves.

Several years had passed since the war against Maeve and Erawan and Aelin’s blood-sworn cadre including Lysandra and Elide had become a devoted family. The demands on the inner court for decision making and coveted attention from nobility kept them consistently convening together in Orynth.

But the winters in Terrasen were long and hard. During bad weather, such as this godsforsaken blizzard, they were often confined to the castle grounds.

The result being they spent a lot of time together. It was easy to go a little stir crazy, the Fae in particular. But the pranks made that bearable.

Rowan tried to suppress his smile as he remembered last Mid-Winter’s Eve when Fenrys and Aedion had somehow dressed a piss drunk Lorcan in a tutu and tights and dumped his incoherent ass in a pile of hay in the royal stables.

He inhaled. But this.

This was a whole new level of “intimate.”

Why couldn’t it have stayed a simple game of strip poker.

He sighed in slight amusement remembering just how well that had played out last night. Drunken words, naked bodies, and playful touches. The males had become experts at dancing around the feelings and desires that pushed the boundaries of devotion to their queen.

Rowan looked towards the chamber entry way. Aelin had arrived, Lorcan, Elide, and Manon in tow. Followed by two lovely escorts in long sheer tunics and a servant bearing a small trunk, a few books, and a mysteriously sealed black box.

Rowan kissed her on the forehead, “how long are you planning to be here?”

“I thought I’d come prepared. You males may be comfortable walking around naked whenever it suits you, but I prefer my silky adornments to appease my inner goddess,” she batted her eyelashes, “don’t worry, I didn’t bring the gold one.”

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Truth was, he didn’t care what she wore. Nothing made him happier than Aelin’s pleasure after all she had sacrificed.

He drew her into his side and bent to murmur in her ear, “presumptuous of you to think you’ll have a chance to dress up at all…or that you get to decide when to put your clothes back on.”

It was like a weight dropped straight to her mound. A thrill of desire wound tight in her core from the anticipation that had been building since their group “discussion.” They’d come to an arrangement with a few stipulations and she’d be damned if she didn’t allow them to pleasure her and take their fill until the satisfaction drowned them all.

Manon had come from the Wastes for a trade agreement meeting over a week ago when the snow storm hit. She and Abraxos had the misfortune of being cooped up, drunk under the table, and even serenaded from this lot over their stay.

Fortunately, for Aelin, Manon’s “evolving friendship” with Elide had been enticing enough to prompt the witch to accompany her beloved friend tonight.

They’d all observed the two women’s suppressed attraction to each other over the past few years, even Lorcan, and wondered when on earth either one of them would get a clue and make a move. Not that Manon and Elide would want their other respective relationships to be affected long-term, it seemed. They just enjoyed each other’s company, and Lorcan thought there was little reason for them to hold back when they happened to be visiting and spending some quality time together.

Whatever made Elide happy made Lorcan very happy. There was no issue, only pleasure.

Elide was surprised with herself at how eager she was to come here with them both. She’d teased Lorcan as they shared breath amongst their pillows the night before, “I know you hold back with me sometimes so don’t think I won’t thoroughly enjoy seeing you come undone.” She meant his tendency to be dominant and make love to her until she was incoherent didn’t afford her as many opportunities to see him in such a state.

Aelin asked the servant to diffuse some jasmine and lavender oils in all the suite’s rooms for relaxation as she, procured a large piece of cheese and shoved it into her mouth.

Rowan chuckled as her cheeks bulged with the large bite.

“I didfnt havfe lunch.”

“Why not, my love?”

She swallowed. “I was too busy concocting lies about my inner court’s absence from meetings tonight to remember.”

Rowan drew her close and laid broad hands on her shoulders, kneading away some of the tension.

She sighed in contentment, continuing to stuff her mouth with food. Fenrys glanced up at her from the chair.

“I see you’re quite comfortable already.”

“My balls are quite toasty now, thanks for asking.” He smiled and reached up, undoubtedly asking for a chunk of cheese. She swatted his hand away.

“There’s a full platter right in front of your lazy ass.”

He chuckled and she reached a hand to run her fingers through his short hair.

“And what did I do to earn this petting?”

“Simply being my favorite Moonbeam.”

He smiled again, “I’m your only Moonbeam,” and winked up at her, “but I thank you, my Queen, lover of such fine things—like myself.”

Rowan hid his amusement.

“Unbutton me?”

She half turned to the male behind her, placing a hand on his chest before angling her head so he could claim a soft kiss.

“With pleasure.”

She let her gown slip to the floor in a heap and kissed him again in thanks before striding away to the bed, claiming a large piece of fruit on her way.

Fenrys watched her intently. Prancing around in her lacy undergarments in front of them all like it was the easiest thing in the world. He’d seen her naked many times before, but the more he watched her happiness grow as Queen, the less the horrific memories plagued him. Aelin was whole and healing now and being in her court had redeemed his own sense of comfort. Of home.

His mind drifted while he watched her stretch her torso and lean arms over her head. There were still parts of her he hadn’t seen. Her soft blond hair had concealed them at the time. The opening in her mound…the delicate lay of her folds that probably peaked out from the slit. He wondered if they were just a deeper shade of pink than the peaks of her breasts. His cock began to harden.

A hand interrupted his thoughts and he welcomed the escort’s skilled ministrations to his neck and shoulders. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his lap and a smile lit her eyes as she used deft thumbs to press along his neck muscles.

The sun had set fully now. The relaxing smells of lavender and jasmine, fragrant in the air, were accompanied by something else. Something that hinted at spice and stirred up desire.

Lorcan hadn’t even bothered with a hello before stripping bare and lying face down on the bed. His head was in Elide’s lap and she toyed with his jet black hair and points of his ears as a pretty escort rubbed hands along his oil soaked back.

Except for the crackle of the large fire, it was quiet, but the air was charged with anticipation and the scents of their arousal.

Aelin stopped at the side of the bed and dragged a lazy finger up the back of Lorcan’s massive hamstring until it halted below his ass. He growled low. “Lorcan dear, in our rush to get here, you didn’t say hello.”

He waited a moment. On his own time then.

“Hello.” He ground out into Elide’s trousers.

Aelin’s finger hovered, drawing small circles on his war-toned muscle.

“It’s nice to see you too grumpy face.”

Despite the tumultuous nature of their relationship, Lorcan had softened to Aelin while being in her court, and she to him. She imagined he was like that teenage older brother she’d never had as a child. Except he wasn’t. He was dark and menacing with a bravado and sultry eyes that mesmerized even her.

“You keep drawing circles like that and I’ll bite that finger off. And it will never grow back.”

It was Elide who suppressed a chuckle.

Aelin scowled. “I haven’t seen you for days and your literal first voluntary words to me are a threat to maim my royal hand.”

His hurumph was muffled, but he turned his head to look up at her as she moved to hover over his shoulder, “royal hand, royal pain in my ass,” he sighed. Then roamed her body with his eyes, narrowing on her undergarments.

“Those look expensive.” She saw the glint of desire in his expression and heard the unspoken words. Better take them off before we get to them first.

Her skin prickled under the intensity of his attention. She squeezed his hand and brushed his shoulder as she leaned in to kiss Elide lightly on her cheeks. The girl smiled amused and returned the gesture.

“Care to join me in the birchin, Manon?”

Manon sat observing behind them, both arms splayed across the back of chair.

“What’s a birchin?”

“The small chamber in the bathing room heated by a stove with hot rocks. It’ll make you sweat your worries away.” She wiggled her eyebrows and Manon stared at her confused.

Aelin shrugged. “I read about it in a book and it sounded exotic, so I had it installed.”

She had indeed, been reading her new favorite series A Court of Thorns and Roses and several scenes conjured up delightful images of her cadre all piled in a birchin sweating their asses off. She had yet to convince them to try it out, but the few occasions she’d used it herself after training sessions had been extremely relaxing.

Manon sighed and rose, arching her back in a stretch. “What can it hurt. Better than sitting here stewing in all your scents.”

Rowan had taken a big chair by the fire next to Fenrys and stripped except for the linen pants offered by an escort. He closed his eyes as the shapely brunette rolled up his pants to the knee and worked his tight calves and shins. Her hands were firm, but skilled and her long hair hung loose, tantalizing his skin as she worked.

Passing them on the way to the bathing room, Aelin halted. She inspected the beauty in Fenrys lap, the gentle eyed woman winding her fingers through his hair and grinning wide at his flirtatious whispers, no doubt, promising and skillful. Aelin was surprised at the possessive twinge that hit her heart.

He was fine. He was in good hands. Even if she felt she had every right to be just as protective of the male as he was her.

She squeezed Rowan’s shoulder, sliding her hand down his chest until it drifted lower on his bare abdomen and the tips of her fingers slid under his loose waistband. She leaned down and kissed his neck.

“Be good. I’ll be done soon.” She inclined her head towards the bathing room.

He growled and the fingers of his hand reaching around the back of her thigh dug into her soft skin.

“Soon is quite a promise considering your bathing habits.”

There was need in his grip.

“Pushy, pushy,” she smirked into his lips as she kissed him one more time. “This one,” Aelin pointed at Rowan as she rose and spoke to the escort, “is all talk. If you want him to be quiet, tickle the back of his knees.”

“Aelin--,” he growled again.

“Or lick up the lines of his war-honed abs. Whatever seems best to you.” She waived a hand in the air dismissively, scampering out of the way as he reached for her. His eyes followed her into the bathing room, hips swaying, until she was out of sight and Manon followed, unceremoniously stripping as she walked.

————

A half hour later, Aelin emerged, hair towel dried from the quick dip in the bath they’d taken to wash off the sweat from the birchin. Manon had donned a plush white robe, but Aelin had simply wrapped a short towel around her torso.

She strode to the oversized chase lounge where Rowan’s strong, sinewy body lay face down in the pillows, dozing after surrendering to a fully body massage.

Aelin climbed up his back and kissed his tan face. “Enjoy your nap?” As he stirred, she moved to sit on his backside so she could sweep her hands from his shoulder blades down the groove of his spine.

“You smell good,” he mumbled.

“Thank you. I used your soap because I forgot we ran out of mine last time we were here.”

Rowan grunted. With no hesitation, he shifted, toppling her into the blankets and rolling so he hovered over her face on his forearms. His lips were an inch from hers and the weight of his abdomen and legs pressed fully into her body. The heat radiating from his skin and breath made her heart pound.

“Use it always.”

He kissed her deeply and she opened for him, melting into the pillows as his tongue tasted her own.

Aelin’s hand clutched his back as the other drifted into his hair. He slid a hand down her curves until he found her thigh and pulled it to the side so he could settle between her legs.

She sucked in a breath.

He was naked and his cock was fully erect brushing against her towel. With one shift, he could push up the edge of the flimsy fabric and slide into her welcoming heat.

But he had something else in mind; something they needed to prepare for later.

And it was time to play.

--------

@theilliumbluebell10 @highladyofherondale @running-with-thieves @lestrangelady20 @fantasylover1996

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boogiewrites · 6 years ago

Text

Choking On Sapphires 27

Title & Song: Livin’ In Sin

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 3900+

Summary: They wake up together after their first night spent together. It would seem the theme from the night before has continued on into the next morning.

Warnings/Tags: Sex. Explicit Sexual Content. Language/ Dirty Talk.

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Livin’ In Sin by Dan Auerbach. It’s all sex guys. Not gonna hide the fact that this is 4000 words of smut.

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-26)

He wakes up next to you in the biggest bed he's ever slept in. He was pulling himself from a dream about you. He was looking for you, he kept hearing you saying his name. But as he rubs his eyes and looks over at you, he realizes you'd been saying his name in your sleep and it's woken him up. He brings his arms up in a stretch, settling his hands behind his head, taking in the sight before him.

You were sleeping on your stomach, hands near your face, arms out just enough for him to see the curve of your breast underneath you. Your hair loose and wild, going down your back, almost reaching your bum, some thrown haphazardly above your head onto the pillows. Your face was uncovered except for the tips of your fingers near your mouth, where his attention was being drawn to. Your lips puff out in an exhale of his name. He feels his heart and his cock stir, withdrawing a noisy sigh from his lips.

Your brow twitches and furrows, your back arches and you let out a tiny grunt of a moan, his eyes go back to half-lidded after trying to wake up. He moves closer, you stir but only moan in a high pitched, sweet little sound. His hand reaches out, his fingers lightly tracing down your back and to your thighs. Your hips move, your ass being pushed back towards him slightly as a little gasp escapes your lips. He hums greedily at the sound. Your shoulders shift, your face moving away from him, giving him your back, he grins wolfishly, sliding in behind you.

Your nose twitches as your eyes think about opening. You are are stumbling out of a rather steamy dream when you start to notice how warm you feel. You stretch and grunt finding big lean arms around your stomach and over your head. As you shift he moves an arm under your head.

"Mmmph." you offer as a greeting. You shift your hips, to settle back into the covers as you feel an unmistakable heat resting between the cheeks of your ass and you hum in amusement. No wonder that dream had gotten particularly hot.

"You talk in ya sleep a lot?" he whispers, his voice still full of grit from sleep, in a slow delivery that adds a certain sauciness to anything said in it.

"Mmm?" you ask, rolling onto your back to look up at him, moving your hair out of the way.

"You were sayin' my name in yer sleep." he rumbles out, a lazy smile, clearly caused by his words comes across unfiltered on your face.

"I was dreamin' 'bout you." you mumble, fingers moving to fuss with his wild hair, sticking out in every direction, it looks charmingly boyish and you hum at how it makes your breath hitch for a moment as you become aware of Alfie's large hand on your stomach.

"I could tell." he says in the same tone that makes you take a slow inhale. His eyes move from yours to your lips, zigzagging across your body until they reach the hair at the apex of your thighs. The fingers on his hand twitch.

"Could you tell how well you were fucking me by my words in my sleep?" you ask, face moving in a slow and sultry way towards him.

"You just said my name," he informs, his eyes watching his hand move down your stomach. "But those saucy little moans told me I weren't doing too bad." he drags out the word, fingers playing in your curls for a moment before his fingertips trace up your inner thighs. You hum at the detour he's taken with a smug look on your face.

"Mornin' sex something you fancy often?" you ask, licking your lips.

"When I wake up to somefin' like this moanin' me name ya betta fuckin' believe I fancy it." he playful growls into your neck, you let out a breathy laugh as his words to kisses against your skin.

He slides his fingers between your thighs, wiggling them down to your lips, making your thighs rub together as he tickled you unintentionally. "C'mon luv," he groans in that deep tone that he's learning you love. He knocks your knees apart with his hand. "Ya know ya ain't gonna regret spreadin' these legs as long as I'm between 'em, eh?" his teeth graze across your jaw and you hum an indulgent moan.

"Keep provin' yourself right." you say with an amused sound, "But you have left me proper sore from last night, darling." you say in a sigh, raising up on your elbow on your side to face him. His fingers still search out the crease in your thigh, his thumb pushing against your sensitive lips.

"Oh I can be gentle, sweetheart." he says leaning in to kiss you as his hand moves to cup you, slowly massaging your sore muscles.

"I appreciate the gesture but gentle's not really what I need." you say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. His eyebrows raise, looking you over, highly curious look on his face. You yank the covers off of both of you, you bite your lip at the sight of his cock twitch as you turn to crawl towards him.

"What's this now?"

"Stick out your tongue." you instruct in a sweet tone, moving pillows around his head, your breasts hanging about his face as he nips at one as you move and chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"Am I allowed to ask why?" he asks, his charming grin with shown teeth as his eyes keep you in their crosshairs.

You speak as you move to straddle his chest, earning a very deep grunt from him. You sit perched, your hands running slowly up and down your body from your thighs to chest, shifting your hips slightly and rolling your nipples in your fingers. The look in his eyes is hungry and you're here to oblige.

"Why? Because your fat cock has left this poor dear sore from that proper fucking you gave her last night," you say in a delightfully pouty sort of way, a single fingertip tapping the tip of his nose and running slowly down his lips and to his chest. "That's why. So now, I'm going to sit on that handsome face and you're gonna lap up this cunt until I'm ready to take on that thick prick of yours again." you say with no hesitancy, no shyness, and just the bold tone in your knowing that he would do what you were saying.

"Fuck me." he whispers, the words dragging out, full of hitches and grit. His expression giving away how much pleasure he took from the sound of your words. The filthy plans pouring out of your mouth and down over him like the burn of good alcohol make his cock twitch and his mouth drop open. His eyes, wide but dark languidly take in the sight of your feminine face saying such aggressive things and with such certainty that he would obey. What had he done to deserve this, he wondered? Your confidence never lacking, you were performing in a way, and for no reason other than your own enjoyment, at a higher tier than women he'd ever paid for similar services. Perhaps what he'd really been missing with those women, was the genuine enthusiasm for the task. He was thankful to be having sex again without the thought of money being involved at all.

His hands groped up your body, grabbing a handful of your ass roughly, his lip bitten as he groans from the ache of your words rolling over him, just like his hips were subconsciously doing. His eyes look slightly dazed as they show signs of weakness he isn't bothering hiding from you.

"I intend to." you say in a hushed, entirely too sweet tone, smirking at him.

His arms reach behind you and grab you, yanking you down the rest of the way onto his face, your hands hitting the headboard to catch yourself. He makes contact with a ravenous growl that makes a blush comes across your face.

You lean back, his hands groping your ass as your knees are spread beside his head. You can see those pouty lips, overshadowed by a wicked tongue that sweeps broad and slowly up and down your center. Your breath hitches, the aggression lost in your eyes for now. You lean up, holding yourself over his face, your thighs on his cheeks, his hands kneading your hips as his eyes shut and his tongue went to work. He flicked your clit, moving down to suck and maneuver his tongue into the soreness he'd happily left in his wake from the night before. He hears a slight gasp from you.

"Mmm sore cheri, remember?" you moan softly out, hands holding your breasts as your chest starts to rise and fall more noticeably. "Clit first, then you'll get to eat it." you say in a seductively teasing tone, your fingers gently tracing over the planes of his face that were exposed to you still.

"Mmmm." you hear in response, heading back to your clit as your thighs seize around his head for a moment. He lets out a dark and content growl, those soft lips suctioned around your clit, making your hands shake, sending them back to the headboard. His hands move up to your breasts, you're met with more hungry fast head motions and broad licks across your throbbing center as he pinches and flicks his way to make you moan out his name.

"Your tongue." you whine. "Fuck me with your-" he obeys before you clear the command, a slow process he excelled at. You give him a back arching moan in return for his obedience, his eyes fluttering behind their lids as you moved against his face. Your hand moves on top of his on your breast, your other hand holding his messy hair tightly at the crown causing a harsh smack to your ass from him, and an enthusiastic wet sucking noise from his tongue being exactly where you needed it. "That's a good boy." you hum devilishly with your lip bitten between your teeth, hips rocking against his face, hair tightly gripped in your hand. He moans, panting against your clit, hands still kneading away at you like dough, with the occasional slap and growl thrown in when you'd shudder.

He's enveloped in heaven between your legs. The muscle of your ass serving a perfect grip to move you back and forth as you moaned his name so softly as if you had delicate sensibilities he could offend. The vibrations from his growls make you shudder as you mewled and tightened your grip on his hair.

"Keep that fucking tongue out." you whine above him, your hands trembling in his hair, your thighs squeeze his head again and he digs deeper inside you, knowing you're close as he feels you getting tighter around him. You have that sharp intake of breath right before you're about to tumble over the edge, you let out a whispered string of swears. As the rhythm in your hips starts to flutter and you call out his name as if to warn him. He holds you tightly against him, your hands reaching down to hold his wrists as your hips bucked against him as he manipulated the pleasure out of you.

His eyes flutter open as your hips slow to a lazy indulgent roll, his lips now kissing your inner thighs, sucking the sensitive skin and popping his mouth off of you. "Lucky me your words aren't the only thing that mouth is good at." you say, a praising smile on your face, holding his gaze before letting out a noisy exhale. You roll off of him swiftly, landing on your knees and quickly moving with a hop on the soft sheets back towards him. He's distracted by the way your heavy breasts knock together as you lean in towards him. "You've been a good boy, haven't you Alfie?" you purr, crawling on top of him, your hips just above his.

"I'm gonna choose to lie and say I 'ave." he says with a cocky grin. You hum happily at him, a nod with the bitten lip of amusement for him. Your fingers tracing his lips and wiping his beard. Your fingers bury themselves in the scruff as you kiss him with purpose.

"Smart man. Good boys get rewards." you whisper against his lips before nipping at the bottom one. He lets out a low ill-intentioned laugh.

"Then I best get to behavin', eh?" he says with a cheeky shake of his head and you grin at him, kissing him again, his hands moving to your hips. You place lingering wet kisses on his lips where they are met with content hums. You suck down in sensitive places across his neck and down his chest, following a downward path that seems to make his ache inducing moans to grow louder. Your hands move slowly across his torso as you kiss your way down him to his hip bones, fingers grazing over his nipples and dragging down his ribs. You push off of him, to crawl backward on all fours down him, much to his delight as his knees wiggle, eyes drunkenly taking you in as you slowly drag your breasts across him, across his hot, twitching cock as you moved between his legs. You kiss the inside of his knee as he tilts his head down at you, his lip not moving from between his teeth as he grunts when your lips graze the touch starved skin of his inner thighs. You run your hands up and down them, up to his hips to calm the twitching muscles. He groans your name as you look up your lashes as him, mouth hovering over his straining length.

You wouldn't say you're someone who got hung up about the size of someone's cock that you were sleeping with. But now that you got to indulge yourself fully, taking in every velvety bit of him with your eyes as you let your breath carry over him. This causes him to twitch as he bounces against your lips and you let out a small amused hum at him that makes him grunt impatiently. You were always more excited when your partner had more girth to offer and that certainly seemed to be what you were getting your mouth around this morning. Seeing as you don't believe your fingers would be able to touch if they tried to get around him. What you were even more excited for than the stretch he had to offer, was the curve of him. As he stood pulsing at attention, you imagine that this magnificent instrument of his was going to make a fool of you once you got on top of it. You weren't even sure if you could handle having a cock that hit all your spots that also has a man attached that has the ability to respect you. You become very aware of your pulse pounding between your legs.

You dip your head to place your hands and mouth on his balls, as his eyes roll back in his head, head knocking back against pillows. You settle, ass up, nose buried at the base of his cock as he swears in inventive ways as your tongue lazily drags back and forth across his balls, other hand splayed and rubbing up to his stomach and chest.

As you make your way up his length with your hyperextended tongue, his eyes darken and focus on yours. "Oh he liked that, didn't he?" you purr in a low tone, lips ghosting across the hardness as you speak, his hips threatening to buck. "You are throbbing and you are not even in my mouth yet." you say in an almost patronizing tone as you take the tip of him in, one hand resting at the base of him, the other still cupping his balls.

"Fuckin' 'ell Genevieve." he groans out, muscles in his stomach rolling as his hips wanted to roll with them.

You take him entirely down slowly, his hands moving and grabbing the sheets. You add your hand to the motions, tugging and sucking at him in unison as he swears under his breath, his hips thrusting up. You slide him messily out of your mouth, looking back into his eyes. "Use your hands." your lips on the head of his cock, you murmur against him as you take his hand and put it in your hair. He takes your suggestion very seriously as he starts to slowly move your head, hips sliding himself in and out of you, almost frictionless as his growls grow louder and his hips go faster. He pulls you off with one hand fisting your hair as you gasp and your eyes flutter open, Your mouth open and panting, tongue still stuck out of your mouth. A sinful smile spreading across your face of a woman who was entirely enjoying herself. That gleam in your eye, this obscene behavior from you from was enough to make him dizzy.

"Dirty girl.' he groans, giving your head a slight shake by your hair. You bite your lip and wrinkle your nose with a nod in a fiesty rebuttal, licking your lips and sliding loose of his grip. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, expanding the space between the two of you. You grab his legs behind the knee and yank him farther down the bed, his cock bouncing at the motion. "Well fuck me, Genny." he mumbles, hands landing back on the bed eyes wide at your strength as you giggle girlishly as your stalk like a jungle cat towards him.

"C'mere handsome." you say with a nod, straddling him, rubbing your soaking, aching center across the hard length of him.

"Fuckin' gorgeous creature, you are." he rasps out, his hands running up your thighs to your breasts. You purr in content at him, eyes almost sweet as you reach between your legs, guiding the head of him into you. He swears quietly, as he watches you take him inside you. Your mouth, wet and pink and open, lips trembling as you let out small breathy moans as you lowered yourself onto him.

You hum and pulse your hips, eyes opening again as you settle against him, biting your lip in focus. "Shit, Alfie." you say as if he's insulted you, he lets out a low chuckle, hips wiggling underneath you as your gasps turn into smirks as you tense around him. You raise and lower yourself once slowly, your shoulders start to slump as you find a rhythm. "You feel so good like this." your words weak and high pitched, your hands resting on his chest, your legs moving your hips in fluid, swiveling rounds, relieved to find he felt even better this morning than he had last night. "That's it." you moan and rasp with an arch of your back as he works his hips up against yours in a slow but hard pump each making your tits bounce much to his enjoyment.

"Take it you dirty girl." he groans as your hips work, you lean forward, one hand on his chest, the other outstretched and on the headboard above him, increasing the speed of your hips. He pants, hands pawing at your chest. "C'mere and feed me these big fuckin' tits." he groans, mouthing up at you as you move your chest directly over his face. Once he places each nipple in his mouth separately, sucking and biting as he squeezes them hard, you whimper and your hips start to hit harder.

"Fuck, I'm getting close already," you admit with a strained, yet sweet voice. He latches onto one nipple, sucking and lapping away at the hard brown nub with a focused brow. His hand runs down to your hips, moving you slightly, grinding you against him. Your thighs tense as your clit drags up against his body, as that curve in his cock warming up all the soft spots you needed him to hit. "Just like that, right there with that fat fucking cock." you groan, voice strung out and needful, chasing your orgasm with ferocity, your breathing fast and heavy, hands on the headboard, slamming your hips against him, building up the pace you needed to finish both of you off and soon.

"Yeah, you bounce on this fat fuckin' cock you wicked thing." He growls, hands slapping your ass so hard your tense and squeak in surprise. One hand slapping down on his chest, nails digging into him as you gasp out above him. He grabs your hips in his hands, teeth clenched as he holds you in a vice grip, his hips starting to thrust up into you with his feet braced into the bed, giving you a reason to swear at him. You let out a shamefully helpless moan, voice rolling with every pound, jolting swears out of you. He moves his hands quickly from your hips to your wrists, he yanks them behind your back with a grunt, then holding you by the elbows. Now you are helplessly getting fucked, and hard by him as his skin slapped hot against yours. Your eyes roll back and you moan out his name. "That's it ya filthy little minx." he says with a shudder-inducing, a deep sexual rumble that you whimper at the words.

"Tu me feras jouir" the words roll out of your mouth and his pants open, wanting to drink them from your lips. "Ah-ah-fie." you try to call his name and can't as he slams into you, your body started to tense, he pulls you tighter by your arms, arching your back as you see stars. You aren't sure if the word yes or oui were tumbling out of your mouth as you came. But your voice in soft breaths make his hips stutter as he slam into you, making you collapse against him. You're still rolling in your bliss, his hands back to your hips, your shaking hands are on his chest, taking him like a champ and gasping. Letting him find his end as your sensitive, swollen skin is worked against him in ways that make your eyes flutter shut. Your back is hunched over his chest, your hands on the bed next to his side, your cheek resting on his sweaty and rapidly moving chest. You gulp noisily and wet your lips. His hands have laid to rest on your thighs, thumbs already twitching against your inner thighs as you both shivered. You both gasp in staggered breaths for what might've been minutes. You don't recall the last time you felt so spent in such a way.

"What a way to start the fuckin' day." he says, breathing evening out more, cheeks flushed and the smile of a totally satisfied man on his face. You lift yourself up with a grunt, rolling and slumping onto the bed next to him. You're on your back looking at the peak of your canopy beds curtains, your hands up by your head. You turn your face to look at him and he's already got his eyes on your body. "Ya alright?" he asks with a laugh, his arm flopping out at you, fingers hitting your stomach.

You clear your throat and sink into the covers you've fallen into with a wiggle of your shoulders. "Sciatica my arse." you bite at him. You lay there with a smirk on your face as you listen to his laughter fill up the room.

Pt 28 Damned If She Do

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