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elioslover · 10 months

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Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

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Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation.

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance.

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin.

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant.

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him.

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you.

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put.

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding,

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.”

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace.

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you.

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets.

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features.

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso.

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist.

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat.

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake.

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you.

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers.

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release.

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck.

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth.

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep.

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock.

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface.

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically.

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar.

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him.

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you.

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines.

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible.

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more.

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state,

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again,

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder.

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear,

“Ask me nicely.”

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him,

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him,

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now.

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms.

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction.

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed.

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.”

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast.

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly.

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together.

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another.

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction.

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job.

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking.

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours.

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress.

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own.

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back.

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure.

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last.

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness.

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.”

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin.

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life.

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.”

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.”

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck.

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso.

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips.

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat.

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention.

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind.

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige.

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

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phantomwitch16 · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel Theory: Lilith

I had never posted about Hazbin Hotel before, but I came across a theory about Lilith that I wanted to discuss. I’ve only seen clips, so correct me if I'm wrong. So, anyone who hasn't watched anything or hasn't caught up yet, WARNING: SPOILER ZONE.

At this point, everyone is quite aware of the Lilith/ Eve Theory, where Lilith left or was kidnapped by Eve to explain her disappearance for most of the show and what she was doing in Heaven. I think the theory has some promise, but some things don’t feel quite right.

In the episode where Lucifer first appears, we learn that Lilith and Lucifer seem to have split years ago. We don't know how long ago or the circumstances of the separation, with it pretty much up in the air.

It could be possible that Lucifer’s depression could've gotten in the way of their relationship (similar to his relationship with Charlie), causing some friction. This obviously would give Lilith a lot of responsibility, likely to raise Charlie and inspire the denizens of Hell by herself. We don't know much about what Lucifer does most of the time other than making ducks, keeping Lulu World running and wallowing in his depression.

I don't think that they split up, at least I don’t think that’s the whole story. There have been some odd details regarding Lilith and a few other people within the series that do add to the theory. While it's possible things might have changed during the development of the series, Viv has previously stated that Lilith and Lucifer were a very lovey-dovey couple and I doubt that she would change it. While I think their relationship would have its faults, obviously with their history and trauma, yeah, that was going to happen, but not the stereotypically 'my partner hates me' bs.

Even if they had split up, I doubt that Lilith would have just up and left Charlie without saying anything.

But anyway, since her appearance on the beach with Lute, there have been several theories about Lilith and whether she would be an antagonist or the main one. I disagree, but given how she's been pretty much a mystery for most of the series, with not much being said about her, it’s understandable most would come to this conclusion. But I doubt Lilith would be because Lilith was the one to instil Charlie to help the denizens of Hell so for her to come to disrupt her progress with the Hotel.

This obviously leads to the Lilith/Eve Theory people have come up with by what people have seen and picked apart from the show and the cards that people received before it aired. Now people who have watched the show and been on Twiiter/X or any other social media probs already know the theory, but I'll spell it out for those who don't.

Just before the show aired, people received cards on each character and a few select items in the series. Of these characters was Lilith, but there was something off with it. Instead of seeing a revamp of her original design in the pilot, it's just a close up with her face shadowed.

The image above has Lilith or who we think is Lilith sitting with her hand over her lips and a shadow over her face, only showing a sinister smile. The one thing strikes me about it was the was almost like she know that we know there was something wrong with the image and was telling us to be quiet.

So far in the show, we've only seen her in the portraits that are decorated around the hotel and in Lucifer's ducky workshop. She makes a brief appearance in Charlie’s flashbacks where we don’t even see her face, though this is largely because the attention was focused on Charlie and Lucifer. Here it shows that even her look has remained largely consistent since the pilot.

What truly defines Lilith design is her long wavy hair. But despite it, there is something different about it in the card. It's very long, obviously but as it gets closer to her face, it starts to look more uneven. Or jagged.

But what grabs the attention in the card is the smile. It looks very sharp and angular, very different to the smile that she has in the portraits and in her depiction on the storybook in the first episode.

But we've already seen it somewhere. Just not on Lilith.

Obviously, this isn't a new take. This is a very popular take that nearly everyone has heard.

I like to think that with the reveal, we will get a more factual retelling of what happened when Lilith and Lucifer rather than what came out of the story book Charlie was reading, likely something her mother made for her when she was growing up. Mainly what happened to Eve as they cleverly avoided it. While we don't know if they're going to tackle it, it's likely that they will discuss Eve's life after eating the fruit and her very long life. I think that while Adam was sent to heaven to become one of the exterminators, Eve became one of the first original sinners sent to Hell.

There are several ways they could handle it with it's possible the Eve is starting a little bit of chaos using the knowledge Lilith and Lucifer gave her. With Lilith attempting to stop her alongside Lute and the rest of Heaven.

For what reason? She could've taken up a new identity after death. that identity being called Roo. Or more specifically, the Root of All Evil.

Roo is someone that's been known for since 2019 and someone Viv is excited to introduce since she first drew her, calling her a looming threat amongst the series. Hints of her appearance have been placed throughout the pilot on the tower and on the show. I believe that Lilith, Lute and Eve are working together with Heaven to track down Roo to destroy her hold on Earth or to prevent her from doing something to Hell, Heaven and Earth.

It's also likely that she is the demon Alastor is chained to. Why her specifically and not Lilith? Besides the timeline matching, there is very little opportunity for them to meet. Even though Alastor has made a big name for himself in the Pride Ring, Lucifer has not heard of him, so why would Lilith? But that just might be a Lucifer thing, they probably could've met after one of Lilith's shows or something.

Knowing Alastor as a person, he would've been in a very desperate situation, or maybe he was too cocky like with Adam and picked a fight with her, thinking that she was some random Overlord or low ranking demon who knocked him down and stole his soul. With her having control over him, then he is willing to do anything to get out of their agreement. Whether its to play around and isolate the princess of Hell from her support network, to make her hopes and dreams crumble to dust.

It could be possible Lilith left Charlie and Lucifer to focus on Roo, with it likely that Lucifer knows what's she's up to and tries to shield her from what's happening. But as the hotel gets more popular, Roo's attention is directed to it, thus putting Charlie and all three realms in danger. Lilith would come to Charlie, try to sugarcoat it as best as possible before revealing Roo as a threat. Then when she comes there, Alastor betrays them, but as he is free, has a change of heart and attempts to help.

That's what i think anyway.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lilith #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel roo #hazbin hotel eve

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uniiiquehecrt · 8 months

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Why is it a cosmic problem that the Asgardian bloodline will end with Thor? Asgard is no more - what we have is a nonmagical place on Earth where Asgardians live. When Asgard doesn't exist, who cares that there will be no heirs. The current ruler is someone to whom King Thor just gave the rulership. That's how every ruler will be made now - anyone the current ruler gives it to. Or maybe they start holding elections. Make it democratic.

They don't need heirs now. And Thor will die alone in a ditch. It doesn't matter anymore. Taika has made it so that everything in Thor's world is insignificant now. But this is a happy ending.

I... genuinely can't entirely tell if you're being sarcastic, nonny, or if this is a genuine question that perhaps I may be misreading... (and if I have, do feel free to send a follow up and correct me)

but there's quite a many problem with the royal bloodline ending with Thor from an in-universe standpoint, just as well as the trajectory of Asgard's fate from Ragnarok and Endgame onward is an insult to the worldbuilding of Earth-199999's Asgard and the Nine Realms.

There's a couple of different ways you could slice my statement and I would still argue that what I've said can be seen as true. But I'll go through the wide range of elements in your ask to best illustrate the broader strokes of my point.

but TL;DR:

Ultimately you answered your own question, and that's the best way to boil down the travesty of it all:

Q: Why is it a cosmic problem that the Asgardian bloodline will end with Thor? A: Taika has made it so that everything in Thor's world is insignificant now.

Not only this, but Thor is the lastoline of the royal family. Before which, there only existed himself, and his father, Odin. He is the last of a subspecies of alien on par with other massively powerful aliens like Titans and I would wager, potentially even more mortal Celestials like Ego. He's a being who can generate storms just because he's miffed. Once Thor is dead and gone, there will NEVER be an Asgardian who is more than just your usual 'super-strength, super-speed, super-endurance' humanoid looking alien. There will NEVER be an Asgardian with the ability to summons storms and have lightning flow through his veins.

Hela had dominion over life and death, Thor is effectively a living, breathing, walking, talking tempest, Odin can be inferred to have some kind of 'order' seeking affinity. Who knows about MCU Bor and Buri. They are INCREDIBLY ancient, and powerful beings. If MCU Asgardians are to MCU humans what D&D elves are to D&D humans, then Thor is to Asgardians what an eladrin elf is to normal elves.

And we are watching – have already watched, even, — that incredibly powerful, incredible RARE sub-species of asgardian effectively be driven to extinction.

Just think about that for a second.

(the rest has been put under a cut because this answer got long, and for that I apologize ... mostly.)

Asgard is no more - what we have is a nonmagical place on Earth where Asgardians live.

Yes. This. This is quite actually the crux of the problem of this choice. The most beautiful and compelling aspect of the MCU in Phase 1 in particular is the prospect of an alternative universe out there where, to quote Jane Foster, "magic is just science that hasn't been explained yet". A world where superheroes truly can exist and aren't cartoonishly corny as superhoes used to be depicted... I'll say pre!Raimi Spider-Man era. (Though.. the Goblin's costume is still pretty goofy.)

What made Thor stand out as an individual hero within the Avengers (both the team, and the 2012 feature), and what made him so compelling to quite a many fans new, old, or casual, was that Thor is magical. He comes from a place where magic and science are the same thing. His whole world is ethereal and timeless, it's vast and expansive, and because it's inspired by real world norse mythology — of which is itself a rich and fascinating study in and of itself — there are a thousand different directions he could be taken.

I may be speaking partly for myself, but he also further ropes in a fantasy-centric audience such as myself who largely enjoy high-fantasy, medieval inspirations, tales of chivalry, hope, love, adventure, magic, timeless knights and princes — Dark World in particular has him acting quite a bit like your typical idea of a chivalrious, regal, stately prince or honorable knight who is virtuous and kind, and who protects those who can't protect themselves.

And that's just a single aspect of what made him so unique. What made him so unbelievably lovely. Thor is lovely, and Thor is magical. His family, friends, world, and people are magical.

But as of RAGNAROK, the realm he hails from was destroyed before our eyes before we got to truly know anything about it.

As of ENDGAME and LOVE AND THUNDER, the people and culture of asgard that remain has been so watered down that they dared to make New Asgard a tourist attraction in some rinky-dink nowhere backwater coastal town no different than Puente Antiguo, New Mexico where Thor first crash-landed in the first film.

Asgard used to be on par with, if not even more intriguing and full of mystery, than Wakanda, the earthen monarchy. Now it's a tourist trap that ... for some reason has "infinity gauntlet" ice cream in the heart of the town of a people devastated by Thanos twice.

The current ruler is someone to whom King Thor just gave the rulership. That's how every ruler will be made now [...] They don't need heirs now.

Potentially unpopular opinion (?) but I have so many issues with the decision to give Lady Valkyrie Thor's birthright that it could take an entire 10 paragraph essay for me to fully delve into all of the issues.

In short:

To say Valkyrie had a character beyond "traumatized alcoholic with a chip on her shoulder" is ... generous at best. That's not a diss, that is entirely factual. I could not tell you what her Want vs. Need is, or her character goal, or her motivations, or why she bothered to suddenly help Thor (re: lack of motivations) because she never took any action with any real agency in RAGNAROK that wasn't spurred on by Loki. ....Off screen.

I also don't think that the woman who had spent over 1,500 years MINIMUM running away from her home and her people, festering bitterness, spite and hatred towards the royal line, and who never actually respected Thor in the first place because of who his father is should have been honored the title of King. She did not deserve that. Both in general, and as a character who frankly just did not get enough screentime to really be SHOWN caring for her people, atoning for her absence and otherwise supporting, caring for, and working alongside Thor. Had she actually been shown doing any of the above in a substantial amount of screentime, perhaps then I might have felt differently, as if she earned the position more than Thor who has spent 2 solo movies (not counting RAGNAROK) earning his place as a future leader. This is likewise not entirely counting his O.S. actions of maintaining peace under his authority between Avengers and Dark World, and his personal search for the Infinity Stones post!Age of Ultron.

Valkyrie is powerful, yes, but she is ultimately still NOT an Asgardian Royal. And to your point about "this is how every ruler will be made now" — Heimdal aside, NO OTHER ASGARDIANS have special powers. It is EXCLUSIVE to Odin's bloodline. (Frigga is a practicing witch and these are two incredibly different things, since Loki was taught his magic, not born with it.) This is a GLARING worldbuilding issue further highlighted down below, but the tl;dr of it is: the only reason why Earth has been largely untouched and the Nine Realms kept safe in isolation despite the constant going-ons of the other galaxies in the universe is BECAUSE of the royal line. Odin isn't kidding around when he says he (and his bloodline) are protectors of the Nine Realms. Valkyrie is most certainly able to try, but at the end of the day she's NEVER going to be able to get through very many galactic battles without ultimately calling on Thor for assistance at the end of the day. And when her time is up? Or when Thor is finally dead and gone? There goes your ace in the hole.

But more than that, thinking about it semi-realistically from a worldbuilding perspective:

It's quite literally a cosmic problem in that there is now a galactic power imbalance. MCU!Thor comes from a version of Marvel's world where the there aren't literal gods, but there are aliens. Tons of aliens. All with varying powers and proportions and what-have-you-not. More specifically: power humanoid aliens from a realm called Asgard, that in Earth-199999 inspired the entirety of the Norse mythos of the viking age.

These aliens, governed by the ruling monarch of the realm eternal, also govern over 8 additional realms— which for all we know could range from a territory that is a singular planet (vanaheim, asgard), to potentially an entire solar system (earth and its solar system). BOTH options nine times over marks an absolutely incredible empire for a singular species of alien to claim complete control and territory over.

But they were not only able to obtain this territory but continue to safeguard it under Asgardian protection because the royal family is gifted incredible power (Thor, for instance, can change the atmosphere out of sheer mindless emotion not to mention conscious thought), and have secured and/or subdued multiple infinity stones throughout the millenia (the aether/reality stone, the tesseract/mind stone, thor has also personally endured a power stone directly to the temple, for instance), and have maintained peace for a MINIMUM of a thousand years beneath Odin's reign as All-Father, Protector of the Nine Realms.

So, if the royal family governs its own pocket dimension planet, AND maintains peace and prosperity by personally safeguarding the territories itself and of eight additional realms, all with a variety of other alien species, ecosystems, solar systems, galactic quadrants, etc. ...Who are also KNOWN to be fierce and proud warriors who have likewise safeguarded ancient and powerful alien relics the likes of the tesseract/mind stone for hundreds if not thousands of years — and you take this long-lived warrior race out of their own equation...?

We're talking potential outbreaks of a new age of war the likes of those talked about in Thor (2011), in-fighting amongst the Nine Realms, invasions from outside realms of conquesting species, so on and so forth. Without Asgard and specifically a Royal Asgardian at the seat of power to maintain the balance of what has been built, (and i specify a ROYAL asgardian, aka Thor's line, because his bloodline is the only asgardian bloodline with the raw power to maintain and preserve everything long-term), well, you've effectively started a cosmic power vacuum — even if the MCU likely will never bother to explore the consequences of it.

Slight sidebar (albeit still mostly related), but:

Quite frankly one of the funniest aspects of Thor's relationships with Nick Fury and the humans that are equally as worked up about aliens existing, pointing their fingers at Thor as an example of their right to be wary (and eventually Loki and the Chutari, though those are more earned) is that they are effectively minimum-wage fast-food employees bad-mouthing he who is essentially the up-and-coming Chairman of the metaphorical "Yggdrasil's Nine Realms Fast Food Chain" without realizing who he actually is.

(Which, viewing through that lens makes the Avengers Nick Fury scene and the Tony Stark Age of Ultron scene even more hilarious despite the eventual coming of Thanos, because Thor, bless him, doesn't take ...much... offense to it until the bad-blood becomes over-bloated and geared towards the violent. RE: "My people want nothing but peace with your planet." / "Your work with the tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is a signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war.")

For all of the drama of MCU Phases 1-3, realistically speaking, Midgard is low enough on the hierarchy of Asgard's protected territories that not only would it not be targeted first by Asgard's enemies (or other conquesting alien species), but even if it WAS to be targeted, or if Asgard was in its own fit of warfare ... Earth wouldn't even know it in the first place because THAT is how good at their jobs the Asgardians are. Earth, despite being SURROUNDED by alien activity and having even been in possession of multiple infinity stones at a time throughout history, not ONCE realized that (other) aliens existed out there... during the entirety of the 1,000-some years of peace that Odin so often talked about.

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nightghoul381 · 7 months

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Nokto 3rd Anniversary Event

A Beast's Dream Realized by Beauty

Chapter 2

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Prince. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

Prince Licht, Nokto’s twin brother, rarely smiles.

Always expressionless, I had the impression that he had forgotten his emotions in the past.

However, Nokto had a smile on his face from the moment we met.

Even if it was fake, unlike Prince Licht, he had a facial expression.

As someone who’s good at lying, I had no idea that there was a time when he “wasn’t lying.”

(Nokto who doesn’t laugh…?)

(In that case, Nokto must have been studying in Benitoite for a short period after the incident happened.)

(If the couple’s story was true, when was Nokto’s fake smile created?)

Nokto: “Are you going to kiss the wall?”

Emma: “Wha!”

Suddenly someone pulled me from behind, and my body floated lightly through the air.

Before I knew it, the wall of the building was approaching in front of my eyes and nose.

Nokto: “Why don’t you just do it to me?”

Emma: “Sorry… I didn’t notice.��

Nokto: “What are you thinking about?”

(I’m sure if I asked him, Nokto would probably answer all the questions I have.)

(but…)

Emma: “…I was thinking of ten things I wanted to do with you in Benitoite.”

(I don’t want to go diffing into the past when I’m on vacation.)

Revisiting Nokto and Prince Licht’s past is synonymous with throwing oneself into the bottomless darkness.

That’s a far cry from my wish for Nokto to be able to relax.

Nokto: “Heh… for example?”

Emma: “I want to eat lots of delicious seafood!”

Nokto: “Are you that hungry?”

Emma: “If you don’t eat well, you don’t play well, right?”

As soon as I said that, my stomach let out a loud rumble.

(…)

Nokto: “…”

Emma: “Oh, don’t laugh!”

Nokto: “I’m sorry, I can’t… If we don’t hurry up and find a restaurant, the chorus will start… Ahaha!”

Emma: “No chorus will start!”

(It was embarrassing, but if Nokto laughed as hard as he could, that would be fine.)

(…)

(…huh?)

Nokto stood still and didn’t start walking.

When I looked up to see what was wrong, a shadow came over me and a grazing sensation fell on my lips.

Nokto: “Is it okay if I give you a kiss?”

Saying that, he kissed me deeply, and I hurriedly pushed his chest back.

Emma: “We’re in the middle of town.”

Nokto: “If you don’t like it, you have to make a face that you don’t like it. Right now, your face is telling me you want more.”

Emma: “…That’s because you’re good at kissing.”

(Why are you talking about it in broad daylight like this?)

Emma: “Let’s go!”

Nokto laughed again as I started walking away, pulling his hand behind me.

Nokto: “It’s the other way, though…”

Emma: “…”

Nokto: “I never get tired of being with you.”

This time Nokto took the lead and started walking.

The date in Benitoite was full of smiles from beginning to end.

Nokto was in a good mood the entire time, and he even went along with the “10 things I want to do” that I came up with.

Buying souvenirs at shops, going to sight-seeing spots, riding on a pleasure boat, and so on.

While I was doing that, I noticed the color of the sky had changed and the sun was about to set on the horizon.

(“I want to go to the beach” finally makes ten things…Nokto did you enjoy today?)

When we were walking along the beach together, Nokto suddenly stopped.

Nokto: “…hey, aren’t you curious?”

Emma: “What?”

Nokto: “You don’t have to play stupid. There are lots of things you want to know, right?”

(…No. You can’t hide anything from Nokto.)

Today, I thought I had it all figured out, but there was one thing I couldn’t get out of my head.

(I decided not to bring it up, but if Nokto says it’s okay…)

Listening to the sound of the waves, I hesitate, and the scent of the sea calms my heart.

Emma: “Nokto, why did you study in Benitoite for a short time?”

I intended to ask the question in the brightest possible voice.

I added a smile, not to allow the darkness of the past to hold me captive.

Nokto: “What do you think Benitoite is?”

Emma: “A country of the sea and trade—right?”

Nokto: “Yes, I came to Benitoite to learn how to do business.”

Nokto: “I used to want to be a merchant.”

Emma: “I didn’t know that.”

(…this trip is full of things I don’t know.)

Nokto: “My dream was so childish and cute, wasn’t it?”

Emma: “Yes, but now you’re doing something similar.”

Emma: “Aren’t you responsible for most of the trade contracts with other countries that the foreign affairs faction gets?”

Nokto: “That’s right, but… commerce and diplomacy are completely different things.”

Nokto: “What I wanted to do was a private business, rather than for the country.”

Nokto: “To live on the profits I’d get from buying and selling things…that’s what I longed for.”

Nokto: “Do you know the first Prince of Benitoite?”

Emma: “You mean Prince Silvio? I’ve only heard of him by name.”

(If I remember correctly, he was the driving force behind Benitoite’s many successful voyages and he was also a master of business.)

Nokto: “Silvio made his fortune through his private business and now he’s the richest man on the continent.”

Nokto: “He’s exactly the kind of prince who embodied my childhood dreams.”

Nokto: “…I’m not sure about his personality.”

(I see. You admired him, didn’t you, Nokto?)

While it fills me with smiles, it also worries me.

(…Nokto couldn’t smile.)

I still hadn’t grasped what the sorrow in his red eyes meant.

As far as I’d heard of his past dreams, I didn’t sense anything dark, but…

Something I didn’t know seemed to swirl around.

Emma: “If it’s you, I have a feeling you can become a millionaire if you start your business now.”

Nokto: “I have enough to do as it is, I don’t have time for that, do I?”

Emma: “…That’s right. You would die if you added business on top of your normal official duties.”

Nokto: “How weak am I in your mind?”

(Dreams are still dreams…)

(But now that I’ve gone to the trouble of finding out about it, I hope that Nokto’s dream will come true, even just a little--)

--Flashback—

Old lady: “I’m sorry. Actually, I have plans to open a stall at the antique market that will be held in a few days.”

Old lady: “When I was sorting out my things, I found a lot of useless antiques. I wanted to sell them.”

--End Flashback—

Emma: “Ah, the antique market…”

Nokto: “What about the antique market?”

Emma: “Nokto, let’s try being a merchant for just one day!”

Nokto: “…”

Nokto: “…Are you serious?”

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince translation #ikepri translation #nokto klein #ikepri nokto #ikepri nokto klein #ikemen prince nokto #ikemen prince nokto klein

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tiktaalic · 9 months

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I hope these questions don't annoy you, but whats it like working in a lab?

I'm considering the same career path cause I really like my lab classes so far

Not annoying! from what ive seen there are 3 or so types of labs, which are labs in the hospital, which are obviously a faster pace (did half of my preceptorship in one), reference labs, which get a fairly high volume since they're doing testing everybody's sending out for (did other half of my preceptorship in one), and privately owned labs which pick up samples from clinics urgent cares nursing homes etc (both of my jobs have been with private labs).

I like it! It's very routine. I have my set of tasks i do when i clock in and my set of tasks i do at the end of the night and in between I'm just sticking samples on the machines and releasing results. and there is imo enough variation to it to keep it interesting - troubleshooting failed qc, or double checking criticals, or having to do manual difs. if you're liking undergrad lab work I'm assuming you're doing stuff like pcr and gels and micro plates? which is a lot of what molecular departments do in a lab besides micro which is micro. I currently work in the core portion of a lab, which is hematology, coagulation, urinalysis, and chemistry. You really only break out the microscope for urinalysis and hem. we have a micro department that handles all the cultures, and a molecular department that does molecular testing. lots of labs have small micro factions and do lots of micro send out instead. the last lab i worked at did that. the hospital i did my preceptorship at would do plating, but then send all the plates out to be read and send out all the blood culture tubes to be cultured elsewhere. the lab I'm currently at does most cultures in house.

re: education to work in a lab you have to be ASCP certified. After I got my biology degree, I enrolled in texas tech's CLS certification program, which was 3 semesters of classes (preceptorships were the majority of the coursework the last semester). I didn't mind doing it because I was a fresh graduate and I didn't want to Career Hunt or go to grad school. so 3 sems to get a guaranteed job sounded great to me. Since I had my bio degree, I had most of the baseline credits out of the way. chem biochem ochem cell bio genetics etc etc. And the 3 sems I did were lab specific courses like blood banking, clinical chemistry, molecular methods, immunology, phlebotomy, lab management, clinical micro and hematology. there are tons of post bachelor's cls programs, and tons of them are delivered online so that you can chip away at it part time while working.

A nice thing about it is that you can get work literally anywhere. I moved to a town with a population of 90k. Applied for 3 jobs as a brand new graduate. and got 3 offer letters. the payscale's pretty variable, depending on where you are, but it is nice to know that i'm certified in like. 47 states and could get some sort of job in any of them no problem. i think once you've been certified a year you can get cali state certification, which is the route a lot of people go since cali is on the high end of the pay scale. it'll depend on what the lab you're at is like, obviously, but it is pretty difficult to get day shift positions since what a lot of places do is open internal applications for any night/evening shift people who want to move up. I work an evening shift of 2pm to 11pm and i really like it. A very common complaint i see is that there's no like... career ladder. if you're a bench tech. you're a bench tech. which sometimes gets parlayed into section leader, or section manager, but that's a years of experience thing.

My plan is to work in the same place for a couple of years so I feel more experienced, and then to take a few travel contracts which are shorter term higher pay. again, they're available pretty much anywhere, but sometimes the tradeoff is lower compensation or a worse shift or being in the middle of nowhere america. but i think it'll be fun to get paid to bop around the country for awhile. I like my job and I like that it's very secure, but I do plan to go back to school for Something Else at some point and probably shift careers. My review: good thing to do in your twenties! good thing to have under your belt in general. very dependable.

if you have other questions in general or about anything I said you can 100% msg me! Ik I had a lot of trouble finding info when I was looking into this as an undergrad

#ask #anonymous

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arcielee · 1 year

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Interview With a Writer

Here is part 6 of my Interview With a Writer series with the super talented @sapphire-writes ♥ Thank you so much for taking the time to answer my questions and keep this going!

You can go to this post to review the other amazing authors I have spoken with ♥ Just some BTS of the talented minds on Tumblr and ao3.

Name: Sapphire-Writes

Story: Down in Flames

Paring: modern Aegon x Reader & Aemond x Reader

Rating/Warning: Explicit, sexual themes, 18+. Pay heed to the warnings for each chapter, it gets messy.

So, when did you start writing? I started writing probably when I was about 9 or 10 years old. I did creative writing throughout my teens but never delved into fanfiction until now!

What was your first fan fiction story? My first fanfiction was for HOTD. I started writing my Aemond x OC story A Song of Flames & Fury and that was the first writing I ever published on here!

Where did the plot for Down in Flames come from? I always loved the idea of a band story, and back in 2018 I was reading A LOT of fanfiction for Bohemian Rhapsody because Roger Tyler had me in a chokehold. So some of the inspiration definitely came from that, but mostly I was just curious exploring the Dance of Dragons in a modern setting.

I feel like bands are stuffed full of drama and just the perfect setting for this story. I definitely knew I wanted the Reader and Aemond together, and I knew the conflict would be around Jace and Luke leaving to support Rhaenyra's side. I knew there would be sneaking around and stuff but other than that I sort of went with the flow, figured out the characters. There were a couple things I had in mind originally that didn't end up working out/making it in.

Do you want to share any of the "cut scenes" or ideas that did not make it in DIF? So originally I planned that Jace would actually cheat on Baela, following the "Sara Snow" plotline. In part 1 that's who offers to buy him a drink at the bar. But I liked them too much together and wanted Jace to be a complete good guy to root for.

Explain your interpretation of Aemond. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in DIF? Aemond is a lot like our show canon Aemond in DIF. I see him a lot as a duty driven guy, trying to keep the band together, supporting Aegon even though he's this vain, self centered front man in the band. I think what drives DIF Aemond is this sense of responsibility, that he can't let his family down no matter what, even if it makes him unhappy.

You could sense she wanted the best for Aegon. ♥ She definitely did. And she realizes in the end that its not about her, that its about him, and we love that growth!

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal? I think I definitely was a little self indulgent, as I feel always happens as an author. I really wanted the Reader to be this person who wanted to save Aegon, she really wants to help him get better and that's just not how it works out. So definitely some savior complex stuff, but I also wanted to balance it with her being really human, if that makes sense? Like she wants to leave him, she knows she deserves better but she loves him at the same time!

Do you feel your Reader compliments Aemond well? I think in the beginning of their relationship her fire really matches his, and as they start their relationship, I think she really softens Aemond's edges. I think she really drives Aemond crazy because she does what she wants and it’s all the choices Aemond would never want her to make, like dating Aegon!

Do you think you'll return to this HotD AU? Maybe a sequel? I will definitely return! I have some drabbles/one-shots planned because I know people are curious about this group. I just really wanted to wrap the main story before burnout occurred and while it was so clear-cut.

What is next for our author? Right now I'm working on a couple things! I have a modern!Aegon story Thin Ice, I have to finish my Aemond x OC, I still have An Ego Thing ongoing and now a new Daemon x Rhaenyra x Reader The Au Pair!

Do you have a personal favorite story you'd like to share? (Yours or other?) My personal favorite story I've written I think is Dragon's Bane (it’s still unfinished). As for someone else’s, I'd have to say Burning Jasmine by @scalyfreaks. It’s an Aegon x OC and its so incredible!

#iwaw #iwaw6 #interview with a writer #ongoing series #aemond targaryen x reader #bts of their brilliance

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soloorganaas · 1 year

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i always love to see your thoughts on the black family + mental illness! you have such interesting insight and it's clear you've thought about it a lot. as a bipolar girl myself i spend a lot of time thinking about how i'm like 40g of an unspecified antipsychotic away from becoming walburga lol. for me i think the part that sticks out the most is the anger/lack of mood regulation -- that just SCREAMS untreated bipolar to me, but i think it's a relatively common trait to a couple of mental illnesses. i've always (or at least since i got diagnosed) considered the black family madness to be "just bipolar" because it seems so similar to my own experience and my family's experiences. but i'll be really interested to hear what you have to say on bpd and the black family, because that's not one i know as much about.

thank you for sharing your thoughts! i really do always get excited when i see them pop up on my feed :)

the mood regulation really is it and I think is such a crucial part of the house of black being the way they are bc it exacerbates so many dif issues

the way I understand bpd as opposed to bipolar disorder is that it’s a permanent state of disregulation, bc it’s a personality disorder rather than a mood disorder. so if you’re struggling with that disregulation every day it’s gonna look like anger issues, self esteem issues, problems with stable relationships etc. bipolar disorder is a mood disorder, meaning you have weeks/months long phases of depression or mania (or a neutral-ish in between). which still causes a general feeling of instability but with more built up, often catastrophic effects than bpd

i have bipolar disorder not bpd so I can’t speak to bpd as accurately or authentically, but I think there are a lot of aspects to at least some of the house of black’s members that speak to those disorders. and to be really fucking clear: neither of them inherently make you a bad person or do bad things (like inciting antisemitic violence and preaching conspiracy theories, for instance). if unstable relationships, anger, impulsivity or recklessness, delusional thinking or similar lead you to harmful behaviours or ideas to start with, then mental health problems can obviously exacerbate them. if your recklessness looks like climbing dangerous mountains by yourself (🙋🏻‍♀️) then mania is gonna exacerbate that

so with walburga, she was clearly devoted to her sons and her family. kreacher talks about how sirius leaving broke her heart. she also then lost her second son a few years later. that kind of trauma and grief could trigger truly awful manic/depressive episodes, which could lead to serious instability long term. it could also tear away any control she had over anger management or emotional regulation in her relationships. i think it’s important to remember that the portrait of her isn’t an accurate/entire representation (@narcissa-black-supermacy has said some great stuff about this), but that also capturing her at the absolute lowest point in her life also isn’t representative of her overall

I think if you also grow up suffocated by the world you’re in and knowing nothing else but those crushing expectations, that sort of pressure is going to make it very hard to form a stable solid sense of self and emotional foundation. I am fully extrapolating here, as we know little to nothing about walburga, but as she was presumably arranged into a marriage with her cousin, her life isn’t painted as a picture of freedom. the intensity of mood/personality disorders would exacerbate the worst aspects of that. if you’re only ever surrounded by other manic/depressive or unstable people, that’s what you’re going to intrinsically absorb as normal, and your mind is going to keep proving that bias right

so I think it’s really the story of a woman under a combination of horrific pressure and expectation and control, living in an era of dangerous fascism to which her family was intrinsically connected, raised knowing nothing else but them and their ideas, with the responsibility of raising two boys as the continuation of their line who are both, in different ways, racing as fast as possible towards their own destruction

none if this is to justify child abuse either physically or emotionally. there’s a lot of dif interpretations of this from canon but it’s fair to say sirius had a toxic relationship with his mother and was subject to at least some form of abuse as part of it. what I’m arguing is that simply passing a character off as “mad and evil” is just such a bigoted simplistic way of discussing mental illness and its interactions with morality, power and in this case family. and I think examining how mental illness interacts with the members of the house of black in v different ways reveals an enormous amount about them and adds a lot of meaningful layers to the story

#the amount of them who commit death defying or actually fatal acts for the people they love #no thoughts just vibes #the amount of them who straight up just abandon their family #two out of five cousins in one generation #it’s about the extremes #house of black #hp #hp meta

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 11 months

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Had a conversation with someone today about browsers, and it made me decide to write a post about a thing many people have written posts about before, and I saw those posts for a long time and largely ignored them, but then one day I decided to follow their advice, and it was so much quicker and easier than I’d expected. It turns out everyone’s right: it really is a good idea! Really! So here is my post to be that person telling everyone to: switch to Firefox!

Most of the posts I’d seen about it before focused on the way it’s the only browser that doesn’t mine and sell your data, which is of course important. Dating mining by giant corporations is evil for many reasons, I understand that as a broader issue. But to be really honest, on an individual level, I don’t care all that much whether Google knows what I’m doing on the internet. For quite some time, I never cared enough to bother switching browsers.

But then I did, and learned there are a lot of advantages besides the data privacy. Mainly, Firefox is so much faster. All else equal, on the same machine with the same capabilities, Firefox will open things quicker and more cleanly and easily than Chrome. “Cleanly” is the best word I can think of for the interface – it doesn’t bombard you with ads and widgets the way Chrome does. It’s not constantly pushing stuff at you.

In terms of extensions and stuff, it can do everything Chrome can do and some things Chrome can’t. It can import your bookmarks, browsing history, and saved passwords so quickly and easily. I’d seen before that it could do that, but had assumed it would be a whole process, hadn’t realized it would take literally thirty seconds.

So that is my PSA to say don’t stick with inferior browsers for too long like I did, just due to being used to it. You can import all your stuff into Firefox and it’ll be just like what you’re used to but better. While I’m at it, here are some other applications on my laptop that I recommend:

For the video and audio player: MPC-BE. It’s open source (open source means “free, but in a really good way of community and collaboration”, so you get the free stuff and don’t even have to feel bad for benefiting from the labour of the people who created it without compensating them, though it’s nice to donate if you can), and it’s so, so much better than the default Windows video player. You can customize everything in it to work with your keyboard. I have it set up so I can play/pause, go in or out of fullscreen, go to the previous or next file, and go forward or back by 5, 10, or 30 seconds with one key each. You can set it up to not have the bar at the bottom appear on the screen when you pause it, which makes taking screenshots so much easier.

It can open almost any video or audio file type, including plenty that the default player won’t play. It’s good to have VLC downloaded as a backup, because I’ve come across a couple of file types that MPC won’t play, and I had to use VLC to play those ones, VLC will play anything at all.

Also, you can have more than one video/audio file open at a time. The default Windows player doesn’t even let you do that, which is absolutely ridiculous. Download MPC-BE and change your default video and audio players to that, it’ll make your life better.

Audio editing: Audacity, obviously. Well, it should be obvious, though I actually didn’t start using that until somewhat recently. I found it a bit difficult to work out the controls in it, so instead of taking ten minutes to learn it, I was cutting up audio in my video player. Last year I finally took the time to learn to work Audacity, and it was so worth it. It’s not complicated, it only took about ten minutes to figure out. And now that I’m comfortable with it, it’s so much easier than anything else.

Video editing: NCH VideoPad. This the only software on my computer that I’ve paid for (besides Microsoft Office, I guess), and usually I try to find open source versions of stuff I want. But I’ve tried a bunch of different video editors, and just haven’t found any free ones that work nearly as well as VideoPad. I found myself editing a video in one program, exporting it, then importing it into a different program that has features the first program didn’t have, so I could use those too. VideoPad eliminated the need for that, it’s one program that does everything I want it to.

VideoPad isn’t expensive, and what I really like is it’s a one-time fee. Fuck the software subscription system, if I’m going to pay for something like that, I want to actually own it and get to keep it forever. I think VideoPad does have a subscription system, but it also has an option to pay a one-time fee to buy it outright, and that’s what I did. I paid for it once quite a few years ago now, and that was a very good purchase, I’ve gotten great use out of it.

For downloading: Jdownloader is an excellent way to get video and audio files off the internet. Doesn’t work every single time, but it works for a lot. I have used it so much in the last few years. The “allow right click” browser extension can be pretty useful too.

For screen recording: ShareX. Lightweight, fast and simple program that does everything I need it to, for free. Sometimes, if Jdownloader fails me so I try a whole bunch of other options and still can’t work out how to download a file, I find it can be easier to just play the whole thing while recording my screen.

For conversions: Media Mobile Converter. There are plenty of internet programs that do this, but I found it was really worth downloading a program that will let me do this right from my computer, so I can convert multiple files at a time. I use it most often to convert video files to mp3, like if I download a song off YouTube and just want the audio. But it’s also nice for taking video or audio files that are in weird formats, and converting them all to mp3 or mp4. Occasionally I’ll get an mp3 that’s too old for Audacity to read, so I use this convert it to wav and then it works no problem. It’s a useful tool to have on hand, and again, open source.

This has been a PSA about the pieces of software that make my life better.

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carni-val · 2 years

Text

How to Touch My Dead [Jax Teller]

Part 3: All the Things I Did (Just So I Could Call You Mine)

pairing: Jax Teller x Nicknamed!OFC [could be read as a reader insert]

summary: When Jax makes a grave mistake, it’s up to her to make things right.

warnings: Grief, angst, death, mourning

music: the scientist [coldplay]; come join the murder [the white buffalo]

Picture courtesy of @writer-wednesday

How to Touch My Dead Masterlist | Jax Teller Masterlist

“I didn’t mean to end up here, but I did. I sort of just slipped into the cracks, but I can’t stay here,” she shook her head. “If I stay, I’ll just end up going out the same way the girls did.”

This life had always been taxing on her, but she didn’t realize it until he was locked up in Stockton. Dodging death by a hair and watching others around her do the same, it all weighed on her heart and mind. Sleep was almost a stranger now; she had nightmares of drive-by the night of Half-Sack’s funeral for weeks.

Keeping a barrier between her and everybody else was exhausting too, especially when it came to him. She tried to maintain an air of professionalism with the club, but when people around them died, or got hurt, they clung to each other even tighter. They became a family to her, people she couldn’t deny because they never denied her. They welcomed her with arms open wide and kept their promise to protect her.

She fell into him when she got overwhelmed and just needed a comfortable place to rest her head. Overtime, it just got easier and easier to find her way into his arms.

When he wasn’t there, she found herself going over everything she’d witnessed; every time she’d almost been caught in the crosshairs and was left to wonder how she could ever go on like this.

His blonde eyebrows pulled together, his eyes gleaming with sympathy. He reached out and placed a hand against her cheek, providing her some silent comfort as he always did whenever she mentioned her friends. His elbow rested on the back of his couch as she let the weight of her head fall into his palm. He always held her weight effortlessly, and without complaint.

His affectionate gestures were always accompanied by silence. Neither of them were brave enough to breach the final barrier into romantic territory by saying anything out loud like that. She could sleep next to him in his bed, make him coffee the next morning, and go through the terror she went through today after learning about the trouble he’d found himself in, but she could never make it anymore explicit than that.

It had been years at this point but there was still an ache looming that reared its ugly head in times like these. Times where she’d almost lost him or almost lost her own life.

She would’ve mirrored the gesture, almost longed to feel the warmth of his cheek underneath her palm, but she couldn’t; not without hurting him at least. His face was spotted with bruises and an angry slash of red slanted across the bridge of his nose. His hair was cropped now which made the injuries all the more visible.

It was a close call today and he’d only just gotten out of prison. The Russians ambushed him and Opie when they went to check on their ammo with the Wahewa, ambushing the high of the happy homecoming that took place just a couple of days ago too.

Seeing the smile on his face as he emerged from the van in the parking lot the day he came home was contagious and she watched as his joy only multiplied once he saw Abel.

He was a ball of energy, barely sleeping the night before because he was so excited for his dad to come back home. She had to say, Abel was more affective than Aderall at keeping her up. She’d spent her nights in the Teller home while he was away, looking after Abel to give Gemma a break some nights. She had enough to keep her busy; there was always something or someone to look into for the club.

Staying at his house while he was locked up made her feel a bit better. Sleeping had gotten hard for a while after her friends passed away. She would stay up all night, sifting through different scenarios in which she could’ve prevented what happened to them, questioning if she was a coward for hiding within the club, and ultimately wondering when her day was coming.

She’d learned to distract herself from the thoughts, doing work for the club or trying to find work to do.

Sleep returned to her as she got more acquainted with the club, finding another family by a stroke of luck — not one that could ever compare to the one she found in her friends, but still, healing. His generosity and sincere concern for her was hard to resist, especially once he dropped the flirtatious facade.

Nasty thoughts returned when he was locked up in Stockton, fears of him not making it out of there and ending up alone again kept her up and staring at the ceiling. The moment she questioned how much longer she could survive in all of this, she’d get out of bed to check on Abel before finding herself in the living room in front of her laptop.

Abel took some time to warm up but once he did, she couldn’t deny the joy bursting in her heart when she saw his smile every morning. She was sure his father felt the same way as he rushed to greet him in the T-M parking lot.

It was hard to tell if she was overstepping a boundary or not — looking after Abel almost as if he was her own, but Opie had assured her that she wasn’t.

“I know he’s glad it’s you looking after Abel,” Opie told her. “You did everything you could to help get him back when Hayes took off with him — I don’t think he trusts anyone with Abel as much as he trusts you.”

The high was met with a disproportionate low when she heard Jax’s voice though the phone, explaining that the Russians were demanding their guns and holding him and Opie hostage until the Sons delivered.

Once he was back, he told her the Galindo Cartel showed up to get them out of trouble before the Sons brought them back home to safety. It was a risky game the club was playing; muling blow for Cartel and dealing guns to them, but he played along with it.

“I back Clay in the vote to mule drugs for the Cartel and he backs me when I leave SAMCRO,” he had told her as soon as they were alone. “There has to be more than this life for Abel.”

While his revelation took her by surprise, she agreed in a heartbeat. Imagining his bruises on Abel’s face made her stomach turn, and she never wanted to find him tangled in the revolving door in and out of prison.

When the pain of admitting that washed over his face, she remembered the photograph she found of him in the T-M garage. Him saddled up on his father’s powder blue bike with the same smile Abel wore now. The club was all he knew and being president was the bright future he was looking forward to — it was evident by the glow in his eyes in the photograph. To be just like dad was the goal, but it was weighing on him now. The truths that came to light were too heavy to ignore and they sat saddled on his shoulders.

She felt tension in her chest unfurl at his revelation, though she’d never name the feeling that sprouted afterwards as her hand found his warm one. He entangled their fingers instantly.

“What I’m saying is, if you’re getting out, I want out too,” she whispered now in the vicinity of his living room, paranoia creeping up her spine.

The weight of his stare was almost unbearable. She hadn’t spoken these words to anybody — barely to herself. She felt like a traitor for even feeling this way, as if she was turning her back on the people that took her in when she was at her lowest. Especially him. The person she’d grown the most attached to against her better judgement.

Today was proof of that, the way she’d paced around the clubhouse, waiting just a few feet away from the phone just in case it rang again; the way she would only sit down because Gemma grabbed onto her hand and forced her to, wrapping an arm around her for good measure. Gemma always kept a level-headed front in these situations; she used to be capable of the same thing, but not when it came to him.

The second she heard the car pull up in the lot, she rushed out, finding her place in his arms immediately. She inhaled the scent of his cologne and cigarettes that clung to his sweater, trying to distract herself from the bruises and blood on his face and the butterflies in her stomach as his strong arms held her close.

He looked at her now, eyes gentle and understanding. “Leaving with you was part of the plan,” he admitted quietly.

Her face heated up under his touch and she felt so relieved she could cry. Her heart beat reverberated throughout the emptiness of her body. Days like today cut her up and emptied her out for all she was worth, the shell of her being torn between relief at his words and a bitterness at a goodbye addressed to the club that was now inevitable.

Her knee was pressed against his thigh as they sat on the couch; simple touches that left her wanting more. The closer he leaned into her, the more she could smell his cologne and cigarette smoke embedded in his clothes and she wanted nothing more than to drown in the scent. Before she knew it, he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her upper lip.

The steady stream sent her heart hammering and her mouth went dry, but she welcomed him as his nose brushed against hers gently, being sure to not aggravate the injury there, before he let his forehead lean against hers. Her eyes closed, submerging herself in the bliss of his presence.

Her steady breath hitched in her throat when she felt his facial hair brush against her face. He’d never gotten that close before; she didn’t have a chance to open her eyes to see if it was a mistake before she felt his soft lips on hers and the prickling of his facial hair on the surrounding skin.

The kiss was gentle — a sharp contrast to when he first tried to do this — and only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away. Her mind scrambled to capture every single detail of how his lips felt pressed against hers. She opened her eyes, finding his as they looked down at her. His brows pulled together, jaw clenching as he held his breath. He stared at her, silently pleading that that was okay this time.

Neither of them said anything as he pulled away slightly. She wrapped her arms around his torso, her head finding his shoulder before he leaned back against the couch, securely tucking her into his arms.

“Do you remember when the club held a Mayhem vote for Clay?” Bobby asked her.

She nodded and looked to him, “You voted no and it didn’t go through.”

“And Jax was pissed.”

She remembered that too; she’d never seen him so angry. It wasn’t the usual loud and violent anger though, it was silent, contemplative, and secluded.

“He was gonna try and kill Clay given the chance — whether the club knew it or not. He tried to do it then and he tried to do it now. There was too much bad blood there and it wouldn’t have been over until one of them was dead.”

Her vision blurred with tears.

“You tried to protect him from becoming the person he hated and you tried to protect the club from losing anyone else; that was your job.” Bobby insisted.

Her mind reeled over the past couple of weeks and the long nights they spent together mapping out where Clay could be going, finding a place for Abel to stay, and speaking to DeMarco to get more time to deliver Clay.

“You were damned if you told the club and damned if you didn’t.”

She nodded reluctantly, finding no comfort in the sentiment although she knew it was true.

“And now it’s on you,” Bobby leaned in, “Before I tell you what I know about Clay, I need to know what you’re gonna do with him when you do find him.”

Her gaze fell to the carpet again as she wrung her hands. “I promised him I wouldn’t let this charter fold. If I don’t find Clay then DeMarco’s gonna take someone else out.”

Bobby stayed silent, waiting for her answer, silently hoping she’d make the right one.

“The club’s been tailing me ever since I left Charming,” she told him. “They finished half the job with him and they’re gonna finish it with me. I’m trying to keep my distance until I get to Clay. I’ll lead them to him and let them make the decision — about everything.”

Bobby inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to speak.

“It’s club business,” she cut him off before he could start. “What they wanna do with me and what they wanna do with Clay is up to them, or else I’m running for the rest of my life, and I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

She held his stare, seeing the pain in his eyes as clear as day before he let out a heavy sigh. The room was silent, the occasional raindrop pattering against the window behind them gently.

“I know you’ve got some ideas as to where he could be,” he finally said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Nothing solid,” she shrugged, “I checked all the airports but didn’t find anything on him.”

“What makes you think he’s trying to leave?” Bobby quizzed.

She looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you know?”

“I know Clay’s got a lot of shit, but he’s not a coward,” he sat up again, leaning in closer to her, “He wouldn’t abandon the club at a time like this. He’d stay and fight.”

“There’s not enough bodies-“

“Not yet,” he sighed. “Clay came by last night. He asked me if I’d scope out some of the guys around here that were willing to fight with SAMCRO when he got back to Charming. He’s looking for bodies and he’s looking for weapons.”

The revelation came thundering down on her. Rage and exhaustion mixed together to form a strange cocktail; one that almost convinced her to lay down and give up. Wait for the Sons to catch up to her and finish the job so she didn’t have to deal with any of this anymore.

“He’s going back to the Irish,” she surmised.

Upon Bobby’s nod, she let her heavy head fall into her hands.

She massaged her temples as his pleading voice rung out in her mind again: find him and make sure this charter doesn’t fold. Going back to the Irish ensured that all of his hard work would end up down the drain, that is, if the charter still stood after that.

Finding new business partners to make up for them pulling out of guns with the Irish was no easy feat — it was the last thing he had to do to get this charter straight, and he just barely made it happen.

If the Irish got back into business with the Sons, she was sure it’d be short-lived. They wouldn’t willingly do so if they didn’t have something else up their sleeve.

The charter’s demise was promised right now, but whether it’d be through the Irish or DeMarco and his crew was a new uncertainty she didn’t see coming.

“He’s bringing the Irish to him this time,” Bobby corrected.

Her thoughts stuttered, her head whipping towards Bobby. If Clay was gonna meet the Irish to get weapons, they had to do it at a familiar location to the both of them.

“Oswald’s warehouse,” she voiced.

Bobby nodded, confirming that she was right. “He’s gearing up to fight DeMarco’s crew.”

A newfound urgency sparked in her as she tugged the map out from her bag and spread it out on the table. She grabbed her pen from her bag and began tracing a trail from where she was to Oswald’s warehouse.

“Hold on,” Bobby cut her off.

She stopped, handing him the pen when he held out his hand for it. She watched as he created a new trail, heading east this time. He stained the roads on the map in red before drawing a circle at the end of the line. “You’ll get there faster this way,” he said, “Maybe even get there before Clay,” he handed her the pen back.

She scanned over the trail, studying it and getting a general idea of where she was going. Urgency wound her up and she was itching to get off the couch and back out on the road. Still, she could breathe a small sigh of relief, knowing she was close.

“Are you sure you don’t want anybody around here to check that out?” Bobby asked her, nodding towards her eye as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m sure,” she nodded, patting her bag as she stood on the porch, “Got all I need in here.”

He nodded silently, scanning over her, reluctant to let her leave.

“Thank you,” she told him earnestly. “He knew we could depend on you.”

Bobby’s smile gave way to the new pain that was festering in his chest, now that he knew, now that he was infected with the darkness. The bearded man held out his arms and she took a step forward, finding herself in his embrace. He held her tight, rubbing her back comfortingly like a parent would.

“I was always so glad he had you by his side,” he whispered to her. “You always had his best interests at heart.”

The lump in her throat returned and she had to pull away before she got swept up in another tide of emotion. She gave him a tight smile, begging her tears to hold off for a moment longer.

“Bye, Bobby,” the words came out in a whisper as her throat closed even more.

His smile was tainted with more sadness as another goodbye was happening right before him. “Bye, sweetheart.”

She turned on her heel to make her way back down to the car again, but stopped and looked back at him as he was still stood by the door, not moving an inch, “When the club comes by, let them know where I’m going.”

Bobby paused before nodding, allowing her to continue down the steps and towards the car.

“I’ve never seen him so angry,” she rubbed her forehead. “But I wasn’t doing it to make him angry-“

“I know,” Bobby nodded, rubbing a hand on her back as they sat at the bar in the clubhouse. “It’s just…” he trailed off with a heavy sigh, “…Look, I don’t know what happened, but…Jax always needs…somebody and the fact that that somebody is her doesn’t make it any easier.”

Bobby was perceptive — it was something she admired about him — but in times like these, she wished he just went on about his day like everyone else. But he could tell that something had gotten frayed between her and Jax. She told him all she could without mentioning the manuscript. He had pried a bit but it was hard not to spill your feelings to ears willing to listen.

When she felt like she was at a dead end, she found herself turning to Bobby. During her first few months here, she’d been stumbling around as she learned the dos and don’ts of being acquainted with the club, how to navigate Clay’s varying moods, and all the rules of the club — spoken and unspoken.

Juice was still navigating it all himself, Tig was usually too caught up with whatever Clay asked him to do, Opie was still on the sidelines as he toed his way back into the club, and she didn’t know the others well enough to ask them questions that seemed so simple. Jax was always busy with club stuff so she didn’t wanna bother him — already massively indebted to him — but in times like this, some of those unspoken rules pertained to him and him alone.

“I’m just trying to do right by him,” she dropped her hands and looked to Bobby, “Like he asked me to,” her voice was getting tight with frustration.

Bobby breathed out a small laugh, “When it comes to her, all of that goes out the window.”

She huffed out a breath, learning what everyone else knew: Tara was off-limits. The unspoken rule made her blood boil even more; she didn’t know if it was because he was making exceptions or trying to have it all when it clearly couldn’t go that way.

Her eyes narrowed before she shook her head. “Well, I can’t do that.”

It was a promise she made, not just to him but to herself. He’d done right by her when he could’ve easily left her for dead — the club got what they needed from her and her friends, so it would’ve been easy to throw her to the wolves.

When he showed her his father’s manuscript, he asked for her help, ways to turn the club legit so once he got into power, he could lead the club the way his father intended.

“So what does that mean for you?” Bobby asked. “If you can’t do both, does that mean you leave?”

Her breath hitched at the idea. It wasn’t an option; walking out on the Sons made her free game for anybody that had any sort of vendetta against her. She’d be back where she was all those months ago: fresh meat for the hungry wolves that no doubt circled around.

“I can still do work for the Sons,” she voiced, although she didn’t fully believe it. “But I don’t think I can help him anymore.”

“So tell him that,” Bobby insisted. “He’s gonna fight, and he’s gonna yell, and he’s gonna protect what’s his, but eventually it’ll seep in.”

She huffed out a sigh, never thinking that reporting the facts would ever get her into this kind of trouble.

“I didn’t know he told anyone,” Tara went pale, wringing her hands that were probably already accumulating sweat at a rapid pace.

She looked around the empty waiting room for a garbage can because from where she was sitting, Tara looked like she was about to throw up.

“I’m not gonna say anything,” she assured the doctor, knowing the repercussions of ratting would be worse. “But you shouldn’t have made him do that.”

Tara’s eyebrows pulled together and her eyes narrowed. Her frame tensed up defensively, “I didn’t make him do anything, Josh showed up and-”

“And you called him. You. Everyone around here knows he’d come running if you asked him to. And you did.”

“I didn’t know who else to call. If I hadn’t shot Josh, I would’ve called the police instead.”

“It was self-defence,” she replied, trying to keep her voice level, “The cops would’ve locked him up for everything he’d done to you.”

“Yeah, and then he would’ve gotten out and tried to do the same thing,” Tara’s tone turned sharp.

“I know,” she insisted, keeping her voice calm. “But that wasn’t the way to handle it.”

“Oh thank you, I didn’t realize that until now,” Tara scoffed, standing up.

She was quick to follow, standing in her way, not menacingly, but just enough to get her to listen.

“The next time will easier, and the time after that will be even easier,” she spoke lowly, gauging Tara’s tight jaw and challenging look in her eye. But she wasn’t here to fight. “The club doesn’t need a tyrant at the head of the table and you don’t need another tyrant for a boyfriend.”

The thought of mentioning JT’s manuscript crossed her mind, but she decided against it, unsure how deep Jax wanted to pull her into all of this, especially now considering what happened just last night.

He’d been late to Church that morning and nobody was able to get a hold of him. She’d called him multiple times but got no answer. When he finally showed up, he offered little explanation to the club. They let it slide, but she could see the tension wracking his body and how he was partially at the clubhouse and partially somewhere else.

When she got him alone, he bared it all to her. It was the first time he ever killed someone and he begged her not to say anything to anyone. Not just because it was a fed, but if word got to Clay about this, he’d keep putting a gun in Jax’s hand, perverting JT’s vision of the club in a new way with his own son following in his footsteps.

She figured keeping it between the three of them would be okay — it had to be now that she knew.

The doctor sighed heavily, letting her head fall into her hands. She let out a small sigh of relief, to watch her rigid demeanour soften and make way for the fear she was trying to hold back.

“I’m not saying all of this to scare you, but he loves you, Tara, and when a man like that loves you, it comes with responsibility.”

Bits and pieces of Tara and Jax’s history came to light once Tara came back to Charming, as it was preceded by their lingering, potent attraction to each other. The two were high school sweethearts until Tara’s mother died, and she packed up all her things and moved out of this “incestuous, backwards town” as Gemma claimed Tara put it; it made her wonder why Tara was back.

The question piqued suspicion in her, especially after learning about how dangerous Kohn proved himself to be, but she let it go, deciding it wasn’t any of her business. Looking out for Jax only went as far as club business and his place in the club. However, once Jax took care of Kohn, it became her business.

Jax and Tara weren’t in high school anymore and he wasn’t just a prospect, he was VP, determined to turn the club legit as he made his way up to president. This life was filled with people and situations that would tempt him to fall into the patterns of the club and if she was the only force swaying him the other way, she was gonna work like hell to make sure he stayed the course because she knew he was capable of delivering it with the right people around him. She gave them the benefit of the doubt — sure they could work, as long as she was one of those people.

There was a knock on the door of the secluded waiting room before it was being pushed open. Another woman wearing scrubs apologetically poked her head in through the crevice of the door, casting a quick, almost fearful glance in her direction.

“Sorry, Dr. Knowles,” she looked to Tara, “They’re ready for you in OR 1.”

“Okay,” Tara nodded, plastering on a smile. “I’ll be right there.”

The nurse nodded once, throwing another glance her way, before leaving the room and keeping the door slightly ajar.

She turned to Tara, “Go save some lives, doc,” she advised before making her way out of the waiting room.

“Why did you show me the manuscript in the first place?” was the first thing she asked as soon as he opened the door.

He sighed, frustration being muted by exhaustion.

They’d had their fight that morning so maybe showing up that night was a bit too soon, but she didn’t get to say her piece then.

He released his hold on the door, “Evie, I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“Tell me why,” she insisted.

He looked behind her, up and down the deserted road before reluctantly walking inside, silently telling her to follow him and shut the door behind her. She followed him in, closed the door despite the surprise that stunned her at the fact that he actually let her in. He looked so exhausted as he planted himself on his couch.

“If I’m here to help you with the club, then I can’t cater to you and uphold what you asked me to do at the same time,” she informed him, watching as he scrubbed a hand over his face before it settled over his mouth. “I can’t walk that line without tipping over onto one side.”

“You have to when it comes to Tara,” he spoke lowly, getting that primitively angry look in his eye.

“I can’t, especially not with Tara,” she insisted, “If you’re gonna turn the club legit once you get a hold of the gavel, everything you do leading up to that moment is gonna decide the type of man that sits in that chair.”

His jaw tightened as frustration multiplied within him. He wanted to say something, she could tell by the way he was looking at her. The anger was egging him on to have another outburst and to kick her out of his house and out of the protection of the club. But he stayed silent.

“And it’s gonna dictate the kind of man you are for Tara.” Though she tried to remain neutral, she could taste the vinegar in her words as she said them.

He stayed silent but his eyes fell from her.

“I’m just doing what you asked,” she reminded him, “But if that’s too much then I can step away from this and forget you ever told me anything. I'll pack my bags and leave.”

His eyes were back on her with a flash, eyebrows pulling together. “What are you talking about?”

“If we don’t straighten all of this out then I gotta hit the road-“

“You can still work for the club,” he stood up from his seat, “Just because this didn’t work out.”

“I can’t,” she shook her head, “I already got the president making it hard to do my job, I don’t need the VP doing the same.”

His look became cynical, “I wouldn’t get in your way.”

“You already have,” she pointed out.

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. She couldn’t look at him as she turned and walked past him towards the door.

For the sake of flicking out the butt of her cigarette, she rolled down the window despite the heavy rainfall happening outside. She rolled it back up as her foot pressed down even harder against the gas pedal, ramping up her speed. Seeing Clay’s face in her mind didn’t make her foot relent even an inch. The bone she had to pick with him was getting larger and larger, lodged between them at a jagged angle that was a pain in both of their sides from the moment they met.

“She can’t be trusted,” she overheard Clay insist to Jax in the Chapel.

“Yes she can,” he fought for her, “We could trust her and her friends before, so why not now?”

“We got bigger problems to deal with than the ones she caused for herself.”

“She can help us.”

Silence fell over the clubhouse and she felt Juice nudge her shoulder comfortingly. She looked to him to see him wearing a reassuring smile as he sat next to her on a barstool in the clubhouse. “I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he whispered to her.

She pushed out a smile in response. He was always optimistic in times like these, but she still hadn’t pieced together if he was trying to convince himself in the process too.

“I mean, if anyone here can handle Jax, it’s Clay,” he continued. “I mean it’s really impressive.”

Just as she saw Juice open his mouth to speak again, she beat him to it, “Thanks Juice,” she said, not wanting to strain him anymore for reassurance.

The way he was fidgeting with his hands as he spoke made her all the more nervous.

Juice smiled at her, silently apologizing and she returned it, silently accepting it before her eyes found the door of the Chapel again.

“We’ll have a vote,” Jax decided finally. “The club will vote on it and if it passes, she stays and helps us.”

“That’s good!” Juice beamed, trying to keep his voice down. “Everybody here already likes you; I know it’ll pass.”

She looked to him, finding him more sincere when he spoke this time and it stretched a small smile over her face. It was true, she’d gotten on well with a lot of the members here — the others like Piney, Clay, and Tig who stayed more to themselves had kept their distance were a bit harder to cozy up to.

“Fine,” Clay replied to Jax before she could speak. "But if it passes and that snake bites the hand that feeds her, know that the venom that seeps through this club is because of you.”

Any spark of joy she felt at Juice’s words died down, the smoke whisking away in the wind as soon as Clay ripped open the door. He began to stalk out of the clubhouse, but stuttered when he saw her. His stare was nothing short of cutting before he took in a deep breath and held it as he pushed on and made his way out to the lot.

Who knew the snake would be sitting at that very table. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel impatiently, thinking about exactly what she would say to him when she did find him. Clay was a poison that infected two generations of Teller men and ultimately led to their demise. If there was poison circulating throughout the club, it came from his own fangs, but if he wanted her own personal brand of venom, she’d give it to him especially if it was the antidote to his own.

The needle in the speedometer perched straight up to 100 as she flew down the empty road. She glanced over to the map spread out on the seat beside her, checking the next turn she’d have to make.

Her head whipped forward to look out of the windshield suddenly as she heard a faint thrumming outside. She reached over and turned the radio off and rolled down her window, welcoming the heavy raindrops into the car once again to try and hear it better.

As soon as the sound became clear and she realized what was happening, she groaned, “No, no, no!” she slammed her hands against the wheel.

The sputtering of the engine continued and she pulled over to the side of the road. The low fuel signal flashed at her as it had been for the last few miles, taunting her now as if to say, I won.

Quiet engulfed the air once she turned the car off after it stalled. She sighed to release the breath she’d been holding and let the weight of her head fall forward until her forehead pressed against the steering wheel.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

After a few moments, she picked up her head and looked through the blurred windshield. The rain was coming down hard but she had no other choice but to move.

She inhaled deeply, the smell of the tobacco becoming more potent and calming her slightly. It wasn’t until now that she realized just how tired she was. She’d been up for more hours than she could count, and alert for all of them; high on pure adrenaline.

Seeing Bobby was the closest thing she had to a vacation during all of this. It was the closest she got to letting the grief in. She let bits of it seep into her and she let it out just as much; her body rejecting it. Another poison that just dominated her own.

She let herself be still and let the world be restless instead for a second as she latched onto the smell of the cigarettes; clinging onto them desperately.

Was this gonna be the rest of her life now? Grasping onto the sound of a motorcycle’s roaring engine as it passed by or taking in a deep breath of tobacco infused smoke each time a smoker passed her on the street? Was this how he existed now? In pieces; scattered around and only finding her if she was in the right place at the right time?

Tension itched at her muscles. The car was too silent. And she had to get moving.

Mechanically, she turned to the passenger seat and folded up the map that sat there. She put it into a pocket of her bag before turning to the dashboard and picking up the photograph and slipping it into another pocket. After ensuring the rest of the zippers were done up, she pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head and exited the car.

The unforgivable downpour drenched her in seconds; the wind accompanying the storm didn’t help either, redirecting almost every raindrop that would’ve surpassed her right into her face as she began walking along. She clutched onto the strap of her bag tightly, moving her feet as quickly as she could move them.

It had to have been twenty minutes later — ten if the car held out a little longer — that she saw a small plaza in the distance across the street from a gas station. She huffed out a cynical laugh at another taunt from the universe. She shook her head, quickening her steps to finally get out of this rain that she was sure soaked through her coat already.

She took a quick glance in the direction of the gas station then muttered out a curse. Of course there’d be no one there — not in the middle of this storm.

Looks like I’m walking.

The closer she got, the more shops she was able to make out in the plaza: a dollar store nestled between a restaurant and a clothing boutique. She found refuge in the former, huffing out a sigh when she was finally sheltered from the rain. Still, she kept her hood and glasses on, ensuring that nobody would be able to see her, even if it was by accident.

The small store was full of people, mostly huddled near the register, waiting to pay for their items. There were two employees at registers, and they were no match for the swarm of people ahead of them.

The warm shelter of the store made her walk slow down to a saunter as she took it all in. She looked up and down the aisles for an umbrella, deciding she’d need one if she was gonna continue on this journey. Getting picked up in this weather was a long shot; not only would it be hard for them to see her down on the road with her thumb hitched out, but she was sure they’d keep moving in hopes of getting to their destination faster.

She spent a little more time roaming around the aisles, stopping at some points and looking through different items in the store; even some toys she thought Abel would like.

Her heart softened at the thought of the boy. His bright smile flashed in her mind and she couldn’t bear to bring him any sort of pain that was inevitable with the situation at hand. Part of her hoped she didn’t make it to the farm. She couldn’t fathom breaking his heart so severely at such a young age. Would he see through her grief and spot the coward behind it all? The one who hid behind the bedroom door? The one who ran?

The thoughts drained her even more. She couldn’t bare to pass on the darkness — she’d passed on enough of it and still had a supply to last her a lifetime.

She pushed past it all and finally, at the end of the final aisle at the back of the store, she found an array of umbrellas hanging from a display. There were various colours — almost making up a rainbow — but she settled on the black one, needing to blend in as much as possible.

She was only a few steps down the aisle towards the cash register when a unified roar that rivalled the thunder outside got louder and louder the closer it got. She froze in her spot, watching the bikes roll up on the road ahead through the window.

She was cautious in taking a few steps into the aisle to get a closer look. She watched as two of them turned right into the parking lot of the gas station and the third turned left into the plaza.

The bike approached the window; the reaper standing out against the black bike before its engine cut off. It wasn’t until he dismounted that she recognized Chibs quickly approaching the entrance of the store. She stumbled back in the aisle, moving back the closer Chibs got to the door of the store.

She gasped a breath and held it, feeling it tighten her chest. She jolted when she stumbled into the shelf of toys, sending a few falling to the ground noisily. She grasped onto the umbrella tightly as she watched Chibs walk through the door, and that’s when she turned around and headed deeper into the back of the small store.

A door with a sign that said Employees Only was the only thing there and although it was padlocked, she tried her best to open it anyways, praying that some miracle would happen where the knob would release and twist all the way to allow her into a safe hiding place. She pushed her body weight against it, fighting against the locked door knob as much as it was fighting against her, silently pleading for it to open. She relented once her body hit the door for the fourth time.

Her mouth was running dry and her throat was constricting and all she could hear in her ears was her rapid pulse. Her legs trembled and she felt faint. She inhaled sharply through her nose, determined not to let that happen. As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t aware that she was here. She hadn’t heard their rumbling engines on her walk over here so she still had a chance to get away.

She stood next to a man in the aisle, letting his bigger frame shield hers as she watched Chibs’s form saunter towards another aisle on the other side of the store. She held her breath, watching him until he was out of view so she could keep heading on down the aisle and out of the store. She threw glances over her shoulders, ensuring he didn’t round the aisle and approach her from behind.

Once she was out of the aisle and into the swarm of people, she noticed the only way out of here was through the registers. She apologized quietly as she hid herself amongst the crowd, shouldering her way through as carefully as she could. She took on the glares her nestling brought her as she accidentally bumped into a person or two.

She scanned the area continuously, desperate to make sure that she saw him before he saw her. As she moved her way through the crowd, she ripped the tag off of the umbrella in her hand and shoved it into the deep pocket of her raincoat.

“Hey sweetheart,” she heard from behind her, a rough poke of a finger digging into her shoulder.

Her heart stuttered as she turned to the man who stood with a basket of items in his hand. With just one look at his tight features, she knew she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of this. She was just the target for his pent up anger at the circumstance he found himself in currently.

“The line starts back there,” he hitched a thumb over his shoulder.

She glanced over the crowd, making sure the man’s outburst hadn’t caught Chibs’s attention. She didn’t see him anywhere; not emerging from an aisle, not hiding in the crowd like she was. She still had the element of surprise — that is, if this guy didn’t blow it for her.

Noticing that she was still in the clear, she turned back around, ignoring the man as her attempts to get through the crowd were hastier.

“Jesus Christ, nobody’s got any fuckin’ patience anymore,” the man cursed. “Or the ability to move their asses and work!” his comment was directed towards the people behind the counter.

“Hey, can you shut the fuck up?” another woman in the crowd called to him.

The two got into an argument comprising of passive comments to one another as she threw another look over her shoulder. It was just in time to see Chibs emerging from one of the aisles empty handed. His head swept up and down the expanse of the store and she ducked out of view, as if she was trying to jump out of the crosshairs of a gun.

She turned back around and weaved her way through some more people, apologies flying out of her mouth absentmindedly, persuading — if not begging — those around her to keep quiet.

She tumbled through the walkway between registers and scurried towards the door, her quick pace halting as she got caught between a couple of older women who were tucking their receipts into their bags. She bit back a curse as she slowed her pace, following their lead.

She took one look to her right over to the gas station lot, finding Juice and Happy fuelling up their bikes. The rain had thinned out but there was still enough reason to pull out an umbrella.

Just have to stay calm, she reminded herself. Just pop open your umbrella and walk normally like everyone else is.

A gasp was pulled out of her when she heard someone behind her. She whipped her head around to find a father with his son who was already ripping a toy from out of its package. She sighed, turning her head forward as she walked in tandem with their speed.

A gust of wind preceded the amount of rain pelting down once the door was open and in the blink of an eye, she mirrored those around her as they propped up their own umbrellas. She winced at the sound the umbrella made once it opened, but she was quick to pull it over her head and tilt it so it kept her hidden from Juice and Happy who were still across the street.

She stayed close to the women who walked in front of her, keeping her head low, and making sure she was breathing. Her gaze latched onto the reaper on Chibs’s bike, the one that just took and took and took.

She held onto the handle of her umbrella with a death grip — one that got even tighter when a gust of wind passed through, threatening to rip the umbrella out of her hand and expose her. She listened closely, trying to pick out the sound of footsteps behind her or engines about to rev through the pattering of raindrops on the pavement or the conversation of the women in front of her.

She walked further until the gas station and the plaza were behind her. She watched the women in front of her veer left and down a road leading into a neighbourhood. She tensed again, almost curling in on herself but she kept walking until she found another crowd of people up ahead that were exiting a restaurant a few feet away. She caught up with them steadily, keeping a short distance between them as she continued to walk.

The company was short-lived and she found herself alone again, taking a few twists and turns throughout neighbourhoods while staying on track with the map to ensure Chibs, Juice, and Happy lost her for a bit if they did recognize her. That was the closest they’d gotten and she couldn’t afford for that to happen again until she found Clay.

When she ran out of people and neighbourhoods to hide amongst, she found herself huddled in a long stretch of tall trees that was far from the road.

The rain had returned to its heavy, unforgiving attack and was now accompanied with heavy wind that made her umbrella harder to control. She grasped the handle tightly with both hands, cursing when it flipped inside out at a particularly rough gust of wind.

She stopped and pointed the inverted umbrella towards the wind, impatiently waiting for it to snap back into place. The wind calmed slightly, giving no assistance to fix what it had broken.

“Come on,” she urged through gritted teeth. She shook the umbrella with a force that was almost violent — too excessive but it wasn’t enough to puff it back in to its natural shape.

“Fuckin’ cheap piece of shit,” she shook it some more before her hands raised the umbrella up over her head and slammed it into the ground with the same force that sudden anger slammed into her.

“Fuck this fucking shit!” her hoarse voice called out.

She called out more curses, louder and louder each time, hoping that if the club was close, they’d hear her and put her out of her misery.

Twisting her body, she flung the useless umbrella into the wind. It danced away gently, bouncing on the ground a couple of times before flying off further away.

The way it floated away, unscathed for the most part, only lit the fire under her even more — a blazing, fire cracking fury that even this downpour couldn’t put out. She grasped onto the strap of her bag and swung it deep into the ground. Mud stained the leather but the thump of her bag against the earth was satisfying — as if the anger in her was being expelled through this and back into the earth — so she did it again, and again, and again, monstrous cries leaving her in the process. She paid no mind to the damage she was doing to her laptop. It’d be no use to her anymore — wherever she ended up. She kept going, despite the ache in her arm. It wasn’t until she lost her footing and slipped that she stopped.

She abandoned the bag after she landed on her knees in the mud, letting the strap of it untangle from her tired fingers before they curled up into fists and began pounding on the ground, sending specks of mud flying and landing wherever they chose to — she didn’t care, she couldn’t. She was unrelenting, almost as if she was trying to reach into the centre of the earth — like it had the answers she was looking for.

She found herself gasping for breath when she pulled her fists back. Her sharp sob startled her as she caved in on herself. It wasn’t until she felt the way her stomach clenched with each sob that she realized she was crying. She keeled over, her hands, gentler now as they spread over the ground and planted themselves in the mud as the desperate need to curl up into a ball overtook her. The gluttonous being that grief was would just keep feeding and feeding until there was nothing left of her.

Her head bowed as she sobbed, fingers curling in the mud, grasping at the earth she walked on — the same one he’d be buried in for as long as she lived. It was the same earth but they’d still be too far from each other.

If only she was a mole in the ground.

To dig her way through the layers of the earth and find him again. To be by his side; to take her rightful place and just lie there with him.

The vastness of this woodsy area was large — the earth was even bigger. The thought made her head spin. A world full of people and not one could compare to his presence, dooming her to an eternity of suffering. If the club wanted to kill her, then they’ve already succeeded. All they could take now was the body she inhabited, and right now, it was the last place she wanted to be.

The last remnants of anger — her new protector — sent her fists into the ground again rhythmically, like a child throwing a tantrum, because it just wasn’t fair. The ground was still firm enough to send a shock of the impact up her arms, so she did it again, and again, and a third time before sadness came in, rubbing a comforting hand on her back and unravelling her fists.

She leaned back on her feet, her muddy hands resting on her legs now. Her chest deflated with a heavy exhale as she worked her way towards catching her breath.

She leaned her head back, the hood she was wearing sliding off and exposing her even more to the rain she’d been hiding from. She welcomed it now. The closest thing she’d ever get to his touch was in the way the mud curled into her fists and seeped through her fingers, and in the raindrops that fell from the sky above her.

For the first time in days, she let his name fall from her lips, first in a whisper, then in a whimper, then in a chant, as if it would bring him back.

The house was quiet as the two of them stood a few feet away from each other in her small kitchen. He hadn’t been here since last month, the both of them skirting around each other in the clubhouse, at the garage and wherever else they ran into each other. They ended on a low note, but didn’t let it resonate throughout the club. She was still there, helping, and remaining objective whenever she brought something to the club, but never getting close to her again as they once started out.

Word travelled fast though, and when she heard the news, she was sure that would come to an end. That’s why his presence on her doorstep that evening wasn’t completely surprising — like Bobby said: he’s gonna fight, and he’s gonna yell, and he’s gonna protect what’s his, but eventually it’ll seep in.

She decided to give him a chance; trying to make up for the damage she caused somehow, but also hoping — partially — that the last string tethering them together would be severed tonight.

His absence brought to light some less than favourable feelings she’d developed, and relief at Tara’s departure from Charming only confirmed them.

“I didn’t mean to make her leave,” she spoke quietly, breaking the delicate silence. “I was just trying to do what you asked me to.”

She wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself, hiding the pyjamas she was wearing underneath it. He’d been there for ten minutes but hadn’t made himself comfortable. She tried to help — offering coffee, water, but he declined them all silently with the shake of his head.

It was worrisome; maybe she overstepped a boundary that made an irreversible change. While Gemma subtly applauded her for it, she felt awful looking at how he almost curled in on himself when she saw him at the clubhouse.

“You didn’t,” he finally spoke. His eyes were low and voice grief-stricken. “She’s a runner,” his tone took a sharp edge and his lip curled in frustration.

He finally looked at her, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the counter across from the one she was leaning on.

“She was always half-in half-out with the club. Things got messy and she split — went back to Chicago,” he shrugged, trying to hide his hurt behind his seemingly impenetrable facade. “She just used me to do her dirty work,” he almost spat.

She felt the pain in his words and she took a cautious step closer. He didn’t show any opposition to her action, just watched her with big eyes, his jaw clenching every so often and eyebrows pulling together in a way that almost looked like he was pleading with her to make the pain stop.

When she was close enough, she placed a hand on his arm and she watched the rigidity in his body melt away; all the anger and all the fear of breaking down in front of her evaporated.

She trailed her hand up his arm to his shoulder, her other hand landing on the opposite one before he craned down and fell into her embrace. She sighed as she bared his weight, feeling his face burrow into her neck. Her hands rubbed up and down his back, palms running over the grooves of the patches on his kutte. He didn’t say a word, didn’t cry, or make a sound. He just held her and let himself be held for the first time in a long time.

What are you doing? the voice in her head got through to her.

She silenced it, burying her face into his shoulder, justifying it as just being there for her friend. She missed him and she couldn’t deny it anymore now that he was here. This month had been hell and she’d get a handle on all of this tomorrow, but tonight, she was just gonna be here for her friend.

A minute had passed and she pulled back half an inch, testing to see if he was ready to let go. His head still hung low, his face close to hers as he pulled back too. She continued to move back but his arms steeled around her, keeping her in place.

She barely had a second to understand what was happening before he let his lips collide into hers, his hand coming up to cup her cheek so he could hold her now. The kiss was sudden, desperate, and a silent plea for her.

The twinge of pain in her chest blossomed in the blink of an eye — it wasn’t for her, it was for somebody. She pulled back and ducked her head; self-preservation to ensure he didn’t do it again. The cool air around them found her cheek again when he pulled his hand away.

“No Jax…” she whispered breathlessly, her breath catching in her throat as a swarm of pain and betrayal — as foolish as that was — engulfed her.

She didn’t know exactly what she was saying no to — whether it was to him, what he just did, or how she reacted.

She cautiously looked up to find his chin jutted up, eyes plastered to her ceiling as he rubbed his lips together, almost savouring how steeply they crossed the line. His eyebrows were pulled together and she questioned whether he’d have broken down now if she wasn’t there.

But she knew him and she knew if she fell into bed with him, it’d do him more harm than good. She saw the way he was with women that hung around the club before Tara came back. There was a new one leaving his dorm almost every morning and she knew it was just to stop the bleeding. But she couldn’t be somebody to him. She could only be her.

The club’s future was at stake — and it was too much to be careless with.

She opened her mouth to say something — something to soften the blow — but he just rubbed her arm with his large, ringed hand before he turned and made his way out of her apartment, leaving her with the lingering, seering remnant of his touch.

#jax teller #jax teller imagine #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #writer wednesday

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