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sugaxjpg · 4 years

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infamous; m

⤷ You would rather die than to have someone figure out about your sexual escapades with Local Fuckboy, Kim Taehyung. It was an ego thing.

✓ Couple: Taehyung x Reader | Fuckboy!AU & SecretRelationship!AU

✓ Filed under: smut

✓ Look out for: bathroom sex, breast play, oral (male receiving) + deepthroat, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex (use condoms or i’ll kill u!!!), mirrors,switch!tae and switch!reader, taehyung being lowkey a prick but we’re all in for it

✓ Words: 12,508

Author’s Note: Of course my year-long hiatus would end with a smut. What else can I say? I can hear the clown music from here.

“Like, can you actually believe that? He ghosted me for three weeks, then he had the nerve to ask for a tit pic.” She sighed, taking a slip from her neon green drink. You didn’t know how Hyejin could ingest something that resembled toxic waste and make it seem like it actually brought her some sort of comfort. “You know what? I’m done with men. All of them. We really are living in the medieval ti— Are you even listening to me?”

You blinked twice, taken off guard by the clicking of her fingers in front of your eyes. Truth was, you were only half present, the other half of you scrutinizing the living room, trying to find a certain someone amongst the agglomeration of bodies.

“Yeah, sure, sorry,” you apologized, leaning your side against the wall. Behind Hyejin, two guys started yelling about something related to Harry Potter and you couldn’t care less. “I was somewhere else for a second, but I’m here now. You were saying that he ghosted you?”

“Yeah, like an absolute idiot.” She rolled her eyes, gesticulating aggressively. You nervously watched the movements of the radioactive cup, worried that it would splash all over your clothes. You really should’ve thought twice before combining a white blouse with your black skirt — that was a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I’m never talking to him again. Or any man.”

“Hm,” you hummed, crossing your arms. You didn’t know who she was trying to convince, that must’ve been the fifth time you heard your friend giving you that speech (during that semester alone). “Who’s that again? Hoseok?”

“The one and only,” she agreed, glimpsing at her side as if someone could even hear you two amongst the loud reverberation of the music. “Really, I don’t know how those guys haven’t been thrown out of the campus yet. They’re a hazard, all seven of them. A threat to public health.”

You shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, they pay their tuition and do well in class. That’s as far as the college cares.”

She groaned. “I guess.” Another slip. A pause. Another one. Yep, you were designated driver for the night. “Could be worse, though, I could be one of the poor chicks that Taehyung fucks in his spare time.”

Oh.

You giggled, nervous. “Yeah, yeah,” you agreed, looking back at the mass of students. “Yeah, that’d be awful.”

She hummed in concordance, taking her cup back to her lips. The two guys behind her decided to quit the arguments and moved away from the two of you, making you follow their figures as they dissipated amongst the crowd. You didn’t know how college parties managed to squeeze so many people in one small living room, but it was one of the mysteries of life, you guessed.

“I don’t know what’s the deal with that one,” Hyejin continued. “It’s like he has a golden dick or something.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your attention back at her. “What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s a complete douche.” She moved her hand as if she was scaring away an invisible fly. “Don’t even think about him. He’s the kind that uses and discards people.”

“You think so?” You asked.

“I know so,” she said. “I couldn’t even count on my fingers the amount of girls that had one night stands with Taehyung, and somehow became completely whipped by the dude, only to be told that he doesn’t ‘fuck the same person twice’. Like… What the fuck is that? Who says that?”

You laughed, noticing the tinge of red that covered her cheeks. “You sound really drunk.”

“So?” She asked. “I’m not bullshitting you. Taehyung is a prick and that’s gospel.” She raised her cup in a silent cheer, and took another slip. “I know you’re not involved in the fuckboy phenomena that plagues this campus, and, honestly, you’re better off that way. But trust me when I say that he isn’t worth the headache.”

With an inattentive nod, you took another peek at the strangers in the room. “I believe you, don’t worry.”

The worst part? You did.

Even worse? There were two things wrong with what she had told you.

Number one: yes, Taehyung was kind of a jerk sometimes. But he wasn’t completely soulless. He was fun to be around, actually, when he wasn’t surrounded by his smooth-brained friends, or trying to impress someone into sleeping with him. Also, you were pretty sure he told at least most of those girls that he wasn’t searching for anything serious, and a one-night stand was most likely all that they would get.

You couldn’t speak for all of them, of course, but the ones that you knew personally, at least, had mentioned something along those lines to you. He didn’t exactly lead them on, trying to break their hearts just for the sake of it. Besides, Taheyung was already kind of infamous around campus for “using and discarding” people, as Hyejin had put, so it wasn’t precisely a surprise for anyone involved.

Number two: Taehyung fucked the same person twice, if he felt like it. And you knew that because you’ve been fucking him on and off for the past five months or so.

To your defense, you weren’t exactly after a “secret friends with benefits” relationship when you first met him. In fact, you didn’t expect that you would fall victim to his charms just like everyone else, melting under his tender kisses, moaning his name as he rolled his hips against you, edging your orgasm for longer than you could hold it. And you didn’t expect to like it as much as you did.

Truth was: Kim Taehyung was everything, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew that he was attractive as hell; he knew that he had a voice so silky and deep that just saying the right words would be enough to have you in bed with him — and he knew how to use two two things very well. So, just like Eve, you followed the snake and bit the apple, and blah blah blah, eternal damnation or something like that. Big deal.

You didn’t care much about being fuckbuddies with Taehyung, actually — he had his fun with other people in the meantime, and so did you —, but you pretty much could die at the idea that someone would find out. It was an ego thing, alright? You didn’t want people to know that you were interested in him, since you prided yourself in being a strong, independent woman, and to have people think that you were wrapped around his finger (which you absolutely wasn’t!) would not be a good look for your personal brand.

And it got more complicated than that. The thing was that Taehyung had always been one to flaunt around his trophies. It wasn’t unheard of for him to just start talking about someone that he had fucked, maybe even giving a bit more detail than anyone else involved would appreciate. You knew that it was just a matter of time before your name dropped from his lips at the wrong time, in front of his ape-brained friends, and everyone would discover that you were added to his long lists of booty calls.

So, when you asked to keep that first night a secret, you were surprised when he quickly accepted it.

Against all expectations, Taehyung didn’t fall into his old pattern when it came to you. He had been the one to text you first, calling you over to his place — which he made sure to be empty — and he had been the first one to suggest that you two kept meeting up after that. Now, let’s not get this mixed up: it wasn’t an undisclosed crush, it wasn’t love. It was just Taehyung fulfilling some weird-ass kink of his. He liked to have you when he wanted it, the way he wanted it, and he liked the thrill of it all being undisclosed — to him, it felt like you two were doing something wrong, which managed to turn him on even more.

Also, you were human, alright? There was something extremely tempting about sleeping with someone as almighty as Kim Taehyung, King of Fuckboys, especially when he kept coming back to you. It’s only nature to want to feel special every once in a while.

Again: it was an ego thing.

Even if your pride told you otherwise, you decided, again and again, to come back to him. Late at night in your apartment, when your roommate had already gone to sleep, and he was buried deep between your legs, licking your wetness and sucking on your clit. Or maybe in the interval between your classes, when you two managed to get the locker rooms empty, and he fucked you so hard against one of the lockers that you could swear someone would come see what was going on with all that banging against the metal.

But no, no one ever caught you. Not Hyejin or any of your other friends. As far as you were aware, Taehyung’s group didn’t know a thing either, which made you appreciate him even more.

See? He wasn’t a total douchebag. He had the most basic sense of loyalty.

And, yeah, you didn’t like lying to your friends, but it was a necessary measure. You were sure they would kill you if they found out about your private escapades with the Local Fuckface McGee: half out of sheer panic for your emotional well-being, and the other half out of pure jealousy. You didn’t think much about it most of the time, since you kind of understood Taehyung’s side: you simply liked the thrill, and you weren’t actually doing anything illegal. No one really had to know.

Rupturing the bubble of your nostalgia, your friend’s voice startled you back into reality.

“Who are you looking for?” Hyejin furrowed her eyebrows, staring you down intensely. She had been your friend for three years, and you were absolutely certain she could see through your bullshit — well, most of the time. “Do you have a dick appointment that I don’t know about?”

You laughed, your voice coming out an octave higher than you intended it to. “What? No!” So subtle, congratulations. “I’m just searching for a friend. She owes me a bit of money and she’s been avoiding me for some time.”

You were impressed at the ease that the lie left your tongue. At the same time, you had been doing that for five months now — keeping your distance from mentioning anything Taehyung, figuring out excuses to get away from your friends at the weirdest of times — , so you guessed that was something that came with practice.

“You want me to beat her up?” Hyejin offered. Just a glimpse was all that you needed to know that she was dead serious. “Give me her name. I promise I just wanna talk.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, chuckling at her aggressive demeanor. “It’s not a lot of money, I’m not super worried. I’m just tired of being avoided.”

She smirked, taking another slip from her cup. How didn’t the drink end yet? That cup was infinite. “You and me both, sister.”

Your lips parted, but, before you managed to let anything out, a loud sound of men screaming in excitement overlapped the beat of the electronic song. Hyejin met your eyes with a mixture of puzzlement and interest and, in an unspoken agreement, you two decided to see what the fuss was about.

Lucky for you, you two didn’t even have to take two steps to figure it out. Since the large opening to the living room was right besides you, all that you needed to do was to take a look through it, right at the kitchen, to see the beautiful, Animal Planet view of Hoseok drinking beer upside down.

“Hyejin?” You called calmly, eyes still glued to the spectacle.

“Yes, love?” She answered, absent-minded.

“You know who’s throwing this party, right?”

She shrugged. “I might.”

You suspired, taking a step back so you could stare at her. Behind you, people walked towards the kitchen, pumped to see if Hoseok could drink the entire thing (as if he didn’t do that in every single party he throwed). “So, there’s any other reason why you dragged me to Hoseok’s party, besides one that you needed someone to keep you company while you waited to be dicked down?”

“Great deduction, Sherlock.” She smiled, eyes shining in enthusiasm. You looked at Hoseok, then back at Hyejin. Maybe she wouldn’t have any grounds to judge you and Taehyung after that circus performance. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about that.” You crossed your arms. Seokjin, who was holding Hoseok by the ankles, pterodactyl-screeched in joy as the boy reached the end of the beer. Two more slips and he’d be good to go. “You sent him the tit pic, didn’t you?”

Hyejin licked her lips, taking a hand up to fix her hair. “I’m only human,” she said. “Besides, I had already invested a lot on him. I even did a full body shave. I couldn’t just not do it.”

You laughed at the idea, watching as she became more and more distracted by the man. A group had already formed around Hoseok, and you knew it was just a matter of when Hyejin would do the same.

“What happened about being over all men?” You asked.

“Yeah, yeah… After tonight. Right now I’m planning to get under one.” She gave you her neon green cup with a harsh movement, and you held it without thinking much about it. “I’ll see you later, Y/N. Hold my drink for me.”

“Have a great night, I guess,” you raised the sound of your voice as she began to walk away. “Text me when you get home!”

She responded without turning back, giving you a thumbs up over her head. “You too, girlie!”

And, just like that, she was gone.

Disappointed but not surprised, you sighed and placed your body back against the wall. From the kitchen, a roaring applause exploded, and you knew that Hoseok had finished his Herculean task. Good for him.

You stared down. The sharp shade of green reflected on the skin of your hands, looking like something straight out of Chernobyl. You took the cup to your nostrils and gave it an experimental sniff, your nose cringing at the appalling smell. Fighting the disgust that had built in your stomach, you quickly took it away from your face, and decided to place it on a table nearby. No wonder Hyejin was so out of it, the poor girl was suffering from radiation poisoning.

The Chainsmorkers started to play and you asked yourself why the fuck was Satan in charge of the music. All around you, strangers fumbled to the rhythm of the song, a girl even falling to her knees at one bad turn of the ankle, then turning her gaze up at her friends and laughing maniacally. The odor that enveloped you was strong and nauseating — Axe body spray, probably — and the thumping of the sound was starting to get annoying. Since you were alone with your thoughts, there wasn’t much left besides to hyperfocus on those details, which was all but a pleasant pastime.

You crossed your arms, bored out of your mind, and thought that it might be the wiser decision to go back to your place and just sleep the night off. Yeah, the semester was already ending, most of your tests and projects had passed, but that didn’t mean you weren’t completely exhausted at all the accumulated stress you had endured. Now that Hyejin had moved on with her plan, you didn’t have much of a part to play in that party anyways.

A couple almost tripped on you as they giggled their way towards the stairs, probably searching for an available room. What a nice reminder. You pressed your lips together, then peaked back at the kitchen, where you only saw Seokjin, Namjoon and Jungkook leaning over a pile of red cups — Yoongi right behind them, seeming like he was about to kick the whole thing down. You didn’t know where Taehyung was, but he most likely already left with someone else.

You turned back to your previous position, crossing your arms in frustration. Great. Your friend was after her sexting partner, and your own booty call was probably balls deep inside someone else by then. Really, there wasn’t much that you could do in there. It would be better if you just left while your dignity was still intact.

With a sigh, you pushed your body away from the wall, fumbling with your purse. You were praying that Hyejin remembered to give you the car keys, otherwise you would be trapped in that place for god knows how lo—

Oh there he fucking was.

The moment that you saw Taehyung, sitting on the couch across the room from you, it was like you forgot to breathe for a moment. That little demon incarnated looked better than you had anticipated — dressed in all black, with his thighs spread across the seat, ready to be fucked right then and there. His dark hair was parted in the middle, a few stubborn strands falling over his angelic features, and his thumb distractedly circled his lower lip as his gaze navigated around the room, staring at nothing in particular. Next to him, you could see another one of his friends — Jimin, if you were not mistaken — talking about something animatedly, but the other man was paying no attention.

His expression was one of irritation, you noticed, with his thick eyebrows moving together, jaw clenching. It was pretty erotic, if you said so yourself. You didn’t know what Jimin was telling him, but you sure hoped he wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

When he saw you, however, Taehyung’s perceived annoyance instantly dissipated.

With your mind racing in anticipation, you watched as his eyes met your own, then trailed down your body with desire, stopping around the level of your thighs for a bit longer than you had predicted. You knew that stare awfully well — it was the same one that Taehyung gave you when he saw you around campus, the silent provocation that told you, and only you, that he really wanted to have some alone time right now.

A sly smirk sprouted at the corner of his lips, and he leaned back against the couch. You followed his movements as he reached towards his pocket and came back with his phone, staring at you as he did so. The phantasmagoric white light casted odd shadows over his face as he unlocked it, taking a final glance at your expectant features before he started to type something. Once he was done, he locked his phone and placed it back where it had come from.

Inside your purse, your own phone beeped happily.

You licked your lips, trying your best to forge indifference as you reached for your device. You swore you could still feel his eyes still burning on you, impatient and deep, watching your every move with eagerness.

[00:23] Taehyung: so glad to see that you came bby

[00:23] Taehyung: do me a favor and meet me in the bathroom upstairs, will ya? Second door to the right ;)

Yep, new plans: you would stay there a bit longer.

Hammering against your chest, your heart seemed as if it was about to jump out of your mouth by the time that you turned your attention back to the couch. Taehyung, however, had already gotten up, and you had the chance to take a last glance towards his beautiful form as he walked towards the stairs. Jimin, from the couch, appeared to be as lost as they come.

From the kitchen, the resounding complaint of the group you had seen before ruptured your hypnotized state — Yoongi had, in fact, kicked everything down. Taken aback by the carnality that permeated your chest, you locked your phone without typing an answer and leaned back against the wall, deciding it would be best to wait a minute or two before following him upstairs. Amongst your thoughts, a part of you was still judging whether you adored or despised Kim Taehyung, and the intoxicating effect he had on you.

Finally, you decided to take the stairs. You wondered, as you opened your way through the ocean of sweaty bodies and spilling drinks, if you weren’t trying too hard to rationalize and catastrophize something that was actually very simple. It was a story with a start, a middle part, and a satisfying ending: you two wanted to fuck each other, you did, then you moved right on. No hidden feelings, no strings attached. That was it. Couldn’t get any better than that.

Regardless, it wasn’t everything about that, and you knew it. It was about overhearing other girls talking as you made your way upstairs, complaining about how ridiculously hot he was, or about how he didn’t call them back after he gave them the best night of their lives. It was about having that steamy, trembling secret between the two of you. It was about knowing that yeah, Taehyung was crazy hot — and you could have that whenever you wanted. It was about hearing him complain about his friends, who told him that you’d never give him a chance, and seeing the delectable pleasure in which he vangloriared himself, knowing very well that you and him had a second life to share whenever suited.

You reached the second floor with electric currents running through your veins, anticipation building like a tidal wave inside your abdomen. You two had never done something like that so close to so many people and, yet, you adored the idea even more.

The cold metal of the door handle met the palm of your hand and you tried it once, twice, with no effect. After looking at the corridor and making sure that Taehyung was nowhere else to be seen — besides the fact that, if he didn’t manage to get the bathroom, he would surely text you a different location — you were left to assume that he wanted to know that it was you who waited at the other side.

With a sigh, you took your phone out of your purse. Maybe your fingers weren’t as steady as you’d like them to be, but no one needed to know about that.

[00:27] You: plz open the door thx

Expectantly, you placed your phone back and tried to overhear some sort of sound signifying that he was moving closer to the door — but the song was so loud that you could barely understand your own thoughts. The next seconds that you stood there, just waiting for him to open the door, had been the longest ones you had endured in your life.

Eventually, however, the door creaked open.

You gave one last, paranoid glimpse at the strangers in the corridor, but none of them seemed to notice that Taehyung hadn’t left the bathroom by the time that you came in, locking the door behind you.

It was like stepping into a different reality. The lights inside the bathroom were absurdly bright when compared to the dim environment that expanded outside; the obnoxious song and chatter had instantly morphed into a muted exclamation outside of the door, only the reverberation of the bass making itself present. Just like the calm before the storm, there was a moment of tranquility between the instant that you locked the door, and the one that you saw him.

As you turned around, dwelling in his proximity, you thought about a million things at the same time — about teasing him about his location choice, or maybe about how he must’ve been going through a drought, if he had to count on his covert booty call to get laid in a party. You thought about how gorgeous he looked, about how his eyes glistened in interest as he took a quiet step towards you, his roseate tongue coming out to lick his lips.

Regardless, before you could say anything, Taehyung’s lips were on your own, attacking your mouth in a fervorous kiss. You whimpered in surprise as he pushed you against the closed bathroom door, his hands circling your waist as he squeezed your body against his. Your purse fell on the ground with a muffled sound, but you barely even noticed it.

Taehyung had always been an intense kisser to say the least, but that night it was something else. That night, he was kissing you as if he physically couldn’t contain himself long enough to do anything else; as if all that he could think of doing was to feel the heavenly contact of your mouth against his, your fingers pulling on the strands of his hair. As he invited his tongue inside your mouth, Taehyung groaned and lowered his hands, squeezing your ass like he was about to lose every last ounce of sanity he had left in him.

You sighed as he moved his focus onto your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses in a way that you knew would leave a mark the next day. “Someone’s excited,” you commented, slightly breathless. Your only response was another groan, and the rolling of his hips against you, where you could feel his cock, already semi-hard, pressing against your inner thigh. “Couldn’t even bother to take me somewhere else.”

One of his hands moved up to your hair, pulling your head sideways so he could have a better access to your neck. “I need to have you now,” his deep voice came out muffled against your skin, the reverberations of his timbre propagating directly towards your center.

“You’re starting to get more adventurous with this.” You bit down on your lower lip and he sucked your flesh, groping your ass once again. “Parties used to be so off limits to you.”

Taehyung chuckled against your neck, moving back towards your mouth. He started making out with you again, his breath hot and heavy against your face, and you thought you could very well pass out at the level of craving that had built inside you. “I changed my mind.” He spoke as he leaned back.

You smirked at his attitude. “We’ll end up getting caught.”

“Aw, baby.” He pouted, looking at you with artificial pity. Okay, he could be kind of a prick sometimes. “You’re the one who’s worried. And you came all the way up here because you wanted to. You know I’m not one to insist.”

“I can leave, then?” You raised one eyebrow, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“You can, the door is right behind you,” Taehyung told you, quickly losing interest in that conversation. “But something tells me you won’t.”

You didn’t even try to respond, because there was nothing to be said: both of you knew what you were doing there, and the idea of walking out was just too ridiculous to consider.

With a suspire, you watched as Taehyung moved his lips down your chest, stopping at the fabric of your blouse.

“What if someone hears us?’ You suddenly remembered, heartbeat quickening at the thought.

“What is it, baby?” He asked as his fingers worked on your buttons, exposing more of your torso. That slow pace of his was going to kill you one of those days. “You’re worried that people are going to find out about this? About us?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his chuckle — so deep and melodious — caught you off guard.

“How scandalous, right? Y/N is not the pure little thing she makes herself to be,” Taehyung continued, finally opening your blouse and fully exposing your bra to him. He licked his lips at the sight, humming with delight. “Red lace? You really want to tease me.”

You swallowed dry as the man took the fabric off your shoulders and gently placed besides the sink, above a towel. He could be so thoughtful sometimes. “Taehyung, I—“

“You’re such a little brat sometimes, do you know that?” he interrupted, eyes following his own movements as his hands circled your body, moving to unclasp your bra. And of course he got it right on the first try. “You came all the way up here just to get fucked, and now you’re worried that people are going to know about it.”

You stared him down, a smirk already creeping up at the corner of your lips. “How does that make me a brat?”

He chuckled. “Look at you, trying to play the naive card on me.” Another agile movement of his fingers and your bra was joining your blouse besides the sink. Taehyung sighed tentatively at the image of your exposed breasts, trying to imprint that sight into the back of his mind. “Pretending as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. You can drop the act now, baby.”

“I don’t—“

His mouth attacking your breasts was all that you needed to shut up and let him do what he went there to do. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you let out a gasp as his hand squeezed you, playing with your soft boobs as he moaned against your skin.

“I love it so much.” Taehyung hummed as he sucked on your breasts, moaning at the marvelous sensation of your warm skin against his tongue. You had almost forgotten how much Taehyung ached to play with your boobs; how often he would squeeze them, suck them; find excuses to feel them against his body. Not that you were complaining. “And I love that it’s all for me.” He breathed out before attacking your other nipple. “All of this… all mine.”

You whimpered at the contact, arching your back in a failed attempt to get closer to him. As much as you knew he was most likely just saying whatever he thought would turn you on — besides, you two had already agreed on a pretty open “relationship” —, Taehyung’s words expanded inside your chest, building a heat that seemed to suffocate you. Even if you knew it was bullshit, you liked to be called his. Ego strokes and all of that.

“Taehyung…” There was only a thin wooden door separating you two from the outside world, and you couldn’t care less if they heard you calling out his name. That boy really did wonders to your anxiety.

But he also liked to tease you.

He moved away from your breasts and you almost — almost — cried out in frustration.

Taehyung traced his kisses back to your neck, then to your jawline. You were going crazy with all that back and forth. “Baby, I’m not gonna lie, I understand where you’re coming from,” he said. “I like to keep this as a secret too. It’s so hot.”

You almost forgot how to inhale when he aligned his face with yours, placing a pec on your swollen lips. “Yeah?” You asked, sounding as if you were in a daydream.

“Yeah,” he agreed, breathless. Even if Taehyung tried his best to look as he was under absolute control, you knew that he couldn’t keep that front for too long. He was clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh was all of the proof that you needed. “It’s so great to know that I have one of the sexiest girls on campus just for myself…” His hand trailed up your thighs, adventuring in the lands beneath your skirt. “And no one knows.”

You bit your lower lip, anticipating the contact of his hand against your core. “I thought you were the kind to kiss and tell.”

“Most times,” he mumbled, gifting you with another small pec. “Not with you. I like it like this. Having you when I want, how I want, and only you and I know.”

But you weren’t satisfied with his answer. His hand did a turn and decided to make a quick stop on your ass, the feeling of skin against skin making your lower body tingle. “What’s so enticing about it?” You asked.

He smiled. “Ah… many things.”

Your stare didn’t falter. “I’d like an exemple.”

Instead of answering you straight away, Taehyung decided to take his sweet time. He leaned his head to the side and kissed you feverishly, growing satisfied at the small whimpers and suspires that echoed in between your mouths. His hands were all over you: on your ass, your waist, down your thighs and up your hips, where his eyes could not see. You only had your skirt and your panties on, and it was so frustrating to still feel him fully dressed against you.

At last, Taehyung pulled away, placing his forehead against yours. As he spoke, you felt the tingle of his hands as they moved towards the hem of your panties. “I like seeing you walk around campus, knowing that you’re so sore from the night before,” he spoke slowly, his voice in a low vibration against your mouth. “And I know you don’t tell any of your friends about it. About how I fucked you so good that you almost cried, and that it’s the next day, and you can barely walk.”

You hummed, closing your eyes. “What else?”

Much to your dismay, his hands left your underwear again, coming out to pull you closer. “When you send me those audios late at night,” he was breathing out hard then, drowning in those lewd memories. “Playing with your little cunt, crying out my name… shit,” he cursed. “How am I supposed to say no to that? So there I go, out the door, telling my friends that I’m gonna see this crazy hot chick and I’m gonna fuck her brains out…” he hesitated. “And I just get this... rush because they don’t know it’s you.”

“And how do you know that I like any of it?” You teased.

Taehyung chuckled at your question. Both of you knew that it was plastered all over your face, but he could keep up that little teasing if you wanted to. “Two reasons,” he said. “First: you do the same to me, or don’t you?”

“I don’t recall,” you responded, forging innocence. Okay, maybe you did play the naive part a bit much.

“Oh no? What a terrible memory you have.” He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his words hitting your skin in heated, libidinous waves. Taehyung was so close that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to, his torso squeezed so tight against yours that you wondered how you even managed to breathe in that position. “It was just last week, baby. You called me to your flat after your roommate had left.” One of his hands went back to play with the hem of your underwear, fingertips feeling like lit matches against your skin. “You opened so wide for me, you were so wet already. You got so horny with just the thought of having my cock, isn’t that right?”

Much to your surprise, your voice came out a lot more steady than you had expected. “Don’t flatter yourself, you don’t know that.”

Taehyung chuckled, placing his warm, swollen lips against the skin of your neck. “I don’t,” he agreed, digits pressing against your clothed clit. You knew he could feel how soaked your panties had become, so there was no reason to keep that up. Regardless, you kind of liked it. “But I do remember how much you wanted me that night, whining and begging me to fill you up with my cock. How many times did I fuck you that night, uh? Four? Five times? And you just had to keep quiet, because your neighbors might have been listening. That was so cute.”

You sighed, your insides in knots over the tension you were sustaining. You hated him sometimes. Hated how good he was. “I wasn’t counting.”

“I know, baby.” He swiftly pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, his long fingers digging into your wet heat. Memories of them fucking you open flooded your mind, sending a shockwave directly through your torso and towards your pussy. “And this right here, baby, is the second reason. Look at this: you’re soaked.” His digits moved, teasing your entrance, and the sound was so lewd that you had to suppress a moan. “You’re always so ready to take me. I love that. You’re so good to me.”

God, you were about to lose it.

With the force of then thousand warriors, you held back another less-than-graceful sound from escaping your lips. You knew how much Taehyung liked you being loud (something to do with the adrenaline of getting caught, nothing new to see here), and so you had to keep your cool. It wouldn’t be so fun if you just gave him everything he wanted.

“So quiet all of a sudden.” His nose delicately trailed up your neck, his mouth meeting the angle of your jaw in hot, open kisses. In an attempt to ground yourself, your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging through his shirt. You could still feel Taehyung’s fingers playing with your wet folds, seeing how much you could take before you were begging for them to enter you. You hated him. Or not. You didn’t know. “I know I leave you speechless, baby, but I wanna hear you too.”

Strong and steady, his other hand met the curvature of your waist, pressing your body against his. In a mindless reflex, you perked up your ass at the contact, making his fingers slip closer to your soaking entrance.

“Nothing? Baby, you’re especially irresistible tonight.” Taehyung’s eyes were somewhat dazed, unfocused and hooded. He appeared as if he was two seconds away from fucking you raw against the wall, and you seriously wouldn’t mind. “You know why I called you here?”

“Because you want to fuck me,” you responded without missing a beat.

“I do, of course.” He placed his forehead against yours, and you whimpered weakly as two of his fingers finally (finally!) made their way into your heat, stretching you nicely. “That’s it, baby, don’t hold back.”

Instead of answering, another slow, delicious moan dripped like honey from your tongue. Taehyung grunted, satisfied at your responses, and quickened the pace inside your walls; your eyelashes fluttering shut at the ambrosial sensation. He had told you once about how much he liked that part: knowing that you were getting ready for his cock, but already so eager to cum around his fingers.

Did he tell you that while he fingered you inside his car? Yes. Did anyone else have to know that? Absolutely not.

“You know what I was doing before I came here?” His question caught you off guard.

You didn’t even know if you were able to answer for a second, but, happily, the word didn’t have any issue coming out. “What?”

He took a deep, sharp breath, curling his fingers inside you. You pressed your back against the door at the shock of his digits brushing against your sensitive spot, one of your hands flying to your mouth in a way to suppress a particularly loud exclamation of pleasure. “I was listening to Jimin complain about how much he wanted to have you in his bed tonight,” his voice came out in a harsh tone, full of spikes and pointed corners. “Over and over, like a broken record. He can be so explicit when he wants to. It’s unbearable.”

You bit your bottom lip, rolling your hip against his hand. Your body was starting to tingle, the muscles in your legs turning into jello, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. As you spoke, you noticed touches of bliss ornamenting your syllables, your words coming out with a bit more difficulty than before. “Oh, so you’re jealous?” You teased.

“Me? Never,” he was quick to respond, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching around him; his cock throbbing painfully against the fabric of his pants. “I’m just… trying to change your mind.”

“My mind?” You echoed, only half-aware of that conversation. Pleasure was starting to build in alarming rates, and you were starting to lose your trail of thought. “I haven't even decided anything yet.”

“After I’m done, baby, you won’t need to,” his voice came out in a profound whisper, sounding like a sweet melody against your ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard and slow, so deep,” he stressed that word, making your pussy throb around his fingers at the idea, “that you won’t want to have anyone else for the night. Only me.”

It sounded a bit like possessiveness or jealousy to you, but, honestly, you chose not to pick that conversation for the night. It was probably some kind of acting on his part too. Besides, you weren’t interested in any of Taehyung’s friends, so he didn’t need to worry about Jimin, or anyone else, making a move — especially when he was fingering you so well that you were about to forget your name.

“And the best part, baby, is that no one will even know it,” he continued, separating his fingers slightly so he could scissor you. Against your best judgement, your knees were getting weaker by the minute, the knot in your abdomen about to untie. “Just you and I. Just the two of us will know how much you begged to be filled up with my cock, how wet you already are just for my fingers.”

“Taehyung,” you called out, hands tangling themselves in the roots of his silky hair. You moaned out his name again, your voice coming out in such a promiscuous tone that he felt as if he was about to cum on the spot. God, Taehyung loved hearing the effect he had on you. “I’m close.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered against your ear. His voice was so hoarse, so permeated by desire, that you knew that he was holding back too. His cock was hard and throbbing against your legs, and every minor movement of your thigh against his erection was enough for him to lose his breath for a moment. “But I don’t want you to cum, not yet.”

Again, he pulled away.

Taehyung wanted you to complain, to whine about the lack of contact or the warmness of his body — and so, just because you knew that it was his plan, you didn’t do any of that.

You didn’t say a word as he moved his fingers away from your wetness, his other hand coming down to grope your ass. You didn’t flinch when he looked you deep inside your eyes, guiding his fingers between your lips, watching as your mouth obediently took them in, humming as you sucked your own wetness, never breaking eye contact.

“Fuck,” he cursed, drowing in the sensation of your warm tongue licking his fingers. You didn’t think that Taehyung was fully aware of the way that his hips had rolled against yours, fighting for relief. “You’re so fucking hot, it’s unreal.”

And you knew that he said that praise to every poor soul that crossed his path, but it still managed to have some effect on you. Again: you were human, and Taehyung knew what the fuck he was doing.

But so did you.

Before he could try and do anything else, you pressed your palms against his chest, gently pushing him a few steps away from you. Taehyung followed your lead, watching as you got down to your knees, facing his erection.

In measured, lackadaisical movements, you pressed your lips against his covered cock, feeling its handness against your mouth. Air got stuck in Taehyung’s throat as he watched you, like a hungry lion, as you undid his pants and pulled them down, gifting you with the sight of his white boxers.

Just because you knew he liked it, you moaned at the glorious sight of his big, heavy cock already so hard and ready for you; fingers caressing the tip of his member, where a small stain of precum already started to form. Taehyung was so on the edge that he hissed at the contact, one of his hands meeting the back of your head in a mindless impulse. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

“Oh, so you can and I can’t?” You leaned your head to the side, and planted a kiss on his cock before looking up at him. May the heavens have mercy on you, because you never saw Taehyung so pissed off and turned on at the same time. “I think I could even make you cum like this if I wanted to. I’ve done it before.”

“Don’t you dare,” he struggled to get out.

“What? You liked when I did that the other times,” you cooled. “Sometimes you didn’t even need my mouth.”

He closed his eyes, trying to fight the moan that started to climb up his throat. “Stop.”

“What? You don’t remember?” You asked, placing another kiss on his member, closer to tip that time. “When I let you grind against my ass in the library? You came just by humping me, pants and all.”

With a cute smile, your hand squeezed his dick, before moving up and down, following its thick outline. Taehyung was dumbfounded, left to watch as your delicate hands worked on his erection with unbearable patience, his eyes glued to every action that you made — the fluttering of your eyelashes, the innocent gazes that you threw his way every time your lips met the cotton of his underwear. If you kept it up for long enough, he was sure he would cum all over his boxers.

Still, the gods above had heard his prayers, and Taehyung watched as you pulled his underwear down. Without a second of hesitation, you moaned as your tongue licked him all the way from the base to the top, lips enveloping his crown as you sucked on it ever so slightly.

“Oh, fuck,” he cried out, fingers pulling on your hairstrands. “That’s good, fuck.”

You hummed, content at his reaction, and pushed him deeper inside your warm mouth, one of your hands holding at the base of his cock. Beneath your other palm, you could feel as the muscles of his thigh tensed up at the sensation. His lips open slighlty, allowing for a long, erotic moan to echo inside the bathroom as you started to set a pace, sucking him slowly, just like you knew it drove him mad.

“You’re so fucking good at this, baby,” Taehyung groaned, unable to keep his eyes open for much longer. The vision of him was ethereal: head thrown back, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows forming an expression of sheer pleasure and concentration. You cursed your own eyes as they started to water, preventing you from watching him a bit further. “Oh, that’s right, just like that.. you suck me so well, fuck.”

The pulsating, unsatisfied sensation of need between your thighs only grew, your walls clenching around nothing and your heart beating fast against your chest. You could taste as his precum leaked inside your mouth, his fragmented breaths and whines showing you that Taehyung also wasn’t made of steel. As much as you’d like to see him cum soon, you also needed to be taken care of.

After a particularly hard suck, you pulled your mouth away from his member, and looked up at him. The lack of contact was all that Taehyung needed to open his eyes and stare down at you, surprised at the interruption of his pleasure.

“Taehyung,” you tried your best to make your voice sound as pure and sensual as you could. His eyes widened slightly at the sound — no matter how hard he tried to make it seem like he was annoyed by that saint act of yours, you knew that it drove him insane. “I want you to fuck me now, please.”

You watched as his face presented a thousand emotions at the same time, and then eventually settled on the cool, controlled dominance you adored so much. Another surge of pleasure ran down your body, much stronger this time, and the feeling of your soaked panties against your pussy was making you go insane with anticipation.

“I love it when you ask politely.” He placed his hand on your chin, trailing your lower lip with his thumb. “Get up, baby,” he commanded.

Without an ounce of hesitation, you did as you were told, letting your body be guided by his large hands.

Taehyung turned you around and leaned you against the sink, positioning himself behind you. “Back to me, ass up,” he said, “Keep it like this, alright?”

You nodded, unsure that you could say anything else.

“Good girl.” Taehyung once again held your chin up, making you stare at your own reflection in the mirror for a second before your eyes traveled towards his. God, he was an absolute mess. In the best of ways. “I want you to look at it.”

Any second now, your legs would give out and you would crash down on the floor — or, at least, that’s the sensation you had. It was unbearable to watch as Taehyung took his time removing his shirt; then your skirt and your panties, dripping them down your legs one by one, his mouth so deliciously close to your heat that you felt like you could faint.

“So pretty,” he mumbled to himself, watching your pussy with desire. “So fucking wet.”

“I want to feel you, please.” You arched your back, throwing your hips closer to his.

“Like this, baby?” With a glorious roll of his hips against yours, you felt as his cock moved in between your folds, his head only touching your clit slightly. The sensation alone was enough to make you perk your ass up at him, a motion that wasn’t left unnoticed by his part.

He smirked at your reaction. “Such a pure little thing, aren’t you?” Taehyung’s hands palmed your ass, moving like snakes towards your waist, where they held you in place. Another roll of his hips and the contact of his dick against your clit made your knees buckle. “You’re so polite, just asking for my cock again and again… You don’t even notice how wet you get thinking about it, grinding against it. Isn’t that so?”

You had no option but to agree, lowering your head to look at the marble sink beneath you. “Yeah,” your voice came out in a pathetic whine, but you couldn’t even care about it. You just wanted to feel him inside you. “It’s all for you, Taehyung.”

“Good girl,” he praised, taking one of his hands to guide his cock towards your opening. Expectant, you held your breath, but he didn’t slide in just yet. “Just tell me what you want, come on.” Again, he leaned in and pushed your chin up. “And look at me while you say that.”

Obediently, you did. Taehyung was a greek god then. Under the pale yellow lights of the bathroom, his lips were swollen and red, the lower one being bit lightly by his teeth; his entire expression permeated by lust as he dove into the sensation of his cock teasing your entrance. He stared at you like you were good enough to eat, his eyes coruscating with so much hunger that you couldn’t even think about anything else but him. No wonder you kept coming back. His entire presence was engulfing every fiber of your being.

Maybe Kim Taehyung did have a golden dick, after all.

“I want you to fuck me, Taehyung,” a sentence had never been so clear, so sincere. From the corner of your eye, you could see your own face, desperate and pleading, as you fumbled closer to his member. “Please. I need to feel you inside me.”

With a hum, he kissed the nape of your neck. “Whatever my girl wants.”

And, before you could even think about his words, your thoughts were broken as you moaned out his name, feeling as his big cock stretched you, hitting all the right spots. You had missed that sensation so much, of being so full of him, so hypnotized by the movements of his body against yours, that you didn’t even compute the shuddering breath that departed from his mouth, nor the curse that he had let out once he felt the warmness of your walls around his aching member.

He thought he could lose his last ounces of sanity as he pulled out just enough to leave only his tip in, before throwing his lips against yours and filling you back up. Soon enough, Taehyung was setting a rhythm, unable to control his comments as he kept thrusting inside you.

“So tight, baby,” he spoke in a whisper, almost as if you weren’t supposed to hear it. His face in the mirror was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen: Taehyung was so lost in pleasure that his features had morphed into an expression of sheer bliss; all of his concentration directed at the movements of your body, the way that your walls held him with so much desire. “You take my cock so well… Shit, you’re making me go crazy.”

Taehyung’s breath quivered and he leaned his body towards you, fighting for balance. He had one of his hands on your waist, and the other was holding down to the sink, leveling his figure as he started to thrust into you in that different angle — just as slow, hard and deep as he had promised.

You rolled your head back once he hit the right spot inside you, your moans going up an octave. “Fuck, right there, Taehyung,” you whined, barely aware of the volume of your voice. To hell with it, the music was too loud anyways. “There, right there, don’t stop.”

“Here?” He groaned, thrusting in the exact place that made you cry out. “That’s it, baby, let it out.”

And you wanted to prolong that moment for as long as you could, but, truth was, he had played around with you enough that you knew you wouldn’t last much. Even sucking his cock, feeling as he mumbled and trembled under your touches, had been enough to keep you turned on. Again: you were only human, and the paradisiacal feeling of Taehyung’s cock filling you up to the brim, hitting your sweet spot with forceful thrusts, was a bit more than you could endure.

“Taehyung, I think I’m close,” you told him, feeling as your arms grew weaker beneath you. It was just a matter of time before your legs started shaking too. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Shh, that’s fine, baby.” He moved your hair away from your back, placing a trail of sloppy kisses on your shoulders. “Come on, cum around my cock. I want to feel you.”

“It’s so big, Taehyung,” you moaned, closing your eyes in defeat. You could tell that your pleasure was already building up too much, too fast. You couldn’t help it: he was stretching you so fantastically that every part of you was on overdrive, the pent-up tension of the entire night culminating in one long, edging orgasm.

“It’s all yours, baby, all of it,” he told you, guiding you towards your high. God, his voice was so hoarse, so sweet. “Cum for me, okay? And don’t hold back, I want to hear you.”

Just like that, you came with a loud moan and the calling of his name in a repetitive prayer, walls clenching around him in a way that made him lose his grip on reality. You whimpered at the pleasure, that now was gradually subsiding, and lowered your body against the marble, feeling how cold it was, how different it was from the rest of the bathroom.

“That’s it, baby, yeah… That was so fucking hot.” Taehyung groaned behind you, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He was moving you so hard that you could feel your hip bones being pressed against the corners of the marble surface, the dirty sound of wetness and skin against skin filling the ambient. “Look at all this… so wet and tight, even after coming so hard.”

From the way that Taehyung’s movements started to get sloppier, you could tell that he was losing himself in his own sense of pleasure, getting closer to his own climax. “All of this… all for me,” he moaned out, eyes glued to the motion of his cock coming in and out of your dripping center. “You’re so good, baby. Fuck, I could have you like this forever.”

The pounding of his hips against your ass was getting so intense that you could feel tears accumulating at the corners of your eyes, fingers trembling under the weight of overstimulation. Taehyung had fucked you hard before, but you just couldn’t get used to how fantastic it felt.

“I’m close,” he cried out behind you, his breath coming out in broken, tremulous expirations. “Can I cum on your mouth, baby? I want to see you swallow everything.”

You nodded, mouth salivating at the thought.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “That’s my girl.”

Taehyung pulled away from you and you moved fast, getting back down on your knees as he guided his cock, so red and swollen, against your lips.

You opened your mouth to accommodate him, taking his member slowly at first, thinking it would be better to adjust to its size. After that part was done — and Taehyung had already turned into a quivering mess above you — you proceeded to move your head, sucking his cock as hard as you could muster.

“That’s right, suck it,” he moaned, buckling his hips forward. The tip of his cock touched the back of your throat and you gagged, presenting Taehyung with one of the most gorgeous views he had seen all night. “Fuck, yeah— Take everything, baby, come on.”

You did, of course. You continued to suck Taehyung with a moderate pace — not so slow that it would kill him, but not so fast that it would kill you — and watched as he started to become undone under your touches. First, it were his trembling thighs, then the weakening of his grip on his head. You looked up at him with blurry eyes and watched as his lips fell open, moaning obscenities, and his eyes closed with intense concentration. It was just a matter of time before he—

“F-fuck!”

Taehyung spilled in your mouth and you struggled to swallow everything, just like he had told you to, whining at the feeling of his cock throbbing and twitching in between your lips. The discomfort between your thighs had resumed, pulsating inside your core in a silent need, but you didn’t think you’d have the stamina to deal with it right then and there.

You pulled your head away from his cock when he started wincing with sensitivity. With doll-like eyes, you met his hooded ones, glad to see the satisfaction and appreciation that was plastered all across his face. He always looked so good after sex, you realized, and you felt extremely satisfied to know that his fucked-out, blissful expression was all because of you.

In a gentle motion, Taehyung placed his thumb on your check, cleaning a bit of his cum, and brought it over to your lips. “You missed this bit,” he said.

You sucked his thumb clean without thinking twice, suddenly aware of how uncomfortable your knees felt. Above you, Taehyung smirked at the sensation of your mouth around his thumb, his other hand coming to place small caresses on your hair.

After he removed his thumb from your mouth, you got back to your feet. It crossed your mind that your legs might give out eventually, but, thankfully, they seemed a bit more firm than you had anticipated. “Better?” You asked.

“Perfect.” Taehyung kissed you, sighing against your mouth. He pulled away gradually, his body still moving a bit slow after everything you two had done. “You always are.”

“Aw, how nice of you.” You smiled at his compliment, walking towards your pile of clothes. The bathroom was starting to get cold, and the afterglow of sex couldn’t keep you warm for much longer. “Always with the compliments.”

He hummed in agreement, watching your naked body; your fingers holding that red bra he adored so much. “Any chance I could see you again this week?”

An incredulous laugh ruptured your lips as you clasped your bra behind your back. “We just had sex, and you’re already thinking about the next time?”

He shrugged. “I like to have a schedule.”

“I’ll think about it.” Your skirt moved up your legs, all the way up to your waistline. From the corner of your eyes, you could see as Taehyung fumbled with his own pants, which he now cursed for being inside out. Seems like he was only thoughtful when it came to your wardrobe. “It’s not like we usually know when this stuff is going to happen.”

There was a slight tremble in your fingertips as you reached for your blouse and placed it back on your body, but you decided to ignore it.

“I guess,” he mumbled.

You stared at your own reflection in the mirror as you started to close your buttons, somewhat amazed by the fact that it didn’t appear like you just had had sex. Yeah, your hair was all over the place, and maybe your neck was a bit too red in a few spots, but nothing that a bit of time wouldn’t fix. Could’ve been worse.

“Can you pass me some toilet paper?” You asked him, eager to clean the mess between your legs. There was no way in hell you were going to put your panties back on, even if the thought of going commando wasn’t exactly the most welcoming either.

Taehyung was sitting on the toilet lid, putting his pants back, and simply nodded in agreement before doing so. “I’d like to know, though,” he insisted.

You smiled, taking a cheeky glance at him. “Since when you’re so needy?”

He groaned. “I’m not needy, shut up”

“Well… You have my number.” You responded, throwing the paper in the trash after you had finished cleaning yourself up. “Call me whenever you’re feeling like it, and I’ll see what I can do.”

He pouted, clearly frustrated at the answer. “And what if you can’t make it?”

“Then you have two good hands to help you,” you answered simply, fingers working on adjusting your hair. The sound of his zipper closing echoed inside the cubicle. “Besides.. you can have this as a memory, if you’d like.”

You threw your red panties at him, watching as his face grew interested at the piece of wet cloth in his hands. Taehyung sighed, tugging his shirt back inside his pants. “You’re killing me,” he complained.

“Good.” You smiled, turning back at him. “How do I look? Presentable?”

He examined you for an instant, taking in the details of your form. “It doesn’t look like you just got fucked, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Great!” You swirled around, giving the mirror a last peek. You were getting suspiciously good at making it seem like you two never happened. “Have a nice night, Taehyung. Maybe wait like five minutes before leaving the bathroom. And don’t get too excited with the panties.”

Taehyung got up and walked closer to you, your underwear safely guarded in his hands. You were positive he would have fun with it later. “You’re going home already?” He asked.

“Yeah, you did a good job at making me tired.” The clicking of the lock was a pleasant reminder that no one tried to open the door during that time, so maybe your sexual shenanigans had been overlooked once again. “So don’t worry. I’m in need of a good night of sleep. I’m not spending any time with your horny friends.”

Taehyung chuckled, leaning closer to you. “I was kind of exaggerating about that Jimin part for dramatic effect, but alright.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Good night. Thanks for the panties.”

You laughed. “You’re welcome.”

Just like that, you were out the door, and the moments you had shared in that bathroom with Taehyung had been placed inside a capsule. No one noticed you as you walked through the corridor, past the few strangers still around, and down the stairs, where the party had clearly lost its initial olympian proportions.

Cups and pieces of paper were thrown all over the floor, and you watched as people stumbled around, trying to find some sort of balance against the walls. No matter how many Hoseok Parties you went to, you were always amazed at the way that they were quick to be set ablaze, but equally quick to burn off. It was like premature ejaculation, in the weirdest and saddest of ways.

Still, you weren’t expecting to see a recognizable face at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hyejin,” you called, surprised to see your friend around. “Thought you would’ve gone to bed with Hoseok by now.”

Seeming as dumbfounded as you, she followed your movements as you walked down the terminal steps, finally reaching the first floor of the house. There was a weird shadow of discomfort casted over her features, and you thought it had something to do with Hoseok. “Uh… Not really,” she told you. “I just want to go home, actually.”

“You and I both.” You placed one of your arms around her shoulder, guiding her towards the front door. “Let’s go, this place has already peaked, anyway.”

She suspired, her lips pouting. “Thanks.”

A few minutes of silence expanded between the two of you as you walked out of the house and into the front lawn, where a sea of trash had already taken over a few chunks of grass. You didn’t know how or why, but someone had brought an inflatable pool, and there was only one solitary purple dildo swimming in it. What a sad sea creature, you thought, before your attention was pulled back to your friend.

Hyejin switched uncomfortably in your arms, hugging her own body in a way to shield herself from the gelid breeze of the night. You looked at her with care, watching as her face contorted at sight of the street lights, magnifying the odd expression that had taken over her. “Tell me what happened between you two,” you asked tenderly. “You don’t seem too happy about it.”

Your friend hesitated and, suddenly, you felt bad for pressuring her. At the same time, you were worried that something bad had happened. “Yeah… so… apparently he thought he was texting a different person,” she told you. You could tell that she was having a hard time speaking. “It was kind of a mess, actually. He said that in front of everyone. I’m glad you weren’t there to see it.”

Suddenly, you recognized that expression as being pure, unshakable humiliation. That must’ve been an ugly moment, really, since Hyejin wasn’t one to break easily. The booze probably didn’t help her emotional state either.

“Hyejin, I’m so sorry. He really is a fucking idiot for treating you like that.” You squeezed her body against yours in an awkward sideways hug. She eased into your touch, shoulders falling under the weight of your comforting words. “That really sucks. We can find a way to kill him, if you want. I’d hide the body and never talk about it again.”

Even if she chuckled at the idea, you could tell she wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Yeah… I don’t think I want to talk about that right now.” She cleared her throat, hugging her own body with a bit more force. The car was just a few steps away from the two of you, and you were beyond glad that you had managed to find a spot so close to the house. “Anyways… there’s something else. I went to find you earlier, when it all went down, so we could go home.”

You pressed your lips together, guilt hitting you like a punch in the gut. “Sorry, I was upstairs.”

“Yeah, I realized that once I didn’t find you,” she continued. Hyejin’s voice was weak, her syllables slightly disconnected. She often spoke like that once intoxication and exhaustion joined in a horrible after-party dance. “I went up and searched around for you, but I… uh…”

The two of you finally reached the vehicle, and you removed your arm from around her so you could move towards the driver’s side. You frowned at her hesitation, watching her over the roof of the car. “What is it?” You asked.

“I needed to use the bathroom…” she trailed off. Her tone was almost inaudible. “And I…”

You opened your purse, squinting your eyes to try and find the car key amidst the dimly-lit street. “And?”

“The door was locked.” She gawked at you, eyes suddenly growing serious. You didn’t like drunk-Hyejin, with her unstable moods and abrupt expression switches. It was watching a horror movie sometimes. “Because you were in there.”

Oh, you seriously didn’t want to have that conversation at that moment.

Finally, you found the key and unlocked the car. The sound was like a gunshot through the night, your pulse starting to pick up the pace. You knew where she was heading towards now, but it’s not like she could be sure that it was you in there. You’d deny until the end of time.

“What makes you think that it was me?” You questioned, opening the door.

This time, she didn’t hesitate to respond. “I heard you.”

Oh. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—

Keep your cool. It’s okay. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You don’t?” She started to raise her voice, clearly pissed off. You two were arriving at stage two of drunk Hyejin: past the sad introspection, and into banshee level. “I had to pee on the disgusting bathroom downstairs because you were fucking someone in there! I had to wait twenty minutes in line! And you lied to me! You told me you didn’t have a dick appointment!”

“Shhh! Stop yelling!” You asked, exasperated. The night was too cold and the streets were too empty. You just wanted to go home before someone heard you. All that it needed was one half-assed comment from Taehyung about him going to the upstairs bathroom, plus someone interested enough to connect the dots, and your little secret would be up. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, okay? Now, please, get in the car, you’re super drunk.”

Before Hyejin could protest, which you were sure she would, you sank down on your seat, running away from her judgemental semblance. The thought of just driving off in sheer panic crossed your mind, but you quickly ignored it. You couldn’t leave her alone in that place, especially in the inebriated state she was in. No matter how much you really, really wanted to.

Your friend followed your lead and sat down on the passenger seat, watching as you closed your door and checked the mirrors, avoiding her gaze with all your might. She sighed. “I don’t understand… Why didn’t you go somewhere else for that? People need to pee, you know? Or, I don’t know, puke… or maybe even—“

You threw your purse on the backseat, sighing in exasperation. That conversation was the last thing you needed after that night. “I don’t think it matters right now—“

“It does matter! I could’ve gotten a urinary tract infection.” Hyejin banged the door by her side, and you could tell she simply wasn’t measuring her force right. She groaned, lazily adjusting her body on the seat. “Now, you have to tell me who it was. It’s the minimum you can do.”

You almost choked on your own saliva. She really was out of it. “Like I’d ever do something like that.”

Silence grew thick inside the car, falling above you like a blanket. Hyejin looked at you like you had just grown a second head, making sure that she wasn’t drunk enough to imagine you flat-out denying her an information so valuable. To be fair, it wasn’t like you to avoid questions or keep names from her — at least, not so openly. You knew that she wasn’t dumb, and that she could tell that something was up even in her intoxicated state.

“You’re really not gonna say?” She tried again, still struggling to keep her speech tied together. It was only a matter of time before she calmed down and fell asleep, and so you wouldn’t have to deal with that subject any further. “You almost gave me an UTI, and now you’re not gonna say who you were with? I need to know if it was worth keeping the bathroom all to yourself, because I already told you, someone probably went up there trying to—“

“Shit, Hyejin! I get it, you, can stop now.” You clicked your seatbelt with a bit more aggression than necessary. “You’re drunk right now.”

You leaned over her and placed her seatbelt too, since you were pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to do it herself. Not with that poor movement precision.

“And?” She pressed on as you moved back to your seat. “You’re going to tell me once I’m sober or something?”

You laughed, placing one of your hands on the wheel. “No, of course not.”

“Fine!” She crossed her arms dramatically and looked out of the window, pouting like a child. “I hate you for not saying.”

“Well, I love you.” You looked at her, your own gaze navigating towards the window. Beyond the fogged glass, the house glowed in the most diverse colors, the sound of the bass reverberating inside your car like a distant pulse. You watched, heart clenching inside of your chest, as Taehyung stepped out of the front door with Jimin, his head hanging low and a smile at the corner of his lips. There was a volume at his front pocket, where you were sure he had tugged in your panties. “But now I think that we should go home and sleep. Let’s keep this conversation on hold.”

Hyejin, however, wasn’t satisfied. “You know that I’ll find out eventually,” she said, still looking out of the window. “I always do.”

You chuckled, turning on the engine of the car. On the other side of the street, the two boys took the opposite direction, leaving you two to stare at the open road before you. “Well, I’d love to see you try.”

#bts fic #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung fic #kim taehyung #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung scenarios #bts x you #bts x reader #reader insert #taehyung imagines #bts v #fuckboy taehyung #fratboy taehyung #college au #one shot

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iatasbcl · 5 years

Note

Howdy! Can I have an imagine for Connor and a gender neutral reader where the reader is best friends with Gavin but has a crush on Connor [RK800]? Could you put a bit of fluff in too? You can change it up if you want, that's cool. Thank you for considering.

The One Where You Confess

Pairing: Connor X Reader, Gavin Reed & Reader

Warnings: Insecurities, a lot of swearing, nothing else just badly written fluff lmao I’m sorry

A/N: Hi! I’m so sorry for not finishing this one way sooner ): It’s just that Uni started so I’m a bit busy! But yeah, thank you for requesting this love, hope ya enjoy it

W.C: 1.9k

“Gavin, if I hear anything else about Shrek in the next five minutes, I swear to god I will throw you into the trash then sit you on fire myself.” You said, holding your index up in the man’s face.

“Alright.” Your brows furrowed at how easily the detective was convinced, especially after hearing him quote Shrek for hours and hours since your marathon last night. You watched him as he went back to his desk and got out his phone. You supposed you could finally do some actual work, but your phone binged just as you reached for the terminal.

Hey watch this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaUR7h4WunY

You looked back to Gavin, what could he have possibly sent you now? he didn’t look your way and just stared into his computer. Your thumb hovered over the link before finally clicking it.

You knew what this thing was. This awful, terrible, shitty video from 2014 that still haunted you was enough to fuel your nightmares again just by hearing the narrator’s voice. You don’t bother finishing it, the flashbacks were enough.

You slammed your hands on the table and got up. Gavin was laughing now, like the complete idiot that he was. “Gavin, you stupid fucking- “

You were ready to throw hands when you heard him, the man with the beautiful yet goofy voice that you liked so much. “Are you alright, detective?” You turned and saw him standing behind you with two cups of coffee. He wore a casual jacket now and a pair of jeans and you swore that he still looked like a supermodel.

“Hey Connor, I’m good.” You said and side-eyed the Gavin, you would deal with him later. When you looked back Connor had walked towards you with a cup handed out. You stared at it for a second then looked up at the android.

“I brought you a cup of your preferred coffee. You seem to function better with it.”

Gavin laughed and you felt your cheeks heating up. What was that supposed to mean?

“Thanks…?” You reached for the cup and took it slowly, Connor’s LED turned yellow. “What’s on your mind?” the question was said as you walked back to your desk, you sat down and opened the lid covering the cup and took a sip; it was warm and tasted just the way you liked. You didn’t remember telling Connor how you liked your coffee.

You knew of the android’s cute habit. He still followed others around like an adorable puppy. He stood next to your desk and said, “You seemed hesitant to accept my token of appreciation.” It seemed like an interestingly worded question.

“Oh. No, no. I appreciate it! I just- “ just as you were going to make up an excuse for yourself, Fowler shouted your name from his office. You gave the man an apologetic look and went to see what your boss wanted from you.

“that tincan, really?”

You knew telling Gavin about your crush wouldn’t garner you the best reaction. The man, despite being a good friend, was a walking and breathing fiery mess. He disliked androids and didn’t even start tolerating them until he got his own android partner, an RK900. He still hated Connor with the burning anger of Gordan Ramsey himself.

“Look, I don’t want to hear you bitchin’, okay? I just need your help here, not your hot take on androids, especially him.” He raised his hands in defense.

“Woah, Woah, chill.” You sighed, “I won’t talk shit about your little crush, but,” You held your finger up in his face, “No buts. I’m awkward and desperately in love. Just… help.”

Gavin looked at you for a bit, you put on your best puppy eyes for him. It wasn’t like Gavin had a never-ending string of lovers, nope, not the case at all. You couldn’t talk about this to Hank, he was a friend of yours, but this would make things awkward between you, probably. Tina was still recovering in the hospital after her injury. Talking to RK900 also knows as Nines, would be useless since the poor guy’s social skills were worse than yours.

“Ugh, fine. Let’s go get lunch and I’ll tell you what ya gotta do.”

“Ok… so you’re telling me to pretend to be some bimbo?”

“Nah, I was just messing with ya.” He said, stuffing his mouth with another dozen of fries, “You shuff’ juff be yourselph- ” Your face twisted in disgust and you smacked his arm lightly, “finish eating first you despicable egg.” He shut his mouth.

“As I was saying, you gotta be yourself.” You rolled your eyes, “Ugh, please. Nobody likes that.” Gavin shook his head. “The hell are you talking about? You’re great, and if that plastic prick can’t see it then-“

“Gav, please. You’ve been there every time I got dumped… it’s always been my fault.” You looked down at your plate.

“Hey, both of us know that ain’t the truth. Your dump exes just wanted to blame you for how things ended because that shit’s easier. Remember Meg? That chick was a control freak and didn’t like it when you didn’t want any of her bullshit.” Megan. You remembered the last day you saw her, how she screamed and screamed at you for being ‘an ungrateful cruel person’. Yikes.

“Look, you are an odd goofball.” “gee- thanks,” “But you are a good goofball, the kind you wanna keep around forever. So, if you wanna get that prick then go for it, ask him out. If he’s not into you then you’ll be saving your time. And if things go really south…” the previous words warmed your heart.

“What?” you ask, curious. “Remember how we used to go to Disneyland every year since the academy?” you nodded; those trips were some of the memories that you still cherished. You two couldn’t go in the last year because your bank accounts weren’t looking great.

“Well I’ve saved some money, so I’ma take you there. How does that sound?”

You squealed, “Are you the real Gavin Reed? What did ya do with him?” you asked playfully, “Hey! I’m always nice.” “Right.”

You looked at your watch and got up, “C’mon, we gotta go.” You waited for him to walk past you and you smacked his head, it was more of a rough tap really. He winced, punching your arm.

“What was that for?!”

“Never send me Shrek memes. Ever.”

Tonight was supposed to be the night. You were going to ask the cute, adorable, handsome android out. Everyone went to the bar after work, wanting to celebrate closing an important red ice case, it would’ve been the perfect opportunity for you to ‘declare your love’, hell, you practiced your speech. It was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, here you were, stuck in a nearly empty office when everyone was out having fun. You just had to procrastinate some of your reports, didn’t you?

You sighed, whatever. This might be the universe’s way of telling you to abort your mission, to not ruin your precious friendship with Connor. You wanted to believe that, but god, you loved him.

You loved every part of him; his adorably weird social antics, his gorgeous smile whenever he would see you, his kind personality, the tiny freckles adorning his soft face, just, him.

“Detective.”

You yelped when you finally snapped out of your little bubble only to see the man of your dreams Infront of you. Was it whatever it was that rested in the skies up above that wanted you to constantly wish to have the ground beneath you split open and swallow you whole? Probably.

“C-Connor, hey.”

“I apologize for frightening you.” You waved your hand, “No, it’s fine really.” You let out that awkward laugh that you hated so much. Connor’s LED turned yellow, shit, did he notice you being weird?

“Um, I thought you went with Hank?”

“I came back. I would like to assist you if that’s okay.” You blinked, “You don’t have to do-“

“I want to. I don’t like seeing you stressed.” Your heart skipped a beat, something about the way he said it made you feel like a teenager who just discovered what love is. “Alright, be my guest.”

Damn, you forgot how good androids were at basically everything. Connor took half of the workload despite your protests. You were still halfway through your share when he finished his. You spent the rest of the time talking about whatever came to mind, turning the atmosphere of the room into a comfortable one.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Does my presence bother you?”

The comfort you felt was immediately thrown out of the window. You stopped typing and looked at the desk across you, where he sat. You saw something new, an expression that Connor usually didn’t show, hurt. His eyebrows were brought together, his lips pursed, and his eyes got a bit intense. Too intense.

You scratched your neck and looked back to your terminal. “What would give you that idea?”

You could see him tilt his head from the corner of your vision. “Well, you seem to fidget and become increasingly anxious whenever I come near you,”

“You also seem far more comfortable with Detective Reed, Nines and Hank. I am sorry if did something wrong, but I would appreciate it if you told me what it was.”

“Connor-” You stopped yourself, what were you supposed to say? Sorry, I just really like you and I don’t know how to deal with it? I’m scared I will mess everything up?

He stared at you and you looked anywhere but at him. Ugh, fuck it, you were gonna wing it, by being yourself. All the preparation you had gone down the gutter.

“I, uh, the reason I get nervous around you is that, well- I like your face, no wait not just that I’m not that superficial. Not that it isn’t great, your face is gorgeous. Ah shit. I- Ireallylikeallofyou.”

Connor blinked, the ring on his temple turned yellow, again. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The following silence was too much, you’d rather be watching weird Shrek parodies. You stared at Connor, waiting for an answer, for anything really. He didn’t say a word. Time to back up.

“Okay, sorry, shit, you can forget I said anything- “

“No, ____.” You paused; you weren’t used to him calling you by your first name. “I also, uh- “

You didn’t think melting was something your body was capable of, but that was how you felt. This cool, calculated android just stuttered. You almost giggled, but luckily held back.

“I also like you. I was trying to bond with you as several sites suggested, but it seemed to backfire.” You chuckled. “No, I am sorry I acted like a high schooler,”

“Your nervousness was justified. Please don’t was be hard on yourself.”

You smiled; it was a rather bittersweet one. His hand was on the desk, you moved yours and put it on his slowly. Connor froze for a moment but regained his composure after, he gently massaged your hand with his thumb. It wasn’t your first time touching an android but the artificial skin still had that unique feeling to it.

“So, do you want to go out next Thursday?”

“Yes, that would be preferable.”

It felt like a dream, the man you liked felt the same. You were so ready for rejection that you didn’t know what to do now. A yawn escaped you, it had gotten pretty late. You finished the last of your work and shut off the computer. An idea came to your mind.

“There is this sweet spot around the block, do you want me to show it to you?”

Connor immediately nodded, “Alright, wait I gotta send something.”

I DID IT DUDE

#this is so cliche i wanna die #also that vid? cursed dont open it #platonic gavin reed x reader #platonic gavin reed #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh #dbh imagine #i need to sleep #bye

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kinsbin · 4 years

Text

Brother and Sister [Xena/Obi-Wan Kenobi {Platonic}]

Title: Brother and Sister Pairing: Xena/Obi-Wan Kenobi {Platonic/Familial Selfship} Word Count: 2710 Rating: T [Drinking, Mentions of Vomit]

Summary: On an undercover mission to scout out a wanted criminal, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Xena find themselves in a cantina with a little too much alcohol in their system. Well, too much in Xena’s system at least. The confessions it causes Xena to spill to her friend comes as a shock to them both as she tells him feelings she hadn’t told anyone else before. Yet, it brings them closer all the same.

A/N:A piece I did for my platonic ship with Obi-Wan because HE’S MY BROTHER and thought we had a rocky relationship at the start, I grow to love and cherish him as my family ;w;

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

Xena threw her head back, swallowing her fifth shot of hard liquor in one fell swoop and slamming the glass down onto the table with a satisfied sigh. Obi-Wan felt his eyes narrow as he watched the girl before him sink comfortably down to lay her head on one of her arms against the table, humming as her eyes lazily scanned over the crowd with delightfully obvious curiosity. .

Obi-Wan kicked her under the table, making Xena yelp and slam her head a bit too hard into her glass.

“Obiiiiiii-” Her whine was childish as she pouted, her gaze genuinley misty with near tears as she threw herself forward to tug at his arm, “Why’d ya do thaaaaaaaaath-?”

“Shush,” Obi-Wan ordered carefully, “We’re undercover, remember? You shouldn’t use my name in a place like this.”

“Huh? Oh, right.” Xena nodded as she waved down a passing waiter, tapping the edge of her shot glass with two fingers to signal her need for a refill. She smiled as the Mandalorian woman in the cantina’s uniform gave her a nod and scooped up her glass without another word. She waved as the server disappeared behind the bar and giggled when she saw the look of near fatherly disapproval in his eyes as he watched her form. There was another tap to Xena’s leg, softer this time and with more of a worried reach through the force than pleasant.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough? I doubt you could even see straight enough to identify our target.”

“Puh-LEASE-” Xena giggled out as she accepted her shots from the same Mandalorian server as they passed by, throwing it back as quickly as she had the fifth one, “You said we’re undercover right? You’re not a patron in a cantina unless ONE OF YOU is drunk off their asses. ‘Sides, it’s been a while since I’ve had any good liquor! Can ya just let me have this?”

Obi-Wan sighed, knowing that no matter his orders she was too far gone for him to truly be able to stop her. Her mind was swimming in a groggy field of wet soup, endless and vast in its reach as he prodded gently at her with the force to assure her state of mind. Xena tilted her head from side to side as she stared at the table for a while longer with a spacey curiosity that seemed to overrun her mind.

The two wore such casual clothes in the night that one would never assume their position as Jedi and Force Sensitive sidekick, Xena mused with a giggle to herself. Indeed seeing Obi-Wan out of his Jedi robes, a pair of simple trousers on and a top that showed off his arms a little too much (Anakin’s defense being that it was the only thing they had available, though she was sure he just wanted to embarrass his master) was a sight that no one would believe should she try and describe it to them.She couldn’t wait to message his lover, though, and describe the sight to her. Lord knows it would make the woman flustered and that, Xena hid her mischievous smirk, was worth this entire mission. A bubble of giggles rose in her throat and she exhaled them with a smile beneath her arm.

“What’s so funny?” Obi-Wan took a sip of his own water as he asked the question.

“You look stupid,” Xena declared, “Your face and those clothes... all so stupid!”

“Are you always this brutally honest when you’re inhebriated?”

“Maybe? Can’t remember! Haven’t been proper drunk since I left Tatooine YEARSSSS ago.”

The mention of her old planet made Xena pause as she leaned forward, touching the rim of her sticky shot glass with moderate fascination as she let the sound of the music and laughter surrounding them overrun her senses for a few, sweet moment of blissful static in the back of her mind.

“He never liked drinking... We rarely went to cantinas unless it was for trying to find information on the Jedi... even then, it was always to eat more than to get a drink.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. Xena could tell from the tenseness in his shoulders that he knew clearly who she was talking about. Her smile turned something between bitter and sad as she sat up a bit, wobbling through her lack of central balance and leaning her face on the palm of one hand, staring at the Jedi with vague interest as her mouth curled and offered itself to continue with an almost biting done behind her slurred speech:

“You know, he was a really good guy, Obi.”

“He was a sith lord.”

“HE WAS THE MAN I LOVED!”

She yelled this last part, hands slamming down on the table as she flew upwards into a standing position. Xena’s eyes were fire, red and hot and angry so much so that her tattoos seemed to glow along with her frustration. At this point the cantina fell silent as patrons turned to face them both, eyes suddenly all too interested in the spat of friends that seemed to be occurring between them. Obi-Wan cleared his throat and stood up, slamming down his own glass alongside enough currency to cover the tab both of them had accumulated before making his way to Xena with a sigh.

“I think you’ve had quite enough for one night. We’re going back to the hotel.”

“No,” Xena bemoaned, “I want another shot.”

“No,” Obi’s firm voice left no room for fighting him, “You’re going back.”

---

Xena couldn’t walk straight as they left. Obi-Wan settled for wrapping one of her arms over his shoulder and carrying her sideways, like a drunken puppet, out of the cantina and towards the overlooking inn a close distance from the small hole in the wall they had found. All the while Xena didn’t look at him. Her gaze cast itself to the side as she wobbled, mumbling words to herself in languages she was clearly mixing up and slurring with the alcohol in her system.

Eventually she fell, laying down on the cool concrete and refusing to stand, causing Obi-Wan to groan and simply scoop her up in his arms to carry her the rest of the way.

Xena let him, though her constant wiggling and shifting in his grip was enough of a signal that she wasn’t thrilled.

No words were spoken until they arrived to their shared room, the two beds on either side sparse in their decoration but comfortable enough. Obi dropped her unceremoniously onto her own bed and ran a hand through his hair, sighing at the chances they had wasted all for one drunk assistant.

“Next time,” Obi-Wan groaned, “You get one drink and water the rest of the night.”

Xena giggled and rolled in her bed, sitting up and hugging a pillow, tilting her head at the Jedi with a deep sigh.

“You know,” She hummed, “I used to really. REALLY fucking hate you.”

Obi-Wan froze and turned to her, his brows furrowed. He would be lying if he said those words didn’t hurt him just a little bit. Xena looked away before she continued through the pillow pressing ot her mouth.

“When you first found me on Maul’s ship... I lied to you, you know? I saw you kill him... I saw his body fall and I was so. So angry at you that I went to that ship and waited for you because I wanted to kill you myself... But when you came and I felt your... Your force and aura and... I thought ‘whats stopping him from killin you if he finds out what Maul was to you’? So I lied and told you ‘n the council that.... that he kidnapped me. But you know- you know i know you do- that that wasn’t true. He was-”

“Your lover,” Obi finished for her as he saw the tears stain the corners of her eyes, “I know.”

She laughed as her sadness rolled off of her in waves. A hot and warm thing that boiled the air of the force around her as she clung to the pillow tightly and shut her eyes to try and stop any more wetness from accumulating in her ducts. Instead the tears fell anyways, hot and thick down her cheeks as she laughed a little more.

“I hated you for months after that. I hated seeing you... Hated being near you... But... But I... You offered to keep me with you and Annie... Let me stay by you and train even th-though I wasn’t even fully anything but a little force sensitive and... you were so fucking kind to me it made me want to throw up -k inda still does but i also had six shots of liquor...”

Xena winced, suddenly queezy, but she finally opened her eyes, still tear filled and wet but... she was smiling now, wincing at Obi as she tilted her head.

“Now I... don’t hate you, just so you know. I don’t I... You’re the closest thing to family I ever had, really.”

“Family?” The word left Obi-Wan’s lips before he could stop himself, confusion and awe clear in his face.

Xena nodded vigorously as she smiled wider.

“Yeah! Like an annoying older brother who never lets me have any fun.”

“You don’t get ot have ‘fun’ because I let you have fun tonight and the result was six shots and a scene in the cantina we’re supposed to be laying low in.”

“Yeah exactly just like that!”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and Xena giggled, falling backwards onto her bed and taking a long, deep sigh as she pulled her pillow closer to her and shut her eyes.

“I don’t hate you anymore, Kenobi... I just.... Wish that things had been different and I could still know you and have him... I know they can’t be but... As much as I love you....I miss him.”

Obi-Wan had nothing to say to her words. He merely approached her bed and sat at the side of it, running a hand through his friend’s hair as he watched her slowly, surely, pass out into a deep and immovable sleep.

Obi-Wan didn’t move after that. He simply sat there and watched her rest, the slow and steady breathing of her dream-state the only sign of contentedness he had ever seen on the woman’s face in his life. Even then, there was something troubled about it. something in her brow and within her force that laced itself with a pained sort of pity that only substance abuse could possibly bring up within her as she clenched and unclenched her jaw rhythmically through her dream.

She hated him, but now she didn’t. The words repeated themselves in his head as he thought of his own feelings towards the other. Similarly familial, he thought of having a sister. Of growing up at her side, protective and careful should any man or woman or creature alike try to hurt her. It was a strange sense of protectiveness that overwhelmed him. A gentle worry for the girl before him as he exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Perhaps if they were truly brother and sister, he could have led her away from the path Maul had set for her.

With her stubbornness, his mind warned snarkily back, he honestly doubted he would have made any successful progress.

Standing, Obi-Wan left Xena to her rest and exited out of the hotel room they shared. She wasn’t going to be feeling well in the morning, that was for certain, and he had to make sure that she at least could function during a call from the other Jedi Maters of their progress.

---

Xena awoke the next morning with a pain in both her head and her stomach.

She groaned and rolled slightly in her bed, wincing as the light from the window above her assaulted all of the senses that were just too sore for her to function. Reaching aimlessly for a pillow, she flung it over her head and groaned in exhaustion as the hangover began to pump itself excessively in the back of her mind. What the hell happened the other night?

She spent the next few minutes simply thinking, as hard as the task was, about the night and the events of the bar. With Obi-Wan Kenobi and-

Her eyes widened and her face paled. Oh. So that’s what she had said to him, huh?

As if on cue the door to their room opened and Xena felt guilt sink itself fiercely in the pit of her stomach as she tried to bite back tears of shame. Her aura could not be hid as Obi-Wan stared down at the amalgamation of her in the bed, his eyebrow raising as she tried to curl herself into an even smaller ball against his Jedi presence.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan greeted with a small smirk to his lips, “Still in the mood for another shot?”

“I’ll shoot you,” Xena groaned from her pillow despite herself, “Next time cut me off at two shots, please, I’m begging you.”

“I tried that,” Obi-Wan chuffed, “You gave me a less than pleasant gesture with your finger before taking your third.”

“Yeah, that sounds like two-drink Xena.”

There was a long swatch of silence as Obi-Wan walked over and placed a glass of water at the side of her head atop the table, the cool beverage making itself known with the metallic ‘clink’ of the cup as it hit the wood. Alongside it, a couple of small white pills were placed just in arms reach. Xena lifted up one edge of her pillow to squint at the newly arrived items in surprise.

“Some pain killers and water,” The Jedi above her stated, “I figured you’d need them after all of that.”

“Oh... thanks.” Xena murmured as she sat up just enough to take the beverage, popping the pills and chugging the water gratefully as her dry throat heaved in refusal of anymore liquid. God, she was probably going to vomit later, she winced at the thought.

Obi-Wan smiled before going about his business in their room, and silence engulfed them once again.

Xena swallowed hard as she finally spoke:

“Master Kenobi about... What I was saying the other night... I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Obi-Wan paused and turned to look at her with another raised eyebrow.

Xena didn’t look him in the eyes, hugging her cup close to her as she bit her lip and nodded.

“I talked about... I know he killed your master. I know what he did is wrong... I shouldn’t have shared what I did with you, and I especially shouldn’t have gone out of my place to talk about my personal feelings for you and-”

“That’s quite enough of that.”

Xena startled as Obi-Wan plucked the empty cup from her hands and set it on the nightstand with a sigh.

“I won’t pretend what you told me didn’t hurt. It did-” Xena winced at the words - “But... You also told me how you see me as a brother. As someone, now, you care for. Was that part true?”

Xena blushed and huffed, nodding her head ‘yes’ as she curled in more on herself. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile.

“And that feeling is mutual. I can’t stop the decisions you’ve made in the past, Xena, but I feel your future brimming with a brighter hope than ever before. Should I have the honor of being in your life to help guide you, well, I won’t say ‘no’.”

Xena stared, slack jawed in shock at the man before her as he ruffled her hair (causing another long pained groan to escape her lips) and returned about his business. She watched his back with curiosity, tilting her head and wincing as more light poured over his form and hurt her eyes and head all at the same time. Then, looking down at her hands and seeing the simple shape of them against the sheets... Xena smiled slightly.

Jedi couldn’t make decisions with their feelings... but it certainly didn’t stop them from having them, now did it?

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?”

“... Thank-You.”

And he smiled despite himself.

“Of coures.”

#self ship #self shipping #platonic self ship #platonic f/o #my stupid jEDI BROTHER WHO I ADORE #this was very comforting to write honestly #sometimes i just need my big bro to get me asprin after a hangover

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scrumptiousalpacadeer · 4 years

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My Easter - Removing The Mask

Easter 2020 will forever remain in my memory as the one that hit me like a truck; an invitation I answered body and soul; the Easter where I fully allowed myself to ‘go there’, to pass through the impossible threshold of the crucifixtion and come out the other side. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happened at the heart of the Covid-19 lockdown; Easter-time this year felt like a glaring luminous invitation to journey inwards. Besides, what else was there to do?! I couldn’t meet with friends, go to cafes or pubs. I was forbidden even to drive to the woods and romp in the leaves. All of sudden the world had stopped, there was no running away this time. I was called, finally, to confront myself with eyes wide open. It’s Holy Week, and I’m being given some very clear marching orders: “its safe to come out now. Its time to remove the mask.”

I can’t recall which particular day it was; perhaps Palm Sunday or Holy Monday, but I received a very clear instruction to write a full, unfiltered confession to myself of the real conditions of my life so far. Somehow it felt entirely correct that I would undertake this task whilst journeying with Christ through his betrayal and crucifixion, for I knew that in order to do this I would be visiting the blackest times of my life; times of pounding lovelessness and cruelty, impossible violence and running blood. I knew that I would need to visit the desolate landscape of my youth, to pull off the grim mask of civilization I’d worn all these years and fully encounter the betrayals by those who were supposed to love me. Hardest of all, I knew at the core of my confession was a fully sighted look at the violent, disconnected person those early losses had turned me into; I would have to gaze up at the sky-scraping height of the walls of defense I’d built around myself; wall that had at times fully eclipsed the sun. I would need to meet all the gentle souls I’d hurt betrayed since that time, believing so wholeheartedly that I was full of stinking rot and no consequence on this earth.

Somehow I knew I wasn’t alone. The deal seemed to be that if I fully surrendered to this, as much as my consciousness would allow, that I would be fully met and held every step of the way. ‘Don’t worry’ a voice said, a deep silent voice inside, ‘it’s safe. I’m here. I won’t leave you..even when it might feel like I have, when things get sticky, I haven’t. I’m always here.’

I was being invited to set myself free and even though there was some trepidation, as with all big journeys into the unknown, there was also a deep excitement, for I knew that if I could come thorugh this portal, there would be a whole new world waiting; a new beginning.

So I jumped out of the plane without a parachute. Upon guidance from The Christian Comunity Church I set up a small shrine on a chest of drawers in my bedroom. It consists of an alabaster statue of Mother Mary cradling a baby Jesus, three candle holders and a clay heart, un-painted and hastily sculptured by my daughter. This was a pilgrimage man must undertake alone; but the world was allowing me a luxurious amount of personal space – the only visitors would be delivery men (!) and my daughter was staying with her father just down the road. I didn’t know at the beginning that my confessions would take nine days, or that some days the words would come in such a torrent. My writing life has always been a response to a physical impulse, a ‘pull’ for something to come out, but never before had I been tugged like this, a fish on a hook. Some days I typed four or five hours straight.

Each morning I breakfasted and went to my little church, dead on ten o’clock. I followed the service advised by the church. I turned off my phone, lit seven candles, read the Gospel aloud, attempted to clear my mind, and said the Lords Prayer – the first time, in forty five years living on this earth, that the words resonated within me with meaning. Every time I said ‘Thy will be done’ I was reminded that this was a task of surrendering to something far bigger than me, not something to ‘push ahead with’ in my head. Those days of intellectual figuring out were no help here. Often on those Easter mornings I asked for strength to keep going. I asked for my faith to be renewed when I felt lost. At the moment of Consecration, in my imagination I feasted hungrily on the bread and drank thirstily from the cup, in fact, it’s more truthful to say I gulped on the life force of Christ. I needed His strength for the day ahead; I needed to be lit up with his light.

Nights I slept in my daughter’s bedroom, waking up each morning of Holy Week to her glorious pictures of elves and sprites; her display of animals photos torn from magazines; a penguin she’d adorned with a speech bubble with the words ‘I’m cold’ scribbled in biro and a baby seal, that she’d adorned with a bow on its head. I woke up to her letter from Santa Claus tacked to the wall and her kitten calendar. It gave me great comfort to sleep in an eight year old’s world, for I knew that my journey required me to be as vulnerable and awe-struck as a child; to recall what it was like to reveal my heart without any thought or consequence.

My appetite lessened; I ate a lot of toast and drank gallons of tea. I typed sitting on the floor with my computer on an upturned crate. Often I wouldn’t dress until late afternoon. After writing I would reward myself with a walk out into the lanes and woodland tracks of Ashurst Wood.

It seemed hugely significant that although I would be plummeting to my death, in the background there was an abundance of fuzzy life; Laura, our tortoise-shell cat had given birth to six kittens on April 4th. They were still limp and blind, but fattening with each second in a cardboard den. As I typed in my daughter’s room, a dark beginning of life resounded silently from the kitten corner.

I gave my confession the title Turning Point. One of the central themes of my Easter 2020 undertaking, if not its core, was letting my sister, Sally Ann, die. But to do this, to grant her her final wish, I knew I needed to tell her story as honestly as I could; to bear witness to her suffering and reveal it to the world; to not conjoin with the world we’d both been born into and ‘cover her up’. Only then would she rest in heaven; only then could I live on earth in freedom. Sally, my dark mysterious sister, ahead of me in the world by three years, committed suicide at our family home in January 1990. She was nineteen years old and I was sixteen at the time.

Somehow I knew that journeying back to the hell of that that time, almost thirty years ago, back to her trimester of suffering when each day felt like a crucifixtion, would lead me into heaven. At some point during these days I experienced a powerful shift in my thinking; a revelation. I realised that for thirty years I’d been living with a fundamental ‘untruth’ - a lie that had at times proved almost fatal. This lie was two-fold and lay at the core of my heart, and in lifting the lid on it, I experienced such a physical release that I was able to kneel down and weep at my little church. I could begin to let go.

The first lie was that I’d thought that I’d had to stop loving my sister because she was no longer here; because of the shame that society places on suicide; because there was no adequate help in the suburbs of Bedfordshire in the early 90s for such an act of self-murder in a three bed semi, because our relationship had been so difficult; because nothing I did seemed to make her happy; because it had all been so hopeless; because my father had told me to buck up two weeks after her death - ‘life goes on Christine’ - all of that meant that I’d detached myself from all the love I felt for my sister, I’d erased it all; I’d cut myself off from my history in shame, forgotten all the nights we’d shared sleeping in the same room; all the good times and laughter we shared, despite her cruelty, despite the confusion. This Easter I was given the gift of remembering myself as a loving child; I recalled; I felt viscerally, in my body, that despite everything, I had loved her. Now wasn’t that something? Wasn’t that a miracle? And then the impossible happened; she took herself out of the game and left me here on earth in devastation. This Easter I needed to reclaimed my heart somehow. ‘It’s ok’ the voice said, ‘speak out. You have nothing to be ashamed of’.

The second lie that I began to put to bed was that somehow my heart was ‘malformed’ or ‘useless’ in some way, because the love I sent forth hadn’t been able to save Sally. For the two months leading up to her suicide, every day when I returned from school, she only got worse, not better. Somehow, and somehow I could offer this up this Easter, I had thought myself a ‘murderer’.

And underneath the civilized mask I wore, the truth was that I’d treated myself often as one would treat a murderous child; I’d kept her locked away, persecuted myself, let people and things I adored fall by the wayside, abandoning myself and my fellow man over and over.

Somehow the grim violence of Christ’s death, the humiliation, the heart-breaking conversation he has with God before-hand ‘isn’t there another way we can do this?!’ rang out to me this year. I finally accepted the devastation of his death. I had to allowed the tsunami of grief and I sat at his feet through-out; I sat at the feet of my dying self in full compassion for her helplessness Only in opening myself to my full vulnerability would I get to the green pasture on the other side. Only by allowing the truth of the world of violence I’d been born into would I undergo the glorious transformations of those violences. Christ’s death reversed a big lie I’d been imprisoned by; that our shadow life is best kept quiet – ‘oh no, don’t you understand?’ he says, ‘the blackness is the very place from which light is born; the point where everything can change; the place where you’ll learn to love. But – and I know this is a bummer - you have to die first.’ If I truly wanted to continue living in my body then it needed to be with wounds revealed. It was so wholly, genetically, biologically different in every way to the life of appearance I’d been forging ahead with.

On the evening of Easter Saturday I drank a small measure of gin for courage and sent Turning Point out into the atmosphere, emailing to my dear friend and writing partner Matilda Leyser. I hung in the balance, waiting for the world to change – daring to believe the unbelievable. Then things got weird; at almost exactly the same time of clicking send and removing my armour, I got attacked. I received a long email, aggressive in tone, from my neighbour informing me that my tom-cat, George, had got in to her house and urinated on her bed. “Please be a responsible pet owner”, she said. “and keep your cats locked in your house from now on.” Isn’t the world like that? I thought. We take the ultimate leap to freedom, and someone, someone you least expect, will swipe you with a long diatribe about cat wee.

But I knew that this was a good sign; a sign that just in me trying to be real, the world had shifted. Wasn’t it time for me to confront the possibility that a good life was waiting for me? Wasn’t it time to forgive my neighbour her trespasses and move on - to a place where I could play the piano without being told to shush? Wasn’t it time to stop communing with misery and take responsibility for my happiness? Doesn’t the resurrection tell us that there’s a chance; that we’re meant to live in abundance?

Easter Monday I thought I’d be overwhelmed with joy but that came later – in fact, in took a couple of weeks of disorientation and yet more grief before I could begin to grasp the sheer revolutionary, upturning power of Jesus’s resurrected body. I read St Luke 24: 39 over and over; “Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself; hand me, and see;” He was back, wounds and all. He was eating with his friends and rejoicing. Their hearts were singing. The old dark world was gone and things could only get better.

A week after Easter my daughter returned home and reclaimed her room. Like every human being on the earth at this time, we have no idea what is going to happen next.

* * * **

A couple of days ago I watched the Billy Wilder classic The Apartment. It’s a simple tale of love and redemption in 50s New York, but there’s a darkness at the centre of the film that surprised me. Fran Kubelik, a central character and love interest played (Shirley MacClaine) is ‘brought back to life’ after attempting suicide on Christmas Eve by the man who loves her, Bud Baxter (Jack Lemmon) and a doctor. and his neighbour. It’s a disturbing scene because she doesn’t want to revive; she’s injected, slapped, given smelling salts, extra strong coffee and finally walked up and down the apartment by the two men like a rag doll to keep her awake. Bud cares for her over the next forty eight hours, hiding his shaving razors for fear she’ll try again; just as my parents hid dangerous implements in high cupboards as my sister’s death wish intensified.

She recovers, and in the glorious ending of the film, Fran has a sudden epiphany. Sitting in the restaurant with her cruel lover, she sits bolt upright, the camera focuses on her widening eyes: she realises that she’s in love with Mr Baxter, the kind man who saved her life. Perhaps she realises that she’s loved him all along. Choosing love, she leaves her old life behind, and sprints through the streets of New York to Bud’s apartment. Her high heels clack up the stairs to his apartment like rapid gun fire. He’s packing up his apartment; he wants something better than loaning out his home as a glorified knocking shop to his bosses and their mistresses. “What are you doing?” Fran asks him.

“I don’t know, …….I just gotta get out of this place’.

They sit with glasses of champagne and prepare to play Gin Rummy:

‘I love you Ms Kubelik. Did you hear what I said? I absolutely adore you.’

“Shut up and deal.’

And so, upon reflection I would say that my Easter has been a bit like those final scenes of The Apartment. I’ve heard love calling, I’ve got up from the table and am running towards it. I’m moving quickly, with the chance at being human, allowing the wounds and scars of the old world to propel me into the new; coming alive from the inside.

I’m ready to drink champagne with friends and play with a whole new hand.

In gratitude to Luke and the priests at the CCC for the milk and honey they provided this Easter: their correspondence, insights and guidance through this Easter-time.

#Christian renewal #personal resurrection #raised consciousness #spiritualawakening #surviving grief #easter2020

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omfgtrump · 5 years

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It’s The Base, Stupid

I would be remiss if I forget to give a shout out to the valiant and heroic actions of our military during the War of 1812 for defending our airports. America thanks you from the bottom of its heart.

The Don, during his made for TV July 4th special called “Look at Me I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy,” praised our soldiers that “manned the air, rammed the ramparts, took over airports, it did everything it had to do.” His staff had begged him to keep the remark out of the speech, but ultimately they caved when he conceded that he wouldn’t say: “You know, I knew George Washington, and he was one tough cookie like me.”

Now that we have soared to unimagined heights with our planes, it’s time to talk about less lofty things, which brings me to the word “base”. I suppose it could be an airport base, but that plane has come and gone.

For starters here’s The Don waxing poetically about his base:

“I have a base that’s a phenomenal — it’s just a phenomenal base,” Trump said in a recent interview with Time magazine. “It’s a very loyal base, and I’m loyal to them also.” When asked if he should reach beyond his supporters, he answered simply, “I think my base is so strong, I’m not sure that I have to do that.” Which word(s) do you relate to most when it comes to describing his base:

1.Phenomenal

2. Loyal

3. So strong

Tough choice, but I personally go for “so strong.” I just love a strong bass in my music. And if you are wondering if I am mixing up base with bass, shame on you for caring about the meaning of words. I just love a strong bottom.

And so does The Don. To misquote Michelle Obama: “When they go low, The Don goes lower.” So the question is how low can you go Don? How base can you get? Where is the nadir?

The Don’s campaign and administration has been a “Who’s Who” in the world of the rich, the basest, and the abusers. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, as the person at the top, creates the culture, and in The Don’s world, misogyny rules.

Besides the infamous Access Hollywood Tape, where he reveled that his fame imbued him with the power to ‘”grab their pussies,” there is the reality of at least 23 women accusing him of sexual impropriety. And just three weeks ago, E. Jean Carroll, a well-known writer, accused Trump of what amounted to a violent rape in the mid-1990s. (Two friends of hers confirmed that she’d told them about it at the time.) In response, Trump essentially said “she’s not my type” — and claimed that he’d never met her. That was a provable lie; there’s a photograph of them together.

And let’s not forget ex-wife, Ivana Trump, who claimed The Don once raped her.

Now we have the Jeffrey Epstein, Robert Acosta debacle. But before we get to that sordid abomination, let’s do a little ‘Who’s Who’ of the awful that have been involved with The Don since he ran for president.

Let’s begin with the physically abusive:

Rob Porter, who The Don and then Chief of Staff John Kelly defended, despite photos from Porter’s ex-wife, sporting bruises all over her. Here’s Kelly after the allegations were made known to him: “Rob Porter is a man of true integrity and honor, and I can’t say enough good things about him,”

Steve Bannon was charged in 1996 with domestic violence and battery and dissuading a witness over an alleged incident regarding his ex-wife.

How about Andy Pudzer, one time choice for Secretary of Labor who ultimately withdrew his nomination. Pudzer’s, wife, Lisa Firstein, appeared on an episode of Oprah called “High-Class Battered Women,” which aired in March of 1990. Firstein appeared incognito and showed up in a wig and glasses and was identified only by the made-up name of Ann.

Acting Defense Secretary Patrick Shanahan resigned over domestic violence allegations, And then there is touching father-son story about how Shanahan defended and protected his son who brutally beat his mother with a baseball bat; he left her lying in a pool of blood and ripped out the phone cord for good measure so she couldn’t call for help.

Shanahan’s response was to this horrific act was: She had “harassed [William] for nearly three hours before the incident.” I don’t know about you, but if your parent is bugging you can always just leave. How crazy would that be? But Shanahan thought the baseball bat was fair game!

A Trump administration speechwriter, David Sorensen, resigned after his ex-wife reported that he’d put out a cigarette on her and ran over her foot with a car. Rumor has it that Sorenson said “she’s lucky I didn’t run over her foot with my truck.”

Now let’s move on to the misogynists/sexual abusers/predators in the Who’s Who?

Let’s go back to Andy Pudzer the CEO of Hardees and Carl Jr.’s, a fast food chain. Pudzer drew attention because of the ads he ran to promote his burgers.

“We believe in putting hot models in our commercials, because ugly ones don’t sell burgers,” said in a 2011 press release, according to Fortune. “We target hungry guys, and we get young kids that want to be young hungry guys.” As late as 2015, Puzder said: “I like our ads. I like beautiful women eating burgers in bikinis. I think it’s very American.”

Remember Roy Moore, the man who lost the Alabama Senate race to Democrat Doug Jones? The man accused of pedophilia? The Don supported his candidacy whole-heartedly.

Even the morally bankrupt Republican lawmakers drew the line at pedophilia, but the Don said this: “I have NOTHING against Roy Moore, and unlike many other Republican leaders, wanted him to win.” In other words, the fact that he preyed on teenage girls was a nothing burger. Why should we be surprised, as The Don in the 2013 Miss Teen Universe said this: “You know they’re standing there with no clothes. Is everybody OK? And you see these incredible looking women. And so I sort of get away with things like that.”

And remember the Brett Kavanaugh hearing. The Don mocked Christine Blasey-Ford’s testimony regarding Kavanaugh raping her in high school: “I don’t know. I don’t know,” the President continued. “What neighborhood was it in? I don’t know. Where’s the house? I don’t know. Upstairs, downstairs — where was it? I don’t know — but I had one beer. That’s the only thing I remember.”

So why should we be surprised that to this date, The Don has not said one word denouncing Jeffrey Epstein’s monstrous activities of sex trafficking and rape of underage girls?

The Don once said this about his one-time hang-out buddy:

“It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side… “

There is a lot to say about the Epstein case and much more will be revealed as the days go by, but I will be brief. Epstein, received a sweetheart deal back in 2008 from none other than Alex Acosta,* The Don’s Secretary of Labor, who was then a U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of Florida. How was it possible for that deal to happen? All I can say is that when all is exposed there will be a whole lot of collateral damage as there was a whole lot of cover-up and shenanigans going on.

For example, remarkably, after Epstein served his time, he had to register as a sex offender. Inexplicably, the Manhattan district attorney’s office, under Democrat Cyrus Vance Jr., asked a judge to downgrade Epstein’s sex offender status from Level 3, the most serious, to Level 1, the least. The judge, stunned, refused. “I am a little overwhelmed because I have never seen a prosecutor’s office do anything like this,” she said.

Epstein’s response to this seemingly magical shift in his status said: it’s the “difference between a murderer and stealing a bagel: predator-offender.” When I read this I almost puked and don’t know if I will ever be able to look at a bagel the same way.

To add insult to injury, at the very time the Epstein case has been bubbling over (he has been indicted by the Southern District of New York for his actions), The Don’s company was about to hold a golf tournament where strippers would be caddies before it was called off. Exotic dancers would wear pink mini-skirts and sexy white polo shirts. However, if you bought the V.I.P package you could go back to the strip club and maybe if you were lucky, get some nudity and who knows what else.

Don’t you just love the base?

*Acosta recently resigned as Secretary of Labor but The don had nothing but great things to say about.

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citrusratz · 7 years

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We Can Make It

A Wreck it Ralph Fanfiction from five years ago

Chapter Three

Make-It was vaguely aware of her body wiggling against its will. For a silent moment that seemed longer than it was, she lay perfectly still in peace, but the rocking stirred her mind up again.

“Are you sure she only drank one?”

“That’s all I bought her. What do you expect, though? She’s not exactly beefy.”

“I have never gotten THAT drunk after just one glass, even when I was her size.”

“Maybe Tapper’s divine nectar is a little more… uh… well, a little stronger than we thought. For newbies, anyway.”

“Should we try waving bacon under her nose?”

“That only works with you.”

“It worked on you once, too.”

“It was right out of the freakin’ pan, you lummox. Boiling oil would wake anyone up.”

“…Are you suggesting we boil her?”

“NO, God, you’re an idiot.”

Her heart kicked at the start of voices raising and she drew in a sharp breath.

“AGH. Oh. Agh. Uh, good morning,” either Nose or Grabby greeted her. She could not find the energy or desire to check exactly who. Her body was awkwardly and uncomfortably supported by an all-too-firm mattress, the springs trying desperately to escape the fabric.

A groan bubbled in her chest as her shoulders rose defensively. Morning would not go away, but maybe she could hide from it.

“Good morning?” He repeated, prodding her shoulder and startling her out of her drowse again.

“Nngh, what the cuss do you want,” she demanded as she buried her chin against her chest. The entire bed smelled terrible and the blankets were a disgusting papery material that crinkled with her every movement, but she had no desire to move. Tiny golden hammers were thumping at the inside of her temples, but they were certainly not fixing anything.

“We want you to hold up your end of the bargain, sleeping beauty.”

“Or hung over beauty,” the other remarked.

Her teeth knit themselves together. “Please don’t kiss me,” she grumbled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. But you’d better get up. We need to show you around before Turbo wakes up. Need to get those vile gears in your head turning on just how to cut him down to size.”

“Not cutting anyone.”

“Figure of speech, kid. Now get up.”

“No.”

“Alright.” A pair of surprisingly strong and firm arms scooped her up from the bed and dragged her out of the horrid covers, unceremoniously holding her up in the chilled and foul-smelling air. As soon as she was upright, she was dropped, and she just barely managed to catch her footing in time.

She opened her eyes. The first thing that she saw was the impatiently scowling face of Grabby.

“Mm,” she nodded. “Figured. I’d recognize that grip anywhere.”

His eyes rolled dramatically. “Shut up, will you. Now just… do whatever it is you do to wake up.”

Glancing back at the bed, she spotted Nose sitting on the edge. He pressed his lips together and raised a couple fingers in greeting. Make-It returned the gesture, and then finally noticed just where she was.

The space around her was not a bedroom at all. A decently sized blue racing car slept opposite the bed. Everything was grey and cold, and on the not-so-far end of the room stood a rigid garage door. The air stank of the oil smeared on the floor, cleaning chemicals, and long-forgotten food wrappers and boxes near the tiny, steel bedside table.

“What in the name of junk is this?” She droned.

Nose grunted, staring at his feet. “My room…”

“You sleep in here?”

“YOU slept in here just fine.”

“I was drunk.”

The twins let out one of their signature synchronized sighs. “All of our rooms are like this. All except Turbo’s, anyway. It’s what we get for being the ‘bad guys’. I don’t see anything particularly wrong with our rooms; they’re decent enough. We get to spend the nights curled up next to our cars, anyway. My only issue with it is that Turbo gets something supposedly better and luxurious. Like he even deserves it.”

Make-It clumsily shoved her hands in her pockets and wandered slowly around the room. “It’s remarkable that you two haven’t turned green yet.”

Nose shrugged. “I can’t even smell it anymore.”

“No, I mean from envy. You guys are obviously jealous of Turbo.”

Both of them looked severely offended for a moment, but she continued. “Don’t play dumb. Don’t deny it. What else could it possibly be? Turbo gets this, Turbo doesn’t deserve that. What makes you feel that you deserve it any more than he does?” Her brows furrowed. “Sure, this guy sounds like a little slime, but you two aren’t exactly hardworking gentlemen either, now, are you?”

“Woah, okay. Back up, now. You haven’t even SEEN a day in our lives yet and you’re trying to tell us that we don’t work hard?” Grabby strode over to her, Nose close behind, their glares identical.

“Maybe you do,” she slowly sidestepped them, “I don’t know. You might work hard. But what do you really do to deserve everything that Turbo doesn’t? You drive cars, don’t you? Isn’t that about it? You two are just as cutthroat and shady as anybody. You’re positively petty.”

They advanced on her, growling like revving engines. “You’d better hold onto your tongue before we carve it out.”

“See?” She pointed at them, deliberately avoiding being backed into a corner. “You’re fine so long as I cooperate. I seriously doubt that you would actually take a knife to my mouth, just to add.”

“What are you trying to accomplish with this? It sounds an awful lot like you’re asking for it.”

“Maybe I’m trying to antagonize you,” she remarked, hopping back onto the bars at the foot of the bed, perching. “Or maybe I’m just trying to get you to think. I’m not saying that I want to back out, but take a look at our deal. And also take a look at how this deal came about. You got an uninvolved stranger drunk and struck a deal with her to metaphorically assassinate your ‘good guy’ with pranks in return for fifty thousand points. Let’s not forget how you were ready to punch my teeth in before you noticed my potential.” She drummed her fingers against the side of her bucket. “I don’t think you were joking when you asked if I would kill Turbo for you, either. So, from the looks of it, you are a couple of insecure sneaks who are jealous of your higher-up and also believe that anyone who does not keep things convenient for you should be eliminated. Isn’t that right?”

They were paralyzed with either rage or contemplation, but by the looks of their rabid faces, Make-It assumed the former. Her fingers squeezed around the handle of her brush.

“Look, I’m not just saying this to be a cuss. Well, maybe a little bit. But I want to know something. It seems like all this hate, jealousy, bitterness… is just how you’re coded. Seems an awful lot like a typical ‘bad guy’. So is being a cutthroat, envious jerk in your code, or is it just you?”

Make-It just barely managed to avoid being bowled over as both men lunged for her. She rolled to the side, springing away when they rounded on her, leaping onto the spoiler of the car.

“GET OFF MY CAR!” Nose swiped at her legs as she bound into the driver’s seat and over the hood.

“Stop attacking me!” She retorted as they chased in acrobatic circles around the room.

Avoiding two men in such a confined space posed as a challenge that was quickly failed. Before either of them could calm down, Nose had her wrists pinned against the side of his car, panting angrily as a wicked grin stretched his face.

“Let’s see you paint a knife now,” he growled.

“Alright,” she squeaked, wincing at the pressure in her wrists, “you’ve got me. But I wasn’t done.”

Grabby’s fingers tangled painfully in her hair as he turned her face towards him. “We don’t want to hear ANYTHING that you have to say.”

“Can’t you just – ngh – answer my question? Does your code make you jealous of Turbo?”

“You took an awfully long time to ask such a stupid question,” Nose hissed. “How could you blame us for our code?”

She smiled ruefully through the stinging pain. “Then how could you blame Turbo for his?”

A thick silence choked out every sound in the room. Their grips did not lessen, but the rage in their eyes cooled to a smolder.

“Let me go, please,” she whispered submissively. After a time that dragged so long that Make-It thought that they would not listen, they stepped back and clenched their fists at their sides. She straightened up and rotated her aching wrists.

“Look,” she began, “I’m sorry for upsetting you. I have a talent for always being an imp. And I don’t want to back out on the deal. I’ll still give Turbo the pranking of his life, I just… wanted to show you how I see it.”

Grabby frowned deeply. “Other characters’ code is not your business. You’d best learn where to keep your nose out of.”

“That was always my worst subject in school,” she smiled. “I’m an Easter Egg. It’s my business to get in other’s business.”

He sneered. “Keep your code inside your game, Make-It.” He strode over to a panel on the wall, flipping it open and pressing a red button inside. With grating squeaks, squeals, and groans, the garage door lifted itself out of their way.

“My code is in my game. What I’m doing out here? That’s just me.” She strolled backwards out of the open door, winking with her distinctive giggle before turning to face the rest of the game.

She was severely underwhelmed. “It’s a black wall.”

“The NPC racers live behind the bleachers. Head to the left for a little while and you’ll be out.”

“Hm,” she put her hands on her waist. “Wanna give me a ride?”

“Are you kidding? If Turbo wakes up to the sound of an engine, he’ll come speeding down here before he even has time to put his jumpsuit on.”

“He’s eager, then,” she observed, leaping off to the left, her boings echoing.

“Eager is an understatement. And stick to the ground, will you? Your sound effects will wake everybody up,” the twins followed her quietly and as casually as they could manage. “There’s nothing Turbo loves more than attention. Well, maybe himself, but not by much. He barely sleeps because he doesn’t want to waste any valuable time that could be spent soaking in liquid ego. He parties almost every single night, unless he passes out or… gets knocked out. Trying to sleep while listening to one of his parties would make anyone violent.”

“Not his fans, I’d imagine.”

“Of course not. If any of us want him out cold, we have to do it ourselves.”

“Hm,” she hummed, spinning as she walked. “But you have to hire mercenaries to prank him.”

Two glares burned into her skin, eliciting another impish grin out of her.

It was not long before they reached a break in the bleachers. The gap looked just wide enough to allow one car to drive through at a time. An image of all the NPC racers driving out single-file to the music of the crowd wailing and booing manifested in Make-It’s head. Slimes as Nose and Grabby were, she had to admit that being a bad guy in this game seemed like a particularly rough life.

The gap opened up to a world even larger than she had known in her game, but with the same great void serving as a sky. A huge, swerving, yellow race track snaked around itself ahead of her, seemingly naked without a single car on its surface. Curiously enough, though, the window to the arcade was not situated above this track, but the even wider, completely empty space next to it. The ground in that area seemed to just be one endlessly vast yellow field, exactly the same shade as the track. Bleachers were still surrounding this barren, yet seemingly significant landscape.

It would have been exceptionally hard to miss Turbo’s living quarters. It stood about half as tall as Niceland on the far end of the track, its arrangement of white and red bricks forming a blatantly obvious ‘T’ on its exterior. Spotlights glared at its base and set the entire building aglow.

“It…” she started, glancing between the screen and the track before her, “…it looks like I’m missing something.”

Grabby nudged her to the side and stepped in front of her, his hands on his hips. “This track here is where we practice and where we have our warm-up races. All the actual gameplay is in the maze.”

“That’s… quite a maze.”

“It only activates when it’s in use, y’idiot. New pixels materialize for every level, creating a random series of walls and obstacles and flags. Turbo’s job as the ‘good guy’ is to get from one end of the maze to the other before we do, and collect more flags than we do. Our job is to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Make-It nodded slowly, taking it all in and pursing her lips. “So, you’re programmed to destroy Turbo’s success.”

“That’s sort of the point of being a ‘bad guy’,” he growled, “and don’t you start up again with your weird little code fetish. I said it’s none of your business and I meant it.”

She folded her arms and grinned. ��Noted.”

A deep sneer began to carve its way into his face as he stared at her. “God, I’m starting to hate you.”

She merely let out a peal of laughter in response and bounded away to observe the flattened maze. The twins called after her, demanding that she stay on the ground, but she pretended not to hear them and landed in what she projected to be the middle of the enormous square. The light of the arcade shone down on her from directly above. She supposed that trying to interfere with a gameplay race would be difficult, considering that the gamers would be able to see her. Unless, of course…

Within a few taps, her paint bucket matched the shade of the earth beneath her exactly, and not a moment later, she had painted every part of her character yellow.

“There! Not a pixel off shade. They’ll be none the wiser,” she cackled quietly as she turned to wave enthusiastically at the twins off the border of the maze. Both of them looked thoroughly unentertained.

Cartwheeling over to them, handspringing and sticking the landing, she pulled them in close for a huddle. “I’m on your side for the practice race and for the first quarter. Once you hand over that trophy though, I’m high-tailing it out of here. I’d hate to get your console into too much trouble, or mine for that matter.” She patted their shoulders as they flinched away from her close proximity. Slipping her shoes off, she carefully painted herself a pair of durable rocket sneakers over her feet.

“Better get your engines warmed up, gentlemen,” she leapt straight up, the rockets beneath her screaming as they woke, “you’re starting early today.”

They began to trot away, calling back as they ran, “Be sure to really give him Hell, or the deal’s off!”

“You just worry about your race, fellas, and leave the little cuss to me!” With a salute, she fired herself through the air, spinning, twirling, whistling, flipping, and rolling straight for Turbo’s mansion. Swooping low, she circled along the loop of spotlights and slicked her brush in erratic zig-zags for one long, unbroken stroke. Lifting her brush and closing the gap, she shot herself as high as the console would allow and dove back down with howling speed. In the split second before she would have smashed herself face-first into the brick, she slapped the jagged line with the handle of her brush and zipped away, her belly practically scraping against the ground, rolling over to watch each light erupt and explode with a rush of blinding, blue electricity. She could barely hear herself laugh over the wind screaming in her ears.

The wind’s screams, however, were immediately drowned out as the bleachers instantly filled with shrieking fans, seemingly out of nowhere. The ruckus must have woken them up, Make-It guessed. They were probably programmed to appear as soon as anything echoed from the Turbo mansion. Spinning and cutting the air like a bullet, she tore over the featureless heads of the pixelated crowds, painting lines of ridiculous hats over them as she went.

Every single one of them wailed and hollered in either excitement or horror, but Make-It could not even care which. Pre-programmed fireworks tore through the sky alongside her, their explosions rocking the entire console like thunder. Sparks, sparkles, and fire everywhere, she finally stopped to hover in the middle of the track, playing up the crowd with twirls and loops and ridiculous poses.

It was truly remarkable how accurate the twins’ descriptions of these NPCs were. They did not seem to think at all, just scream in jubilation at anything that excited them. Laughing and flipping, Make-It could understand why this little Turbo fella enjoyed his job so much.

An ear-splitting roar shook the entire console and the crowds fell silent with a gasp of anticipation. The deafening, snarling engine revved from behind the shadowed and smoking mass that was the Turbo mansion. A garage door whined and hungry growls echoed from its open mouth.

“Uh oh,” Make-It muttered to herself, “here comes the target. Better make myself scarce.”

She dove back into the gap in the bleachers, peering around the corner to observe the proceedings. As the flames in her shoes died out, the only sound in the entire game became that rumbling engine. Everybody waited, holding their breath.

Tires shrieked and the engine bellowed. A red and white blur shot out from behind the building, tearing through the smoke and trailing streams behind it. The crowds made themselves heard louder than ever, every last NPC making themselves hoarse. Make-It winced and covered her ears. The racers were lucky to have those helmets muffling the piercing screams, she thought to herself.

Jubilant fanfare layered over the manic cheers as the speeding cart flew down the track, huge and colorful sprays of sparks erupting from pipes on its bumper. It handled the swerves and turns with near unnatural accuracy and speed, only accelerating more and more with each horn that trumpeted. Not a minute had passed by when it became nothing but a red lightning bolt surging over the track and all but setting it ablaze.

Finally, after it had its fill of nearly breaking the speed of sound, it spun itself around and drifted almost halfway along the track, skidding to a stop in front of the bleachers. The fanfare climaxed and more fireworks blasted. An overly delighted cackle sounded and he finally leapt clear out of his seat, landing on the hood of his car and sporting a shining yellow grin so wide, his face could barely contain it.

“AGHAHAHA! TURBO-TASTIC! AND A GOOD MORNING TO EACH OF YOU!” He bounded around like a thrilled jack rabbit and sprung up onto his spoiler. His perfectly polished white helmet, emblazoned with a red ‘T’, glittered with the falling sparks. Golden and deeply shadowed eyes sweeping over the crowds as he waved and blew kisses, he continued, “THANK YOU, YES, THANK YOU! IT’S A PLEASURE TO SEE ALL OF YOU AGAIN! THANK YOU VERY MUCH! BUT I MUST ASK YOU, CONTAIN YOURSELVES FOR A MOMENT!” The fans persisted. “YES, I KNOW, IT’S A LOT TO ASK! I’M EXCITED TOO!”

He cartwheeled onto the track and righted himself with a giddy hop. “BUT, AGAIN, I SAY, SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Finally, the screaming ceased. Make-It quirked a brow, watching, lowering herself to the ground. His elastic grin twitched and faded slightly.

He brought his hands together. “I’m glad that you’re so eager to start the day,” he announced, “so very glad! In fact, I’d like to meet whoever gave me that delightful wake-up call. No one’s ever done that before! I never would have thought of my spotlights as alarms. Clever!” He wagged his index finger. “So, my dearly devoted, loyal, Turbo-tastic fans, I ask that if you are that clever person, you come on down here so I can congratulate you personally.”

His hands pressed together harder as he surveyed the crowds. “Anybody? Surely, somebody did it. Don’t be modest, now.”

Silence.

“Really.” His smile disappeared. “Nobody.”

Not a word, a stir, or a cough.

A chuckle started in his throat before his smile could even reappear. “None of you? Alright then, let’s bring out the real suspects!” He sprang back into his glistening car and punched the horn, holding it down for a good ten seconds. Once the echoes of its wails had faded, every garage door behind the bleachers shuddered awake and lifted. Make-It’s heart jolted as she watched all seven doors reveal identical, blue-clad racers. The only one she managed to recognize was Nose, with his face still black and purple. The accumulative roar of their engines rivaled the sound of Turbo’s entrance. In perfect formation, they, one by one, sped out through the tiny gap in the bleachers, spinning up great clouds of dust and dirt as they went. Make-It could barely hear herself cough and sneeze over the jeers and wails of the crowd as the ‘bad guys’ lined up alongside each other on the track and climbed out of their vehicles.

“YES, THAT’S RIGHT! BOO! BOO ON EACH OF YOU! BUT HUSH!” Turbo held up a hand, silencing the crowd. “These fellas know just how scuzzy they are. They’ve only got to be reminded a little bit. Now, WHICH ONE OF YOU NOSEBLEEDS BLEW UP MY LIGHTS!?”

Each one of them frowned deeper than the next, their arms folded and their eyes shaded over by their helmets. Turbo’s lip lifted in a snarl.

“Zipper lips, hmm?” He plopped back into his seat and skid over the track, stopping barely an inch away from the NPC racers’ feet. None of them flinched. “They can’t have up and exploded themselves, now, could they? And none of my dear fans did it, that’s for sure. And I KNOW that I didn’t do it!” He held a hand against his chest before pointing it at the others. “Now, who does that leave?”

With a squeal of tires, he sped to the end of the line and spun his car around to slowly pass each racer by, carefully watching their faces. “Hm… no… nope… negative… no-no… not likely… improbable…” he reached the end of the line at which stood Nose, his bruises dark and his scowl set in stone. Turbo stared up at him, studying the marks on his face before a wicked smile cracked over his own.

“BINGO!” He popped like a spring from his seat and grabbed Nose’s collar in his fist. The blue racer growled and pulled against his grip. “Feeling vengeful for your ugly mug, buster? Thought you’d make my place just as dark as your broken honker?”

“No,” Nose snarled right back, “I didn’t.”

Turbo yanked him closer, so much that their noses practically touched. “Liar, liar.”

Nose was lifted off the ground and slammed onto the track behind Turbo’s car, the crack of his helmet meeting the pavement echoing through the tense silence. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, but not before Turbo fell back into his seat and slammed his foot down on the sparks pedal.

“PANTS ON FIRE!” He cackled. A rainbow of blazing, crackling sparks raged over Nose, completely obscuring him, save for his alarmed and pained yelp that was quickly cut off. The crowds screamed and cheered in encouragement and howled their scolds against the burning racer. It took only a moment for Nose’s form to literally spin out and disappear in a cloud of dust.

Turbo hopped back onto his spoiler to play up the crowd, his arms in the air. Hardly anybody noticed Nose’s outline reappear in a few flashes, sitting peacefully and whole in his car, completely materializing with a cheerful ding.

“HAHAHA, TURBO-TASTIC! Now, unfortunately, I don’t have any telephone wires to hang you from,” Turbo glanced back at the spawned racer, a devilishly smug grin stretching his face. “But I’m sure we could fashion a noose out of all those third-place ribbons of yours. Do you little cusses even get those?”

Nose climbed out and took formation next to the other racers again. His lips were pursed, twitching, almost pulling back into a smirk.

“Now that THAT’S out of the way,” Turbo giggled gleefully, sliding back into his seat and speeding around to face the NPC racers, “let’s get our practice under way, too. Get behind me, gents! And get used to the view, ‘cause it’s all you’ll ever see!”

Their engines howled and tires yelped as they swerved and took formation behind the red car. Make-It slid carefully along the wall of the gap, peeking over the very edge. Nose and Grabby slowly looked over at her with their eyes full of expectancy. She replied with a wink and a finger pressed against her lips.

“Countdown, if you please!” Turbo called to the crowd, starting them off as they shouted together.

“Three!”

Make-It stood quickly, readying herself.

“Two!”

Before anyone could think to say one, Make-It’s rocket shoes awoke and she shot into the open air with a screeching whistle. The crowds and racers gasped in unison as she twirled and showed off her sparks happily, making a bee line straight for Turbo. Too stunned to react farther than crying out in surprise, he was snatched up into the air by his arms.

“WHAT IN THE EIGHT BLINKIN’ BITS!?” He flailed his limbs before Make-It accelerated to full speed in half a second and flew in dizzying loops and swoops over every inch of the console. The fans screamed in panic, and the racers simply watched in confused delight.

Make-It tossed the white-clad racer into the air, catching him bridal style. “Hello!”

“PUT ME DOWN!”

“Okay!” She let him drop.

She barely heard him yelp “No!” as he plummeted. Allowing a moment for him to panic in mid-air, she zoomed down to catch him by his ankles and resume her carefree loops. She sped over the crowds, spinning in tight barrel rolls, leaving a trail of smoke and frantic cursing behind her. Finally, after she felt satisfied with Turbo’s joy ride, she dropped him unceremoniously back in his car, upside down.

By the time he had righted himself, she was hovering a good thirty feet away, holding a checkered flag that she had painted in the blink of an eye.

“Good morning, Turbo! I was your wake-up call. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“YOU… YOU WHAT?!”

“On your marks!”

“WHAT? NO! NO, NOT ON YOUR MARKS!”

“Get set!” She raised the flag above her head.

“DON’T YOU DARE—”

“GO!” The flag dropped.

#wreck it ralph #wir #fanfiction #fix it felix #turbo #make it mavis #writing

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