#just thinking about a couple of years ago when my friend bought me a vinyl of kne of my faves | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedtae · 4 years

Text

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour. Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.” You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi, @jenotation, @allannahmalik, @taeshuworld

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#bangtanfairygarden #btsguild #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #winterbearnet #vantenet #btswritersclub #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #btsgoldnet #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung smut #bts smut

1K notes · View notes

nathanknowsitall · 3 years

Text

Dedicated

Summary: Harry asks what your favorite song off of Fine Line is.

Notes: This is set in December 2019, post-Fine Line release. Happy one year of Fine Line! Hope you enjoy! <3

“Harry, your album is just absolutely perfect! I’m a little bit jealous that we didn’t get to listen to it sooner honestly...”, your friend said, teasing.

Your couple friends had invited you and Harry to go on a double date to celebrate Harry’s album coming out. After you had gone out to dinner, you both were hanging out at their house and drinking wine as the vinyl edition of Fine Line played in the background.

Harry was extremely embarrassed about the whole thing, from the way that most of the conversation at dinner had been about him to the fact that you had cheered drinks “to the wonderful Harry Edward Styles” to the way that Fine Line was playing in the background right now.

His blush was faint as he thanked your friend for the compliment while sipping on his wine glass. You rubbed his leg as you made eye contact with him, making sure that he was alright. He smiled back at you, mouthing “I’m fine” as he winked at you.

“But you got to listen to it early, right, Y/N?”, your friend said. You nodded as you made eye contact with Harry again.

“Yeah, I did...It’s so special, H”, you elaborated as you touched Harry’s face for a second, just selfishly needing the intimacy. His eyes filled with warmth and surprise at your praise. He hadn’t known that you had listened to it early or at all but hearing the praise from your lips was divine.

“Aww...that’s so sweet. You guys are awfully in love”, your friend joked at the PDA.

“Yeah, when are you getting married? We could both be married couples then!”, her husband joked.

Both you and Harry had that wide eyed, deer caught in the headlights look as you looked at them. A little bit of wine had even spilled out of Harry’s mouth and onto his linen shirt.

Your friends hysterically started laughing at you two, making you and Harry laugh as well.

“Well, I think we got that one answered!”, your friend joked as she went to go get something for Harry’s shirt in the kitchen.

“We sure did!”, her husband added, as he stood up. “Who wants some dessert?”, he offered.

“Yes!”, you and Harry both said at the same time, making each other laugh as you walked into their kitchen hand in hand.

After you said goodbye to your friends, you and Harry walked to the car hand in hand, happy as can be.

As Harry drove you back to his house, you couldn’t help but admire him. He was such a talented person and yet he was still so humble about all of his success, blushing about it whenever anyone even mentioned it. He made a point of being kind to everyone he met even when they weren’t so kind to him. He never made anyone in his life feel neglected despite being a famous rockstar. He was so open to learning from others in order to become a better person that it was inspiring. You could think of a million reasons why you loved his personality before you would even think to mention his looks, even though he was the most beautiful person ever.

He made sure you felt equal to him in all respects. He respected your boundaries and you respected his. He never pressured you to change for him. He never made you feel bad about yourself, no matter how bad you were fighting. He never made you feel like he was embarrassed of you, no matter how awkwardly you acted in front of his famous friends or when you couldn’t get a full sentence out when meeting his mom for the first time. He made you feel admired emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, sexually, in every way.

As you got out of the car and into his house, your thoughts wandered back to the conversation you had earlier with your friends. You knew it was too early to consider marriage, you had only been dating for a couple of months, but you were sure that Harry was the love of your life. Even if you never got married or even broke up, you knew there was always some part of yourself that would be dedicated to Harry.

As you wandered outside into the backyard, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about Harry and what a future with him would look like.

After a while, you felt two arms come up from around you and a head sit on your shoulder.

“You’ve been quiet all night, love. What’s happening in here?”, he said as he kissed your temple. You felt yourself blush at the thought of telling Harry about how you were thinking about what a wonderful father he’d be.

“I’ll tell you later, but I need to know about you right now. Are you okay? I know that it was...a lot for you tonight...”, you said, as Harry lightly giggled.

“I’m okay, baby...it’s was just...a bit much”, he said honestly. You nodded then laid your head on his chest, swaying slightly. This was something that you had learned was comforting for him.

“But also...I’ve been thinking about what you said about the album...”, Harry said.

You pulled apart from him, looking at him in the eyes, curious about what he meant.

“I meant what I said, Harry. I absolutely I love it”. Harry seemed embarrassed but satisfied as he smirked at you.

“Oh, so you’re a fan?”, Harry cockily said as he winked at you, making you suddenly feel very shy as you looked down and buried your face in his chest.

Harry must’ve known that you listened to his music, but you had never really discussed it in depth with each other. You had never really admitted that you were a fan of his.

You never told him that when you cleaned, his music filled your house. You never told him that his music was prevalent throughout your playlists. You never told him that you had bought his albums despite the fact that you knew Harry would get them for you for free. You never told him that you had cried, laughed, and sang loudly to his songs in your free time.

“And so what if I am?”, you said, teasingly, challenging Harry. You lifted your head from his chest and looked into his eyes. They seemed to be searching your eyes, looking for some trick or joke in them. You just stared at his, admiring as his pupils dilated.

“If you’re such a fan, you must have a favorite song...”, Harry teased.

“Well...I have a lot of favorites...”, you teased back.

“How about from your first listen?”, he specified. “The early listen you got? Hmm? What was a standout for you?”, he teased.

You hid your head in his shoulder, embarrassed about how you basically jumped at the opportunity when Jeff offered to let you have a listen. You could tell that Harry wasn’t mad or angry or had any hard feelings about it, but you also knew that Harry would probably never let it go if he knew what a fan of him you were.

“Umm...I liked Cherry a lot...”, you whispered into his ear. You could hear his breath hitch and you started to rub his back, trying not to freak him out.

“You don’t feel weird knowing that it’s about my ex?”, he whispered.

You immediately shook your head, “Never Harry. I never would be.”

You heard him audibly let out a sigh. You giggled a bit as you separated from him, holding his hands instead as you looked at him.

“It’s just such a beautiful song about love and exes and loving too hard and heartbreak and seeing them with a new person and-It’s so good Harry”, you said as you looked at where your hands were linked.

“You don’t think it’s pathetic?”, he asked shyly.

“Isn’t that the point of it?”, you said as you raised your head up to see him. He still had his head down, looking guilty and embarrassed. You came up to him and hugged him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“I love you so, so, so unbelievably much Harry. I don’t care if every song you release is about someone else, as long as I know that you’re as in love with me as I am with you right now.”

Harry pushed you softly off of him and you looked into his red-rimmed eyes.

“I am so in love with you, Y/N. You make every day of my life better. You make me feel so comfortable and loved and special even when I come home from work late and complain about things that are so stupid and petty you still listen. I love when we get to spend the night together and you lay on my chest while we watch romcoms. I love when you let me take care of you when you come home from work and let me make dinner and make a bath for you. I love you so much I can’t believe that we only met a few months ago and-I was going to save this for our one year anniversary, but I can’t wait any longer-will you marry me, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N?”. He said as went down on one knee, slipped a red velvet box out of his jacket, and opened it to reveal a gorgeous ring.

You felt your heart beat so fast as you put your hands over your mouth. He looked expectantly up at you, eyes watery, yours probably no better. You swallowed hard, finally letting out a small “Yes.”

#harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles/reader #harry/reader #tina writes #peterspeachy writes #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry fan fiction #harry fan fic #harry fanfic #harry fic #harry styles #one year of fine line #dedicated

147 notes · View notes

dustedmagazine · 3 years

Text

Listed: Dr. Pete Larson

Dr. Pete Larson runs Dagoretti Records now, he’s gotten there by an unusually long and winding road. Earlier in his career, Larson fronted 25 Suaves and Couch and ran BULB records. He also trained as an epidemiologist and spent time in Kenya studying the transmission of malaria. While in Kenya, he developed an interest in a lute-like eight-stringed instrument called a nyatiti and studied it with the master player Oduor Nyagweno. All these interests collide in a striking first album from Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band, where the nyatiti “cuts through a haze of electric rock distortion, pinging rhythmically and restlessly against floating euphorias of ululating vocals,” per Jennifer Kelly’s review. Here he lists some favorites from several continents.

I have been asked to create one of these lists for Dusted and here’s what I came up with. Making these lists is kind of difficult. I have a hard time remembering what I’ve been listening to at any moment, but here is a collection of old and new that get frequent airplay in my home. I play a Kenyan lyre, so this heavily leans toward lyre and harps and East African music in general, with some other choice cuts thrown in.

Musicians Of The National Dance Company Of Cambodia — Homrong (Real World Records)

youtube

I think I got this record (CD) back in the early 90s when I was selling music to Caroline Records. A friend sent me a box of CD promos, most of which wasn’t very interesting, but fortunately, this one was included. I don’t really know anything about Cambodian music, but for some reason, this collection of mid-tempo Cambodian court jamz plays every couple of months. Lots of weird sort of lurching rhythms and chorus singing with an erhu like instrument over it. A great listen.

Maleem Mahmoud Ghania w/ Pharoah Sanders — Trance of the Seven Colors

The Trance Of Seven Colors by Maleem Mahmoud Ghania w/ Pharoah Sanders

Trance inducing this is. Maleem Mahmoud Ghania is (was) one of the 20th century masters of Moroccan Gnawa music, a sort of spiritual, bass-heavy, rolling kind of music of Morocco. Any recording by Maleem Mahmoud is going to impress, but this mash of up of Gnawa with the great Pharoah Sanders is another level. If you are familiar with Gnawa music, it is a little disorienting to hear Sanders howl over the slow burn trance jamz but you are quickly drawn into what a perfect matchup this ended up being. Released on CD in the 90s, it fortunately has finally gotten a proper vinyl release.

Momoyama Harue — “Lullaby for the mother demon’s baby” (桃山晴衣* ‎– 鬼の女の子守唄)

youtube

I was playing the shamisen for a while (a three stringed lute from Japan) and found Momoyama Harue as part of my research. Shamisen is kind of a folky instrument for drinking parlors and entertainment of old Japan. The instrument and the music was nearly dead but saw a revival in the 1960s, similar to folk revivals in the US that brought the banjo back. Momoyama, however, was kind of an outlier, more arty than folky, and more poetry than song. Rather than box the music in an imagined past or try to hopelessly smash it into amplified rock music, she pushed it forward, blending it with ambient synth along with Indian and Middle Eastern musics. One of her best collaborations was with the great Egyptian oud player Hamza el Din that was nearly dead until the 1960s. All of the songs on this record are haunting (as the title suggests), but these tracks with el Din are truly singular. I have been searching for a vinyl copy of this record for years; one day I’ll get lucky.

Lucas Odote — “J. Oreng”

Nyatiti Singles Volume 1 by Lucas Odote

I spent several years in Kenya learning to play the nyatiti, an eight stringed lyre historically played by a group of people in an area around Lake Victoria. I also spent time collecting records, searching for hours in dusty boxes for Kenyan traditional music records. One of my best finds was at Jimmy’s Records in Kenyatta Markets, this record by the great Nairobi based nyatiti player Lucas Odote. Most nyatiti records are just a guy playing solo and more ethno than funky. But this one seems to be Lucas teaming up with what I think to be Nairobi funksters, the Loki Toki Tok band. At least that’s what I can guess. My copy is beat to hell. It took some doing to get some sound out of it, but this is one of my faves in my collection.

Siti Muharam — Siti of Unguja (Romance Revolution On Zanzibar)

Siti of Unguja (Romance Revolution On Zanzibar) by Siti Muharam

I swear I saw Siti Muharam sing on the deck of a hotel bar while vacation in Zanzibar several years ago. I can’t be certain, but I am pretty sure it was her singing for the band I saw. The traditional form of Taarab music is something to be experienced. Taarab music comes from the Arab coast of East Africa, and is this fantastic mix of local feel and Arab sounds, overlapped with heart wrenching songs of lost love and longing. I think there are some foreigners involved in this production, but this is an excellent document of Taarab music at its best.

Grandmaster Masese — “Orogena rwa Baba”

Grandmaster Masese: New African Soundz Singles No.1 by Grandmaster Masese

It might be gauche to put records from your own label on a list like this, but I am first a music fan and second a musician and third a music seller… so this one stays. G-master is a friend of mine from Kenya and one of the best humans I know. One of just a handful of people who play the Obokano, a giant 8 stringed lyre that emits an unforgettable sub-bass buzzing sound and this was his first release in the US and one of my favorite records ever. We recorded this in his kitchen in Nairobi with just a couple of mics over dinner. G is a cool guy. You should listen to his music.

Yagi Michiyo — Seventeen

youtube

Yagi is another Japanese musician who specializes in what one would think is a “traditional” instrument, but who brings much more to the table than one would expect. Yagi is a koto player by training. You have probably heard koto in the background music for scenes of Japan in American movies. The version you hear there is mostly lifeless and flat, kind of like a plastic chair in the corner. Yagi, however, plays the 17 string bass koto, invented in the 1920s or so, to try and give new life to the instrument. Yagi creates weird percussive, dissonant music that I can’t really get enough of.

Asnakech Worku (featuring Hailu Mergia) — Asnakech

Asnakech by Asnakech Worku

Asnakech Worku was a lot of things; pioneer, actress, but most notably a female Krar player. Certainly there might have been other female Krar players in Ethiopia at the time, but Krar players are mostly men. The Krar is a lyre from Ethiopia, mostly played with one hand, though there are several playing styles out there. Worku plays haunting sounds on her Krar on this record, backed up by famous Ethiopian keyboardist Hailu Mergia, who really needs no intro.

Ogola Opot — “Domtila Ogola”

youtube

This will probably be the only 78 on this list. Ogola Opot is considered the grandfather of the Kenyan nyatiti, coming to prominence in the 1960s and 70s, and creating the genre we know as Siaya style “traditional nyatiti.” If someone asks me what nyatiti music sounds like, this is probably where I would have people start. I include this first because it is a great record and second because it was my holy grail for a while (though I always have new holy grails) and managed to find a pristine copy for sale from a place in France recently. I am not going to say how much I paid for it.

Sosena Gebre Eyesus — S/T (Little Axe Records)

Sosena Gebre Eyesus by Sosena Gebre Eyesus

I bought this record off the net because I am a huge fan of Begena music, this haunting, trance inducing music from Ethiopia that appears to be the go-to for Ethiopian Christians… but this record explained nothing of that. Just a picture of a lady with a begena and no other info…. It took me a while to put together what the record was and where it came from, but the sounds contained within are impeccable. Just 40 minutes of weird undersea tones on a giant bass lyre.

#dusted magazine #listed #dr. pete larson #Dagoretti Records #Musicians Of The National Dance Company Of Cambodia #maleem mahmoud ghania #pharoah sanders #momoyama harue #lucas odote #siti muharam #grandmaster masese #yagi michiyo #asnakech worku #hailu mergia #Ogola Opot #sosena gebre eyesus

6 notes · View notes

avaantares · 4 years

Text

My New Ventilated Social-Distancing Movie Theatre

(or, how I bought a 2020-proof social life for less than $100)

So the USA is (still) a hot mess in terms of pandemic response. Because both my father and I are at increased risk for complications from COVID-19, and my sister and I have to work together in person to run our workshops, my entire family has been in a state of self-quarantine for six months straight (with no end in sight). But it’s hard being in constant isolation, so the four households that comprise my local family have been doing weekly outdoor gatherings -- with plenty of hand sanitizer and safely-spaced tables -- so we can see each other and socialize at a distance. However, that’s only feasible when the weather cooperates.

I’ve also really missed watching movies with friends, which prior to the pandemic had been a regular activity. I have a 70-year-old tripod screen I inherited from my grandfather and a projector I use for running panels at conventions, so we’ve watched occasional DVDs outdoors, but we could only do that on evenings without wind (which could tear the brittle screen) or rain (which would damage the projector), and we have to be careful not to have the sound too loud because it might disturb the neighbors.

A couple weeks ago, when our city delayed reopening again due to rising COVID-19 case numbers, I decided to convert half of my garage into an outdoor movie theatre. It turned out pretty well, and it only cost about what I would spend on movie tickets in an average year (and since I’m not going to any movies in 2020, it’s pretty much a wash). I’m sharing the details in case it gives anyone else ideas for making a health-conscious social hangout!

Obviously YMMV, and in areas with higher case numbers (hi, FL & AZ), this still might be too much contact. Be safe and follow official recommendations to prevent viral spread, folks!

The Space

Before I settled on the garage, I considered building a movie space under a tent canopy (nixed because they’re almost impossible to anchor through Midwest storm winds) or carport kit (too expensive and high-maintenance for me), so there are definitely other options depending on where you live, your typical weather, and what space you have available!

My garage has an unusual layout that allows for better-than-average ventilation. When it was first built, it was a 2 1/2-car garage with the doors facing the street and windows on the side. About 40 years later, the owners decided to move the driveway to the other side of the house, so they built a second garage attached to the drive-door side and knocked out an end wall to put in a new overhead door. This means that by square footage, the garage could hold four cars, but the way the drive doors are situated, it’s a divided two-car garage with a bunch of extra space at the far end. The two sides are connected by one of the original overhead doors, which means that three of the four walls have openings that allow for air movement. (More on that below.)

Normally there’s a car in each side of the garage, but I decided I was willing to park outside all summer for the sake of having a social life. Over the course of a week, I emptied and thoroughly cleaned the half of the garage that has the windows.

Air Flow

Constant fresh air flow is critical to flushing aerosolized particles that can spread the virus, so in order to make a safe indoor space, I had to simulate outdoor air movement. I opened all three overhead doors and both windows, then placed several fans to draw air through the building: One in each window, one along the side wall, and a box fan in the connecting door between the two sides of the garage to pull more air in from the outside. To make sure air was actually moving through the building and not just circulating within it, I turned on all the fans while I was sweeping the (very dusty) floor and walls, and adjusted the fan angles until the dust blew straight out the overhead door, rather hanging in the air or gathering in the corners. (Experts recommend that to prevent virus transmission, indoor spaces should have 100% air turnover every 10 minutes; obviously I have no way of testing that in a garage, but there is a constant light breeze through the building and stuff seems to be blowing out, so I feel pretty good about it.)

Projection Setup

I already had the projector and DVD player (I took the one out of my living room, since I usually just watch DVDs on my game console anyway), but I wanted a larger wall-mounted screen, since my grandfather’s 1950s screen was designed for showing vacation slides in a living room, not wide-screen films. Hanging fabric screens are very cheap, but I opted for a 120″ retractable screen so it would stay clean in the dusty garage. I also have an old set of monitor speakers that provide nice stereo sound.

Seating

The beauty of setting up in a garage is that it’s basically outdoors, so you can use lawn furniture or bean bags or old chairs you pulled out of someone’s trash (I do this regularly; it’s how I got my entire patio set). Measuring out at least 6 feet between each table and staggering their positions so nobody was directly downwind of another table, I set up all the card tables and folding tables I owned, and put a pair of chairs by each one so that couples from the same household could share a table but not be in close contact with any other groups. I put my largest folding table (which was also salvaged from the trash -- seriously, it’s the best way to get stuff!) against the wall right by the open door to serve as a snack table, so it’s on the opposite wall from the seating and nobody would be breathing on the food. I covered all the tables with decorative heavy-duty vinyl tablecloths (mostly for sanitation purposes, because those tables have been sitting out in my garage and I know I’ve had raccoons and opossums out there -- not to mention the colony of bats that lives in the loft off the back of the garage).

This setup can seat up to eight people, and even provides a place for serving food. (I put pump bottles of hand sanitizer on each table and on the food table, and people wear face masks when they’re loading up their plates, so there’s minimal contamination risk there.)

Total Cost

My out-of-pocket cost for this whole project was only about $83, though that’s because I already had a lot of stuff lying around. Here’s a more complete breakdown:

Fans: I already owned the box fan ($25 new) and a couple other fans that I’d picked up super cheap at garage sales ($5 or so), because my house is old and the HVAC is not very efficient. The only new fan I bought for this project was a refurbished air circulator from Amazon ($14), because I needed a small but high-velocity fan to fit in a window.

Projection setup: The only new thing I bought was the screen, which was $65 including shipping (though non-retractable fabric screens start around $10-15, so if you’re on a budget you can get one very cheap). I bought the projector used on eBay about eight years ago. I think I paid around $40 for it then, but prices have come down since; I’ve seen discount projectors for as low as $20. The DVD player is a cheapo region free model, which I got a decade ago for maybe $30. The speakers were secondhand; I’ve also used an old set of external PC speakers ($10 from Goodwill) when running video off my laptop, and they worked well enough in the indoor space.

Seating: Almost all the outdoor furniture I own came from other people’s trash, so I didn’t pay anything for it! Any kind of seating or tables will work, though. I did invest about $4 for new tablecloths, which I got on seasonal clearance.

Bonus Perks

I’ve discovered that the garage walls block a LOT of light and sound unless you’re standing directly outside the drive doors, so we can watch movies for half the night or stay up late chatting and we aren’t disturbing the neighbors! We couldn’t run movies out on the patio late at night because the sound would carry to neighboring houses.

Also, when we’re watching a film in the evening, we get to watch my bats fly through the garage on their way to and from dinner! (Which might be an annoyance to the bats if we were out there all the time, but we try to keep our volume low and we’re only out there about once a week, so I don’t think we’re disturbing them too much.) Bats are protected in my state, as some of the native species are critically endangered, and we try to encourage nesting as they’re essential to pest insect control. I love watching them fly around!

The setup also works well for video games. A local friend and I had been playing online, late at night because it was the only time we could get enough bandwidth to maintain connection (the ISP in my area is not super reliable), but now we can sit on opposite sides of the garage and play local co-op with no lag:

So, in summary, my “movie theatre” is by no means a luxurious setup, but it was cheap :) and it’s a great way for my small pandemic social bubble to get together and chat, have a movie night, or play games without risking being in a closed room together.

#social distancing #home theatre #my rock star life #2020

13 notes · View notes

darth-el · 4 years

Text

You’re So Damn Hypnotised

Pairing: Billy x Reader Warnings: Oh boy where do I start? Drugs (weed and cocaine), alcohol, descriptions of (really bad) sex, underage drinking and just general debauchery because. I’m going to say angst as well and there will most likely be smut in part 2 if you want. Probably going to do a little 18+ warning here as well Song Request: You’ll be Fine - Palaye Royale A/N: This is 5472 words. My longest one to date and I’m nowhere near done so part 2 is heading your way. The song to me felt like it had a seedy undertone to it so this is just pure sleaze on a road trip. I also took another bit of inspiration with the record label stuff from a program called Vinyl as I thought it would work well with this. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcomed. I am also English so I have no idea how long it takes to get from one place to another by road in the USA.

Masterlist

Part 2

Your life in London was fast and energetic. You were the daughter of punks who hung around SEX. After school you always went there and met your parents who would have been smoking joints with the people who turned out to be the punk icons. Your first joint was given to you by Sid Vicious when you were about ten. No one believed that when you told them. Your father started working for a large record label when you were five and transferred to New York when you were fourteen with a seventeen year old. You had never forgiven him for that, your mother blamed you for the end of their relationship which left your relationship with her strained. After your dad left she decided to study science and become a scientist, her logic was “I was good with drugs.” It became even more strained when she announced that you were moving to America as well. You hoped she meant to New York so you could be near your dad. This was not the case at all. She showed you your worst nightmare. It was called Hawkins. This was the America you had seen in films, it tried to be wholesome and patriotic. Within the first night of being there you had already found yourself driving to Indianapolis, but you were stopped when the cops pulled you over saying that the car, (your dad had bought you as a way to say “Welcome to America, I'll be father of the year from a distance”) was stolen. You still hadn't forgiven her for that.

Your first month at school was a whirlwind. Within that month your dad rang you to let you know that he wanted you to drive to LA with a friend, stop over Las Vegas, just because he knew you would like it and see a band he thought was called “Red Peppers” at a club on New Years Eve because he wanted to potentially sign them. It was going to be all expense paid and he was going to send you the money for gas, motels, and anything else you needed. The only problem was you didn't have any friends to go with. That was until one night you got really drunk at Tina's Christmas party. You were always spontaneous. You went to Barcelona with people you met two days before and spent the summer on a house boat with people you had met two hours into arriving in Barcelona. When you came back your mother fell through the floor which you thought was a bit unfair because you left her note. Her argument was that you were sixteen and they were in their twenties. Feeling spontaneous and drunk you ended up finding yourself locked in a bathroom with Billy, you laying in the bath with a joint and a bottle of whiskey you bought yourself, him sitting on the counter next to the sink also with a joint you had rolled for him planning the road trip to LA.

He dropped you off and you pulled him into your house and into your room, which was decorated with photos that gave him a glimpse of your past life. There were a couple that really caught his eye. One of you laying in bed with a lace bra on, red lips, cigarette hanging out of your mouth. Love bites covering your exposed skin as you stared down the lens of the camera. “16th Birthday” There was a little heart next to it which acted like your signature. The other one of you was you sitting on Tommy Lee's lap legs up in the air as you're leaning back laughing holding a bottle of champagne. “Motley Crue – 27/03/83” it read with the little heart on it. He didn't really think much of you at school as you kept your head down and when he did think of you he thought you were an uptight bitch who wasn't interested in him. You made that clear the first day when you were like stone when he hit on you. There was more to you that met the eye. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol but he was intrigued.

The December air was crisp outside. You were hoping LA was going to be warm, you craved the winter sun. You wrapped yourself up in a couple of blankets and made your way downstairs with your suitcases, with Billy's help. You were both drunkenly laughing trying to be quiet and also not trying to fall down the stairs due to the blankets that were wrapped around you. The moon illuminated the street as you walked to Billy's car you were dancing under the light the moon with your blankets still wrapped around you swaying with your movements. For the first time since moving to Hawkins you felt free and alive.

You both started to sober up, by that point it was too late to turn back. You were way into Illinois. Your feet were resting up on the dash you were sunk into your seat with arms resting and hanging over the back of your seat. Billy had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. There was a spark in the air. You looked at Billy whose eyes were stuck on the road. A month ago you were indifferent to him. He thought he was king of the school, he was egotistical. He was charming. He was like every guy you had dated. That's exactly why in your drunken state you chose him for this road trip. There was a comfort in the familiarity. He thought you were unlike anyone he ever met. It was like you were leading this double life. You were hard working at school, and quiet. He didn't realise you had an edge and that edge was sharp and a secret party animal who partied with the best it seemed. He realised when he was sitting in Tina's bathroom you gave him a way to escape from his family, even if it was for just over a week. This was the first time since he was a child that he felt carefree.

After a few hours you both realised you were getting tired and hadn't slept for almost a day. You found an old motel, you didn't know where you were. You didn't even know if you were heading in the right direction but to be honest you didn't care. You could have ended up in Mexico and you would have been happy. If you ended up in Canada you would have be slightly less happy. As you walked to the desk to check in you could tell this was motel was for truckers and affairs. It was musty and looked like it hadn't been decorated since the 1960's and hadn't been cleaned since the 1970's. You didn't care though, you felt an affinity to places like this.

“Room for two?” The girl didn't look up as she was chewing gum and filing her nails.

“You got it doll.” Billy leaned on the desk putting on his award winning charm which made the girl look up at him and as she handed him the key you noticed their hands touched, most likely by design on Billy's part causing her to blush. You rolled your eyes at this as you snatched the key from him as you were getting tired and wanted to sleep and made your way to the room. You opened the door and it was smokey. The walls were a dirty pink, with yellow smoke stains and god knows what else. The bathroom light when you switched it on was buzzing and flickering. Everything in the bathroom was avocado green and also stained with hard water. You were quite shocked there was no mould. You dumped yourself on the bed that you claimed and laid down on it as Billy walked through the door with his luggage and dumping it down next what was going to be his bed for the night. He looked at the TV in the corner which looked like it was from the 1960's and had seen better days. He sat on the edge of his bed and lit up a cigarette and turned on the TV. You walked into the bathroom to get out of your dress from the party and ready to go to sleep as tiredness had washed over you and you wanted to sleep through a potential hangover. You walked out the bathroom wearing nothing but a white loose fitting t-shirt and black panties that were nothing special, but they were comfortable. Billy snapped his eyes off the old black and white television and looked like he was eating you up with his eyes. You sat on you bed and grabbed another cigarette. Before you could even light it yourself Billy had stretched over to you with his lighter aflame ready to light it for you. You smiled at him softly and he matched your smile. You laid back on your bed resting on the headboard watching what was happening on the screen but not really taking it in.

“How long do you think until we get to Vegas?” You asked flicking the ash into the ash tray which was on the table which separated your bed.

“If we're going in the right direction, two days max,” Billy shrugged making himself more comfortable on his bed. When the cigarette had reached the end and you stubbed it out climbed under the blankets. “Do you want me to turn it off?” Billy asked as he went to the grab the control in preparation for the “yes.”

“I like the background noise while I sleep.” You said gently as you yawned and sinking further into the bed. Billy shrugged at this answer and made himself even more comfortable.

You woke up a few hours later with your hangover looming over you. Billy was asleep still as you quietly crept outside hoping there was a convenient store nearby as you had a craving for candy and a slurpee. You asked the girl at the reception if there was a 7/11 nearby, after not getting much of an answer out of her you decide to walk along the empty road in hopes of something that could help with your sugar craving. You gave up after about ten minutes as it was too cold for your liking and you weren't prepared to freeze to death for a slurpee. You walked back to your room to find Billy was in the shower. You plonked yourself down on the bed and deciding to watch the frazzled television. Billy came out of the bathroom not expecting you to be there as he was wrapped in nothing but in a towel. His wet hair clung to his wet skin. You couldn't help but notice the how the water droplets rolled down his chest.

“Bathroom is free if you want it.” He mumbled looking at you, as you looked at him biting you lip. You weren't sure if reality was going to hit you and make you both realise that this was not a good idea or if this would go in a completely direction.

“Thanks,” You slightly shook your head as if to snap yourself out of thought. “By the way it is cold out there.” You looked at him over your shoulder smiling before closing the door behind you. The light was making your headache worse. You turned on the shower and there wasn't much hot water so you had to make do. The lukewarm water was definitely not what you needed after venturing outside. The water started to chuck out cold making you yelp from the shock of it. You heard Billy knock on the door. “Are you okay in there?” He sounded mildly concerned. Partially because if you had slipped over and injured yourself he didn't want to walk in on you naked and potentially covered in blood.

“The water is cold!” You answered back as you tried to manoeuvrer yourself so you could wash your hair without getting too much cold water on you. You finally bit the bullet and plunged yourself fully into the cold water, making you curse like a sailor loudly.

You got out the shower and wrapped the towel around you and made your way into the room where Billy was sitting in his jeans and a white vest smoking a cigarette. You went into your suitcase and pulled out some clothes for the day. You could feel Billy's eyes on you. As you walked back into the bathroom you took Billy's cigarette out from between his lips and started smoking it yourself winking at him before closing bathroom door to get changed. You both decided to check out and make your way to Las Vegas which would probably take another day or so.

You managed to reach Colorado and the scenery was snowy and beautiful. You were once again relaxed in the passenger seat with your Polaroid camera in your lap. You were looking at Billy who was smoking, you never realised how much of a heavy smoker he was.

“Do you want play a game?” You asked breaking the silence.

“What game?” He looked at you like you were interrogating him.

“20 questions,” You sat up so you were kneeling on the seat facing him and you lit up a cigarette and smiled.

“You go first,” His eyes went back to the road sounding unsure about this. You pursed your lips in thought and took a drag of your cigarette.

“First kiss?” You blurted out. He looked at you a bit shocked at how quickly you asked the question, as he shifted in his seat.

“I was 10,” He said nonchalantly hoping that would be it, but he caught you out the corner of his eyes looking at him like you wanted more information. “Her name was Sammy and she was a neighbour who I had crush on.” He confessed quietly.

“I can't imagine you as a child,” You laughed as you exhaled creating smoke rings. This garnered his interest for some reason. “Were you as cocky then as you are now?” You teased making him laugh slightly.

“I was worse, especially after that kiss,” he sighed. You could see that he was slowly becoming more relaxed around you. “What about yours?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I was nine or ten,” You sat up slightly to roll the window so you could throw butt of the cigarette out. “We were playing kiss chase. It was so bad. It was literally all teeth.” You laughed at this memory and you could feel the clanking of teeth again which made you cringe in your seat.

“First time?” He asked with a slightly cocky smile on his face.

“It was so bad,” You giggled. “Okay, I was sixteen as was he. I was his first girlfriend and we decided to take the plunge...because his parents were out,” You start laughing even more. “It was awkward, it was painful, and foreplay was not part of his vocabulary. I literally timed him and he lasted for 90 seconds. After that, hearing 'you're so tight' makes me cringe,” You laughed hard and adjusted your position in the seat. “Yours?” You were still laughing as was he.

“Better than yours,” he was laughing at the thought of some fourteen year old boy thinking he was a sex god when in reality the girl was timing him because she wanted it over and done with. “I was sixteen. I was at a party, and I ended up talking to this smoking hot girl,”

“How hot?” You asked curiously.

“Think Brooke Shields, but hotter,” You raised your eyebrows in response partially because you wouldn't have clocked him as a Brooke Shields fan. “She was more experienced, knew what she liked and wasn't afraid to tell me. Turned out all the guys wanted to sleep with her, when they found I did...” His smile was still cocky as he took a drag on his cigarette.

“In came King Billy,” You giggled and he pointed at you with his cigarette and nodded. “Staying on the subjects of firsts, first memory?” You beamed a cheesy smile up at him, not that he was looking.

“I'm not sure how old I was, but I vaguely remember my mom carrying me and we're in our kitchen and she's dancing to Janis Joplin,” He sighed, taking another drag and throwing it out the window. “You?”

“I think it was my parents arguing in the next room over, I always knew when they argued because there were more holes in the wall,” You lit up a cigarette as you sank back into your seat. He stared at you blankly. The way you presented yourself gave him the impression your life was far removed from that. “Eyes on the road Hargrove!” You scolded him with no malicious intent as you thought you were going to crash as you couldn't see properly over the dash.

“The road is empty,” He laughed at your overreaction which made you roll your eyes. He wasn't exactly the safest driver at the best of times. “Worst sex you've had?” He tried to subtly look at you so he wouldn't going to get in trouble again.

“Before I moved here,” You had a think and tapped your chin with your fingers rhythmically. You stared off into the distance and you could see mountains line the horizon. “I slept with a yuppie, like I often did. He was coked up. Like they often were. We get back to his and he is obviously addicted as he can't get it up,” You bit your lips as you were telling this story because you couldn't believe you were telling Billy it.

“Jesus,” Billy laughed loudly.

“There's more,” You matched Billy's laugh somehow.

“More?” Billy sounded shocked at how much worse it could get.

“He goes to the bathroom, and comes back completely naked with a hard on, he does what he needs to do. Until I realise I am fucking numb down there,” Billy's eyes were as wide as dinner plates hearing this.

“Did he-” Billy could barely get his words out.

“Coke on the dick,” You nodded stifling your laugh. “I now need to hear yours to make me feel better.” You teased slightly as you went to take a photo of Billy who was lighting another cigarette.

“Also before I moved to that shithole,” Billy's eyes were glued to the road so he could avoid eye contact. “I met this woman on the beach who was very impressed with my surfing,” He smiled and you looked at him curiously. “She's trying every move in the book to get me back to her place,”

“Something you must have experience in,” You teased and a cigarette packet hit you in the face.

“It worked,” Billy laughed wondering how it worked in hindsight.

“Of course,” You threw the cigarette packet back at him and you felt pleased when it hit him in the face.

“We go back to hers, she's not enthused or anything. It's radio silent. Next thing she is shouting the name 'Will' loudly and the bedroom door opens and it's her boyfriend who chases me out of the house.” You burst out laughing at this which made you feel better about your own bad experience. You pull a pen out of your jacket pocket and scribbled “20 Questions – 23/12/84” and put your signature heart on it. He watched you curiously.

The rest of the journey involved you and him talking about childhood memories. Both the good and bad, funny sex stories, and comparing arrests. It shocked him that you had been arrested more than him. He started to realise you were not who he expected. You were mysterious, you were spontaneous, and he was actually enjoying your company. He wanted to know everything about you. You were sitting way down in your seat with your legs now hanging out of the window when the car started to overheat making Billy pull over so it could cool down. You were sitting on the opposite side of the empty road to him watching him as he smoked a cigarette with his sunglasses on and leaning against the car with foot resting on it. He was in his leather jacket and a white shirt. The sun was beating down on him. He almost looked like James Dean, if James Dean had a mullet or was an 80's icon. You took a photo of him without him realising. His mind elsewhere. You walked over to him smiling with the photo that was slowly developing and you leaned on the roof of the car and grabbed a pen out of your jacket pocket. “Somewhere in the Nevada Desert – 24/12/84” it read with the heart next to it. Billy looked at you and held out his hand as if he was asking for the camera. You handed it to him feeling slightly confused. “Hood,” He stated not making the confusion go away as he pulled it closed so you could sit on it. “Any damage, you're paying for it,” He helped you climb on which was difficult as your dress didn't allow any room for any serious movement. The moment he put the camera to his face your inner model came out. “Stay there.” He instructed as he went to the car to get more film. When he came back he started to take more photos of you while you more natural. You slid off the hood and walked over to him and rested your chin on his shoulder as you watched the photos develop. It was the natural ones that caught your eye more than anything.

“Not bad Hargrove.” You smiled up at him. Your favourite one was of you laughing and moving your hair out of your face, that was the one you decided you had to keep. Billy kept one of you looking seductive which did not surprise you in the least.

Once you were back in the car and driving you still had your legs hanging out the window. You took a photo of your legs which once the photo had developed you saw that there was cactus in the background as well which made happy. You titled it “Hawkins to LA – 24/12/84”. You looked up at Billy who was focused on the road. “How much longer?” You asked watching him, he looked down at you now focusing on your intently smiling.

“Between 20 minutes and three hours.” He laughed as you took a photo of him. You decided to title it “Between 20 minutes and 3 hours – 24/12/84”.

WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS population 530,000 the sign read as you drove past it. The sun had set and the lights and noise overstimulated the senses. You hung out of the car window taking a photo of the road ahead. You ducked back into the car and named the photo “population 530,000 - 24/12/84” Everything was garish and tacky. You instantly knew why it was called Sin City. You both found a cheap hotel which was just off the strip. The hotel looked like it was the place CEOs took their mistresses when they wanted to hide their affairs. Your room only had a double bed much to your annoyance. The air smelt of the pheromones left behind by the last people. Billy was fearful of what he was going to find in this room and in the bathroom. You felt at ease here. You were getting slightly worried about why you felt so at home in these crappy motels. You dumped your bags down and made your way to the bathroom so you could brush your teeth before you hopped in the shower.

“You ever been to a strip club?” You smiled at Billy leaning against the door frame as you brushed your teeth.

“Why do you ask?” He sounded somewhat defensive. He felt somewhat embarrassed because one thing this road trip had taught him so far was that you were two steps above him when it came to sex and anything debauched. No one had given him a run for his money like you had. As you walked into the bathroom to spit the toothpaste out he followed you and leaned against the door frame himself. He was deep in thought and was also transfixed on your ass.

“Great, neither have I,” You said as you noticed Billy in the mirror staring at your ass. “Oi Hargrove!” You shouted trying to get his attention. “Are you listening or ya too busy staring at my arse.” You realised how much your London accent came out then and it snapped Billy out of his train of thought and made him decide to stand next to you by the sink. He was towering above you and you could smell the cigarettes on him and his lingering cologne. Your breath hitched slightly when you realised how close he was to you.

“It's just too distracting.” He had his charming smile on his face making you push him away playfully.

“Well I'm going for a shower.” You looked up him trying to show that you were not amused, but you felt a smile creep along your face. He took that as his cue to leave.

The shower was hot, this was the first hot shower you had since you had been on this road trip. Midway through shampooing your hair you realised the towels were on the bed. “Fuck,” You muttered to yourself leaning your forehead against the tiled wall which was covered in mildew, immediately washed your face as you remembered how vile the wall was. You could hear the television on in room. “Billy!” You called waiting for an answer. No answer. You decided to finish up quickly. You opened the door which got Billy's attention. “I need a towel.” You sighed poking your head around the door.

“Want it?” Billy smirked at you. “You'll have to come and get it,” He teased. You felt yourself becoming annoyed by this.

“Unless you want me to kill you in your sleep pass me the towel,” You said holding your arm out and as he passed you the towel.

“You wouldn't dare.” He winked at you which made you hit him with the towel.

“Watch me.” You grinned at him as you wrapped yourself up and continued to get ready.

He thought you looked like an angel amongst sinners in your white dress as you danced up the street on the way to the bar. You spun around a lamppost as he took a photo of you and put it in his jeans pocket. You pulled him down a side road to the bar your dad told you about when you spoke to him, he had also given you a strip club recommendation as well which made you laugh. The bar inside was filled with purple neon lights and “fire pits”. You walked over to the bar and looked at the cocktail menu which made Billy laugh because he didn't peg you as cocktail drinker. “What can I get you darling?” The barmaid smiled at Billy who instantly turned on the charm with her.

“What would you recommend doll?” He leaned on the bar smirking. You could feel something brewing in your stomach.

“I am personally a vodka drinker.” The barmaid giggled touching his arm.

“Then I'll have a vodka,” Billy smiled at her before turning back to you who was still looking at the menu.

“I'll have a screaming orgasm.” You said smiling at the barmaid trying to hide your irritation due to Billy's antics.

“If you wanted one of those all you had to do was ask princess.” Billy teased which made you hit him with the menu. You both got up and made your way to a booth with a fire pit waiting for the waitress to bring the drinks over to you. You admired your surroundings, it was just as garish inside as it is outside.

The night went on and you ended up with a tab of $40 worth of drinks at that bar. You grabbed Billy's hand as you left the bar and led him to the strip club. You awere both fuelled with alcohol and as you led him to the club you felt the ground under your feet become no more as he picked you up over his shoulder making you laugh loudly. You were also kicking him to get free as you wanted to be back on solid ground and not facing it.

The strip club was pink and fluffy with a stage in the middle of it with the bar surrounding it. There was a dancer all in leather dancing around a pole and booths against the wall, some with tables and poles coming out of them so the dancers could dance on them. Apart from the dancers you were the only girl there. The rest were men in suits leering at the dancers throwing their money in balls so it could reach the stage. You remembered you were going to give Billy half the money you bought out that night like you agreed, courtesy of your dad and handed it to him before you both ordered your drinks and made yourself comfortable in some seats next to each other. Almost instantly a blonde dancer came over to him and asked if he wanted a lap dance. He accepted and he looked like he was enjoying himself. You enjoyed the show in front of you until a black haired dancer walked over and asked if you wanted one. You nodded. She was beautiful, you weren't sure if you wanted to be her or be on her. After she had finished you offered to buy her a drink which she happily accepted. You found out her name was Sapphire and she had been dancing for six months at this club. You also found out she was studying psychology in California.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?” Sapphire asked sipping her drink nodding her head to Billy who was standing behind you talking to the blonde dancer.

“No,” you smiled as you took a sip from your drink. “We're just friends.”

“The way he's staring at you says otherwise,” Sapphire giggled as she looked like she had an idea come over. She asked the barmaid if she had a pen and grabbed your hand and wrote something on it.

“I finish at two.” She smiled as she finished the last of her drink and you looked behind you as she walked off and she started whispering something to the dancer who was talking to Billy and they both walked off. You looked at what she wrote on your hand and it was an address of a bar and the time “2:30am”. Billy walked over to you looking pretty pleased with himself. You finished your drinks and to find your way to the next bar.

The morning after you woke up trying to recall the events of the night before. You felt stirring next to you and you find Sapphire who's name was actually Jessica, the dancer who you found out was called Ana cuddling Sapphire and Billy asleep next to Ana. All of you were still wearing the clothes from the night before. You saw Polaroids scattered on the floor next to your bed and there was one of you in the bathroom of the bar making out with Jessica as you sat on the sink. You realise it was Ana who took this photo. You reached over everyone and grabbed a cigarette packet which were on Billy's side of the bed and lit up a cigarette. You saw another one of you dancing on a table in your lingerie which you don't remember. There was also one of you talking to Ana next to a fire which was at a rooftop bar titled“Feeling At Home and Limitless – 24/12/84” with a small “B” next to it. You let out a small chuckle at this. You felt a stir coming from Billy's side of the bed as he sat up and lit up a cigarette himself.

“Merry Christmas.” You giggled quietly so you didn't wake up the other girls.

“Merry Christmas.” He sighed as he exhaled the smoke smiling at you.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things 2 #ST2 #Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove x Reader #Stranger Things Fic #Billy Hargrove Fic #Billy Hargrove x You #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Reader

27 notes · View notes

slothgiirl · 4 years

Text

shadowplay part 12

It's dark by the time you arrive at the little cabin which is incredibly skewed towards glamping. There's trees flocking every side, and little fairy lights scattered around the porch.

The sight is enough to make a romantic out of anyone.

Miles wastes no time, running in, Zack on his heels, to throw himself into the first bedroom he likes, "I call the master!"

"Like hell your getting it," Zack yells, tackling Miles.

"Should we tell them they're sharing a room," Breana asks, pouting as she takes a selfie in front of the doorway, tilting her head just right.

Matt snorts, placing an arm around his girlfriend, and throwing the laziest peace sign up in her photos, "Let them have their fun." He smiles down at Breana with a fondness that speaks of years and years of being together.

"I'm guessing you already know which room you want," you ask Breana whose clearly in charge here which doesn't surprise you at all. Alex doesn't own any pans at his flat and you highly doubt that Miles is any better. There's some hope that Zack isn't completely useless on his own, but then again, he's a single man in the music business. It's not a overly large hope.

You knew enough rich men from work to know that they're usually helpless even if they're helpless in 10,000 pound suits.

It evened out.

"No," Breana says sweetly, having only eyes for Matt. "You take whichever room you want."

"I don't really care," you reply taking in the tastefully decorated living room. You run your hand over the sofa, noting the acrylic fabric, not yet matted down. Probably some Ikea adjacent sofa. It no longer cost an arm and a leg to have nice things, though the vintage technique would undoubtedly last longer. You'd been to many country estates, on last minitue alterations to know that. Hundred year old linens still in perfect forms.

Estate sales were your best friend.

"Well if you're sure," Breana replies, leveling her gaze with yours, "I'll take-," "We'll," Matts corrects.

"We'll," Breana smiles, looking at Matt with the biggest smile on her face, "take the room with the patio."

"For the gram," you grin.

"Gotta keep up with the algorithm." She'd already told you about her clothing brand, which was just another line of basics that you didn't really think anyone needed. Uniqlo was enough. And she'd shown you her instagram which was exactly what you imagined it too be, bright light californian influencer aesthetic, clearly influenced by minimalism which photographed very well.

"Does that mean I should post more often than every couple of months," you tease, meeting Alex's heavy gaze, as he leans against a wall, boots still on. You could never wear shoes indoor, but you suppose it isn't your place so it doesn't matter. Your floral embroidered bag in his hand, along with his own bags.

"Yes! We should work on your instagram while we're here," Breana offers, "there's so many cute pictures we could take."

Matt chuckles, "later."

"Later," she repeats, all heart eyed.

You tilt your head, watching them. She was easily out of his league. And yet, here she was, actually in love with Matt, who you still couldn't puzzle out. If she was your girlfriend, you'd have pulled over at all her cute and dumb points of interest along the road. It was a road trip after all. A road trip with his girlfriend and friends, not just the lads.

Alex tilts his head, motioning down the hallway. You can here Zack and Miles in some room fighting over what song to blast through the speakers, Miles upselling the virtues of some obscure 70s band.

You follow Alex, half walking, half sliding along the wooden floor, artificial pine smell still in the air from when it had last been cleaned. The yeezy socks had been a gag gift from Sam for last christmas. "Isn't Arielle's wedding next month," you ask Alex, still thinking of the strung up fairy lights.

"Why," he asks, opening the closed room.

You switch the lights on, taking a second to play with the sliding switch. Definitely something you wanted when you finally bought a house. You'd finally made the appointment with a realtor for the week that you returned. You'd dragged your feet long enough. A thirty minute commute to work wasn't bad if you got a little garden out of it. A place to drink tea.

"I was just thinking that she'd for sure have fairy lights. A pinterest wedding," you bit your lips, "you think pinterest sponsers influencers."

"How'd you figure she'd an influencer," Alex asks instead, putting the bags down and finally kicking his boots off as he sits down on the bed.

You close the door, locking it for once because you didn't fancy Miles bursting in if you wanted to change. He was definitely shameless enough to not care, acting without thinking, without meaning any harm. "She had that effort effortless look," you shrug, "its basically a job to look that effortless."

Alex laughs, " 's true. But I don't really want to talk about her."

"Sorry."

"No," he says, leaning back on his hands, watching as you change into a pajama set. You'd have blushed if you hadn't changed in front of him loads of times before. Your mothers solution to body image issues, being a therapist and all, was to make you stand in front a a mirror and repeat 'I'm beautiful' before going to school every day. It had been stupid then, but clearly had worked. You didn't even mind the belly rolls you got when leaning over to pull your shorts on. "I just don't want to bother with the past anymore."

You nod, smiling over at him, "good to hear you move on."

Alex smiles back, red creeping up his cheeks. "I 'fink I've moved on a while ago actually. . .just crept up on me."

"That’s good," you tell him, looking down at the floor, wood like the rest of the cabin which was closer to a chateau. Rich people honestly. You try to shove down the hope ballooning in your chest at his words, as if you'd have any chance. His friends are here. And-you stop your train of thoughts right there, unwilling to go further like a coward. "Guess you can go out and be a proper rock star instead of being a sap at my flat."

"Oh," Alex grins with a smirk that's so fitting with his sleeked back hair and the 50s greaser aesthetic he was so fond of, "Don't lie, you like having me over."

"I like getting free take out," you counter with a grin of your own, laying down on the bed next to him. "And you do have great taste in music, but don't let it go to your head."

"Too late. My ego's the size of the hollywood sign."

You laugh, looking up at him. You really were glad you'd decided to come. "Is your horde of gel the mountain the signs on?"

"Never can win with you can I," Alex smiles, looking down at you, his eyes twinkling in the soft light, dark like a glass of top shelf scotch. Your heart fluttered in your chest, you couldn't maintain eye contact when he looked at you like that, your thoughts surging wildly, sending your pulse racing. It had been happening a lot more lately.

You liked him.

Too much.

You couldn't help it. It was Alex. He was easy to like, easy to let into your life until you couldn't imagine your life without him there, smiling like a dork despite trying to look like John Travolta in Grease, carting a record player to your flat because music just wasn't the same without the scratches in old vinyl records. "Your words not mine." You swallow thickly.

Alex strokes the side of your face gently, his touch setting your skin aflame, leaving you breathless. There's-there's no excuse. No friends to pretend for. No movie playing to cut the tension. You want desperately to pull away before your feelings are crushed. But you can't his gaze resting so earnestly on you, pinning you to the bed.

"Can we talk," he finally utters, in that serious stilted way, as if Alex can only approach words from the side, never head on, never as comfortable as he was in writing.

"Sure."

A knock on the door.

Loud.

Harsh.

Jolts you out of whatever trance you'd been in, letting you release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, letting you look away from Alex. Zacks voice calls out from the hall, "we're going to order food!"

You force your voice to stay stead, unwilling to betray the rush of emotions coursing through you, blood rushing in your veins. Chest full of butterflies as you answer, "don't tease me like that Zack, just let me know when the foods here." You should've used this as an out. But-it's Alex. That's the whole problem. You care for him, as a friend, as more.

You'd never just leave him because you're feeling like being a coward.

"Okay," Zack laughs, "just don't blame me if you hate everything we order."

"I'm sure the spiciest thing you've ever had was salt and pepper," you call back.

You listen to his steps disappear down the hall, eyes trained on the door. Heart beating like a sewing machine making it's way down the line of an inseam. You can't think, all flustered like this.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to Alex.

He takes your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks, his touch hot on your skin, his entire body leaning towards you the way sunflowers turn to face the sun, soaking in their rays. You're breathless.

There's no wavier in his voice as Alex says, "I really like you. I think I might actually be in love with ya if I'm being honest. But right now, I just really wanna fuck you."

Cheeks burning red, you can't-your voice stops working. Brain short circuiting as you look at Alex. Desire pooling in your belly. You're a horny uni student all over again. Not trusting yourself to speak. His body hovering above yours, caging you against the bed. You want nothing more than to reach out and bring him flush against your body.

You don't trust yourself to speak.

When you don't respond, Alex, jaw clenching, adds, "if ya don't feel the same way just tell me tah fuck right off. But I can't-I can't lie next to yah and pretend it don't mean a thing to me."

"What a coincidence," you finally manage, smiling softly up at him, so close you could just reach up and kiss him, "I like you a lot as well." It's in the top ten dumbest things you've ever said in your life. And the most english thing, to keep a stiff upper lip when you're literally laying under the man you haven't been able to stop thinking about.

"That's good," Alex notes, raising a brow. The little eager school boyish expression on his face making you giggle.

He shuts you up promptly, smothering your laugh with a deep kiss, so unlike all the other times he's kissed you. None of the hovering and hesitance, none of the stiffness in your body, as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing his body against yours, savoring the feel of him. His toned muscles shifting as he shifts against you.

It's hot and heavy, with a bruising intensity as Alex kisses you. You match him with the same passion, with all the pent up months of tension, of finally getting to show him how much you like him, how you've been thinking of him for weeks now. There's still sugar on his lips from the bubble tea you'd made him try, his tongue exploring your mouth as you moan into the kiss, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Alex's chest against yours.

His hand winding its way into your hair, keeping it out of your face as you kiss him. As you loose yourself in Alex. The entire world shrinking until it's just the two of you. And nothing else matters. His other hand running down your side. Fingertips brushing over the exposed skin above the waistband of your shorts, before shoving the fabric aside, his hand griping your side.

You kiss his lips, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, leaving you both gasping for air. Eyes glazed over, raging wildly with want.

"I'm gonna fuck you love," Alex, whispers planting kisses down your neck, his fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt. "Show ya how crazy you've been driving me."

You nod, shakily, your gaze never leaving his, as your shirt falls back onto your shoulders, falls open.

Sam had been spot on, making you pack the nice parisian undergarments that had been at the back of your drawer abandoned. You'll have to buy her something really nice before you get back to the old smoke.

Alex pulls his own shirt off.

He shakes his head, smirking, "but you've got to say it love. Can't be the only one baring my soul here."

"You're baring more than your soul Alex," you tease, despite the hitch in your voice, revealing just how worked up you were feeling. But you indulge him, because you really want him. Your skin burning in anticipation of what comes next. "But right now I'm more interested in you fucking me."

Alex laughs, but there's no hiding the hoarseness in his voice.

Then sits up on his legs, trailing kisses down your chest, down you belly as he works your shorts down your legs, you tilting your hips up so he can leave you bare, taking your nice lingere along with the shorts. It was a shame too. They really were nice, lacy and racy, worth the trouble of wearing.

Your toes curl as Alex kisses the crook of your leg, your breath hitching as he prices open your legs, an easy move when you were all too willing to let him go down on you.

Alex presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his hand grasping the skin, all the while his other hand, his fingers brushed over your clit, dipping into your folds, into the wetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a whimper escaping from your lips. "I wanna hear you love," Alex whispers against your skin, mouth moving teasingly close to your center. "Let me hear you."

You can't stifle the cry as he runs his tongue through your folds, maddeningly slow, before sucking on your clit long enough for your brain to short circuit. He doesn't let up, flicking his tongue against you, your breathe short as you whimper at his ministrations. His fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at the covers, bunching them up in your palms.

Alex sucks at your clit, his hand brushing against your folds, before slipping a finger into your core, curling inside you.

You're on fire, skin hot. Eyes squeezed shut as you're overwhelmed with sensations, Alex's mouth against your center, breath tickling the skin, driving you crazier. The same mouth you'd kissed only moments ago.

He adds another finger, pumping his hand against your core, eliciting more whimpers and moans from your lips. The wetness in your core growing. The heat in your lower belly growing.

You can't take it. "Alex," you whimper. Bitting your lower lip. There's no way you'll last longer than a couple of seconds. All edged out.

"Come for me," he utters, as choked up as you feel, his fingers buried inside you as he shifts, pressing his lips against your collar bone, nipping the the skin. You let go, coming against his hand, and the feel of his skin against yours.

You're consumed by bliss. Left gasping for breath.

Boneless as Alex gets up, unbuttoning his tight dark jeans, but not before rifling through his wallet for a condom.

You can't be bothered to pay him much attention.

Knocks ring out against the door, loud and insistent. Knocks like light taps that don't stop, a fly in your ear.

Miles.

And sure enough, "foods here! Al and Als much better looking bird," he jokes stretching bird as long as the sounds will let him.

You prop yourself up on an elbow, wreaking your brain for a response as Alex freezes, clad in a pair of boxers, condom in hand. Utterly useless.

"Matt won't leave us any if we dally," Miles adds, laughter clear in his tone.

"Actually," you try, not sounding nearly as disheveled as you feel, as you are, "I think the jet lags caught up to me."

"Oh is it like that is it," Miles calls back, voice full of glee, "well let me know if yah need me. Three is a part-eh after all," he crackles.

You let out a breath in relief, glad to be left alone. Again.

Really you should've just stayed in LA. Or London.

You could've done this in either place, uninterrupted.

"Just focus on me love," Alex cuts in, make short work of getting your shirt the rest of the way off, kissing the corner of your mouth, knowing how easily you could get lost in your thoughts, like him.

All the easier to understand him.

He unhooks your bra, hands massaging your tits, the brush of his fingers hardening the peaks of your breasts, as he pressed his lips hard against yours. You eagerly kissed him back, softer than before, still ridiculously satisfied from before, your hands loose as they curled around his neck, letting him shift you both, letting him settle his weight between your legs, finally full naked. His hips hard against yours.

Your lips eager against his mouth, already yearning for another taste of him. Alex's hand threading through your hair, as he shifts, finding your core with his hard cock, entering you in one swift thrust.

You cry out into his mouth, you hand gripping his back. Your fingers finding their way into his hair. Soft despite the amount of product. Had to be expensive.

You hold him against you, loving finally having him the way you've refused to admit to yourself that you wanted. You've been wanting Alex for weeks now. All the parts of of. The man who got pissed drunk at a pub, the man who'd bring you take out and fold your blankets, the man who kissed you.

He breaks the kiss, nuzzling his lips against the crook of your neck, inbetween moans, your name on his tongue, as he thrusts deeply into you, filling you up to the brim, as you clench around him. "Yah feel so good love," he groans, heady with passion.

Alex's pace relentless, all pent up want, the frustration of spending nights curled up with you on settees and beds, never being able to do more than look.

He fucks you, his teeth nipping the delicate skin at the base of your throat.

You gasp for breath, moaning his name like a prayer on your lips, wondering how the bloody hell you had ended up here. How lucky you were to have ended up here.

His hips against yours, his body flush against your's as his thrusts become erratic.

Your fingers digging into the skin of his back, as he comes against you. You’re exhausted. Spent. A day traveling by plane. A drive that lasted the entire day, and now this. You-you're not sure where this leaves you, where you go from here. This isn't exactly a standard way of-this isn't friends to more or strangers hitting it off, but you don't care. You'll figure it out, along with Alex.

Alex who slumps over on his side, lying next to you, looking completely fucked.

"I ruined your hair," you smile, completely out of it yourself, unable to summon any bite.

Alex laughs, unabashedly, his entire demeanor taking on a boyish air, "for once I don't give a damn."

"Are you going to go get food," you ask, rolling over so you can rest your head on his chest.

"Don't particularly want to move. Debating getting up for a smoke though."

"Cool," you reply, letting your lids slid shut, "I'm going to go to sleep then."

"I take it ya not hungry," Alex smirks.

"There's always Mcdonald's. At 3 am."

#Shadowplay #Alex Turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #smut

24 notes · View notes

inkedtae · 4 years

Text

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M] | teaser

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculputor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ full: 20k | teaser; 1.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mention of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to cheat on her date), mention and consumption of alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, [redacted] [redacted]!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), clay/paint/art sex(?), rough sex, hate-love sex(?), [redacted] sex (?), [redacted] kink, [redacted] (f. receiving), multiple [redacted] (f.), [redacted], overstimulation, a lil [redacted]-[redacted]ing, [redacted] worshipping, [redacted] worshipping, a lil [redacted] biting, [redacted]ing, [redacted]ing, [redacted]ing, begging, teasing, swearing

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i decided to share an unedited teaser of what i’m currently working on

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ anticipated post date ⇾ 15 AUGUST 2020

☾ le playlist (coming soon...)

☾ tag list ⇾ open (leave a comment and/or send an ask to be added)

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

But, when he does call, and you do not refuse. You don’t even think about declining at all. And then you hear his voice, and he sounds so unsure, so nervous.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering now, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the broken pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal made you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only shudders your courage. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second and his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rose in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a kind smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things on his work table, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

He must feel your gaze as he glances up at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Glancing down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, with the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, you cannot hold yourself back. He cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, planned his party. It is not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgust and remorse.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#btswritingcafe #bangtanfairygarden #btsguild #vantenet #networkbangtan #btsgoldnet #bangtanhq #winterbearnet #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung smut #bts smut

196 notes · View notes

orangenfrottee · 4 years

Text

hastag game! get to know me

tagged by the amazing: @thugheadjones (I was so happy to get tagged but too lazy to copy&paste the questions on my phone. Oops.)

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? it’s... light wood.

2. name a food you never eat- I eat vegan, so there are a few things i don’t. In a more colloqial sense... I very rarely ‘never’ eat fruits. I’m really bad about it, unless someone cuts up something for me, I probably won’t eat any for .... months. It’s really weird.

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? I’m always too cold! (Unless it’s the middle of one of those record breaking heat waves we had nearly every summer for the last decade. Manmade global heating won’t directly kill me due to location, but I will be pissed off every day. We really have to save our climate.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? Procrastinating while not quite following my online class.

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? I like Mamba, okay? (Okay, that’s actually not really a bar in the classical expectation of this question, but... then again it’s even more of a bar and actually candy. I must admit, I still eat candy but the older I get the less satisfying it gets? I really like these coconut bars without mch else most drug store organic brands sell. And Mr. Tom saved me from certain famine a couple of times during trips.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? The most professional sport event I ever went to was a regional (or maybe even national?) Kendo youth competition. I never ever went to a game, professional or not.

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? Probably something muttered under my breath along the lines of “could you return to the previous page”? I have so many unfinished lines in my class notes, because our professor really goes a little too fast without seeing any reaction from her students. (It’s fine though, she always gives us a copy of her notes, but yeah... I need to go through everything again anyway)

8. what is your favorite ice cream? The vegan icecream from Lidl is really amazing. There’s one with cookies and peanuts and something, it’s the best, really. I keep telling my mother about it.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? black tea (with white chocolat syrup)

10. do you like your wallet? Yes? It’s this huge shock pink one I bought in harajuku eight years ago. My japanese bestie had one in lime green at the time, so it always kinda brings me back to her? (I really wanted an orange one though.)

11. what is the last thing you ate? A third of a banana. Yes. You know what an event that is in my life. I’m proud of myself. (It totally was the left over bit from my mum’s breakfast who also had a whole pear on top of it. I don’t know why I don’t eat fruit.)

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Haha, no.

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? probably that kendo competition 14 years ago. My mother really enjoys sports, so I definitely sat through some olympic/ football world cup/ athletics streams reading fanfiction

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Salty.

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? A friend in Japan

16. ever been camping? No, we did a lot of sleeping in our tents in the back yard though - and wait, there is a repressed memory of a horrible camping trip on a forced father’s weekend. Been there, done that, yeah.

17. do you take vitamins? Yes. B12 because I’m vegan and D since I had a terrible deficit a few months ago.

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? No. I’s like to make a bathtub joke, but I don’t even have a great hair washing routine.

19. do you have a tan? No, not even the year I only wore hot pants all summer (though I was the tannest I’ll ever be that year). My snow white (!) bff came to visit and like half a day later she had an actual tan, so no.

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? Pizza. Mostly because that’s actually easy to get, now that I’m vegan. Can’t remeber when I had (good) Chinese.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? No, I’m not really a fan. I might one day buy reusable straws, but I don’t feel like I have use for them?

22. what color socks do you usually wear? Whatever socks I grab first? A lot are black or dark red with whatever pattern, I do have a lot of Sailor Moon themed ones though <3

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? I’m a great cyclist but I only own a dutch bike (in orange!) so, hell no. I’m fast though and good at breaking.

24. what terrifies you? I don’t have a go to answer for this, because I never think about it. That doesn’t mean no fears, but I’m not aware of any.

25. look to your left, what do you see? My comfy chair nd side table in front of my billy book shelves.

26. what chore do you hate most? Bathroom cleaning? Taking out the garbage? The weird ones you don’t have to do regularly, so you only notive their vague existince once tere’s a ton of work to do?

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Not anything? I don’t think I hear them often, not sure if I’d actually recognize one.

28. what’s your favorite soda? Ginger Ale.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I just go to my kitchen. I’m usually better at just whipping something up myself.

30. what’s your favorite number? I once wrote a really weird text in school about hating the number four and a table when we had this creative writing task about assigning emotions and meanings to an object that were actually about something else (our example was a staircase) and all my class mates were whining about how hard that was and as if there were only two or three objects in the world one could use for that (staircases, doors, maybe a phone) when there are random things we can easily projects any emotion on. By the way, have you ever wondered about how men can get into the weirdest tangents when prompted with the simolest question? Suddenly they tell you the greatest stories about how amazing they are. What is that disorder named? Anyway, my favourite number might be seven - I’ll always be a Nana fan.

31. who’s the last person you talked to? my mother

32. favorite meat? tofu <3

33. last song you listened to? No. idea. Now it’s Lonely in Gorgeous by Tommy february6

34. last book you read? I’ve been reading City of Ashes for the last few months.

35. favorite day of the week? saturday

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? No.

37. how do you like your coffee? Non-existing.

38. favorite pair of shoes? My orange ones.

39. time you normally get up? I don’t.

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? moonlight

41. how many blankets are on your bed? Thechnically five, but two are just resting over the headboard.

42. describe your kitchen plates? I’ve got really pretty white ones with dark red hearts on them. Friends of mine got them for me for my 18th birthday. Be smart and wish for useful stuff kids.

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: older than me but really pretty and freshly renovated. We threw out the old frifge that wasn’t working for 12 years and gotten some selfmade open shelving in its place. White painted cupboards, green walls, super modern ikea shelves, free standing eggshell coloured fridge, inherited table and chairs, new wood optic vinyl floor. It’s not actually my kitchen.

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? No, I don’t drink.

45. do you play cards? seldom, but if so Rommee with the rules my great-grandmother taught me.

46. what color is your car? My bike is shiny happy orange.

47. can you change a tire? probably, but I was 9 when I last had to help.

48. your favorite state or province? of what? Liquid.

49. favorite job you’ve had? For about a year I worked (volunteered) for my japanese bestie’s cafe and was just so well taken care of <3

I tag, if you’d like, @catthecoder, @strangenightsofdaydreams and YOU dear reader <3

#tag game

3 notes · View notes

victoria-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Skylark - Chapter Four

Chapter Three

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: So I’ve been noticing this story slightly gaining traction and I’m eternally grateful for that. Sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Pairings: Collins X OC

The Tuesday date that Alice and Jack had planned led into several more dates between the two of them. For Alice, this came as a shock, that fateful night at the Garden Rouge should have been a one off thing. She didn't expect to see Jack again, let alone for him to show up at her other job two days later. Meeting Jack was a like breath of fresh air for Alice, he was like a hammer shattering the monotonous everyday life.

Alice flicked on a couple of lights and looked around her home. The flat was of an average size, not too small but neither too big. It was one bedroom with an en-suite bathroom which was down the hall. Her living room, where Jack and Alice were currently standing in was connected to the kitchen.

The living room felt warm and cozy, more lived-in as Alice once said when she finished furnishing her flat. Art lined the walls that she bought from the markets there was a bookshelf filled with novels and a cabinet that stored all her vinyl records and had her record player and radio on top. A small coffee table was placed in front of a sofa. The dining area was near the entrance of the kitchen, consisting of a small, round table with two chairs pushed in under it.

"Pinch me I must be dreamin'," Jack began, a smile quirking up on his lips. "Alice Lloyd finally let me into her flat," he finished, his tone teasing.

"Oh hush," she lightly scolded, hitting him on his arm. "I can't just let anyone into my flat," she said, walking into her kitchen.

Jack grinned at her before walking over to the mantelpiece and examined the handful of photos displayed there. He pointed at a picture of a older woman and older man who both wore warm smiles on their faces. Although it was hard to tell due to the black and white photograph, the woman was a shade darker than the man she was standing next to. She had a round shape with her hair pulled back into a bun. The man next to her was tall and slim, but had a slight muscular build. His hair was side parted and wore pair of round glasses.

"Yer mum and dad?" he guessed.

"Yes, that's them," Alice answered, joining him in the living room with a glass water in hand. She smiled down at the photo and trailed a finger along the edge of the frame. "This was taken a few years ago, but I'd like a photo of them that's more current," she added.

Jack picked up a photo showing three children, two young boys and a teenage girl. The girl stood in the middle the boys with each hand on one of their shoulders, all of them were grinning. Their clothes showed that the picture must have been at least a decade old.

"Who is this?"

Alice tried to snatch the frame out of hands, "Hey! Give me that!"

Jack laughed and held tight to the frame. He peered at the photo.

"Is that ye in the middle?"

Alice nodded, "Yes that's me and my two little brothers,"

"You look happy," Jack commented.

She smiled, "We were, still are," she confirmed, before taking the photo from him and brushed a little dust from the frame, then settled it back carefully on the mantelpiece. Alice grabbed Jack's hand and led him to her sofa and the two of them sat down. She placed her cup down onto the coffee table in front of them. "Did you still want to go out for dinner?" she asked, curling her legs underneath her.

"I would love te, that's if ye not te tired, ye did just get back from work," he answered, running his hand up and down her leg.

"I'm never too tired for you," Alice smiled, lightly hitting his leg and standing up from the sofa.

Jack mirrored her expression and pushed himself off the sofa and followed behind to the front door. He grabbed her jacket from the coat rack next to the door and held it out for her. Alice slid it on, digging into her pocket for her house keys she grabbed them and opened the door, but not before grabbing her purse.

"What do you have an appetite for?" Alice asked, as Jack stepped out.

"Hmm, I don't know," he answered, watching Alice close her front door behind her.

"Well, there's this spot in Soho that serves Chinese food that Mary told me about," Alice suggested, as she locked the door.

Jack placed a hand on her lower back, "Feeling adventurous are we?" he joked, as she moved away from the door.

She wrapped her arm around Jack, "I thought we should switch it up," Alice chuckled, looking up at Jack. "What's the harm...Mum!" she began, but cut herself off from finishing the rest of her sentence due to the woman in front of her. "W-What are you doing here?" she asked, snatching her arm from Jack.

Alice' mum shifted her gaze from her daughter to the man next to her, "I wanted to ask you to come to dinner at the house," her mum said, with a thick Jamaican accent.

"You couldn't have called?" she questioned, with a hint of disbelief as Jack discreetly removed his hand from her.

"Is it a crime to see my daughter?" she asked back, arching a brow. "And who's this?" she inquired, focusing her attention back to Jack.

"This is uh..." Alice began.

"Jack Collins ma'am," he finished with a smile, stepping forward and extending his hand out.

She took his hand and shook it, "How do you do Mr. Collins? I'm Mrs. Lloyd," she greeted, returning his smile. Jack's smile widened making his dimples prominent. "So Mr. Collins, how do you know my daughter?" Mrs. Lloyd asked curiously, clasping her hands together.

"Alice and I are-"

"Friends!" Alice cut in, letting out a nervous laugh. "We're friends," she repeated, with a nod.

Mrs. Lloyd quirked an eyebrow, "Well Alice, you and your friend are more than welcome to come the house for dinner," she stated.

"But we-" Alice began.

"I won't take no for answer dear," Mrs. Lloyd interjected. "You already skipped out on a family dinner already," she reminded.

Alice exhaled deeply, "Fine," she conceded.

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Lloyd cheered. "The three of us can catch a bus to Brixton,"

"We'll be right behind you Mum," Alice said, and watched her mother walk away and out the building, the slamming of the door echoing in the hall.

"I'm just yer friend?" Jack asked, disbelief written all over his face.

Alice spun around and faced him, "Oh Jack, I'm sorry," she apologized, grabbing both of his hands. "You mean much more than that to me, it's just that I know Mum would not approve of our relationship," she explained, shaking her head.

"And why not?"

"Because your white," Alice replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You can't possibly-"

"Yes I think that, because I know my mother," Alice said, cutting him off and let out a sigh. "Listen, I will make this up to you Jack, but first we have to get through this dinner with Mum," she finished, and standing on her tip toes she pressed a soft kiss to Jack's lips.

The bus ride to Brixton felt like an eternity for Alice as she sat stiffly next to her mother. In reality, the bus ride that seemed it would never end was only an hour really. But with the painstakingly awkward fifteen minute walk from the bus stop to the house Alice believed that everything was moving at a snail's pace at that point. As soon as Alice entered the foyer of her childhood home two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around her waist.

"Alice!"

A smile formed on Alice's lips at the embrace of her twin younger brothers Wesley and Thomas, it was the first smile she cracked since encountering her mother in the hallway of her flat.

"And how are you two?" she asked, grinning down at the two boys. "You're not giving Mum any trouble are you?" she questioned, a knowing look on her face.

Thomas shook his head, "No, we've been the perfect angels," Thomas stated, glancing over at his brother.

"He's right," Wesley confirmed, nodding his head.

"Boys, we have a guest," Mrs. Lloyd announced, as her sons released Alice from their embrace. "This is Mr. Collins, he'll be joining us for dinner," she introduced, Jack flashed them a friendly smile and gave a little wave to the boys. "I want the two of you to keep Mr. Collins company while your sister and I set the table," Mrs. Lloyd informed, Wesley and Thomas nodded their heads in understanding.

"Right this way Mr. Collins, we can stay in the den," Thomas stated, pointing towards the room down the hall.

"Thank you," Jack smiled, as he shrugged off his coat and placed it on the coat rack. "And please call me Jack," he added, following behind the two boys not before shooting Alice a glance over his shoulder.

"Are you Scottish Jack?" Thomas asked, his voice slightly fading away.

"Indeed I am," Jack replied.

Alice and Mrs. Lloyd both removed their coats before making their way to the kitchen. As soon as Alice stepped into the kitchen her nose picked up the mouth watering smell of curry chicken.

"You made curry chicken for dinner," Alice noted, going to open the kitchen window due to the hot, humid air and the smell was strong with curry.

"And rice and peas," Mrs. Lloyd added, putting on an apron and tying it around her waist. "So Alice, when were you going to tell me?" she questioned, turning the stove top on and grabbing a wooden spoon to stir the curry chicken which was in a metal pot.

"Tell you about?" Alice asked back, playing dumb as she grabbed plates from the cabinet.

"About your friend, Mr. Collins,"

Alice placed one plate down after another, "When did you become so invested in my social circle?" she inquired, looking over towards her mother.

"Since you decided to gallivant with a white man,"

"I think you're overreacting Mum, I do have friends that are white," Alice reminded, now grabbing the utensils.

"They're women," Mrs. Lloyd shot back, glancing at her.

Behind her mother's back Alice rolled her eyes, as she placed the utensils down onto the table.

"Will Dad be joining for us?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Unfortunately not, another late night at work I'm afraid," she answered, now filling each plate with food. "And don't think I didn't notice that you were trying change subjects Alice dear,"

Mrs. Lloyd put a decent amount of rice onto each plates in a circular pattern, leaving an open space in the middle. Next, she poured the curry chicken with potatoes into the middle of every plate, hot steam emanating from the yellow curry.

"Alice, men like Mr. Collins are not to be trusted," Mrs. Lloyd warned.

"You barely even know him mum," Alice argued, keeping her voice low. "He's been nothing but a gentlemen to me," she added, sticking her arm out.

"If a white man takes interest in a colored woman just know his intentions are never pure," Mrs. Lloyd stated, her back still turned to Alice. "They just want to sleep with us and toss us aside afterwards before they brag about it to their friends," she finished.

"Jack isn't like that Mum," Alice sighed, shaking her head. She walked to the entrance of the kitchen and stuck her head out. "Boys, go wash up. Dinner is ready," Alice announced, before turning around. "And please show Jack where the bathroom is," she added loudly, as she set down glasses filled with water onto the table.

Mrs. Lloyd walked over to the kitchen table with two plates of steaming food and placed them down where Wesley and Thomas would be sitting. Alice followed behind her mother and set down another two plates across from her brothers. Just as Mrs. Lloyd grabbed her plate the sound of quick footsteps bounded from the hallway. Thomas and Wesley burst into the kitchen breathless with grins on their faces.

"Mum!" Wesley shouted, excitement all over his face. "Jack's a pilot! He's in the Royal Air Force!" he exclaimed.

"He flies spitfires!" Thomas added, sharing his brother excitement.

Mrs. Lloyd craned her neck in Alice's direction, "Is he now?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

Before Mrs. Lloyd could say anything Jack entered into the kitchen, unaware of the tension that was building between Alice and her mother.

"It smells wonderful in here," Jack complimented, his trademark smile on his face.

"It does so let's eat," Alice agreed, trying to hurry along this dinner as fast as she could.

Everyone took their seat, Mrs. Lloyd was seated at the foot of table, Thomas and Wesley sat on the side of the table, while Jack and Alice sat next to each other across from her brothers much and Alice noticed the look of displeasure on her mother's face. A prayer of grace was said before everyone could eat and it was led by Mrs. Lloyd. When the prayer Alice grabbed her fork and jabbed it into the curry covered chicken, raising it to her mouth.

"So Mr. Collins, my boys tell me you're a RAF pilot," Mrs. Lloyd stated, after taking a bite of her potato.

"That's correct," he smiled. "I joined as soon as the war broke out," he informed

"Jack told us he's on leave here in London," Thomas stated. "But if I was pilot I would never take leave, my head would stay in the clouds," he grinned.

Alice glanced over to Jack and noticed his smile faltered slightly, she knew Thomas meant well, but at the end of the day he was still a boy. He didn't understand the horrors of war and what they could do to a man's spirit and mind. Subtly, Alice reached over to Jack, placing her hand over his and giving a squeeze.

"How long are you here for Mr. Collins?" Mrs. Lloyd inquired.

"Only for a few months," Jack answered, before taking another bite of his food.

"And I take it because of your leave this is how yours and Alice's paths crossed," Mrs. Lloyd guessed, before sipping from her glass.

"Yes, I met her at her job," he nodded, a smile on his face as he briefly looked at Alice.

"Which one?"

"Mum," Alice called, exasperation laced in her tone.

"The bookshop," Jack lied, and Alice was internally grateful that he could read the room.

"Mmm," Mrs. Lloyd hummed, ignoring her daughter.

"Have you heard Alice sing?" Wesley questioned. "She's amazing she could be the next Billie Holiday!" he beamed, looking at his older sister adoringly.

"Or Josephine Baker," Thomas chirped.

"Mr. Collins, I know when soldiers go on leave they want to have all types fun while they're here," Mrs. Lloyd stated, looking at Jack.

"Yes, I suppose so," Jack agreed, with a slightly confused expression on his face.

Alice observed Jack's expression and looked over to her mother, starting to wonder where she was going with this.

"And I'm sure you want all types of fun with my daughter before you have to go back, isn't that right?" she finished, shooting Jack a knowing look and Jack's face turned slightly red.

Alice threw her napkin down, "Mum!" she hissed, standing up quickly. Her chair screeched along the kitchen floor. "You think you're protecting me, but your not! You're hurting me!"

Alice stormed out of the kitchen and made her way into the foyer, snatching her coat from the rack. Too angry to put her coat on, she threw it over her arm and just as went to grab her purse a pale hand grabbed it for her. Alice looked up at Jack with tears brimming in her eyes.

"I would like to go back to my flat now," Alice stated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll be more than happy te take ye there," Jack responded, brushing a tear from her face.

#collins dunkirk #collins x oc #black fanfiction #black oc #dunkirk imagine #black!female character #black!oc #black original character #dunkirk fanfiction

15 notes · View notes