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cuquitalocita · 3 years

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the hot girl from physics class- rowaelin

AN: okay this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and i just found it again. this is literally just self indulgent bickering with absolutely not plot in mind. also my first time writing rowaelin because i had no desire to butcher them so... anyway here’s to first tries and i hope you all enjoy!

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Rowan’s mouth tasted of metal. Or maybe it was blood.

The second thing that hit him was the inability to breathe through his mouth as he attempted to swallow a mouthful of nonexistent air. The motion sent his eyes shooting open, immediately registering that while his mouth was covered, his nose was not, and he managed a large inhale of hot air before exploding into a rage of rough coughs that left him breathless and once again on the verge of blacking out. Rowan thrashed in what seemed to be a chair, quickly realizing that both his arms and legs were bound tighter than he thought possible, and no amount of lacrosse training could prepare him for the fatigue he felt at that moment. The dark spots in his vision didn’t seem to help either and his sweat shone skin seemed to melt in on itself as he took a few more breaths through his nose, slower this time until he was somewhat steady.

It was only then he felt stable enough to figure out what the hell had happened. The last thing he remembered was excusing himself to go to the bathroom before the bus was supposed to take off. He had been walking down the empty hallway one moment and the last thing he could recall was the strange sensation of being as light as a feather before darkness overtook him. And now he was here. And… where was here exactly?

A sort of warehouse it seemed, with tall metal walls and a lofted ceiling, freezing regardless of the fact that it was barely fall meaning it was most likely abandoned. Night shone through the glass windows he identified to his right and left and across from him sat-

“CELEANA?” Rowan attempted to scream out, his cloth-filled mouth muffling the sound to almost nothing. But he was right, and his vision refused to fail him as his eyes widened at the hot girl from physics class who now sat across from him in a much more comfortable looking chair than his hard wooden one, sporting casual leggings, a stained t-shirt, an insanely messy bun, and the smuggest expression he had ever seen. Strands of golden hair sprang out every which way and Rowan was hit with the inherent desire to smooth it out himself. His heart did terrified somersaults as he took in her (clearly) laid back posture and bored eyes and he stiffened as Celeana pulled up one of her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around it, one of her hands clutching a small book. It was only then he noticed the highlighter sticking out from between her teeth. If he wasn’t gagged, he would’ve been gaping. She was studying.

“Well look who’s awake,” she mused, her voice somehow sounding deeper than it had before. Rowan couldn’t deny how smooth it sounded and how naturally it suited her. “Hey, sleeping beauty.” There was no mistaking the smirk that curled onto her lips and the sparkle in her unique turquoise eyes as she gazed at him, her look solely calculating as she took him in from head to toe, zeroing in on something close to his head.

The tip of the gun was colder than he imagined it would be, the hard metal sending a shock through his entire body and forcing a scream out of his mouth, damning the gag. The sound was just as muffled as he thought it would be, barely loud enough to alert anyone within a four-foot radius to his whereabouts. Still, he didn’t relent. He screamed with everything. He screamed with his anger, he screamed with his disgust, he screamed with his confusion, and he even screamed with his sadness, the emotion he hadn’t felt since his mother had died.

When the blonde had waltzed into his physics class for the first time two weeks ago sporting a bright grin and gleaming eyes, Rown hadn’t known what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the charming and positively addictive person he ended up meeting. Elegant and beautiful Rowan had been unable to tear his eyes away from her, even as she deliberately placed herself in the seat next to him, shooting him a brilliant smile. Celeana had been wholly consuming, something Rowan was now kicking himself for, and the two had fallen into an easy conversation, him unable to hold up his usually angry exterior when it came to her. They had flirted- quite a lot, if he remembered correctly and despite his constant lacrosse practices, Rowan had even found himself agreeing to help her with her physics homework. It had only taken one word from her cursing Einstein and Rowan knew he was done for. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask her out yet- he had meant to do it after his game today. So what in hellas was he doing here?

Rowan screamed until his throat gave out, his wide eyes never faltering as he stared in what was pure shock at Celeana across from him, who seemed to be doing nothing but gazing at him, her eyes cold and calculating, a contrast to the small quirk at the corner of her lips. By the time his throat gave out and his eyes yearned to drop shut in exhaustion, Celeana had closed her book and tucked the highlighter on top of her ear. She wasn’t watching him anymore; instead, her gaze was fixed next to him, to the person who most certainly held the gun to his head. A gun which Celeana seemed entirely unfazed by. If anything, her eyes seemed to sparkle more and the other side of her mouth pulled up before she said,

“I win, pay up.” A shift in sound and the gun behind him before a much deeper and older voice spoke now.

“Actually Miss, you said less than thirty minutes. I said less than ten. And it seems it was…” the gun was momentarily lifted from his head as the older man checked something on his arm, allowing him a sharp exhale. “Seven minutes. Which means, I won.” The corner of Celeana’s mouth pulled down in a frown and she glared at the person behind him.

“Oh, you’re no fun Brullo,” she sighed. “Fine. I-” she was cut off as he commenced screaming again, louder this time after he had taken a lungful of air. Her eyes widened for a smidge of a second in surprised shock which quickly faded into her smirk again. When he finished screaming this time, it was because Celeana was looking him straight in the eyes, her gaze more powerful than should be possible for a girl her age. And it told him everything he needed to know: he wasn’t going anywhere. The sound fell from his voice and he glared fire at the girl across from him who only rolled her eyes when he attempted to open his mouth again. Her own fire blazed back at him.

“Oh my god, are you done?” she asked in exasperation, the smirk no longer on her face, just pure teenage annoyance as she looked back at him. He was at a loss for words as she put her book down on the ground next to her boots and looked back at him. “Okay,” she said as if he was a wounded puppy she didn’t know how to approach. She wasn’t afraid, just wary. “I’m gonna take the gag off now and please, for the love of the gods, please Ro, don’t even try to scream. With as much as I love your mouth, and believe me, I really do,” she gave him a wink and he let out a growl laced with disgust and ignoring the electricity in his blood at the look she gave him. “I have no interest in hearing you any more than I have to today. Got it?”

He said nothing, his glare unwavering as Celeana stood from her chair and approached him, the gun to his head tensing as if the bearer was more alert than he had been a moment ago. Rowan wondered exactly how he was supposed to even move when his arms and legs were bound and just to prove it he went still as Celeana leaned forward, her blue eyes suddenly level with his as she reached towards the back of his head and untied the intricate knot in a quick movement of her hands. He attempted not to inhale her intoxicating scent- jasmine and lemon verbatim. She was back in her seat before Rowan could register the air on his mouth and he gulped down a few breaths as he looked at her again, unsurprised to find she was looking at him as well. His heart did a relay in his chest as his green eyes met her blue ones and she arched a brow, smirking again.

“Like what you see?” His answering glare said enough until the silence was too much.

“Who are you?” he growled and Celeana laughed coldly, either at him or something else, he didn’t know. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Rowan tried not to focus on it.

“You know who I am,” was all she said.

“I thought you were Celeana but apparently I don’t know shit considering you kidnapped me and tied me to a chair.” His voice was ice as he snapped at her and Rowan enforced his point by shaking his arms and legs and wincing at the pain. Celeana’s gaze showed no sympathy or remorse for him and his heart sunk at the realization that he wasn’t surprised. He had no idea who this girl was, he realized. Celeana leaned back in her chair, her posture lazy once more, and began to mess with her nails. It was only then that Rowan realized they were dark red underneath and he swallowed, his gaze snapping up to Celeana’s. She followed his eyes with her own in a bemused way until realization struck her and her eyes widened.

“I- oh god, chill out, it’s just Taki dust,” she assured him, holding up a purple bag of spicy chips she pulled out from under the chair as evidence. She let out a huff of a laugh and shoved the open bag at him in a questioning gesture. She shoved one in her mouth before asking, “Want one?” Her voice was almost as muffled as his had been and he glared at her, his eyebrows shooting up to remind her of his arms and legs. “Fine,” she muttered. “Have it your way.” Celeana’s eyes shot up to the person behind Rowan as she dusted her fingers off and something flashed in her eyes before the light weight of the gun was removed from his temple. He exhaled.

“What do you want from me? My aunt will-”

“Spare me the family connections pretty boy, we’re not interested. I will say this, it isn’t personal.”

“Why the hell should I believe anything you said when everything you’ve said so far has been a lie?” he snapped, attempting to find some sort of ground.

“Well, that just isn’t true. I really do suck at physics, Ro,” she said smiling, pointing to the book at her feet. “Hawking is kicking my ass this year,” she grumbled and if she was anyone else he would have laughed.

“Don’t bullshit me, who the hell are you?” Her eyes sparkled at his defiance and he stiffened as the man who had been holding the gun to his head padded up next to Celeana. He was easily a foot and a half taller than her, making her look like nothing more than a tiny ant in comparison to him, and he had to be at least his aunt’s age. But the muscle that quivered beneath his leather jacket was enough of a difference for Rowan. Celeana’s grin grew.

“Are you gonna drop the ‘woe is me hero act’ any time soon? I’m just curious as to whether I should get some popcorn or not,” was all she replied.

“Pretty gutsy coming from a girl holding an innocent person against his will,” he snapped back. Faster than he could have thought possible Celeana’s playful expression had shriveled into cold hard menace, the look sending a spineful of shivers down his back and forcing his heart into his throat. Gone was the girl who enjoyed witty bantering. In her place was the monster he had painted her as from the moment he had opened his eyes. Rowan realized he should have taken laid-back Celeana when he had the chance because there was no doubt in his mind that the girl in front of him could and would end his life when given the chance.

Celeana’s posture stiffened and the hand that had been playing with her hair stilled as the man beside her placed a hand on her shoulder. Whether it was meant to be a warning or a comfort, Rowan didn’t know. Celeana’s face turned cold, her playful pretense officially vanishing.

She sneered and leaned forward on her elbows until they were almost nose to nose. Rowan refused to shrink back as much as he wanted to. The feeling coursing through his veins was unfamiliar to him: fear. “You know something, prince?” she asked. Her smirk was purely feral. “I don’t like you very much. And I’m not beyond beating your ass to prove it. So shut up, and do what you’re told and you might live.” With that, Celeana pushed her hands off of her knees and leaned back in her chair as if nothing had happened.

Rowan swallowed, knowing there was no point in hiding his fear of her. It was so strong she could probably smell it on him.

“Why am I here?” he snarled.

“That isn’t your concern, and frankly I don’t feel like explaining it to you.”

“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?”

“Why would I, when you seem so hell-bent on hating me?” How could he explain to her that he wanted to, gods did he want to. And yet he could still feel his emotions attempting to fight him.

“Who are you?”

“You tell me. I think you know. I think that pretty face is for more than just looks.” He gulped at the realization that this wasn’t a dream. He was really sitting in a warehouse, bound to a chair, while full-fledged members of the mafia stared at him. He really hated his aunt sometimes.

“You don’t look like the rest of them. You’re-”

“Prettier? Smarter? Wittier? Tell me something I don’t know.” Celeana was picking at her nails again.

“So what are you supposed to be? Good cop?” Her answering smile chilled his bones.

“Something like that. It would help to tolerate me.”

“You try being friendly with the people holding you prisoner.” Celeana’s smile vanished.

“You’d be surprised.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Like I’d tell you.” Rowan was really wishing he had witty Celeana back because this one seemed to hate him just as much as he hated her. “Now I really suggest shutting the hell up with the questions before that bullet ends up between those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“Miss, your uncle called. He’ll be home at eight.” A chill went down his spine as Celeana’s face went white. He almost thought he was seeing things when something like fear flashed in her eyes for a moment before it was gone and replaced with her smirk again, this one which didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Well,” Celeana said, grunting as she stood up and hauled her backpack and book over her shoulder. “This has been fun, but I’m gonna have to leave you boys to it.” Rowan knew something was wrong when she blew him a kiss, barely looking over her shoulder as she opened the door to the warehouse, pausing with one foot out.

Celeana turned back to him, the side of her face even more beautiful in the reflecting moonlight. As her eyes met his, Rowan felt pinned in place by the intensity in her own.

“Aelin,” she said quietly. “My name is Aelin. My mom used to call me Celeana when we would sneak out of the house together,” she paused before adding, “It wasn’t all a lie.” With that, she silently slipped out the door, shutting it solidly behind her and leaving Celeana staring at the empty place where she had just been.

It wasn’t all a lie.

drink your water :)

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #celeana sardothien #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #modern au #SJM

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kuroos-moon · 4 years

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Tetsuro’s Not-So-Secret Admirer

desc: You’re his biggest fan and shame on you for thinking he doesn’t know. When you disappoint him by not showing up during his match, secrets unfold just right after.

wc: 1.5k

warning/s: none

a/n: ik this isn’t a request but it’s his birthday and i love him to the moon and back i’ll literally sell my soul for him 🥺also, i rlly enjoyed writing this pls give it a shot <333

They won; they were going to nationals. Nekoma’s captain had all reason to be happy— ecstatic even; this wouldn’t be his last game and they actually have a shot playing Karasuno. Weirdly enough, he was in too much dismay to enjoy their victory, ordering his team to line up in front of their schoolmates who came to cheer them on.

His fan club was there, but you weren’t. He knows you didn’t attend his game; his eyes would always scan the crowd at every timeout and your absence would disappoint him each time, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he tries to figure out why you didn’t come to support him.

You were his number one fan, right? He pretended to not know and be nonchalant about how you ‘subtly’ admired him, but oh, he knows— and you’d be embarrassed to know how he found out. One last time, before leaving the court, he looks up at the stands; and still, you weren’t there.

Maybe he was twisted or obsessed, but spiking a ball, scoring off a block or amazingly digging a seemingly impossible-to-receive ball just didn’t feel as exhilarating despite the constant cheering of his name. Pride didn’t course through his veins all throughout the match wherein he led his team without flaw and he blames you for it.

He never got to see the head-over-heels look in your eyes, didn’t hear you shout his name or clutch at your chest anxiously at a long rally, and most importantly, you weren’t there to approach him after such a hard-earned and awaited victorious match. If you were, he just knows it was the time to ask you out on a date instead of settling for the ‘let’s like each other from afar’ relationship.

“Kuroo,” Kenma mutters under his breath, making the disheartened captain look up from his own shoes. He wonders why they’ve stopped, the bus was waiting, but when he sees you standing before his team, he’s rendered helplessly speechless.

You stood self-consciously aware that all of them were staring at you. Not that that mattered much, what really made you become a jumble of nerves was Kuroo’s passive stare. How could you even look at him in the eyes? The answer is you can’t, he was too glorious you’re bound to go blind. His hair was messy as usual and his tall figure made him stand out, black shirt beautifully sticking to his body and his red shorts just not long enough to shield your sight away from his thighs.

“The bus is waiting, let’s hurry up,” Kuroo nonchalantly says to his team, your heart sinking for some reason. What did you expect anyway? You were just another one of his fans and your unwavering feelings for him won’t magically make him like you back.

You just want to see him a little longer, cursing yourself for waking up late and not seeing his game. Before you knew it, one of them passed by you, and another, and another until finally, he walked by you as well, the momentary closeness of Kuroo Tetsuro just when he was beside you making your knees weak and your heart ache with longing.

Unrequited love is hard and being his fan is hard though it’s one of your greatest joys. Seeing him happy, knowing that he had aced another test and witnessing the grin on his face as he focused on something he loved to do made you ultimately content and happy, and that was enough.

But were you sincerely content with it or was it just a lie you told yourself to erase the pain of being a mere fan among many?

Screw loving him from a distance. “Kuroo-senpai!” You call for him, turning around with your body set on sprinting towards his bus if you have to. You were so sure you would confess today, in front of his team if you must without fearing his rejection; but what were you supposed to do when you’re met with his chest the moment you turn around?

He was right in front of you, hands inside the pockets of his unzipped red Nekoma jacket. You lose your voice and bravery, pathetically unable to move or even look up at him as you internally go into panic. He is looking at you and you know that he knows you’re flustered.

“I’m right here,” he quietly says and you gulp. “Weren’t you going to say something?”

For a second you doubt that they won, he just seemed so glum and scary. “It’s nothing, I- I’m sorry, I should go,” your strings of stuttered words were barely audible and your rushing to leave made him all the more frustrated, “after skipping my match like that you’ll run off so soon?”

You look up at him in surprise, “how do you know I wasn’t there?”

“Where were you?” He ignores your question, but you were more curious. “Why do you care?”

He involuntarily cracks a grin, just a second ago you were hardly coherent and you were obviously nervous but now you’re answering his question with another question without breaking a sweat. “I don’t have to answer you if you’re not telling me what it is you wanted to tell me earlier.”

You raise a brow at him, “I said it was nothing.”

“You called for me as if your life was on the line, I’m sure it was nothing,” he sarcastically says. You weren’t sure before, but now you’re positive that he was teasing you. He’s lost the depressing aura he had earlier and wore the cutest grin you’ve seen on him as he stares back at you.

You silently commend yourself for not breaking eye contact but now you don’t even know what to do, feeling cornered and restless. Now is the perfect time to confess, there won’t be another chance like this because you know you’re too chicken to go through another nerve-wracking encounter with him.

“Kuroo-senpai,” you softly say, and he subtly bites the inside of his cheek to fight off the smile that threatened to show upon hearing you say his name. “I- I think I like you,” you mutter, biting your lip as you immediately look away.

“You think?” He taunts, taking a daring step closer to you and smirking when you squeak instead of taking a step back. He’s got you wrapped around his finger and he knows it, “you sound unsure, and that’s not good enough.”

“Good enough for what?” You can’t fight it anymore, you just had to look back at him, wanting to touch him all the more that he stood this painfully close. “Good enough to be more than just my silly fan,” he chuckles, before stepping away.

“I have to go, and since you missed my game earlier,” he trails off in thought but you fail to register a word he just said because you were just so mesmerized at the sight of him. He genuinely looked happy and carefree, his eyes twinkling with excitement and his lips pulled up in a playful grin.

His victory earlier caught on to him but what really made him this euphoric was your confession. “Since you missed my game earlier, you could make up for it by going out with me.”

“What?” Your jaw drops, and his grin widens. “Text me later kitten,” he winks, slowly backing away as he takes steps back, his gaze still not leaving yours, “I assume you have my number.”

“I don’t.” You lie.

“Kuroo-senpai, you don’t know me, but I’m your biggest fan and I hope you ace your test today,” he playfully says, looking back at your horrified expression with a smug smirk.

He takes another step back, “senpai, it’s me again. I’d love to run my fingers through your messy hair, oh and you looked really dashing today in a lab coat.”

Another step, “Kuroo-senpai, you haven’t been sleeping well, I’m worried and I hope you start taking better care of yourself.”

“Stop!” You hiss.

His smirk falls off, replaced by a serious but soft look as he stares back at you, “senpai, you were really amazing today, but I don’t like you just because you’re tall, or handsome or an insanely amazing volleyball player and captain. I love how you care for everyone around you; I love how you’re always so eager to study for chemistry and I definitely love how you kindly flash a smile of gratitude towards your fans after every game. It makes me happy; I just like you very much, Kuroo-senpai, and I’ll support you at your every match since that’s the only time I could express how I feel for you without being discovered.”

“You even memorized that?!” You shriek, words couldn’t even explain how embarrassed you are right now as you cover your face with your hands; you’re pretty much close to crying at this point.

“You... broke off your promise, you weren’t there to cheer me on earlier,” his lips press into a thin line before he cracks a grin, “that was how I expedted your confession to go, but it’s fine,” he snickers.

“So all along you knew that was me?”

“I know you thought you were anonymous when you sent me those texts but I had your contact saved too, I liked you first you know,” he chuckles, “and for the record,” he bites his lip, hesitant to continue but he does, “I don’t even look at anyone else after a match— I don’t flash a smile of gratitude to my fans y/n, I smile at you.”

Giving you one last soft smile, he finally turns around and walks away. Who would’ve thought the man of your dreams had you in his every night far longer than you?

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#kuroo x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! headcanons #kuroo tetsuro

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sweetsbfreex · 4 years

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what are you waiting for

"you’re so fucking difficult” he seethed his hand tense around your arm as you walked beside him.”...and for what, because you felt like it?” he asked looking down at you, you both stood on the side walk, waiting for his driver to pull up.

“har, i didn-”

“I didn’t ask you to speak baby”

you huffed slouching against him, seconds passed by until finally the car arrived. you got it in first, somewhere along the way an unspoken rule was made that no matter what, you were the first to get in the car. Harry followed quickly after you.

“evening Robert, theres a quick change of plans, you mind heading to y/n’s flat?”

"wait, but it’s farther then your place?” you questioned.

“it’s what i’m paid for, Mr.styles” he chuckled.

“thank you” harry quickly got up from his seat pushing the button, instantly the heavily tinted, glass partition rose up. He shuffled back to sit against the door, pulling his phone out to play a low tune to tune out whatever was coming up.

Once that was done he turned his body, one leg hanging over the seat and the other brought up to rest against the seat. his crotch in perfect view, you sat there across from him, your back against the door, a fidgeting ball of nerves.

“well what are you waiting for, take out my dick?”

“wha-”

“did i stutter?” he stated eyes wide “take. out. my. dick”

“no” you shook your head, looking away from what you knew was a glare of disbelief.

“y/n. look at me” you turned towards his face once again.

“i’m not repeating myself again, know i don’t enjoy that, so come over here and do what i say before you get it worse then i planned”

you stared at him in hesitation as he peered at you with questioning ‘are you really gonna defy be again’ is what you read from his viridescent eyes. pulling away from the door you scooted towards him, dragging your legs to fold under you.

you looked at him again trying to gain some signal that he was just playing, anything you didn’t mean what you did...well kind of but still!

“y/n if i have to wait another second...” he warned

you huffed again reaching your hands out towards his zipper.

“and stop the fucking huffing” he said snapping his fingers in front of your face.

you refrained yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing it’d just get you into a bigger mess. pulling down his zipper you reached up to pop the button of his pants. you sat back on your legs, reaching your hand into the (no surprise there) boxer-less area. obtaining the hard on a low suck of air omitted from him. once in view, to his liking, you pulled your hand away awaiting the next instructions.

instantly harry held out both palms and you knew exactly what that meant.

“h no!”

“sorry angel, this is what i see fitting”

you began to lower your upper body, ass in the air, your face near his crotch, harry placing both palms on the back of your head; one of them grasping your up-do. this fucking sucked you thought to yourself, this would be the day you decide to wear your hair up.

“open”

on command you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out in the process.

digging his fingers into your scalp and hair he brought you down carefully over his erection, inserting it slowly, but once it was in all hell broke loose. he quickly began his quick rhythm, bobbing your head like a careless fleshlight. “nothing but a warm hole, you hear?”

“fuck y/n” he groaned out head thrown back in elation. to make sure you were getting your punishment wholly, he made sure you took all of him. time to time holding you down as you gargled around him; your nose pressed into his lower abdomen, making it difficult to breath properly. and if he really felt like it pinched your nose to obtain the same results, watching you tap your fingers against his thigh in distress.

“good girls don’t get to breath” is what he would mumble lowly.

he never let you up, not until he came really. but when that came he elicited a string of curses, as he rut into you with extra force. his fluids shooting into your mouth as he groaned in pleasure. “fuck me” he rasped. “better swallow it”

he pulled you by your hair roughly, in result you sputtered into a fit of coughs...his cum going everywhere. you gasped in shock, covering your mouth quickly, eyes wide. there was no way this was sliding past him.

there was clear tension in the air as he stared into your glassy eyes and looked at your messy face “for fucks sake y/n” he tsked.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to, you weren’t letting me up!”

“oh so now it’s on me”

“no bu-”

without a word he grabbed you by the back your neck, as he fixed his position to sit in the middle of the long seat. he wrenched your head down into the seat beside his thigh so your ass was in his lap.

he used him palm to lay your dress over your back, and hooked his pointer fingers to pull your panties to your ankles. “you better keep count, and i’m keeping the rings on”

with the news of the rings you whined, shutting your eyes with anticipation.

rubbing his hands together for friction he quickly and harshly struck down on your left cheek, the sting of his rings very prominent.

“one...” you said lowly

“i didn’t hear a number, do we need something extra to go over the rules”

“one!” you repeated.

ten spanks later, 5 on each cheek, you laid there waiting for his next words, trying to refrain yourself from rubbing the pain away.

“turn over”

you turned over quickly trying to ignore the strain on your ass, as the rough material of his pants clashed with your burning skin. he roughly opened your legs, pushing the knee farther away from his chest so the foot could rest on the grown. looking at you, he skimmed his finger over your cl*t watching your facial expression shift from pain to the sudden minuscule amount of pleasure.

looking up at him you begged with your eyes, hoping he’d give you this slight piece of mercy. feeling his finger hover closely, coming in contact with your cl*t occasionally, you closed your eyes; bringing your head back to lean against the seat.

“look at me” is what you heard whilst you eyes flew open, feeling a hand over your throat. he clasped around your throat tightly pinning your head to the seat, to rest. doing as he said you looked at him as he spit onto your pussy. ‘oh my fuck’ is all you could think to yourself as you felt it drip over your slit as harry using his finger to rub it around.

instantly after he plunged his ring and middle finger into you roughly. as he went in and out, you could feel his rings and everything. he extracted a high “oh harry!” out of you. exclusive of any remorse he slammed his fingers into you, with sharpness. it felt so good you just weren’t sure what to do with yourself as one leg bounced in anticipation and other dragged up in a butterfly position and laying flat nonstop.

“hear how wet you are? my fingers can barely grasp” he said into your ears

“you like that baby” you instantly tried to nod your head ‘yes duh’, but his hand around your throat still had you pinned to the seat.

“words” you moaned out a yes in return, trying to refrain from shutting your eyes once his thumb joined the equation. you let your mouth drop open and taking it upon himself as an invitation he spit into your mouth “this time swallow it”. you made a show of it as you swallowed it, opening your mouth with your tongue out as proof.

his thumb rubbed barbarously against you, getting moan after moan out of you. but once it seemed like it was getting too much, your fingers dug into his thighs tightly letting out mewls “harry! harry! ohh i’m gonna-”

and with that he pulled his fingers away. “next time act accordingly and i’lll think of letting you cum”

you felt like crying.

“open”

his stuck his wet fingers into your mouth, a smug expression painted his face whilst he dragged those fingers up and down, hitting the back of your throat. and as somewhat peaceful the atmosphere was that quickly went away when you felt a sudden slap on your cl*t. you looked up, eyes wide, at harry confusion and shock written all over your face.

“next” smack “time” smack “i” smack “tell you” smack “to do” smack “something” smack”do. it” and with that he ended with hardest hit, your legs closing in on his hands as you let out small groans and tears.

he let you chill out for a few minutes as you laid on his lap, evening your breaths.

“sit up for me lovie” he said softly, using the hand around your throat to caress your cheek

“we’re done” you whimpered.

“we’re done” he confirmed. pulling you up so you could sit in his properly, brushing your dress to lay over your legs once again.

he wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands rubbing your back. placing kisses all over the side of your face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings” your mumbled into his chest.

he grasped your cheeks pulling you away “it’s ok” he started, kissing your pouted lips “i want you to tell me the truth though, i don’t want you lying to me and me having to find out the truth from someone else”

“i wont, i promise. i just didn’t know how you would react”

“it’s ok” he repeated “when we get home we’ll take and i’ll shower your with aftercare”

i’ve been deciding whether i wanted to write on tumblr also, but i couldn’t get this concept out of my mind and just had to write it out, this is my first time writing smut so sryy

aftercare; pt 2

pls refrain from posting my writing anywhere <3

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles blurb #dom! harry styles #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x you #dom! harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine

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theimprobabledreamersworld · 3 years

Note

40. “Have I ever lied to you?” With Janus and Patton?

I've finally written it! 😄 This one is slightly longer than planned, but I had fun finishing it after a few days of writer's block! I don't know how good it is, but I hope you like it! 💚🖤

General writing taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @red-imeanblue @lost-in-thought-20 (If anyone would like to be added to the general taglist, let me know!)

Read it on Ao3!

Have I Ever Lied To You?

Pre-romantic Patton/Janus

Janus stared out of the window, watching the rain hit the glass drop by drop before streaming down and pooling onto the balcony of his apartment. He sighed as he held the hot coffee cup in his hands looking at the steam as it fogged up the glass, he drew a smiley face in the condensation, but it didn’t improve his mood. He hated the rain, primarily because it made his hair all messy. It was also what the weather was like when his best friend Patton left five years ago, and he never heard from him again. It didn’t help that he started developing a crush on him not long before he had to leave. Janus tried to shake that thought out of his mind, he never stopped feeling guilty for not being there for Patton… but there was a good reason. He always clung onto the hope that they would be reunited again, but as every year passed, that hope began to flicker and burn out.

He grimaced as he took a sip of his now cold coffee and walked into the kitchen to pour it into the sink. He boiled the kettle to make a fresh cup; but opened the cupboard and sighed once more as he realised he was now out of coffee. He slumped down in defeat wondering if this day could possibly get any worse. Janus dragged his feet as he slowly grabbed his coat ready to head out. His mind was too full of memories of the past and regrets, needing to go out was the last thing he needed, especially when he wanted to just wallow in his emotions. He took a deep breath and opened the front door with the minimal amount of enthusiasm possible.

As he locked the front door and turned around, he heard a crash, and it took him a few seconds to realise that he was on the floor. Not only that, but he was pinned down under a guy who was roughly his age, to say he was baffled was quite an understatement. Janus had to admit, this guy was pretty cute. His auburn hair sat on top of thick rimmed glasses, he couldn’t help but notice the light covering of freckles on his cheeks and the bright blue polo shirt. He was too busy staring to notice that the guy was frantically trying to talk to him.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you okay? Are you hurt? I didn’t mean to hurt you; I was too busy watching the rainbow made by the rain!” It took Janus a few seconds to figure out where he had seen this person before, the puzzle pieces slowly came together and when the last one slotted into place, his eyes widened in shock. He knew that he had just ignored everything that he had been asked, but he needed to check before he made a fool out of himself.

“… Patton? Is that you?” He had to hide the smile from his face just in case it wasn’t him. The shock on the other guys face was enough to confirm his suspicions as he smiled with such vigor back at him.

“… Janus?! Wow, what are the odds huh?” He got off of Janus and held out a hand to pull him up. He gratefully took the opportunity and lingered holding his hand for as long as possible. He smiled at Patton before he was nearly knocked back onto the ground again with a forceful but endearing hug, something he’s been longing to experience for so many years now. He sank into the hug and clung onto Patton like he was some kind of cruel apparition taunting him. Patton broke the hug first but kept his hands on Janus’ shoulders and at this point, he honestly didn’t care that he was getting drenched from head to toe. He was right where he wanted to be.

“So, how have you been? It’s been a while, huh?” Janus couldn’t help but notice that Patton was kicking a small stone, refusing to look up at him. He must still remember what happened the day that he left, and he felt his heart crack just a little bit. The only consolation was that he could explain his actions from that day.

“Ehh, yeah. I’m doing good. Pretty busy which isn’t unusual for me. Believe me, I’ve been thinking about seeing you again for the longest time. How are you doing?” He saw that Patton was slowly looking up at him, almost in relief that he hadn’t forgotten about him.

“Yeah… I’m good… Do you really mean that? You’ve been thinking about me?” There was an uncharacteristic glint in Patton’s eye, like he was fighting the urge to either laugh or cry, trying to find a lie in Janus’ genuine truth. He used to lie a lot and hide truths behind sarcasm, but he grew out of that over time.

“I meant every word, Patton. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you… Have I ever lied to you?” He stepped closer to Patton, he knew that question would lead to the thing he both wanted to confront but wanted to run and hide from at the same time. The fact that Patton’s eyes were tearing up and glimmered in the rain showed that he was thinking the exact same thing.

“Only once… The day I had to go, move away with my parents… Where were you? You were the only person I wanted to see before I left, but you were the only person who wasn’t there… I’m sorry. That’s not fair, but you meant so much to me. You still do, and you always will.” That small crack in Janus’ heart was breaking more and more with every word, with every shake in Patton’s voice as the hurt he must have been harboring just poured out into the street and merged with the falling rain. He wrapped Patton up in a hug, and he felt the desperate clasping on Patton’s hands around him. He whispered to him how it was okay, that he was sorry, that he wasn’t going anywhere again. It didn’t take long for the sobs to turn into quiet sniffles and Patton pulled himself out of the warm embrace with a grateful smile on his face.

“I can assure you, Patton. There’s no one that feels worse for what happened that day. I have beaten myself up every single time it rains, the guilt and sadness has consumed me constantly. The thought of never seeing you again made me want to scream and search the world to find you.” He had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying, there were too many tears for what should be a happy reunion.

“Look, I can explain what happened… I had ordered a gift for you, but I had to go into town to get it because it was custom made. Then the bus didn’t turn up and traffic was a nightmare since the rain caused the road flooded. By the time I finally got back to your house… you were long gone.” He could help but think how cute Patton looked again as he started to get excited and bounced on his feet slightly while covering his mouth with his hands.

“You… You were getting me a GIFT?! Oh my goodness, I love that!!” Janus took a deep breath in, he had kept it all of this time, just in case this miracle ever happened. He clasped the small square box before slowly removing it from his bag. He took Patton’s hand gently and then placed the box on his palm delicately.

Patton looked over with a look of surprise on his face. Janus nodded, urging him to open the box. He lifted the lid off as carefully as he could. Patton gasped and Janus had to admit, he forgot what it looked like after all of these years. It was a bracelet combining their two favourite colours. The body of the bracelet was a mix of blues, some light, some dark like the night. Then threads of gold were wrapped around, creating a beautiful combination of the two colours which symbolised their bond. There were three charms that summed them up too. A paw print for Patton, a small snake for Janus, and a heart in between them. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as he saw how stunned Patton was.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life… This is gorgeous Janus. I love you! Can you put it on for me?” Janus’ brain was buffering for a second… Patton just said what? Did this mean that he had feelings for him too? He could think about that later, he needed to hide the blush spreading across his face and he delicately took the bracelet and tried to open the clasp. His hands were too wet from the rain, and it kept slipping from his grip. He laughed and smiled when Patton giggled too.

“It’s way too wet out here, how about you come into my place? We can dry off, get some take out, watch some Disney movies, and catch up on everything? I think we have a lot to talk about.” He held his hand out and Patton nodded before taking it. Hopefully, this would be the beginning of a happy ending for both of them. He looked behind him briefly, Patton was stood perfectly in the middle of a fully formed rainbow as the sun broke through the clouds. He took out his phone with lightning speed and snapped a photo while Patton wasn't looking. Maybe rain wasn’t so bad anymore. Janus turned back, and as he unlocked the front door, he couldn’t help himself from whispering under his breath.

“I love you too, Patton.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #patton sanders #janus sanders #fluff

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i-watch-too-many-movies · 3 years

Text

5 Favorite First Viewings of July 2021

Quick note: Hi everyone, I'm back, things have honestly been getting better for me, and I'm glad to be on this site full of cinephiles, people that are too horny, and cinephiles that are too horny. I'll be more active on here. But anyway, let's talk about some movies.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970) (dir. Russ Meyer)

CW: Abortion mention

What a picture. What a gorgeous, sexy, horrifying slice of what Hollywood and star life can do to a bunch of bright-eyed young people looking for success. Also is a critique of how macho nature can ruin friendships and romantic relationships with total ease. I was obsessed with the scene transitions, like Pet pouring pancake mix onto a plate after the abortion scene, or Kelly singing after someone screams before their murder in the opening scene.

Great, campy flick with exceptional music too.

Deep Cover (1992) (dir. Bill Duke)

Laurence Fishburne plays Russell Stevens, a Cincinnati police officer who hopes to do well by the community, to make a difference. He’s traumatized by the death of his substance-abusing father, and wants to make sure that he can help the people of his own town. He goes undercover on assignment as a drug dealer, where his boss orders him to take down the kingpin. Stevens realizes the police’s own failings while on assignment. The racist abuse he takes from Agent Carver, and the realization that the police department is protecting drug kingpins like Gallegos and Barbossa. Giving drugs to Black kids and Latinx kids so there will be less of them. The cops are no different than the drug kingpins looking to make filthy amounts of money.

Fishburne’s performance is excellent, as Stevens feels he has to maintain a stone face so he doesn’t get caught by Jason or Barbossa or any of his cronies, but also he maintains a stone face to try and hide his emotion, his trauma. But when he gets pissed, Fishburne acts it beautifully, as is when he has to deliver a funny quip to counter Jason’s douchebaggery. And the production design, holy fuck, the sets and the lighting.

A perfect neo-noir for the HW Bush years, arguably one of the most timeless commentaries on the era, as well as the police as a whole.

Fast Five (2011) (dir. Justin Lin)

I was torn between including this or Furious 7, but I ultimately went with Fast Five because it felt like an important turning point in the series, it's a great heist film, and it reached the same chaotic highs and genuinely excellent filmmaking that I had been waiting for since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift.

Fast Five opens where Fast & 4ious left off. Dom is hauled away to prison on a bus. Mia and Brian drive in their high-tech cars and knock the bus over, helping Dom escape. The title drops. Fast Five. It’s such an intense yet short action scene, and dropping the title immediately after it lets the viewer know that this movie is not fucking around. It’s arguably gonna be more intense and insane than the previous one.

And it is. The filmmakers made the decision to use a lot more practical stunt work for the film, and as a result, it leads to, so far, the best action in the entire series, since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift. It’s not just how it’s shot or edited, it’s the geography of the locations, the rooftop chase echoes the rooftop chase of Jackie Chan’s masterwork Police Story, particularly the way each character bounces from top to top.

And of course, there’s the silliest moment in the movie, the one that matches the intensity and kineticism of a film like 2 Fast, which is driving the Reyes’ bank vault throughout the street, getting chased by corrupt cops.

I know we make fun of Vin Diesel for saying “family” all the time in these films, but there’s a reason we remember him saying all of these impassioned monologues. Because he’s unbelievably sincere, and has so much love in his heart for every single person in the room. Anytime he delivers a speech to any of them, it’s genuinely heartwarming.

This is the film that finally shows La Familia in their best environment, which is working together, in a movie genre that allows them to work together, which is a heist film. And a great one at that.

Last Days (2005) (dir. Gus Van Sant)

CW: Mention of suicide

Several films have been made about legendary rock artist Kurt Cobain, and for good reason. He is one of the most tragic figures in rock and roll. A tortured genius who has written and performed classic song after classic song with his band Nirvana. He was called the voice of a generation, and helped change the face of mainstream alternative rock music as we know it. But with that fame, and all of those expectations came a worsening depression and further drug abuse, and his eventual death. But most of the films about Kurt Cobain ask one question which gets under my skin way too much:

“Who REEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLY killed Kurt Cobain?”

It was him. He did. And it’s okay, I’m sad too. Thinking that Kurt Cobain was murdered is completely ignoring the depression that he faced. And despite Last Days being more inspired by the death of Cobain rather than actually about it, it feels much more honest than the conspiracy documentaries on his death, wanting to leech off of his dead body.

This is the last installment of Gus Van Sant’s “Death Trilogy”, the previous two installments being Gerry (2001), and Elephant (2003). While I have not seen Gerry, I have seen Elephant though, and love that film for its minimalist, raw nature, and its boldness for not romanticizing the school shooter or the lives they had taken. Last Days falls into that trap once, as I don’t agree with the shot of Blake’s soul climbing up a ladder, that always struck me as cheesy in a film that is anything but.

Last Days is similar to Elephant in terms of the way it is filmed. Its usage of long takes, and still shots of characters doing various things, such as Blake playing his guitar behind a drum set. The way these moments are shot is similar to a Chantal Akerman film, particularly Jeanne Dielman. Where the acts of the mundane are the stars of the film. Blake wanders around an empty house, and the viewer can feel the pain, not just through Michael Pitt’s acting, but from the house itself. Its decay, its paint peeling from the walls, from the soft glow of the lamp that lights his face.

I say this is the most honest film about Kurt Cobain, because, despite the characters technically being fictional (the main character who looks, walks, and acts like Cobain is named Blake), this film focuses on the mental state of a person before they eventually take their own life. They’re still working, still making music, still trying to talk to friends and bandmates, but the depression lingers on. Not once does this film try to make you believe that someone else killed him, because you can see the signs of his own suicide taking place just through the film’s excellent cinematography by Harris Savides, showing his mental state only growing worse through the production design.

And it’s empathetic with him. There’s no judgement for leaving rehab, there’s no finger-wagging at him or the people he was with, there’s just a silent prayer at the end of the film, hoping that he is in a better place than he was.

Sometimes you don’t need to show every event that led you to where you are, all you can show is the moment, which also makes this better than most biopics as well, as it never feels messy or muddled, just showing one moment of Blake/Kurt’s life.

I really loved this film, and I’ll be writing about it in full soon.

The Village (2004) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

The Cracked.com/Channel Awesome audience stuck in 2012 will tell you that this was the beginning of the end for Shyamalan. That this was when people stopped taking him seriously, that this was when he became more of a punchline because of his twist endings.

But why?

The Village was released in 2004, deep in the Bush administration, during the early stages of the Iraq War. The leaders of the time were talking about imaginary boogeymen, terrorists that would attack the civilians if they could. Because of 9/11, politicians could get away with these false ideas with the majority of Americans fully believing them. The boogeymen in The Village are “The People We Don’t Speak Of”, monsters attracted by the color red. Yet we find out that they are all costumes made by the Elders of the land, designed to prevent people from going outside the land. They rule by fear disguised as love. They’ve gone through their own traumas through the deaths of their family members, but they’ve decided to completely abandon the lives that they’ve had and have their children living lies.

9/11 impacted American life by teaching citizens to live primarily by fear, to not trust anyone but their own people. And yet, post-9/11, all that increased was not “coming together”, but hate crimes against South Asian people. The rage white Americans had felt led to conservative politicians pushing fear-mongering agendas, and said white Americans blindly accepted. The outside world was progressing, but too many people were fine with living with further conservative politics only regressing American life further and further back, all for the illusion of safety. Meanwhile, the only threats to them were not the brown citizens outside of America they were so afraid of, but the white elders, the white politicians.

The Village explores these fears so eloquently, all while having a terrifying atmosphere, an enchanting score, and brilliant sound design. I enjoyed this movie very much.

Other viewings I enjoyed:

Beavis and Butt-Head Do America (1996) (dir. Mike Judge) (re-watch)

Blow Out (1981) (dir. Brian de Palma) (re-watch)

Clueless (1995) (dir. Amy Heckerling) (re-watch)

Furious 7 (2015) (dir. James Wan)

The Long Goodbye (1973) (dir. Robert Altman)

Lupin III: The First (2019) (dir. Takashi Yamazaki)

Unbreakable (2000) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan) (re-watch)

Velvet Goldmine (1998) (dir. Todd Haynes)

The Visit (2015) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

#favorite first watches #these movies are (chef's kiss)#beyond the valley of the dolls #russ meyer #deep cover #bill duke #fast five #justin lin #last days #gus van sant #the village #m night shyamalan

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moondustis · 4 years

Text

songs for you (m)

pairing: nakamoto yuta + reader genre: smut, angst, fluff / friends to lovers, 70s, band!au word count: 10k summary: A story about dreams, music, groupies and falling in love with your best friend. It’s the 70s, baby, live a little. song rec: miss you - the rolling stones / woman - harry styles / grow up - paramore

You don’t remember much of your childhood, just flashes and weird memories that pop in every now and then. That’s what happens as you get older, you guess. But here’s something you remember:

Nakamoto Yuta, three years older than you, walking inside your house with his mother holding his hand. You had seen the woman before, a very good friend of your mom from a long time ago, but the scrawny kid by her side was something new. And in your young age, nothing seemed more intimidating than a boy older and taller than you.

It didn’t go very well, let’s just put it like that.

But still, for some reason, after that day the boy sticked to your side like glue. A friend you could say, even with the age difference and the intimidating stares. It was like Yuta got himself a permanent place on your life, always teasing you, but also always making sure you were okay.

As a teenager, you remember daydreaming of travelling the world. Finally getting away from the too small town you lived in and away from all the stupid closed minded people that wanted to know about everybody's business. You remember Yuta showing you songs that you never heard before, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, Hendrix, the list would go on and on. It was like music became a little world you had built for yourselves, where you could be who you truly wanted to be.

The both of you had always dreamed of something more, something exciting and that made your blood rush with adrenaline. You wanted to live, experience the things you only heard about in the records Yuta played for you and what you saw on the telly at late night at his house.

That’s something you had been thinking about a lot these days, while you watched roads pass by through the windows of the barely comfortable tour bus. Because, somehow, you had made it, your dreams had come true and at the age of 20 you got to go on tour with your band and finally see the world you had only fantasized about, even if it was only a few cities not that far from yours.

The band, put together by none other than you and your best friend, consisted of four people: you on the guitar, something you had learned by watching Jimi Hendrix too much, Taeyong on the bass, Doyoung singing, Johnny on the keyboard and last but not least, Yuta as the drummer. Oh, and you couldn’t forget about Taeil, your self proclaimed manager that didn’t gain anything with this job but the opportunity to travel with you all.

And with punk and classic rock influences all over your songs, you were not half bad, had gotten the opportunity to tour for a reason and could even make the small crowds that gathered to see you sing along, achieving an even smaller amount of fans that proclaimed their adoration for you.

It was literally the start of a dream come true, but for some reason you had been feeling weird the past days. Like your mind just started wondering out of nowhere, like it is now, and you started to think about things that made a lump form in your throat. Because see, it was great, the music and all the perfoming, the parties and the small magazines, but you didn’t feel happy all the time. You wondered if 16 year old you would be proud.

A loud clash spurs you out of your trance and brings you back to the studio you’re all in, trying to record a new song. Yuta looks at you with an annoyed expression as the plate on the drums still stirs.

“Wake the fuck up, you’re daydreaming again.” He says, without real bite to the words, but still mean enough to make you snap back. “We only have one hour left and the song is not even halfway finished.”

“Sorry.” You murmur, guitar feeling heavy but comfortable as you reposition it. Taeyong starts counting and then the melody of the familiar song you had all finished writing yesterday starts. Your fingers find the guitar strings with ease and you let yourself go with the music.

❀

There were few things better than making music with your best friends. Travelling to different places, standing in front of a crowd no matter how small and performing, the money you managed to split among yourselves, they were all great but nothing came close to being in a studio with the people that became your family while you did the thing you all loved the most.

It’s a small studio this time but the atmosphere is good, with velvet walls, tiled floor and low lights. The smell of weed is intoxicating and you feel high after not even that many hits. Maybe it’s just the joy of being in the moment.

The small sketchbook you take around with you everywhere stays placed on your lap with possible lyrics written all over it in a messy way, because when inspiration hits it’s impossible to keep an organized mind. Your head stays tilted back, eyes closed as the melody Taeyong is playing and your own thoughts fill your head. They come and go with no rush, something that is rare because usually you’re all over the place, overthinking until you get a headache.

Taeyong hums something to go along with the bass and a smile forms in your lips at how good it sounds already, good enough to have your eyes opening as you write down the things your mind provides. These days it’s mostly about the same things, finding yourself and the overwhelming feeling that came with it, even more when you did it while discovering the world and you recent acquainted opportunities. But they are also about something that you like to ignore. You knew very well it was there, would be too obvious if you didn't, but pretending you didn’t was better. Safer.

Johnny plops down next to you on the leather couch, a silly smile on his lips as he tries to take a peek at your writing. “What is it you got there? Another love song?” He asks just the tiniest bit teasingly, making you blush because that’s the exact subject you would like to avoid.

Love, what a weird thing isn’t it? Both in concept and in practice.

You had once thought you would never fall in love, too independent and doing well on your own. But that’s the thing about it, you don’t really get to choose when or if it’s going to happen. Love strips you down of your free will and there’s nothing you can do but succumb to it.

Were you in love, though? That’s a good question, really. You weren’t one to think you knew everything about it and had it all figured out, because in reality the mere thought of it scared you. But there’s this feeling on your chest that you can quite find another word for.

“Maybe.” It’s your answer to Johnny’s question. “But it’s none of your business.”

He laughs when you poke out your tongue at him, nudging your shoulder playfully. “It is when I’ll be also playing it live.”

He’s right but you won’t give out the privilege of letting him know that. Not that you would have time, because Taeyong is calling him to go over the melody together and soon you’re on the couch by yourself again.

You ponder getting up as well to play a little, on hopes to find the right notes to fit the raw lyrics you had, but your body feels lethargic enough from being high and you decide against it.

Closing your eyes again you only open them when the couch tips again, this time Yuta sits down close to you. Closer than Johnny had and you can smell his cologne amidst the strong smell of weed that's in the entire room.

“What you up to?” He asks, arm resting behind you on the couch and the gesture makes you feel small. He smiles, glancing down at your notebook and flipping through the pages gently.

“Just… writing and stuff.” You feel higher now than you did before for some reason.

He hums, looking straight ahead now, but you continue looking at him. “You’ve been really quiet lately.” He points out, no beating around or questioning. It must’ve took a lot of thinking from his part to finally say that to you, because talking about anything that could become too personal was far from his strength.

“Yeah, I think I’m probably just homesick. Or something like that.” It’s not a full lie so he falls for it, nodding as if indicating he feels the same.

“Missing your mom’s cooking, huh? Can’t say I’m not either.” He jokes and it makes you crack a smile. “But I get that. But most times when I start to get homesick I remember I got you.”

He says it still looking at Taeyong and Johnny as they play. His voice is calm, slightly slurred when he adds. “And you’re practically home to me.”

His eyes move to you then, a smile on his lips as his arm pushes you closer in an almost hug. He acts as if he just didn’t say something that makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Like he didn’t just say something that made you think you were in fact, in love.

❀

The adrenaline that came with performing in front of more than twenty people was something unmatched. You jump around the stage, playing like it could be your last time with fingers a little red from the guitar strings but you couldn’t care less, not with the music playing so loud and your heart beating so fast.

Yuta smiles wickedly when you stand in front of him, hands moving as fast as yours as the drum and guitar mix together. You smile back, thrilled and beyond excited that you get to do this with your best friend every night.

The best friend which you had been nurturing feeling you didn’t know how to deal with for. What a messy situation, because for one there was an unsaid rule that you shouldn’t have any sort of romantic relationship with your bandmates. And secondly, Yuta just wasn’t interested in you like that, he had his groupies to keep him busy.

Groupies that don’t take long after the end of the show to gather around him as you walk outside the venue. And you would really like to say that it doesn't bother you, that you couldn't care less, but you can’t. Because you hate it and think it’s a little pathetic how Yuta whispers something to a girl wearing barely anything and how it makes her giggle.

But even more pathetic is the fact that you seem to be bothered by it only because it’s him. All your other bandmates had girls all around them too, Doyoung especially with a different girl under both of his arms. Hell, even you had a small share of men and women that tried their luck approaching you and no one seemed to pay no mind.

When it came to Yuta’s groupies though, it made you almost livid. With how obnoxious they were and how he gave then smiles and flirted like a man with a very defined goal.

You manage to play it cool, though, had mastered the art of pretending by now.

❀

You're sitting on the hotel bed, the only light coming from the outside lamps and the moon shining bright, but it’s enough for you to be able to write the words down on your sketchbook. Inspiration always striked at late nights for some reason, probably because of the loneliness of it all.

You’re playing the guitar mindless, trying to find the perfect melody to fit the lyrics you had just gotten out, when there’s knock in the door. And it would be weird if you weren’t already used to it.

Putting the guitar aside you get up from the bed and tiptoe to the door, peeking on the fish eye to confirm your suspicious. Yuta stands there, hair falling to his face and wearing a shirt that has too many buttons open. He smiles when you open the door, charming and familiar. “Hello there, sweet cheeks.”

Rolling your eyes, you move out of the way to let him get inside your hotel room. “That’s the worst pet name you could ever come up with.”

He makes himself comfortable, plopping down on your bed and taking a lot of space with his spreading. “Don’t lie, I know you like it.” His voice is convinced and you won’t bother trying to change his mind.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, changing the subject as you move to sit on your previous spot. Now, closer to him, you can smell the faint smell of his cigarettes lingering underneath the cologne he probably applied so you wouldn’t notice. Smoking was the way he found to deal with the annoying thoughts that filled his mind at night, resulting in an awful case of insomnia. Not that he would admit that.

“Sleep is for the weak.” He says nonchalantly and you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah. Real artists live on coke and music, is that it?”

He laughs now, amused while he scratches the exposed tattooed skin of his stomach. “That’s the spirit. We’re already halfway there, might as well, huh?” He jokes and you just roll your eyes, kicking him lightly on the shoulder.

“We can't have that stuff around us. One line and Taeyong will be climbing up walls.”

“Taeyong? Please, we both know the one climbing walls would be you.”

You laugh out loud this time and he follows, shaking his head. Times like these, where it was just the two of you, felt too much like when you would stay in his room to listen to records and talk about things that didn’t really make sense.

When your laughter settles down Yuta moves around until his eyes land on your sketchbook and he takes it to read what you’ve been working on. You don’t protest because there’s no reason to, he knows your thoughts almost as well as you do.

He hums, eyes roaming around the page and lips turning a little. “This is good.” His voice is genuine and it makes you blush, praise was something weird to take.

“I’m still working on it, though.”

“Hmm, let me know when you finish it then, we can work the melody together.”

“Of course, can’t make a song without my favorite drummer.” You say it in a funny voice as if you’re joking but he knows it’s nothing but the truth. The first song you had made with him was at 17 and now every time inspiration struck he was always either by your side or on your mind. He called it a connection, a deep one that many artists could only dream of happening. Musical soulmates he had called it once and you agreed, it was like you were just in tune with each other.

You play a little of what you had so far to him, the clock blinking red when it hits 1AM but neither of you bother.

When you get tired of playing you decide to press on the matter. “What were you thinking about?” You start, voice low as if to not scare him off. “That made you lose sleep.”

He must be feeling calm because he lets the words fall out. “Taeil suggested that we make a song with pop influence.” He says and you grimace. “To reach a wider audience.”

“That’s fucking stupid.” Is all you say because it’s what it is. Pop had nothing to do with your style, never had and never would. Not that you hated it, but it wasn’t what you were passionate about.

Yuta chuckles lightly. “That’s what I told him.”

“That’s good.” You say and a minute of silence follows, someone outside drives away, a wheels on concrete sound filling the room. There’s something unspoken in the air, a promise you had made to each other when this tour started.

Music was the thing the two of you loved the most, and nothing, not even money, would change how you did it. The deal was to always stay loyal to that thought.

“We got each other’s back, right?” He asks sudden, but it’s a rhetorical question because he’s soon adding. “That’s all we got in this world, our music and ourselves.”

You look down at him but his eyes stay glued to the wall. A lump forms in your throat at the heaviness of his words and you have to swallow around it to reply. “It’s always gonna be us.” You say in a broken but sure voice. “No matter what.”

“Fuck yeah.” He says quietly and you both laugh.

❀

One thing that you learned with your recently discovered success was that parties became boring quite fast. Loud music and people getting way more drunk or high than they should near a pool was a dangerous mistake. Still, you always followed down the same road.

Your bandmates liked them, a way to interact more with people and an opportunity to get high for free. Music came from experiences, it’s what Johnny always said and you agreed partly because there was indeed something inspiring about being among people that were having fun, that felt carefree.

You take a sip from your beer with that though on your head, leaning against a wall as you watch last mentioned man swing his hips in a messy way in the middle of the living room as two girls laugh and dance with him. You can’t help but laugh alongside with them, even if you’re standing on the opposite side of the room.

It’s a small house, from someone you never met before, but being in a small city always meant crashing a house party with too many college kids that usually screamed when they recognized mostly Doyoung from the posters spread across town.

The slightly buzz of alcohol made you feel like you were floating, head just slightly spinning and you lean against a wall to keep yourself steady. There’s not much going on inside your brain, just the numbness of being just a bit drunk and you enjoyed it, made you feel content.

You clean your wet palm from the beer’s perspiration on your jeans, eyes roaming around the room until you find him. Yuta stands on a wall opposite from the one you are, the bandana on his head keeping the hair out of his face and making you see his features more clearly. He looks good tonight, as he does always, but the post concert glow really did wonders to him and the way his exposed tattooed arms flexed a little when he moved made your head spin again.

It had become a habit, one that you wanted to desperately get rid off. Watching Yuta, almost as if you were analyzing every little detail about him, left you with a weird feeling in your stomach. There he was, the person you felt the closest to in the entire world, the person whom you already knew everything about, but when it was like this, with you staring without him knowing, you felt like he was still a mysterious person. Someone you would be lucky to dive deep into.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks at something the girl besides him whispers in his ear, probably something raunchy by the way he tries to bring her closer. You look away.

Taeyong finds you like that, beer going warm in your hand and your eyes dazed staring at nothing as you overthink every single thing. He smiles when he sees you, probably a little tipsy himself as he leans against the wall so close to you that your hips touch. “What are you doing here alone?” He asks, bumping against your side playfully and it gets a smile from you.

After Yuta, Taeyong was the closest to you in the band, for the simple fact that he cared. Not that the others didn’t, but Taeyong always made sure everyone was doing ok and that had made you feel safe, helped shape the friendship you have today of sharing your secrets and supporting each other.

“Just don't feel like socializing.” Is your reply, because it’s true. People at these parties were usually terrible at small talk or so pretentious they made you feel stupid for even thinking.

He hums, following your vision line as it goes back to Yuta again. His arm is now wrapped around the girl so you look away immediately.

You don’t see the way Taeyong looks at you emphatically. “Have you ever thought about telling him?” It’s obvious what the question is about because as much as you’d like to think you’re good at hiding it, you wouldn’t be good enough to hide it from him.

Still, you try to lie. “What? There's nothing to tell.” The awkward laugh and roll of your eyes are a dead giveaway, too forced to even come close to being genuine.

He laughs in disbelief of your attempts. “Yeah, alright. Just remember you’ll never know the things you don’t try.”

It makes you scoff. How poetic, probably a great thing to say to a drunk girl who’s already having risky thoughts. “Wow, we should definitely write a song about that.” You joke, trying to shift the subject to something else.

“Ha-ha.” He fake laughs but there’s still amusement on his face. “I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” How serious could he be after too many beers, you think to yourself. Maybe you were a fan of being in denial, so you shrug and just do your best to think about something else.

Something pops up on your head, a bad idea most definitely, so you act on lazy impulse. Walking just far enough to throw the still almost full beer bottle and then you come back to stand in front of Taeyong. You must have really be going crazy.

He rolls his eyes even before you talk or put your hands on his shoulders, but still moves to hold your hips. “Yongie…” It’s a sickeningly cute voice, one you use as a joke when you want something. It makes him crack a smile, already knowing what is coming. “I think we should kiss.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hips and smiling. “I’ll have to agree just because you look cute tonight.” You laugh right back at him.

And then you’re kissing, like you had done before in the past for reasons that were the same as the one right now. Boredom, loneliness, horniness or just because. It was a friendly kiss, shared between two people that knew it would never go further than that. And it was good, his tongue sliding against yours in slow motions that are just the tiniest bit sensual because that’s just how Taeyong liked to kiss. It was so good that you forget for a second about other things, such as Yuta.

Yuta who happens to be watching, or better yet glaring, from the other side of the room as you kiss your friend. Yuta who tells the girl he’s with that he’s not in the mood anymore and leaves the party.

In some cases, ignorance truly is bliss.

❀

The dressing room was always a mess before a show, no matter how sketchy, dirty or small it was. Trust a group of musicians that had no basic decency to behave like this to calm their nerves before performing.

Johnny is pressing random notes on the keyboard, making sounds that would be unpleasant to anyone else, but you and Taeyong dance to it in weird moves that get you laughing as Doyoung sings extremely off key. The only one not taking part in your shenanigans is Yuta, who stays on the old couch writing on his notebook, and even if you wanted to call him over, you know better than to bother him.

You don’t even notice when Taeil walks into the room, holding what looks like a folder in his hand and barely helping the excited grin that wants to settle on his face. “Hey!” He tries once to get everyone to pay attention but without success. “HEY!”

His shout has all of you turning to look at him, Johnny’s fingers stopping on the keyboard and the sounds that filled the room before give way to Taeil’s rushed voice.

“I have some really good fucking news.” He announces, shaking the papers around in the air as if any of you could ever guess what’s in those papers.

“What is it?”

“Spit it out, cutie.” Comes Johnny voice and you all laugh. Making Taeil flustrated is easy but he pays it no mind right now, whatever it is he wants to say clearly more important than stupid jokes.

“A Neo Records scout was at the concert last night.” He says with edge on his voice earning confused and shocked reactions from all of you

“What the fuck?” Doyoung groans, dropping his face on his hands. “How did we not know that?”

“How could we even know? These people are sneaky as hell.”

After that the room just becomes a mess of you all talking over each other, putting yourselves down for not having performed better, for not playing better songs.

Taeil has enough of it very fast, yelling over all of you to regain your attention. “None of that matters, because he liked the performance. And,” He breaths out, a pause that has you walking forward to urge him on, “he wants to sign you guys.”

A shriek leaves your lips as someone mutters a curse. It’s unbelievable, not even Taeyong’s hand gripping your arm in excitement manages to spur you out of your trance. “Oh my god. Do they really?” He exclaims and you feel tears forming at your eyes.

“Yes. He said you guys have a lot of potential and after the tour is over they’re going to fly you all out to L.A to record an EP.” Taeil explains in calmness but just enough giddiness to his voice.

There’s no words to describe how much this means. No one in their right mind would ever sign a contract with a band that had a girl playing guitar in it. Women in rock and roll were there to be pretty, you were very much aware of how much hate The Runaways were getting constantly, how much sexist shit you yourself had to hear.

But this, this right here was an opportunity to take your dream to the next level, do something that actually stood a chance of getting recognized.

Your eyes look for Yuta’s, to share the excitement of getting this far but when they meet he holds your gaze in an expression you can't quite pinpoint. His voice raises suddenly, making everyone in the room look at him. “What’s the catch?” He uncrosses his legs, widening them as he looks at Taeil with his pierced eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “I mean, a big record like them wanting to sign with us, there must be something they want out of this.” You furrow your eyebrows because as much sense he makes, it sounds like he’s looking for conflict.

Taeil gapes, as if looking for the right words and you realize there is in fact a catch. “I — Well, they just… They just think it would be nice to have some songs that are more public friendly, but it can be discuss-“

Yuta’s laugh cuts Taeil short. He’s an intimidating person, even more when he looks pissed off and right now as he gets up from the couch you feel like the air is tense enough to cut. “We’re not making shitty manufactured pop songs, man.”

Usually a comment like that would be taken as a joke between all of you, but he says it in a sharp voice and you know it’s because he has had this same conversation with your manager not that many days ago. But still, you feel like there’s something more, even if Yuta wasn't keen on letting his feelings show, you knew something was going on with how distant he had become the last days.

“Come on,Yuta.” The voice comes from Taeyong, moving away from your side to face Yuta properly. There’s not an ounce of bitterness in his voice, only sympathy because you all share the same passions. “This is a crazy opportunity, we can’t let it pass.”

And then you’re sure there’s something going on that goes way over this, because Yuta is pushing Taeyong and mutetting words that you wish he doesn’t mean.”What do you even fucking know? Y’all will just take any validation you can get like little bitches.” It’s simple but it has venom to it. Venom that makes Taeyong’s face contort because he despises confrontation and at that you come forward, pushing Yuta the same way he did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You sound way too emotional and it makes you hate yourself. Yuta just looks at you like he’s annoyed, his shoulders knocking against yours as he walks out of the room.

You look down, shaking your head in disbelief and feeling tired from the quick rise and fall of emotions. Feeling someone hover over you, you look up to find Johnny’s eyes staring down with what looks like sorrow. “Don’t stress over it, he’ll come around to it eventually.”

And you really hope that’s true.

❀

After that, things go back to the same routine of being in a bus for hours, performing in a sketchy bar, getting shitfaced drunk and then doing it all over again. The only difference is that now there’s a tension in the air that comes from both Yuta’s outburst and the prospect of all of this becoming something bigger than it is.

The higher executives at Neo Records or whoever made the decision to sign the band, had given you until your last performance to make a decision. There’s only three shows left until that, but that’s the last thing on your mind as your play a riff that makes the bigger than normal crowd that gathered today scream.

There’s blinding lights on the stage that make you feel like you’re dreaming, the sound of Doyoung half singing half screaming just slightly muted. You turn to where Yuta is, giving his all because he would never do anything but that and when the drumstick hits a plate in a sharp noise he looks right back at you.

Something had changed, you’re not dumb to not know that. But what it was exactly seemed to escape you, because Yuta was just too good at keeping things to himself, too mysterious for your sake. So he keeps giving you this look, a look that wants to be more than that but it’s not that easy to decypher. A look that you ignore to continue playing.

A look that you ignore when you all come out of the stage, sweaty and with adrenaline filling your hearts. That you ignore when everyone gathers around the hotel pool to have a beer and joke around, Johnny jumping on it and splashing everyone on the way.

A look that you can’t ignore any longer as you stand outside of Yuta’s room after everyone has retreated for the night, knocking softly until he opens the door.

This is still the same, he makes way for you to get inside and the scent of him that fills the room make your mind spin. He’s shirtless, probably ready to get to bed, and you can see all of his tattoos and the piercing on his navel on display.

Clearing your throat, you watch as he takes a seat on the bed, legs spread open and looking at you like he’s waiting for you to talk. “Something is going on.” Is what you decided on, not too keen on beating around the bush.

“A lot of things are going on.” He points out and you have to roll your eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Maybe I don’t, so why don’t you make it clear for me?” He’s being defensive, you expected this, but it still makes your blood boil.

“See? There’s no reason for you to give me attitude right now but here we are, so there’s clearly something going on.” You cross your arms on your chest, still standing in the middle of the room like a fool as he chuckles.

“You keep saying that but I think you know very well what’s going on.” He sounds annoyed now, staring directly at you. “You just expect me to accept this shit? For money or whatever it is that you all are looking for?”

His words sound empty so you squint your eyes at him in defiance. “You’re being an asshole, this is not your dream exclusively. You’re not our fucking frontman.”

That makes him scoff. “Please, there wouldn’t be a fucking band to be signed if it weren’t for me.”

Now you really get mad, laughing in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? We started this shit together.” You want to punch him in the face, get the annoyed look right out of his face and remind him.

He looks down, shaking his head in what you think is disbelief. “So why does it feel like you’re not by my side?” His choice of words make your eyebrows furrow. When had you not been loyal to him? You have been by his side since you were 7, nothing had changed. “Seems to me that you’re always taking your little boyfriend’s side now.”

“What?” There’s nothing but confusion in your features as you let your arms fall to your sides. “What boyfriend? Are you fucking out of your-“

He interrupts you with a groan.“Come on, I saw the two of you kissing.”

You blink slowly and then when you realize what he’s talking about, you’re completely outraged. “Taeyong? I’m not dating Taeyong.” Your voice is going higher by the minute and he seems to be getting just as heated.

“Why were you kissing him then?” He asks, getting up from the bed and moving closer to you.

You can’t help the incredulous high laughter that leaves your lips. “Because I wanted to. Is this why you have been acting like this? Why does it even matter to you?”

His tongue curls on the roof of his mouth, looking at you with angry eyes. “Because it does.”

You squint your eyes again, not believing this is really going on right now. Yuta, who hooked up with a different girl every night, patronizing you for kissing someone. It makes something boil inside of you that you find incredibly awful. “Why does it matter?” You demand, pushing him when he doesn’t answer. “Why?”

His face contorts in something you think is guilty, eyes roaming around your own and lips parting. For a second you think he’s going to say something, then you think he’s going to do something else. But none of that happens.

You push him again, no strength to it but he still falls down on the bed in defeat. A lump forms in your throat as he avoids your eyes.

You leave the room before he can see the tears.

❀

The day it happened is still fresh in your memory.

Your bedroom is the classic teenager one, filled with posters of all kind of things, from movies to bands and just quotes that inspired something within. But the one you like the most, of Joan Jett being a complete badass, stares right back at you from where you’re staring at the ceiling. You still remember dreaming about becoming like her one day.

There’s a song playing, something from the Rolling Stones that Yuta had wanted to show you and had practically stormed inside of your house with a vinyl on his hands to do so.

Said man looks at you from your bedroom floor, his now black hair long enough to tie into a small ponytail. There’s a piercing on various parts of his body and that’s enough reason for every girl in the city to want a piece of him, his aura just helped the whole thing. You remember that at 16 you thought it was amazing too. How he just carried himself with so much confidence, how he was always unapologetic. Yuta was someone you looked up to.

“We could do it, you know?” He says out of nowhere, getting you to finally stare back at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Do what?”

“Start a band.”

You laugh because he was like that. Talked about things that he wanted to do with ease, not matter how crazy or unordinary they were. “Sure.” Is what you reply with, giving him a smile.

“I’m being serious.” He urges on. “We can do it, me and you. Just make the music we want to and have fun.”

You think about it for a second but there’s not really a reason to. You would do anything with Yuta. “Ok.” That makes him smile. “Yeah, ok. Let’s start a band.”

Back to the present, your tears stain the stark white fabric of the pillow case. You wonder in the back of your head if 16 year old you would be happy right now and that only makes you cry harder.

❀

Pride, isn’t that a stupid thing to have over trivial matters?

You don’t speak to Yuta at all for the following weeks, confusion and anger still filling your mind and tainting your every thought. And he does the same.

It’s comfortable not having to confront him and hear the harsh words you are sure he has stored, but it also makes your skin itch thinking that this stupid fight is going on for too long.

There’s only one show left and then it’s back to reality for a couple of days. The thought of having to go back home and leaving things unsettled with him makes you sick, and it was obvious if someone were to say something it was going to have to be you. Yuta’s pride was too big, even when it didn’t have to be.

So you go after him, because someone had to. Try to get him alone but it’s like there’s always someone around, or he’s too busy composing and it all hurts. It hurts but not enough to make you give up because you know this is merely a pointless fight.

“Where’s Yuta?” You ask Doyoung, who’s sitting by the hotel pool on one of those cheap looking chairs and with a cigarette lit between his lips. The hotel this time was not as nice as the others, the pool looks unkempt like no one had even touched it in at least a month.

Doyoung blows out smoke, looking at you with a tired face that you probably share from all the performances that are just now weighing down on your shoulders. “I think he went out to some party with Johnny.” He says absently and you huff in defeat, slumping down on the chair next to him.

“Asshole.” You mumble out, shutting your eyes for a moment and then it’s silent. The only noises filling your ears are from the ice machine and from the tall lamps.

Then there’s some rustling going around before Doyoung speaks. “Listen, I know that’s not any of my business, and believe me I would much rather stay out of it.” It’s what he starts with and you almost already know what he’s going to say. “But you two need to figure your shit out.”

Trust your lead singer to just lay down the obvious to you because sometimes that's all you need to hear. You scoff. “That’s what I wanted to do.” In the back of your mind you try not to think about what figuring your shit out would entail.

“He can be a dickhead sometimes, but he’s with us.” He says as if that wasn't something you knew already. “And he said he’ll sign the deal, you know? Had a whole theatrical chat with Taeil and all.”

That’s new information, that makes you squeeze your eyes shut in both excitement and frustration at the same time, because if that was already dealt with then the reason why he was acting like this with you was for something else like you had imagined.

You think of something to say, settling on what you felt deep down the moment you got inside that tour bus. “I… I just don’t want things to change.”

That makes Doyong laugh, his voice hoarse when he says. “They already have, love. You just gotta move forward with it.”

❀

You barely remember the last show, exhaustion finally catching up with your body. You remember the trashy alternative bar, remember some people singing along which was absolutely surreal and you remember the groupies crying about how they would miss the band while you took a little break. Anything other than that is a blur and forgotten as you sleep through the entirety of the trip back home, not bothering with the bumps in the roads or how awful the tour bus smelled after weeks.

You don’t notice until later that Yuta hadn’t even gotten on the bus with everyone else. Instead, as Johnny had said, he went on a small trip and would be back in town by the end of the week. You try not to worry about it too much.

Being back home feels weird and you start thinking about what Doyoung had said that day near the pool. Everything has changed, yes, and now your bedroom feels too small. The band posters don’t inspire you anymore as much as they ignite a fire inside that’s too big to extinguish. Your mother’s hug feels comforting but it doesn’t hold you back.

You were still scared, of course, but being back home made you realize that you craved it too much to let fear hold you back. Because how does one go back to reality like when they had a taste of their dreams? How do they live without wanting a bigger taste, to eat it whole?

The only thought in your head as you lay leisurely in your bed for the next days is that you can’t wait to make more music with your friends.

With Yuta. (Thinking of him makes you want to cry.)

The phone rings on saturday, just as your mother is leaving for her job at a diner and she yells for you to pick it up quickly. You get up from the bed with a groan, leisurely walking to the phone and greeting whoever is in the other side of the line with a simple “Hello.” It was probably one of your mother’s friends wanting to gossip or someone trying to sell you items for gymnastics at home.

It takes a while for anything to be said but when it does, the voice even if static is a familiar one. “Hey, it’s me.” Yuta says and the effect it has on the butterflies on your stomach is maddening. It had been too long in your opinion, relief immediately settling in your mind.

“I know.” You breath out and he chuckles. “Thought you were out there on a self discovering trip.”

The comment makes him snort, a smile of your own making its way into your lips as you twirl the phone line with a finger.

“I just got back.” He clarifies and then there’s pause that lasts for seconds before he’s speaking again. “Listen, I — Fuck, I don’t wanna do this over the phone. Can I come over?”

Your lips feel dry. “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course you can.” And then he’s hanging up after a promise of not taking too long.

The anxiety that bubbles in your stomach is unpleasant but the thought of finally seeing him overshadows it. Because see, there’s a few ways this could go and in the back of your head you’re sure, one hundred percent sure, that your friendship with him would never be the same. Because again, how does one go back to normal when everything had changed?

Your breath hitches when there’s a knock on the door, your heart race going worryingly up and when you finally open it, Yuta stands there with a grin on his lips and looking like he always did, with an old band t-shirt tucked inside his bell bottom jeans. There’s just one thing. “You got a haircut.” Is the first thing you say, dumbly.

“Yeah.” He says, running a hand through his now blonde, almost white, hair that has the sides shaved. It’s very bold looking but it suits him.

There’s no chit chatting then, he just steps inside and hugs you like you haven’t seen each other in years. You let yourself drown in it, shoulders slumping as you arms circle his back and he hums pleased. “I miss you.” He mumbles against your hair before breaking the hug and looking at you with eyes that say a lot more than his words. “I’m a fucking asshole, right? I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “Yeah, you are.”

That makes him laugh. A laugh that’s comfortable and familiar as the way he walks inside your house, asking for you mother and pouting when he finds out she’s not there. Familiar as the way he walks into your teen bedroom and looks like he fits there just as much as you do when he plops down on your bed. There’s a feeling of nostalgia to it that he must feel too by the way his eyes roam to the poster covered walls.

You sit down on the bed next to him when he pats the empty spot, his hand disappearing inside his pocket and then he’s getting something out of it. “Got you a gift.” He says jiggling around what you now see is a keychain.

“Wow, how considerate of you.” You tease, getting it with your hands and examining the object. “Thank you, Yuta.”

“No biggie.” He shrugs but the way he watches as you swirl it around your hand tells you that he hopes you like it.

It’s one of those ‘I love NY’ keychains, and in your mind you know very well he didn’t go that far so he must’ve bought it in a random store, the fact alone bringing a grin to your lips. But where there was supposed to be a ‘N’, there’s a very badly done scratch so that it reads ‘I love Y” instead. You can’t help the giggle that forms in your throat. “I love Yuta?”

His smile is as wide as possible. “That’s right.” He doesn’t even try to play it cool. “Make sure you put it somewhere visible so everyone can see it.”

You shake your head laughing, but you still promise “I will.”

There’s a silence that follows, one that is filled with his eyes not leaving yours. This is it, you think to yourself, because you both already know it, would be impossible if you didn’t. Still you ask with a quiet voice. “Do you know why I keep writing all these love songs?”

“Yes.” He breathes out without missing a beat. A simple reply was all you expected.

“How long did you know?”

“For a while.”

And then. “Why did it bother you? That I kissed Taeyong?” You play with the hem of your skirt, pulling at a single line of fabric that was hanging from it.

There’s a small smile forming on his lips as he raises his pierced eyebrow at you.“You really don’t know why?” You do now, you both know that. And you wish you had known sooner, but right now you want to hear what he has to say. “Because I’m selfish and a fucking coward.”

His confessions carries all the meaning you need and there’s a few things you could say. But this is about you and it’s about Yuta, your best friend and the one that had been by your side all this time. The two of you didn’t need big gestures, words that would make someone tear up or any theatricals. It was simply how it was meant to be, just the two of you.

“I’m not.” Is what you say and his lips part.

“What?” He asks just to be sure.

“I’m not a coward.”

And then you kiss him, with a press of your lips to his that could as well just be saying how much you had wanted this, how you think you would go crazy if you never got to taste him like this. Because intimacy with Yuta was something you rarely gave yourself the luxury of thinking about, too scared that you would dig a hole deeper than it already was. But now, as his hands hold your cheeks and he pushes you closer, kissing you with just a hint of desperation, you let yourself drown it it.

He does it with expertise that you can’t possibly match and in the back of your head you feel slightly shy for it. Still, there’s no time to think about that when he deepens the kiss, moving your head a little so he can do as he pleases, sucking on your bottom lip and earning a soft noise that comes from your chest.

You don’t know what’s better, the hand he moves to your neck, the one that holds your thigh, almost dipping inside your skirt or how he looks at you when he breaks the kiss a little breathless. His eyes don’t leave your face as he massages the area where his hand is and you think you could melt completely. “Wanted to do this for so long.” He breathes out and your eyes never leave his now heart shaped pink lips.

Nodding in agreement, you mutter teasingly. “Took you long enough.”

He chuckles, pressing another quick peck. “Then I better not waste any more time.”

He kisses you first this time and it’s with purpose, his tongue licking at your lips until you finally give him what he wants. He draws every little noise you make with the way his tongue slides against yours and how he nips at your lips, kissing you deeper with every second he gets.

You feel overwhelmed, because for one this is new and something you never thought you would be doing, in your teen bedroom of all places. The fact that Yuta starts kissing down your neck only helps, his tongue tickling your sensitive skin before he closes his lips around it, sucking enough that it could leave a bruise. For everyone to see, you think, as he presses a small kiss to it afterwards and then moves to the next spot.

He treats you with as much delicacy as his desperation allow him, manhandling you so that you’re laying more comfortably in your bed and he can hover over you as he kisses you again.

You hate feeling small, but like this, with Yuta on top of you, it makes arousal bubble in your body. And when his hand moves to dip inside of your skirt, gripping at your thigh you let that arousal be known in the form of a surprised moan let out against his lips.

He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself as your glossy eyes stare up at him. “You’re so cute, baby.” You feel your cheeks warming up and you hate, as much as he seems to love it, that you’re acting like this in front of your best friend. “I could just eat you up.”

His words are followed by your lips forming a small ‘o’ and then by him kissing you again, this time not waiting to let his tongue move against yours in messy motions that make you crave more of anything he has to give you.

You don’t notice at first that he hands start to move again, but when he plays with the hem of your cotton panties you know that he’s not going to settle for that. It’s embarrassing how quickly you react when he presses his fingers to your covered clit, applying pressure to it and then giving a tentative roll. You cry as quietly as you manage and he watches as your eyes squeeze when he moves his fingers again.

You always had wondered how someone else's fingers would feel compared to your own and when Yuta finally, finally, dips his inside your panties, you are sure no fantasies could compare. He drags two of his fingers down to your entrance, feeling the embarrassing wetness that had gathered and bringing it up to your clit so the circling of his fingers is more pleasant.

He continues to watch you, eyes glued to your face as you let out all kind of noises and move your body as the hint of an orgasm makes your entire body tingle. You feel so close already that you wonder if he can tell.

His movements are slow, almost teasing, and when he kisses you again his tongue moves in the exact speed as his fingers, in a way that makes you clench around nothing. As if sensing that he shifts his hand, your body almost arching from the bed when he dips one long finger inside of you. If he didn’t know about the extents of your inexperience, he knows now with how your walls hug tightly just one of his fingers. The groan he lets out at the feeling is one of the prettiest sounds you had ever heard.

He moves his finger slowly, as if testing the waters and when he curls it just right you gasp at the new feeling. “There?” He asks with a grin and you just nod dumbly, biting on your lips enough to bruise.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if the other girls he had, had came this fast, because when he combines the thrusting of his curled finger to his thumb circling your clit, you feel enough to explode. Doesn’t help that he says his next proposition.

“Let me have a taste, hmm?” His words are muffled from where his lips are pressed on your neck and there’s a very clear mix of feelings that happen inside of your head. You cry out, clearly affected by the proposition and the mere thought of his wet lips against your warmth makes you clench around his fingers. He feels it, of course he does, because he lets out a small moan and grinds down on you a little, his hardness very much there. “Yeah?” He sounds breathless.

“I—I’m.” You gasp when he moves his fingers faster as if to entice you. But this is the extent of your inexperience, the mere thought of him eating you out makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t give in just yet. “I don’t… I-I’m not ready.”

Your voice sounds small but he doesn’t even blink at your denial, instead he kisses you deeply in reassurement. “It’s ok, sweet girl.” He presses down on your clit, giving you exactly the friction you need. “I’ll eat your pretty pussy another day.”

And then his fingers are moving faster, enough that it takes you no time to come with a loud moan that sounds a lot like his name and your hands gripping tightly at the bed sheets. You shake, body trembling as you try to ground yourself but the orgasm is too shattering.

When he removes his fingers from inside you, he licks then clean before moving your shirt upwards so your stomach is exposed. He moves to kneels between your open legs and you’re left confused until he starts unzipping his pants, asking a soft. “Okay?” To which you nod excitedly.

He doesn't ask you to do anything, instead he dips a hand inside his underwear, barely pushing the rest of his pants down as he pulls his cock free. It’s a sight that leaves you breathless, the way he thumbs at the head and smears pre cum around and when that’s not enough, his fingers move inside the mess of your panties, gathering your arousal and bringing it to his hardness in what is the most erotic view you had ever seen.

The first stroke is slow and he bites his lips, looking at you with a fucked out expression. “See what you do to me?” He asks in a groan and you nod in your little haze, eyes not knowing where to look at.

His strokes get quickly faster, with swirls of his wrist and it doesn’t take long for him to let out a strangled moan as he comes with thick spurts in your stomach. You watch it all in awe, the way he twitches in his palm and his eyes fight to stay open. It’s like suddenly you know why there are so many songs about sex.

Afterwards when you’re cleaned and laying on the bed lazily, Yuta plays an unknown melody on your old acoustic guitar with a little inexpertise, humming what you think is the start of a song still in the works.

The sun is about to set and you feel a weird sensation of contentment, a spark blossoming in your chest. You had kissed your best friend, done things with him that reached a level of intimacy you were still learning to navigate, but everything still felt the same.

“Doyoung told me you’re going to sign the contract.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

His eyes don’t leave the guitar strings. “Of course, can’t leave my own band.” He deadpans jokingly and you scoff, nudging him with your feet.

“What if they make us do songs we don’t want to?

“I’m sure you’ll scare them off with your attitude.” He laughs when you gasp, lurching at him but stopping because you couldn’t attack him properly with the guitar on his lap.

Noticing that, he smiles, one eyebrow raising at you as he lets the guitar down and opens his arms almost in a challenge for you to hit him. Which you do, playfully before you’re letting yourself fall putty into his chest. “I don’t have an attitude.” You whine.

He huffs. “Yes you do. But it’s very charming.”

Rolling your eyes you hug him closer, basking in the feeling of having him here with you and the comforting knowledge that he feels the same way you do. “Do you think we’ll be able to handle it? Fame and whatever else comes with it?”

“We were born for it, baby.” He says with a cocky grin, always overwhelmingly confident. “I told you, you and me, we can do anything we want together.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

❀

“Back to earth, pretty girl.” Yuta’s voice snaps you out of another daydream, some ideas for a new album and whatever else filed your mind these days. He sounds slightly demanding but you don’t mind at all.

“Sorry.” You mumble and he gives you a grin that you can’t help but match.

There’s the start of a melody playing in the big studio that was rented for the new album. Johnny says something and you adjust the guitar strap, feeling the familiar and comfortable weight of it as your fingers find the strings with ease.

You glance at Yuta another time and he’s still looking at you, mouthing something you can’t quite understand but by the silly smile on his face you know exactly what it is. “Love you too.” You mouth right back at him, shaking your head at his silliness.

And then the song starts.

❀❀❀❀❀

tag list: @jupitersmark @euphoricdreamies @peachybun-01

#yuta smut #yuta scenarios #nct smut #nct scenarios #i reread this last night and realized its not at all how i wanted it to be #it could be so much better :(#but i hope you guys still enjoy it

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Kids Have Terrible Timing (Biadore) - Sarcastacnt

Summary; One of Roy and Danny’s two daughters has a tendency to get over excited at the smallest things and at the worst possible time for her fathers.

“We can always return her right?”

“See, this is what happens when we trust your genes. Let’s take a second to notice how the spawn with my genes is basically a Saint compared to her sister.”

Danny pulled a face and whacked Roy with a pillow. “Not what you said when she ruin, how many of your gowns was it again? 9?”

“It was 15 and you know it.” Roy grumbled still puzzled at how the then five year old Sabrina had gotten a hold of the gowns, let alone figured out how to work his sewing machine. Something that still eluded Danny.

“Let’s just agree that they’re both evil in their own special ways.” Danny offered, trying desperately not to laugh at the pained expression on Roy’s face.

Roy snorted, “Not much longer until they go through puberty. That’s when we cash in all those offers to babysit from Shane.”

Danny groaned and flopped down dramatically against the bed. “Two teenage girls in one house. What the fuck were we thinking?”

Roy shrugged, “Probably that at least one of them would be a boy.”

Danny laughed, “At least then they wouldn’t bug to borrow our drag. Well, your drag.”

Roy laughed at the memory of the two dark haired girls gasping in disbelief at the room full of princess gowns and lumberjack clothing. “Still can’t believe how good that read was, fucking lumberjack.” He was still snickering when Danny decided he was no longer comfortable laying on the bed.

With a surge of power from his left leg he moved to straddle Roy’s hips. “You’re the one who married a lumberjack Haylock.”

Roy automatically dropped his hands to rest on Danny’s thighs. “You married a princess, least I’m still gay in this version of reality.”

Danny snorted, “Whatever, that makes you a princess, least I’m still a man.” He leaned forward and licked Roy’s neck before whispering in his ear. “Although every single time I’ve fucked you while you were dressed as a princess was hot as hell. You really should let me fuck you in drag more often.”

Roy let out a groan as Danny squirmed on his lap. “Why would I put a bunch of clothes on for sex? Doesn’t being naked make everyone’s lives easier?”

Danny began kissing Roy’s jaw, taking a familiar path down to the collar of Roy’s shirt. “I meant when we preform asshole.” He said as he started to work the buttons of Roy’s shirt open.

Roy rolled his eyes, “Because normally after we preform you’re so fucking horny that you beg to get fucked.” Roy brought both hands crashing down on Danny’s ass, “Remember?”

Danny started to kiss his way down Roy’s chest now that the button down was pushed open. “Fuck yeah I do.” He looked up at Roy, eyes gone a little glassy with arousal. “Speaking of which, it’s been quiet for almost an hour. We should probably take advantage while we can.”

Roy chuckled and began to tug at Danny’s shirt. “You’re absolutely right.” When Danny didn’t move to remove his shirt quick enough, Roy rolled them so he was on top. He quickly pulled off the light sleep pants Danny wore and began stroking the already half hard cock. “Doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?” he teased before taking Danny’s erection into his mouth.

“Never has.” Danny admitted before groaning at the very talented tongue that was quickly turning his brain to mush.

Roy held out his hand, without stopping the blow job and Danny reached blindly for the small bottle of lube on the nightstand. He pushed it into Roy’s hand before letting his head fall back against the pillows.

Wasting no time, Roy lubed up two fingers and pressed them into Danny. It only took a few thrusts before Danny was demanding that Roy ‘stop fucking around and put your dick in me!’. With such a sweet request, how could Roy refuse? He pushed his own sleep pants down and lubed up his erection before taking a second to tease Danny’s entrance.

“Fuck me Roy!” Danny demanded, his hips lifting off the bed in frustration.

“Fine, but next time we have time I’m gonna make you pay for being an Impatient bitch.” Roy said as he grabbed Danny’s hips and started to push himself inside-

“DADDY!!!”

*CRASH, SLAM, BANG*

Roy didn’t know how he did it but somehow he got both of them covered up under the blanket before 6 year old Stevie managed to scramble up on the bed.

“Stevie remember how we talked about knocking? And you’re not listening to me at all, are you?” Roy sighed as he swung his legs over the far side of the bed and pulled his pants up. Danny had no chance to pull anything on, Stevie was not only on the bed but sitting happily on Danny’s stomach.

“Daddy! I found something cool! You gotta come see this!” the little girl had a big grin on her face as she waved her hands in the air. Stevie’s grin was an exact match for Danny’s (pre lip injections, of course). In fact Stevie was the spitting image of Adore, especially on the odd occasion her fathers put her in make up. Not only was the physical resemblance strong but both Stevie and Danny were two of the loudest people Roy had ever met.

A quiet knock at the open door caught Roy’s attention. He looked up to see blue eyed eight year old Sabrina shaking her head in exasperation. “Sorry dad, I tried to remind her to knock but…” she trailed off with a shrug, gesturing to the excited noises coming from the bed as Stevie and Danny talked about something Roy couldn’t quite catch.

Roy chuckled, “It’s okay, I understand my love. What were you two doing anyways? I thought we said goodnight an hour ago.”

Sabrina walked around the bed, giving it a wide berth. She had walked too close to the bed once during a similar situation just in time for Stevie to launch herself off the bed (much to her fathers horror) and land on not only her feet but her sister’s as well. “I showed her a book.”

Roy ached an eyebrow, “Why is she so excited about a book.”

Sabrina made a huffing noise as she crawled up on the bed to sit next to Roy. “There were no pictures in it.”

“You’re telling me your sister is losing her mind over a book, without pictures?” Roy could feel his eye start twitching.

Sabrina nodded, “Are you sure she’s really my sister?” she eyed Roy suspiciously.

Roy sighed, they had this conversation every few weeks. “Yes Rini, you both have the same mother, remember?” Roy remembered the initial thrill when they discovered that the surrogate they had used for Sabrina was more then happy to take on another pregnancy for the pair when they decided to expand their family a year and a half later.

“Are you really sure? Did you check?” Sabrina grilled her father as she watched Stevie and Danny (who had managed to pull pants on while he was distracted with Sabrina) rush out of the room to get a look at this ‘amazing book’ that Stevie had discovered.

“Yes Rini I’m a hundred percent sure she’s your sister. Besides she acts just like Dad, doesn’t she? I promise she’s part of this family.”

Sabrina frowned, “Whatever. I’m gonna go make sure they don’t break my stuff.” She hopped off the bed, her long twin braids floating behind her as she stormed off after them.

Roy fell back into bed and began laughing uncontrollably. He had no idea which part of the last five minutes he found so funny. The interrupted sex, Stevie’s excitement over a book without pictures or Sabrina’s continued irritation that her sister was insane.

Tears were streaming down his face, high pitched giggles still escaping him and abdominal muscles cramping when Danny returned.

“She’s nuts.” Danny proclaimed as he flopped down next to Roy.

A minute later, Roy managed to get his laughter under control. “Was she really that excited over a book with no pictures?”

Danny nodded, eyes wide in disbelief. “War and Peace! I didn’t know books could get that big! That shit’s more complicated then anything I ever read!”

Roy nodded, “Katya was reading it last time her and Trixie were over with their hellspawns. She probably forgot it here.” They almost always used drag names when referring to Brian and Brian just to save themselves the confusion.

Danny snorted, “Least we had time to breathe between kids. I don’t know how they managed 3 at once! Like who even has triplets?”

“Trixie and Katya do, poor bastards. If two teenage girls seems like a nightmare waiting to happen, imagine three hormonal teenage boys. The structural damage alone may just bankrupt them! If those two weren’t bald already that’s what would finally do it. Trying to figure out how much to add to the budget for household repairs every week.” Roy mused, choosing to ignore the fact that while he and Danny did in fact have one less kid, one of said kids shared genetic material with Danny. Roy hoped, not for the first time that Stevie calmed down as she got older. Last thing he needed was one of his daughters proudly proclaiming to be a ‘messy slut’. The thought of the generally sweet (if loud) Stevie strutting around in a mini skirt and low cut shirt made Roy shiver in fear.

“We’re never gonna have sex again, are we?” Danny half heartedly complained, lacing his fingers with Roy’s as they looked at each other with tired smiles on their faces.

Roy released Danny’s hand and rolled so he was on top of his husband. “So dramatic.” Roy teased as he captured Danny’s lips in a breath taking kiss.

It wasn’t long before Danny was a moaning, begging mess under him. Roy sighed in relief as he entered Danny roughly, rather pleased with himself for the broken sound that tore itself from Danny’s lips.

“DADDY!!!!”

“I’m taking her back!” Danny proclaimed loudly as Roy pulled away from him and managed to get their pants back on before Stevie came flying into their room again. This time she was screaming something about the ‘coolest bug ever!

Wasn’t parenting fun?

A/N Thank you to the annon who requested a kid fic where Roy and Danny keep getting interrupted. Swore I’d never write one of these but hey, here we are! I’m also tempted to continue this but for the moment it stands alone.

The girls names; Stevie is named for Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac fame and Sabrina is name for an alternative name for a boat neck collar. I know nothing about fashion so that’s what a quick Google search pulled up.

As for the teasing each other about which kid has which genes, it doesn’t mean they love either kid less then the other. I think most parents like to harass their partner about who is responsible for which less desirable trait their off spring demonstrates. Like when Sarabi says to Mufasa in The Lion King “Before sunrise, he’s your son.”

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #adore delano #bianca del rio #canon compliant #parenting au #kid fic #married #fluff #almost smut #request fic #sarcastacnt

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mrs-hatake · 4 years

Text

train station shenanigans (1)

A/N: Helloooooo everyone!

As promised, here’s the first chapter/intro of the aizawa x reader fic based on my work life! This is 90% Self Indulgent so just a heads up!

Anyways, enjoy! :D

Ps, not proof read!

Se no!

Demo sonnan ja dame mou sonnan ja hora.

You groaned in protest at the sound of your alarm that blared under your pillow. With your eyes still closed, you slid your hand under your pillow and fished out your phone to quickly tap the stop function. The white numbers of the clock read half past seven in the morning. You let out a whine and cursed the day you applied for a job.

Once you had convinced yourself to stay awake and ignore the sweet calls of slumber, you unlocked your phone and checked your notifications. After spending about fifteen minutes on twitter, you chucked your phone behind on your bed and pushed yourself upwards. You yawned loudly as you stretched your limbs. Lazily, you exited your bedroom and slowly went down the stairs so as to not awaken your mother and baby brother.

Today was your first day back to work after the mandatory lockdown due to the spread of the new virus. Having a break from work was wonderful as you were able to spend more time with your family. It sucked that everything was closed and you weren’t going to lie, it was stressful seeing the death tolls on the news, but you had fun at home. And now that things had finally calmed down in Japan, it was time to return to work.

Despite your whines from earlier, you were honestly looking forward to work. It was fun being at home, especially when you had so much free time to binge watch all of your favorite shows, but that could be entertaining for so long before it lost its charm.

With a soft hum of some random song, you worked on making yourself breakfast. Nothing too fancy, just some frozen waffles that you shoved down the toaster and then later drizzled caramel on top. You moaned at the fluffy texture in your mouth, and briefly, you were reminded of your days in school. When it was the first day and your mother would be up early and making breakfast for you. You missed those days. Life was much simpler back then. You wondered if your baby brother missed the lively atmosphere while getting for school or not. When you swallowed the last piece of waffle, you washed the dish and utensils that you’ve used before heading back upstairs to shower and get ready for work.

You decided to wear a simple yellow sundress for work. The best thing about the company you worked in wasn't being strict with the clothes you wore. As long as they were modest and family friendly, they found no reason to implement a strict dress code. Your senior coworkers decided to stick with the traditional attire of dark colored business suits. As much as you loved black, you didn’t want to wear the dark color every single day.

After you finished dressing up, you applied light mascara and let your dark green, almost black, curly locks gently rest on your shoulders. Spraying some lavender scented perfume, you texted your mother that you were off to work. But not before you snuck into your brother’s room, brushed back his dark green curls and pecked his forehead.

It was strange seeing the normally crowded streets of Musutafu be so desolate. The vast streets that were once filled with cars, almost resembling a parade with its colors and soft purrs of the motors, only had four or five cars on each lane. It was almost unnerving how quiet the streets of Musutafu were. But no matter, at least now you didn’t have to worry about traffic. Sure, you took the bus to work, though it was still frustrating to be trapped in the middle of traffic while freaking out over being on work on time. Not that you ever had been late. You always managed to show up at least twenty minutes earlier than the intended time.

The smell of bleach and lemon wafted through your nose once you stepped foot into the modestly sized train station. Just like the streets of Musutafu, the train station was just as desolate. The buzz of passengers sizzled out to soft mummers. The sea of people shrunk to a puddle. And the cheery atmosphere became somber. It was depressing. Though that didn’t deter you. With your head held high, you went straight to your office that you would normally share with five other people. Due to the new government rule, however, employees who weren’t supervisors, managers or ceos will take shifts and return to work every other day. Meaning you only had to work with three other people today.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Was the first thing that greeted your ears when you opened your office door.

Your boss was...unorthodox. He had long wavy hair that he would put up in a messy bun. Grey circles could be seen under his eyes and a soft stubble peppered his chin and upper lip. If you could describe your boss, then you would use the adjectives: grumpy and sleep deprived.

“Good morning, Aizawa-san.” You replied with a smile. Though, at the remembrance of wearing a mask that was way too big for you and covered most of your face, you dropped the smile. Aizawa said nothing, only nodded his head and continued to type away on his computer.

As you sanitize your workstation and logged into your computer, your supervisor Yamada Hizashi, walked in and bellowed “Gooooooood morning my little ducklings!” You heard Aizawa groan under his breath and tried not to chuckle at his misery.

Aizawa and Yamada were childhood friends and coworkers. It baffled you at first when Nemuri, your co-supervisor, had mentioned it in passing. The two were extremely different. While Yamada was the bright sun on a summer’s day that humans longed for after a long and miserable winter, Aizawa was the moon that people sung praises to with his mysterious aura and charming personality. After working with them for a month, however, you could see how the two were best friends. They balanced each other out perfectly and would always bring out the best side of the other person.

“Must you be so loud so early in the morning.” It wasn’t meant to be a question but Yamada answered anyway.

“Yes, I must bless everyone with my beautiful voice.”

If he wasn’t in a work environment, you were certain that Aizawa would have smacked his head on his desk to end his misery.

A peaceful silence settled upon you and you awkwardly shifted in your seat. Neither Aizawa nor Yamada had instructed you with anything to do and you were starting to feel antsy. Just as you were about to excuse yourself to walk around the station, maybe get some fresh air, Aizawa cleared his throat and called your name. You sat up straighter in your chair and locked your eyes with his.

“Write a letter to the Council of Train Stations to approve the extension of payment fees deadline.” Instructed Aizawa before returning to face his computer.

Blinking twice, You wrote down what he said in your notebook and began working on the letter.

You worked in the administrative department of the train station. The company you worked with, All Might Train Station Management, was infamous in maintaining and developing the station. From managing stores, adding holiday decorations to conducting safety measures and promoting the best image of the station, those were among the many things that you will deal with for the next eight months.

Once you have submitted your letter, you inform Aizawa. Who just hummed at you in return, too absorbed in his own work.

This went on for two hours. Aizawa would ask you to write a letter, you wrote it down on your note and then typed it on your computer and submitted it. Sometimes, you would have to contact other employees from other departments to forward you files that you had to attach to your letters. It was stressful, but not unmanageable.

It was around twelve in the afternoon when Aizawa excused himself to meet with the president of the company, Toshinori Yagi. Shortly afterwards, Yamada also left the office to God knows where. A habit of his that you envied but would never actually do. Yamada had been working two years at the company so he had the privilege to take a break from work and wander around. Maybe someday you could do it too, but for now, You’re stuck in your office.

Noticing that none of them were returning any time soon, You took your wallet and made your way to the mini market for a cold beverage and some snacks. You didn’t want to eat lunch at work - not that you can anyways since the staff room was under maintenance - but you were starting to get hungry and you couldn’t work to the best of your potential with an empty stomach.

When you returned to your office, you spotted Aizawa back at his desk. Yamada was nowhere in sight. Quietly, so as to not disrupt your workaholic of a boss, you sat down on your chair and opened your bag of chocolate animal crackers and stabbed the straw into your mango juice box.

“You look like you’re in elementary school.”

Your head shot upwards at Aizawa’s comment and could feel your cheeks flushing with warmth and you were positive that they had turned a bright red color.

“Would you like some?” You blurted and instantly winced. It was no secret that you were an awkward person by nature and tended to blurt things out or ramble on when nervous. You tried improving that aspect of yourself at work, not wanting to embarrass yourself at work like you did in college. You wanted to be professional and taken seriously. But it was proving to be a challenge.

Aizawa appeared to be contemplating your offer, half distracted by whatever it was displayed in front of him on his computer. “Sure, why not.” He eventually replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Your heart beat in anticipation as you stood up and crossed the short distance between your desk and his. Your hand held out the yellow bag of animal shaped chocolate crackers and watched as Aizawa dipped his hand and fish out two crackers; a panda and an elephant. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Your reply was soft, almost a squeak. Aizawa just hummed in response and returned to type away at his keyboard. You briefly toyed with the idea of being as busy Aizawa, to the point of being unaware of your surroundings.

The rest of the day went uneventful. Aizawa didn’t ask you to write any letters and Yamada didn’t return to the office until half an hour before work ended. The loud blonde asked Aizawa if he wanted to join him for lunch later and you held your breath at what your boss was going to reply, the thought of him living a normal life outside of these four walls was almost unimaginable. “Yeah, sure.” Ah, to see Aizawa in a casual setting, a privilege that you have to work very hard for.

When it was two in the afternoon, you turned off your computer, signed your name on the attendance sheet and bid farewell to your colleagues.

“Goodbye, my little duckling!” You heard Yamada say behind you while Aizawa grunted a quiet ‘bye’.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #aizawa scenario #aizawa x you #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

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snifflyjoonie · 4 years

Text

Sick Day

In which Jungkook catches his co-worker Jimin’s cold from hell and learns that Kim Taehyung never takes no for an answer.

snz-centric with Jungkook as the sickie and Taehyung as the caretaker.

Word count: 3508

This is an AU that takes place in this established universe.

a/n: WOW I take forever sometimes I’m sooooorry! That being said, the patience is so immensely appreciated. I’m such a sucker for AUs, so I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also, I decided to make a little moodboard for this fic just for fun! If you guys like the concept, I might make more for future fics. Anyway, enough rambling! Thanks again for waiting so long for this, and I really hope you enjoy reading!~

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Jungkook gave a tight-lipped smile despite Jimin’s inability to see. The older boy’s voice was thick and croaky and Jungkook couldn’t help but feel for him as he switched his phone from his left ear to his right.

“Of course not.” He assured, his voice low.

Admittedly, he was a little irritated he wouldn’t be spending his day off how he had hoped — namely playing too much Overwatch for his own good — but Jimin never called in sick. In fact, Jungkook had been working with him the past few days trying to urge him to do just that. Now it finally seemed like he had decided to take the younger man’s advice.

“Okay...if you’re sure.” Jimin sniffled. Jungkook winced at how the noise gurgled in his ear. “Thanks, Gguk.”

“No worries!” He chimed. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Yeah.” Another sniffle. “Me too.”

Jungkook clicked off his phone with a heavy sigh and collapsed back onto his mattress. He loved his job, he really did, but there was just something about going in on his scheduled days off that left a sour taste in his mouth. Not that he blamed Jimin for that, of course. People got sick sometimes. Even people like Jimin who always tried to pretend everything was fine until they were so unbelievably stuffed up they could hardly breathe — let alone serve people food. Jungkook cringed at the thought.

He rolled himself over with another groan and glanced at his alarm clock. It was already half past eight meaning if he really planned to get up at 4am to open then he desperately had to get ready for bed. He wished Jimin had called him earlier, but deep down he knew the older boy had probably put it off in the hopes he would start to feel better. His heart went out to him, but he still made a mental note to hassle him the next time he saw him.

With another small huff Jungkook pulled himself from his bed and trudged his way to the dorm’s bathroom to start getting ready for the night. If he took a shower now then he'd get to sleep in just that much longer in the morning, and to Jungkook, that extra time was priceless. No matter how many open shifts he worked he swore he’d never get used to the shrill sound of his alarm pulling him back to consciousness while the rest of the world soundly slept. 4am was too early for anybody. Jimin was lucky he liked him.

The next morning, when the dreaded sound of his alarm pulled him from his dreams, Jungkook truly thought it was the worst sound he had ever heard in his life. For some reason, it just sounded worse this particular morning — more shrill, more irritating, more horrible. Each buzz and chime made his head pound in protest, and he couldn’t reach over fast enough to get it turned off.

With a half-asleep groan Jungkook pushed himself into a sitting position and cleared his throat into a closed fist. He lazily reached for his cellphone and squinted down at the bright screen, still not quite awake enough to comprehend anything he was seeing as he scrolled aimlessly through his social media. He vaguely registered a dull ache lingering behind his eyes and sniffled quietly against the back of his free hand.

He really needed to get moving or he was going to be late.

Throwing his legs over the edge of his bed, Jungkook trudged his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and throw on his uniform. He was a little slow-moving, but he simply chalked it up to staying up too late. He felt another twinge of annoyance about Jimin’s last minute phone call, but ultimately brushed it off. He wasn’t going to let himself dwell on it. Jimin really did look like death the last time he saw him and it was honestly a good thing he had decided to call in before someone else ended up in the same boat as him.

Jungkook coughed lightly. None of that really mattered now, anyway. He needed to pick up the pace.

He made a grab for his keys before rushing to tie his shoes. He debated hunting for his bus pass but ultimately decided against it after double checking the time. He wasn’t too far from the café to begin with and if he really hustled, he figured he might even have enough time to heat up a breakfast wrap before the first customers started trickling in.

Throwing a light jean jacket on to combat the chilly spring air, Jungkook stumbled his way out of his dorm room and down the steps onto the street. He hurried himself along with purpose and did his best to ignore the way his sinuses stung with each inhale of fresh morning air. He was feeling strangely groggy, more so than usual, and brought the back of his hand up to scrub absentmindedly at his nose. At least he’d soon be able to make himself a cup of coffee. That thought alone kept him going.

Rounding the last corner to the café Jungkook quickly fumbled around in his pocket for his keys. He pulled them out swiftly, ready to unlock the front door when the sudden urge to sneeze caught him by surprise. He sucked in a desperate breath and snapped down hard into his elbow, dropping his keys in the process as two rapid sneezes toppled their way out of him.

He groaned in annoyance and bent down to retrieve his keys, rubbing his nose aggressively into his sleeve as he did so. He always sneezed when he got to work — so much so that it became a running joke between him and his coworkers — but he hadn’t even stepped inside yet, so how could the smells be affecting him?

Jungkook shook his head and fiddled his key into the lock with a thick sniffle. He pressed his shoulder into the door and shoved hard, tumbling his way into the dark café. He did his best to hold his breath as he scurried into the back room, determined to not let the strong smells get to him. Of course, the moment he let himself inhale, the various smells quickly overwhelmed his sensitive nose and he pitched into himself with another pair of uncharacteristically messy sneezes.

“EESH’hiuu!’ huh’ESSHhiUu!!”

Jungkook rose back up with a groan as he flipped on the café lights. He pressed his nose into one of his sleeves briefly before wiggling himself out of his coat and throwing it onto a nearby hook. He sniffled hard, annoyed by how runny his nose was becoming as he headed back towards the front counter to start preparing for the inevitable morning rush. He allowed himself a few moments to whip up a cappuccino and toss a breakfast wrap into their warming oven.

Now that he wasn’t rushing to get to work, he was becoming increasingly more aware of how run down he was feeling. Granted, he was always a bit tired and groggy at the start of any opening shifts, but today just felt worse. He sniffled again and sighed at the sound it made. He just hoped that he’d begin to feel a bit more lively when customers started arriving.

The clock had yet to strike 7am before a line had already formed from the front counter to the door. Normally, Jungkook could handle these types of situations, and even liked them to a certain extent. He fed off of the adrenaline it gave him and enjoyed the rush he’d get as he made drink after drink. Today however, any type of adrenaline he’d normally get was instead replaced with anxiety as he occasionally messed up orders and ran behind.

He was in the middle of making his 12th latté of the morning when the overhead bell of the front door jingled, signaling to Jungkook that yet another customer was making their way inside. Too busy to look up, he tried to ignore the way his hands trembled as he did his best to pour steamed milk into some type of design for the incredibly patient customer. He sniffled thickly as he did so, feeling sweat accumulate behind his bangs. He was nearly finished — only had one more delicate pour to complete — when his breath began to falter. Without much warning, Jungkook scrambled to set the milk and latté down, spilling half of the drink’s contents in the process before he shoved himself backward and fell into his shoulder with a harsh, sudden sneeze.

“hHuh’EEKSHhh!—godi’msosorry…” His apology came out on his shuddering exhale as he hurriedly cupped a hand around his face and stared in horror at the drink he’d ruined. He was about to stutter out some sort of offer of compensation when a familiar deep voice caught his attention.

“Yikes, not on your game today huh, Gguk?” Taehyung chuckled lowly as he bustled his way behind the counter. All Jungkook could offer back was a dumb stare and a thick sniffle — he had forgotten that Taehyung usually worked mornings with Jimin.

Jungkook felt himself relax a little as Taehyung hastily slipped out of his coat and began to tie his apron tightly around his waist. He shot the disappointed customer a warm, boxy smile and immediately fell into his barista role with minimum effort.

“Sorry about that, ma’am.” He apologized as he mopped up the spilled drink with a towel, “I’ll get started on a new one for you right away.” He turned his attention to Jungkook briefly and gestured with his chin towards their espresso machine. “Gguk, would you mind pulling some shots for me, please?”

Jungkook nodded a bit dumbly again and scurried his way towards the machine with a sharp sniffle and a rub of his nose.

Now that Taehyung was here, the older boy was quick to take control over the stressful situation and Jungkook was just as quick to let him. They fell into a rhythm together easily, and before too long had nearly emptied out the café — much to Jungkook’s relief.

“I didn’t realize you were working today.” Jungkook murmured with a tiny sniffle as he topped off one final drink with a dollop of whipped cream.

“I could say the same about you.” Taehyung retorted a bit coyly as he popped a plastic lid onto a travel cup. “Though with how awful Jimin looked the last time I saw him then I guess I’m not too surprised.”

Jungkook hummed in response, but the sound was audibly nasally and rounded. Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

“Coffee beans still bothering you?” He asked as he set down a finished drink. “You’ve been here, what...two and a half hours? Three? Usually you’re good to go by now.”

Jungkook hummed again, this time with more uncertainty, and followed it up with a sniffle.

“I’m...not sure what my deal is.” He forced a tight smile at a customer approaching the counter to retrieve their drink before continuing. “My nose is just…”

Taehyung waited patiently for the adjective that was sure to follow. Stuffy? Itchy? Sensitive? When he heard none, he stole a glance at Jungkook expectedly, but what he saw made his face instantly soften.

“Hh! hA’KSHhhiuu!” Jungkook bent at the waist and caught his sneeze into cupped hands. He groaned almost immediately afterwards, but the sound was muffled by his palms.

“Sneezy?” Taehyung offered with a scoff before reaching out to place a hand briefly onto Jungkook’s back as a sign of acknowledgement. “You alright there, Bun?” He couldn’t help but ask as Jungkook snuffled against the back of his hand.

Bun was a nickname Jimin and Taehyung had branded upon him during his training days. As time went on, the nickname was used less and less (instead getting replaced by more ridiculous things like ‘Hulk Hogan’ and ‘The Muffin Man’) and only really came out on special occasions. Taehyung felt like now was one of those times. Bun was an easy way to set the tone, and he knew the younger knew this.

“Because…” Taehyung continued as he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m starting to wonder if Jimin gave you more than just his opening shift. You worked with him all week, yeah?”

“I…yeah.” Jungkook sighed as the realization dawned on him. It was riddled with the sound of defeat. “Shit. Goddamn it, Jimin.”

Taehyung snorted out a laugh and passed a napkin to Jungkook who very graciously accepted it. Taehyung watched him shake it open before bringing it up to his nose and blowing. He turned his body away from Taehyung slightly, but it didn’t do much to stop the productive sound from reaching both of their ears.

“I’m gonna call you an Uber.”

“Wait— you’re what?”

“I’m sending you home.” Taehyung’s tone left no room for argument as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. “What’s your address? You live in the dorms, right? The ones nearby?”

“I— well, yeah, but—” Jungkook shook his head in protest. “You don’t need to— gosh. I don’t want to leave you alone for your shift, it’s going to get busy again, and—”

“Gguk, who trained you?” Taehyung cut in, eyes still glued to his phone as he typed in the café’s address.

“...Jimin?”

“Yeah, and who do you think trained him?” Taehyung chuckled and re-pocketed his phone. “Your ride’s on the way. I’ll be fine, you need to go home. Can’t have all three of us sick, can we?”

Jungkook knew he was right and he hated it.

“I could’ve just walked…” He grumbled. He was slightly embarrassed and he didn’t know why. “How much do I owe you for the Uber?”

“Owe me?” Taehyung laughed. “You owe me one clean bill of health. How about that?” He reached out to poke Jungkook’s shoulder but the other swatted his hand away sheepishly. “Oh, come on, Bun. Don’t be like that.”

Jungkook frowned deeply and brought the knuckle of his thumb up to swipe against the underside of his nose. It was wet to the touch and made him grimace. Taehyung was quick to pass him another napkin.

Jungkook had every intention to thank him — not just for the new napkin but for everything he’d done since the moment he walked in — but the chime of the door stole away his opportunity. Snapping his mouth closed and shoving the napkin into his pocket, Jungkook made to step towards the register but Taehyung stuck an arm out to stop him.

“I’ll take it from here.”

“But—”

“You’re sick, Gguk.” There wasn’t much room for argument. “Did you bring a coat?”

Jungkook nodded slightly, and Taehyung almost missed it. Jungkook was refusing to make eye contact.

“Alright, go grab it — your ride shouldn't be long. Get some rest for me, okay?” He smiled and added a quick, whispered, “Feel better soon.” As the cafe’s new customer approached the counter.

Jungkook hesitated for only a moment as Taehyung happily began taking the order. He wanted to object again, to tell Taehyung to let him stay, but he knew deep down that the decision had been made, and there would be no way Taehyung would accept any other outcome aside from him going back home. With another sigh of defeat, Jungkook started to undo his apron and headed towards the back to retrieve his things.

He really owed Taehyung. He owed Taehyung big time.

“hA’PSSH’iew!—Shit.” Jungkook rocked to the side with a sneeze that made him fumble the controller held tightly in his hands. It wasn’t that drastic of a movement, but it was enough, and he watched in horror as his character on screen died dramatically. It wasn’t the first time this had happened (in fact, it had been happening all afternoon) but that still didn’t stop Jungkook from throwing his head back and groaning.

Sniffling sharply, Jungkook set his controller down beside himself and made a grab for the tissue box he had stationed in front of him. This had been a recurring cycle ever since he’d gotten home, and the used tissues littering the floor around him reflected that.

He blew his nose harshly, doing his best to empty it out completely before throwing the used tissue down with the rest of the pile (that he kept telling himself he’d deal with later). He was about to pick back up his controller and continue his cycle of sneezing and dying when a sudden knock at his door nearly made him jump out of his skin. He wasn’t expecting anybody, and for a split second wondered if he had maybe just been hearing things, when a second, softer knock sounded through his small dorm.

Jungkook stood up hesitantly and tightened the blanket he had wrapped around himself as he shuffled his way over to the door. He reached for the knob a little cautiously, and opened the door just a crack.

There, with a warm, welcoming smile on his face and a plastic bag held tightly in one hand was none other than Kim Taehyung. Jungkook had to fight every urge in his body to not slam the door closed out of sheer embarrassment.

“Hey, Bun.” Taehyung’s voice was just as warm as his smile, maybe even more so, as Jungkook felt his cheeks begin to flush red. “I thought I’d drop off some soup. It’s just from the café, but…” He shrugged. “My shift was over and I figured it was better than nothing. Are you feeling any better?”

Jungkook opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the right words. Instead, he ended up blurting out “HowdoyouknowwhereIlive?” Which most definitely wasn’t the right thing to say, but he was too far gone to stop himself. To his surprise, Taehyung threw back his head and laughed.

“You told me earlier, remember? When I asked?”

Oh. Jungkook thought. That’s right. He felt his blush deepen.

“I just texted Jimin to grab your room number. He feels awful, by the way.”

Jungkook winced. “You told him?”

“Sure did.” The older boy hummed back, shoving his free hand into his jacket pocket. “He asked why I was dropping by, so I told him. Was I not supposed to?”

“Oh, no!” Jungkook quickly shook his head. “No, it’s fine! I’m just...sure he feels bad.”

“Well, you know him. If he does, he’ll get over it.”

Jungkook nodded and the two fell silent for a moment before Taehyung lifted the bag of soup containers slightly into view.

“Anyway, can I come in? I can reheat this for you.”

Jungkook’s mind immediately went to his mountain of used tissues and he dropped his head with an embarrassed sniffle.

“My dorm’s a mess.”

“So’s mine. All part of the college experience.” He was smirking now, and Jungkook wished his blanket could turn him invisible. “If that’s your only reason to tell me no then I gotta say — that’s pretty weak.”

As he had slowly learned throughout the course of the day, when Kim Taehyung had made up his mind about something, there was no use arguing. Defeated, Jungkook stepped aside and let him in, desperately trying to push back down the increasingly nervous feeling that was starting to creep up his throat.

Taehyung reached out to ruffle the bit of hair that stuck out from beneath Jungkook’s blanket as he stepped inside. He immediately made his way into the kitchen like it wasn’t his first time over while Jungkook waddled along at his heels. He pulled himself out a seat and plopped down as Taehyung began to rummage around his cupboards for a pot.

“You didn’t have to do this.” He ended up murmuring as Taehyung emerged from a cupboard triumphantly, pot in hand.

“I know.” Responded the other as he popped open the containers of soup. There was a pause like he intended to say more, but instead he just began to dump the contents of the containers into the pot.

“Well, I...thank you.” Jungkook uttered after a moment, bringing up a corner of his blanket to scrub into the side of his nose. “I appreciate it, Taehyung. Really.”

The older boy looked over his shoulder and smiled, and Jungkook was surprised to find a blush sitting high on his cheekbones.

“Hey,” His deep voice was smooth and sweet like melted chocolate. “Don’t mention it, Gguk. Now—” He gestured with his chin towards the television in Jungkook’s living room where his game’s loading screen continued to play on an infinite loop. “Why don’t you pick out a movie? I could stay to watch with you once the soup’s done? Only if you want to, of course.”

Jungkook smiled. He couldn’t help it. Maybe taking a sick day wasn’t so bad, after all — especially if he got to spend it with someone like Kim Taehyung.

“That sounds great, Tae. Action or comedy?”

#bts sickfic #sick!jungkook #mine #bts au #i'm a little nervous about this one so i hope it was worth the wait #bts snzfic #bts snz

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ducavalentinos · 3 years

Note

Is Meyer's book on The Borgias subtitled 'Hidden History' or is that another book lol I want to make sure I get the right one (Meyer's is good, right?)

Yes, it’s the same book, anon. Is it good? I mean, it has its issues like any other bio. Personally I don’t think Meyer did a good job where Cesare, Lucrezia, and their sibling relationship are concerned. He doesn’t challenge much of the official narratives and assumptions made about their characters and lives, not like he does with Rodrigo. I don’t think they were his point of interest, either. Indeed, it’s easy to see his interest, his focus were on their father, Rodrigo, and his papacy as Alexander VI. I’ll put my thoughts under keep reading because idk if you are reading it now, and I don’t want to impose my conclusions about his work without you having formed your own first, so if you like you can check the rest after you’re done reading, or you can check it now, it’s your choice ;)

He is a diehard fan of Rodrigo, more so than previous scholars I think, although I’m still less of an expert on Rodrigo’s historical literature. So naturally, he tries his best to give him justice, and to set the record straight in regards to his reputation as Pope. I believe he follows De Roo, and the phenomenal work about Rodrigo and his family, published in 1924 iirc. I think it was Meyer’s intention to make De Roo’s research, and his great questionings more easily available towards a general audience, since De Roo’s work is very scholarly, very long and not so easy to find. And I understand what he was trying to do, I appreciate his effort, at least he tried to deliver something new, I just don’t think it worked out that well tbh. Because no matter how strongly you may disagree with De Roo’s interpretation of Rodrigo, some even call him an apologist (which he certainly was not imo), there is no denying his arguments are all incredibly well constructed. He meticulously exposes all of his evidence for his claims and conclusions. He gives the reader a pathway for his thought process. Meyer often does not offer evidence for his claims and conclusions about Rodrigo, much less about Cesare, Lucrezia, and other popes lol, nor he tries to explain his thought process at all. You have to guess, or just take his word for it, which always gets a big no no from me. And that leads to many confused moments, and contradictions on his part. It gets messy from time to time and you have to check other sources. He also goes about the wrong routes when trying to give Rodrigo justice. His tactic is basically: I’ll attack and blame anyone around Rodrigo, esp. Cesare, in order to acquit him. Cesare has to be thrown under the bus, again, (as he always is by all sides btw) in order for Rodrigo to get his rehabilitation. He is the “dark force” working behind his father, forcing him to do his will. Which not only it’s laughable, it’s also truly unfair to Cesare as it is for Rodrigo himself. He was not a Sixtus IV. He was and remain the patriach of the family until the end. And in the same way he doesn’t deserve to still be remember as one of the worst Popes in history (quite contrary actually) Cesare also doesn’t deserve to be everyone’s scapegoat, and still remember as this evil tyrant, or Renaissance’s villain. Or perpetually as Machiavelli’s Prince, with all its negative implications attached to it. The latter which, whether Meyer intended or not, he certainly feeds into it and helps to perpetuate. In addition, this narrative doesn’t help in understanding Rodrigo and Cesare’s complex and amazing relationship. It completely ignores the fact they mostly worked together, and their interests were very much interwined. That they were one of the most remarkable, powerful duo of this period. One that made the whole of Italy tremble in envy, anxiety and hatred for their accomplisments. Understanding their dynamics has a direct link to understanding one of the key factors of how the Borgian myths came about, and it was a missed opportunity for Meyer, sadly. De Roo seems to have understood this better, unlike other Rodrigo scholars I’ve read, he miraculously tried to be fair to both father and son. Giving them a honest, equal treatment. He does not see the need to attack nor blame others to justify Rodrigo’s behavior. He prefers to simply insert the man within his historical and social context, and let the evidence do the talking. Only pointing out what’s malicious gossip with its political agenda behind it, and what’s hostile and uncredible sources. Had Meyer followed these routes and approaches of De Roo here, instead of not offering historical evidence to back up his claims, and letting his bias go unchecked, his book would have been better imo. As it is, it’s ok. Definitely better than Bradford’s bios for example, (not a hard thing to accomplish tbh, but still lol) or the other more popular, generic bios about the Borgia family. The same caution needs to be applied though, when it comes to Rodrigo’s family, as well as other people outside his family. Meyer is accurate about the lords of the Romagna in general, but not so much about other Popes. He tends to be a bit too harsh and dishonest about them and their papacies, again, in order to rehabilitate Rodrigo. Other good aspects for me about his book were his treatment of Juan Borgia, he was possibly the least venomous one, that I've read. Dealing with him more fairly than others, at least acknowledging we don't actually have a lot about Juan to make so many claims about his character. And I adored the way he constructed the book, with chapters about Italy in between the ones about the Borgia family. It was the hightest point for me. It was a nice, creative addition, that allows you to understand the political and social context of the time the Borgias were borned and lived in. If you already know these things, it’s still very enjoyable to read it. Meyer, like the majority of Borgia scholars, is clearly a skilled writer. I really wish he would write a bio about the Catholic Church and Italian politics from the 11th to 16th century. I think he would thrive there.

#ask answered #anon ask #auth: g.j. meyer #rodrigo borgia #cesare borgia #house borgia in history

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lollercakesff · 4 years

Text

It’s Sticky

A fic for @fulcrumstardust and her slime prompt. Rated: Explicit Word Count: 5,200

“I just - I don’t understand the pleasure in it,” Cassian’s voice, distinctive but muffled by the thin dorm walls, makes Jyn look up from her coding homework and focus her attention on the conversation filtering through the vent overhead.

Kay, the student who lived next door to her dorm room, had introduced them passively after Cassian had tried to be the good friend and return the drunken man to her room after one too many drinks a few weeks ago. Apologetic, he’d dragged Kay down the hall one more door and cursed when he’d discovered the man had lost his keys.

“Let me,” Jyn states, watching the struggle and trying to disguise her laughter as Cassian swears a string of expletives in Spanish. She ducks back into her room for a moment before returning to the hallway with a sock in hand.

“I don’t think that’ll solve his lost keys problem,” Cassian grumbles, desperately trying to steady Kay against the wall.

“It’s what’s in the sock,” Jyn returns and stuffs her hand inside. When she pulls it back out, Cassian frowns at the bits of metal with confusion.

“Hair pins?"

Jyn shakes her head. "Lock picks. Move over a bit,” she orders and then begins fiddling with the lock. Cassian’s just about to tell her not to bother when she hears the click of the lock and the door pops open an inch. “Got it.”

“Where’d you - pendejo, por favor,” he grunts and counters the tall man’s tipping weight with his own to keep him from crumbling to the floor.

“I’ll let you get him to bed,” Jyn whispers and Kay chooses that moment to swing his hand between them.

“Cassian Andor - Jyn Erso. She’s chaos. Don’t engage her,” Kay warns and Cassian snorts.

“Yeah well, she might be chaos but she just saved your ass so be less of a dick about it. Thanks - I gotta get him inside - ”

“Yeah. No problem. Night,” Jyn bids and disappears back into her room, ignoring the struggle happening through the wall with a half-smile on her face.

Since that night, she’d tried to keep her ears from popping up whenever she managed to discern his accent through the walls but she was losing the battle. Big time. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Cassian was attractive - even when flushed from the drink - and Jyn had kept an eye out for him as the pair moved through the halls and elevators of the dorm ever since. Even though he was good looking, and even though his voice made her insides tighten, she’d tried not to interject herself into their path because the banality of Kay’s conversation was not worth a passing acknowledgement from his friend, no matter how good his gaze felt grazing over her skin.

And she’d felt it, no lie about it. She’d felt it quite a bit.

Tonight though, her coding project just wasn’t working and she was desperate for a distraction. So eavesdropping it was.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Kay returns evenly and Cassian snorts.

“It doesn’t feel natural. It’s too… Moist, or something.”

“It’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t understand why you don’t like it. Is it the texture?”

“No, I mean, it’s soft and weirdly warm - ” Jyn nearly chokes, trying to discern just what they were talking about. Pleasure, moist, warm… her cheeks heated. Surely that’s not - “ - but it’s also slippery. It’s weird - ”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” Kay scolds. “How do you not know how to describe it? You’ve touched enough by now - you’re no virgin!"

Cassian laughs, a deep belly laugh, and Jyn widens her eyes in silent surprise. Were they really talking about this? What was it, a rating game for pussy? If it was, she was pretty sure she did not need to be listening to this. The last thing she needed was to picture Cassian - or worse, Kay - evaluating women’s vaginas.

"But the folds of it. It’s almost ridiculously designed. Like, why have it look like that and feel like that? What’s the point?”

“Because it’s fun. Have you ever watched it up close on camera? People love the way it shines when it’s wet. And if you stick your fingers in it then it starts to get more slick.”

“That’s fucking gross, Kay,” Cassian chuckles. “Look, I get it, but you know other people are wanting to shove other things in it?”

“Now who’s being gross?” Kay grumbles, disappointed.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the desire to touch it like everyone else. It’s messy and if you do it wrong it can get really sticky and that’s just not my thing.”

“Fine. I’ll have to find someone else to compare them with.”

Jyn couldn’t handle it anymore, her whole body flushing with the words. She couldn’t believe they were talking about this - about putting it on camera, no less. And things being sticky. Like, what? She hadn’t pictured Kay the type to disparage women’s bodies - hell, she had assumed he’d never even been with a woman - but here they were talking about how gross they were. And Cassian… though she barely knew him, the idea of it still stung. He’d seemed nice enough but now that she knew he was going to discuss her labia in detail with Kay, suddenly the idea of returning those subtle half-smiles and appraising glances was not as tempting.

Sighing, Jyn turns back to her project and leans her head in her hands, miserable and annoyed with how the evening had turned.

———-

A month passes and Jyn keeps her head down, awkwardly trying to avoid Kay and Cassian whenever she sees them in the building. It’s hard - they seem to be everywhere - but eventually she runs into him and can’t escape during a floor party right before the Reading Week break.

“Mind if I sit here?” Cassian says, pointing to the vacant seat beside her. Jyn looks around at the others and finds no saviours, shrugging in acquiesce towards him. “Thanks. How’s it going?"

"Peachy,” Jyn replies and takes a gulp of her drink, cringing as the vodka stings the back of her throat.

“Same. I haven’t seen you around lately. Were your midterms killer? I near drowned under all of the papers I needed to write.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” He gives her a pointed look and raises his glass to his lips, letting the silence stretch between them.

She debates getting up, abandoning her prime people-watching spot on the couch, before one of the bros from down the hall stumbles down onto the other side of her, his body knocking into her arm and spilling her drink all down her front.

“Mother fucker,” Jyn groans, pulling the wet fabric from her chest. Beside her, Cassian curses and it’s then she sees that the impact has cascaded to him as well, his blue drink soiling his shirt and pants.

“I concur,” he growls and reaches across her to push the kid away. When the bro looks back to challenge her, Cassian lifts up his finger and wags it sharply, puffing himself up and intimidating the kid with just one look. Within seconds they’re left sitting on the couch in a wet mess of vodka and Kool-aid mix.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to knock your drink too,” she mumbles, getting to her feet. Cassian follows and tosses his cup towards the trash, sighing.

“Not your fault. Just means I gotta head home early.”

“Can’t Kay get you a new shirt?” She questions and the laughs.

“He’s filming something in his room. There’s no way I’m interrupting that,” he adds.

“Alright well - I could give you one of my brother’s sweaters. He leaves them here all the time. It would at least get you home?” She offers with a tentative smile. Cassian brightens, his brow rising in surprise.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind,” he says with a grin. Jyn nods and tucks her chin, motioning out of the common area and towards her room.

Minutes later and they’re standing in her small space, Cassian’s eyes scanning the bedroom with a calm interest. She busies herself digging through her closet and pulling out some of Bodhi’s larger sweaters before handing them to Cassian. Next, she turns to her dresser and pulls out one of her old t-shirts, turning back to face him. The move catches him shirtless, her mouth going dry as she takes in his exposed skin, thin torso and lithe muscles.

“Sorry!” She squeaks, twisting back to face the wall quickly.

“It’s no big deal,” he mumbles as he pulls the fabric over his head. She spares one last glance at his disappearing ‘V’ before she hurries and tears her shirt off to replace it with the new one. In another second she’s unclasping her stained bra and pulling it through the sleeves, tossing it into the laundry hamper near her bed. When she turns back around to face him, she finds Cassian staring at her, his cheeks flushed and his knuckles white as they grasp the fabric in his hands. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to - It’s just - ”

“Nothing I didn’t already see on you,” she manages softly. Their eyes lock and she swallows, the spark from their initial meetings rekindling into a bonfire.

No. Remember what he said! Her brain screams, recalling the overheard conversation and how disgusted he’d been by the women he’d been with.

“Did you maybe, um, want to go get something to eat?” He asks after a drawn out second, hands on his hips. Jyn swallows and clenches her hands together before wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” she answers. Cassian’s hopeful expression dims and he nods, stepping towards the door.

“Alright. No worries, I get it."

"It’s just,” she pauses, turning around to look at him as he reaches for the door handle. “I heard you and Kay a few weeks ago and I’m not comfortable being one of the conquests you seem to find so disgusting. And I’m definitely not into the taping thing so…”

“Excuse me, but what?” He nearly chokes on the words, his face paling. “What conversation are you talking about?”

“The one where you were grossed out by women’s genitals. You said they were weird and you guys were having a pretty good laugh over it - ”

“Jyn - I don’t know what you think you heard, but that definitely wasn’t it. I’ve never - not once in my life - discussed sex with Kay. If you haven’t noticed already, he’s a bit tough to have those types of conversations with - ”

“But you said he was filming - ”

“He makes YouTube videos. Slime ones. He makes me test out all of the different types and they’re pretty disgusting - ”

“Slime?” Jyn breaks in, confusion filling her brow. Cassian laughs and pulls out his phone, toggling the screen through search and the apps before he pulls up a video.

The screen fills with Kay in a faux laboratory, the video walking through quick steps on how to make the newest batch before he runs the audience through a variety of displays. She remembers watching a video like this before, on another app, and being engrossed in the way the slime moved and shined like a liquid that somehow existed at the same time as a solid.

“So you guys were talking about slime, not WAP?” Jyn jokes, glancing up at Cassian who somehow manages to turn an even more vibrant shade of red.

“Yes."

"Which means you don’t find, er, sex with women gross after all?"

"Do you think I’d be in here trying to ask you out if I did?” He counters to her nervous laugh. Cassian grins down at her, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

“Right. That means you’re not weirded out if I do this?” She asks and reaches up on her toes to brush her lips against his. He freezes for a moment, unresponsive, before suddenly he’s reaching his hands out to grab her waist, one hand lifting up to cup her chin.

Jyn groans because she can’t handle his returning enthusiasm, his tongue grazing the seam of her lips and slipping inside. The whole kiss catches her off guard with how good it is, his chest pressing into hers and his teeth nipping gently when she has to break away to gasp for breath.

“And to think I almost kicked you out,” she says against his lips, her breath heaving as his body shakes with laughter in her arms.

“I can’t believe you thought we were talking about that,” he replies. Jyn shrugs and meets his gaze with her own.

“I only caught bits of it. The walls are pretty thin, you know. It’s easy to think you’re hearing one thing when you’re not.”

“Really? So if we - and not saying we need to - but if we got up to anything, your neighbours would probably hear it?” He counters thoughtfully, his thumbs grazing the skin of her hip from where her shirt has ridden up.

“There’s a pretty good chance Kay would definitely hear,” she states and lets her nails graze through the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes alight and she thinks she’s definitely never felt a warmth like this spread through her, the burn of want flaring up in her belly. Stars, how was he this attractive?

“Would you, perhaps one day, want to test that theory?” He whispers, his voice cracking almost like he wasn’t sure he could get away with asking it. Jyn grins like a cheshire cat back at him and raises a brow.

“Could that one day be now? I’m still not 100% sure I believe that you weren’t talking about women’s bits,” she jokes. Her gaze catches the visible swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing and his fingers tensing against her skin before his thumbs slip into the band of her pants.

“Well, I’ll just have to prove it to you,” he replies and ducks his head to kiss her once more.

The kiss is intense, his mouth exploring hers as he guides them across the room until her back is pressed against the wood of the door. She drops a hand to the lock and flicks it closed as Cassian lets a small approving sound escape his throat. In another second he’s reaching for her knee, pulling her leg up to wrap around his hip so he can grind himself against her. The angle is awkward, just missing contact where she wants him most, and so she wraps her arms around his neck and drags him close enough to pin her so that she can lift her other leg and not fall to the floor.

“Mierda,” he hisses, dropping his hands to her ass to more fully support her. She gasps into his mouth and tangles her fingers in his hair, nipping her way along his chin to his ear and neck. Cursing into her skin, Cassian squeezes her butt and backs away from the door, walking determinedly towards the bed and dropping her onto it.

Together, they tear the clothes from their bodies in a rush, shirts and pants thrown to the floor until they’re clad only in their underwear. Jyn lay sprawled across her mattress as Cassian stands at the foot of her bed, his gaze appraising.

“How could I find someone like you unappealing?” He murmurs thoughtfully, pausing as she sits up on her forearms to look at him, naked from the waist up.

“A lot of guys do. They’re so focused on their own enjoyment that they won’t even bother to give any effort. You wouldn’t be the first - “

“Well, I’m not them. May I?” He asks softly, reaching his fingers into the elastic of her underwear. Brows furrowing, Jyn meets his gaze head on.

“You don’t have to. I mean, I’m clean and everything so if you want, I’d be okay with just a good dicking down,” she counters on a false laugh, knowing perfectly well how college hook-ups were supposed to go. She wouldn’t hold it against him if he was only interested in getting his dick wet - he wouldn’t be the first and he wouldn’t be the last to disappoint her, she was used to it by now.

“I’m clean too. I wouldn’t be okay with it though - I don’t want to just use you like that. But I won’t force you if you don’t want - “

“Oh,” she pauses, confused by his sincerity and the burning look in his eyes. He looked thirsty, like a man finding an oasis in the desert. “I mean, I won’t tell you not to, if you want to, that is. But you don’t have to is what I’m saying.”

“I’ll be clear then - I want to go down on you. I want to taste you,” he adds and the rasp in his voice makes her believe it more than anything else in this world. She feels herself get even wetter, if that was even possible, as he watches her slow nod of disbelief. Dragging his knuckles along her legs, Jyn helps him discard the underwear before she moves to climb back further on the mattress. He shakes his head and tugs her knees, pulling her to the edge of the bed before settling down before her. “If you want me to stop at any point, just say the word. Don’t be afraid to show me what you like - I’m an honour student. I learn quickly,” he adds and Jyn can’t help the burst of laughter that escapes her at his words.

“Of course you are,” she manages and she’s about to follow it up with another quip but is cut short by his mouth between her legs, his nose bumping against her clit and his tongue - gods, his tongue - dipping and licking at her folds. She nearly chokes as the feel of it burns through her, her brain shorting out as he moves and experiments with his strokes.

She never - well, not never - but never this good - has had a man go down on her with such gusto. His attention to detail - the way he returns to the best spot after listening to her moans - and the way he holds her hips to keep her from rolling away from him when it becomes almost too much makes her see stars and she quickly finds herself racing towards the precipice. Her nails dig into his wrists, her knees tightening against his shoulders, as he runs her up one side of the mountain before guiding her slowly back down. When his fingers join his mouth she almost screams, the way he presses against a spot inside her making dots appear in her vision. It feels too good, so insanely good, that she can’t help tipping over the edge and curling into herself as he drags out her orgasm for another drawn minute.

“Fucking hell,” she growls, her throat raw and her body mush as his lips press kisses across her thighs, over her hip bone and across her stomach.

“Do you still think I find women’s genitals gross?” He asks softly, glancing up towards her with a quirk in his brow.

“Was all that just to prove me wrong?” She counters, challenging him lowly and keeping her eyes closed as the last jolts of her release roll through her.

“I said I was going to, didn’t I?” He chuckles.

Jyn shakes her head and reaches for him, hands grappling at his shoulders and tugging him upwards. He goes slowly, his mouth trailing across her skin and leaving gooseflesh in its wake. It’s almost too slow, she thinks, as he finally reaches her chest and mouths at her breast, the twinge of it flashing hot and sharp between her legs. He was going to kill her with his attention. She was going to die and he was going to ruin every man for her after this.

Unless… She runs her fingers through his hair as he draws her nipple into his mouth, her fist clenching as he gently bites it then laves it with his tongue. The sensation makes her body hum and she turns the tables on him, pulling his hair and rolling her hips to force him onto his back. It seems to catch him off guard and he looks up at her with wide eyes, his lips turning up in the hint of a dangerous smile. Straddling his waist, Jyn runs her hands over his chest to push him flat onto his back, her head cocking to the side as she evaluates him.

“Is it my turn now?” She murmurs, nails grazing the hair on his chest and following the trail down to the crux of his hips.

“Be my guest,” he answers gruffly to her returning smirk.

Not wanting to delay any further, she snakes her way down his torso, her mouth dragging across his skin until she’s kneeling at the edge of the bed. She makes quick work of releasing his length from his boxers, tossing the fabric to the side and palming him with her hand. His hips buck up into her grip and she gives him a slight squeeze, revelling in the way his breathing skips a beat.

“This okay?” She asks, running her hand up and down his shaft. Her breath coasts over his skin and he groans, his fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“I won’t last long if you’re not careful,” he breathes tightly.

“S’okay. I like the challenge.” He hums his response and she dips her head to take him in her mouth, his frame practically vibrating below her. Small beads of pre-cum spill from his tip and she lets her tongue dart out to grab them, the taste of him causing a thrill to run through her. Was this what he felt only moments ago? No wonder he’d been so enthusiastic - the power and the desire of it was near throwing her brain into overdrive.

Continuing on her efforts, Jyn moves her mouth and hand in tandem for another few moments, listening for his cues and reacting to the approving little groans and the tightening of his fingers in her hair. Just when she thinks she’s found the best pattern, his hand drops from her hair to his length and he squeezes his fingers around his base, his other hand guiding her face back away from him.

“Did I - ?” She asks, looking up at him as he clenches his eyes shut.

“No,” he grunts, breathing deep gulps of air into his lungs. “Too good. I almost came.”

“Oh,” she whispers, trying to hide her satisfied smile. “I wouldn’t have minded if you - “

“Don’t say it. I’m trying not to cum and if you finish that sentence I’m not sure I can hold it together and fuck you like I want to,” he grumbles and Jyn nearly laughs, holding her breath and pulling back and away from him so she can lay beside him as he fights his way back from the edge.

“Well, how do you usually calm yourself down? Should I talk about Kay? Or the slime? Would that help?” She asks, running her hand across his chest. He shakes his head and releases his cock from his grip, his eyes turning to look over at her.

“I don’t want to back off that much,” he replies evenly, his breathing still heavy as his gaze flickers over her. She smiles softly then, appreciating the heat in his expression and the tenderness that seems to hide in the crinkles of his eyes. She could get lost in him, if she wasn’t smart about it.

“Cassian,” she starts, measuring her words as his body slowly relaxes next to her.

“Yeah?” His voice is gravelly and it sends small bursts of want to her core, her hand slowly drifting back down his belly.

“Can I fuck you now, or do you want - “

“Jesus, Jyn,” he responds and reaches for her, hands desperate as he pulls her to his chest and his lips find hers. The kiss is bruising but she lives for it, giving as good as she gets as she throws a leg over his hips and straddles him once more. She pulls away to reach for her drawer, stretching and trying to focus on grabbing a condom as he sucks her nipple into his mouth. The pressure is thoroughly distracting and when she settles back on her knees she barely has time to reset herself and open the packet before his fingers are circling her clit. It feels too good and she crumples forward, her forehead resting against his chest as he dips a finger inside her. “You’re so wet for me already. I love feeling how turned on you are. It’s nothing like the slime that - “

“I swear to god, Cassian,” she grumbles, laughing and pulling back to catch the grin on his lips. She reclaims his mouth for a kiss and in her distraction he grabs the packet from her fist and tears it open, rolling the rubber down his length in one smooth motion.

One second she’s sitting atop him, the next she’s swung onto her back, his body trapping her against the bed as he settles between her thighs. She can’t stop kissing him. Won’t. Not as he slides his length against her slit, not as his palm runs up beneath her knee, guiding her open for him. When he presses into her, bit-by-fatally-slow-bit, she finally breaks and cries out, clinging to his shoulders and gasping against his neck.

“Fuck,” he hisses when he’s finally buried deep within her, his breath panting into her shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.” She nods because forming words is impossible. Instead, she rocks her hips up and feels him stutter and clench his hands, his forehead pressing against hers. “Give me a second, por favor.” She nods because she needs it to, her body slowly adjusting to the size of him within her walls.

Eventually, he does start to move and Jyn feels herself tumbling, head over heels down into pure lust for him. Her mouth barely leaves his skin and her heart races, desperate to keep up as he begins to thrust earnestly into her. Each collision leaves her breathless, her body on fire as he rests her leg in the crux of his elbow. Sweat prickles at their brows and when he falters, his throat releasing a small sound, Jyn only holds onto him tighter as his pace picks up. She is right there on the edge of her orgasm when he cries out, a guttural sound that has him pushing himself in to his hilt, his arms desperately grasping at her and pulling her close. He cums with his mouth on her throat, one hand in her hair and the other wrapped around her shoulder, holding her to him.

She’d been so close.

So fucking close.

The disappointment starts to flicker to life but is quickly stomped out when his hips jerk and his mouth moves up her neck to her lips, the deep kiss joined by a shift in his body. His hand drops from her shoulder to between their frames, easing its way down until his fingers are sliding against where they’re joined and then working back up to her clit. He circles her once and she keens, exploding back to life as her release comes back into reach. Rotating her hips up, Jyn writhes herself against him, riding what remains of his erection and his hand, desperately seeking the relief he is determined to give her. When she falls apart again it’s with a sharp yelp, the orgasm slamming into her and causing her to clench around his softening length. He slips out just as her body is relaxing back into the bed, boneless and spent, before he flops down next to her.

Together they lay in exhausted silence, their breaths slowly easing and their flushed, sweaty skin drying in the cool air of the room as they both stare at the ceiling.

“So,” Jyn says after her heart rate has once again returned to normal. “Was I better than slime? Or is that still your preferred method of getting off?”

“I’m pretty sure we determined early on in this conversation that slime is not something I’m into,” he chides in return, glancing towards her. She’s just about to make a quip about it when his phone buzzes, his brow raising in challenge. “What do you want to bet that’s Kay right now?”

“He wouldn’t - what did you tell him?” Jyn asks sharply, sitting up and looking at him with a terrified expression.

“Nothing! I just asked him to keep an eye out if you were dating anyone. He’s probably texting me to complain about all the noise you just made - “ She slaps his chest and he laughs, grabbing her hand and holding it. “ - And how you ruined his video. I’ll have to get you a copy of the b-roll, just to see how thin these walls actually are.”

“I don’t - if I was dating anyone? Why would you want him to spy on me?”

“It wasn’t spying, per se. But if you were happily with some other guy, well, I wasn’t going to make it awkward for you where you live by asking you out. Figured if he did a bit of recon first we could all avoid the situation.”

“Okay, fair. Get your phone - I want to see our review,” Jyn urges and Cassian laughs, rolling to the edge of the bed and grabbing for his pants. He pulls out his phone and plants his feet on the ground, opening the screen to the message which is indeed from Kay.

She’s loud and inconsiderate of others. I stand by my earlier assertion that she’s chaos. You really shouldn’t have slept with her - Kay, 10:28pm

Jyn snorts as she reads the message over his shoulder, resting her chin on his collar. “Looks like he knew it was you in here, Hot Stuff. Do you have a secret tell that gives you away that maybe I missed?”

I can hear you. Please try to be more considerate of your neighbours, Jyn Erso - Kay, 10:30pm

“I’m definitely going to get that b-roll footage,” Cassian whispers and turns to look at her, a wide smile on his face. Jyn can’t stop the thought that his smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, her heart hammering in her chest as he twists to capture her lips once more. When he draws back this time it’s almost reluctant, his fingers grazing her cheek slowly before dropping to his lap. “Can I interest you in some food now? My treat?”

“Didn’t you already eat?” She counters with a raised brow. Cassian laughs and gets to his feet, pulling her up into his arms.

“Yeah, but that was soul food. Now I need actual food,” he responds and Jyn nearly misses a step, the goofy smile on her face at his words spreading as she thinks about what he’s said.

Good sex and a decent guy? She could get used to this.

#rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fic #lollercakes tries to write

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