#I can say this with the little bit I do know about that film and what it is...attempting to say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoonmetogether · 2 days ago

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Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 2

pairing: gambler/drug dealer!yoongi x grad student!fem!reader, surprise pairings rating: mature MDNI! 18+ only. Blank/ageless blogs will be blocked!!! genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to e2l mafia/bodyguard au summary: he shows up a second time. but does he stay? warnings/tags: oral (f. receiving), usage of sl*t, motorcycle riding, angst, bantering, dialogue heavy, smoking, implied drug dealing/usage, tiny bit of fluff, flashback of secondary school relationships, referenced underage drinking wc: 12k 😭 im sorryyyy huuuuuge ginormous humongous thank you to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo for her extraordinary commentary and feedback that never fails to make me smile, as well as @syllviere for her emotional support lol and bouncing ideas with me for this fic. could not have done this without y'all and I’m so grateful for your friendship <333

prologue l ch 1. play nice l prelude. strangers 1/3 l prelude. 2/3 l prelude. 3/3 l

Boys. They’re so messy.

All four of you had been in the hotel room for only 15 minutes but already the floors and counters were littered with beer cans and food containers. Jin would’ve had an aneurysm if he’d seen how quickly things had turned into chaos.

You were sitting on the edge of one of the beds, sulking as you watched your brother get ready. He was choosing which snapback better matched his outfit while Tae leaned over the sink in the bathroom, smearing a charcoal pencil under his waterlines. Jimin, on the other hand, was on the bed opposite you, laying on his back with his phone in the air, playing some game. He’d been the first to get ready.

“Can’t I go? Please?” you whined.

“No,” Jungkook huffed, saying your name in a harsh tone.

“Why not?”

“Because Jin would skin me alive if he found out I took you to an underground poker game.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Tae intervened, stepping out of the bathroom, flashing you a wink. “You’re gonna cave just like you always do, so save yourself the trouble. You know Jin hyung would never do anything to his two precious babies.”

“You’re too nice to her,” Jungkook grumbled, fixing his small gauges.

“She’s so cute, I can’t help it!” Tae exclaimed, your brother rolling his eyes.

“She’s just my lame, annoying sister.” Your jaw dropped, entirely hurt, and Jimin sat up to look between you and your brother with a frown on his face. If only you could hug him without Jungkook throwing a fit. His hugs always made you feel better.

“You’re so mean!” Tae came to your defense. “She loves you and that’s why she wants to go everywhere with you. Maybe you should be nicer.”

Jungkook shook his head defiantly, narrowly missing the pillow you chucked at him. But then he looked at you with a grimace, and you shot up on your feet with a smile. The familiar look of reluctance.

“Don’t wander off or be a pain in my ass,” Jungkook pointed a stern finger at you to which you stuck your tongue out before giddily bouncing over to the bathroom where Tae was finishing up with his hair.

“Thanks, Tae,” you murmured softly as you stepped up next to him.

“Of course, little angel. I always got your back.” You smiled at his soft elbow nudge in your side. “He’s really the lame and annoying one. Not you.”

“I heard that!” Jungkook called out in an offended tone.

“Good!” Tae shot back, grinning widely as you giggled. “Go get ready. We have to leave soon to catch the bus.”

****

The bar was musty, smelling of cigarettes, gross men, and booze, and the dim lights had a green smokey film floating underneath, creating a spooky atmosphere.

“Guys, do you really think we should be here?” Jimin asked nervously, wringing his hands. You stared, wanting to hold one of them.

Tae turned around from where he was standing beside your brother and hopped over with a smile, hooking an arm around Jimin’s neck.

“Aw, it’s okay, Baby J. We have my big pitbull to protect us, remember?” Tae jutted a thumb over his shoulder at Jungkook. Jimin shoved him away.

“How about this?” Tae booped his nose, and you found it cute the way Jimin wrinkled it in response. “When I win, I’ll use the money to replace your shit car.”

You stifled a laugh as Jimin kicked at his shin and Tae skipped away with a laugh, stopping beside your brother who was rolling his eyes at your antics. But he smiled shyly when Tae slung an arm around his waist.

Jimin looked grateful when you hooked your elbows together, both of you sparing a look at your brother to make sure he didn’t notice. Jimin quickly pinched your cheek that flushed under his touch, heart racing when he soothed it with his thumb.

You’d get around to telling them eventually.

Jungkook got in a small argument with a server who thought his ID was a fake, and her eyes widened in shock when your brother turned around to reveal the family emblem permanently drawn on the back of his neck, hidden by the lid of his hat. Your stomach churned at the sight. In a few years, you’d have to get the same tattoo. The very reason why you hated crows.

The server ran off to retrieve the owner, who walked briskly towards your group, eyes hardened.

“Do you know what the boss would do to me if he found out I let you kids in here?” The bar owner exclaimed in a hushed tone, looking around as if Jin was lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Jungkook shrugged, adjusting the snapback. “Besides, I just turned 19, so I’m legally allowed to be here.”

“What about your friends?” Your brother glanced back at the three of you. Jimin looked like he was about to throw up and Tae consolingly rubbed his back.

“He’ll be 19 in December, and they have IDs saying they’re old enough.” Jungkook pointed at Tae, and then at you and Jimin.

The man nodded at you and you did your best to maintain a calm demeanor. “Even her?”

“She’s my kid sister, she goes everywhere with me. I’m basically her permanent babysitter.” You flipped him off.

“You’re making me walk a tight line, kid,” the owner sighed. “But alright, come on.”

“You’re the man,” Jungkook grinned, looking back and beckoning you three to follow him.

“Hopefully not a dead one anytime soon.” Your brother laughed as he walked past him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Nah, you’ll be good.”

As Jungkook led the way through the bar towards some stairs in the back, ignoring the side-glances you all received from the grown men playing cards, you noticed Tae looking around, scanning every table, every face.

“Who are you looking for?” You asked when your brother got caught up ordering a drink.

“Oh, an old friend of mine from back home.”

“Is that why you wanted to come here?”

“Yeah," he nodded with a wistful frown. "It was a long shot but I still wanted to see if I could run into him. He brought me a couple of years ago and taught me how to play.”

A sad look appeared on his face, so you didn’t think he wanted to talk anymore about it.

At the poker table downstairs, Jungkook sat down among the men like he owned the place, Tae right beside him. You pulled up a chair to sit behind them as cards were dealt and chips stacked. Jimin disappeared into the bathroom and didn’t come out for a while.

When the first river was dealt, Tae leaned back to whisper into your ear,

“Remember, it’s all in the eyes, little angel. You can always tell someone’s true feelings in their eyes.”

You nodded, intently watching Tae and your brother play, paying attention to the other men as well, trying to catch their tells.

Jimin returned with a tight smile on his face, and you both squeezed onto the chair, taking his hand into your lap since Jungkook was too engrossed in the play.

Your brother won a few rounds, smug as ever, but Tae won more and just gave Jungkook subtle nudges of his shoulder and whispers in his ear. You reminded yourself to tease him about the blush on his face later.

When the game ended, Tae emerged victorious, and all four of you celebrated with some shots at the bar, Jungkook making you vow that you’d never tell Jin.

Back home, Tae kept his promise to Jimin and bought him a nicer car. Still old and used, but less prone to breaking down.

For your birthday, he gifted you a keyboard, and it became one of your most prized possessions. With it, you composed a piece for Jimin who recorded and saved it on his phone, often playing it in his car whenever you two got some alone time, holding hands over the gearshift while you avoided looking at each other.

Some of your favorite memories. Ones that shaped you, seared a forever nostalgic hole in your heart. Ones that feel like they existed in another lifetime. Ones you’d give anything to relive.

The hotel room is smaller than you thought.

The queen-sized bed is located in the middle of the room, facing the terrace that has a clear view of the ocean. Around the corner of the foyer and hallway closet, is the bathroom; on the other side of that is a small nook with a mini fridge underneath an L-shaped counter, two armchairs on either side. It’s cozy. But cold. Quiet. You’re getting tired of being alone.

Your bags are wet, so you unpack everything to check that nothing’s ruined, rushing to get out your sketchbook. Flipping through the pages, you’re relieved that there’s no water damage. That would be very fucking unfortunate and you don’t need a panic attack right now.

After being caught in the rain, stuck in a basement with greasy men and cigarette smoke, and fucked in a cleaning closet, a hot shower is just what you need. But you don’t scrub your skin too hard. His touch still lingers.

You can still feel the tingle left by his fingers digging into your hips, hand wrapped around your wrist, mouth molded against yours. You don’t want to lose that feeling. Even though you lost him.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs. Why the fuck did you let that man go? You know, in your heart of hearts, that you’ll never meet someone like him again. You won his money - he didn’t owe you a goddamn thing and yet he came after you when he thought you were in danger. That had to mean something, right?

The thought of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up makes your hands feel clammy, despite the steamy shower stall. Who knows what intentions those men had, aside from forcing you to give them the money back. You can fight, but your odds were against you with a group of vengeful thugs. And you don’t have your knife - it would’ve gotten confiscated at the airport and it means too much to you to risk that.

But you do have another weapon, pretty much guaranteeing that you could’ve walked out of there alive. With one flash of the back of your neck, those guys would’ve backed off and run for the hills.

You don’t mull over if Yoongi would join them; instead, spend the rest of your shower fuming, hot water incomparable to the burning in your veins. Because of him, mostly. For being such a jerk even though you didn’t do anything wrong, even though you tried being nice to him. For acting like you’d been the bane of his existence but still fucking you. And for sending you into a confusing whirlwind but not leaving you any time to catch up. And still making you want him.

Maybe you’ll just go to bed and forget him. Do some sketches, get a headstart on upcoming assignments, and go home tomorrow pretending that there isn’t some strange crack in your soul left by a man you just met.

You’re just about to start your skin care routine when three knocks rap on the door. You freeze. It’s almost the middle of the night, who the fuck- Oh, shit. Wait. It can’t be those guys. Wrapped up in a robe, you tiptoe out of the bathroom, mind racing as you formulate a plan if it is them. Pressing against the door, thinking about the possibility of shimmying your way off the balcony since you’re only on the second floor, you peer into the peep hole, heart flatlining when there isn’t a group of thugs outside, but a familiar mop of orange hair.

What the hell is he doing here? Whatever the reason is, you’re way too relieved that it’s him. Teetering on elated, everything you’d come to peace with in the shower wiped away at the sight of him standing outside your door, hands in his pockets, staring down at his shoes.

You swing open the door just as he turns for the stairs, like he’s giving up. His eyes are wide when he faces you, narrowing as they fall on your robe-covered body.

“You just keep turning up, don’t you? Were you a stray cat in a past life?” You tease, snickering at his glare as you lean on the door. He sighs, stuffs his hands further in his jacket, glares harder at the threshold.

“I lied to you about the buses.” You smile softly at his confession.

“I know. They run till midnight.”

“And I don’t have a friend’s place to crash.”

“I figured that.”

He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t tell you what he’s here for, if he wants something. You already told him you’d give him money, you have more than enough, but you’ll be disappointed if that’s the only reason why he’s at your door.

“So, what? You showed up just to tell me that you lied?”

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head before snapping up to meet your gaze. The fire in his eyes is blazing. “For this.”

And suddenly he’s crowding your space, large, warm hands holding the side of your face. Again. And you barely have time to blink much less breathe before his lips crash onto yours. You thank your lucky stars.

He backs you into the wall behind the open door, and your heart runs in your chest when he starts kissing you just as hungrily as before. But this time, he makes the effort to angle your face with his in a way that he can kiss you passionately, with purpose, with heat, with his tongue meeting yours, exploring between your lips, into your mouth, like he’s trying to steal your breath away and you let him, kiss him back with equal fervor. He kisses you deeply enough that you can feel the effects all the way down to your toes, almost to the point of having an out of body experience, nothing you’ve ever felt before. He kisses you like he has no intention of stopping.

And you don’t want him to, but when you lift your arms to loop around his waist, bring him closer, his jacket is cool and wet, and his body vibrates beneath the layers. You break the kiss to catch your breath and tell him he feels cold, but apologies tumble through his swollen, pink lips.

“Shit, I don’t know what I was thinking, I should-” He takes a step back and you think he’s going to run again, so you grab the side of his damp jacket to keep him in place. Keep him near you.

“You’re shivering.”

He stiffens, but the back of his shoulders visibly tremble. You move past him to close the door, gesturing for him to take off his shoes.

“Do you want to shower?” He regards you for a moment, shoulders tense, and then nods, once. Directing him to the bathroom, you offer a small, warm smile but just as he reaches for the handle and opens the door a crack, you stretch your arm to land a hand on the frame, effectively blocking him.

“Admit that you think I’m pretty first.”

His eyebrows furrow, he blinks, and then swivels on his heels to head for the front door. Your loud laugh echoes after him.

“Have fun sleeping in the rain!”

He exhales a frustrated breath and another snicker fills the space in response as he turns back around.

“Come on, it’s not like you’ll be lying. For once.”

“Wow, pretentious, much?” he quips.

“Stubborn, much?”

His lip curls. “Annoying brat.”

“Grumpy jerk.” It’s enchanting, how quickly you match each other’s energy, hostile but with no real bite.

He scowls and tilts his head up to the ceiling, like he’s wondering what he’s gotten himself into. And your delighted grin glows at him.

“So, what’ll it be?” His glare flickers to you with a piercing glint.

“You’re pretty,” he grumbles, and even though you heard him, you lean forward, cupping your ear, wanting to hear it loud and clear.

“Hm? What was that?”

He speaks through clenched teeth. “You’re really fucking pretty. So there.”

“Dude, why do you look like you’re about to pop a vein?” You cackle and he runs a hand down his face.

“If it makes things any better, you’re not too bad looking yourself. I’d even go so far as to say you’re handsome. Like really fucking handsome,” You mock him and grin when he glowers at you. You nod to the bathroom.

“Get in there.” Twirling around, you just miss the way his cheeks tinge a subtle shade of pink.

As the door closes, your cheeks buzz with a dopey smile you can’t drop, color painting a part of your soul that’s been dormant for a long time, awoken when he showed up on your doorstep because he wanted to kiss you again.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” you call out. “Would you mind handing me my clothes? They’re on the sink.”

“Haven’t I done you enough favors?” From his one small moment of vulnerability, you forgot that he’s a fucking asshole.

With a huff, you knock on the door rapidly, holding your breath as the handle clicks and the door swiftly swings open to reveal Yoongi’s dark, narrowed eyes. Are you disappointed that he’s only dressed down to a black-tee, still in his jeans? You’ll never admit it. One more glance would show you that they’re unbuttoned, belt removed. The same jeans that were smacking on your ass back in the-

“Were you hoping I’d walk in on you naked?”

He cocks his head with a slight smirk. “I was hoping you’d walk in here naked.”

Oh, he’s smooth. Pulse dancing, you school your expression to conceal how flustered you are.

“Maybe I would’ve if you were nice. Can I have my clothes?” You hold out your hand and he glances down at it, a sigh leaving him as he brings his arm into view, passing over your sleep clothes. You snatch them with a cheeky smile and walk away to change. The door doesn’t shut until you’re around the corner.

Fully dressed and pretty much ready for bed, jet lag starting to get the best of you, you’re sitting at the white counter next to the window, re-checking all the designs in your sketchbooks when the door opens and Yoongi’s bare feet pad on the floor. You tense with the urge to turn around and see whether or not he’s appearing as what you’re imagining in your mind. Towel wrapped low on his hips, chest bare, body lithe and sleek and beautiful. When he passes behind you, the air around you thickens with his musk, the clinging scent of hotel soap and shampoo. Your legs cross under the table.

He stands adjacent to your seat, and you sneak a glance up at him peering down at your sketchbook, shaking a small towel over his wet hair. But he’s wearing a damn robe, sash tugged tightly around his waist, his clavicles and center of his chest just barely peeking out, two chains accentuating it. One is medium-length and studded with tiny diamonds, the other a long collection of stainless steel beads that hold two dog tags from his military service.

You retract your gaze and pretend to draw, cheek warming against your fist. He’s so attractive, it’s not fair.

“Are you an architect or something?” he asks as he drops in the seat across from you, towel falling around his neck. His tone sounds accusatory, like he can’t fathom you being in that kind of profession, but you don’t take it personally. You figure it’s just another one of his asshole-isms.

“No, I’m just minoring,” you reply without looking at him. “These are some sketches I’m playing with for my thesis project in the spring.”

“How proactive. They’re, um,” he clears his throat. “They’re pretty decent.”

He’s still leaning over, so with a bashful smile, you slowly push the book to his side of the table, permission for him to examine more closely.

“Thanks. My friends and I are talking about opening up an architecture firm after we graduate, and they’re looking at me to take care of the business portion of it.”

“Hm.” He sounds indifferent, but he glimpses at you while you talk, so you think he’s at least listening. As soon as you stop, though, his eyes return to your sketchbook. And he’s not just flipping through them. He takes his time with each page, each design, even the messier ones with all the frustrated scribbles and eraser marks. Sometimes he leans in and squints to get a closer look at the smaller details and… No one has looked at your pages like that. Not even your friends. Or brothers. The only exception is your professors, but that’s for a grade. Something glimmers in your chest. Something warms.

You change the subject so you don’t dwell on it.

“What did you major in?”

Your question sparks a slight frown on his face as he flips a page. “I didn’t go to college. Not for me.”

You nod in understanding. “Then, what do you do? Or you just gamble for a living?”

“You and all these questions.”

“Fine. Be boring,” You huff, crossing your arms.

“I work on cars,” he reluctantly mutters. Perking up at that, you sit a little straighter.

“You’re a mechanic?”

He hums in acknowledgment and you launch into a mainly one-sided conversation about your favorite makes and models, wishing you could tell him about your brother’s extensive car and bike collection. You smile when he at least indulges you in his current vehicle choice - an Elantra. Ooh. Sporty.

You’re a tad too giddy when you ask, “Do you race?”

“I can. But I don’t.”

“Maybe one day I’ll beat you at that too.” He just sighs and shakes his head, and you wear your shit-eating grin as the conversation comes to a stand-still. Now that you’re not sure what else to say and he doesn’t seem too keen on entertaining more questions, you wait for that awkward tension to settle between you but it never comes.

It’s just… quiet. Except for the sound of your breathing as you ponder explanations for why your heart is pounding that doesn’t have to do with the man sitting across from you, still engrossed in your sketches.

It’d be nice if he gave you an indication that he was interested in doing anything besides this and kissing you, but you suppose the fact that he accepted your invitation to shower instead of just fucking you in the foyer and hitting the road again is indicative of he can now at least stand being in your presence.

“So, fixing cars makes you enough to gamble a few million won away at an illegal poker ring? All in one night?”

He glances at you with a glare, flipping another page. “Okay, smart ass. What do you think I do?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you pretend to think. “Sell stuff.” He doesn’t look at you, a slight down tick at the corner of his mouth.

“Stuff.”

“Substances?” Narcotics is the word you want to say, but don’t. Scrutinizing another drawing, impassiveness covers his face.

“And would you have a problem with that?”

“Do I seem like I would have a problem with that?” His attention flits to you for a small moment and then stays down.

His silence is enough to say that he doesn’t want to talk any more about it and you won’t press him even though you’re a nosy little shit because you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. But you do want to let him know that you’re not one to judge.

If he is a dealer, you know just how easy it is to get into but so much harder to get out of.

“Well, whatever it is, shit’s tough out here, and sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do, y’know?”

He doesn’t say anything after that and so you let it go. But there’s still something else on your mind.

“Can I ask another question?”

“No,” he deadpans, and you ignore him.

“What was your plan after you dropped me off?”

He brings your book to the edge of the table and sits back in the chair.

“I was gonna go to a sauna, but I forgot I gave the rest of my cash to the cab driver.”

Your brow quirks inquisitively. “Cab? Weren’t you just on a motorcycle?”

Whole body stilling, he focuses on nothing for a moment before quietly grumbling,

“I paid him so he’d tell me where he took you.”

You gawk at him as everything sinks in. A ring of promise glows around the surface of your heart when you realize he went out of his way to find you.

To look out for you. To protect you. And expected nothing in return. Despite the fact that you kissed him, showed him you wanted more, he didn’t try to invite himself up. Just took off into the night without looking back. Like he didn’t just save your life. Like you don’t owe him for fucking stabbing someone for you.

“You really came looking for me,” you marvel. “Why?”

His jaw clenches, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“I don’t have to answer that.” Ugh, he’s so fucking difficult, with this wall around him that you desperately want to infiltrate.

“You and your attitude,” you scoff. “What’s your problem?”

When he doesn’t respond, you reach over to pull your sketchbook out of his grasp, slamming it closed on the table. You repeat your question with a harsh glare and he returns it with equal intensity.

“You,” he admits darkly, eyes hardened. “You are my problem.”

“Then what are you doing here?” His lips pull into a line and he stares at his flat hand on the table. You sit back again, dejected fingers rubbing over your sketchbook, watching him refuse to look at you.

You stand up before your brain gives the command, feet gliding around the table, heart pounding with each step, and end up next to his chair. He stares up at you with a pinch between his brows as you nudge your knee against his, and even though he looks confused, he turns away from the table to give you more room to stand in between his legs. Jet lag be damned, you dip a knuckle under his chin, holding his head up. His pupils on you are so dark, more than they’ve been all night as he doesn’t blink.

You can’t tell if he’s nervous, or scared, or upset, or a combination, similar to the complexity running in your veins.

“You’re the annoying one.” You stick a knee next to his hip, a hand on his shoulder, a pretense to lowering yourself into his lap. He cocks a brow.

“You can’t even tell me you want me.”

“You think I came back for what? A hot shower?” He says it so sarcastically, you almost laugh.

“Yeah, and a place to stay,” you murmur, resisting the temptation to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear.

“I would’ve figured something else out. Not my first time with nowhere to go.”

You frown at the thought of him being stuck in places where he wasn’t comfortable. Or safe. Even if he only came back so he wouldn’t end up spending a night in the rain, you would let him stay. You might put him up on the floor but at least he’d be inside.

When he doesn’t say a word, your other hand falls on his shoulders to finally settle yourself in his lap. his chest heaving in a deep breath. As you sit over his crotch, his hands flex, but remain dangling off the arms of the chair. Your eyes fall to the chains glinting on his pale chest and you hook a finger around the diamonds, lifting the small circular pendant, noticing a tiny inscription. You glance at him, silently asking for permission to study it. He just stares so you take that as a yes and lift it to get a closer look.

For my sonja, MYG

A soft smile on your lips, you drop the pendant and trail down to the tags that sit on his sternum and examine the carved information.

Huh. You have the same blood type.

“Are you dangerous, Min Yoongi?” The question pours out of your mouth, testing out his full name on your tongue. He squints at you with mirth.

“It’s a little late to ask that.”

Shrugging, your thumb runs over the metal tags, waiting for his answer.

“I’m not a stalker or a serial killer. Good enough?” It should be. But you have to be sure.

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now, right?”

A few beats of silence pass, and vines of trepidation for his truth start to creep up your spine. But then warm, calloused yet soft hands coast up the sides of your thighs to rest on your hips. The vines spark with flames, traveling over every cell of your skin, ignited by his simple touch. Trepidation becomes suspense.

“I don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it.”

The implication should scare you. That he hurts people. Maybe even does it for a living. But you know, peering deeply into his dark, brown eyes, that he isn’t a threat to you.

He stabbed someone right in front of you, and instead of being afraid like you should’ve been, you ran away with him. In the middle of the street, soaked to the bone with piercing rain, you grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him like your life depended on it.

And you’re about to do it again.

Lifting your hand to cup his cheek, your heart dips when he flinches away, ever so slightly. What the fuck has this man been through? You drop it back on his shoulder, smooth it slowly, daringly, down to his left pec, fingers under his robe. Your breath hitches when you feel how strong his chest is, throat tightening when your palm radiates with the fast rate of his heartbeat.

Too fast to be normal. Too fast to hide that he’s affected by you.

“Do you want me?” you whisper, voice scared of rejection. His jaw ticks, his hands moving to your waist, pressing you forward and down on the solid erection forming beneath you. You gasp.

He grits his next words through clenched teeth, like it’s hard for him to say them.

“I wanted you the second you sat down at that goddamn poker table.”

Just like that moment in the rain, before you got on his bike and held onto him while he drove you into safety, you don’t think before crashing your lips onto his. He opens his mouth to welcome your tongue, and you lick over it with meaning.

The two of you set in motion a greedy and lascivious rhythm of sloppy tongues and experimental grinding hips. His fingers curl into the plush of your ass, encouraging the roll of your center over his erection, ruining your shorts with arousal. He sucks on your bottom lip, moaning when your hand sneaks into his lap and boldly squeezes his twitching length.

“If I suck your dick, are you gonna leave me on the floor again?” you challenge over his mouth.

He pulls away with a frown and a cross in his brows as he looks at you silently expecting some kind of an apology. But he doesn’t even open his swollen mouth, just pushes at your waist until you stand up from his lap, and before you can question what he’s doing, he kisses you again, gripping your waist as he walks you back to the bed. Hands slipping up to your ribcage, he lowers you down, heart hammering to the surface of your chest as he holds himself above you, one hand on your side, the other pressing into the comforter next to your head.

Warmth pools in your belly as his chains fall in between your breasts, then slide to rest on the base of your throat. You smile in between his lips, lifting a hand to tangle in the links.

“You better not break my jewelry,” he utters, tongue nudging your bottom lip to encourage your mouth open, and without opening your eyes or breaking from his enticing mouth, you grab his hand and encourage it towards your breast, shirt covering your pert nipple.

He softly squeezes a handful of your tit and you arch into him with a moan, his lips between yours curving up in a smug smile. Kissing you once, twice, he drags his mouth down your jaw, to your neck that you strain so he can bruise and bite at your skin. You curse when he moves to mouth over your clothed tit, gently pulling your nipple between his teeth to test out your reaction. You bite your lip with a moan and reach up to curl your fingers in his hair, squirming when he flattens his tongue over the tiny sting.

“So sensitive,” he smizes, cocksure. He laps at your tit once more before nosing down, fingers bunching up your shirt to reveal your stomach, moan escaping you when his lips graze your bare skin.

“Is this supposed to be an apology?”

He shrugs and you roll your eyes as he stands to drag down your sweats, your lungs constricting with every inch of skin he unveils. You know he already fucked you, knows what your pussy feels like, but he hasn’t seen you yet and your cheeks heat at the thought of baring your everything to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he muses when your legs close in their bent form after he fully removes your sweats, tossing them back onto one of the chairs.

You shake your head in denial, but your eyes that refuse to open, refuse to see him staring at you, say otherwise.

“Where’s that dirty girl who wanted to get fucked in a closet by a stranger?”

“Don’t you mean slut?”

“Fine,” he smirks. “Bring back the dirty slut who practically begged me to fuck her in that closet.”

“Sure, as long as you don’t act like a prick anymore.”

Smirk falling, he averts his eyes, tilting his head to the side as his hand smoothes over your lower stomach, fingers dipping into the hem of your-

“Cute panties.”

“They’re shorts.”

“You call these shorts?” He snaps the fabric strained around your thighs. “Leaves little to the imagination.”

“Well, that’s good for you, right? Aren’t you too old to have an imagination?” He quirks a brow, lifts his head to level you with an entertained gaze.

“Says who?”

“Society,” you shrug, and he exhales an unamused huff.

“Wow, good argument. You should sign up for a debate team.”

“I was actually on one in school.”

“So why aren’t you any good?”

“Oh, shut up!” You admonish, and he snickers. If you really think about it, it’s crazy how easy it is to fall into conversation with him like this. And incredibly insane how it does really funny things to your heart.

A stuttered gasp pours from your lips when he cups your heat, rubbing his flattened fingers back and forth. You hiss when he pokes over your covered hole, panties/shorts soaked with your arousal.

“Damn, you get so wet for me,” he muses, tongue poking past his teeth as he pulls your panties to the side. Fuck, just that movement alone is enough to put a flutter in your stomach.

“A little grinding on my lap is all it takes, huh? Or do you just really like being called a slut?”

“Screw you.” His dark chuckle shamefully turning you on, he pulls back his fingers to circle feather-light around your clit. You pull your lips in and shut your eyes to lock away a moan. “We’re getting to that.” His hands slide under your ass, eyes trained on you as he pulls off your garment, and you take a deep breath when he pushes your legs apart.

“Scoot up.” With his hands holding your thighs, you wiggle your way back until your head nears the edge of the mattress, lust coursing through your blood as he lays down in between your legs, licking his lips at the sight of your bare cunt. You relax into the soft comforter as he starts off with dragging his lips on the inside of your thigh, humming as he goes along, and arousal builds at the vibrations on your skin. Glancing down at the appealing sight of his head between your legs, you’re tempted again to run your fingers through his soft locks.

“You could really use a root touch-up,” you think out loud. He huffs, breath hitting a spot on your thigh where he was sucking a small mark.

“Ah, hell. Can you be quiet?”

“Just saying.” He clicks his tongue.

As you break out into a laugh, your expression drops when his dark eyes fixate on you and he spits, loudly, right on your hole before dragging his tongue in a thorough, languid lick through your folds. Back arching with a moan, your hand flies into his hair, pulling a low growl from his throat. He pauses at your clit, nose nudging it before he sucks in a breath, tightens his hold around your thighs, and buries his face in your pussy.

He consumes you, flicking his tongue in some places and slurping in others, going back to the ones that you respond to more - it’s like you just served your pussy to him on a gold fucking platter and he’s savoring you like it’s his last meal.

Fingers tangled in his soft, damp locks, you use your other hand to stifle your whines that he’s drawing out with his expert tongue.

“Don’t hold back for me, dollface,” he insists over your clit. “You can’t get us caught this time.”

Resolve crumbling, you barely register the fact that he called you ‘dollface’ as your hand smacks onto the comforter and unrestrained, needy moans fill the room. He grunts in response and your trembling thighs squeeze around his head as he latches onto your clit, suckling and licking to add fire to the flame in your gut.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you whimper, muscles tensing as the impending snap looms closer.

“Mm, say my name just like that,” he purrs, tongue flicking on your clit.

“You mean you want me to?” You antagonize, not entirely brain dead yet. “After all that grief you gave me about-”

He suddenly draws back, forcing you to groan at the orgasm he just snatched away, hips involuntarily chasing after his mouth.

“Say my fucking name,” he demands.

“Do something that will-”

His mouth wraps around your clit and he starts sucking in rapid motions, not stopping even as you writhe and squirm with pathetic cries, strong arms immobilizing your thighs.

“Yoongi- Yoongi, please!” you shriek, coming with another wanton wail of his name, gripping his roots, and a low, rough growl licks into your pulsing cunt.

Vision blurring with tears as he continues his assault on your clit, you sob at the threat of overstimulation, pushing at his head until he detaches. He kisses your dripping slit one more time just to have you jolt and curse, and then finally lets you catch your breath.

“You got a condom?” he asks after your blood pressure has simmered down to a somewhat normal level and you can comprehend your own thoughts again.

“Um, no?” you rasp, glancing down to his slick mouth and chin. “I thought you had those on deck.”

“I used my last one.”

“When?” You manage to joke. He glares at you through his bangs, shaking his head, and you don’t do well to hold back a laugh. “Oh. Bummer.”

He sighs, and then dots kisses through your folds before latching onto your clit again. Pumping his long fingers into your cunt this time, he gets a little lazy, but it doesn’t make it any less sensational. You lose count of how many times you come but you’re sweating and dripping and just a mess by the time you pass out.

You wake up on your stomach feeling heavy, but so, so good. Lifting your head, you look around, wondering what year it is. You’re still in the same spot you fell asleep in, but there’s a robe laid over you, covering your lower half. Over your shoulder, Yoongi is back at the table, scrolling through his plugged-in phone, and you silently thank the universe that you weren’t just dreaming him up. Because that would be devastating.

Rolling over, you slowly sit up and shift towards the edge of the bed, legs feeling like jelly before you even put any weight on them. You stand up with the robe and nearly lose your balance.

“You alright?” his gravelly voice carries across the room.

“I think I almost died,” you admit as you walk around the bed, rubbing your eyes. He smirks at his phone, looking a little too proud of himself. “How long was I out?”

“Like an hour?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. That jet lag really got to me.”

“Jet lag, huh?” He frowns and you playfully roll your eyes.

“You can take the credit for knocking me out.”

You walk away from his cocky grin to head for the bathroom.

After doing your business and admiring the subtle marks he left on the inside of your thighs, you realize how exhausted you are. From the plane, from all the events of the day, from your however-many orgasms, and you should be spent, ready to sleep like a rock through the night.

And yet, there’s a hunger gnawing in your chest. A greed in your gut. He gratified you beyond your imagination, and you still haven’t gotten your fill. But he ran out of fucking condoms.

You wrap the robe around your waist as you head back to the table, avoiding his gaze as you squat over your duffle.

Rummaging through it, you know a condom isn’t going to be anywhere in there no matter how badly you want there to be. Damn it. Are you that desperate? For that man, with that devilish tongue and monster in his pants? Hell fuckin’ yeah.

“You looking for something?”

“Oh, uh, I forgot to pack a toothbrush,” you stutter, tucking back a piece of your hair as you rise. “Do you think we can go to the convenience store? It’s only a couple miles away.”

“It’s kinda late.”

“It’s open all night.”

“Fine,” he sighs, standing and taking his used towels to the bathroom, shoulder just barely brushing yours as he passes you.

When both of you are changed, he lingers in the doorway of the bathroom where you’re standing in front of the sink, fixing yourself up in the mirror, and you don’t anticipate him to step in and appear mere inches behind you. You watch him fix his mussed hair, not sparing your reflection a single glance. Without the mirror, you’re not sure if you would’ve even noticed his stealth presence unless he touched you. You can’t even hear him breathing. And it makes you shiver. Just as nervousness sprouts at his proximity, you twist around to make an escape, immediately regretting it when you come face-to-face with his devastatingly handsome face and dark eyes that dart down to your lips. On pure impulse, you reach up to tussle his hair and scurry away as he turns around with a sharp, “Hey!”

Next to the front door, his glare sears into you as you lean down to put on your shoes, laughing when he nudges you so that you lose your balance. You guess you deserve that.

***

He parked his bike near some bushes in front of a stone wall farthest away from the main lot of the hotel, close to the ocean. You can’t help but skip towards it, excited to go on a ride again. When you reach it and glance back to see that he’s still catching up, you impulsively swing your leg over and settle into the leather seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks as he approaches you with a glare. You shoot him a sheepish grin over your shoulder.

“Can I drive?”

“That’s something you ask before you get on the bike.”

“Oh. Well, can I?” With a shake of his head, he sighs and you half-expect him to scold you off, but instead he grabs the helmet resting on the rear seat and holds it out to you.

“Put this on first.” Pressing your warming cheek into your shoulder to hide your shy smile, you reach back and accept it, slipping it on. He looks reluctant as he slides onto the seat behind you and you twist forward, a throb rushing down your spine when his hands slide onto your hips and he adjusts himself to sit pressed lightly against you. He leans forward and you’re encased by him as he sticks the key into the ignition, shows you the switch that will bring the bike to life by tapping it twice, hand returning to your hip once you turn it and the engine rumbles alive loudly, vibrating beneath you.

Revving the handlebars, exhilaration flows into your veins as you look down at all the specs on the dashboard.

“You know how to ride, right?” He mumbles into your ear, sounding skeptical. You smirk.

“Remember what happened the last time you misjudged me?” Before he gets a chance to respond, you grasp his hand and pull it around to your stomach.

“Hold on tight,” you say in the lowest pitched voice you can muster in a poor attempt at imitating him from earlier in the night. He sighs and moves his other arm around your waist, and just as your heart starts to beat out of your chest, you kick back the stand, find your balance on the pedals, and rev the engine before taking off down the road, secretly wishing this road stretched on forever.

His fingers curl into your covered skin, presses his chest into your back and it encourages you to lean forward and go faster. You go a little too fast, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give you any indication that you should slow down. And when you arch your back, the hard length poking your ass tells you that he doesn’t mind the speed at all.

You pull up to the convenience store in under five minutes, the parking lot empty and Yoongi tells you to park it off to the side.

“I think you liked that more than I did,” you say after hopping off the bike. He stays in the seat as you remove the helmet and hold it out, grinning up at him.

“You like it when a girl rides your bike, Min Yoongi?” You lilt teasingly, the biggest shit-eating grin on your face clashing with his fierce glare.

“Go get your shit, you brat,” he grumbles, teeth gritted.

“You’re not coming?” You glance down at the glaring problem in the front of his jeans. “Oh, I guess you need a minute.”

His lip curls and he digs his foot into the pebbled asphalt, making you leap away with a giggle when he kicks a small pile at you.

Walking backwards, you blow him a kiss, laughing your way into the store when he returns it with a middle finger. A smile remains on your face as you start looking around for the toothbrush you lied about not having. At one point you realize that your cheeks hurt from still smiling. Is that the effect he has on you? It’s been a minute since a man, (or anyone, really) has made you smile like this.

Perusing the aisles for some midnight snacks, the doorbell chimes and when the cashier offers a monotone welcome, you perch up on your tiptoes to spot a black beanie making its way to the opposite corner of the store.

As you lean into a fridge for some drinks, he steps up into your periphery, and you take a quick glance, smiling at the bandana that’s wrapped around his face again.

“You want anything?” He shakes his head and you sigh, closing the door and turning around with a hand on your hip.

“Can you not be difficult for once and just pick something? Because I don’t share.”

He steps up to you. “I know you’re not calling me difficult.”

“I am.” You challenge, unintimidated despite being nearly nose to nose. “Get something.”

Keeping his glare on you, he reaches into the fridge and pulls an item out to drop it into the basket. You roll your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even look at it and grab a few more of what he picked, letting the door slam shut.

You pinch the bandana and give it a few gentle tugs, getting right in his face. “Is this what you stuffed in my mouth earlier?”

“Yes. And I’m tempted to do it again.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Maybe I just want to shut you up.”

“There’s more than one way to do that.” His dark eyes flash.

“Keep it moving.”

He lingers behind you as you finish shopping, but disappears once you head to the checkout. When he comes up behind you and casually tosses something on the counter next to your snacks waiting to be scanned, your whole face floods with heat as you stare at the box of condoms. A 12-pack. Large. You gulp, and the flush seeps down to your toes. This is what you came for, but a flood of embarrassment streams into you at the thought that he planned the same thing, or he caught onto you. To offset some of the flood, you swipe the box and hold it up to him.

“Don’t you need these in a smaller size?”

His eyes flicker up but he doesn’t look at you. Just turns and walks away, leaving you to fight down a laugh. Glancing back at the cashier, you’re grateful that her face hasn’t changed, even as she rings up the condoms. She could probably care less if you robbed the whole store.

Rushing out to the empty parking lot, you’re met with the loud revving of the Ducati and the sight of Yoongi wearing his helmet, looking over his shoulder at you through the open visor.

“Min Yoongi, don’t you dare leave me here!” you yell, stopping in your tracks when he flips down the visor, throws up a peace sign and zooms onto the street.

Your jaw drops. That. JERK! He can’t be serious. You run out to the end of the lot, looking up and down the empty stretch of road but he’s nowhere in sight, just the descendo of the engine hanging in the air.

The engine grows louder and he zips by you, sitting straight, one hand on the throttle, the other in the air, pointing a finger at you. Is he… laughing? It’s your turn to flip him off and you almost scream his name again when he suddenly pulls a sharp u-turn and heads back your way. You don’t expect it, but you’re incredibly impressed as he starts drifting in wide circles around you, his leg coming down to balance himself as the bike sharply turns, showcasing just how experienced he is and fuck if that isn’t attractive. And he knows exactly what he’s doing. Turning you on. But you pretend to be unbothered, crossing your arms as if this dangerous man on this dangerous bike isn’t looping around you like a vulture honing in on its prey.

“Are you done?” you tilt your head once he skids to a stop a few feet away in front of you, ignoring the ringing in your ears caused by his incessant drifting.

He switches off the engine and leans up, flipping the visor to reveal the top part of his face, arms dropping and crossing.

“Are you?” His dark muffled voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“What?”

“Done making a fool out of me.” Blowing a raspberry, you walk up to him, set the bag behind him with a wide grin.

“I don’t think you need me to do that.” He stares at you over his shoulder for a second before twisting around to grab the handlebars and just as he turns the ignition, your hand halts him by his elbow.

“You’re not gonna leave again.”

“Then get on.”

You watch, mesmerized, as he takes off the helmet and runs fingers through his hair, casually holding it over his shoulder for you to take.

This feels better, sitting behind him, arms around his waist, head between his shoulder blades so you can watch the trees lining the road and spot lights of the street lamps go by in a blur.

Alive. You feel so fucking alive. The danger of riding on this bike, trusting this man with your life once again. Stretching out your arm, you let the wind fly freely through your fingers, helmet blocking your periphery from catching the turn of his head for a few seconds before focusing back on the road.

He parks the bike in the same spot as before and you get off and return the helmet.

“Usually when guys go out of their way to show off like you did, they’re trying to compensate for something. Just letting you know.”

He looks at you with night in his eyes as he steps up in front of you, peering directly into your soul, and the pit of your stomach rolls with heat.

“You know damn well that I don’t have anything to compensate for,” he says slyly, eyes flickering to yours in a way that enthralls you. Oh, this cocky bastard. If only he wasn’t so fucking right.

“Or maybe you need to be reminded.”

“Isn’t that why you got these?” you ask, shaking the bag in his face.

“I also need to restock my wallet.”

You scoff, pointing at yourself. “And I’m the slut?”

He grins and your cheeks heat when he just stares for a moment, then takes off in the direction of the hotel without another word.

As you reach the stairs of the building to your room, he stops and you turn to him looking down to the stretch of neatly tailored lawn sitting across from the buildings, a few tables and chairs with closed umbrellas spread out in front of the stone wall, the dark ocean a pretty view from afar.

“It’s about to rain, so I’m gonna go smoke. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come?”

“No.” He turns away and your heart cries to go after him, like some clingy, ankle-biting dog.

Stopping after a few steps, he looks back at you pouting and tilts his head.

“Don’t you do what you want anyway?” The dark night can’t hide your bright smile as you bound up to him.

He settles on the table closest to the short-stacked stone wall, wiping off the seat with the end of his sleeve before sitting down and taking out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket. You want nothing more than to sit in his lap again, and, thankfully, there’s an old spot of something white and dirty on the opposite chair that the rain didn’t wash away.

So without warning, you approach him and ignore his repeated look of confusion as you invite yourself into his lap again with an arm around his neck.

“Um, there’s a chair over there.”

“It has bird shit on it,” you reply simply, adjusting yourself to sit sideways, legs hung over his knees. His arms hover in the air.

“So?”

“Would you sit there?”

“No.”

“Then shut up.”

Disregarding the click of his tongue, you lean over to try and snatch away his cigarette, but he holds it up out of your reach.

“This is my last cigarette and you already owe me one.” You sigh indignantly and lean back against the armrest, gawking as he pats the box against his palm to discharge the final cigarette, crushing the cardboard as he lifts the stick to hang loosely between his lips. He fires it up with an attractive flick of the lighter and cup of his hand around the end, sucking in a drag and letting the stick sit between his teeth as he pockets the empty box and lighter. Smoke filters out of the corner of his mouth as he removes the cigarette with two fingers, blowing the stench to the side, away from you. A string tugs from your heart at the considerate gesture. You redirect your attention to the design on the front of his jacket, grabbing the side to inspect it more closely.

“Is this a tiger?”

“Mhmm.” Is his response, tone disinterested as he flicks ash. Some falls on your thigh and he lightly brushes it away. His touch burns.

“Your favorite animal?” He shakes his head, still doesn’t look at you, blows more smoke away.

“It’s just a design.”

As you watch him smoke, the cigarette slowly withering, he lifts his hips to reach into the back pocket of his jeans, crotch rubbing the back of your knees, making your thighs squeeze together. He multitasks checking his phone and taking a drag, a frown appearing at something he does or doesn’t see on his screen. A thought occurs to you that creates a sinkhole in your chest.

“Are you expecting a call from your girlfriend or something?”

“Why, would that piss you off?” He remarks in a mocking tone, and you start to get up but his arm around your waist and a throaty chuckle traps you in place.

“I wouldn’t have fucked you if I had one. I would’ve still wanted to, but I do have a bit of self control over here.”

“You? A man? Self-control?”

“We’re not all disgusting pigs,” he mutters.

“Well, you’re a rare breed.” Lifting his head mid-drag, his eyebrows raise, a subtle smirk on the corner of his lips.

“So I bet you feel real lucky you met me.”

“Is your- oh wow, look at that,” you pretend to muse, putting your hands up to the side of his head as if measuring it. “Your head’s getting bigger. Not a good look for you.”

With a roll of his eyes, he waves your hands away, unlocks his phone to scroll through his messages that hold no new notifications. Staring at his screen, the desire to have your number and thread on there increases, a lump forming in your throat, unsure if you should cross into that boundary.

“No girlfriend,” he assures you, locking his phone to let it fall face down in his lap. “I’m checking to see if my deposit came through. I’m shit broke until then.”

Your eyes rove over his side profile, going back to that scene in the poker room, how blankly yet confidently he slid all of his chips into the center of the bet, thinking he had the winning hand.

“I could tell you’re a pro at poker, why did you put so much at risk?”

He sighs and looks away, staring across the compound as he takes another drag.

“Because you really sucked at first, and I thought you were just some dumb, overzealous kid who didn’t know what she was doing playing with the big boys like that. But you’re good, Angel. Too good, and I fell for it.”

“You’re the dummy,” your tone is soft, touched by his genuine admission and acknowledgement of your skills. You press a finger into his temple and push a little. He leans away with a small smile.

“I know.”

The ocean is dark and covered in white-caps, brewing in preparation for the storm. Listening to the waves crashing down below, you think back to your musings in the shower.

“Maybe I owe you for stabbing a dude for me.” Wind blows in your direction as he peers at you unsurely.

“I’m no hero.”

You shrug. “I just want to pay you back for going through all of that trouble.”

“Wouldn’t it make me a prick to take your money for something like that?”

“Not if I’m offering it.”

As you wait for him to argue, your phone buzzes in your hoodie and you quickly pull it out, anxiety flashing when ‘biggest bro’ flashes on the call screen.

“Oh, hang on, sorry, my brother’s calling.” You clamber out of his lap and stand, answering when you’re a few feet away.

“Hey,” you say quietly, somewhat relieved to finally hear from Jin. Even though if he knew where you were, he wouldn’t be. “What are you doing calling me on my regular cell?”

“Well, honey, I haven’t heard from you otherwise and oh, I don’t know. Wanted to make sure you’re still alive. Is that okay? How were your summer classes?”

You smile, start pacing in front of the stone wall. “I barely survived, but I made it out. And I’ve made a lot of progress on my project ideas.”

“That’s good to hear, kiddo. Send me some pictures of your designs one of these days. Any other good news you want to tell your big brother?”

“Like what?”

“Hmm. Like are you seeing any booooooys you might want to bring home some day?”

You cringe, a bit spooked by your brother’s 6th sense for knowing everything that goes on in your life. You spare a quick glance to the boy sitting behind you on his phone, turning your back to him just as he looks up at you, and walk a little further away.

“Like you’d approve of them,” you grumble. You’re sure as shit he wouldn’t approve of that man, especially if he found out about your little tryst in a fucking cleaning closet, at an illegal gambling ring no less. What Jin doesn’t know won’t kill him.

“Well, not if they’re jerks!”

“I could bring home a literal prince, and you and bro would interrogate him like he was threatening national security.”

He laughs. “Oh, come on. You know I want you to find someone nice who makes you happy.”

“How can I do that if I move around every eight months?” you ask defensively, that bitterness for your situation enforced onto you by him and your father bubbling to the surface. “I don’t think I’m gonna meet anyone who’d want to be with me like that.”

Silence hangs over the line. “You never know.”

You roll your eyes. He underestimates the kind of men that are around everywhere you go. They barely want to stay the night, much less follow you to the ends of the earth. You feel a prick of wonder if the man whose eyes you can feel on your back would.

“Well, either way, I’m too busy to date. Maybe I’ll have to wait to move back home to settle down,” you rush out, eager to put an end to this topic. “Speaking of which, do you think I can come back to see bro for his birthday?”

You can sense through another bout of Jin’s prolonged silence a big ‘No.’

“It’s not a good idea, honey. Not right now, he’s not doing well.” Jin takes a deep breath. “He almost relapsed.”

Your heart drops and you have to squat to combat the nausea filling your gut.

“That just makes me want to come home even more.”

“He doesn’t want you seeing him like this.”

Your palm lands against your forehead. “So what, am I just never going to get to see either of you again? Like I’m just gonna go the rest of my life living abroad? Do you know how much I hate the idea of that?”

Dead air meets the line again and you stand, suddenly overwhelmed by the notion that he might never let you.

“We’ll talk more about that when you finish with school, I want you to focus on your studies. Don’t worry about your brother, he’ll be alright.”

You do worry. You worry so much about him, sometimes you can’t sleep at night. You almost tell Jin that you’re in Jeju, that you could take a flight home tomorrow and just see them real quick but you have a feeling he would be less than enthusiastic and might turn it into a whole lecture about how irresponsible it is for you to fly back home unannounced. Among other things.

“Whatever.” You peek back to where Yoongi’s staring at his dark screen.

“Hey, don’t be like that, okay? This is just something we-” But you’re over this. There’s no point in arguing with him. He never lets you win.

“Sorry, I’m gonna go now.”

“Honey, I don’t want you to be upset.”

“I’m not,” you lie in a grumble. “I’m kind of with someone, so I should probably get back.”

“Oh?” his tone changes to curiosity. Oops. “Who is this ‘someone’?”

“A friend. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hmm, alright,” he sounds unconvinced. “Well, be safe, you hear? And don’t let me go this long without hearing from you unless you want me to go gray with worry.”

“Don’t you already dye your hair?”

“Yah, you little punk! I’ll get you back for that one.”

“Sure you will. I’m hanging up now. Love you. Tell bro I love him too and that it wouldn’t hurt to call me once in a while.”

“I will. Love you too, honey. Call me in a couple days.”

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, says bye, and waits for you to hang up.

Dropping the phone from your ear, you stare at it while contemplating whether or not you should call Jungkook, but turn and head for Yoongi when you doubt he would even pick up.

You sit back down on his lap like it has your name on it. He huffs in annoyance but still wraps his arm around your waist and rests his hand holding the nearly finished cigarette on your knee.

“Does your brother usually call this late?” he queries, voice soft and a touch hesitant.

“Now who’s being nosy?”

“You eavesdropped on me earlier!” You smile, stretching your arm on the back of the chair.

“He thinks I’m still abroad.”

“Are you supposed to be?”

“Mhmm. I was gonna go home and surprise my other brother for his birthday, but turns out that would be a bad idea.”

“Damn, two brothers? That’s gotta be tough.”

“Yeah, they’re both older. And annoying as fuck.”

“So you get it from them.” You can’t argue with that.

“Why’s it a bad idea to go home?” he asks softly after a stretch of quietude, waves crashing in the distant background. Your cheek turns to look at him, mildly bewildered, his eyes flitting between you and the ground.

“Are you trying to get to know me or something?” you deflect. Because that’s not a can of worms you really want to open right now.

“No, just making conversation.” He shrugs, a pout on his lips that mirrors the one that appeared when he told you his name.

“You didn’t want to do that earlier.”

“Fucks’ sake,” he mutters under his breath, ducking his head to lift the cigarette. “It’s easier for you to just call me a fucking jerk.”

“You’re a fucking jerk.” He chuckles while taking a drag, exhaling smoke through his nostrils.

“And I’m trying not to be one right now, okay?”

“Well, don’t wear yourself out.”

“You’re gonna do that for me when we go back in, right?” He cheekily winks, demeanor doing a 180, and you mimic being annoyed but really you’re imagining all the ways you could do just that.

“Y’know, you have a really good libido for such an old man.”

His smirk flips to a scowl and when you laugh at his disdain, he pushes at your waist, a little harder than you think he meant to because you end up slipping off of his lap and onto the ground with a surprised squeal.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaims, reaching down for you as you groan in mild pain from your ass falling on the hard, wet lawn. You glare up at him when he visibly can’t hold back his amusement while he tries to grab your elbows to help you up but you only slap his hands away.

“I didn’t mean to push you.” He’s still laughing when you manage to get up and walk away but he grabs your wrist and you look back to see him throwing down his cigarette, a grin on his face as he doesn’t let you out of his grip.

“Hey, c’mere.”

“No,” you mumble stubbornly.

“Is your ass okay?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.”

“Get lost.”

“No.”

He tugs you close and smirks now that you’re speechless, hands daring to go lower, waiting for you to have a problem, but you don’t, just allow him to glide his large palms to your ass.

“Feels okay to me.” He gives a squeeze and even though heat creeps down into your gut at the lust pooling in his eyes, you put your hands on his chest and push. He steps back with a grin and lunges after you with a hand on your elbow, laughing lowly when you playfully fight him off but he doesn’t let go.

Then a bolt of lightning strikes the atmosphere, freezing you in place, and he steps up next to you, unphased as you wait for the impending clap of thunder. Rain cascades from above and you both look up to the sky, droplets falling on your faces as you stare at the night darkened by the fast moving storm clouds. Your eyes lock and you share a look that reflects something you can’t describe - A boom shakes the world around you, nerves jumping and driving you to take off back towards the hotel, not realizing until you look over your shoulder that Yoongi’s hand is in yours as he runs behind you, a wild smile on his face.

Just as you reach the stairs, you glance down with wide eyes at both of your empty hands.

“I left the bag!” you exclaim, flinching as lightning flashes again. He looks over the distance you just crossed and jogs back over without hesitation or urgency despite the heavy winds.

Hugging yourself as you shiver under the onslaught of stinging rain, you silently beg him to hurry up as he strides back over to overshadow you, staring down with a furrow between his brows and a blink at your lips. Even though you want to interpret the way he’s looking at you through his wet bangs sticking on his face, you want to get the fuck out of the storm but as soon as your foot turns to dart up the stairs, his hand curls around the back of your neck and pulls you forward until you’re up on your toes. Pulse stuttering and eyebrows rising in shock and awe as his mouth collides with yours, you’re rendered still and breathless as he steps up to press your drenched bodies together, kissing you fervently, tipping your head up for a better angle. Storm water pours between you, and you both taste it after his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, droplets rolling down his face and into your mouth and you drink it up along with the taste of him. You don’t know what’s gotten into this man, but whatever it is, you’re living for it. You just wish, in this moment, you weren’t in the middle of a storm having the life kissed out of you.

“We’re gonna catch a cold if we keep making out in the rain,” you murmur, lips still brushing his.

“You can’t get sick just from some rain,” he retorts. You roll your eyes and tip up to kiss him chastely before twisting around to run up the stairs, not looking back as you shakily unlock the door. When his presence emerges behind you, a nervous smile breaks out on your face as you finally turn the key. The sky roars again, forcing out a laugh of adrenaline as you barrel into the door to hastily get inside.

Thank you so much for reading!! This is a terrible place to cut off but I had to split this into another part I'm sorry this chapter is taking a lot out of me and I started a new job so I'm dealing with the adjustment.

prelude part 3 will be out soon so we can move on lol. And it will be mostly smut 😅 and some yoongi pov

Comment or send an ask if you enjoyed reading and/or if you want to be added to the taglist!! (Pls have some indication on your blog that you are an adult or I will not add you!)

Feedback is appreciated - I’d love to know your thoughts!! And i love to yap in general lol

xxx - claret

masterlist

taglist:

@polarnightmyg @mar-lo-pap @wonh0oe @lixies-favorite-cookie @viankiss @futuristicenemychaos @busanbby-jjk @jajabro

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leaawrites · 2 days ago

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Enough for tonight

Noel Gallagher x fem!actress!reader

Summary: in which, she takes care of him after another long day recording.

Part of the 'Pretty Little Liar' series, but can be read as a standalone as well.

Warnings: angst, fluff, a bit toxic (maybe?), cursing

Wordcount: 1k

Part 1, Part 2, Masterlist

Standing by the doorway, she watched his head and arms move as he played a simple melody, humming ever so slightly, before hearing it back and groaning in frustration. Deleting it and doing it again. It was midnight and he had been huddled up in the room for most of the day. He would do the same thing tomorrow again.

He needed some rest, she could hear it in the way the chords were messed up ever so often. Leading to only more frustration building up inside of him.

“It’s enough for tonight, Noel,” she said, walking up behind him. Massaging the tension out of his shoulder while watching the screen light up with an unreasonable amount of tracks layered over each other. Bright colours reflecting in his glazed eyes.

“It’s not,” he disagreed, shaking his head. Leaning forward to free himself from her touch and the comfort it brought. “It’s not done yet.”

“It can be done tomorrow. It’s alright if it’s not finished today, there’s no threatening deadline to it,” she tried negotiating with him.

“There is,” he insisted, clicking through the tracks and deleting the ones he wasn’t happy with. “There is a deadline.”

“A deadline that’s still two months away. You don’t have to finish this one track now,” she said, walking around the chair, crouching down and laying her head down on his thigh. Looking up at the concern etching on his face. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Noel didn’t answer anymore, he only shook his head. Clicking through the tracks furiously, clicking through other songs. Watching all of his unfinished work become more and more. Stacking upon one another. Bits and pieces of the album, but nothing more. He’d spent most of his days inside the studio and nothing came out of it. All of it for little bits and pieces. Which was basically nothing.

His hands began to shake, the computer mouse fumbling over the screen with no other intention than making it all disappear.

“This is shit,” he mumbled. “This is all shit.”

“It’s not,” she insisted, trying to calm him down.

Taking his hand in her own, away from clicking different spots on the screen. Leaving little kisses on his palm and the back of his hand to make it stop shaking.

“It’s alright.”

His body slumped down, elbows supporting his weight on his knees so that he wouldn’t fall forward. Making sure he wouldn’t fall on her, hurting her.

“It’s alright. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

“It’s not,” he mumbled, his voice growing louder. “You just don’t fucking get it.”

Pushing her head slightly away so he could stand up without hurting her.

“You don’t know shit about this, all you do is film silly movies. You just go to set, stand in front of a camera and look pretty. There’s literally nothing more to your job. You don’t feel the same as I do. You never could. So stop saying it’s gonna be alright. Just fuck off.”

Turning around, Noel rubbed his hands over his face. Trying to wrap his head around the words that just left his mouth. He didn’t mean them, did he? Fuck no, he didn’t. It was just all too much. And screaming lies felt better than whispering truths in the moment.

He’d seen her working, had seen the strain it left on her whenever she had to rerecord a scene over and over again because it wasn’t perfect in the eyes of one individual. He had listened to her breaking down day after day and still she went back every time. She was in the same position as him more often. She wasn’t in charge of what she was going to do, it was all up to someone else.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, watching her look at him like some stranger would look if they were harassed on the street. Every stray feeling of anger leaving his body at the thought of her walking out. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what just happened. I’m so sorry, love.”

Kneeling down in front of her, he took her hands in his. Mumbling against her skin to hopefully make the words transcend into her blood and to her heart and brain. Leaving no question of doubt in her body.

“You’re such an asshole, Noel,” she answered, standing up and turning her back towards him.

Roles reversed, but their feelings stayed the same.

“I know.” He stayed sat on his place on the ground.

Looking at his hunched over figure on the floor, she couldn’t just let him stay like this. If she did, he would just go back to working. Crashing more.

Her socks appeared in his vision, making him look up. Tears straining his eyes.

Taking his hand in hers, she pulled him up. Holding him close and letting his body rely solely on her. Keeping his head buried in the crook of her neck and letting himself being dragged away from his work by her. Up the stairs and into their bedroom. Sitting down on their bed, being take care of for the first time in a long while.

Watching her walk over to the dresser and throwing him his pajamas over without looking if she hit her target. Pulling her own shirt over her head and replacing it with one of his to get comfortable. Settling down on the edge of the bed opposite him. Taking off her pants and not giving him a second glance as she settled down under the covers.

Noel got ready for bed himself, his eyes never leaving her curled up body as he changed his clothes. Walking over to her side, watching silent tears roll down her face.

“God, love,” he said, pushing some hair away from her face and helping her sit up. Sitting down next to her. Her head resting on his shoulder. Making her calm down by taking deep breaths and feeling his hand rub up and down her back.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, pulling her face close and leaning his forehead against her. Feeling her tough facade crumbling as he held her. Shaking fingers clinging to his own.

She was just as done as he was.

Shame washed over him as he noticed how weak he actually was in comparison to her.

“Don’t say that,” she whispered back, looking up with tears pooling in the corners of her eyes once more.

“But it’s the truth.” Catching a stray tear falling from her eye. “You’re too good to me to stay any longer.”

“I won’t go anywhere.” Shaking her head, she pushed herself up a bit, catching his lips with her own. “I will stay for as long as you want me to.”

#noel gallagher x fem!reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher #oasis x reader #oasis imagine #oasis fic #oasis band #oasis #britpop x you #britpop x reader #britpop imagine #britpop fanfic #britpop

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cosmique-oddity · 10 hours ago

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Cosmos and Soundwave Story Line

Made with the precious help of my mutuals @gravedwe11er and @polarpasteque

Because we thought maybe the Mecha Universe lacked a bit of a space Nerd :)

Based of @keferon ‘s AU

————————————————————————————

It felt like a rainy day, when the skies cry and you decide to stay at home, watching the weather from a point where it doesnt affect you. Intensitive at even one single drop, usually, you take a blanket and watch at these amount of water, crashing on everything. Set the world all grey.

Well space was just far bigger. Far lonelier and, as a matter of fact....just more far. He watched the little blue planet, with his white volutes the day and all the littles spotlights at night, mimicking the stars all around. Even the Black void of space was captiving, far deeper than all kind of Earth's deepest oceans. We could say....it felt like the little planet was slowly swallowed by darkness.

Cosmos understood why a lot of astronaut came back to Earth and didnt care a lot about Earth matters. How could you pay any attention at some human conflict when the space was so much bigger than human's hybris ?

He shared that opinion. When he made his first trip to the outer space, Cosmos couldnt stop himself but admire the little details, even the more basic ones ever to space life. He was almost distracted from his original mission but, happily, the man was good at multitasking.

Floating like that, in the Hermes I Station, he knew he wouldnt want to return in Earth. Ever.

And while he was gazing at the immensity of the greater dark, he didnt realized how he was trapping himself, definitely, on what he was now calling 'his great loneliness'.

Not that it was any different than on Earth, he always was that silent man, that clever and kind and courageous man. Everyone of his colleague knew to call him if they needed something.

"Call Cosmos, the one with stars and space shuttles on his desk, he is very strong, he can carry that".

He didnt even know when he became 'Cosmos'. He was useful. Everyone knew to call him for help, but the thing was...nobody really knew him for himself. He was Cosmos for everyone because that was the only distinct thing the other could tell about him. He was obsessed with the stars. Pretty average among training astronauts ? Maybe, but Cosmos physically yearned for space and stars. Everything was about that. Escaping Earth. Setting himself on a tiny space box and sort of leave this physical realm. Be among his Kind, the cosmos.

Now, among the stars, he was feeling it. The loneliness. Wasnt that different from before, but maybe more hopeless. He talked with people, yep, everyday. His Job was very important, using all the high tech tool he has at his disposal to find the Kaijus, the fastest possible, and warn the Kaiju's Extermination Organisation. He saved lifes. And on the same side, was trying to intercept any extra terrestrial communication, from Kaijus, to find something, anything that could slow their obliteration.

Cosmos was aware of their war and how they were losing it. But everything was so far in space...the program that choosed to isolate him on that tiny flying box at the edges of their gravity force and Earth's magnetical shield also prevented him from War's horrors. He didnt saw any horrible things he knew were happening. He know it, saw it on internet.

He sighed. Mostly, his work was to watch the AI of his computer do the job alone, and assist any bug he saw.

Lets say they werent a lot of them, and oftenly he was just watching any serie his internet connexion allowed him to watch. Or searching for any weird frequencies on space.

Did he said he nammed the AI Doc ? And was talking to the thing, on top of that ! Doc wasnt a bad person. His answers were just a little bit expected and repetitive...

This day was one of those empty day. No scary alien was threatening humanity. Well, in the film he was watching, Alien, he couldnt say so. Did he mention he was a space nerd ? Even the movies he watched reflected that.

And because IRL Aliens were invading his homeland didnt mean he didnt enjoyed watching similar scenario in movie. He was far from everything. It wasnt affecting him at all, this war.

The latest human he spoke to was a Mech Pilot, codnammed Jazz he was charged to monitor through space. He a was solar person, loving music... Sympathetic, you couldnt possibly hate Jazz even if you knew him only three minutes. He was Talkative enquiring for the astronaut's mental health, alone out there. Cosmos has felt compassion for him. Someone threw him too, in the middle of the biggest knowhere existying. Except everyone knew Jazz and considered, and liked him, so it was certainly difficult for the pilot to leave. It wasnt for Cosmos.

Cosmos knew he was the last living person he saw. Because Jazz vanished. Probably died. And this human was the living being he grieved the most in his whole life. He cried alone in the space station when someone ordered him to stop searching for the silenced voice of Jazz.

They didnt send another man, and that, he was glad. He prefered having emotions toward an undying AI than realizing how many people died around him.

Cosmos was sat at his desk. Question of protocol, he wouldnt imagine not being here and missing a Kaiju and being responsible of Earth's destruction. Slowly dying from oxygene loss or being swallowed by some extraterrestrial giant jaw.....or being held hostage and having eggs layed on him.....

Maybe he should stop watching that movie.

Suddendly, an audio signal howled inside the etricate desk room of the station, Cosmos paused his movie and stood up, enthusiastic. That was the radio signal ! Jazz being finally alive ? An old broadcast lost in space ??

Radio news were the most interesting informations he could have !

All happily, he floated until having the complex system of communication in his hands. He could proudly affirming he knew everything about this machinery. That was his most loyal friend and good news annoncer. And he have been to silent since Jazz disappearance.

Except this time, the intercepted message wasnt translating in words, it wasnt an audio media. His device was displaying error messages. The thing was extremely weird looking. There was some space radio wave, in a frequence he never heard of before now.

Some weird alien wave ? He was displaying itself on repeat, as if it was enscribed into the FSK modulator (that one device used to send signals via frequency through very far locations). He took the headphone and tried to module the initial suit of waves into something audible. Changing the setting everytime he heard a risible ‘pfffuit’ or a deafening ‘SHRIEEEEEERK’. Maybe he would lose his hearing before translating the enigmatic sound wave. And people would be forced to send someone after him. Someone else, less used to loneliness would be where he had been. Wondering the same things. Sleeping in the same berth. Being disposable was always an unpleasant thought.

He slowed immensely the data of the enigmatic wave, and finally began to hear something approximatively human. English it was.

“.....Noise…..”.

An erailled, full of static voice could be heard, close to Cosmos's ear, and all it was saying was a statement about what he was hearing from the beginning of his manipulation. What the hell was this message ? It was coming from so far ? Was it alien ?? Did he finally succeed on the mission of finding another life form or even more interesting, secret Kaiju's comm line ??? Were the extraterrestrial sentient after all ???

He slowed even more and passed on another frequency. The message kept its static and emotionless deincarnated voice but the pronounciation was perfect and audible.

“Noise : excede the safe amount” “Sentient local specie : Endangered” “{QQZERRTEAAASS} : might and will hear”.

What was that ? The first alien broadcasted message in history and it was telling him to shut the fuck up ?

The unbearable piercing scriieech sound before ‘might and will hear’ was not rocket science to understand. That was probably speaking about the Kaijus. Kaiju and danger formed a loving couple from the past decade.

He took some time to mentally register the information before imobilizing. Eyes wide. Another signal was displaying. And its been on display for longer than he noticed. That was Kaiju's detection signal. His heart stopped for a while. Since how long had he been focused on the translation of the alien message ?

Floating as fast as he could. Wich must have been fun to watch if he wasnt alone, Cosmos crossed the distance between the modulator and the board computer for the second time of the day. Faster.

He read, panicking highly, all the pings across the screen and finally allowed his heart to slow down.

He was wrong. He was not that useful. Doc took care of the attack, he…..it warned the Extermination Organisation, and triangulated the position for the intel responsibles back on Earth.

The only thing it needed from Cosmos was writing a report and archive all the attack's metrics.

He sighed. Doc wouldve done very well without him, if he could automatize this part of the script, he would be officialy useless.

He nervously scratched his curly ginger hairs. He hadnt noticed how long they got (not that long but longer than the classic military haircut he adopted at the beginning of his formation). Useless ?

No. Cosmos had now the most important mission of humanity. He had to answer back to the alien form that wasnt (probably) a Kaiju. He worked on Doc's automatization for a while, remembering suddenly he had to eat at some point. Biting proudly in his sandwich, he told the AI.

“I cannot assist you anymore, old friend, i have my own mission to accomplish now, im going to talk to the Alien. And if i can convince him to help, then maybe i can save Earth !”.

A small little voice inside of him asked if he wasnt completely insane and delusionnal and wasnt inventing himself a mission to prove he wasnt worthless. He shut the voice. He was Cosmos ! He would talk to the alien. Peoples would remember him, they would remember because they would survive !

………………….

He spend weeks into trying to imitate the complex alien sound wave. This was so fast, so evoluated, and yet, the data was speaking a perfect english ? How was it possible ?

He frowned.

“Try again buddy, your Alien is going to be bored of you”.

He was calling the very small message he recieved ‘His Alien’ and wrote several copy of what it was saying on papiers and pinged these on the walls. Like a serial killer.

His own message, “Are you another sentient life form ? My name is Cosmos”

Wasnt definitely as professionnal as he would make himself believe, but he was trying to convert it to the same kind of radio wave as he recieved.

He has to remember how he translated the message in the first time.

And invert the protocol.

But his FSK modulator was simply not strong enough. He had to power down a few things. Useless things absolutely. And only for a few seconds. Nothing too dangerous about that. He definitely wasnt a small human in the middle of uncooperative environment.

The man inspired deeply and started his protocol, disabling the lights of the station, and preserving the oxygene system at all cost, along with the pressurisation system and basically all life preserving systems.

It worked. He had his message. He could send him via the FSK modulator.

He pressed the button and smiled deeply. He just send a message to an Alien !

“Hey doc ! Guess who established contact with the Alien ! Oh oh im going to ask him sooo many questions !”.

No answer. Cosmos remembered having to disable settings about conversation in order to efficiently make Doc replace his work.

He felt incredibly lonely.

“Im sorry i had to silence you Doc….”.

The signal of external message ! Again ! And that quickly ??? How.

Hyperventilating, Cosmos giggled to himself and turned to the modulator. The translating part was much easier now that he did it one time.

“Designation : Soundwave”. “Query to Cosmos : why answering ?” “Procedure of making further noise : susceptible to increase the attention of {QQZERRTEAAASS}”.

Oh, so his Alien was really a Soundwave. That was his name…. Funny.

The Kaijus again ? And this weird speaking manner again ? He thought for a couple of second about an adequate answer…But there werent any established protocol in case of contact with intelligent aliens. The Kaijus couldnt speak with them. They tried, so this meaned Cosmos was doing that freely. Nobody knew, nobody done that before. He was free to speak to the Alien as unprofesionnal as he wanted. He could tell his governement later.

“The Quiizertas ? Already noticed us. And attacked, more or less sound wont change anything about that”.

The answer was quicker again

“Prononciation of opposant : incorrect”. “Reading : /’kwin:n'te'zau:n/”. “Status planet ?”

The voice asked. And using the phonetical alphabet with that ?? Where did an Alien learned that ??

Cosmos bit his lips and answered, with an intensified apprehension.

“Planet uuuh. Under attack. Of the Quintessons” He translated with his own vocabulary, excited at the idea of inventing a new word. “Resisting with our technology but its barely enough. We need help”.

“Earth : very small” “efficiency of resistance : surprisingly high”. “Soundwave : cannot provide help at the moment. But i need to understand what is making your fight against quintessons fair”.

Cosmos blinked in front of his modulator.

“What ? Fair ??? We are being destroyed here and he call that a fair fight ?”. He paused. He had more conversation with this Soundwave than with any human being since Jazz. He might getting attached to the outer life form if he kept answering his question with fairness.

“Cosmos, stop. He could look like a pudding, or even not being material”.

Right. The name was Soundwave, the alien could be only made of sound waves.

He could also be a Xenomorph and lay eggs on him at the first occasion. The young astronaut didnt want to die with his stomach perforated !!! It looked very painful in the movies….

“Hoping its a E.T. kind of alien….”

“Are you hostile to my planet or kind ?”.

He shyly asked. Kai- Quintessons were enough trouble for his ‘small’ planet. Oh god it was his new favorite word ! He invented it. Well….technically he just translated with his own alphabet the phonetical alphabet Soundwave gave him. Hm.

His answer was quick.

“Your Specie : dont seems hostile towards our kind”. “Conflict : not wanted”.

Well that was positive at least.

“Is it some kind of space alliance ?”

The answer arrived later than the others times, and for a couple of stressful minutes, Cosmos feared that all of that was just a dream. Wich was possible, considering how he ate the whole pack of his last cookies last night. Maybe he was sick. At this moment, the answer arrived at his ears.

“Alliance : would benefit both of our planets. What is your status among your specie ?”.

Cosmos took some times to take off the headphone and start a gravity-free dance of victory.

“i….made….an alliance….with a fricking alien….!”

Or maybe the Alien would suck all of his internal organes out of his body and lay eggs on his brain. Maybe.

But, but maybe he would save all of them from the Kaiju, and they would befriend their specie ! Yeah. More probable. And Cosmos would be the first human to have made contact with them ! So they would like him. Soundwave might be as excited as himself was to discover another specie ! He would listen everything, because data about alien was a common source of enjoyment. He wouldnt even have to say something interesting !

Cosmos reached Doc's screen and yelled at him with a joyful tone.

“Doc ! Guess who just made the first pacific contact with another life form ! From another planet ! Perhaps even galaxy !”.

All full of wonders and lively, Cosmos answered Soundwave again.

What was the question ? Ah yes, “statut among specie”.

“I am erm…..Space Explorer. And Responsible of all communications to report and locate the Kai….Quintessons”.

He tried to make his post sound cool and not ‘im just a guy assisting an AI far more developped than me and honestly i feel useless”.

“Soundwave's statut : Communication and Information Officer among Cybertronian's forces”.

That sounded very military. The good or bad side of this information was debatable. On one hand it was surely better than just have Soundwave as an ally. But an Alien army ? It was more dangereous than just innocently talking to Soundwave… For a random reason, he had the impression the word ‘among’ has been twisted a little in comparaison of the otherwise perfect pronounciation of Soundwave's voice.

“Great i suppose. This mean we are kind of similar in statut….?” “By the way…..”

He cut himself at the middle of his answer, thinking about it before answering. What was the most pressing question about the extraterrestrial being at the other side of his spatial Phone ?

Wait. He had it.

“How do you speak exactly the same language as me ?”

That was a question. For the first time since the recieving of that first call, Cosmos wondered if someone was just playing with him since the beginning, making him look like a fool for his own distraction. Wont be the first time. Was Soundwave an Alien ? What stupide name was even Soundwave ? The answer stopped his spiraling.

“Soundwave : recieved radio wave from your planet : cracked the language code. Very interested on a large panel of codes and language, find the understanding of foreign dialects : very stimulating”.

Oh funny one, Soundwave considered his language like a code to break. The Alien was very interesting, and wait a sec

“Your heard the radio waves ? But you must be very far from Earth, the waves must have distorded every sound and mixing with others space sounds”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener”.

What did he meant by that ? But another voice line could be heard now.

“But data from radio waves : insufficient”. “Interfacing with local technology : optimal for the comprehension of your successful resistance”.

Interfacing ?

“You want to come here ? To Earth”.

“Yes”.

That last message was very short but awakened an insatiable curiosity in the Astronaut's heart.

“Oh my god my Alien is going to visit us” he whispered with joy.

One last question, because he felt brave.

“May i continue asking you questions while you uh…..travel to my planet ?”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener. And is feeling curiosity towards your specie”.

The voice repeated his phrasing “May I ask you questions ?”.

And Cosmos's loneliness slowly faded away.

——————————————————————————————

Annnd here is my little Cosmonaute <3 had to make a design for him

Welcome to the ginger club, blorbo.

Soundwave’s is coming soon he will look like his TF One self, with some modifications, in order to effectively hide himself from Earthling that are more Earthling than Cosmos hehe….because tf1 Soundwave is some sort of space ship. It’s not very useful when you want to hide from our paranoid society

(You guys will like it !!)

Ps : Hi Keferon ! I know you don’t necessarily seek for the ramifications of your AU if it doesn’t connect with you but I hope you will like this little story/introduction to my sweet platonic space chilling ship)

#:d #tf mecha universe #transformers #tf mecha au #maccadam #coswave #soundwave #soundwave cosmos #cosmos #cosmos humanformers

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a-rayneart · 22 hours ago

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Just finished season 4 of MASH

I know this art blog is quickly becoming a MASH rampage (not intentional, I swear) but I really want to give my thoughts on the season 4 finale and this seems like the best place to do it.

An incomplete list of every moment that struck me in S4E24: The Interview:

Hawkeye's demeanour in this episode is entirely different than in 'Yankee Doodle doctor', particularly his behaviour toward the film crew. This is unsurprising, but still significant to me.

I loved hearing Radar talk about his earthworms. I love whenever the characters engage in genuine hobbies outside of their jobs in the army, but hearing Radar babble about his earthworms was especially lovely.

"War is just killing, that's all." - Klinger

Hawkeye is so honest this episode, and he does it all with this completely checked out look, eyes glazed over.

Hawkeye also sums up his whole entire character. He talks about putting on a 'coat' of morale just to make others stop believing in where they are because it's the only way he can feel present. He also get's asked how he stays sane, which is pretty significant foreshadowing, to which he answer with a list of frankly insane things to do. It reminds me of the S1 episode where he pretended to lose it in order to get time off, but also of all the little times in episodes where he did something that was a bit outlandish, a bit crazy, and somehow also made perfect sense, like when he (briefly) pretended to be a corpse in an attempt to get back to his father.

"There's so much more to care about," and "It just doesn't matter anymore," are two things Hawk says in basically one breath and boy is that relatable.

I've already seen this clip but Mulcahy talking about the steam and the bodies in the cold hurts every time.

Genuine, non-sexual focus and appreciation for the nurses and the jobs they do.

Referencing the episode where Radar get's drunk in Tokyo and him looking so abashed about it.

"If I knew all the answers, I'd run for God." -Klinger again

More on Klinger– Usually he takes advantage of any opportunity to display his insanity to higher ups. He doesn't do that here. He talks entirely sincerely about his joy for home and his hate for the war. You can really see every emotion on his face. He is so real.

Radar's compassion for the local Koreans. There's something special about it coming from him specifically that I can't quite pinpoint but I love it. Maybe because he comes from such a similar background but is now in a position where the people he answers to tell him that he's better than them. I think Radar must feel he has more in common with the local farmers than with his own colleagues.

I've never thought about it before, but it makes so much sense that Potter misses being around people his own age, and I could probably go on about that forever but I probably shouldn't.

Father Mulcahy looks so tired.

BJ smiles when he greets his wife and daughter, but when he looks down he looks devastated. How hard must it be to talk to his family through a TV screen. The acting in this episode it amazing.

I think it was BJ who talked about being torn between his love for the people he worked with and wanting to erase them from his memory, which reminded me of a line from the MASH fanfic I wrote before I even watched this episode; 'Nothing makes me happier than having people to miss, and that they’re far enough away that I can miss them.' (Check out my short fic, it's called After Life - Hawkeye's Poem)

The narrator ends by saying that they're doing what they do best but what they'd rather not do in a place they'd rather not be and I think that's just about the point of the show

All said, amazing episode, perfect acting, did what just about every episode of MASH does and gave me a deep sense of melancholy. I've seen a lot about this episode on here and I totally get why but I think we should also give some appreciation to the episode before it (Deluge) because I genuinely believe that that was just as good.

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azaharinflames · 2 days ago

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Curently 911 is filming episode 11 & 12, and Lou is working on another project. There's no way he's working on 9-1-1 at the same time. LA traffic alone wouldn't allow it.

I thought I have prepared my heart for the possibility of Bucktommy not going back together again. But a new affirmative sign like this still hurts me a little 😔.

Hi, Nonnie!

Listen, I get it. But in my honest opinion? Lou was never gonna come back in the first eps of 8b. We know 9&10 are mostly going to deal with Maddie’s kidnapping and Tim has teased the end of ep 10 changes everyone’s life. Now, you can choose to be a bit skeptical about that part. I know I am.

Either way, we know post ep 10 there is a time jump. My personal theory is that it won’t be a super big one, rather it will be a natural time jump (to make it so what happens in the series happens at the same time as we watch it), and the first couple eps will be to establish some SLs.

Personal theory? We will see the rebound for Buck that Tim teased. I do believe it won’t last more than a couple eps. And then we’ll probably have Buck exploring or trying to get to know himself better. Boring and overused, but if they go in any other direction I will be genuinely surprised.

If/when Tommy comes back… honestly I don’t think it’ll be any earlier than at least midway through 8b, if not in the last couple of eps or even in the last one. Mostly so the audience is hooked for the next season but also because it wouldn’t make sense to make the audience go through the bs of 806-808 if things were going to be fine a few eps later.

We have to remember Tommy is not a main. Most likely, if Buck and he manage to find each other again, it will be something to mostly happen off-season, imo. As in, we will have a cute reunion on screen, then the season will end, then (perhaps based on the reaction idk) we’ll start the next season (if we get one) already with them having worked through their issues.

I know the idea of it sucks a bit but hey. They had Tarlos say their ILYs off-season. So. I wouldn’t be too surprised lmao.

(Also if he does not come back for this season, I honestly think he will only come back if they need a HEA for Buck once the series ends and Lou is available for that. Because imho they are not finding a LI that works better than him any time soon)

As for Lou’s filming schedule, I wouldn’t put too much weight on it. Mostly because we don’t know it. We don’t know if he’s mostly done with the sketch show, or if he only has to shoot 3 days a week, or what. Nothing tells us shooting that and shooting 911 is something impossible to combine.

And I don’t want to pretend I know something will happen, or give anyone false hope. I’m the first person who truly expects nothing from this show anymore and who knows chances are we will be disappointed, because the show has shown us we can’t trust it. Just wanted to point out some things ;)

Anyway, my inbox is open for venting, ranting, and giving your opinions! Physical therapy has been kicking my ass this week but I’ll try to be more present (don’t tear your meniscus, babes. I highly do not recommend)

Take care <3

#bucktommy #tevan #tommy kinard #lou ferrigno jr #anon ❣️

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distant--shadow · 2 days ago

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Yeah, it's 100% an issue of question curation, not an issue with questions being asked. There's literally no way that you could know that without specifically seeking out questions that were submitted but not answered, but I guess some people are expecting you to be clairvoyant...

It's a shame because it's probably the only fireside chat Laura'll do for at least a year. I think the quesitons that get the most repeat submissions are always going to be the memey ones, which is why they really need a dedicated person to pick out the most interesting questions during fireside chats, otherwise we're just gonna keep getting shallow questions.

Also, I was just thinking the other day about how girlfailure is kinda like the new bimbo and it bothers me. Like, yeah, it means ditzy and klutzy and we can say it affectionately all we like, we're still kinda trivialising feminity. It's also a really clunky word that sounds bad to say. If you wanna talk more about it, I'd like to hear it

I feel you here, but as I keep tryna say I don't think it's 100% an issue on curation, because those silly questions had to be submitted in the first place, and the person curating them has to have some sort of belief or knowledge that it is what the audience wants to hear. I can take an argument for lightheartedness, but as I said, it's within the context of all of the grievances people have had with this campaign, I guess paired maybe with underlying concerns I could have about them tryna appeal to a certain crowd, and how that could effect the main campaign format eventually. I don't know the current time line for recording, so there's all chance that the latest episode was filmed an amount of time before the fireside chat, so that added to wanting to steer from too current questions as it would maybe spoil. but then again I say, the show didn't have to be this week. and you're very right, it is so frustrating because we have a lot less of a look behind the curtain with this campaign than we did c2, and yes they're so busy, but it's frustrating because we (or at least I) don't want any of the bells and whistles in this extra content. I'm not looking to fulfil a social need watching them hang out, I want to get a grasp of what is going on, or at least not have it replaced by the goofing.

of course part of why I was posting initially with pretty heavy words is because I was feeling pissed off about it, you wait a long time for something to come round and it just feels like the same information rehashed to you, or yeah as I said in other posts, it feels like an obvious infiltration of fandom and like you're getting pandered to. and hey, maybe that's the fault of this campaign, maybe the majority feel it's so lacking they'd rather say fuck it, I'd rather AU to everyone's face.

I'll say a little bit on the girl failure thing, because I am almost certain people have written good and thought out essays and pieces on this stuff, but what I will say is what my gut says. firstly, there has been a huge up tick in the use of girl by women in general in recent years, and as a simple quick note on that: I don't like it. it shows a denial of aging, a wish to not be associated with what is woman, as well as literally the word for a child. yes, I understand the complexities of a society where getting houses and a lot of these other classic age associated milestones are really hard if not impossible, and that language evolves and definitions change, but what a denial of the experiences you do get to have instead. there's a lot of freedoms we have that prior generations haven't. to go through all of that and still call other women girls is just. it's not it. I can understand an argument for preference, but as I said, to use it for others is infantilising. showing my age here, I'm sure, but it's the way girl has become like an identity vs woman. why are you so scared of being a woman? what is it about if that you dislike? how does that play into-

girlfailure, and people using it so casually for everything and it becoming a meme.

language is important. and I shoudlnt be allowed to say that because I haven't proof read a post in my life and I've got a sieve brain from years of drug use. but the language you use plants seeds. when you make jokes and belittle yourself, do you know what kind of people see that and think, huh, well if they're saying it it's fine for me to say it too, and who goes on to repeat it the loudest? how, genuinely, I genuinely believe this, yknow, you watch those videos and read those pieces on how people basically become fascists without realising, from the wildest paths. that it's often a long chain of events. behaviour starts somewhere. and yeah, this is a huge dumbing down and simplification of that and I'm sure a lot of people will argue I'm being delusional and dramatique', but associating a negative trait with a gender or a sex or a race or ability, making it a meme, using that meme, even if it's initially only used by the people it applies to, it gets co-opted by those it doesn't, and in time is used as ammunition against them. do I think that every person saying girlfailure or girlmath is using it with vicious intent? no. but I'm old enough to have grown up with changing vocabulary and words that are derogatory and thought of as totally fine to use in every day language and were in reality dehumanising and or belittling the people they were used against. basically? girlfailure gives me the ick. sure, girlfail all over yourself if you have to. don't use it for other women. don't put it out there.

it's never made sense for me for Imogen. yeah, she's a goof at times, but her failures are literally dice rolls, why is no one else a girlfailure? she's been rediculously perceptive (lol not visually) so many fucking times. what do you mean all you've wanted is for Imogen to be a girlfailure? you want her to flunk everything she attempts? doesn't seem to line up with the Imogen I very much enjoy seeing and people claim is what they love to see.

finally, and this might be huge news to some people, I can think girlfailure is a shitty term and propagating misogyny, and that doesn't take away from how much of my concerns are focused in areas that need more attention, doesn't mean it's all I care about. as I'm always saying, change happens locally, within communities. change starts with small actions as well as big ones. language is important. if you don't see how small things play into the big things then I'm sorry, the world isn't that simple. dehumanising and the like starts at micro levels. and before u know it it's law.

#salty shadow #I knowwww people are gonna call me delusional for this but change my mind other than saying omg ur so dumb that's literally not how things #work #I know yous are gonna try compare me to mums who think video games teach their kids to be violent or something #whatever #sticks and stones never made sense when words write laws

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youngsadlesbian · 3 days ago

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Can you do one Taylor x daughter reader, pls?

Where the reader is dating Sadie secretly and Taylor caught the reader sneaking out.

But Taylor through she is dating Gracie Abrams.

So when the reader invites Gracie and Sadie over, Taylor started asking Gracie questions about their relationship and teasing them. This caused Sadie to get jealous

YOU BELONG WITH ME

pairing: taylor swift x daughter!reader

summary: keeping a relationship a secret isn't as easy as it seems, especially when your mom is taylor swift.

a/n: thank you so much for your request. i hope you like it.

word count: 1,2k

warnings: a little bit of angst but mostlyfluff <3

You didn’t expect her to be there.

It was late 2021, and you had been dragged to a photoshoot for what your mom called a “special project.” She was directing the All Too Well short film, and while you had no active role in the process, she thought it would be a “fun bonding experience” to bring you along.

"Come on," Taylor had coaxed as she slipped on her signature red lipstick. "You’ll love it. It’s going to be cinematic."

You had rolled your eyes, muttering something about how you’d rather stay home. But, as usual, you went. You were 15, and saying no to Taylor Swift wasn’t exactly in the cards.

Then you saw her.

Sadie Sink walked in, fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders and a smile that seemed to light up the entire room. You recognized her immediately from Stranger Things, a show you adored but never admitted to loving because everyone knew your mom worked with Netflix, and that felt like an unfair bias.

Sadie had this presence about her—an effortless magnetism. She greeted everyone warmly, her voice soft yet commanding.

When her gaze finally landed on you, your breath hitched.

"Hi," she said with a smile, extending her hand. "I’m Sadie."

You stared at her for a beat too long, your brain scrambling to come up with something remotely intelligent to say. "Hi," you mumbled, finally shaking her hand. "I—I know who you are."

She laughed lightly, a sound that instantly warmed you. "And you are?"

You gave her your name, your cheeks burning as she repeated it softly, like she was trying it out for the first time.

That day, you spent most of the shoot lurking in the background, trying to stay invisible while sneaking glances at Sadie. She caught you more than once, each time flashing you a knowing smile that made your stomach flip.

Over the next few years, you and Sadie grew closer. It started with casual text exchanges—her asking for your opinion on a script, you sharing memes to make her laugh. Those texts turned into late-night FaceTime calls, where you talked about everything from movies to the pressure of being in the public eye.

Sadie became your confidante, your safe place. She was there when you bombed your driving test, offering reassurance that "parallel parking is a scam anyway." She was there when you felt suffocated by the constant comparisons to your mom, reminding you that you were your own person.

But somewhere along the way, your feelings for her shifted.

You were 19, sitting in her apartment in New York, watching an old rom-com on Netflix. She laughed at a particularly cheesy scene, her head tilting back, and you couldn’t stop staring.

Your heart raced as you realized what was happening. You were falling for her—had already fallen, maybe.

\*/

It took months for you to confess.

"I think I’m in love with you," you blurted out one evening as you stood in her doorway, your palms sweaty and your voice shaky.

Sadie froze, her eyes widening. For a moment, you thought you’d ruined everything. Then she stepped closer, her hands gently cupping your face.

"I’ve been waiting for you to say that," she whispered before leaning in and kissing you.

Dating Sadie was everything you’d hoped it would be—sweet, thrilling, and full of laughter. But it wasn’t without its challenges.

You both agreed to keep the relationship a secret. Sadie wasn’t sure how the public would react, and you weren’t ready to tell your mom. Taylor adored Sadie, but in her mind, Sadie was still the actress who had played a version of her younger self. The idea of you two as a couple was... complicated.

So, you snuck around.

"I’m meeting Sabrina for coffee," you’d tell your mom before slipping out the door.

Or, "Jules wants to binge some dumb show. I’ll be back late."

At first, Taylor didn’t question it. But when you started overusing Gracie Abrams as an excuse, her suspicions grew.

"You’ve been spending a lot of time with Gracie lately," she remarked one evening, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

"She’s been working on some new music," you replied, feigning nonchalance.

"Ah," Taylor said, her lips twitching into a smile. "She’s very talented. And very pretty."

You choked on your water. "What?"

Taylor shrugged. "I’m just saying, if there’s something going on, you can tell me."

"There’s nothing going on," you insisted, your voice a little too high-pitched.

Things came to a head when Taylor decided to host a dinner party. She invited Sadie, Gracie, Sabrina, and a few other friends under the guise of a casual get-together.

"Isn’t this fun?" Taylor said as she poured sparkling water for everyone.

You sat at the table, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Sadie was directly across from you, her eyes flicking between you and Gracie.

"So, Gracie," Taylor began, her tone overly casual, "how long have you and my daughter been... close?"

Gracie blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Uh, we’ve been friends for a while."

Taylor nodded, her smile widening. "Friends. Right."

Sadie’s jaw tightened, and you could see the hurt in her eyes.

"Mom," you said through gritted teeth, "can we not?"

"What?" Taylor asked, feigning innocence. "I’m just curious."

The rest of the dinner was painfully awkward. Sadie barely spoke, and by the end of the night, you could feel the tension radiating off her.

\*/

Later, you found her sitting on the front steps, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Sadie," you said softly, sitting down beside her.

She didn’t look at you. "Is this what I am to you? A secret?"

"No," you said quickly, your voice trembling. "You’re everything to me."

"Then why does it feel like you’re ashamed of us?"

"I’m not," you insisted, tears welling in your eyes. "I just... I didn’t know how to tell her. You know how she is."

Sadie finally turned to you, her eyes glistening. "I love you, but I can’t keep doing this if it means hiding who we are."

You took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "You’re right. I’ll tell her. Tomorrow. I promise."

The next morning, you sat Taylor down, your heart pounding.

"Mom, I need to tell you something," you began.

Taylor set down her coffee cup, her expression serious. "What’s wrong?"

You took a deep breath. "I’m not dating Gracie. I’m dating Sadie."

Taylor stared at you, her brows furrowing. "Sadie?"

"Yes," you said, bracing yourself for her reaction.

To your surprise, her lips curved into a smile. "Well, that makes so much more sense."

"You’re... not mad?" you asked, your voice laced with disbelief.

"Why would I be mad?" she asked. "I love Sadie. I just wish you’d told me sooner."

Relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

That evening, you and Sadie curled up on her couch, the weight of secrecy finally lifted.

"She took it better than I expected," Sadie said, a small smile playing on her lips.

"She loves you," you replied, resting your head on her shoulder.

Sadie kissed the top of your head. "And I love you."

For the first time in months, everything felt right.

#taylor swift x reader #taylor swift x you #taylor swift

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poppitron360 · 2 days ago

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- Yes, it is called Sun-travel but he doesn’t use it very often bc it makes him very tired and drains him really quickly. The underground thing is a great idea and yeah I was kinda thinking along those lines but also in general the fact that he has both powers of light and dark, death and healing make him feel conflicted inside. I don’t think he’d hate being underground because it’s closer to his other grandfather’s domain and he knows his way around it, but it might hinder their escape plan.

- He might get a little bit injured, but he has two best friends that love him very much and do their best to make sure he is being careful. I’ll need to do some more research into the alternatives (I’ve never used a binder myself) but Isabella always offers to lend him her baggiest clothes and makes sure he’s taking breaks.

- I love it too. All three characters have to deal with it in some way- Finley for obvious reasons but also Olympia has spent her whole life living in the shadow of the two most legendary demigods in the world (Percy and Annabeth). Isabella is adopted and no spoilers but we find out something about her birth heritage that makes her feel rather conflicted, and Finley is the one who comforts her by saying that it doesn’t matter what she was born as because she is a Valdez.

- I’m not sure how to include that it the fic yet but Nico literally killed a guy in canon so I don’t think any transphobe is walking away from that interaction at the very least with all of their limbs. Aside from that, he is besties with the daughter of Jason Valdez- renowned Roman swordfighter, and the daughter of Percy Jackson- renowned Greek swordfighter, and both Isabella and Olympia take after their dads in that respect.

- I might talk about Finley/Isabella hcs in its own seperate post and/or in the ask you sent me, bc I need everyone to know about them.

- Was it a gift from Apollo? *opens up notes app and types something* It is now! The med kit follows the same rules as Leo’s tool belt in that it can’t produce super magic items and needs a cool-down time. It can make nectar and ambrosia but it has a daily limit, so they still pack extra.

- That is so genius and I too got my Star Wars obsession from my dad. We would block off entire days to have movie marathons, and some of my favourite childhood memories involve watching the films for the first time. Will would totally do the same thing, but Nico can absolutely get him back by showing Finley old 1930s motion pictures. Finley also loves Mythomagic.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE QUESTIONS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND LOVE TALKING ABOUT HIM!

Okay so I might’ve mentioned that I’m writing a fic where the children of Percabeth, Solangelo, and Valgrace go on an epic quest to rescue their parents and the rest of the Seven from the clutches of evil and I’ve kinda been Hyperfixating on it for a while so here is the first character I would like to info-dump about.

Meet Finley Di Angelo-Solace!!!

He’s currently my favourite out of the Next-gen trio and definitely the one I have the most fun writing for. I genuinely love him sm.

Rant under the cut-

Fin is the son of Nico and Will, and was created using divine godly magic so is biologically both theirs (hey if Zeus can have a baby from his thigh this can happen)

His powers are a complex amalgamation of both of his parents: he can shadow-travel in sunlight, he can heal and talk to the dead and his main weapon is archery

He’s autistic

He has hypersensitive hearing (it could be an Apollo thing, it could be an Autism thing we don’t know. It’s probably both)

He prefers ranged combat partially because he is touch-averse and likes to keep his distance (also bc the other two characters both use melee weapons so I needed some variety)

I see your “Trans Will Solace” hc and I raise you- “Transmasc son of Solangelo who they love and support so so much”

He will INSIST on wearing a binder throughout the entire quest, rib cage be damned! (This will become a problem bc apparently you’re supposed to take breaks and you’re not supposed to do any physical exercise in them so running around chasing monsters is not gonna go well)

A big theme in the fic is gonna be “names have power- but the name you choose is so much more important than the name you were given”, a continuation of the theme from my Married Valgrace AU (which this is canon to) where Jason chooses to take Leo’s name instead of keeping the name of the mom that abandoned him. I feel like Finley would be a great character to symbolise this- someone who chose his own name.

His favourite colour is green/turquoise

Think of Nico’s scariest moment that you’ve read in canon or in a fic- where he is just a force of complete and utter darkness and death. Are you picturing it? Good. Now multiply that by ten. Now imagine someone tried to misgender his child.

The same can be applied to Will. No transphobe would dare mess with Solangelo’s boy.

He is childhood best friends with the two other main characters, Isabella and Olympia, and talks to them a lot but is kinda shy around everyone else.

He also has a major crush on Isabella- the daughter of Valgrace. I have so many cute hcs about those two y’all have no idea.

He is good with medicine and has a magic first-aid kit that acts a lot like Leo’s tool belt with replenishing supplies.

He loves Star Wars

While all the other characters’ POV chapters have regular PJO-style funny titles, all his chapter titles are TOA-esque haikus.

@demigod-shenanigans @twomanyfandomshelp @puzzled-pegasus @m-for-now @lavenderfairiez @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @hadeslegacyhephgirl @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @inky-void @deciduowl @day-draws

#pjo next gen #finley di angelo-solace #did he get the idea and or did he have help from kayla i need to know #<- prev tags #he kinda got the idea himself but Olympia also has dyed hair so they dye it together #kayla also showed him how to do it the first time

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faaun · 1 year ago

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Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

#saw carnation lily lily rose by john singer seargent irl today. it was basically at my doorstep all along idk why i never went to see it #it was placed at a corner in the gallery. me and my friend sat down and sketched the paintings of beautiful naked people quite badly. paper #provided by tate britain. she told me about how she couldnt look her boyfriend in the face after a harrowing film about war. when i say the #interview was informal i mean the person who was supposed to be my boss told me let me get you a cider and then he said after #50 years of life he knows people are inherently good and it only takes a little bit of kindness to save this world. he said he tricked #his wife into keeping the baby and then he said he quit his job at a US bank to help people find meaning and in it #he would have liked to find meaning. instead he started climbing with his friends. he said he chews his cigarettes because its a habit from #when he had to hide things from people. the entire time i felt uncomfortable and incredibly enlightened. this is my friends mentor. she has #his pattern of pauses and expletive and penchant for ends-justify-means attitude. i do think im not very clever #but maybe one day i will love you enough to make up for it. i wrote code i dont understand staring at the final error i thought about how #we both thought of how when we're too old to remember the voices of our friends we would like to stand in the pathway of the LHC beam pipe #cut it open and eat light in the freezing cold vacuum (kills you long before radiation will) the invisible puncture wound unfolding dna #back to the start larger than you ever were. you go to heaven once youve been to hell. my friend is in my bed #practicing calculations of eigenvectors by hand and she is uninterested in a visual proof you are uninterested in incompetence #we catch a train this is your kind of burden you tragic hero wincing at that word you only do this because you have to. im the only one #who can. i am a coward in this for the fucking poetry. the visual proofs. the pretty numbers. an architect who was horrible at maths wanted #to be a philosopher and accidentally ended up neck in deep in 70th Error On Visual Studio Code i want to kiss your eyes before we say #goodbye we both know there is no love in the way there should be. I still have your dress in my wardrobe. i hope you make art.#you think im alright head-wise i think you fucking hate me i think ill never be so clever you want me to tell you my idea?#if you wanted more of this world i would have liked to kiss you harder. we cant both be like this. im sorry i cant be with you the whole wa #the love is gone if you have to ask it. his breath catches his eyes feel stiff it is -1.9 kelvin he is near the beam pipe i miss holding #his hand i miss her singing voice i miss his hair and i found the antonym of pain thank you for carrying me home.

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katierosefun · 1 year ago

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my cancelled-able trait from the queer community would be that i really apparently love messy endings. i love u happy endings and i also love u such sad, messy, ambiguous endings . . . i love u endings where u have this weird pit in the bottom of your stomach because you know that there's love here but u have no idea what to do with it and u just have to deal with the fact that someone is profoundly affecting your life and you're not gonna get closure from it anytime soon . . . i love u queer love stories where it's really just "u don't always get to see the sunshine and rainbows at the end of it . . . sometimes all that's left is just one big question mark and the quiet hope that they get their shit together" . . .

#caroline talks #don't get me wrong. i love u happy endings. esp when it comes to queer love stories #but i also just. love endings where it's just like. well. u DON'T know for certain whether the characters #are truly going to ride off into the sunset together.#the only thing u know for certain is that they love each other and that they're going to have to grapple with that forever.#maybe it's also just bc like. idk. i took too many film classes and so my head's forever stuck #on this one essay about how some really happy endings feel lifeless.#like how in some ending shots. the characters look like they've had their happy ending. but there's also some weird unease and confusion #and it's like. well yeah. because for every happy moment u get in life. u are still already thinking 'well what's next. what now.'#which is fascinating to me. but also me @ me: god maybe u can just be happy and it's not that deep.#but also. i do love the wonderful ambiguity of just. 'there is so much more to live. so much more to do.'#and i guess it's not just for queer love stories. i think a lot about the ending of my mister.#with lee ji an and park dong hoon walking away from each other but they're happy. u have no idea how their relationship will pan out but u #do know that they love each other.#or like. columbus. with jin and casey. they hug each other and thank each other for being in the other's lives.#and jin says goodbye to casey and casey says goodbye to jin and u have no idea if they'll see each other again. but u know they love each #other so very much. even if they'd only known each other for a second.#or like. beginners. anna and oliver love each other so much and u get this sense that. they're still a little bit uneasy/nervous about how #the rest of their lives are going to go. but they'll try.#or. god. the swearing jar.#the last shot. i think about it a lot.#there is love!!! but u don't always know how the rest of it is going to pan out!!! u just know that it'll pan out somehow!

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brittlebutch · 1 year ago

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Desperately trying to make sense of Alex's motivations in Season Two and you know, I do eventually have to wonder if maybe Alex wasn't actually lying in the majority of those tapes.

Like, we tend to assume that Alex's motivations have been a consistent throughline since the college years, but do we actually know that that's the case? Do we know for sure that Alex was acting in deliberate, calculated ways in 2006; or could it be that he's telling the Truth on those olds tapes when he says he's blacking out and can't remember what's happening to anyone? After all, if we're assuming that Season 2 Alex's motivations are the exact same as his motives in Season 3, then it doesn't make any sense at all that he spend months working with Jay to try to find Amy; Season 3 Alex would have attempted to kill Jay like, on sight just to get things over with as quickly as possible and contain the spread of contamination as best as he could.

But, maybe, if Alex really had been separated from Amy after the events of the 04-04-10 tape, and if he really doesn't know where she is, then maybe that could make things start to make more sense. Maybe he really had been watching Jay's channel, and seeing Jay start going through the same things he went through in college without things devolving into violence and disappearances, and wondered if things maybe could play out differently this time. Maybe he really did send that tape to Jay to ask him for help, maybe he really was just trying to find Amy.

But then, instead of actually being helpful, Jay makes it extremely clear that he's a lot more interested in stalking Alex than he is in finding Amy. Alex asked for help, and instead there's a bunch of masked dudes on Jay's heels that keep attacking him, Jay is breaking into his house, stealing his things, leading the Operator right to him all over again, keeps trying to get other people (namely: Jessica -- if Alex is being honest when he says that his call reassuring her that Amy had been found was an effort to make Sure she stayed away from everything that was happening) involved; and instead of anything getting better, instead of anyone finding Amy, things are just getting worse all over again.

It's not until after the incident at the tunnel that things seem to start rapidly devolving. Rather than a calculated attempt to finally follow through with his need to curb the spread of contamination, this is very clearly an outburst of rage and terror. Alex's "I told you not to follow me" line in conjunction with Jay speculating that Alex didn't know who that guy was, to me, pretty firmly seems to speak to Alex having mistaken that stranger for Jay. From his point of view, Alex knows that Jay and totheark know where he live, have broken in before, he suspects that Jay stole a key to make it easier to get into his house, and he's been followed on the daily for months -- Alex is sitting at the tunnel because he doesn't know where else he can go without being constantly surveilled, hunted, and assaulted. And instead of getting a moment by himself to breathe, Jay followed him out there all over again (it feels like Alex looks directly at the camera in Jay's footage of him from this day; he knew for a fact that Jay was there), and then to make matters worse now 'Jay' won't even keep his distance anymore.

So Alex lashes out. And it's not until afterwards that he looks down and finally recognizes that this wasn't Jay -- it was someone completely innocent. Things have finally reached the low point he was at in college all over again; maybe even worse this time. If Alex doesn't remember attacking anyone in college, but he was at least partially conscious of it this time, then things have reached an entirely new rock bottom, they've reached an absolute point of no return.

He has no idea what happened to Amy, and he's spent months trying to find her with no hint of where she could be; he doesn't know where Jay actually is or what additional trouble he could be causing at this point; he does know that now innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire (in regards to the stranger in the tunnel, and also Jessica now that Jay has her phone number, and the untold number of people Jay got involved when he started posting videos to the Marble Hornets channel); things are spiraling out of control and there's no one left to ask for help. The situation isn't getting better, it's getting worse; things aren't getting easier to handle, they're just getting more out of hand; the negative impact is spreading and who knows how much further it can still go?

So, Alex decides to go scorched earth. He disfigures the body with the rock either to hide evidence or to make sure the guy would actually stay dead and not just get back up to start his own cycle of contamination in a few years. He tries to give Jay one last chance to back off, and Jay instead admits he's been talking to Jessica, acts obstinate and lies about not having Alex's spare key, and then breaks into Alex's house a second time (minimum). If Alex doesn't stop him now, who will? Alex met with Jay planning to kill the others, and then himself, so he could put a stop to this once and for all and keep things from getting any worse than they already were.

Maybe it makes a lot more sense if, rather than being a strangely incomprehensible detour on what should have been a straight path, the events of Season Two were the breaking point that put Alex on that path to begin with.

#N posts stuff #idk!!! I've been thinking a lot lately about the tendency to take Characters at Face Value; when they tell us things we tend to #automatically believe them despite what evidence we might have to the contrary. & like when it comes to deciphering what #went down during the college film project it's mostly totheark that posits that Alex was Definitely Lying and Definitely Acting on Purpose #(even Jay is largely ambivalent - wondering which way it leans and basically saying it could go either way)#but. do we KNOW that they know that? Do we Know that they're Right when they claim that? Or are they just Assuming based off #of their own rage and animosity towards Alex due to what happened? Do we Know for Sure that Alex Was Lying in s1?#i don't know if we do!! And so without Knowing that for sure; how can we speak to Alex's motivations in season one OR season two?#now TO BE CLEAR: I am not saying this in an attempt to claim that Alex is somehow completely innocent of all guilt and that like.#Jay is the 'Real Antagonist' of the series - not at all my intention. this is just More of my usual 'look. Everyone in this series is #all kinds of Morally Grey; no recurring character in this series is free of guilt they ALL have unique fatal flaws & trends towards #antagonism that makes things worse and dooms them all' shtick - a la 'everyone Thinks they're doing the Right Thing but No One Is'#BUT i Am wondering if this Does help to like. clear up some of the ambiguity/uncertainty of Season Two - and even Season One - and #lets the series as a whole read a little bit clearer? idk i know that Jay does Claim to think that Alex was bullshitting him #the whole time & was Actually planning on tying up loose ends the whole time but AGAIN it doesn't make Sense he'd wait so long #idk - Am i making sense? does any of this track? i'm trying to figure it out; i am open to comments on the subject to help #i haven't rewatched season 3 yet today and so maybe there's stuff in there that contradicts this whole theory lmao but i'm taking a break #and just posting this anyway; we'll see what happens lol #marble hornets #mh lb

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repurposedmeatlocker · 2 months ago

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At some point I am going to actually have to watch Idiocracy. I mean, I know I don't HAVE to, but I enjoy subjecting myself to such film experiences for the sake of having a better reason to analytically criticize something.

#also I am on this mike judge kick rn so why not #I can say this with the little bit I do know about that film and what it is...attempting to say #I think the aspects of how it falls flat will be the most interesting to see #it is one of those favorite movies for misanthropes and atheists and libertarians aka the most grating people to converse with #I REALLY kind of just wanted to point out that mike judge kind of already explored this topic of satirizing human stupidity #with beavis and butthead #but I think his approach with them is done a bit more successfully #like their inception is clearly making fun of aspects of a particular subset of cable-poisoned youth living in circumstances that foster it #but (I at least idk) still find them like able #and aside from them a LOT of the satire also points to the tone-deafness of otherwise educated individuals #it is actually kind of nuanced how the incompetence of the educated are highlighted #anyway I am just ranting rn and it is late #any of my moots seen idocracy? have any insights (hate) to share about it?#squack

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rainc0at · 8 months ago

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I LOVE THIS FUCKIJG FILM SO MUCH EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS PERFECT

#the casting is so good its oerfect they all do such good jobs iCAAAANNTT #roman and zsasz do SO WELL they creep me OUT its so GOOOOODODODO #“fuck fsmily! all due respect but fuck that!!!” all his. tantrums? how else would i word thst idk so. and like from the little bits we see #we learn so much about them. like idk shit avout them sorrt im a poser. but FUCKKXKCK its just so good #obviously margot robbie does incredibly. and cassandras actress! i know people have said they sorta dilute her character down which IS sad #esp bc i dont know anything about her either. but fuck #and the way it depicts gotham!!!!!!!!!! ive talked about this alot before and god its always sssoooooo #ITS JUST ALL SO GOOD. the humor THE WARDROBE. once again the causal lgbt rep. all the sexism stuff.#its just perfect its genuinely perfect #AGRGRHFHSJ I LOVE THIS FILM.#birds of prey #AND JUST THE WAY EVERYONE TALKS AND THE DELIVERY OF EVERYTHING. I DONT KNOW ITS JUST ALL. PERFECT.#also another mention to roman and zsasz. they do it SO. WELL. the changes in zsaszs voice AND JUST HIS GENERAL ATTITUDE. sionis and how wel #his actor does the quick switches. and again the delivery of ALL his lines. also special mention to his little spin at his first scene.#ALSO HIS AND ZSASZS LAUGHS ohmyod #and montoya does it all so well and inlove her voice and same with canary and i cant say much on them because its ALL so good that i cant #pinpoint it??????#ALSO THE HAIR TIE SCENE 💘💘💘💘💘#also forever thinking of roman and his thing with how people pronounce words. actually im sorta just always thinking about him and zsasz #zsaszmask hoffstrahm and now hannigram all live in my head. and another ship i wont say incase noah sees this. OH AND SUKEVE.#another mention to the soundtrack. oh. my. god.#another mention to how it depicts gotham. like you just see people living. in the daytime. hanging out living rhwir lives. and you see smal #businesses and a supermarket and a club and the graffiti and just somuch of the film being. in. the daytime. AND THE SKATING DERBY!#GOD i love this film so so so much can you tell #also why is all the content of my posts only ever in the tags. like okaaayy sure.#DINAHS SIDE EYE AT ROMAN AND ZSASZ WHEN THEYRE BEING EXTRA GAY I CANT DO THIS #am i gonna go and look at loads of zsaszmask content now. yes. dont judge.#also anti-big establishments moment (her robbing the store) and her promising to get sal the 75 cents. support small businesses #also bruce wayne mention theyrr always so funny #rain rambles

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gor3sigil · 7 months ago

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Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

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dilf-docs · 2 months ago

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All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I missed you so much" you pout.

"Missed how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

"I missed you too" he whispers out, getting tired.

He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

#dilfistwrites #gladiator II #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #marcus acacius #joseph quinn #connie nielsen #may calamawy #paul mescal #i love him #so down bad for my latino man #pls excuse the filth<3

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