#for some reason i had never watched the behind the scenes from the karaoke block of last year festa

[creativeashproductions]

Faded Memories // Julie Molina

Summary: After the death of her mother more than music is dropped from Julie’s life. Julie breaks up with her best friend turned then girlfriend Ramona. When Ramona gets closure it causes Julie remembers that Ramona was more than a girlfriend. She was her best friend too.

Warning: Swearing, talk of death, break-up, angst (ain’t new here), Julie and Ramona are ex-girlfriends and no happy ending (oops)

Characters: ex!Julie Molina x ex!Ramona Monet (just worked better with an OC even when it will get less traction, sorry)

Words: 2.9k

A/N: So in my Charlie Gillespie imagine A Walk Down The Aisle the reader played a character Ramona Monet on the show. @leave-reality-behind wanted a fic off the tiny scene I wrote. So here you go.

Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will through commenting on the fics.

Masterlist

Ramona Monet’s deep burgundy lips manoeuvred into an ‘o’ as she released a deep breath of air sending her fringe flying. The last place she wanted to be was the spirit rally, but her Pops had banned for from the hidden gem in the older parts of LA. Ramona’s love of old movies stemmed from the many times her father had dropped her off at the movie theatre on his way to work. Being banned and her best friend performing at the rally is the only reason she would show her face.

Ramona had chosen a red tartan shirt with her fishnets that would more than likely land her in Principle Lessa’s office. As usual, she would fight ‘it broke dress code’ earing a little less respect from the adult but admiration for the quick retorts. Ramona made her way to the gym as the first beat of Carrie’s song played, her black ankle boots finding the way to the bleachers.

“Hey, Monet,” Nick spoke, leaning forward from his concealed position in the nest of jocks. The kind blonde had always been lovely to his girlfriend’s best friend.

“Nick.” Ramona nodded looking back as Carrie burst into the fast pace choreography that went with the pop song.

Dirty Candi’s music was not what Ramona listened to, but she couldn’t fault that it was a catchy song that would be in everyone’s head for days. From a distance, Carrie’s brown eyes finding Ramona wearing her self-made merch.

Ramona’s shirt sported the letters of Dirty Candi in the iconic colours Carrie had stressed over in the beginning. The black shirt was bleached in a tie-dye fashion, but it made Carrie’s heart flutter at the supportive friend she had.

“Whoo!” Ramona called over the loud background noise as Carrie gracefully dropped to perform the floor choreo. The words referencing to the band Queen made the teen girl knowing it was Carrie’s way of acknowledging the car karaoke.

Ramona’s attention was brought to the side where two girls were watching the performance. Flynn and Julie had been in the back of Ramona’s mind since the accident happened; Ramona’s heart dropped at the girl. Julie and Ramona had a good history tainted by tragic loss and teenage angst.

Ramona and Julie had been childhood best friends being a few houses from each other and that history was bittersweet. The two girls had nervously shared their first kisses in the now dilapidated treehouse in the Monet’s backyard. A relationship bloomed like a flower in the morning sun before the sun was concealed behind a storm cloud. Julie’s mom died, and Julie asked for a break.

Now everyone knows that a break is really a breakup and the naïve girlfriends had believed that. Then as Julie struggled with music, she struck out to the closest person, her girlfriend and Ramona found herself dumped. The dumping shattered Ramona’s heart, and the friend group divided. Flynn chose Julie and Carrie, disgusted by the cruel words, chose Ramona in a true Carrie fashion; Carrie and Ramona had initially only interacted together for their mutual friend/girlfriend. Then Ramona’s heart was obliterated when days later, she caught Julie staring at Nick with the same look Ramona used to get.

Ramona’s head turned to disregard the girl that had run out of music class the previous day during her performance. Rumours circulated by the end of the day that Julie Molina had been officially kicked out of the program; Ramona was both sad and relieved. Julie’s own head turned to catch the profile of her ex-girlfriend.

“Go Bobcats!” Carrie Wilson chimed strutting off to the girls change room for the dramatic exit. Needing a break from Julie, the Monet girl followed Dirty Candi into the change room.

“Nailed it,” Ramona spoke, revealing white teeth behind her dark lipstick gaining the pink-haired girl’s attention. Carrie’s face beamed at the compliment.

Ramona and Carrie Wilson couldn’t be farther in comparison with their different tastes and appearance. Carrie was all pink and glittery while Ramona was grunge and angst. Ramona was the one to push Carrie into making a YouTube channel, even promoting the group to Ramona’s followers without prompting.

“Oh! Thank you!” Carrie tugged her best friend into her arms, choking her taller friend with the tight embrace.

“So, I overheard Julie and Flynn when I walked by the music room. Julie’s going to perform for Mrs Harrison.” Ramona warned her best friend concerned as Carrie’s complexation changed to make the gaudy pink wig, “OH!”

Carrie’s French manicure gouged Ramona’s bare arm as she was tugged after the teenager back into the gym. A gasp fell from both their lips as Kayla, the purple dancer for Dirty Candi appeared. The three students rushed the stage where three guys popped out of nowhere on the stage. 

“What the hell?” Ramona demanded watching her ex-girlfriend break out of her music shell, “Wow.”

“What do you mean ‘wow’ Ro?” Carrie asked in exasperation as her best friend stared at the stage, enjoying the music being played. Carrie scoffed only to soften when she saw the expression on Ramona, “Ro, she doesn’t deserve you. She never did.”

The sad smile appeared on Ramona’s face as her eyes met the bass player’s wink. Ramona flushed at the attention taken aback from the confidence. For a split-second, Ramona considered wiggling her way into the band to get back at Julie. 

But while Ramona dressed like a confident badass, it was inside that she felt alone and hurt that Julie was doing so well without her. That sent rage flooding Carrie’s body so when Kayla fawned over the band Carrie glared at her. Kayla dropped her head at the glare.

“I’m gonna go,” Ramona spoke walking away from the stage and her ex who apparently, she still had feelings for. God help Ramona. Why was it when Ramona was shaking the feeling that Julie had to come back with a bang?

Ramona was striding out of the gym as the band disappeared, leaving the Molina girl alone to explain. Ramona leaned against the bathroom sink uncaring of the germs in carried staring at the teen in the mirror. The bubbling sadness faded down, remembering the changes that had happened, she was better without Julie.

Ramona walked back into the hall, catching the tail end of Julie’s conversation with absolutely no one near her. Ramona’s mossy green eyes rolled as she walked by the younger girl the bubble of anger reaching the surface. The sheepish smile on Julie’s face as a concerned custodian pushed his cart by.

“Oh, so does this girl.” Reggie spoke, watching as a rocker chick made a wide berth around his only remaining alive friend, “Ooh, she’s pretty.”

Julie watched the older girl walk by keeping her gaze ahead, “Hey Mona.”

Ramona cast a weird look at the other girl with a roll of her eyes, “Good on you for performing. Surprised someone other than Flynn survived Bitch Bomb 2019.”

Ramona turned around the corner of lockers leaving the Puerto Rican’s shoulders to deflate at the remind of Flynn running off. Sunset Curve watched the interaction with raised brows flicking between the very different girls.

“What was that about?” Alex wondered, viewing the sad expression of the gifted singer’s face. The utter sadness reminding him of when he broke up with his first boyfriend in ’93 and the lingering feeling.

“That was Ramona.” Julie sighed, picking at the braided bracelet on her wrist that had matched the one you used to wear. 

Being fourteen without jobs and little allowance gifts had been mostly thrifted or homemade so for the six month anniversary they had braided bracelets. They had never come off their wrists until the breakup; Ramona had cut it off in a puddle of tears. Julie couldn’t bring herself to remove hers.

“When did Julie get smart enough to how about holograms?” Carrie scoffed as Ramona joined her at the lab table. The performance lingering like a bad taste of the girl’s tongue, “I worked weeks on that song! It was so hard getting Katy’s choreographer to help.”

“Carrie she-“

“She is so stupid! We’ve all lost someone, and we didn’t pull a Bitch Bomb 2019.” Carrie exclaimed referring to the first months of Julie’s grief-led wrath. 

Carrie was both right and wrong in that sense because everyone grieved differently, Carrie would do retail shopping. Ramona’s way of dealing was locking herself in a room with a piano and lugging up water balloons to a roof; very Peyton Sawyer of her. Julie never reached out to apologize for her actions, but Ramona blocked her on everything.

“Car focus on the lab. You still have that bomb-ass song you’re working on.” Ramona sympathized with the teen. Carrie nodded her head, deciding to not focus on some girl with a fluke of a performance; Julie almost puked on the piano a few days ago, so her surprise band was probably a one-time thing.

“Don’t you have anything better than-“

“Carrie do you hear something?” Ramona pursed her lips, scanning the classroom with a feigned look of confusion. Carrie’s lips twitched at her best friend’s antics, “I swore I heard the voice of irrelevance.”

“Ooh and I swore I smelt gutter water perfume too.” Carrie flicked her hair over her shoulder, smirking at Flynn’s look of anger, “Mr. Taylor! Flynn threatened to burn me!”

Mr Taylor turned his attention from Kayla to Flynn’s expression of disbelief and the glare directed at the table ahead. Putting on a look of shock, Ramona appeared genuinely flabbergasted to the chemistry teacher.

“Flynn, that’s detention.” Mr Taylor spoke, turning back to Kayla.

“You bit-“Flynn was cut off by the bell ringing. Ramona and Carrie had already left the confident girl in the room. Flynn was fuming with both Julie’s lying and the unfair detention because of two popular vindictive girls. 

One would expect Ramona Monet, as a member of the music program, to play guitar or drums. However, Ramona was a classically trained pianist with an affinity with stringed instruments as well. The Monet family had a footing in the music world with her mother taught in the same way, and her father a composer.

“Oh! Sorry.” Ramona’s intense focus on the music enchanting the room was pulled as the awkward form stood in the entrance.

“Seriously, Molina?” Ramona winced as her hands fell on the keys creating an ear gouging shriek. Her green eyes shining brighter with the bare face she had chosen with little motivation for makeup, “I’ve been using this room every day at the same time since freshman year. You should know that. Guess I really wasn’t even an afterthought.”

Ramona’s hand shoved soft top binder of her notes in her black bag covered in many pins and embroidered patches. Her bright pink nail polish surprising Julie but her eyes drowned in the form-fitting ripped black jeans with the wine red cable knit sweater. Cheeks flushing Julie stuttered.

“S-sorry. I just-“

“Whatever.” Ramona shoved passed her ex-girlfriend, “Why do you even wear that?”

Julie glanced at the meaningful bracelet that Ramona intensely stared at with the dark and light strings braided. Julie’s eyes fell to see Ramona no longer wore braided bracelets but a bracelet with a moon charm.

“It means a lot.”

“Just not the person.” Ramona darkly chuckled, “Kinda childish?”

Julie shuffled uncomfortably on her feet picking at her cuticle at the insult her antagonist ex threw at her. Three ghosts glared at the Monet girl pissed at the unfair treatment she was giving Julie.

“Hey! What the hell is your problem?” Luke snapped, stepping forward even as Alex made his input of it being unnecessary; they were dead. To Alex shock, the disgruntled girl shifted her gaze from Julie to the trio.

“My problem is none of your damn business Uncle Jesse.” Ramona spat earning raised brows at her reference.

 “Did she die in the ’90s too?” Reggie stage whispered to his best friend staring the pretty brunette down. Ramona’s eyes rolled.

“Should have known. The only people Julie didn’t scare off would be the dead.” Ramona snarked twisting on her heel to storm off into the distance.

“I’m sorry!” Julie yelled, bringing the brunette to a dead stop with her foot not planted on the floor yet as the apology finally came.

All Ramona had ever wanted was Julie to apologize for her shitty decision to dump Ramona cruelly. Using bitter words on her personal life to drive the wedge but the final nail in the coffin was the slammed door in Ramona’s face.

“For what?” Ramona seethed, “For asking for space and screaming when I gave it? Dumping me and acting like I was the black plague? How about when you forgot about my audition? Burning the flowers, I sent for the funeral? Or making breaking off communication and Flynn completely ignoring me?”

“Oh damn.” Luke murmured, stepping back to the drummer and bassist floored at the confrontation. His heart dropped, finally understanding why Julie avoided all topics relating to Ramona.

“I was wrong.” Julie admitted, “I pushed you away. I got mad when you gave me what I wanted. I should have talked to you and not broke up with you that way I did.”

“She burnt funeral flowers. “Alex whispered to Reggie, surprised at the out of character action from his new friend.

“I chose you over my audition. I chose to offer support for my best friend, not just my then-girlfriend, on one of her worst days. I get to the funeral, and you refused to let me say goodbye to the woman that practically raised me as well.” Ramona calmed down, staring at the younger girl breaking apart in front of her.

It felt like a weight dropped off Ramona’s shoulders or the chains of heartbreak and confusion unlocked with the key of closure. The clouds disappeared, letting the sun help the flowers bloom after a year of rain. A genuine smile spread on the girls face as Julie’s dropped at the beautiful sight.

“I hope you well Birdie.” Julie’s heart fluttered at the pet name Ramona had coined for the teenager. It shortened from songbird to birdie, and Julie hadn’t heard in what felt like years, “I gotta go. It’s filming day.”

Julie went pushed into a memory.

Summer 2018

The camera was entirely set on Ramona in the treehouse that her Pop had built when she was five years old. Fourteen-year-old Ramona was relaxing as she fixed her white off-shoulder crop top to be straight once more. The cover of the song accompanied by her acoustic guitar was pretty to the years of the short girl at the entrance.

“I still think it’s cheesy to call it Music Monday.” Ramona told the camera with a shy smile after strumming the last note. Her eyes meeting the girl that tackled her in a hug, “Birdie!”

“Birdie?” Julie questioned leaning back from her kissing attacks on every inch of her dirty-blonde girlfriend.

“Songbird is a bit of a mouthful.” Ramona blushed hiding in Julie’s neck unaware of the camera still rolling. The blush deepened at the lingering kiss to Ramona’s hairline.

“I love it.” Julie softly spoke, leaning back to gaze into Ramona’s green eyes swimming in the soft feeling.

Julie Molina and Ramona Monet had been the classic best friends with hidden crushes that shattered one afternoon. Ramona was nervous about a date she had the next day, and she had never kissed anyone. Julie, awed by her best friend, admitted she’d never kissed anyone and so in a cliché, the girls decided to share their first kiss. Feelings were revealed, and the two started to date.

“So, what brings you here.” Ramona asked, stopping the camera from recording as her girlfriend shifted, “What’s up?”

“If you’re ready I’d like to have you over for dinner.” Julie shyly asked, avoiding Ramona’s gaze.

“That’s not new Birdie.” Ramona chuckled helping the shorter girl to her feet fingers caressing the bracelet that was a twin to her own. Julie’s eyes flicked down to the light pink shorts that matched the butterfly click in Ro’s hair.

“Not as my best friend. As my girlfriend.” Julie murmured fearing the response.

“Should I call your parents Mr and Mrs.” Ramona wondered, kissing Julie’s cheek as the other girl relaxed at the statement. Julie feared Ramona wasn’t ready or didn’t want to be at that stage in the relationship, “If you are ready, then so am I.”

“You’re the best thing to happen to me.” Julie beamed, “Oh! I wanna show you the song Mom, and I made!”

Julie tugged her pretty girlfriend to the front of the house to lead her to the Molina’s garage they renovated into a music studio. The girls’ laughter floating in the summer breeze, the relationship blooming under the sun as it developed further. Naïvely the two young teens believed nothing could rip them apart, if only they knew.

“So, I’m guessing she’s off-limits?” Reggie offered as he bounced on his heels, attempting to lighten the mood. The glare from Julie was enough to answer that question.

“Reg. Firstly, don’t date your friend’s ex. Secondly, you’re dead.” Alex deadpanned at his best friend to turn to Julie, “Are you okay?”

 “No.” Julie honestly spoke, “I guess I never realized that losing my girlfriend also meant I would lose my best friend.”

On the other side of the school, Ramona Monet could finally smile as the memories with Julie regained the colour grief had erased. Ramona Monet was better than fine, she was happy.

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#julie molina imagines #julie molina x reader #julie molina x oc #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms #ex!julie molina x ex!girlfriend #angst #julie molina #jatp fanfic #caitsy and ash productions

[tirsden]

I feel like I need to say something about this, and ironically I already said what I want to say in Youtube comments, so the following has been drawn heavily from said comments.

At the timestamps of 19:26 and 19:35 of the Cynical Reviews video are two scenes that stand out from the movie, and I remember those textures from the trailer too. If you want to trigger an autistic person on any level of the spectrum, show them those scenes or even a still from the scene. I pulled up Notepad at that point to pre-write a comment and about one-third of the paused video was showing behind Notepad. Even just that much in my peripheral vision was literally making me nauseous as I worked on the comment. The busy, repeating pattern on the wall and costumes is a fucking nightmare.

Before I go any further, I'll mention where I am on the spectrum. I'm high-functioning autistic, the label formerly known as Asperger's Syndrome but I'm guessing they're trying to get rid of that label because apparently Dr. Asperger was cushy with Nazis. Oops. And if that word seems a little too flippant, understand that my seeing the relevant information on Wikipedia was devastating. I've been getting fed up lately seeing that "Aspergers is no longer a diagnosis" because I went 28 years without knowing what was different about me and why the world didn't make sense. I was about to leave a comment on another video, something along the lines of, "You can't take my diagnosis away from me, I have a label and it's mine. Not only is doing so disingenuous to me and people like me, it's disingenuous to Dr. Asperger." Before I hit submit I realized I should go google him before I said something I might regret... and staring at his wiki page, if I had a proper desk close enough to use, I would have been head-desking so hard. I really don't know how to properly put in words how I feel about the whole situation now... though the phrase "this is why we can't have nice things" comes to mind.

Back on the Sia topic and review, after I'd finished composing that bit of comment and watched a few more minutes of the review, I was feeling more and more like I'd been hit by motion sickness. Some of the footage after the timestamps probably didn't help, but my gods... "you haven't even watched my film" = "I DIDN'T EVEN SHOW IT TO ANYONE ON THE SPECTRUM OR THEY WOULD HAVE BARFED." Maybe I'm a little more sensitive than some in the motion sickness / visual trigger department, but come on. That is some horribly tone-deaf cinematography, and that's not even getting into the portrayal of the autistic character.

One of the first things I thought about Maddie's interpretation of autism, is that it's closer to something like Down Syndrome, but I had a Down Syndrome aunt and the comparison still makes me want to throw up a little. Closer does not mean accurate... but, yeah. That was my observation. Cynical's mention of Maddie drawing character ideas from a DiCaprio character with some other type of developmental disorder explains so much now. And I don't blame Maddie for what she was involved in, because it's clear she has an abuser controlling her life. There really isn't any flowery way to say that. It is what it is.

Sigh. What the hell do I even do with this? I love(d) Sia's music, and her episode of Carpool Karaoke was probably one of the most fun things I'd ever watched on Youtube. My favorite Pandora station is based off her song Chandelier, a station I've affectionately referred to as "Dying Cat Radio" due to the sound style of a lot of songs that play on it. Now... I think I'm going to have to delete the station and try to rebuild it via Aurora and similar artists. I do not do well with associations, and I was already on the fence after watching the Music trailer recently. After this review? It's over. And it's another nail in the coffin of "having real people as heroes," especially celebrity figures. Other nails for me have been Mel Gibson, Bruce Willis, and Vin Diesel... and I wonder at what point these people either became so disconnected from reality they lost their "souls," or if they were always like that and we just couldn't see it yet.

As for the associations thing and a big reason why I can’t really separate artist from art, I've only ever seen it addressed once by someone else, in the book Red Dragon by Thomas Harris. In the book, the author briefly describes his character Will Graham as such:

“Graham had a lot of trouble with taste. Often his thoughts were not tasty. There were no effective partitions in his mind. What he saw and learned touched everything else he knew. Some of the combinations were hard to live with. But he could not anticipate them, could not block and repress. His learned values of decency and propriety tagged along, shocked at his associations, appalled at his dreams; sorry that in the bone arena of his skull there were no forts for what he loved. His associations came at the speed of light. His value judgments were at the pace of a responsive reading. They could never keep up and direct his thinking. He viewed his own mentality as grotesque but useful, like a chair made of antlers. There was nothing he could do about it.”

And... I've run out of mental steam, so [insert conclusion here] because I've said what I want to say. The formal writing rules in me are cringing with a closing like that, but it can join everything else cringing over the disaster that is Music. Time to damage-control the migraine that's asking me why I'm staring at a big white thing with little black letters, and why I sat through that review when I knew the footage was not good for me, even just the clips used. "Oof" is right, Cynical Doggo... "oof" is right.

#tirsdenoriginals #sia #music #sia's music movie #autism #autistic #cynical reviews

[anoddkpopfan]

Not His Girl Part 1

Not Your First Time Being Stood Up By a Friend

Pairing: Writer!Namjoon x Baker!Reader

This Chapter Consists of: A lil bit of fluff, and angst if you SQUINT.

Synopsis: When you and Namjoon meet the two of you click right away! You can’t help but begin to harbor feelings for him overtime. Only problem is, he just so happens to be dating your best friend.

Word count: 1.2k

“This is it! Thank you!” You sing out before poking your head out of the small black car. You were sure Mina would be able to drive the two of you around for today. You lugged a heavy bag over your shoulders while stepping out of the uber. Honestly, you struggled getting to Mina’s house. You’d reach the destination only to find that you’d have to climb a semi large street-hill to even reach your best friend’s house. Your baggage wasn’t a big help either.

Your bag happened to be filled with all sorts of things, from snacks to a mini karaoke set up. You were so ready for today. It’s finally time. Finally time for you to see your best friend again after months of her being MIA from your life because of her busy schedule. You take deep breaths in and out as you finally reach the top of the odd street. You reach Mina’s house and the only thing separating you is the black gate protecting it.

You checked your phone once again for any response to your messages from yesterday. You’d wanted to remind her again today, but were stopped by the thought of being overbearing. After a minute or two you buzz the button on the fence, but no answer. You even gave up your pride and rang Mina’s phone 3 times, but again, no response. Things aren’t looking up, but of course you don’t blame Mina for this. She’s probably back at the studio, rushing to meet up with you.

“Hey.” You were surprised at the sudden deep voice that projected from behind you. You turn around and make eye contact with a handsome stranger, who looks a bit.. familiar? He wore casual clothing, a white t-shirt that clung to his body, jeans, and a black hoodie. His brown waves covering his forehead, hiding his gaze until you looked directly into his eyes.

“What? Hi. Who are you?” You immediately ask the familiar looking man with brown/blonde locks. And he scoffs at what seems to be your attempt of acting innocent.

“Now is not the time for introductions, I really think you should get going.” Namjoon picked up your bag which resulted in you snatching it back protectively. Of course, the bag isn’t very light, and it resulted in you stumbling and the man placing his hand on the small of your back to catch your fall. The two of you went silent for a second before quickly moving away from each other.

Who the hell does this guy think he is? You hesitate for a second before letting him know that, “I’m here to visit a friend, oh, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch my things.” You retort and before you know it he’s laughing in your face, your eyebrows scrunch up in confusion.

“Listen, I know you must be a huge fan of Mina-“ before he can continue you cut him off with your own words.

“Fan?”

“Fan.”

“Of Mina’s?”

“Yes, I know her personally, and last time I checked she doesn’t welcome fans for open visits.” Namjoon didn’t like the idea of fan’s knowing his girlfriend’s personal information.

“I’m not her fan alright? I’m her best friend!” You finally hear yourself saying, and your words only leave Namjoon confused. Namjoon stays silent and you take that as a reason to explain yourself some more.

“I’m not big on the whole social scene so the public doesn’t know about me, but I promise you we were supposed to meet today.” You quickly defend yourself, but you soon notice the bigger elephant in the conversation, “Wait, why am I telling you all of this? I don’t even know who you are!”

“No no, this can’t be right. I’m Mina’s boyfriend, Namjoon. And we were supposed to meet here today at this time. There’s no way she would have agreed to meet you now!” Namjoon says. And almost like a movie the two of you came to the same conclusion.

Mina would’ve definitely made a mistake like this.

Especially recently she has a knack for ruining plans or forgetting about them, and you couldn’t believe it was happening after the long talk the two of you had about her changing this habit for the better. You couldn’t help but feel hurt, you spent all this time planning and all she had to do was show up. It’s difficult. Constantly trying to change yourself to keep Mina wanting to spend time with you.

“I guess.. I guess she must’ve had a mix up.” You now know where you recognized the man from. There were several pictures of them on Mina’s Instagram, of course they’d gotten lost in the posts including other models and influencers, but they were still there, nonetheless.

“it’s okay, I’ll stay and make sure that she gets back okay.. I don’t think she’d miss seeing either of us.” Namjoon suggests and you shook your head. You have to stay, and you need to see her. It’s been way too long, and plus:

“I took an uber here so… I should also just stay because she’s my ride home.” Suddenly you felt water running down your cheek and Namjoon looked to you with wide eyes, “Hey, are you crying?” He mumbles out, and you shake your head. The two of you look up and watch as the rain slowly begins to poor down. You feel water landing on you, and you soon regret not bring a jacket.

Namjoon sprung into action, pulling off his black jacket and moving closer to you to block the rain. You continued to feel rain hit your arm. “Hang on to me, Doll. I’ll take you to my car for now.” Your hands wrapped around his waist and you hung on, watching as the rain poured down harder.

Before you knew it you were being taken to his car, where he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat, and he rushed around so he could take the driver’s seat. Silence overtook the two of you again. And to break the atmosphere Namjoon turned up the radio. The first song playing was ending as soon as it was on. Next a good song played, one that you’ve been spending the past two weeks dancing in your bedroom to. You began tapping your foot. And you look over at Namjoon to see him mouthing the words and nodding his head. The two of you make eye contact and start to slowly but surely sing the song together.

Before you knew it the two of you were doing the choreography in the car and shouting out the lyrics as well. Never in a million years had you thought such a thing only seen in dramas and musicals could happen. Once the song was over the two of you were nearly out of breath.

“You like this group? I can’t believe it!” Namjoon sounded deeply surprised, and you only nodded your head eagerly.

“I love them! None of my friends think the same though, they don’t even give these guys a chance. Their music is incredible!” You enthuse and he nods.

“Have you heard the leader’s cover of that one English song? It blows my mind.” Your eyes widen and you shake your head.

“What? Sounds like a fake fan to me, give me your number and I’ll send you the video right now!” Namjoon let’s out excitingly.

And just like that, Kim Namjoon was brought into your life.

Masterlist

#bts #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts texts #bts scenarios

[nat-roman0ff]

ii. the day after

a series of blurbs // a certain time and place

ii. the day after

the one where the feelings began.

 wc: 3,833

warnings: swearing, poorly written smut, anxiety issues.

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

The night comes back in waves -

It started at the bar, same as it always did. Both had forgotten what celebrational event brought them there. All he knew is when he finally saw her walk in that night, her eyes scrunched up as she let out a laugh at whatever her friend was saying, he knew he had made the right decision in coming out that night.

 It had been Brian’s convincing, of course, that got Shawn out. He’ been holed up in his condo for the last week and a half suffering a terrible case of writers block with a twist of seasonal depression. It was colder than normal this December and he supposed maybe that’s what had to do with the lingering black cloud above his head recently.

Shawn was just, to put it frankly, tired. He wanted to come home and relax, but between catching up with friends and family and parties it’s like he’s forgotten how to breathe, how to stop and enjoy a moment. It’s a constant state of go go go no matter what. No matter if he’s singing in a sold out arena, or watching a hockey game in his parent’s living room. There’s nothing left in his lungs to suck up and he feels his chest tightening the more he thinks about it. He tries desperately to focus on the conversation he’s not paying attention to in hopes it’ll focus him.

 It doesn’t, and he thinks maybe this is just the way he’s always going to be; tired, breathless and running on empty.

 That was, until he saw her walk in the door.

 What happens next in the night comes back to him in a series of drunken flashbacks that have nothing much to do with alcohol, and everything to do with that goddamn girl.

 One: She sings karaoke with him. Truthfully, she’s awful and somewhere halfway through a horrifying rendition of Mr. Brightside he’s pretty sure he finds the moment he started to freefall into her.

Two: Some absolute asshat harasses her at the bar, and proceeds to grab her ass when she tries to leave. Shawn doesn’t even have a second to step in before her fist is colliding with his left cheek bone. Killer right hook, love, he thinks.

 Three: Her cheeks are the most beautiful color pink he thinks he’s ever seen. He’d like to personally thank gin and tonic for creating such a masterpiece.

 Four: They leave alone, together. Somewhere between sober and tipsy. He memorizes the way her body feels pressed into his to stay warm in the cold of Toronto.

 Five: She’s under him, naked, and then he forgets how to breathe again.

 It’s barely 6am when Shawn’s eyes flutter open. She’s still asleep, her back facing him. The white sheet is barely covering her backside, leaving her entire back exposed to him. He contemplates drawing patterns across the freckles on her skin but he retracts his hand just before he makes contact.

 Shawn closes his eyes and replays what happened in this bed; he remembers the flush of pink in her cheeks just before she comes and he can feel himself getting hard over it. They weren’t drunk, at least he didn’t think so. There’s no way. They’d switched to club soda hours before they left and even stopped for a slice of pizza on the way back to his condo.

 She’ll regret it, he thinks. She didn’t seem like the type of girl that went home with random dudes every weekend. But then again, is there really a face for that? Or maybe she is. And then he’s filled with the warmth of guilt that he’d judged her for even half a second.

 She hums then groans, rolling onto her back and looking towards him. Shawn’s eye spring open, her hand is half covering her face and he can see a pert nipple sticking through the sheets.

 “What time is it?” She asks with a sigh.

 “A little after six.”

 He wants to touch her so bad but he won’t. Not until he knows what this is. Not that it needs a label or a name. There’s so much uncertainty, or maybe none at all. Maybe this is exactly what it is. Shawn was never really one to take much at face value; he always searched for the deeper meaning. The cause, the source, the conditioning, the reasons and choices he’s made that brings him to this exact string of moments. His mum always told him that’s the artist in him, his dad always told him it was the neuroticism in him.

 She shoves her face in the pillow, and he pretends not to notice the flash of her breasts as she flips over, “too early,” she groans, “it’s a Sunday.”

 “Actually, it’s Saturday.”

 She turns her head towards him, “fuck, really?”

 Shawn lets out a soft laugh, “yeah, really. Why, do you have somewhere to be?”

 “No,” she sighs and rolls over away from him again, stretching and arching her back out enough to make Shawn shift under the covers, “I never have anywhere to be.”

 This time he decides to touch her. It’s light, a swipe of her shoulder with the back of his finger. She doesn’t move, and he watches the skin beneath his finger prickle under his touch.

 “Is this okay?” He asks.

 She hums, “feels nice, you have very nimble fingers,” she blushes at the memory of where those fingers were last night and the places they explored.

 “Do you want to spend the day together?” He asks, adding another finger to his quest to find more skin to touch.

 He rubs a stripe down her spine and she shakes with a chill, “sorry,” he mumbles.

 “Don’t be,” she says, barely above a whisper. She can feel his breath fanning across her back, “and yes I’d love to spend the day with you. In fact -” she flips quickly to her back, curling a finger below Shawn’s chin, “I can think of exactly one activity I’d love to do today.”

 “Pottery?” He replies.

 She snorts, not expecting his answer, and uses her hands to cover her face at the sound, “you are so fucking weird,” she manages between fits of giggles.

 “Hey,” Shawn states, in all seriousness, “don’t do that.”

 “Do what?” She questions, concerned with his stern look.

 He moves her hand away from her face, “hide yourself like that.”

 It’s like a scene out of a fucking movie, she thinks, and on cue he brushes a strand of hair out of her face. But being her, instead of I don’t know letting out a sigh or moan or anything, she burps.

 Shawn laughs, burying his face in her neck, his body vibrating with laughter on top of hers, “stop it’s not funny! I’m so embarrassed!”

 She pushes on his shoulder and he lifts his head, using his free hand to trace the curve of her cheek, “don’t be. What you should  be embarrassed of is that morning breath, it sucks.”

 “I ate pizza at one in the morning and you didn’t have mouthwash! Who doesn’t have mouthwash in their bathroom?”

 “Me, apparently,” he deadpans.

 She rolls her eyes and he feels his stomach sumersault.

 “So no plans, eh?” He asks in a burst of sudden uncharacteristic confidence.

 Her eyes avoid is, teasing him, “well now that you mention it, I might have some plans.”

 Shawn plants his lips behind her ear, her head turned away from his allowing him the perfect amount of access to all the freckles on her neck, his weakness. All the little spots that sprinkled across her skin in unique patterns that made her, her.

 “You sure about that?” He rasps, his teeth selecting a soft spot of flesh below her ear to bite down on.

 She loses all the air in her lungs when she feels his tongue make a swipe against her skin.

 “This good?” He whispers.

 She nods, “keep going.”

 And that’s really all it takes.

 Shawn peppers kisses down her throat between the valley of her breasts letting the thin sheet that once covered them fall to the side. Her hands immediately fall to her chest. Without the darkness of night to hide under, she feels the heat in her cheeks spread through her. It’s not an embarrassment, but a sense of vulnerability.

 Truthfully, before last night it had been a while since she “got some”. Between work and friends she really just didn’t have the mental capacity to include a man in her life and that was good enough for her at the time. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. Shawn thinks its in pleasure but in reality she’s counting backwards in her head.

 An anxiety attack during foreplay? That’s a new one, even for her.

 “Hey-” Shawn stops just above her navel, the sound of her rapidly beating heart catching up to him. He knows that sound anywhere, “are you okay? I can stop if this isn’t what you want.”

 “No, no it’s not you,” she sighs and pulls the sheet up to cover herself the best she can, “I’m just, I don’t know, stupid.”

 “You’re not,” Shawn crawls back up the bed next to her and holds her wrist, bringing her palm to his chest, “I get it, I’m nervous too.” She feels his rapidly beating heart beneath her palm.

 She breathes a sigh of relief, “maybe later?”

 Shawn smiles wide, “absolutely.”

 A few hours, a couple more layers, and several seasons of Friends later they’re still in bed but this time surrounded by Chinese takeout boxes.

 “Okay but hear me out, Ross and Rachel had the greatest love story of modern television,” Shawn pleads.

 She nearly spits out the General Tso in her mouth, “oh no, absolutely not. Get out of this bed. This bedroom. This condo. Now.”

 Shawn snorts, “this is my condo.”

 “I don’t care,” she groans, “don’t you ever say those words to me again. Monica and Chandler were clearly the best sitcom couple ever. Look at them!”

 She gestures to the TV. It’s the engagement episode and it always makes her tear up no matter how many times she’s seen it.

 “Okay, I’ll admit this scene always makes me cry,” he admits, wiping the corner of his eye.

 “Pussy,” she mutters.

 “What!” He throws his arms open, “you’re crying too! Don’t think I can’t see those little tears, missy.”

 Shawn reaches out and wipes a tear away with his thumb, “see, wetness.” He shows her the tiny blob of tear on his fingertip.

 She scrunches her nose, “don’t say it like that, pay attention to the tv.”

 He lets out a breathy laugh, “I’m more interested in paying attention to you.”

 Her eyes roll, “oh are you now?” She questions.

 Shawn moves the leftover boxes to his bedside table and rolls to pin her below him. His lips reach down to ghost hers, they’re sticky with saucy still, but he doesn’t mind. She reaches a shaky hand up to hold his face and she wonders whether her hands are too small or if his face is just too damn big.

 “You’ve got a big head,” she mumbles, his lips still brushing hers.

 He lets out a snort but doesn’t move, “and I’m the weird one.”

 “Just an observation,” she plays with the pendent hanging off his neck. It’s cool to the touch of her warm fingertips.

 She can feel the warmness building up inside of her. It starts in her chest and quickly spreads through her arms and legs and into her toes and fingertips. It’s the nerves, and she reminds herself to breathe. Shawn is so sure in his movements. He begins differently than last time, letting his mouth move slowly against hers, the laugh track from the show plays in the background.

 Slowly, and almost methodically, Shawn’s hands move to her sides and start to nudge up his shirt that she’s wearing. He pulls away for a second to look at her and she nods, raising her hands above her head for him to tug off the fabric.

 “You’re ridiculously beautiful,” Shawn sighs, taking her all in. He can see her cheeks turn pink.

 She reaches out and tugs on the collar of his shirt, “I bet you say that to all the naked girls that’ve been in your bed.”

 Shawn shakes his head and pulls his teeshirt off with one tug to the back of his neck, “never been many. None like you, at least.”

 “Hmm, sure,” she teases. She believes him. She hasn’t spent much time with him, but she’s spent enough to see that he has zero game with women beyond his good looks.

 Now it’s Shawn’s turn to roll his eyes, “shut up.”

 And she does, with a kiss, pulling him back down to her back the back of his neck. He crashes into her and it’s a new sense of ferocity; tongue against tongue, teeth clashing. It’s much messier than before and now that they’re both bare up top, she takes it upon herself to roll them over so she straddles his hips.

 Shawn’s hands immediately cling to her soft sides, letting his hands run up and down the curve of her hips and back. An electricity bolt runs through her and leaves burning embers where he’s touched her. Her skin is on fire and she can feel all the blood rushing through all her veins.

 She grinds down onto him, softly at first, but as their lips start to move in a rhythm, so do her hips. His length hardens below her and she can feel another type of warmness pooling in her lower belly.

 Shawn groans, and it’s not like, a good one. He sounds annoyed and he breaks the kiss, letting her sit up on him, “as much as I would love to keep this going the way it is, we used my one and only condom last night.”

 She chuckles, “one and only. Like - you ran out of them, or -”

 “Do you know if condoms have an expiration date?” He ponders from below her.

 She shrugs, “I think so...why how old was the one we used last night?”

 Shawn purses his lips, “...that’s not important,” she squeaks as he flips them over, “I do have another idea, however.”

 He places a tender kiss to her sternum.

 “And what’s that?” She pokes the scar in his cheek.

 “Can I go down on you?” Shawn asks.

 “Wow,” she pauses for a second, slightly taken aback, “I think you’re the first guy to ever ask if he could go down on me.”

 “Well I don’t like to assume -”

 “I’m not knocking it by any means, I dig consent,” she lets herself settle slightly further down the bed.

 “I know some girls don’t like it-”

 “Correction,” she cuts off, “all girls like it. Most guys just don’t know how to properly do it.”

 “I beg your pardon?”

 She laughs, “just don’t act like you’re drunk at two in the morning and my clit is a plate of leftover spaghetti.”

 “That’s going to be a really hard vision to get out of my head, why would you do that? I love spaghetti.” Shawn half laughs, half whines.

 “Oh just get on with it,” she commands, threading her fingers through Shawn’s already fucked curls.

 Without delay, Shawn bows his head down, his lips making contact with her hot skin. She’s less nervous than this morning. He isn’t quite sure what that was; whether it had something to do with him or something to do with her. He tried not to think about it too much.

 He focuses intently on her, mostly for her sake but also to try and distract from the ache between his legs. Shawn changes between kisses and licks as he makes his way down her body, making sure to really soak in every inch of her. She shivers when he uses his teeth to snap the waistband of her panties and he makes a mental note to do that again sometime.

 Shawn kisses the bare skin above the line and looks up, “okay?”

 She nods and he watches as her eyes roll backwards. His fingers hook around the edges and he tugs the fabric down slowly, making sure to kiss and touch every bit of newly exposed skin. He can smell her, how ready she is for him and it makes him sweat a bit. By the time he’s reached her ankles she’s already trembling and her chest rises and falls in big heaping breaths. He grabs her by the ankles and pushes them up the bed, allowing her to spread open for him and he’s pretty god damn sure he’s wasted on this girl already.

 “Fuck,” he whispers to himself.

 She manages a steady breath, “everything okay down there?”

 “Never. Been. Better.” He replies between kisses to the inside of her thigh.

 Shawn takes his sweet, sweet time. Breathing her in, watching her twitch each time his tongue swipes closer to where she craves him most. He nips at the tender skin on her inner right thigh, marking her for his own.

 She tries to steady herself by using one hand to clutch the sheets below her and the other to pull the curls on his head. He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, it encourages him.

 But she grows tired of waiting. She’s pretty sure she’s wetter than a water slide and any time he could start would be goddamn great.

 “You are slow as molasses - OH!”

 She’s caught off guard when Shawn’s tongue works itself against her clit.

 “Shiiiit, shit shit shit,” she whispers over and over to herself.

 Shawn looks up at her and she looks so fucking beautiful all blissed out on his bed. He works her more, circling around the bud gracefully with his mouth. He reaches up for her free hand and holds it tightly.

 The show has stopped, the ‘are you still watching?’ message popping up on screen, so now the only sounds that can be heard in Shawn’s condo are her breathless moans as he hits every new spot. He truly doesn’t mind. If he could, he’d record her sounds and replay them over and over. It would be the only thing he’d ever need for the rest of his life, he thinks.

 Shawn lets go of her hand, his tongue parting with her at the same time, “mouth,” he demands.

 She gets it and sits up slightly, wrapping her lips around the tips of his middle and pointer fingers. She slowly brings her head down until her lips have reached his knuckles. Shawn lets out an involuntary groan. She bobs her head a few more times, making sure to soak his fingers. She releases her final bob with a pop.

 “That was just the preview,” she winks, and falls backwards onto the bed.

 Shawn thinks he might just fucking die here on the spot.

 He picks up where he’s left off, his tongue rubbing figure eights against her clit. Slowly, he slides the two wet fingers into her core. She sucks in a sharp breath, “fuck Shawn.”

 He loves how vocal she is, it just eggs him on more. Shawn pumps his fingers in and out of her slowly, letting his long fingers sink deep into her wet folds. She continues to breathlessly whisper curses and declarations to god under her breath.

 Between his mouth and fingers she can barely take it. There’s a swirling heat in every part of her body and she’s wondering if she’ll survive this. Shawn is so calculated yet so not with his movements. He keeps to pace just until she’s grown used to it and then he’ll switch the angle or throw one of her legs over his shoulder.

 He’s been milking her for what seems like hours, time seems to flow by so much slower it’s like she’s watching the world outside in slow motion. The pressure in her stomach is gradually but surely building. He places her other leg over his shoulder and pushes her thighs up higher, giving him even more access to her.

 The new angle is all it takes, and she’s starting to squirm below him. He tries his best to keep her still in place by locking his arms around her thighs. His long, slim fingers slide so effortlessly in and out of her, the evidence of her arousal completely soaking his fingers, and now the sheet underneath her.

 He finally hits the spot he’s been looking for and curls his fingers in a come hither motion to rub against it again, “Shawn fuck you’re gonna make me cum.”

 Shawn smiles against her core, “isn’t that kind of the point?”

 “Oh shut up,” she breathes.

 A few more strong strokes against her spot and she’s unraveling below him. Her back arches off the mattress and he continues through her orgasm, making sure to soak up every last moment he has with her like this. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out and she trembles, still sensitive. He pops his fingers in his mouth, licking her off of him.

 “So how was that for not knowing how to do it?” Shawn asks, crawling up the bed and laying beside her.

 He wraps an arm around her and pulls her in close, “alright, I guess. Less of spaghetti leftovers and more of chugging a Gatorade.”

 Shawn laughs and kisses behind her ear, “I’ll take it, I guess. Didn’t see you complaining.”

 “Mhmm,” she hums, “no complaints here.”

 “Good,” he kisses the top of her head, “let’s keep it that way.”

 They lie like that for a while, not drifting off into sleep but into...bliss? She isn’t sure and can’t honestly remember the last time she came at the hands (and mouth) of a man.

 She sighs, “I should probably get going soon,” she plays with her fingertips and picks out the gunk underneath them.

 Stay, he thinks. But his mind and his mouth say two separate things, “yeah, maybe.”

 Her heart sinks only a little, but she’d already overstayed her welcome as the sun was starting to get low in the sky. Maybe they were both just mutually stupid or stubborn or all of the above. She wiggles out of his grip, picking up her scattered clothes from last night that lay across his floor.

 Say it, please, she begs to him in her mind, ask me to stay another night so I know you feel this too. But he doesn’t say anything, and orders her an Uber from his phone. He watches somberly as she leaves, mentally kicking himself in the balls for letting her walk out.

 He immediately regrets not asking her to stay, to crawl back into bed and cuddle or fuck or anything that allows him just a moment of time with her.

 Maybe if he had asked her to stay, he wouldn’t be where he was now.

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hello!!!! here is part 2. my blurbs just keep getting longer and longer at this point. let me know if this is something y’all would eventually maybe like to see as a series! i’m up for anything.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes blurb #actap

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ /2/ /3/ /4/ /5/ /6/ /7/ /8/ /9/ /10/ /11/ /12/ /13/ /14/ /15/ /16/ /17/ /18/ /19/ /20/ /21/ /22/ /23/ /24/ /25/ /26/ /27/ /28/ /29/ /30/ /31/ /32/ /33/ /34/ /35/ /36/

A/N: AYYEE This is a long one (~3,000 words) but the smutty ones tend to be that way. This night concludes rather successfully! Explicit content warning applies. 

Chapter 37.

“What was that… police courtesy card you gave Ben?” Noble wonders as we make our way down Seventh Avenue. The cold has us huddled side by side while we walk, hands buried in coat pockets. It’s a long walk from the karaoke bar in the Village to Noble’s hotel, but the chilled late night air helps sober us. “What is that?”

“Oh!” Vinny shouts from up ahead. Arm linked with Bianca’s, he turns to laugh at me over his shoulder. “Ben got the Jamie Reagan Black Card?”

“Shut up,” I groan. “He was a nice guy, alright? You’re one to talk, Vin.”

“What was it?” Noble questions again.

“They’re nothing,” I answer. 

“They’re like a friends-and-family get out of jail free card,” Vinny explains. “We’re allotted so many and we can give ‘em out to people as a courtesy.”

“Does it have your number on it?” Noble asks.

“No,” I tell him.

“I gave Ben my number!” Bianca calls out.

Noble ignores that and looks at me. “You never gave me one.”

“Nick doesn’t have one of your PBA cards?” Vinny turns and slows his pace so that we catch up to him.

“He doesn’t live here,” I contend. “And it’s not really a get out of jail free card. But if somehow you wound up in jail, it’s probably for good reason and my card’s not gonna do you any good.”

“Look man--” Vinny moves for his wallet from his back pocket. “You can have one of mine--”

“Oh, my god.” I cut my eyes up to the sky. “Ridiculous.”

Noble reaches out and takes the plastic card. “Thanks, Vinny.”

“You ever get pulled over in the five boroughs, you tell ‘em Officer Cruz from the Twelfth Precinct has got you.”

“I will, man.”

“You dumbass.” I laugh at that reassurance, lunging forward to shove Vinny’s back. 

“What about me? Where’s my card?” Bianca wonders as she lifts her chin to blink up beside him.

Vinny pulls her in closer, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leans down to her ear. There he mumbles something that makes her open her mouth in surprise and tip her head back with a loud laugh. I can only imagine what kind of police courtesy he offered her instead.

“So Vin--” Noble starts. “How are you getting back uptown. We wanna flag a cab, or--?”

“Rude!” Bianca accuses, glaring back at him. “God, Nick.”

“I’m not being rude! We’re all the way downtown so I was just curious--”

I have to laugh as I shake my head. Noble is always willing to play host for anyone except the guy who’s apparently trying to sneak his way behind a closed door with his sister. 

“Nah. It’s late, it’s cool.” Vinny points over his shoulder toward the subway station down the block. “I’ll jump on the 1.” 

As we draw closer to the Greenwich, Vinny looks up at the unassuming brick building, its heavy wood doors that sit back on the quiet block. “Oh yeah,” he muses. “I definitely remember this call. You went back to the scene of the crime, huh Reagan?”

“What can I say?” I tease, with a wistful glance at the facade. “I figured I should follow up on that noise complaint. And then, y’know, things happen.”  

Noble points at Vinny when I say that. “What’d I tell you? Shifty.”

“My boy was motivated.” Vinny chuckles. 

“I was diligent. In my police work.” I attempt an innocent retort, my hands spread, but it only makes the other two guys crack up. 

Vinny claps his hands hard as he doubles over, sputtering a laugh. “Alright, I’m gonna let you guys get after it.”

I’m just drunk enough that I don’t berate him for that comment. Because… I mean, yeah, let’s be honest.

“Oh lucky me,” Bianca laments. “Thank God for headphones.”

“Hey, it was great to meet you, Nick,” Vinny offers as he steps closer to Noble and they slap each others’ backs in an embrace. I’m kind of impressed at the way Vinny smoothly wraps things up. He’s not trying to make a deal or sweet talk his way upstairs. I won’t question it.

“You too, man,” Noble says. “Thanks for coming out with us tonight. You were a real sport.”

“Anytime. I had a blast.” Easing away, Vinny reaches over and smacks his palm hard against my chest. “And you know I got Reagan’s back up here.”

“I appreciate that,” Noble smiles. “You gotta watch him.”

“Come on,” I exhale a soft laugh and start to guide Noble toward the doors. “Later, Cruz. I’ll see you Monday.”

“N-No-no, hang on,” Noble hesitates even though I’m urging him to turn away so that Vinny can at least have his own space to say goodnight to Bianca. 

“I’m coming up, Nick,” she assures him with this annoyed insistence. “My god. Can’t I walk with him to the train?”

“No,” Noble denies her. “He walked with us here. And now we’re done.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, rubbing my fingers across my brow. 

“Yo, we’re good. We’re good,” Vinny decides and I know he doesn’t want to assert himself in any kind of tense brother-sister contention. “Bella, it was wonderful to meet you.” With open arms, he leans in for a hug, kissing her cheek on the way and she reciprocates, stretching up to squeeze him back. “Thank you for a great night--”

“Come on.” I repeat, tilting my head and tugging Noble away at the bend in his arm. 

Vinny briefly leaves her with some kind of murmured message at her ear before they pull apart. 

“Bye Vinny,” Noble calls out while I roll my eyes. 

Vinny turns down the street and the three of us head inside the hotel.

***

“No, you can’t.” Noble doubts me. 

I pull open the bathroom door and let the light there filter into the otherwise dark bedroom. He stands beside the bed, the both of us undressed to t-shirts and boxers. He concentrates on his phone until music starts to float from the speaker on the nightstand.

“I can too,” I insist from the other side of the doorway. I shake my toothbrush and replace it on the rim of the sink before giving my face a quick glance in the mirror to slide my hand across my jawline.

“I’ve got like, twenty pounds on you,” he reasons. “And what, three inches?”

Turning, my brows pull together and I look at him like I’m offended. “What?” I scoff. 

He spreads his hands as he comes closer. “You’re supposed to say in all the right places.”

Smacking the bathroom light off, I approach him in the bedroom. “I can too. You think I grew up with two brothers and never learned how to powerbomb somebody.”

“Something tells me you were the one being powerbombed.”

“Well yeah,” I laugh and then point to him. “But don’t doubt my size, man.”

“Oh, I don’t. I doubt my own size because I eat a lot of bread--”

“I’d do a fireman’s carry,” I start. “Over the shoulder. Power drop. Finisher.”

“Let’s see it--”

Lunging for him, I grab onto his forearm before dropping to one knee. I shoot my arm between his legs, urging him to fall over my shoulder.

“No-no-no--” Noble protests before he cackles his loud laugh and I start to lift him off the ground. “Holy shit, dude!” His voice almost cracks he’s laughing so hard.

I balance him there across my shoulders as I get to my feet, grounding myself. Jostling him a little, I bounce him up once just to freak him out.

“How are you doing this?” He cries out. “Oh my god.”

“You thought I couldn’t pick you up,” I explain. “Watch, this is some Jake the Snake shit. Ready?”

“No!” He keeps laughing through his panic and I have to chuckle with him while I maneuver my way closer to the bed.

“How many inches have you got on me?” I question him.

“None!” He calls out.

“Huh?”

“I’ve got nothing on you, man.”

I tilt him over, leaning with him until I flip him to the bed and he lands hard on his back. Following in close on my knees, I can’t resist a fakeout elbow drop to his chest before I collapse at his side. “You okay?” I smile through my breathless question.

“Yes. In my adult life, I don’t think anyone’s ever picked me up,” he tells me as he shifts to prop himself up on his side. 

“Yeah, well you challenge me like that and that’s what happened.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Yeah, we’ll work on it.”

Moving a leg over my thigh, he slides on top of me. “You’re a real sneaky badass and I’m into it.” 

Grasping the sides of his head, I lift up a little to touch my mouth to his. But he easily sinks into me, crawling over and he settles there, letting his weight pin me to the bed with a heavy let’s-get-fucking-lost kiss. It feels so damn good beneath him, the slow rock of my hips as they lift against his.

I push up the sides of his t-shirt and he ducks out of it before I toss it to the floor. He does the same for me, urging me upright to pull mine off before we collapse once again on top of the covers. 

My hands skate up the broad plane of his back, over taut curves of smooth muscle and I hold him to me. It’s like I need the pressure of him in order to release all of the tension I hold onto.

Eventually his mouth pulls away from mine and he dips his head, nudging beneath my jaw to touch a slow, warm kiss to my throat.

With a lazy stretch, I appreciate him there. I curl my fingers in his messy hair, then angle my head to watch as he moves lower.

“We need to be quiet, huh?” I slant a smile at him in the darkness. “We probably sounded crazy as shit just then.”

He chuckles. “I don’t care. The door’s locked. Let her think you’re pounding me like a fucking savage.”

“God,” I say in an amused exhale. “You’re such a fucking sleaze and you wish.”

He laughs at my accusation. “Well alright then be quiet.” Glancing up from underneath thick eyelashes, he lowers his mouth to my waist and presses his lips there.

“Well I didn’t mean--”

“Ah--” He stops me as he grips the edge of my underwear and starts to inch it down. “You’re quiet.”

I pinch my lips together as I look at him, already tilting into him as he slips my hard-on from my boxers. 

Easily he gets rid of them before he strokes a loose fist up my shaft and positions his knees on either side of my leg.

A sharp inhale draws into my chest when I feel the warmth of his tongue. It drags along the head of my dick, slowly consuming me as I arch my neck and let my eyes fall shut at the sensation.

He dips lower, I sink further into the heat of his mouth. I reach down and run a hand up the back of his head remembering his instructions to stay quiet but, ah fuck. The praise escapes me anyway in an airy whisper

I groan in approval when his hand wraps around my cock. He gets it slick with his tongue and guides my length further between his perfect lips. “Oh my god. Fuck yes.” I breathe the words as I push my head back against the bed.

Slowly, he releases me but still teases the ridge of my dick with the tip of his thumb. “What happened to being quiet?”

I sigh, my chest lifting with a heavy breath. “I am.”

“Shh--” He warns me before that hot mouth slips around me once more.

Suppressing a gravelly moan, my chest tightens. But who am I fucking kidding if I think I can restrain the noises, the desperate encouragement and pleas that threaten to escape me?

I feel him come closer, pushing his shoulder beneath my thigh as he urges one leg to bend beside his head. His other hand is there, running a palm hard up my inner thigh and down underneath my hip.

God, I love it when he’s all over me like this, massaging my balls, teasing between my asscheeks with a fingertip. The slow bob of his head owning me completely.

“Oh please, please.” I barely whisper the begging request. I don’t even know if it’s for him or the universe or what but fuck I want it so bad. “God, Noble, make me come,” I murmur, tilting my chin up, my mouth falling open with a hard shaky breath. “Don’t stop.”

With a low, aroused groan, he shifts, pulling off of me just enough to whisper a throaty god damn of his own before his mouth descends again. His wet fist strokes the length of me while he parts the cheeks of my ass with his other hand.

I can’t contain a desperate moan and I let one arm fall across my mouth. The tease of his fingertip while he just fucking works me with his other hand is making my head spin. It’s been a while since he’s given me head like this. Everything he does to me sends me over the edge, but this drives me there in its own intense, skillful way. It’s hard to compete with its unraveling effect on me.

My core clenches. Hard exhales twitch my abs and I have to squeeze my mouth shut once more before I get loud. The sounds of my near-climax just growl inside me, hot and barely controlled.

Yes, yes yes, ohh just like that. I’m gonna come. I don’t even know if I say it out loud or not.

When it overtakes me, I know I call out this rusty, rough groan. My brain doesn’t catch up in time to muffle it somewhere. I struggle to restrain my breath as my muscles contract, again and again with an orgasm that keeps its grip on me longer than I expect it to.

Finally, my sighs shift to a quiet laugh when his mouth tickles the overly sensitive head of my cock. I flinch there on my back and sit up to look at him. “Oh my god, okay okay--” I chuckle. 

Chest heaving, I flop back down, panting deep as I try to blink the room back into focus. “Oh my god,” I murmur absently.

Noble moves away for a moment while I just lay there and recover. The idle downbeat from his music helps to temper the rush of my pulse as my breath subconsciously begins to match it.

Soon, the bed dips with his weight beside me. He starts to pull the covers down and I lift my hips to settle in with him. Freezing outside but warm and relaxed in this bed, it feels so good with him, to wear nothing underneath these sheets and feel him up against me.

He simply lets a little amused twitch pull at his lips. I trail fingertips along the wave of hair at his forehead and manage a calming breath. My enamored gaze catches his and something about the wordless look from him as he hovers a whisper away from my lips makes my throat clench. 

The way I can tell how bad he wants me in the glow of his eyes is such a damn turn on. He dips toward me, rests his forehead against mine and eases in closer. 

We fall into one another, long lingering kisses that heat up with need in the dark. My hands rake through his hair. His coast up my side and down my thigh before I slide my leg open. Beneath the covers, he moves on top of me once more.

So much time is spent just feeling, immersed in the stroke of hungry mouths, stung lips and the rise and fall of his solid form against my own. 

The pressure of his hard-on against my hip begs for me and I reach down to grasp him there. A choppy exhale that I feel across my lips rushes out of him. 

Our touches get the other ready, still unspoken, relying on our other senses to direct us. Pausing an easy moment for the condom he had waiting nearby, we’re back into it. From beneath him, I slink further onto my back and urge him inside of me, slow but fuck, so intense when he fills me like this.

My mouth parting, I arch my neck. A low groan is on the verge of cracking in my throat but Noble drops his forehead there and hisses and breathy Shhh… across my skin.

I just exhale hot instead, picking my head up to find his mouth. 

He sighs hard into my kiss, tugging for control I’m not quite willing to give up. I need him to just take it. His hand wraps around my forearm, squeezing hard before he slaps it to the bed. Pinning it there beside my head, he straightens his arm and drives himself deeper inside me.

I gasp to swallow new air, my chest burning, a heavy exhale leaving me. Shamelessly, I offer up my other arm, bending at the elbow beside the pillow.

He grasps that wrist, a hard pressure there that makes me all his. Then he loosens his grip to slide his hand into mine. 

Rhythmic, panting breath mingling, we ride each other like that until I can feel his urgency start to build. He lets go of my arms and I hold him to me. The tension gripping him, he chokes on an airy whimper and comes -- hard and relentless -- until he’s completely broken.

#jamie x noble

[ruthdemoofins]

Cor Tutor Chapter 2/? - Perc’ahlia fanfic

When Vex heads home after a long chat with Pike, Saundor enters the scene. Percival and Vex meet for the first time and it's entirely unconventional.

Read the first chapter on AO3: (X) 

“I don’t know, Pike, Percival de Frankenstein Von Muscle Claws-out-seat de Rolo the Third? He obviously must be a completely loaded dickhead if he’s got such a long fucking name. Vax and I probably ransacked his place a few years ago, probably stole his prized pocket watch or ugh-” Vex cut off in a frustrated growl, aggressively tugging at her braid as she sank down into her seat a bit.  

Pike, glancing up from her textbook, offered a sympathetic smile, shrugging her shoulders, “Oh, I don’t know, Vex,” she sighed softly, brushing some stray strands of her blonde hair behind her ear, “It might not be a bad thing, you might just make a friend out of it.”

“Or I might just make a rich little fuck bleed,” Vex spits out, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, the very image of a petulant child. He’ll probably be just like all the other rich little fucks from “home,” who mocked her and her brother at every turn for their attempts to fit in and then for their attempts to stay as far away as they could from their little niche cliques.

Pike covered her mouth to hide her smile at Vex’s current, pouting state, though her dimples gave her away anyway. “Well, I wouldn’t judge him too harshly,” she offers, taking a bite of the bagel she’d bought before trudging to the library. “I’ve never met him personally, but he seems to carry a lot of weight with him. He and his sister lost their entire family in a fire, you know.”

Vex rolled her eyes as though that information didn’t matter. She and her brother lost their mother to a fucked up murderer, but you don’t see them asking for pity.

“He’s not asking for pity, though,” Pike says, reading her mind because, of course, Pike knows her and all of their friends better than anyone (or even themselves), “I just know that from what I’ve heard.”

Vex’ahlia flips through her textbook, pretending to give a shit before finally, she’s giving a loud groan of defeat, “Fine, I won’t chicken out, but I will find you to complain when he’s fucking gushing about money or he turns out to be a complete creep.”

Pike makes a soft, popping noise with her lips as her eyes flare, surely searching for the right words to scold Vex’ahlia for jumping to conclusions, but when she sees the twinkling mirth in Vex’s eyes, she falters. “You can’t joke with me like that right now,” she weakly informs, soft, platinum waves bouncing as she shakes her head, “My brain is just…completely fried and it isn’t even midterms.”

Vex offers a sympathetic smile as she reaches over, rubbing Pike’s shoulder supportively, “You’ll charge through this semester like you always do. Nursing is just one giant battle to get through, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” Pike sighs, her scrawny shoulders seeming to deflate as she slumped forward. Vex knows that being the mother hen of their little rag-tag group of friends doesn’t help her studies either, whether it’s from Grog coming to her to question her about itchy balls for “his friend” or Scanlan drooling all over her.

Thankfully, Pike is always level-headed, even when she’s bogged down.

“I’m going to head home and find out whether my brother’s still at Gilmore’s or out with ‘his Kiki,’” she retches a bit, clumsily snatching her bag and dragging it from the table as she stands.

“Well, whoever he’s with, it’ll do him some good,” Pike pointedly arches a brow as she glances up over her book to Vex.

“He might be sleeping with them both,” Vex dramatically groans, whipping her bag over her shoulder. “I can’t fucking understand him, sometimes, Pike. Love is shit,” she kicks the leg of the chair she’d previously been lounging in to push it back into the table, resulting in a squeak that has a few, annoyed glares from other library-goers directed towards her. “Fuck off,” Vex mutters, scowling.

Pike only looked at her with those easy-to-read eyes, clearly throwing out an “I’m worried about you” gaze that has Vex twisting her lips in frustration. “I don’t know,” she exasperatedly bit out, “I’m happy that he’s getting out and being with people, but I’m also his detached Siamese twin and I miss him sometimes,” Pike’s full attention is on her now, though she’s lightly nibbling at her bagel. Her eyes soften and fill Vex with reassurance that what she’s saying isn’t insane. Pike is one of the only people she can actually talk to, anyway. Grog wants to talk about drinking, football or bashing faces in, Scanlan wants to flirt with his foul limericks, Keyleth wants to talk about her manic-pixie thoughts about nature and Trinket, well, Trinket can only listen and wuff.

“I’m afraid he’ll stop telling me things, I’m afraid he has stopped telling me things.”

Pike waited a few beats after this to be sure Vex had fully ranted before, in the way Vex and their other friends often mimicked when Pike wasn’t there, said: “Well…” she took a few seconds as she searched for words before giving Vex a smile. “I think you’d certainly do well to tell him that, but maybe not so…”

“Pissily?” Vex offers with a weak grin, and Pike nods.

“I’m sure he’s not keeping you out of the loop, anyway, but it might be awkward to talk about his love life, you know?” she offers.

“Yeah, you’re right,” there’s less of a weight on her chest and she’s grateful for that. Vex pushed her bag’s strap further up her shoulder and gave a nod. “You usually are, anyway. I’ll be off, then. Text you later and try not to drown in books, yeah?”

Pike looks visibly relieved to have helped in some way and bobs her head, smile brightening. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

Vex exits the library, scowling faintly at the cloudy sky before setting off-campus for her and Vax’s flat.

She was nearly finished with untangling her headphones when she heard a sudden, echoing pang of footsteps behind her. Unbidden paranoia had her glancing over her shoulder, and it wasn’t useless unbidden paranoia either.

His pale skin and his oaky brown eyes had a way of making her stomach twist and the way his greasy, slick black hair clung to his face made her skin crawl.

She’d never come across a person who made her so uncomfortable. Sure, Syldor brought forth tsunamis, but never a discomfort as this.

Saundor.

Vex quickly surveyed the area; thankful that she’d forgone any alley shortcuts and stuck to the open sidewalk.

She was also thankful that there was no chance Vax would happen upon this.

It’d all started a year ago, when she’d gone on a class trip between her Advanced Earth Sciences course and Keyleth’s Writing With Nature elective (to go to the forest once a week just to write seemed entirely boring to her). As Vex had eyed the group, as she always eyed any groups or persons around her, she noted Saundor, slinking far and away from the rest of the students.

Vex, tired of Keyleth’s not-so-inconspicuous questions about Vax, had approached him. She was always fond of outcasts, having been one herself, and knew it’d be her good deed of the day to chat up the pale, pale boy.

Vax always insisted they should be guarded, always said that most people wanted the wrong things from them. Meeting their group of friends (or rather, the S.H.I.T.s  as they’d called themselves for that one karaoke contest) had been a completely chance occurrence, and a good one, at that.

Vex, of course, did love doing the opposite of what he said.

And so she spoke with him, briefly, about his course. It was for her own benefit, really, as she was curious as to what they even wrote about.

Immediately, she realized Vax was right and she’d been horribly stupid.

“I feel as though I’ve known you for a very long time,” Saundor had told her, ignoring her question entirely, and the intensity of his gaze still made her cringe to that very day.

She’d immediately stuttered out a horrible excuse, something along the lines of: “I think my friend needs help getting a leaf out of her hair,” and hurriedly left.

Needless to say, she was happy to endure Keyleth’s dreamy, dedicated soliloquies about the trees that day, though Saundor watched her the entire time from afar.

It hadn’t ended there, of course. After snooping about, Saundor found her name, her social media, messaged her on every possible platform for weeks. He told her of his intense feelings of her, described how she appeared to him the first time he saw her on that trip, tried to convince her that they were ‘destined’ for one another.

Vex had simply blocked him, but he found her cell-phone number next, called her when she wasn’t around and Vax, being the asshole he was, had answered the phone and immediately confronted her after Saundor demanded to know who he was and why he thought he had any worth to Vex, who belonged with him.

She’d told him everything, and while Vax was entirely pissed off for a day (she knew it reminded him of the reason why he’d joined that shit little Clasp gang when they were young), he’d bought her a switchblade and made her promise to keep it close, even though he knew she already had the pepper spray he’d bought her when she’d been far younger.

Things had been quiet for a few days, but eventually,  they’d found a stick on their doorstep with a rudimentary carving of a very Vex-like woman and Saundor-like male. After that, Vax had insisted upon walking her to class for a week, and eventually, thankfully, Saundor had gone away.

But now, he was here again, following her with those disgustingly sad eyes.

“What the fuck do you want?” Vex hissed as she turned on her heel, mentally reminding herself that her switchblade was in the front pocket of her messenger bag if he got to close, and her pepper spray on her keychain if he pissed her off from afar.

“I only wanted to see you; I missed you,” Saundor said in his soft, melancholic rumble of a voice.

“You don’t know me,” Vex immediately retorted with ire, not at all phased by the way he forlornly tilted his head at her, as if he didn’t quite get what she was saying.

He moved closer, until he was at least two feet away from her and offered a chilling smile, his hand extended towards her, “You do, though,” he said, “We have a deal to make, one that will help us both. I understand your pain, your mother-“

Vex’s horribly-contained-cool completely shattered, melting into a molten, livid rage, “You don’t fucking know her, you don’t have the right to speak of her!” she spat out, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. Her fists were clenched so hard that her nails left half-moons upon her palms, body trembling with the urge to charge, to bash his fucking face in. The fucker had probably found the fucking newspaper articles of her murder online, probably poured over every little thing he could find from fucking Google.

“I know enough to know that we are meant-“

Vex phased out, forcing her mind to ignore his aside to glance around at their surroundings, at…

A head of stark, white hair approaching caught her eye and immediately, Vex was moving past Saundor towards the man, no, student with white hair (she’d ponder over why the fuck he had white hair later) and a long navy colored coat.

“Darling,” she cooed, to the stranger’s obvious befuddlement. Ignoring his confusion, she reached for his hand that wasn’t clutching a bag and gripped it tightly in hopes that he’d understand something wasn’t right. “I’m glad you caught up with me.”

“I’m…” the stranger’s blindingly blue eyes studied her for a moment, his brow furrowed lightly before he looked past her to Saundor. “I-I’m glad too?” he asked unconvincingly.

“Of course you are, dear,” she crooned, turning to look to Saundor, who, thankfully, looked entirely confused. She hardly knew him and she knew this could be bad, that he could act upon his possible rage, but she had no problem beating the ever-loving shit out of him herself. “I was just giving this stranger directions to the university, but I didn’t expect you to surprise me like this!” her tone is so honeyed and drenched with sweetness that Vex wants to either vomit or scrape the sugar from her tongue with a hot knife. Still, it’s the kiss she places on the stranger’s scruffy, peppered cheek that has her reeling from her obscenity. The poor man takes it though, his face flushing into a lovely shade of pink. “I-I,” he stutters, his hand trembling lightly in her grip, “I wanted to-ah…surprise you,” he repeats, lifting his other hand with a bag that she recognizes as take out. Judging by the distinct, spicy smell, she can only conclude that it’s from Jarret’s place.

“You brought me takeout? Oh, darling.”

The stranger looks to the bag and then her, suddenly wearing an expression that’s honestly hilarious in that moment, a look that clearly states “Don’t you even think about it.”

But she does.

Vex turns to peer over her shoulder and fucking thankfully, Saundor has vanished. She immediately drops the stranger’s hand and knowing fully well that she’s an asshole, she takes his bag of takeout.

He stutters adorably as she walks down the sidewalk with purpose, her free hand finding her can of pepper spray, just in case Saundor’s waiting for her around a corner.

“W-Wait!” he calls as he finally figures out how to form words, and she rolls her eyes before glancing over her shoulder, giving him one of her trademark winks before calling: “Thanks!”  

She needs to take a long, hot shower to get Saundor’s grimy words off of her, completely devour her unexpected spoils and not mention a single fucking thing to Vax.

Just after she’s fallen asleep past midnight, after a long, struggling session of trying to understand some of her stats homework so she wouldn’t seem like a total idiot for her tutoring session, her phone vibrates.

With a single, squinting eye, Vex noted a message from Percival, plugged into her contacts as “The Tutor” with an eye-rolling emoji resting beside it.

When she opened her phone to view the message, she wasn’t sure she was even fucking awake.

Miss Vessar

I’ll be happy to work with you tomorrow, as requested, at two in the afternoon. Please find me on the second floor of the library in the corner behind the large stack collection. Have a good evening.

-Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III

For a long time, Vex stared at her phone screen, lips parted and eyes wide open in confusion.

With numb fingers, she replied with a simple “Ok. Thanks,” before she promptly rolled onto her side and broke out in guffawing laughing.

She laughed until she was “hoo”ing for breath, her stomach pinching and her eyes watering.

Who in the world wrote texts like they’d been sent by raven? Honestly, it was adorable.

“What the fuck, Vex’ahlia?” Vax groaned from his nearby mattress, the thought of why she was laughing making her snicker to herself.

“Oh, nothing. Go back to sleep, brother,” she sidled further down under her covers, holding her phone to her stomach for a moment before returning it to the floor beside her mattress.

She had to admit, she felt a bit better about walking into the library to meet Percival the next day after that text, or rather, intrigued.

The next day, before class, she’d spent a bit of time on her bulking laptop to search his name up, pleased to find a social media account. Before school, during the days her and Vax struggled for a foothold to let her study, she’d done a similar form of work for Gilmore. He’d send her client names and she’d find everything she could online, all with the purpose of gathering Gilmore all the information on them as she could so he could successfully barter or appeal to them.

The only profile on Percy contained no pictures of the man in question, though, instead, his profile picture was a sketch of a mask with goggles and a long, dark beak. It was odd, but it had her keen on meeting him. Vex liked odd people (not the Saundor kind of odd), her entire group of friends had their oddities about them. She’d rather be as far from the aristocratic, snobby children who mocked those who were different and be with the different.

Vax, of course, hated her easygoing feelings on strangers, always insisted that she needed to be more wary of people and insisted upon this even more after the Saundor-incident.  .

As Vex walked towards the aisle of over-sized books, she felt a mild trepidation, wondered if she was about to meet Saundor the Second, or perhaps someone even worse.

Shaking off her worries and touching a finger to the small blue feather hanging from a chain upon her neck as she always did when anxious, Vex stepped behind the rack.

When she spotted a head of white hair in disarray, her eyes blew wide open.

Fuck.

#perc'ahlia #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #critical role #critical role fanfic