#it still doesn’t feel perfect but she’s about to confiscate the phone from me if I keep rewriting this lol

[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

#this used to be 10k words lol #I’ve rewritten it soooo many times #Roman Roy #Succession #Succession HBO #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy one shot #roman roy fanfic #roman roy imagine #succession smut #succession fanfic #succession imagine #succession one shot #mine #can’t believe I’m following up kittens & perverts w/ this filth lmao #it still doesn’t feel perfect but she’s about to confiscate the phone from me if I keep rewriting this lol #cruelty & empathy

[phoenix-manga]

Babysitting Pokemon 101

Crowley thought it would be a good idea to help the students familiarize themselves with Pokemon by getting to know one personally. And what better way to do that than have Phoebe let the dorms babysit the baby Pokemon she has on her.

Heartslabyul + Happiny

“Phoebe, you don’t have to worry! Trey is good with children and nothing will go wrong! As the dorm leader, I promise you that everything will be perfect”

⊖ Happiny was a dearie to babysit in Heartslabyul. It followed Trey and Riddle around and would emulate what they were doing. Trey was baking sweets in the kitchen? Happiny is carrying a mixing bowl and keeping watch of the oven. 

⊖ Riddle needs the roses painted red? Happiny is already there with its own brush full of red paint, though it might need a bit of lifting up due to the height.

⊖ Needless to say, Happiny is probably one of the easiest to look after... At least until Cater got distracted by the likes he got for posting its adorable pictures that he realized Happiny was gone. He panics and runs around the dorm looking for the Pokemon.

Eventually, Riddle finds out and he storms up to Cater and was shaking him silly while yelling at how could he be so caught up in his phone that he failed to realize that the baby was walking off. 

⊖ Ace and Deuce was tasked to assist him in finding Happiny or else he’d have their heads. Not wanting to anger the dorm leader, they sprinted off and searched from top to bottom for Happiny.

⊖ They eventually found it in the rose maze, Happiny came upon white round stones it found in a clover patch. Cater got out of his punishment for being collared but Riddle confiscated his phone. Which was just as bad as getting collared, according to Cater.

Savanaclaw + Chingling

“Ugh... Why did that stupid headmaster have to force this thing on me? Ruggie, you take care of it, it looks like it’ll make too much noise and ruin my naps”

⊖ Ruggie was forced to look after Chingling because Leona doesn’t care much for looking after the baby Pokemon at all. The hyena thinks it’s going to be difficult and though Jack has experience with kids, this kids is... not quite like a person he’s used to.

⊖ To their surprise, Chingling was actually very helpful! It used Heal Bell after their practice in magift and everyone felt rejuvenated. Ruggie was definitely changing his tune about looking after it, but he still kept in mind that its an unknown animal and makes sure not to irritate it. 

⊖ From what he heard from Phoebe, this one can... make a noise that’s very loud if it feels threatened. And considering this is a dorm filled with students with sensitive hearing... that’s a chaotic combo.

⊖ One day, a few senior students at the dorm were arguing with the juniors on who gets to have Chingling use its Heal Bell on, things were getting aggressive and Chingling was starting to grow anxious.

⊖ Then it happened. It let out a wail by using Uproar that got the students in the area to collapse to the ground while holding their ears to try and stop that deafening sound. But it was useless because it just got louder the more they try to get it to stop.

⊖ Leona fell off his bed when his eardrums were assaulted by that hideous racket. Ruggie tried to coax it to stop but it didn’t work, not even him offering his precious donuts would get it to stop crying. Jack transformed into his wolf form and curled around Chingling who started to settle down and snooze into his soft fur. He was hailed as a savior.

⊖ When Leona showed up and was about to start yelling, Ruggie actually rushed to him to shove a donut in his mouth before he could start roaring which could cause Chingling to cause another Uproar again.

⊖ Ruggie is going to regret it later but right now he needs Leona to shut his damn pie hole unless he wants the entire dorm to go deaf!

Octavinelle + Mantyke

“This little fish will be no trouble at all for me! I can assure you that my dorm is fit to look after your precious creature”

⊖ Azul was confident that he can look after Mantyke without any sort of trouble. But he underestimated how much energy it has and how much it hated a limited space. Mantyke was fine with swimming in his office with the corals and fishes in his aquarium. 

⊖ He though it was cute as it greets him through the glass. Floyd was loving how slippery it was when he placed his hands in the tank to give it a small squeeze. But then it grew bored after an hour of being in the tank, and Azul was managing Mostro Lounge at this hour. So, it decided to “go” somewhere.

⊖ Needless to say, Azul let out a shriek when he sees Mantyke flopping about his office floor. He dropped what he was carrying and picked it up to put it back in the tank. He thought that was the end of it... until it kept happening.

⊖ Azul is puzzled and is stressing out at its unusual behavior. Floyd pointed out the obvious and simply stated that it wants to go somewhere. Thinking that it was a bit ridiculous until Jade agreed with his brother, he tried to relocate it.

⊖ He placed Mantyke in the tank that was in Mostro Lounge where it also has access to the open waters. There were no more incidents of flopping fish after that. He made note to give Floyd a raise in his paycheck.

⊖ Mantyke drew in more customers when it happily swam through the water in a display of a dance. Cater’s magicam post on it was also another reason to draw in the crowds.

⊖ Phoebe better keep Azul away from Mantyke, he’s thinking of capitalizing on this Pokemon’s adorableness.

Scarabia + Cleffa

“It’s a cute little baby! Phoebe said it as rumored to come from space, you think it’s a live wishing star?”

⊖ Cleffa was sort of easy to look after. As long as there is music, Cleffa is there dancing its strange moves. The Scarabia students didn’t mind, in fact they found it cute and some of the more energetic ones would try to emulate the dance which ended up being a hit trend on magicam.

⊖ They called it the “star dance”, Cleffa was just happy to have music to dance to. On the other hand, the majority of its other needs fell to Jamil’s hands as Kalim would sometimes forget that it needed to bathe or to be fed at this time.

⊖ Jamil finds Cleffa more tolerable to look after but he doesn’t like how Kalim’s forgetfulness causes too much trouble. Cleffa took notice of it and thought that the only solution to make him less grumpy... was to Sing at the next banquet.

⊖ All of the dorm students who were present at that party fell asleep to Cleffa’s Sing. Thinking it did the right thing, it proceeded to have a bit of food before sleeping on a pillow between Jamil and Kalim.

⊖ The next morning, there was a viral photo of the Scarabia dorm head and vice dorm head sleeping on the floor with their “child”, at least according to Cater’s description. Kalim laughs it off but Jamil, he is storming over to Cater and is going to shove that phone into his gut.

Pomefiore + Azurill

“What lesson can even come from looking after these creatures? It’s not like we’ll end up finding one in the wild anyway...”

⊖ Azurill was... a bit hard to look after. It cried when Phoebe handed it to Rook. It took a bit of consoling to get it to stop crying but it was still nervous of being in a different place. Vil tried to get it to stop shaking, assuming that the anxiety could cause it health problems as with all animals.

⊖ But it seems like it was too shy, often taking its food in the corner of his room and not leaving that spot until he leaves. Rook doesn’t help because he just scares the poor thing. Epel? No good either, he doesn’t know how to handle it when it cries.

⊖ His solution came when he tried to make a perfume that had a calming effect on the Pokemon. A quick visit to Ramshackle to see Azurill’s preferred environment and he has a solid idea on what to base the scent on. Nothing was too challenging for him when it comes to cosmetics.

⊖ He returns to his room to see if it works, at first, Azurill is trembling until it caught a whiff of the perfume. Azurill runs up to Vil, looking at him with curiosity. Vil feels good about his achievement in getting the little one to calm down, but it soon backfires on him because now it wants to stay by his side at all times. 

⊖ Thankfully, spraying Rook and Epel with the perfume was enough for him to get his personal space back. 

⊖ But he takes care not to spray the perfume on all three of them at once while around Azurill, the poor dear was so overwhelmed by the perfume that is got dizzy and felt a bit sick.

Ignihyde + Pichu

“W-Why did the headmaster rope me into taking care of this... It would have been fine if it was a tamagotchi, I can take care of old school pet games but this is out of my expertise!”

⊖ While it wasn’t as big and scary as the Metagross back then, Pichu seems keen on avoiding him since it was scared of him. It would always hide somewhere in the dorm and Ortho would scan the area to find it.

⊖ It misses Phoebe terribly and would sniffle and cry. It was quite problematic, neither Idia or the Pokemon want to be near each other or interact at all! Ortho was at a loss for a solution on what to do right now. Until he remembered that Pichu had difficulty in controlling its electricity, and Phoebe made a special ball toy for it to absorb the shock.

⊖ Maybe if his brother made it a toy, it would be willing to get along with him. At first, Idia was reluctant but since it was his brother who asked, he makes a fancy toy for Pichu. It was more of a small playhouse that had plenty of features that won’t malfunction from Pichu’s electric shocks.

⊖ Ortho carefully guided Pichu to the playhouse, upon seeing a new fun toy to play with, Pichu dashed towards it. It loved the new toy very much that it sparked electricity, but due to the absorption feature, the electric currents didn’t fly everywhere. 

⊖ Idia thinks that Pichu’s rather... cute... though he still kept his distance, at least he didn’t shut himself in his room this time. It was progress at least.

Diasomnia + All?!

“Lilia got carried away and told Crowley we can handle all the little creatures in our dorm... Sebek’s praises weren’t helpful either, fret not child of man. I’m sure we can handle them”

⊖ Lilia insisted that they take in all the baby Pokemon to Diasomnia. Phoebe is kind of nervous but Crowley doesn’t seem to mind and let loose the children.

⊖ Hoo boy... They were in for a chaotic time, first off all, Pichu and Azurill feel scared of the gothic style of the dorm. Second, Mantyke had to be carried in the mini pool by Sebek due to the lack of ocean to keep it from flopping out of its container. 

⊖ And third, Lilia was too lost in the happy playtime with the Pokemon that he couldn’t hear Sebek screaming when he got shocked by Pichu or Silver sleeping through Chingling’s Uproar.

⊖ Malleus held Cleffa in his arms though, he was very intrigued that they were classified as “Fairies” in Phoebe’s world. He quite enjoyed Cleffa’s little dance whenever he plays violin, he makes sure to play it whenever it was his turn to care for Cleffa.

⊖ Lilia tho... the man who started this mess was having way too much fun with the baby Pokemon. Surprisingly, Pichu and Azuril calmed down when he cradled them, probably due to his natural parental skills. But the moment he has to let Sebek or Silver take care of them, its back to chaotic shenanigans again.

⊖ Everyone in the dorm thinks that Lilia’s doing this so that both would let him take over their portion of the duty to spend more time with the baby Pokemon.

#headcanons #pokemon #twst x pokemon #pokemon x twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #scarabia #octavinelle #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #cater diamond #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #idia shroud

[trvncyz]

Jujutsu Kaisen characters during Ramzan || random headcanons|| part 2

note: before i start, i would like to clear out that these are just some things which happen in my house and may differ from your culture. this is just how i would imagine the jjk characters to behave during ramzan. hope you enjoy! this is part 2 and is a continuation to this post. feel free to add more in the reblogs.

-5/10/2021

part 1- nobara, itadori, megumi, gojo

part 2- inumaki, panda, maki, yuta, nanami

Inumaki Toge

before i start writing about him , i want you to know that i've been obsessed with him recently. he's such a cute little baby!!!!!

toge, megumi, yuta, nanami and noritoshi are all similar during ramzan.

they're all really chill during ramzan, never willingly missing out on fasts.

now coming back to toge, he starts ramzan very excitedly and is really good for the month.

no pranks, no swearing even in onigiri ingredients.

he prays on time, 5 times a day.

he doesnt attend taraweeh though. just prays at home smh

onigiri for iftar. oh and, he helps his mom set out the table

now, i imagine toge as someone who would fast regularly for a few days but then fall sick from low blood pressure or something of that sort. (me)

he's forced to leave a few of his fasts so that his body can recover. i can imagine him being all pouty, arms crossed, not looking at anyone because he wasn't allowed to fast.

"no inumaki, i'm not going to wake you up for sehri. you won't be fasting tomorrow."

"OKAKA"

oh and sometimes if he uses his cursed speech too much his throat starts bleeding and that automatically causes his fast to b r e a k.

it takes him a while to register what's happening when awoken for sehri.

he and yuta bought a drone and they tried it for the first time on Eid. He vlogged the whole thing for his youtube channel.

2. Maki Zenin

very grumpy while fasting

the type to not talk to you while fasting because it will cause her mouth to dry up.

i dont know why but i imagine her someone who cooks the iftar for everyone. people who complain about the iftar being too less get boinked on the head itadori

she might come off as a cold heartless bitch but i think she can be quite caring and loving to people she cares for.

like in the evening when the iftar is done, she goes around making everyone drink enough water so that they dont get dehydrated. especially inumaki since he's a baby

if someone accidentally misses sehri, she doesn't let them fast the next day because they "might fall sick."

hates it when she herself falls sick or gets her period. her mood becomes tenfold worse.

she doesn't practice much while fasting because yeah... try fasting daily and then try to do anything, forget physical activities.

oh this isnt ramzan related but she takes off her glasses for wudhu, performs her namaz and forgets where she's kept them.

first to wake up on eid. she might not show it but she's excited alright?

she has the best eid outfit and i stand by that.

switches out her glasses for contacts for a day because nobara insisted.

nobara takes lots of her pictures on eid but maki doesnt let her post any

puts her differences aside and wishes mai "eid mubarak" but thats about it.

3. Yuta Okkotsu

the perfect boy squad

wakes everyone for sehri and is very patient with them. isnt he just awesome?

helps out in the kitchen though he might not be very good at it. its the thought that counts

recitation everyday!!

Often he finds himself humming songs (subconsciously) and then he's just "No, No, it's ramzan!!" and then shuts up.

"why do all artists release such good songs during ramzan. this is a hate activity."

has to try everything served for iftar. he'll eat a little of everything.

nanami tells him to eat more because he's more on the lean side and if he doesn't eat enough, he might fall sick like toge.

while fasting, he often gets tired but never shows it.

one day, he was a bit late for sehri. He got immensely nervous and drank too much water. that made him feel super uncomfortable and uneasy. bottomline, he threw up. homie missed a fast smh.

i can just imagine him taking out the seed of his dates before hand. its like a little game he plays with himself. how neatly can you take out the seed of the date without actually splitting it?

not ramzan related but he spends time with megumi just talking. i feel like he and megumi have a very cute brothers relationship and yuta is someone megumi trusts and respects a lot.

they dont want to backbitch but they sit together and complain about how annoying gojo is.

they go to taraweeh together.

he has a canon sister and like megumi, he cooks for her when she's not fasting

i can imagine him totally adorable on eid. his white kurta and a big wide smile SO ADORABLE

he had been saving money for a while to buy a drone. he finally had enough to buy it but toge decided to pitch in last minute and they bought one of a higher quality.

he sometimes makes halal jokes which are stupid but funny. (like these) (on a side note, YAQOOB IS SO CUTE!!!! HE GIVES OFF IMMACULATE YUTA VIBES)

yasha your favouritism is showing-

i need to shut up about him.

4. Nanami Kento

he's the dad abbu

he's very strict during ramzan. no music. no tv. nothing.

has a strict daily routine that he follows. it's not like he's going to sleep in to reduce the fasting pressure and all. if he normally started his day at 7, ramzan would be no different.

very diligently balances prayers and work. like he goes to work everyday but he still has enough to pray and stuff.

27 day taraweeh with megumi and yuta

always has a tasbeeh on him. (reminds me of my nani pls-)

eats the same thing for sehri everyday (this is basically canon so)

throws a mini tantrum when iftar is a bit different. like okay mr grumpy, you havent eaten or drank anything in the past like 16 hours. shut up and eat?

makes sure that gojo doesn't skip his fast. wakes him up drags him out of bed for sehri on time everyday.

one day gojo was chanting la haula wala quwwata and nanami just went "don't repeat it too many times, you'll disappear." [the way i said this to my father and he didnt even understand]

makes sure the kids eat enough during iftar. doesnt want anyone to get sick.

if one of the students fall sick, he makes sure they eat enough and takes their medicines on time. he's so caring i'm melting

he's the type pf person who eats a little bit, drinks some water, performs his maghrib namaz and then eats.

he has to keep gojo in check. confiscates his phone and blocks websites and stuff lol. he doesnt trust gojo and i dont either tbh

helps out in the kitchen!!!!!!

he wont you let you eat till you say grace. it's "ittedekimasu" in japanese right?

severe headaches and stiffness in ramzan but doesn't show it at all. let's nothing come in between him and his fasts.

takes pictures of his iftar everyday for a 30-day day challenge

doesn't get the hype for eid but buys himself an expensive gold sherwani anyways.

EIDI!!!!

gives everyone lots of eidi because he's well paid and wants the children to be happy.

5. Panda

he's a panda

he doesn't fast

he can cry tho

----

@krezin this is for you!

the way i belted this out with zero motivation. plus ramzan's almost over and i wanted to put this out before that. part 3 with the other adults/kyoto gang?

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu stroll #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami kento #maki zenin #inumaki toge #yuta okkotsu #panda #nanami kento hcs #headcanons #yuta okkotsu headcannons #yuta okkotsu x reader #ramzan #muslim #jujutsu kaisen crack

[mediocreauthor]

NANA Week, Day 4: Fireworks @7daysofnana 

They celebrate their first Hanami since Nana left.

​

She will come. She will come, she repeats herself as she puts Nana’s kimono neatly on the bed. She prepared cow meat sukiyaki, she might be hungry, after all. She takes out strawberry glasses Nana gifted her two years ago. It seems like centuries ago, when their relationship was being put to a test. 

When Nana, no, she is Hachi now. 

I am Hachi since Nana named me.

When Hachi thought she was going through the hardest time of her life. But it was okay, it was all okay because Nana, even though not right beside her, was still here. 

She dusts Nana’s guitar; she may want to play it. Maybe she will hand it to Nobu, while she sings with her sultry, magical voice. Just like she did when she climbed on their table, holding a cell phone. When she enchanted her. She glances at Ren, he is fast asleep on the bed. His little face looks angelic. ***

Her entire body is on fire. She is going to die!  She can’t form coherent sentences to describe her pain, it is too late for an epidural, Fujiko-chan says. She wants to clog her. A hand squeezes hers, she can feel the cold metal of Nana’s ring. “You can do this Hachiko. I am right here with you, you can do this.”

She should wonder where the hell Takumi is, but when Nobu’s hand gently rakes through her hair, she can’t even remember his face. Her daughter is coming. She has waited so long for this. Her baby, the one she sacrificed so much for will be here any moment. The hand holding her loosens and she turns her hand in panic. 

“Nana please don’t leave me!” She can’t recognize her own voice, it sounds ragged and hoarse. Her ears buzz. She sees her other half’s beautiful face through tears, Nana looks surprised for a second, Hachi can’t understand why, obviously she can’t do this without her.

But then she cradles her from behind and kisses her sweaty hair. “I am not going anywhere.”

*** She hears a faint knock on the door. Her chests clenches with anticipation, she missed her people.

Your people.

Swinging the door open with a bright smile, Hachi greets Yasu and Miu. They are both in kimonos as she requested. “Welcome, welcome!” her tone is barely above a whisper. “Ren is napping.” Yasu smiles, heading to the room. He really loves Ren so dearly, just like his best friend would. 

“I can’t wait to be an uncle.”

She will not cry today. She will welcome Nana with a big smile. 

Miu asks how she’s been, they dive into an idle chat. She is the only one who asks how Takumi is too. The rest don’t acknowledge his existence, she doesn’t blame them. She herself wants to forget it sometimes. 

“You have prepared so much. We should have come earlier to help.” Miu begins setting up the table. 

“Oh, that’s okay. I went a bit extra for Nana, I want everything to be perfect for her. Just like our first Hanabi.” 

Miu looks at her with an emotion she knows all too well, it’s on Junko’s, Kyosuke’s, Takumi’s face every time she talks about Nana’s return. She pays them no mind, they don’t know Nana. 

“I heard it rained so much that year.” She comments. Hachi giggles and turns her back to Miu, washing tomatoes that Jun gave her. 

“These tomatoes are good. Where did you buy them?”

God, shut the fuck up. 

She spends the rest of time going over minor details, mixes bath salts to create Nana’s favourite smell (it reminds him of Ren), she folds her bedtime clothes, tastes every dish thrice, turns on the ventilator, Nana would appreciate the breeze. Climbing up seven floors does things to your body temperature. 

Nobu and Shin’s arrival wakes Ren up, her son seeks her with his little grabby hands, once again filling her heart with affection. Shin bursts into the room immediately, his face lit up with a smile. Hachi kisses his cheeks, he hugs her tightly. 

“Hello mama. Why did you make my brother cry?”

“I didn’t make him cry! You guys' arrival woke him up.” Hachi pouts but gives Ren to Shin regardless. 

“We are sorry for that.”

Her stomach clenches and she faces Nobu, he looks at her with a sincerity she doesn’t deserve. He coos at Ren, tickling his chin. “Hello little buddy. Sorry we woke you up.” Ren stops crying in favor of chomping on Nobu’s finger.

“He is teething.” Hachi explains. Nobu studies him lovingly. “You're all grown up now, Ren.”

***

“It’s a boy!” Fujiko-chan declares. 

What? She sees her baby’s face covered in blood and something gross, bellowing. A nurse approaches, taking him away. She wants to reach but her arms feel like chunks of metal. 

“No it’s a girl… I really thought he was a girl.” 

Her eyes meet Nobu’s, tears matching one another. “You did it Hachi.” 

Nurse gives her his son, he is heartbreakingly small, but his warmth comforts her. She looks for a sign, a resemblance of Nobu but this little creature weirdly just reminds him of Shin. Nana walks toward the door, panic envelopes her for a second, but she looks back and says “I will let others know.”

Nobu drapes his arm over her shoulder, they stare, baby stares back. His irises are light brown, filled with curiosity. Hachi gently grazes her finger over his cheek and she can swear he smiles but she is probably high on adrenaline. “Welcome, my love.” She takes in a long breath. “I wanted to name him Satsuki. You know, like- like Ren picked. I really wanted to-” A hiccup crawls over her throat. She can feel Nobu’s fingers on her chin, he looks like he’s about to say something, but kisses her instead, almost reverently. 

They seperate, so much unfinished hanging between the short distance. Nobu rests his forehead against hers.

“How about Ren?”

***

They sit down to eat, she would prefer if they waited for Nana but starving her guests doesn’t scream hospitality either. Misato- Mai, damn it- has arrived, she smiles ever so politely at her. 

“These are so delicious, Hachiko-san. You shouldn’t have gone into all this trouble.”

“Abuh!” Ren protests when Yasu confiscates the chopstick he almost stabbed himself in the eye with. 

“Of course I should have! Nana can arrive any moment now.” Her friends look at each other, mentally communicating, eventually Shin sighs and puts his bowl down. 

“Hachi,” he begins. “Nana may not come today.” She immediately understands from the guilty faces that avoid her gaze that they have rehearsed this conversation. She lets rage take over.

“We always celebrate Hanami together, Nana knows this. She will remember.”

“That was before she left Hachi. I don’t think Nana wants to see us right now.” Nobu at least sounds demure. 

“We don’t know where she even is yet.” Miu adds. 

We don’t know if she is alive, is left unsaid.

“She knows where we are! Isn’t it enough?” Her high voice startles Ren, he picks up the tension right away, eyes getting glossy. Yasu gives him his glasses. 

“We just don’t want you to be disappointed wh- if she doesn’t show up.”

 I am not a fucking child. 

��How dare you give up on her?” She knows it’s unfair. She knows that Yasu spent all his life savings on a private investigator. She is aware the police precinct is sick of Mai’s calls. She knows Nobu stops by Ren’s warehouse every morning, hoping his friend would open the door.

 “If you think Nana actually forgot about us and started a new life in god knows where, were you even her friends?” Her tone is filled with disdain, she hates herself. 

They have the nerve to look dejected, Hachi just continues. “She is just healing. She’s been through so much. She needs a break, she will come back.” She glances at her hands, noticing they didn’t have nail polish. “She will come back.” Hachi weakly repeats. 

“Of course she will.” She perks up, Yasu is confidently smiling at her. “Healing takes time. It might be too early for her, this year. But one day, we will be all sitting at this table together. Don’t worry, Nana.” “Guh!” Ren shakes his head as if he knows what Yasu is talking about, maybe he does. 

Maybe it’s Ren who knows.

Shame creeps up on her, “I am sorry.” she murmurs. “I am so sorry. I just… I thought if I believed enough, it would come true.”

Small explosion noises are heard and the light of the fireworks fills the sky. Ren gets antsy on Yasu’s lap and reaches for her. She holds her son, watches how fireworks reflect on his big, astonished eyes. 

She thinks of Nana’s warm smile by the river, how the small firework Hachi was holding illuminated her face, she remembers Ren (as if she ever forgets), showing the word Satsuki proudly.

***

She remembers Nana’s eyes, wandering around the room, unable to focus on anything. Her movements are jittery, her cheeks are hollow- has she lost weight since the last time she saw her? They lay quietly in the dark room. 

“Hachi, do you want to go to the beach?” She is about to drift off to sleep, her voice is muffled by the pillow. It’s the middle of the night. “I can’t leave Ren alone, can we go tomorrow?” 

Nana’s breath hitches. “Sure, tomorrow.” Her voice is so small. Hachi barely hears the last sentence as sleep takes over her. She should have realized. 

“I want to see the sea.”

***

Ren’s little hand wipes her wet cheeks, he licks it in wonder. She quietly sobs, burying herself in his hair. She sees the untouched strawberry glasses from the corner of her eyes, they taunt her.

Next year, she tells herself. 

#osaki nana #komatsu nana #ai yazawa #nana manga #nana week #Terashima Nobu #okazaki shinichi #honjo ren #yasushi takagi #miu shinoda #if this timeline dont match its because i am stupid #dont come for me

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

Fluffy shoni prompt: Toni taking care of a sick Shelby 🥺

Thanks! I love writing for these two :’)

--------

Toni comes home to a dark apartment. The blinds are closed. The lights are off. Even the air seems stiller than usual. She chucks off her shoes, and quietly makes her way to the bedroom, where she finds Shelby, asleep, under a pile of blankets. There’s a mountain of tissues on the bedside table, three dirty mugs, an empty pack of almond cookies, a bowl of half-eaten, congealed oatmeal, a huge bottle of Ibuprofen, and, at the foot of the bed, a pile of the old vintage comics Martha got Toni for her birthday, the very ones Shelby always makes fun of her for liking. Who’s the nerd, now? Toni thinks, with a small smile, as she steps over various discarded items of clothing to get to the bed.

The mess doesn’t surprise her. Contrary to appearances, Shelby isn’t a particularly organized person, and though she makes an effort to keep their shared space clean and orderly, that tends to disappear completely when she gets stressed or, in that case, sick. Toni, on the other hand, is very tidy. When you grow up in foster care, without much to your name, you quickly learn the habits that are least likely to get you in trouble, or to get your stuff confiscated, or stolen. So the first thing Toni does, before even checking on Shelby, is push the mound of tissues into the wastebasket. Then she puts away clothes and comics, and collects mugs and leftovers, bringing them back to the kitchen to deal with later. 

When she comes back into the bedroom, Shelby’s eyes are open, and she looks contrite. “I’m sorry you had to clean all of that,” she croaks out, trying to sit up. Toni takes a seat on the bed, beside her, and gently pushes against her shoulders until Shelby lies back down against the propped pillows. 

“Don’t worry about it.” She brushes blond hair away from Shelby’s sweaty forehead, rubs at the spot between her eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Shelby says, “but I’ll be okay.” She smiles, weakly. Toni bends down to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Has the fever gone down at all?”

“I think so,” Shelby says. She coughs, a bit, then exhales shakily. “I’m definitely a bit less woozy than I was this morning, so that’s nice.”

“Good. I’ll give you a couple more pills with dinner, and hopefully you’ll be fever-less by tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” Shelby frowns. “Toni, I don’t know if I’m up for eating.”

“Well, you have to. You need some energy if you’re gonna beat that nasty flu.” Toni’s voice grows a bit higher, and she adopts the no-nonsense tone of Dot as she says, in a perfect imitation of their friend : “Lots of liquids, lots of rest, and make sure she eats something, that should do the trick.”

“You called Dot?” Shelby reacts, her eyes widening. “Gosh, Toni, you shouldn’t have, now she’s gonna be all worried.”

“Please,” Toni snorts. “I was worried. Dot just listened to me ramble on the phone all panicky for, like, a full minute, before telling me it was”-- she makes quotation marks with her fingers --” just the flu and I needed to get a grip and go buy chicken soup.” She ends the quotation marks. “Which I did, by the way, I stopped by Trader Joe’s on my way from work. Got you some juice too, and even some ice cream - pistachio, your favorite - to help with the sore throat.”

Shelby raises a hand, and touches Toni’s shoulder, fingers trailing down her arm until they circle Toni’s wrist. She gives her a light squeeze. “You were worried?” she asks, and her voice is hoarse, but there’s a smile stretching her lips. “About me?”

Toni rolls her eyes. “Duh! Of course, I was worried. It’s almost like I love you or something.”

But Shelby’s smile doesn’t go away. “It’s sweet,” she murmurs. “You’re so sweet.” Toni’s heart flutters in her chest, a little. They’ve been together for years, but Shelby complimenting her still somehow affects her just like it did in the beginning. It makes her feel alive, and loved, hearing the fondness in Shelby’s voice. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Shelby says, still holding onto Toni’s wrist. Her eyes are bright in the semi-darkness of the room. Toni moves her arm so she can bring the back of Shelby’s hand up, close to her mouth, and she presses a light kiss onto her knuckles.  

“Always, Shelby, you know that.”

Shelby smiles, and opens her mouth, but whatever she was about to say is interrupted by a horrible coughing fit. Toni props her up and rubs her back as she wheezes and hacks and gasps, and her fingers tighten around Toni’s wrist, almost painfully, but Toni doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t make a sound. When it’s over, Shelby rests her forehead against Toni’s shoulder, catching her breath. Toni slips a hand under Shelby’s shirt, presses her palm against Shelby’s spine, hoping the touch will help her calm down. “You’re okay,” she whispers into Shelby’s hair.

“I hate feeling like this,” Shelby groans. 

“I know, I know. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you back in bed, you can rest till dinner.” Slowly, carefully, she moves Shelby back into a lying position, her back against the pillows. Shelby’s eyes open, with some difficulty, and she looks up at Toni. “Will you stay with me?” she asks, voice gravelly. Then she tries to shrug. “Sorry, I know I’m being super needy right now..”

“Babe,” Toni cuts her off, shaking her head. “Of course, I’ll stay with you.” She climbs into bed with Shelby, and curls up on her side, one arm across Shelby’s stomach, and her head resting on Shelby’s chest, under her chin. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend?” Shelby mumbles, sleepily. 

“Hmmm, I think that’s just the fever talking,” Toni jokes, her tone light, and she feels the rumble of Shelby’s laughter against her cheek. Shelby’s hand comes to rest on her waist, pressing them closer together. 

“Go to sleep,” Toni says, low and soft. “I’m here.”

#Anonymous #shoni #the wilds #fic

[aliciameade]

Full Reveal

Title: Full Reveal Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Extra Fun Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Chloe and her [very famous] girlfriend Beca escape into anonymity at a Las Vegas burlesque performance, though the show has other plans for them that stir up some playful feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that beg to be addressed.

Also on AO3

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“Ladies? If you’d follow me?”

“I saw that,” Chloe teases in Beca’s ear, fingertips tickling Beca’s lower back through her sheer black shirt.

Beca’s response is little more than a side-eye and a smirk as she shoos Chloe’s hand away. Chloe takes no offense, of course. They are less than alone as a concierge leads them through a dark, sultry hallway teeming with people in various states of inebriation. Their escort is an attractive blonde wearing a black three-piece suit and stilettos, though she seems to have forgotten to don the shirt beneath the vest to leave ample cleavage on display and Beca hadn’t been very discreet about looking at it.

They’re in Las Vegas for the weekend. Beca is there ostensibly for work—she’s performing tomorrow night at Mandalay Bay—but when she’s not scheduled for soundcheck, press, meet and greets, and the concert itself, the weekend is for the two of them. They’ve sacrificed the privacy and seclusion of the embarrassingly large home they share in Malibu in favor of a weekend of fun. 

They’d sacrificed anonymity years ago when Beca decided, with the support of their friends, to take the leap into becoming a solo artist, leaving behind the frustrating and often unfulfilling career in music production she thought she’d been made for.

It turned out that performing was a lot more fun for her.

The paychecks were also a lot bigger.

And Chloe was by her side for the breakneck launch of Beca’s new career, quietly smiling as she trailed a few steps behind on red carpets, tucked herself into corners of green rooms while Beca entertained VIPs after concerts, and watched her girlfriend present at award shows from backstage monitors.

The general public doesn’t know who Beca is dating, or if she is dating anyone at all. She doesn’t talk about having a current relationship in interviews, just tales of bad ones in her past. There are plenty of rumors and theories, and some people are correct in their hypothesis that the friend often accompanying Beca to parties or seen grabbing coffee or grocery shopping with is more than just a friend.

It’s a privacy thing for Beca. She is out and proud, finally, and she had decided she didn’t owe the public more of her than she was already giving them. Chloe respected that decision; she waited so long for Beca, she probably would have agreed to the wildest of terms if it meant finally being in a relationship with the woman. But simply keeping their relationship status away from the public wasn’t a big ask. Their friends and family knew. Beca’s team knew. But the public was left to its own conjecture.

It helped that part of why Beca didn’t want to share that part of her life with the public was because she wanted to protect it.

It was really damn romantic for Chloe.

It’s also fun. It’s like they have alter egos and tonight they are attending the midnight performance of Luxury X Lace in a small cabaret venue in the depths of a massive casino as nothing more than two friends having a girls’ night out in the city that never sleeps. It was the hottest ticket in a town full of hot tickets, an X-rated burlesque that confiscated cell phones at the door in exchange for your choice of black, silver, or gold masquerade masks to help strip patrons of their identity and inhibitions and immerse them into a world of high-end debauchery.

Beca’s publicist had made a phone call and Beca and her good friend Chloe were invited to the Friday night performance. Phones were exchanged for masks—black for Beca and silver for Chloe—to be led into the cabaret hall.

It’s far more intimate than Chloe had expected. There are a dozen tables arranged around the X-shaped stage and three lines of booths curving around the wall behind the tables. The stage is empty save for a single black chair positioned at the center of it. Music pulses around them.

They are shown to the center booth on the first level, something Chloe suspects is likely the choice seat in the venue. She’s been with Beca long enough to recognize plenty of such perks.

She prefers other types of perks that come with being with Beca, though. Like the way Beca’s hand immediately comes to rest on Chloe’s bare knee just below the hem of Chloe’s gray pleated skirt. Chloe smiles to herself and peruses the themed cocktail menu, content with their proximity and connection. She knows there will be more tonight once they are back in the privacy of their suite at the Mandalay.

“What are you thinking?”

Chloe lets herself smirk, knowing Beca will see it and read exactly what Chloe was thinking, though she knows that wasn’t what Beca was asking. “I think I’m going to try this one, the ‘Satin Sheets,’” she says, tapping on the menu before rotating it so Beca can choose as well.

She watches other patrons arrive to be shown to their tables, the air of excitement growing around them as scantily clad waitresses start to weave their way from table to table collecting drink orders. They spend time flirting with everyone and Chloe notices the way they don’t hesitate to offer a friendly touch to their customer: a playful nudge of a shoulder, fingers through the short hair of the men, winks, and close examinations of manicures or rings on the women.

When a blonde arrives at their table, Chloe thinks that perhaps they will be exempt from this flirtation. Their seating in the booth is not conducive to a waitress sidling up next to someone as can be done at a table and chairs on an open floor, but to compensate, the waitress simply slides into the booth next to Chloe and offers a well-practiced sultry smile.

“Hello, ladies. My name is Jasmine, and I’ll be sure you’re well taken care of tonight.”

Chloe thinks Jasmine might recognize Beca, even with the mask. There’s a bit of a hesitation in the way her eyes linger on Beca. Or maybe she’s just appreciating Beca’s eyes and lips and jawline the same way Chloe does. Or maybe she’s just working on a good tip. But Chloe knows they are in the high roller seat and it wouldn’t take much for the waitress to connect the dots. And that means she and Beca need to be best friends. Not girlfriends.

“Hi, Jasmine,” Chloe offers and can’t help her smile when the attractive woman leans in to slowly wrap a lock of her red hair around a finger.

“I love this color,” Jasmine purrs and even though Chloe knows exactly what the waitress is doing, her own natural inclination to flirt responds.

“It’s natural,” she purrs right back, leaning into her space. She can feel Beca’s blunt fingernails press into her knee before her hand disappears. That is another perk to their secret romance: getting to experience Beca’s possessiveness. It rivals her own for Beca.

“Can you prove it?” The waitress lets her eyes drop unabashedly to Chloe’s lap before they’re back on her eyes.

“Yes, she can.” 

Chloe sees the amusement on Jasmine’s face at Beca’s interjection and the waitress backs off, interpreting Beca’s answer as asserting her dominance.

Beca asserting her dominance is nothing new. She’s been good at that since she was in college. Taking control of situations. Putting people in their place. Making people listen to what she has to say.

She asserts it everywhere but in the bedroom that she shares with Chloe.

Jasmine is unfazed by Beca, even if she does stop touching Chloe. Her demeanor is still dark and flirtatious and she redirects her attention to Beca. “Mmm, I love your voice.”

Chloe’s sure Jasmine knows now. In fact, it’s entirely possible that every employee of the production knows that Beca Mitchell is their special guest this evening. That is often the case if they attend some type of event when Beca insists she makes the calls to get the best seats and the backstage access and whatever else she thinks Chloe should have.

Chloe’s attention shifts to Beca and her reaction, but she’s well-versed in this act as well. Chloe’s bared witness to Beca emerging from her cocoon of early adulthood and her wavering confidence and awkwardness. Chloe knows Beca can charm her way into anyone’s pants nowadays, with or without the game.

She charms her way into Chloe’s on a regular basis.

“Then you’d love how it sounds moaning your name. Jasmine, was it?” Beca’s voice drips over the waitress’s name and Chloe feels her own thighs clench at her tone.

Chloe tries to mask her reaction—arousal and amusement—by adjusting the way her hair sits over her shoulders. She knows this is a game for them. It’s hot to watch Beca flirt with other women knowing it’s Chloe’s skirt that her hand will be up on the way home. So many people wanting her girlfriend but her girlfriend only wants her.

God, she can’t wait to get back to their room tonight.

“She’s going to have the Satin Sheets,” Beca continues, ordering Chloe’s drink for her. “And I’ll take the...Pillow Princess,” she concludes.

Chloe’s no fool. She knows why Beca chose that one; she knew she would the moment Chloe saw it on the menu.

Maybe Chloe really, really likes it when Beca uses her tongue. And maybe Beca likes using it just as much. Chloe’s not ashamed one bit that she asks for it with the frequency that she does.

“A perfect combination,” Jasmine says, reaching across the table just to graze her fingers over Beca’s knuckles. Working extra hard earning the big tip from the celebrity table. “I’ll be right back.” Her exit is as practiced and graceful as her appearance was and Chloe feels Beca’s hand back on her knee, maybe an inch or so higher than it was before.

“You’re such a flirt,” Beca says with a sly smile. She knows the game, well, too.

“Well, she has great tits,” Chloe answers with a shrug, playing along with their evening of Gal Pals.

That manages to ruffle Beca's feathers the tiniest bit, and she knew it would. Cleavage is something Beca definitely excels at and it’s on display tonight thanks to the black push-up bra she’s wearing beneath her sleeveless sheer black top. Chloe had unbuttoned it almost completely while they were in the elevator, leaving only the last three buttons remaining fastened. It created a wonderful peek-a-boo effect, sometimes revealing bare skin, sometimes not, and she’d given in to the temptation to press her lips to the swell of Beca’s right breast before the doors had opened. She can still see the faint imprint of her lipstick on it when the light catches it.

Beca narrows her eyes and pointedly brushes one side of her open blouse aside as a reminder of her own assets—as if Chloe could ever forget—and Chloe lets her eyes roam over the expanse of skin, tongue wetting her lips with obvious want.

That seems to rectify the situation. The corners of Beca’s mouth twitch and Chloe has to bite her lip at the way Beca’s fingers suddenly sweep up her inner thigh to graze between her legs before her hands are both above the table to accept the drinks their waitress has already returned with.

“Enjoy,” Jasmine says with a wink before departing once more.

“Mmm, we will,” Chloe says as she takes hers in her hand. “Shall we toast?”

Beca nods and lifts her glass as well. “To what?”

“To seeing where the night takes us.”

Beca’s mouth pulls into the attractive smirk Chloe fell in love with so many years ago. “What happens in Vegas…” she says and taps her glass to Chloe’s.

They drink together as the lights dim until the room is in near darkness. Under the safety of the shadows, Beca presses herself closer, her fingers moving absently but sweetly over and along Chloe’s knee and thigh. Not progressing. Just touching. Chloe lets her arm slip over Beca’s shoulders, something that is more conspicuous, but the only people who know who Beca is are those focused on putting on a show. 

A single spotlight hits the chair center stage and a figure emerges from the darkness behind it, dark hair, long legs, sparkling lingerie, platform stilettos.

They watch the performance in silence. It’s a mixture of blatant sex appeal and tongue-in-cheek humor, the performers—mostly women but a few men—each having their own unique talents and schticks, an androgynous emcee by the name of Angel guiding the audience through the evening.

Angel is funny and personable as they flirt with patrons and performers alike, cracking one-liners between performances.

Chloe watches as several performers make their way out of the wings and onto the stage until the X is occupied by eight women in matching sparkling red lace lingerie, a ninth waiting at the center wearing a black leather bustier, thigh-high boots, and holding a riding crop.

Her appearance earns a particularly boisterous round of cheers from the audience and Chloe has to admit that the woman is the most attractive person on stage, all legs and tits and long, purposely mussed blond hair.

Beca’s fingers have stopped wandering. Instead, they’re tapping along to the beat of the music. She finds rhythms woven and hidden in the instrumentals that Chloe would never hear if not for Beca’s keen ear. The soundtrack for the evening largely consists of remixes of popular songs. They’re recognizable but without the vocals, not distracting.

“And now, ladies, gentlemen, neither, both, and those yet-to-decide,” Angel says with a dramatic flourish as they slowly turn in place as if addressing each person individually, “Scarlet needs a victim—I mean, a volunteer.” 

A murmur of excitement rolls through the audience and Chloe thinks she feels Angel’s attention land squarely on their table. She can’t be sure due to the lighting; it’s possible they’re eyeing everyone in the room to increase the tension. Chloe can feel it in the way the initial excitement is now silent other than the thumping bass of a remix of a remix of a song Chloe can’t quite put her finger on in her pleasantly inebriated, slightly distracted state.

Beca seems to recognize the song, the tapping on Chloe’s knee shifting to one of confidence. It registers with her just as she senses Beca turning as if to whisper something in her ear but Chloe beats her to it.

“Hey, this is your—” is all she gets out before a lace-clad woman is taking Beca’s hand to invite her out of the booth. 

“It seems we have a volunteer!” Angel initiates an encouraging round of applause from the audience.

Chloe watches with equal parts amusement and trepidation as her very famous and very secret girlfriend is led—willingly, she notices—down through the tables and toward the stage while a version of one of Beca’s biggest hits thumps and swirls around the room. She wonders if Beca knew this was going to happen for as ready as she was to slide out of the booth to be taken to the stage where Chloe watches her climb the three steps.

“I didn’t tell you to sit,” Scarlet chastises as soon as Beca moves to sit on the chair in the center of the stage.

It makes Beca laugh and stand up straight, hands clasped in front of her.

“You didn’t even let me give you a proper welcome,” the new host says with a shake of her head and Chloe can tell she’s looking Beca up and down appreciatively.

“Sorry.” Chloe can’t really hear Beca; she doesn’t have a microphone as Scarlet does, but she sees it on her lips.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Scarlet scoffs toward the audience, causing laughter to bubble up from the tables. “Now, what should I call you?” She extends the microphone to Beca who hesitates before speaking.

The premise of the club is anonymity to allow everyone to indulge in their dark desires, but she still answers, “Beca.”

It makes Chloe’s heart stop. She knows it will take people a matter of seconds before they figure it out. She might be wearing a mask, but with her song playing and saying her name, there’s no hiding exactly who has been selected for the main event. She’s grateful that cell phones were confiscated upon arrival. If they hadn’t, she knows this would be broadcast on Instagram Live. The excitement in the room is palpable as the audience puts the pieces together.

“Beca? Everyone, let’s give Beca a warm welcome.”

The applause is not a polite smattering this time. It’s boisterous and full of whistles and shouts and Chloe just sits forward to prop her chin on her clasped hands. This wasn’t how she expected their night to go.

“Okay, Beca,” Scarlet says, her stance so casual despite her costume, “would you like to sit down?”

Beca moves to sit and yelps when Scarlet makes quick work of the riding crop. It was so quick Chloe didn’t even see it but she’d clearly used it to stop Beca from taking a seat.

“I didn’t tell you to sit. I asked if you would like to sit.” Scarlet shakes her head as she says it and the audience laughs, fully engaged in watching pop star Beca Mitchell get womanhandled. “You see, Beca, I’m the one in charge here.”

And womanhandled she gets. Scarlet’s hand, the one not holding her microphone, is on the back of Beca’s neck and wandering across her shoulders and into her hair in a way that makes Beca visibly shiver. It also makes Chloe clench her jaw.

“I know you’re a woman who holds a lot of power, but something tells me you like to give up control now and then. Am I right?”

There are teasing whistles when Beca laughs and says, “Yeah,” into the microphone.

“I think you mean, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca repeats.

“Good. Obedient,” Scarlet praises, starting to circle Beca slowly though still managing to not stop touching her. “So you’re going to listen to me, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl. Now sit.” A hand in the center of Beca’s chest pushes her down into the chair. It makes the audience whistle again.

Beca makes eye contact with Chloe once Scarlet is out of the way and flashes a smile and the small hand gesture they came up with shortly after they began dating, something they could do inconspicuously to let the other know, ‘The situation is okay, not to worry, I love you.’ They use it on red carpets, at press junkets, interviews, and appearances. Chloe was always so worried Beca was being pressured into sharing more than she wanted to or getting upset that people would confront Beca about dating rumors on national television. It was a good solution and one that has grown to have a deeper meaning for them both as time has passed.

It helps Chloe relax. It means Beca’s fine. That she did, in fact, probably agree to this in advance when she made the arrangements to attend. Chloe sits back in her seat though is no less attentive to how Scarlet is touching Beca. 

It’s fifteen minutes of amusement and agony for Chloe as she watches Scarlet entertain the audience by catching Beca misbehaving, taking action before being given permission to do so, or forgetting to say, “Yes, ma’am.” It’s particularly painful when Scarlet’s stiletto thigh-high boot gets planted on the seat of the chair right between Beca’s thighs. She’s instructed to kiss it and Chloe watches with rapt attention as Beca hesitates before doing so, kissing Scarlet’s knee.

Chloe doesn’t like it, not one bit. But she does enjoy it, which is more than a little confusing. The one thing she is sure of is that she wants the show to end so they can go back to their room where Chloe can show Beca just how much she enjoyed her performance.

It’s fifteen minutes of Beca being ordered to her knees, to lie down, to stand up, to answer questions, sometimes messing up and getting swatted across her ass with Scarlet’s riding crop. It’s entertaining for everyone, Beca included who is smiling most of the time, except when she’s ordered to wipe it off her face. Everyone is entertained by the sexy blond dominatrix making sexual innuendos with Chloe’s girlfriend, touching her, spanking her, making her laugh, and assuredly blush as the crowd gets way more than they paid for. Not just a night at Luxury X Lace but fifteen minutes of Beca Mitchell, whose concert tickets top out in the $500 range for premium seats, being sexually teased and willingly degraded.

By the time it’s over and Beca’s sliding back into their booth, Chloe has to check to see if her own fingernails have made her palms bleed from clenching her fists so hard.

“Was that fun?” she asks, making no effort to hide her irritation from her voice.

It doesn’t seem to bother Beca, though, who ignores the question and leans in to kiss Chloe. It’s hard and demanding and not something they should be doing in public and Beca’s hand returning to her thigh under the edge of her skirt makes Chloe forget why she was annoyed in the first place.

“Everything okay?” Beca asks when they part after a few more seconds.

“Um,” Chloe feels dazed, “yeah. Um...people?” She reminds tilting her head toward the rest of the seating area.

Beca just smiles and slides her hand higher up Chloe’s skirt. “No one’s watching us.”

It makes Chloe grab Beca’s hand to stop it and turn to look around. Beca’s right. The show is continuing and even though Beca’s cover is blown, their privacy in the booth remains in-tact. The audience is more interested in the mostly naked women and men on stage, not what the celebrity is getting up to with her secret girlfriend at the burlesque show.

“Oh, my God,” Chloe breathes. She can’t believe she’s agreeing to what Beca so immediately suggested upon her return. But something about what she watched did things to her. Turned her on. Made her want to remind Beca who was really the one in charge, and their name isn’t Scarlet. She nods and kisses Beca again while releasing Beca’s hand to let her do what she wants.

Beca’s smooth about it. They’ve had years to memorize perfect angles, perfect rhythms, and Chloe hates (and kind of loves) that Beca pulls back from their kiss to watch Chloe’s masked face respond to her fingers moving up and slipping beneath her lace thong.

Beca’s smile is annoying and Chloe knows exactly what she’s thinking: Chloe is way too wet for two minutes of kissing. She’s been enjoying the show. Specifically, Beca’s role in it.

“Fuck,” she quietly laughs, pressing a quick kiss to Beca’s lips before turning her attention back to the performance. She knows they could probably get away with a lot more than Beca’s hand up her skirt, but that’s what makes it fun. The game. Will they get caught? Will the world finally know who Beca’s talented, multi-million-dollar mouth is making come nearly every night?

She feels Beca settle comfortably next to her, one hand lifting her drink to her lips, the other pressing two fingers into Chloe to start fucking her slowly. Chloe hates that she knows Beca’s intentions: if she hadn’t done that, if she’d just kept her fingers teasing Chloe’s clit, she’d be coming in a matter of a few minutes.

But she won’t now, not like this. Not with Beca fucking her almost leisurely, a slow pace that reaches as deep as the angle allows. She hikes up her left knee to prop her foot against the leg of the table and open herself wider. It doesn’t make Beca move any more quickly, but it does help her push deeper.

It makes Chloe’s head tilt back to rest against the booth. She doesn’t need to watch the performance. No one cares. No one’s watching them. The music is loud and Angel is narrating and people are applauding and Chloe lets herself moan.

She slips her arm behind Beca’s shoulders to keep her close, playing with her hair to make her shiver as Scarlet had. But it’s Chloe whom Beca is fucking in public. Not Scarlet. The thought makes her fingers twist and they tug maybe a little too hard on Beca’s hair because she hears her gasp in her ear.

Chloe wonders how long Beca will torture her. She’s so turned on but Beca’s not driving her any closer to her climax. It’s a prolonged plateau and Chloe starts to feel that it’s less about getting her off and more about Beca wanting to do something risque when people know who she is.

It’s not the first time; they’ve snuck off to bathrooms and coat check rooms many times over the years for quick fun, but Beca has never been this bold.

She clenches around Beca’s fingers and feels them curl inside her. She thinks it might encourage Beca to speed up but instead, she pulls out completely.

It makes Chloe’s head snap up, ready to complain about the loss only to open her eyes to Beca sucking on her fingers before she’s clapping enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience and dropping a trio of hundred-dollar bills on the table to tip their waitress.

The show is over and Chloe has no idea how it ended. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is how much she needs to come and how quickly they can get back to their hotel.

People are still clapping when their escort upon arrival appears. “Ladies? Let’s get you out before the mass exodus.”

Beca finishes off her drink and scoots out of the booth, reaching back for a slow-to-move Chloe to take her hand and help her. Chloe isn’t drunk, far from it in fact. But she’s so aroused she’s not thinking very clearly and smiles her appreciation as Beca helps her out and to her feet.

Her mind clears a bit as they walk, though she can feel how wet and swollen Beca’s made her with every step she takes. She’s grateful for the early exit; Beca no longer being anonymous means she is fair game to anyone who can get to her. They’re led not the way they entered but through a side door that drops them right next to the desk where they’d checked in. Phones returned but masks retained, they turn to make their way out of the casino.

“What were you thinking?” Chloe asks as they walk with notable speed through the maze of slot machines following signs pointing toward the exit.

Beca’s smile is really more than a smirk. “Are you complaining?”

Chloe doesn’t really have an answer to that. She’s not complaining. Maybe some notice about being the featured guest would have been nice, but she doesn’t want to talk about celebrity life and privacy right now.

Right now, she needs Beca to finish what she started.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. Then, driven by need and adrenaline and the fact that word has probably not yet spread that Beca Mitchell is in that particular casino and they still have their masks, she pulls Beca aside and up against the side of a bank of slot machines to kiss her.

She wants to do it right there. She wants to tell Beca to kneel like she did for Scarlet and put her head under her skirt and make her scream in front of everyone.

Instead, she kisses Beca hard, tongue and teeth and hands on her ass until it’s Beca who moans this time.

Chloe pulls away abruptly just as Beca had when the show ended and it’s her turn to smirk at how disoriented and aroused Beca looks. “Come on,” she says as she takes her hand and pulls them toward the path to the exit once again.

It takes longer than it should to get back to the Mandalay Bay. If they could manage to make it more than two blocks without someone being pushed against a wall, a planter, or a vending machine to make out, it would only be a fifteen-minute walk.

Instead, they’re finally in the elevator forty-five minutes later behaving themselves because there are three other people riding up with them. They both know they’ll be the last ones off; Beca’s suite is on one of the uppermost floors. It makes Chloe tingle with anticipation because she knows it’s going to be a competition of who does what first as soon as they are alone.

It’s Chloe who wins. The last person steps off and before the doors are even closed, she has Beca against the rear wall of the elevator, tongue in her mouth and hands up her shirt and under her bra. They have six floors to go which is only a matter of seconds but it’s long enough to make Beca say, “God, I need you,” when it ends and the doors open.

They’ve had their share of rushing down hotel hallways to lock themselves in increasingly upscale rooms to ravage one another and this time is no different. It’s a choreographed dance at this point. Chloe’s the one who has the key out and ready because Beca usually can’t find hers or can’t focus long enough to insert it.

Chloe’s able to unlock it by touch at this point because so often she has Beca pressed up against the door, sometimes kissing her, sometimes breathing hotly in her ear while her hand wanders to indecent places. With a quick click, the door swings open and they spill into the palatial suite. It’s a dance as well, removing shoes while careful not to trip over each other or furniture or bags as Beca pulls her mask off and tosses it aside, followed by Chloe’s before she’s pulling Chloe down onto the oversized couch in the center of the room.

“Can’t even wait ‘til we get to bed?” Chloe asks with a smiling kiss before she moves back so she can unbutton Beca’s jeans.

“Whatever,” Beca says. She arches her back and reaches under herself and Chloe watches her strip away her bra, pulling it out through her shirt.

“I was getting to that. No, leave it,” Chloe adds when Beca starts to unbutton the sheer top. It leaves nothing to the imagination, but seeing Beca without her bra, perfect curves and stiff nipples Chloe knows she’ll have her mouth on soon enough… 

Beca stops what she’s doing and instead lifts her hips to help Chloe peel her jeans and underwear away.

“You were trying to make me jealous,” Chloe says matter-of-factly as she yanks the tight jeans from Beca’s feet with a little more force than is necessary.

Beca’s holding herself up on her elbows and she looks entirely too proud of herself. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you let everyone know who you were.” Chloe’s hands start making their way up Beca’s bare legs, parting them to make room so she can back up and lie down between them. She settles Beca’s knees over her shoulders to kiss her inner thigh. It makes Beca shiver and sends hands down to tangle in Chloe’s hair. “And I can’t believe you fucked me.” Another kiss, higher, to make Beca’s breathing quicken. “Anyone could have caught us. Think of the headlines: ‘Beca Mitchell caught red-handed...knuckles deep in her best friend’s sopping pussy.’”

She can tell Beca wants to laugh but it comes out as a moan of impatience instead. Tired of waiting herself, Chloe shifts higher to tease her tongue against Beca’s clit.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Beca groans, pulling hair and lifting her hips as if she’s the one who had been left needing more at the show. Her impatience means Chloe’s done a good job turning the tables on her little stunt.

“Did you like that woman spanking you?” Chloe knows she’s toeing a line. They both might be, but she was jealous. And she is turned on.

Beca’s hesitation is telling and she finally nods when Chloe licks her again. “Yeah.”

“Did you like her telling you what to do?”

The answer is immediate this time. “Yes. Fuck, Chlo, please.” She lifts her hips again wanting more of what Chloe is withholding.

Chloe’s going to come back to the conversation. For now, she has needs and she needs to make Beca come. She’s never been able to resist her long, not when she begs her in that voice, not when she pulls Chloe’s face between her legs pleading Chloe to fuck her.

She’s not going to torture her the way Beca did. She has a second need which is to make Beca finish what she started, but she will deal with one thing at a time.

Beca is wet under her tongue and Chloe wraps her arms around her thighs to hold her, one hand gripping her thigh, the other parting Beca to be able to lick exactly where she knows Beca likes it. Fast. Focused. Exactly what it takes for Beca to— 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come already, I hate you.” She moans as she says it and Chloe can taste the way she’s starting to unravel.

It makes her smile. Beca doesn’t hate her. Not one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact, and Chloe takes pride that it still annoys Beca that Chloe can get her off so quickly. And it’s not that she’s annoyed that Chloe’s good, it’s that she doesn’t want it to end.

(Though rarely does it end after just one orgasm from Beca.)

She savors Beca’s voice in her ears and taste on her tongue and eases her down from her quick, surprisingly intense climax.

Though maybe not so surprising when she thinks about how desperate Beca had been after her little game of Scarlet Says. Which reminds her…

“Get up.” She says it with an edge to her voice as she sits up and moves back from between Beca’s legs.

It’s clear Beca’s startled by the sudden mood change and her eyes are wide as she stares down her half-naked body, chest still heaving as she’s not yet recovered. “Dude, what the fuck?” she bites. She’s not just startled, she’s incensed by Chloe ripping away from her the way she did. It’s not normal behavior by any means.

It’s precarious; Chloe knows it. She’s springing some kind of role-play on Beca without talking about it first and she’s ready to drop it if Beca pushes back again. She levels her gaze to look directly at Beca. “I told you to get up.”

There’s the slightest twitch to Beca’s lips and Chloe knows she’s realized what’s happening. With a nod, she sits up and somewhat tiredly pushes herself up to her feet and turns around to face Chloe.

Chloe eyes her as she gets herself situated on the couch, turning to sit properly and makes a bit of a show of crossing her legs primly. She’s still fully clothed unlike her girlfriend waiting for directions wearing nothing but her half-unbuttoned sheer blouse that stops at her hips.

“I didn’t realize you like being told what to do so much,” Chloe says airly. She wants to keep Beca unsteady. They’ve played with power dynamics in the bedroom before, of course. After this long, there’s not much they haven’t tried. But they had never pushed it to the point of commands and obedience. “I guess I’m not that surprised,” she continues, smiling at memories of how Beca had reacted to simple requests in the bedroom in the past. She hadn’t explored it further. There wasn’t a need to; someone usually came minutes later. Now she understands why.

Beca takes a breath like she’s about to speak but instead snaps her jaw closed.

It makes Chloe’s eyebrows lift. She hadn’t had to do much of anything and Beca has already fallen into her role, primed, no doubt, by the events at the burlesque show.

“Did you like that woman touching you?” she asks. When Beca doesn’t answer, she has to work not to smile. “You can answer me when I ask you a question.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that,” Beca answers. “I thought they were just going to ask me questions and give me a lap dance or something.”

Chloe finds it endearing the way Beca’s trying to defend herself. Chloe’s not upset about it; a hair bothered, maybe, but nothing worth getting mad about. Possessive, though...it’s definitely worth reminding Beca who’s been in her bed every night. “That isn’t what I asked,” Chloe says as she leans back casually. “I asked if you liked it when that woman touched you.”

She can see Beca trying to choose the right words, which is amusingly telling. “It was...fun,” is what she decides to answer.

Chloe looks at her in surprise. “Fun? I’ll show you fun. On your knees.” She snaps and points at the floor as she says it and watches as Beca sinks to kneel obediently on the plush carpet. It’s thrilling to watch and does more for her than she thought it would. “Come here,” she continues with a crook of her finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca says as she shuffles forward until she’s as close as she can be, Chloe’s right leg crossed over the left stopping her from getting any closer. 

Her response is spine-tingling. Chloe wants to draw this out; she wants to see just how obedient Beca can be, but her patience is thin after being so aroused for so long with no release. She can save that for another day. “Would you like to know what I want you to do?” She teases Beca’s bare stomach with her toe as she says it.

“I bet you’re about to tell me,” Beca says as she squirms a little; she’s ticklish there and Chloe knows it.

“Sassy.”

Beca shrugs.

“Let’s give your mouth something better to do.” She uncrosses her legs as she says it and enjoys the way Beca’s eyes fall automatically to look, though Chloe knows she can’t see anything. Not with her skirt resting how it is. “You ruined my underwear at the show. The least you could do is take them off me.”

She can see the way Beca’s eyelashes flutter; she’s excited and ready as she reaches for Chloe, hands sliding up her thighs to hook her fingers into the waistband of Chloe’s thong to pull it down. She lifts her hips to let it slip out from under her and watches Beca pull it the rest of the way down her legs until she’s tossing it over her shoulder with more confidence than someone ordered to her knees ought to have, but Chloe doesn’t mind. Not when Beca’s hands almost reach for Chloe’s thighs again but stops herself and they fall back to her own naked lap.

“So patient,” Chloe smiles. Beca giving up control like this is turning Chloe on far more than she had expected and she knows she isn’t going to last very long. She parts her knees and hikes up her skirt. Not too much. Just enough that Beca will be able to see how much she needs her. “But I’m not.”

Beca’s eyes snap up to meet Chloe’s and she can see the excitement in them, the desire to please Chloe in more ways than one.

“I want you to make me come”—she pauses to glance at her non-existent watch—“in less than five minutes.” When Beca doesn’t move, she adds, “The clock is ticking.”

She can tell Beca is amused by the challenge, even excited by it as her hands do what they had probably meant to do after stripping Chloe of her underwear: land on Chloe’s knees to part them before they slide higher, pushing Chloe’s skirt with them.

Chloe leans back, relaxing into the couch as she spreads her legs wider until she decides to bring her right foot up to rest on the edge of the couch, knee fully bent, holding her ankle to keep it there. It opens her up splendidly and she watches with rapt attention as Beca shifts closer, tongue already at her lips as she leans down.

Chloe can’t help the moan that comes with the first touch of Beca’s tongue. She’s been waiting for it for hours, really since they left the hotel to attend the show. 

Beca seems to take her directive seriously if the way she’s using her tongue is anything to judge by. She’s lapping at Chloe in exactly the way Chloe likes it the most: messy and lewd, her arousal audible in the way her clit slips from Beca’s lips when she sucks on it. She likes it because Beca’s so passionate about making her feel good, and her passion only makes Chloe want it more.

She weaves the fingers of her free hand through Beca’s soft hair, watching as Beca fucks her perfectly. “Just like that,” she sighs as she lets her hips start rocking. “Use your fingers, too, baby.”

They both groan as Beca sinks two fingers into her and she clenches around them. As soon as she relaxes, Beca is fucking her, hard, and it makes her gasp. She hadn’t been ready for that, forgetting for a moment about her self-imposed deadline.

“Beca, fuck,” she moans, ass coming off the couch from the sudden onslaught of pleasure and she watches as Beca ducks her shoulder under the leg Chloe isn’t holding so she can tuck herself even closer. Her fingers twist in Beca’s hair and it might be too tight but it doesn’t seem to bother her. “So good,” she says and feels Beca’s tongue flicking at her clit impossibly faster. “You’re so good,” she repeats and feels her fingers speed up, too.

She knows Beca likes being praised. It’s served them both very well in the past and it’s serving Chloe impeccably well right now. Beca moans at the comment and glances up at Chloe through dark eyelashes, eyes meeting before she closes them to lose herself in fucking Chloe.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with the way Beca starts sucking on her clit and doesn’t let up. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she moans again, grateful for the massive room offering plenty of insulation from the prying ears of the only other room on that floor. “You’re gonna make me come, Beca.”

Beca groans in response and doesn’t change a thing; her pace is relentless and Chloe can feel how hot her body is under her leg from working so hard and she’s so, so grateful for her hard work as her orgasm crashes through her.

Beca’s moaning through it with her and it makes Chloe drop the pretense. She wants Beca. Now. Her cunt is still pulsing around Beca’s fingers when she pulls her up by her hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get the point.

“Come here,” she breathes, pulling Beca in to kiss her wet mouth as she drops her leg back to hang over the edge of the couch and make room for Beca to climb into her lap, straddling her on her knees.

Beca’s hand hasn’t left her with the change in position and though she has less room to move, she’s still working her fingers against Chloe’s overstimulated clit as Chloe reaches between Beca’s legs to slide her fingers into her soaked cunt.

The way Beca moans into Chloe’s mouth through their heated kiss is sinful but not as sinful as the way she immediately starts riding Chloe’s hand. Her hand tangles in Chloe’s hair as her hips roll and grind, all restraint gone as she chases her orgasm.

She’s so far gone that she’s not paying close attention to how hard she’s touching Chloe. It’s borderline painful for a few seconds until something in Chloe clicks and the force becomes delicious and somehow not enough. She grinds the heel of her hand up into Beca, slipping a third finger into her with how wet she’s become, dripping into Chloe’s palm and Chloe knows she’s just as wet. She’s thankful she’s sitting on her skirt. She’d rather pay to dry clean it than reupholster the hotel couch.

“Fuck,” Beca whimpers against Chloe’s lips before her hips suddenly change from riding Chloe’s fingers hard to riding them fast.

Chloe can feel how close she is with the way she’s starting to tremble around her fingers. Beca’s fighting it and she doesn’t know why until she thinks maybe Beca hasn’t dropped the pretense like Chloe had.

She’s waiting for permission.

The concept quickly spools Chloe’s orgasm into a coil ready to spring at any second and she has to fight it, too.

This is hot. This is really hot. She loves when Beca is wild and desperate and there are no other words to describe her right now.

Chloe pulls back from the kiss. “Do you want to come?”

Beca’s jaw drops at the words and Chloe feels her clench hard but the climax doesn’t follow as it normally would. “God, yes,” she exhales after a few seconds. Beca is still fucking them both. Riding Chloe’s fingers. Rubbing Chloe’s clit.

Chloe’s free hand catches Beca’s chin and lifts her head to make eye contact with her. “Ask me nicely.”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt Beca as wet as she is tonight and it doesn’t stop. She thinks she can even feel it increase as soon as she says those words.

“Please,” Beca whines immediately. “Please let me come for you.” She holds Chloe’s stare as she says it and she tightens around Chloe’s fingers again.

Chloe hesitates with her answer. The moment is so intense, so erotic she’s not quite ready to end it. They’re existing on another plane of sex than most of their nights. She hopes it continues through the night.

“Not yet,” she finally answers and Beca almost sobs at the response. “Stand up,” she demands, lifting with the hand between Beca’s legs until Beca’s moving.

“What…?” Beca starts, only to say, “Oh, my God,” when Chloe guides Beca’s left knee up and past her head to rest on the back of the couch.

Chloe pulls her forward with the fingers inside her until she has Beca’s clit against her tongue. Beca’s hands immediately fall to Chloe’s head for balance as she rocks her hips forward into Chloe’s face.

It’s Chloe’s turn to be brutal with the pace of her fingers, fucking up and into Beca as she lets Beca ride her tongue. She knows Beca’s orgasm is going to be massive when she lets her have it and Chloe wants her coming in her mouth.

The change in position bought them a few minutes, distracting Beca long enough that she’s not about to lose it any second but Chloe knows it’s barreling down on her again. “You taste so good,” she says between licks.

Beca moans in answer and Chloe feels the wetness increase again. She can hear it, too. It’s obscene. It sends her other hand between her own legs to pick up where Beca left off.

“I’m going to make myself come,” she says before sucking pointedly on Beca’s clit. “Don’t you dare come with me.”

“What?” Beca laughs somewhat desperately. “Fuck, okay.”

The obedience makes Chloe moan and she fucks herself, rubbing hard circles into her clit. She embellishes her moans to make it even harder for Beca to resist until she’s moaning again and again into Beca’s pussy, coming as Beca clenches around her wantonly. 

She looks up at Beca when it passes but she can’t see her face, not with how Beca’s leaning forward, eyes squeezed closed, face determined and desperate to obey as Chloe comes without her, still fucking her, not letting her let go.

“That felt so good,” she says. “You turn me on so much, Beca.”

“Yeah, same,” Beca answers quickly.

“I think after I let you come…” she says it thoughtfully even as she lavishes attention on Beca’s impossibly swollen clit, “I’m going to take you to bed,” she gives it a long suck, “bend you over,” she curls her fingers and massages them into the spot that makes Beca’s eyes roll back, “and fuck you so hard you’ll feel it at your show tomorrow,” Beca’s entire body is trembling with the need for release, “in front of twelve thousand people and you’ll remember the way you’re going to be such a good girl for me and take my strap all night.”

She knows Beca’s losing her grip on her orgasm. Chloe can feel it starting, pulsing around her fingers and she thinks she might need it as much as Beca does.

“Come for me, Beca,” she says and immediately slides her tongue into her as she withdraws her fingers, using them instead to stroke her clit. She can see Beca’s wetness and how it’s all the way to Chloe’s wrist and she groans as the way Beca’s cunt contracts so hard around her tongue she couldn’t remove it even if she wanted to.

‘Massive’ isn’t the term for it.

Beca’s orgasm is earth-shattering and Chloe’s free hand has to shoot up to press against her chest to keep her from toppling forward and over the back of the couch as it rocks her again and again, voice ringing in Chloe’s ears.

Chloe feels Beca’s knees buckling as it passes and she catches her as she folds until she’s sitting in Chloe’s lap again, slumped against her forehead-to-forehead. Both of them are breathless but Beca’s far more winded and Chloe gives her a chance to recover, hands moving slowly and gently over her back, to her hair which she lifts away from her neck to help her cool down. Her blouse sticks to her skin and she feels kind of bad she didn’t let Beca take it off before, but she hasn’t complained about it.

“Fuck,” Beca finally says with a weak laugh as she lifts her head and sits back enough that they can look at each other comfortably, her hands toying with the hem of Chloe’s shirt, still on despite it all. “What the fuck, Chlo?” She smiles as she says it. She brings her hand up to wipe at Chloe’s face. “You’re a mess.”

Chloe smiles in return and lets Beca clean her off. “Problem?”

Beca cocks her head to the side and huffs again, not quite a laugh. “Uh, no. But can you take this off now? You’re overdressed.” She tugs at Chloe’s shirt and Chloe lets her remove it, lifting her arms so she can slip it over her head.

“Better?” she asks, even though she knows it’s definitely better. Her body is on fire and the cool air is a godsend.

“Much,” Beca says as she tosses Chloe’s shirt aside to rest her hands on her bare shoulders.

“So,” Chloe starts after a few comfortable seconds of silence, hands wandering around Beca’s ass to her waist where she finally finishes unbuttoning Beca’s shirt. “Still think it was fun to be touched by that other woman?” She cocks an eyebrow as she says it.

She knows Beca knows she is the one in control of what happens next; they both know what will happen depending on her answer. One answer will send them to the bedroom and Beca onto all-fours. The other will send them to the shower to clean up while they wait for room service to bring them something to eat.

Beca rakes her hands through her own wild hair after she lets Chloe flip her shirt over her shoulders and off to leave her fully naked in Chloe’s lap. Her eyes are still dark, as are her well-kissed lips which start to curve into a smile. “Yeah, I had a great time. I wonder if she’s free. Maybe we could invite her to join us?”

“Fuck you,” Chloe laughs before kissing her. “Hold on,” she mumbles against her lips and feels Beca wrap her arms around Chloe’s neck and her legs around her waist so she can stand to carry Beca to the bedroom.

“Make me feel it tomorrow,” Beca whispers before kissing her as they cross the threshold into the bedroom.

Chloe drops her onto the bed with a smile. “You will. Turn around.”

The End

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #fanfic #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #it's smut #surprise!

[the-delta-42]

New Car

New Car

Marinette couldn’t help grinning as her parents guided her outside. She could hear the excited chatter from her friends. She had a feeling that the thing her parents were guiding her too was a car, but she couldn’t be certain.

“Are you’re eyes closed?” Asked her father, making Marinette laugh.

“Papa, you’re literally covering my eyes.” Teased Marinette, provoking a laugh from her mother.

“Well, you remember that car you were so enamoured with?” Asked her mother, making Marinette frown.

“You mean the red one that was bought by someone else the day after I saw it?” Responded Marinette, it was a red, beat-up hatch-back that had seen better days, but Marinette had loved it. Ever since she passed her driving test, she’d looking at cars. Her parents had made it clear that they thought her motorcycle wasn’t safe enough for them. Said bike had been totalled after Kim took it for a joyride and was still being fixed.

“Well, we may have known more about it that you thought.” Said her father, removing his hands, allowing to Marinette to see in front of her.

A red, beat-up hatch-back that had clearly seen better days. It was the car Marinette had fallen in love with after seeing it, only it had been cleaned, fixed up and given a fresh coat of paint. Marinette numbly approached the car looked inside it. The interior was the same, dark grey seats, with a matching carpet, the dashboard was the same colour. Marinette suddenly grinned, before sprinting to her parents and hugging them.

“Thank you.” Said Marinette, her voice muffled by her father’s shirt, before she took the key he held out for her.

“It looks tacky.” Came Chloe’s voice, scrolling on her phone.

“Chloe, not everyone can afford the latest Lamborghini or Ferrari.” Said Adrien, looking in the car, before gasping, “There are cup holders!”

Everyone looked at Adrien.

“I’m guessing that fancy sports car your dad got you doesn’t have them.” Said Nino, frowning at Adrien.

“It did, but then he had them removed because he ‘didn’t want me making a mess of myself or the car’.” Said Adrien, looking at the back seats, “There are only two doors.”

Marinette gently pushed Adrien to the side and unlocked the door, swinging it open, she leaned over the seat and pulled it forwards, allowing access for someone to sit in the back seat.

“Oooh.” Said Adrien, leaning forwards.

“Yeah, ooh.” Said Alya, leaning against the bonnet, “I call first ride.”

Adrien, Nino and Kim protested, but Alya just smirked and sat in the passenger seat, waiting for Marinette to get in and start driving.

“Sorry.” Said Marinette, before getting in the car and driving off.

“Did my girlfriend just steal your girlfriend?” Asked Nino, making Adrien shrug.

NC

Marinette returned an hour later, grinning, with Alya laughing about something. The rest of the day passed without incident, except when Marinette’s car alarm went off, because a dog had taken a leak against it.

Marinette was curled up in her bed when she heard what sounded like a car driving off, with a groan, she pulled a pillow over her head and went back to sleep.

The next morning, when Marinette went downstairs, she found a police officer sitting in the living room. Her parents looked nervous, while the officer just looked tired.

“Good morning?” Said Marinette, looking around.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng?” Asked the Officer, getting a nod from Marinette, “I’m afraid we picked up a car thief last night, we found him driving a red Honda Civic, we pursued him on foot, but when we went back for the car, we found he’d placed an incendiary device in the vehicle.”

Marinette’s face fell, already dreading what the officer was going to say.

“The car was deemed unsalvageable, but” Said the Officer, making Marinette look up, “we managed to clear it with our superiors, and we’ll be sending one of the cars confiscated from the thief’s parking lot.”

Marinette numbly nodded, before heading back to her room. She’d sent a text, telling Alya about the incident and, after getting dressed, decided to design some clothes until she felt better. Alya and some of Marinette’s other classmates turned up, offering condolences over Marinette’s, now destroyed, car.

Around three in the afternoon, Marinette heard a truck stop outside the bakery. Kim looked out the window and did a double take.

“No way!” Gasped Kim, getting Marinette and some of the other to go over to him, “Marinette, they brought a Dodge.”

Marinette looked out the window and nearly choked on her drink, as the tow truck unhooked a red Dodge Challenger with a pair of, what Marinette assumed were, buffalo horn on the end of the bonnet. Marinette rushed downstairs, skidding to a stop when she reached the ground floor.

“Normally, we wouldn’t give her a muscle car, but it was the only one that was, 1. Fit to be on the road and, 2. Didn’t have anything wrong with it.”

Her mother turned around and spotted her standing at the bottom of the stairs, “Marinette, we were just about to call you.”

Marinette went to the window and looked at the car, “Is that it?”

“Yeah, it’s the only one we can’t find a problem with.” Said the Officer, holding the key out for Marinette to take.

Numbly, Marinette took the key and the officer left. Marinette exited the bakery and looked at the car, there were a few dents in it, but other than that, it looked to be in working order. Grinning, Marinette got in the car and started up the engine, quickly putting on her seat belt, Marinette drove off.

NC

Chloe let out an inhuman screech at the sight of Marinette’s new car, “Where’d you get that?”

“My car got stolen and wrecked, this was the only one that didn’t have a problem with it.” Shrugged Marinette, locking her car up.

Adrien grinned at the car, as Chloe stormed off in a huff, “Okay, I’ll admit it, your car is cooler than mine.”

Marinette looked at the dark grey Lamborghini that Adrien’s father bought after he passed his driving test. For some reason, Marinette felt something was off about the car.

“How long be-” Adrien was cut off by screaming.

“How does he work so fast?” Asked Marinette, as she and Adrien ran off to find a place to transform.

Within minutes, Ladybug and Chat Noir had subdued the Akuma, Chloe, and had purified the Akuma. Ladybug cast Miraculous Ladybug, as the ladybugs flew across the city, a red muscle car suddenly was brought back online.

The car silently observed his surroundings, before a young woman with pigtails approached him, “That’s got to be a new record.”

“What, five minutes?” Asked a blond-haired man, “I’m pretty sure Mr. Pigeon was under a minute.”

“I still can’t believe she got akumatized over a car.” Said the woman, unlocking the cars door.

“Marinette,” Said the blond-haired man, “You know Chloe, she’ll get akumatized over anything.”

Marinette sighed, and slumped against the car, “Still, Adrien, it’s starting to get old, either she should be sectioned or go to counselling.”

“Knowing Chloe,” Said Adrien, as Marinette got into the car, “She’ll probably get them to say she’s in perfect health.”

Marinette snorted, as she closed the car door.

NC

A giant, white and orange robot grumbled at a monitor screen.

“What is it, Ratchet?” Asked a bigger red and blue robot, his voice a deep baritone.

“Optimus, Cliffjumpers’ signal has just come back online,” Said Ratchet, glaring at the screen, “Again.”

“Once due to the presence of Dark Energon.” Said Optimus narrowing his optics at the screen.

“Yes, but unlike last time,” Said Ratchet, staring at the screen, “it’s not corrupted, if anything, it’s in perfect condition.”

“Where is it located?” Asked Optimus, looking down at Ratchet.

“Paris, France.” Said Ratchet, looking at the screen, “Didn’t Agent Fowler say something about ‘superheroes’ there?”

Optimus was silent, just before he heard multiple engines rolling into the base. A blue motorcycle, yellow muscle car and a green 4x4 drove into the main area of the base. With them were three humans, at the other entrance to the main area, two more robots, one white and blue, the other white, green and red walked in.

“’Jackie!” Yelled a giant green robot, after transforming from the 4x4. The yellow muscle car and the motorcycle following suit, turning into a yellow robot and a blue and silver female robot, respectively.

“Hey, Bulk.” Greeted the red, white and green robot, before turning his attention to Ratchet, “The Doc just said something about a ‘bots signal coming back online.”

“Cliffjumpers’ signal has come back online, again.” Huffed Ratchet, checking the programs software, “However, unlike last time, it’s in peak condition.”

“Think it might be a ‘con trick?” Asked the female robot, placing a hand on her hip.

“I doubt it, Arcee,” Said Ratchet, as the three human’s stood close to his work station, “Since we last saw Cliffjumpers’ remains being welded back together by MECH, it is possible they may have done what, frankly, seems impossible.”

“We saw them using energon to power his t-cog,” Said a short boy, with wild brown hair and glasses, “they could’ve transformed him.”

“And when they couldn’t control him,” Said a tall, young man with black hair and blue/silver eyes, “They just pawned his vehicle mode off to a collector.”

“Where’s the signal coming from?” Asked Arcee, her optics narrowing.

“Paris, France.” Said Ratchet, making all the human go still.

“Wait,” Said a young woman, with gold/amber eyes and pigtails and a braid, “you mean one of the cities with actual superheroes?”

The two males just stared at Ratchet in surprise.

“Yes, Miko,” Sighed Ratchet, focussing on the screen, “one of the cities with actual ‘superheroes’.”

“Doesn’t Ladybug have a sort-of healing power?” Asked the tall male, getting surprised looks from the bots.

“What was that Jack?” Asked Arcee, looking at her charge.

“Yeah, Ladybug can literally fix a destroyed city!” Exclaimed Miko, slinging an arm around Jack’s shoulders, “There’s a video of her fixing Paris after it was entirely flattened during an Akuma attack!”

The Autobots all stared at them.

“Rafael, translation if you please.” Said Ratchet, after a couple of moments.

“There’s someone in Paris that can turn people into monsters, by using their victims emotions.” Said the short boy, Raf, “The first akuma was called Stoneheart and the heroes were thirteen when Hawkmoth first appeared.”

There was the tell-tale sign of the Autobot’s optics flickering that showed they were using the internet. Arcee frowned and looked impressed.

“Yeah, each time they meet Hawkmoth in person,” Said Miko, getting the bots attention, “they keep gaining ground on him and he always runs off.”

“Then why haven’t they beaten him yet?” Asked Bulkhead, getting a sigh from Miko.

“A few years back they had a team,” Said Miko, looking down, “a pretty big team, until they were betrayed by one of the team members that had outed their identity to the public.”

“After that, the Akumas got worse and, eventually,” Said Jack, shrugging, “Ladybug and her partner build a new team, hand picking the individuals, and if anyone of them pulled the same stunt as Bourgeois, instant memory wipe.”

“Which made taking tests a whole lot harder.” Joked Miko, getting a snort from Jack.

“So, this Ladybug can literally fix anything?” Asked Ratchet, getting the humans’ attention.

“Yeah, as long as she knows enough about it and how much need to be fixed.” Said Jack, as Ratchet had a thoughtful look on his face.

“No.” Said Optimus, before Ratchet could even voice his opinion, “I’ve seen the footage of her restoring the city, if she were to do the same with Cybertron, she would most certainly perish.”

Ratchet’s shoulders slumped.

“School has a trip to Paris planned next month,” Said Jack, making the bots look at him, “We all signed up for it, if Cliffjumpers’ signal is still there by then, we can all check it out.”

Optimus frowned, before nodding.

NC

Miko and Jack shared a suffering look, the tour of the Agreste fashion company was duller than when the principle giving a speech. The woman showing them around had the same attitude as she was barely pointing things out as they passed them.

“And if you look to your left, you’ll see all the models posing naked to emulate ancient Greece.” Said the woman, Marinette.

Jack and Miko didn’t both looking, but the groan from Vince told them it wasn’t what Marinette said it was.

“If any of you looked, you would now know that it just the fabric dying department.” Said Marinette, looking back at them, “It also tells me which ones of you should be observed.”

There was a louder groan from everyone else.

“Now, here’s the fun areas of the business,” Said Marinette, as the tour group walked into a large open room, “This is where we model clothes, cars and any other random crap that can be modelled.”

A blond-haired man, reclining on the bonnet of a sports car immediately perked up, “Marinette!”

In a matter of seconds, the man had picked Marinette up, kissed her, spun her around and stared at her as if she was the only thing in the universe.

“Adrien, working.” Said Marinette, getting the man to put her down.

“That’s the Tsurugi LX-10 Model.” Said Jack, getting everyone to look at him.

“You’re familiar?” Asked Adrien, looking at Jack.

“I know that they’re illegal in the States because of the number of times previous models had to be recalled.” Said Jack, before scowling, “Not to mention the number of people that died after their cars crushed them against a wall.”

“Well, this model doesn’t have the self-driving gimmick,” Said Adrien, frowning at the car, “but it does have a feature called incognito mode.”

“Which is?” Asked Marinette, as the car turned from silver to black.

“That.” Said Adrien, folding his arms, “Madam Tsurugi had it designed for the police, but then she put it on the common market and now, they’re facing a metric fuck ton of lawsuits.”

“Then why are you modelling it?” Asked Miko, making Adrien smirk.

“I wasn’t,” Said Adrien, folding his arms, “I was taking a nap.”

A screwed-up ball of paper hit the back of Adrien’s head.

“Work now, flirt with your girlfriend later.” Yelled a photographer, while a red-haired, dark skinned journalist laughed.

Adrien grinned, before charging at them, soon all three were on the floor with Adrien squeezing them.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng, what’s going on?” Asked a cold voice.

“Alya’s here for the interview, Adrien was catching up on his sleep and I’m showing the tour group around.” Said Marinette, turning to face a tall, white haired man.

The man looked at the car and then to Adrien greeting the journalist and her camera man.

“And, no, nothing out of the ordinary happened.” Said Marinette, as the man frowned.

“I believe I told Rossi to show them around.” Said the man, looking at Marinette.

“She didn’t show this morning.” Said Marinette, pulling out her phone, “She didn’t respond to any of the messages I sent her, either.”

“This is the fifth day running?” Asked the man, making Marinette nod, “Notify the Police, she might’ve had another accident, seeing how she became prone to them after the incident.”

Marinette nodded and put her phone away, “I contacted the police after I was told she didn’t turn up, I also called Tsurugi Motors, told them the car wouldn’t start and I’ve heard nothing since.”

“What wrong with it?” Asked Jack, getting a look from Marinette and, presumably, her boss.

“It won’t start.” Said Marinette, as she walked over to the car.

“Does it make any strange noises when you try to start it?” Asked Jack, following her.

“It clicks.” Said Marinette, before Jack frowned.

“Vince, come here.” Said Jack, leaning inside the car and pulling the latch from the bonnet.

Vince came without question, lifting it up and looking inside.

“Found the problem.” Said Vince, as Jack joined him, “There’s no engine.”

Everyone looked inside the car and saw an empty compartment. Jack then went to the back of the car, checking the rear end for an engine, “It’s back here.”

“It looks like it’s been scooped out and dumped back here.” Said Vince, as Jack rolled up his sleeves.

“Help me lift this out,” Said Jack, as Vince took the side opposite to Jack, “on three. One. Two. Three.”

Carefully and with great effort, Jack and Vince lifted the Engine out and placed it on the floor. As they were straightening up, both froze at the sight of a small, blinking device.

“We should leave.” Said Jack, his tone leaving no room for argument, “Now.”

Marinette and her boss joined them and saw the bomb.

“Sound the alarm.” Said the boss, while Marinette went over to the PA system, saying something about a ‘code silver’.

Half-an-hour later, the tour group and the employees were standing on the other side of the park away from the building.

“Maybe it’s defective.” Said Raf, just as the building shook and collapsed knocking everyone to the ground and producing a massive dust cloud, “Or not.”

“It was delayed by 30 minutes.” coughed Jack, standing up and looking at where the building had been, “If we hadn’t spotted it, then we would’ve been near the top floors.”

Everyone sat on the sidewalk as Ambulances arrived, the ones closest to the explosion were being treated, while masks to deal with the dust and other debris were passed around.

“Still like explosions Miko?” Asked Jack, as Miko was having a cut on her head examined.

The Japanese girl groaned in response to Jack’s question. Jack felt a twinge of sympathy for her, before he saw Marinette approaching a red car with bull horns on the hood. Jack watched as she sat in the drivers’ seat, before resting her head against the steering wheel.

“That, is a nice car.” Said Vince, staring at the car.

“It looks like a Dodge Challenger.” Said One of Vince’s friends.

Marinette suddenly turned her head towards the teens, before getting out of the car and walking towards them.

“I should’ve checked earlier, but are any of you hurt?” Asked Marinette, just as a silver Aston Martin pulled up.

“Miko hit her head when we all fell.” Said Jack, as a young Japanese woman got out of the Aston Martin and rushed towards them.

“Marinette,” Yelled the woman, as she came close to them, “I heard there’d been an explosion.”

“Someone placed a bomb in the back of one of your mothers’ cars.” Said Marinette, turning to face the woman, “It was actually one of the visiting students who discovered it.”

Marinette paused, before looking at Jack, “Speaking of, how did you know what a bomb looks like?”

Jack suddenly felt uncomfortable, “Movies.”

Marinette frowned, but didn’t say anything, “Apparently, the only one hurt was Miko.” Marinette pointed towards the Japanese teen, who still had a paramedic looking at her head wound.

The woman looked at Miko, before turning back to face Marinette, “The Police will probably be along shortly, I’ll see you later.”

Marinette nodded, before turning back to the students, “So, how’re you finding Paris?”

NC

After everyone had been collected and taken back to the hotel and the employee sent home, Marinette opened the door to her shared apartment, she could hear Kagami and Adrien talking in the kitchen.

“I can hardly smell the pesticides.” Said Marinette, in lieu of announcing her presence.

“Yeah, and the rats are gone as well.” Said Adrien, poking his head out, “How’d everything go?”

“If you mean by everything, having to deal with insulting phone calls from the Tsurugi’s, as well as having to deal with the Police,” Said Marinette, slipping her shoes off, “it went great.”

“What’s my mother threatened to do now?” Asked Kagami, seasoning the food.

“She didn’t threaten to do anything,” Replied Marinette, dropping onto the sofa, “She just used the entire call to hurl insults at me.”

Kagami blew air through her teeth.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” Said Marinette, before the sound of glass shattering made her look towards the window. She approached the window and looked outside, just in time to see Adrien’s Lamborghini race down the street.

“Adrien, your car’s jut been stolen.” Said Marinette, looking out the window.

“I’ve been thinking of getting a new car anyway.” Said Adrien, as he finished setting the table.

As if on cue, a motorcycle, 4x4 and two sports cars peeled down the street.

“Fucking kids.” Said Marinette, closing the curtains.

NC

Arcee drew close of Lockdown, half-transforming so she could shoot at him without falling behind, Bumblebee and Smokescreen started to head the bounty hunter off, before he transformed and dove through a billboard. The Autobots all came to a stop, Arcee scowling at the hole left behind by Lockdown.

Arcee collapsed back into her vehicle mode and started to head back to where they found Lockdown. A red Dodge Challenger with bull horns sat waiting for them, Arcee considered kicking Cliffjumper, just to get a reaction from him.

Cliffjumper prevented her from following through, transforming and stretching his arms out, “You’ll not believe the month I’ve had.”

Arcee transformed and glared at him.

“I suddenly feel like I’ve got a few seconds to live.” Said Cliffjumper, before Arcee tackled him.

Arcee kept hitting him, until a torch shone on them, making the Femme turn in the direction of the light.

Cliffjumper froze at the sight of Marinette, behind her were her sparkmates, at least he thought they were her sparkmates, all three just staring at the sight in front of him.

“Akuma?” Asked Adrien, cocking his head.

“Nope, they haven’t started yelling yet.” Said Marinette, approaching them, “Where the fuck has my car gone?”

Cliffjumper pushed Arcee off him, before collapsing into the familiar, red Dodge Challenger with bullhorns on the end of the hood, that Marinette had been driving for the past month.

Marinette just let out a long-suffering sigh, “Just my fucking luck.”

NC

Ratchet watched as the Autobots all drove into base via the ground bridge. Optimus frowned at the sight of Cliffjumper, then at the sight of three humans climbing out of him. The red Autobot transformed and looked up at Optimus.

“There’s a really funny story here.” Said Cliffjumper, before a purse hit his side.

Cliffjumper looked down at Marinette, before wincing and looking back at Optimus. Optimus nodded and Cliffjumper crouched down and looked in Marinette’s eye.

“Hey, kid.” Said Cliffjumper, as Marinette glared at him, “You’re probably wanting an explanation.”

“Probably?” Groused Marinette, her glare intensifying, “I just found out my car, which I got after someone stole and torched my actual car, is some giant robot, gundam thing.”

Adrien brightened up.

“Actually, I’m not a gundamn thing,” Said Cliffjumper, making Marinette frown, “I’m an Autobot, my name is Cliffjumper.”

“An Auto-what-now?” Asked Marinette, as the horned bot sighed.

“If I may,” Said Optimus, making Marinette look up at him, “I believe proper introductions are in order. My name is Optimus Prime, we are Autonomous Robotic Organisms from the Planet Cybertron.”

“Ah, aliens.” Said Marinette, folding her arms and frowning.

“This,” Said Optimus, gesturing to Ratchet, “is our medical Officer, Ratchet,” he then gestured to the four Autobots behind Cliffjumper, “You have already met Arcee, Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Smokescreen.”

Marinette looked at the four of them, before her eyes widened, “Hold on, weren’t you the jokers that followed the guy that stole Adrien’s car?”

“Actually,” Said Arcee, folding her arms, “that was another one of our kind, his name’s Lockdown.”

“Lockdown?!” Gasped Ratchet, getting looks from the rest of the team, “Here?!”

“Adrien’s car, was a robot?” Asked Marinette, folding her arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“And not a good one.” Said Arcee, before spotting Tikki poking her head out of Marinette’s pocket, “What’s that?”

Marinette withdrew Tikki from her pocket, making Optimus frown.

“Honoured, Creator.” Greeted Optimus, making Marinette look down at the Kwami.

“‘Honoured Creator’?” Asked Marinette, getting a sheepish look from Tikki.

NC

Marinette scowled at Cliffjumper’s dashboard, as the Autobot played around with his radio. Marinette had taken the whole reveal of an alien race hiding on Earth, what she didn’t take well was Cliffjumper outing her and Adrien’s identities to the other Autobots, namely after Tikki had been spotted.

“Can you please stop that?” Asked Marinette, as Cliffjumper jumped from a station playing classic rock to one playing Bulgarian shriek metal.

“Sorry.” Apologised Cliffjumper, as Marinette got out.

“Don’t drive off anywhere, I won’t be able to explain to anyone why my car is out driving itself.” Said Marinette, before closing the door.

Adrien looked at Marinette, before going back to watching the Agreste legal team and Tsurugi legal team yelling at each other.

“Father’s trying to pin the bomb on the Tsurugi’s.” Said Adrien, just as one legal aid picked up a chair and threw it, “I don’t know why people watch wrestling, we’re seeing the same thing, but we didn’t pay for anything.”

“How’d your dad take your car being ‘stolen’?” Asked Marinette, making Adrien wince.

“He thinks Madam Tsurugi’s behind it.” Replied Adrien, “Kagami’s consented for her car to be searched, in case there’s anything that’s been placed in it.”

“You know, I actually thought the person who’d have the problem with our relationship would be your father.” Said Marinette, folding her arms.

“He did, until I said that your skill, and potential, would be under the Agreste name.” Said Adrien, shrugging, “He became silent after that.”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with Nathalie falling pregnant.” Said Marinette, making Adrien snort.

There was the sound of glass breaking, as one of the legal aids was sent through the window. Marinette didn’t even blink as she pulled out her phone and called the police, while Adrien looked at his phone, grinning when he saw it was still recording.

Down in the car park, Cliffjumper watched as a silver Aston Martin pulled up and Kagami step out. Giving Cliffjumper a subtle wave, Kagami headed straight for the elevator, leaving the Autobot with the car. There was the sound of grinding metal as Cliffjumper transformed and crouched down next to the car.

“What are you?” Whispered Cliffjumper, changing the angle for which he looked at the car.

Cliffjumper froze, there was an insignia that was hidden in the front wheel arch. The winged Autobot symbol of the Elite Guard.

“Optimus.” Said Cliffjumper, contacting the Autobot Base.

“Optimus is otherwise occupied, Cliffjumper, what do you need?” Came Ratchet’s voice.

“There’s a car here with Elite Guard Markings, are you picking anything up on your scanners?” Relayed Cliffjumper, waiting for Ratchet to respond.

“I’m not detecting any- wait, I’ve just focused on your immediate area, there’s one Autobot signal in the vicinity, there’s no name associated to it, but it’s definitely there.” Said Ratchet, just as Cliffjumper heard the lift ring. The red Autobot collapsed into his Dodge Challenger alt, waiting for the person to leave.

A brunette with hair tails that resembled sausages stood in front of Cliffjumper.

“So,” Said the girl, her voice oily and demanding, “You’re the pile of crap that Dupain-Cheng got.”

Cliffjumper decided he didn’t like this girl, she reminded him too much of Starscream. The girl rummaged around her bag, before pulling out a can of spray paint.

“Let’s see how she likes this.” Smirked the girl, shaking the can.

Cliffjumper immediately honked his horn and set off his alarm, before revving his engine and advancing towards the girl. She dropped the can and fell backward before scrambling away from the vehicle.

A security guard appeared from around the corner and spotted the red Dodge Challenger blaring it’s alarm, with one of Gabriel Agreste’s models, Lila something, screaming at it.

“What the hell is going on?” Demanded the security guard, before asking Ms. Dupain-Cheng down to silence her car.

“I-I was walking past it and it started driving at me!” Cried Lila, as the guard frowned.

Marinette arrived and silenced the car.

“Your car isn’t one of those self-driving types, is it?” Asked the guard, getting a confused look from Marinette.

“Are you kidding?” Asked Marinette, frowning, “I got this after my last car was totalled after some meth head stole it.”

“Ms. Rossi says it drove at her.” Said the Guard, as Marinette took a step forwards and slipped on something.

“What the hell?” Said Marinette, picking up a can of black spray paint, “I don’t suppose you were going to be painting anything, Lila?”

Lila stuttered out some excuse, while Marinette gave the can to the guard and went back up to the design office.

“What happened?” Asked Adrien, his glasses rest on his head.

“Lila was scared by Cliff.” Said Marinette, frowning at one of the designs.

Adrien nodded, before looking back at the computer, “What was I thinking when I asked my father to teach me how to run a business?”

NC

Marinette and Adrien climbed out of Cliffjumper, while Kagami drove her car after them. Ratchet shooed them towards the seating area, all three spotting three of the children that were on the field trip.

“You know, I’m not even surprised.” Said Marinette, dropping into one of the chairs.

Miko rushed towards Ratchet and Cliffjumper, her eyes zeroing on Cliffjumper.

“Who are you?” Asked Miko, as Wheeljack and Smokescreen entered the main area.

“Name’s Cliffjumper, I heard a lot about you and your friends from the others.” Said Cliffjumper, just as Ratchet jumped backwards when the Autobot transformed. Everyone froze when his head rolled off.

“Oh no.” Said Raf, approaching from behind Miko.

“Oh no what?” Asked Cliffjumper, picking up the Autobot’s head.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Asked Jack, looking at the Autobots.

“Nah, this is Cogman,” Said Cliffjumper, gesturing to the Autobot, “He’s a Headmaster, meaning his he can detach and transform into a smaller bot.”

Cliffjumper held the head in place, as Ratchet started to insert energon into Cogman’s body. There was silence, then Cogman lurched and grabbed Ratchet and Cliffjumper and threw them into Bulkhead.

There was a grinding sound and Cogman dragged a broadsword from his back, stumbling around the base.

“Wha, when, where am I?” Demanded Cogman, his optics flickering.

“You’re in our base, Cogman.” Said Optimus, advancing towards the clearly wounded Headmaster, “My name is Optimus Prime.”

“Optimus, leader, commander,” Muttered Cogman, looking around, “I, damaged, Lockdown, Lord Bur-, Hot Rod.”

With those final words, Cogman lost consciousness and collapsed, his head rolling off once more.

The Autobots and humans all stared at the fallen Transformer.

“I’ll prepare an energon feed.” Said Ratchet, just as the proximity alarm went off.

“Really? Now?” Grumbled Ratchet, as the elevator opened.

“Prime, what’s this I hear about your ‘bots tearing up Paris?” Demanded Fowler, before catching sight of Marinette, Adrien and Kagami, “Again?!”

Marinette stared at the man, before Cliffjumper coughed.

“You!” Yelled Fowler, “I thought you were dead!”

“It’s a long story.” Said Cliffjumper, as Bumblebee and Bulkhead helped move Cogman.

NC

Lockdown was seething, he’d spent months hunting down Cogman, finding him in Stasis Lock in the possession of some human insect, then a dead Autobot showed up, followed by Team Prime. Lockdown had made the deal with the human, Agreste, in the hopes of rounding up the rest of the Knights, hiding as Agreste’s son’s car, dealing with the humiliation of that boy driving him, spilling liquids inside him. Megatron had instructed him to find something called a Miraculous, and after seeing what it could do first hand, he could see why. If such small objects could fix a destroyed city, restore hundreds, if not thousands, of lives and bring back a dead Autobot, what could they do to Cybertron?

Lockdown transformed and stalked towards Agreste’s window, breaking it and waking the human up.

“Your child has friends,” Snarled Lockdown, glaring at the human, “of the Autobot variety.”

NC

Hot Rod aimlessly drove around the dark streets of Paris, Sir Edmund Burton had instructed him to come to the city before he was killed by Lockdown. Hot Rod hadn’t seen Cogman since that day, but maintained radio silence until he reappeared on his scanners.

A swirling green vortex opened up in front of him, making the disguised Autobot skid to a halt. He recognised the sight of a space bridge, despite the power levels being significantly lower that what was required for interstellar travel.

A tall, red and blue figure walked out of the bridge. Hot Rod transformed and stared up at Optimus.

“Prime?” Asked Hot Rod, not believing his optics.

“Hello, Hot Rod.” Said Optimus, turning back, gesturing the bot to follow.

“H-how long have you been on the planet?” Asked Hot Rod, as he followed Optimus through the bridge.

The ground bridge closed behind him, leaving a seething Lockdown hidden in the shadows, Gabriel Agreste secured tightly in his seat.

NC

Fowler watched as the French Autobot spoke with Bumblebee and Arcee, while the British one was being checked over by Ratchet. Fowler’s phone went off, making the agent turn away from the Bots.

“Fowler here.” Said Fowler, frowning.

“Bill,” Said General Bryce, his tone grave, “I suggest you look at the French News.”

Fowler frowned, “Why?”

“You’ll understand when you see it.” Said Bryce, before hanging up.

Fowler walked over to the TV, unplugged the game the kids were playing, getting a protest from Miko, and turned it over to the French news channel.

And would’ve spat out his coffee if he’d remember to pick it up.

“Prime, you’re going to want to see this.” Called Fowler, getting the Autobot leaders’ attention.

Optimus made his way over, his optics barely concealing the shock he felt. Megatron and the Decepticons were attacking Paris. Optimus didn’t bother to translate what the newscaster was saying, only frowned and turned to Ratchet.

“Ratchet, activate the ground bridge.” Commanded Optimus, before looking at his team, “Autobots, prepare to roll out.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Said Jack, looking at the Autobot’s Leader, “What happened to Robots in Disguise?”

“Take a look, Jack,” Said Arcee, gesturing to the screen, “Megatron’s just blown that cover away for us.”

“No, what I mean is, what is Megatron hoping to gain?” Reiterated Jack, looking around the team.

“There’s nothing in Paris that would interest them.” Said Fowler, looking at the Autobots, before Marinette fiddled with her earrings.

“How much do you think Lockdown learned before his cover was blown?” Asked Marinette, looking at the floor.

The Autobots froze, “He’s after the jewels.” Said Optimus, frowning.

“What those magical pieces of Jewellery?” Asked Fowler, before scowling, “I can have what heroes we have to locate them, and their owners or wielder or whatever.”

“That will not be necessary, Agent Fowler.” Said Optimus, looking at the agent, “They are already safe.”

“How can you be sure?” Demanded Fowler, as Marinette removed something from her pocket.

“Because they’re already here.” Said Marinette, removing the earrings, making them return to their usual red and black spotted appearance.

Fowler froze, as Optimus and the Autobots prepared to depart.

“If Megatron knows what they can do, he no doubts plans on using them to restore Cybertron.” Said Optimus, getting a snort from Ratchet.

“And, no doubt, ridding himself of his Dark Energon poisoning.” Snarked Ratchet, before revealing a scan of Megatron, “I took this scan back when we were dealing with Unicron, Megatron had at most, three Earth decades left before he becomes one of those mindless beasts he loves controlling.”

Optimus stared at the scan, “Ratchet, if we were to wound him enough, would Megatron become a ‘mindless beast’?”

“It’d have to be extensive, like,” Said Ratchet, frowning, “the spark extractor or beating him into a pile scrap with the Forge of Solus Prime.”

“What about Plagg?” Asked Adrien, as the small, black Kwami snored in his hand.

The Autobots stared at the embodiment of destruction, as he burped and grumbled about needing cheese.

“To get either of you close enough, would be too much of a risk.” Said Optimus, as Tikki hummed.

“I could make them Cybertronian.” Said Tikki, making everyone freeze.

“You can do that?” Asked Marinette, cocking her head slightly.

“If I really wanted to, Marinette, I could turn you into a squirrel.” Said Tikki, frowning, “However, the change would be permanent.”

Everyone was quiet, before Miko giggled, “I’ll do it!”

“No.” Was the unanimous response.

“The city’s burning, Prime,” Said Fowler, leaning against the railing, “The casualty list is already in the thousands.”

The base was silent, until Marinette noticed how tense Jack was.

“You okay?” Asked Marinette, touching Jack’s shoulder.

“My mom’s attending a medical conference there.” Was Jack’s short answer.

“Jack, she could be hidden somewhere, somewhere safe.” Said Miko, a small frown gracing her lips.

Marinette gave Miko a sideways look, before smirking. She’d noticed the concern the Jack had for Miko had gone deeper than simple friendship, or even family, she just didn’t notice that it went both ways.

“Paris is my home, if you’re going there, I’m coming with.” Said Marinette, looking up at Optimus.

Optimus frowned, before Adrien and Kagami joined Marinette and looked up at Optimus, their decision made.

“Ratchet, activate the ground bridge.” Said Optimus, silently allowing the human to accompany them.

Jack watched the Autobots leave with Marinette, Adrien and Kagami, before scowling and making a break for the ground bridge, Miko and Raf quickly following after him.

He had to find his mom, she was the only family he had left, he didn’t care that he was running into hell.

NC

Marinette stared at the charred remains on the park and, subsequently, her parent’s bakery. The Eiffel Tower was on its side, one of its leg torn off, Decepticons were tearing the city apart.

“It’s here,” Came a gravelly, growling voice, “I know it.”

The group all froze when Jack shot past them, disappearing into the smoke.

“Jack!” Yelled Miko, before she too disappeared.

Raf was a couple feet behind the girl, before he tripped and fell over. The distant screams of the civilians filling the air, Optimus closed his optics and sighed. He believed at least half of the city’s population had been caught up in the crossfire.

“Autobots, evacuate the civilians.” Commanded Optimus, his battle mask sliding into place, “You three, I suggest you find whatever you need and guide them to the ground bridge, Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Smokescreen, remain with me to guard the bridge.”

Arcee, Bumblebee, Hot Rod, Cliffjumper and Cogman, ran out into the city, carefully instructing anyone they met towards the ground bridge, killing any Decepticons stupid enough to charge at them. Arcee kept her optics open for Jack and Miko, before spotting the two, Jack slumped over something in front of the remains the hotel. Arcee’s spark froze, realising what Jack was leaning over.

Miko was holding onto Jack as he cradled what remained of his mother, her lower half had been vapourised, her eyes were glassy and unseeing. Tears were falling onto her face and Jack sobbed.

“Jack.” Said Arcee, kneeling down next to him and Miko, before she caught sight of June.

“She was all I had left.” Gasped Jack, looking down at his mother.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Said Arcee, hanging her head, “but we need to go.”

Jack swallowed and closed his mother’s eyes. Jack got to his feet, before the rubble in front of him and Miko exploded, sending shards of rock and metal through the two humans.

“NO!” Screamed Arcee, as she saw blood appearing on the two.

NC

Optimus and his portion of the team were fighting of the Decepticons as Bumblebee ushered the humans through the ground bridge, some were reluctant, while other jumped at the opportunity.

“Optimus, I’ve found Jack and Miko.” Came Arcee from over the comm.

“Excellent work, Arcee, bring them back to our position and send them through the ground bridge.” Commended Optimus, shooting the head of a Vehicion and lobbing a sizeable statue at Dreadwing, knocking the seeker down.

“Optimus, they’re hurt, I, I think they’re going to die.” Said Arcee, making Optimus pause.

“Locate Marinette and Tikki,” Said Optimus, unsheathing his sword and gutting a decepticon, “if what the Creator said is true, she may be our only hope to save Jack and Miko.”

“Change their species?! Optimus, don’t you remember what she also said? That the change would be permanent?” Demanded Arcee, as Bulkhead threw Knockout to Wheeljack, who punched the Decepticon medic.

“I am aware, Arcee,” Said Optimus, knocking an Insecticon’s head off, “but we are past the point of debate, our base doesn’t have required facilities to aid them in their recovery.”

“But if they were Cybertronian, Ratchet could patch them up no problem.” Realised Arcee, went silent.

NC

Arcee skidded to a halt in front of Marinette and Tikki. The two gaped at the sight of Jack and Miko’s bloodied bodies.

“Optimus said you could save them.” Said Arcee, holding the two humans out.

“I said I could change them and that the change would be permanent.” Stressed Tikki, looking at the two.

“Optimus said that if you changed them, Ratchet could patch them back up.” Said Arcee, as Tikki frowned.

“Okay, but you’re going to need help carrying them.” Said Tikki, as the spots on her body glowed and her eyes went white.

A flash of light later, a male, silver, black and blue coloured mech lied on the ground, another flash had a pink and black with gold detailing femme lying next to the Mech.

“I can move Miko, no problem,” Said Arcee, before activating her comm, “Bumblebee, I need your help with something.”

NC

Ratchet watched as Agent Fowler did his best to calm the humans down, he was monitoring the Autobot life signals, when two suddenly came online. A few minutes later, Arcee and Bumblebee entered the base with the two unidentified Cybertronians.

“Ratchet, these two need patching up.” Said Arcee, as she clumsily sat the Femme down.

“I’m not even going to ask where you found a Triple-Changer.” Said Ratchet, as he set to work, “Bumblebee, monitor the team while I work.”

Bumblebee nodded and took position at the monitor screen. The wounds had pierced multiple important areas, but it wasn’t anything couldn’t fix. The triple changer, roughly the size of Optimus muttered something.

“Mom…” Said the Triple-Changer, with Jack’s voice.

NC

“I’m not picking up any human life signs, Optimus.” Said Smokescreen, as Marinette, Adrien and Kagami re-joined them.

“Tikki’s not picking up anything either.” Said Marinette, as Optimus nodded.

“Autobots, fall back!” Commanded Optimus, as he, the Autobots and humans retreated, leaving a city empty of living humans and full of Decepticons.

NC

Marinette looked through the crowd, her classmates were safe, Alya had grilled her about the Autobots, she’d met Nadja and Manon, bumped into Nathalie and Lianne and various other citizens of Paris that had to be evacuated. Marinette stopped when she saw her parents, handing out food they’d managed to save from the bakery.

General Bryce and Optimus were having a meeting with government officials and high rank armed forces officer. All of them looked confused, especially when Optimus had relayed, he’d chosen to save the surviving citizens, over destroying Megatron.

Chloe was the only survivor from her family, having been with Sabrina for the night. The same story was with Alix, but she’d been with Kim and Max. Adrien’s father and Lila were nowhere to be found, with them officially being declared dead.

Jack and Miko had been taken somewhere private, giving them both time to readjust to their new bodies.

A Decepticon scout that had been captured had relayed that Megatron wasn’t looking for the Miraculous, but rather, The All Spark, believing it to be buried under the city.

“What exactly is this ‘All Spark’?” Asked General Bryce, as Optimus frowned.

“It is an ancient force from Cybertron, that allows new sparks to be formed,” Said Optimus, “in essence, it could create worlds and fill them, with life.”

“And that’s how your race began.” Said the head of the CIA, “But why would it be under a city, who put it there.”

“Mr. Edmund, I doubt the All Spark was placed on earth, it is more likely it was drifting through space and entered Earth’s atmosphere, where it crashed down onto the planet with enough force to block out the sun.” Said Optimus, before looking at the other human officials, “It is likely that the All Spark was aboard a ship that no doubt was destroyed upon impact with the Earth.”

The Officials were silent.

“The secret’s out.” Said the President, “The whole world now knows about you, amazingly, some terrorist groups are now claiming responsibility for the attack, only to be attacked themselves.”

“There is also the issue of the two humans that had their species changed.” Said Bryce, as Fowler coughed.

“Sir, they were both grievously injured in Paris,” Said Fowler, “The only way to save them was to get them immediate medical attention.”

“Facilities that the Autobot base doesn’t possess.” Said Bryce, glancing out at the sea of people, “And since you were evacuating civilians, you couldn’t spare the bots or resources to get them to a hospital.” “Had the change not taken place, they would’ve perish passing through the Ground Bridge.” Said Optimus, as there was a cough from the entrance to the room.

Optimus, and the Human officials, turned and looked at the source of the cough. Bulkhead stood in the entrance.

“Miko’s awake.” Said Bulkhead, as Optimus nodded.

“I’m afraid, Gentlemen,” Said Optimus, turning back to the Officials, “that my presence is needed elsewhere.”

Optimus turned and walked out of the room, looking at Bulkhead, “Has Jack shown any signs of regaining consciousness?”

Bulkhead shook his head, “Miko was demanding to seem him, but, frankly, I’m not sure how he’d react if his woke up to his current state.”

Optimus frowned, “Has there been any response to our message?”

“Jackie hasn’t received anything, but they might be maintaining radio silence until they reach earth.” Replied Bulkhead, as he opened a door and a wrench his Optimus in the chest.

“Whoa, Miko!” Yelled Bulkhead, getting in front of Optimus, “Calm down!”

“Where’s Jack?!” Screamed Miko, picking up a barrel and throwing it.

“Jack is still under observation, Miko,” Said Optimus, internally groaning about his shattered wind screen, “he has yet to regain consciousness and his emotional state will be greatly unstable.”

“Unstable?!” Screeched Miko, throwing a crate with circuit boards at the two, “That’s a fucking understatement! He just saw his mother bisected corpse!”

Optimus couldn’t contain the wince, before the comm went off.

“Optimus, we have a problem.” Said Smokescreen.

“What is it, Smokescreen?” Asked Optimus, keeping an eye on Miko.

“Jack’s awake, and he’s kicking the scrap out of us.” There was the sound of Smokescreen being hit, before there was silence.

“Smokescreen?!” Demanded Optimus, before heading out the door, already knowing that Smokescreen was out of action.

Marinette saw Optimus, Bulkhead and Miko run across the base, no doubt trying to reach Jack.

NC

Megatron glared at the burning city from the throne that had been made from the hideous structure that the humans dared to call ‘art’. Lockdown had told him about these ‘miraculous’ but Megatron’s prize was something far more powerful. Soundwave had detected the All-Spark underneath the city, spurring Megatron to claim it as his new capital, with the power of the All Spark, and his own scientists work, Megatron would be able to cyberform this entire world and then move on to Cybertron, Primus and Unicron. Creation and Destruction. Life and Death. Soon, Megatron would be taking his place amongst the gods.

Megatron heard frantic pleading, spotting Dreadwing dragging Starscream towards him. Shockwave had been returned to them, mostly thanks to Soundwave who’s detected some unusual activity on Cybertron.

“Starscream.” Growled Megatron, getting to his feet, “What feeble excuse do you have for us this time?”

“P-p-please, Master,” Whimpered Starcream, trying to pry Dreadwing’s hand off his head, “I-I-I only came here to re-pledge my undying loyalty to you!”

Megatron glared down at Starscream, before throwing is head back and laughing, “You are many things, Starscream, but, frankly, I no longer have any need of you.”

Starscream’s eyes widened, as Megatron levelled his fusion cannon with the Seeker’s head. The last thing the treacherous Decepticon saw was Megatron’s displeased snarl and the cannon discharging.

Starscream’s lifeless husk fell to the ground.

“Shockwave, I believe you have some experiments that required… test subjects.” Said Megatron, as two Vehicon’s started dragging Starscream’s body, as Megatron held his hand out to Soundwave. The Silent Decepticon dropped a spark into his hand, “And someone find out where the real Starscream is and bring him here.”

The Decepticons dispersed, leaving the warlord alone with his thoughts.

NC

Optimus and Bulkhead pinned a squirming Jack to the ground, while Ratchet tried to sedate him. One of Bumblebee’s door wings had been torn off, while Smokescreen had lost an arm, Wheeljack, Arcee and Cliffjumper had sported minor injuries. Wheeljack was working with Arcee to reattach Smokescreen’s arm, fortunately it was a clean cut. Miko sat on the ground next to Jack, doing her best to calm him down. After a few minutes of struggling, Miko had calmed Jack down enough for Ratchet to give him the sedative.

“That went well.” Said Arcee, as Smokescreen rotated his arm and Ratchet worked to reattaching Bumblebee’s missing door wing.

“Never would’ve thought it.” Groaned Smokescreen, jerking his arm around.

“Is he going to be okay?” Asked Miko, making the Autobots look at her.

“Jack was under a great deal of mental and emotional stress when the change occurred,” Said Ratchet, looking at the monitor on his arm, “I’m afraid that I can only help patch up his wounds, I don’t that the necessary skills to help with his emotional wellbeing.”

“You, you said he was a triple changer,” Said Miko, her gold optics looking up at Optimus, “What is that?”

“A triple changer, Miko,” Said Optimus, after a moment, “Is a Cybertronian who had two alt modes, most of them joined the Decepticons, with very few siding with the Autobots.”

Miko blinked a couple of times, before looking back down at Marinette.

“Where’re Hot Rod and Cogman?” Asked Arcee, looking around for the two Autobots.

“Cogman is on the roof of the base,” Said Ratchet, as he pulled a piece of shrapnel out of Jack’s shoulder, “Hot Rod is seeking a new alt mode.”

Optimus frowned, before leaving the room and heading to the roof. Cogman’s back was to Optimus.

“Seven Autobots have broken Earth’s atmosphere and heading to the surrounding desert.” Said Cogman, looking up at the sky.

“Have you been able to discern their identities?” Asked Optimus, stopping next to Cogman.

“Jazz, Prowl, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Mirage and Jetfire have sent out identifying signals,” Said Cogman, not looking at the Prime, “The seventh hasn’t responded and there are four more Autobot signals entering the system.”

Optimus frowned, the six Cogman had listed would be excellent additions to Team Prime, but he couldn’t help but worry that the seventh signal was some Decepticon trap. Optimus was broken from his musings when a ship appeared above them. Optimus squinted his optics, identifying the ship at the Iron Will.

Cogman went to draw his weapons, “Stand down, Cogman, it’s Ultra Magnus.”

The Cybertronian Knight froze, before scowling. The ship touched down beside the base, prompting Optimus to head back inside the base.

NC

Marinette laughed as Kim finished his story. There was an idle chatter amongst the Parisians, some were laughing, while others were simply basking in the silence of their group. Arcee watched the humans.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Asked Smokescreen, joining Arcee, “They just lost everything and they’re acting as if nothing’s changed.”

“Smokescreen,” Said Arcee, after a moment, “they lost objects and those who lost family found others who share their grief. At the end of the day, they still have each other.”

Smokescreen looked at Arcee, “You sounded just like Optimus.”

“I’ve serving under his command for years, frag me.” Snarked the motorcycle, as Optimus walked back into the base.

“I’m not sure I want to know.” Said Optimus, walking over to the monitor station, “Seven new Autobots have arrived on this world, with another four approaching.”

“Any idea who they are?” Asked Arcee, as Smokescreen returned to watching the humans.

“Ultra Magnus has landed his ship outside,” Said Optimus, observing the screen, “Cogman has identified the other signals of valued allies, they will need picking up before Megatron comes for them.”

Arcee frowned, before the monitor beeped and an Autobot life signal lit up the screen, “Wait, is that Ironhide?”

“Cogman identified Ironhide as one of the signals that arrived,” Said Optimus, as he programmed the ground bridge, “Arcee, Smokescreen, come with me.”

NC

Ultra Magnus raised an eyebrow as he scanned the planet, he heard one of his passengers snort at him.

“If you have something to say, soldier, now’s the time.” Said Ultra Magnus, turning around.

The Autobot who snorted at him, Brawn, folded his arms, “You just said we landed outside of Prime’s base, why don’t we just knock on the front door.”

Brawn was primarily green and yellow and resembled Bulkhead. Behind Brawn, Springer, a green triple changer, coughed and Kup, a teal warrior with a cigar in his mouth scowled.

“Whether we’re outside Optimus’s base or not, we cannot risk being seen by the natives of this world.” Said a rose-and-white femme, Elita One, looking around the mechs, “Optimus is concerned about someone.”

“Attention, Autobot Ship Iron Will,” Came Ratchet’s voice through the comms, “The main entrance to the base is open, I’d like to suggest you come in, before Ironhide destroys any more of my equipment.”

“I heard that, Doc.” Came Ironhide’s famous drawl.

The Autobots heard Ratchet sigh, before terminating the connection.

“I think it’s safe to go in.” Said Brawn, standing up, “I hate being in this tiny ship.”

The Autobots filed out of the ship and into the base, with Ultra Magnus activating the cloak as soon as they were off the ship. Elita smiled at the sight of Arcee, before freezing at the sight of two Cybertronians she didn’t recognise. Arcee followed her sisters gaze and winced.

“It’s a long story.” Said Arcee, as Optimus re-entered the base, followed by Jazz, Prowl and Jetfire.

“I think we’re going to need a bigger base.” Said Smokescreen, looking around.

Springer was accosted by Ratchet and practically dragged to the med bay, “Finally, someone who might be compatible with my patient.”

“What?” Asked Springer, as Ratchet forced him onto a berth.

The ground bridge opened again, as Bulkhead lead Sideswipe and Mirage into the base.

“Wow, what a dump.” Said Sideswipe, as Arcee went back to looking into the room she’d been looking in before Elita arrived.

Ultra Magnus approached Arcee, before catching sight of the sea of humans.

“What are they doing in the base?” Asked Ultra Magnus, making Arcee look up.

“Long story.” Came Arcee’s response, “Optimus will fill you in once everyone’s here.”

“Optimus the four signal Cogman said were entering the system that just broken the atmosphere.” Called Ratchet, squinting at the screen, “It’s Hound, Crosshair, Drift and Warpath.”

Smokescreen let out a low whistle, “Is it me or are we getting a ton of heavy hitters?”

NC

Marinette looked at all the people getting ready to leave, they were being taken back to France and were going to be placed in temporary housing until Paris had been reclaimed. The Autobots had taken the news about Jack and Miko with mixed results, Ultra Magnus and Kup didn’t believe it, until they spoke with Miko, while Crosshairs thought it’d be funny to get a rise out of Jack. Crosshairs still had trouble with his arm.

Ironhide, Springer and Jetfire had taken to training the newly turned Cybertronians, while Optimus dealt with the press. The rest of Team Prime had started ferrying the Parisians back to France. Cliffjumper crouched next to Marinette, making her look up.

“We’re doing everything we can it make it like it was.” Said Cliffjumper, looking over the sea of Humans.

“Optimus is going to try and take the city back, isn’t he?” Asked Marinette, looking back at the crowd.

“Yeah,” Said Cliffjumper, as Elita One directed Mirage and Sideswipe in their tasks, “I know it’s gonna seem a bit empty, but I promise, we’ll do everything in our power for you to go home.”

“Thanks,” Responded Marinette, smiling slightly, “It means a lot.”

“Marinette!” Called Kagami, as she prepared to get on a truck, “It’s time to go!”

Marinette nodded, before looking up at Cliffjumper, “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I prefer a ‘see you soon’.” Said Cliffjumper, before crouching lower, allowing Marinette to hug his head, “I’ll miss ya, kid.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Replied Marinette, before heading away from the Autobot.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Said Hound, his cigar bouncing as he spoke, “we’re gonna out live ‘em all anyway.”

The last of the trucks vanished through the ground bridge, leaving the Autobots alone.

NC

Cliffjumper looked at the crowd of humans, a task force specially designed to fight the Decepticons, the Non-biological Extra-terrestrial Species Treaty. Optimus frowned as Bumblebee and Jetfire returned from their scouting missions.

“They are surrounding the city like a fortress, so that no one can see what they’re up to on the inside.” Mused Optimus, frowning, “Our only chance is through the element of surprise.”

“How are we supposed to retake it?” Asked Sideswipe, scowling at the wreckages.

“Earth is our home now, Sideswipe, while we call it our home, we must defend it.” Said Optimus, looking at the red Autobot, “I can only ask you to follow me into battle.”

“Optimus, you don’t even need to ask.” Said Konton, Miko, cracking her knuckles. Wheeljack had adopted her, to prevent her spark from failing, with Optimus and Elita doing the same for Jack, who’d taken the name Trion, in reference to his three forms.

“Then, today, in the name of freedom, we shall take the battle to them.” Said Optimus, turning away from the group, “Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #Transformers Prime #cliffjumper #adrien agreste #optimus prime #tom dupain #sabine cheng #kagami tsurugi #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #alix kubdel #le chien kim #max kante #chloe bourgeois #mylene haprele #delta writes #New Car AU #background Miraculous Characters #Team Prime

[qixingtianji]

bees and bis (1/??)

a fake dating thing that nobody asked for, written by someone who hasn’t done shit in a while and can’t ever finish a fic. my mc is named charlie, comes from mcallister, and her puppy is named kai, so, those are the names i went for, yay?

     having put your phone on silent mode hasn’t helped you the slightest bit as you find yourself unable to stay away from your phone for more than a couple of minutes. zoey has tried in vain to confiscate your phone ─ she just can’t say no to the puppy dog eyes you put on as soon as she halfheartedly threatens to throw your phone out the window.

     “𝘀𝗼, 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗴 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹? 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝗹”

     it’s the latest comment to invade your feed. you’ve read many others like this one, and you still don’t know how to feel about it. sure, you hate to see everyone bringing up your past, pointing out how out of place you are at belvoire ─ like you need the reminders. how the hell did your life end up becoming such a gigantic disaster? it all went downhill the second you faced fucking poppy min-sinclair for the first time, didn’t it?

     “why are you letting all the haters get to you, babe?” you hear zoey ask. “it’s not like you actually slept with her anyway.”

     you look up from your phone, wide-eyed, mouth agape, as you stare at your friend. you stare at each other in silence for a second, until zoey’s eyes widen in realization and she lets out a gasp. well, you’re thoroughly fucked.

     “when i said it wouldn’t be good to get in bed with poppy, i didn’t think i needed to warn you against going so literal about it!” she sighs and shakes her head a little, like a teacher disappointed in their favorite student. you can’t help feeling bad about it ─ you already knew that what you had done was far from being good, but seeing zoey’s reaction is really putting it into perspective for you right now. that is, until a little smirk tugs at the corner of zoey’s mouth. oh no. what is she thinking about? “you gotta have some dirt on her! what was it like? what was she like?”

     “oh no, zo, we’re so not doing this right now!”

     “don’t leave me hanging. you’ve seen poppy naked! is there a human being under all the bitch and gucci layers? or is she a robot?”

     “zo,” you warn, staring back at your friend. zoey meets your eyes and doesn’t lower or avert her gaze; she is way too motivated to hear about whatever you could say about poppy, despite having been the one to encourage you to stop thinking about her in the first place ─ you’re sure that zoey would argue that she didn’t know you had slept with poppy when she asked you to forget about her. 

     “she is human. a shitty human, but still a human.”

     it’s the only answer you’re willing to give zoey. you can’t exactly start talking about how perfect poppy’s tits are. not that you’ve ever thought that anything about poppy was perfect. clearly not. poppy is the worst person you’ve ever met in your entire life, you remind yourself, you hate poppy and every fiber of her being with every fiber of your being.

     “does the carpet match the drapes─”

     “zo!”

     “come on! how much does she really bleach her hair?”

     you cross your arms over your chest and stare at zoey. she doesn’t seem to want to back down the slightest bit. no matter how much you want to talk about poppy, you can’t just bring yourself to gossip right now. 

     your phone lights up with a notification, and you can’t help but roll your eyes when you read the name that pops up on your screen.

     “is it your girlfriend?”

     “i slept with poppy just the one time! she isn’t my girlfriend!”

     “i was thinking about professor kingsley, actually. but it’s good to know where your loyalty is.”

     you let out a groan. all you want to do is face-plant in your bed and scream into your pillow until everything goes away. zoey is having way too much fun teasing you about this whole situation, though arguably, you would do just the same if you were in her shoes.

     you unlock your phone with a quick swipe and open your conversation with poppy.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡 𝗶 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽, 𝗺𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿.

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗘 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗼? 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘄?

     “what does she want?” zoey asks.

     “a fight, i guess.” you shrug.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗯𝗻𝗼𝘅𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀? 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆. 𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘀. 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅. 𝗱𝗼 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁.

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗘 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆... 𝘄𝗲 𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅... 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗺 𝗶 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼? 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲?

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡 𝘀𝗵𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗽. 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗽 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝘂𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗶𝗴 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘀.

     your pig squeals? this is what she is going with?

     you look up at zoey, who is staring at you, eyebrow arched, like all she is waiting for if for you to start talking about whatever drama poppy is throwing at you. you may not be in the mood for gossiping, but you sure are in the mood to ramble about poppy out of frustration because she is getting on your nerves with her double standards, unreasonable expectations and stupid attitude.

     “she is blaming me for ruining her rep because people are saying she’s slept with the pig girl.” you just have to roll your eyes. “like she isn’t the one who made me the pig girl!”

     “babe, it’s poppy you’re talking about here. you can’t expect her to be logical and accept to take responsibility for what she’s done.”

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺.

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗘 𝗮𝘄𝘄, 𝗶 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗲!

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄. 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗸𝗮𝗶 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

     “either poppy is in love with me, or she wants to murder me and steal my dog.”

     zoey chuckles lightly, shaking her head.

     “she’s been wanting to murder you since the day you arrived to belvoire, babe. she’s going to steal your life and your dog.”

     you grin at her. “and my heart!” you add.

     “sure, if you’re into getting insulted on a daily basis...”

     “zo, it’s rude to kink shame people like that!”

     she gives your arm a light slap before getting up from her seat. you watch in silence as she adjusts her skirt and shirt.

     “babe, if you want to trust poppy min-sinclair with your life, it’s too late to save you, so i’m just going to pretend i heard nothing of what you said, and i’m going to go find myself a hot date for tonight.”

     you let out an exaggerated gasp and place a hand over your heart. “you’re replacing me?”

     zoey grabs your face between her hands and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before stepping back and away from you to head to your room.

     “you started by cheating on me with poppy, darling! now it’s my turn to get a side piece!” she throws you a wink and turns her back to you.

     you sigh. if poppy expects you to be in her room as soon as possible, you shouldn’t be losing time just sitting at the kitchen counter. there’s no need to be thinking about what poppy wants ─ there’s no way you could figure out what goes on inside that girl’s head, especially when you aren’t sure she knows what goes on inside her own head. but hurrying just for poppy’s sake doesn’t quite sit right with you.

     so, while you make no effort to hurry to get ready and head out, you also make sure not to get too distracted by the amount of new clothes zoey has shoved in your wardrobe without you realizing, or by kai’s adorable little face. and in the end, it takes you over half an hour to get ready ─ there’s no doubt in your mind that poppy will scold you for taking way too much time and making her wait. if she hasn’t already forgotten that she asked you to get to her room. why her room again anyway? won’t the rest of the sorority see you? sure, they don’t care about anything or pay attention to anything, but still.

     you shrug to yourself, throw your bag over your shoulder, and pick up kai in your arms.

     “gonna go get murdered! it was a pleasure knowing you, zo!”

     “love you, babe! try to come back with half your dignity!”

     “bye, babe! see you never!”

     the walk to the zetas’ house isn’t exactly the longest, so you don’t try to walk faster than necessary, which would be hassle while you’re wearing heels and carrying a puppy anyway.

     the moment you reach the sorority, you’re greeted by taylor opening the door for you, even though you haven’t knocked at the door. creepy much?

     “hi, charlie,” taylor says, barely able to meet your eyes, focusing on kai immediately to pet his head, “fair warning, poppy is really mad.”

     “thanks for the warning, taylor.” 

     you smile at taylor before heading for the stairs, where you find veronica, phone in her hand as usual.

     “say hi to the camera, charlie!”

     without thinking, you give a small wave. fuck. she’s probably doing one of her stupid lives again. now the whole of belvoire is going to know that you’re at the zeta house. perfect, just what you needed to fuel the rumors and poppy’s bad temper.

     “you here to see your girlfriend? or is she your fuck buddy?”

     “she is neither, veronica.”

     before either of you can say anything else, poppy opens her bedroom door and glares at you. she doesn’t even need to say anything, you just know that she is pissed and that the message is “get your ass right here, right now”. you exchange an awkward look with veronica over her phone.

     “come to my room if poppy gets too boring, hot stuff!”

     you know you’re blushing, so instead of acknowledging veronica’s words, you lower your head slightly and walk towards poppy, knowing full well that you’re signing your death wish a second time over.

     the second you put kai down on the floor, it’s like you cease to exist entirely for poppy. she only greets him, and takes him in her arms to go sit on her bed with him. ignoring your existence. like it isn’t the most awkward situation ever. that’s just great. you’re in the lions’ den and you’re being ignored. you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so insignificant to anyone else before.

     “i know i’m hot, mcallister, but you don’t have to stare at me like that.”

     you roll your eyes at the comment. you hadn’t taken the time to really look at her until now. poppy isn’t wearing one of the usual tight skirt and blouse combo that she always has on. the pastel pink dress she is wearing seems simple, but you know that it’s worth a lot more than what you would have been willing to pay just for anything just a few months ago. it fits her perfectly, hugging her waist tightly and presenting her cleavage in the most attractive of ways.

     there’s no doubt, you are very much staring now. and when you look up at her face, poppy is smirking. surprisingly, with kai in her lap, she doesn’t look half as threatening as usual.

     “did you ask me to come only to ignore me? is that your evil plan for revenge?” you ask, still standing near the door, unsure what to do with yourself without poppy allowing you to do anything in her room ─ you don’t need her permission for anything, but you’d rather avoid provoking her wrath when you are on her territory.

     poppy’s hand stills on kai’s head, and she stares right back at you. god, if looks could kill... you’d have died the second you set foot at belvoire.

     “everybody thinks i cheated on bradley.”

     “technically, you did.”

     “i’m not interested in him and he isn’t interested in me. we were dating for the sake of convenience.”

     were dating?

     “everybody hates me because i cheated on bradley,” she says absentmindedly as she scratches kai’s stomach.

     you snort.

     “everybody hates you because you’re a backstabbing bitch.”

     “you’re a backstabbing bitch as well, mcallister.”

     the conversation really isn’t getting you anywhere. you don’t know why, but you have a feeling poppy is just beating around the bush, which is extremely unlike her, as she has proven to enjoy brutal honesty with you so far.

     “what do you want from me, poppy?”

     she gently moves kai out of her lap and places him on her bed. she stands up, steps towards you. close. way too close. you hold your breath for a second, but relax almost immediately, as her attitude isn’t aggressive ─ then again, you should probably be worried about that part.

     “date me, mcallister.”

#poppy x mc #poppy min-sinclair #queen b #playchoices #should i proof read? yes #did i proof read? no #am i going to? again no

[stellacolletore]

i. kanade finds chihaya alone in the club room

Finding Chihaya sprawled on the tatami mat is a sight Kanade did not know she missed until she sees it again. It is late in the afternoon and the club meeting is cancelled as the members need to pore over their studies for exam week. She herself is about to go home, but her footsteps had drawn her here before she could even think of a reason why.

She enters the room and settles on the space beside Chihaya.

“What brings you here, Chihaya-chan?”

Chihaya’s eyes spring open in surprise. She must have been in deep thought, Kanade notes. Her friend’s outstanding hearing allows her to quickly sense them whenever they’re around that Kanade’s long used to being on the receiving end of her greetings.

Chihaya sits up, turning towards her. “Kana-chan…” she pauses for a second. “I needed somewhere to think, that’s all.”

It’s understandable. In between the whirlwind of last weekend’s Meijin and Queen matches and the upcoming university entrance exams, there are merely a few moments for Chihaya to take in everything that has been happening. Indeed, this quiet hour in the club room is the perfect time and place for mulling over pensive thoughts. Still, something is telling her she shouldn’t leave Chihaya alone just yet.

Kanade lies down on the tatami mat. “This is nice,” she announces to the startled girl beside her. With a hint of wistfulness, she admits, “I should have done this more often.”

“But it’s really an unladylike thing to do and you’re a graceful girl, Kana-chan, so there’s nothing to feel sorry about!” Chihaya supplies immediately, her sincerity bringing a fond smile to Kanade. Laying back on the floor again, Chihaya mutters, “You know, I’m not sure if it’s possible for me to ever become a graceful girl. Or even understand how it is to be like one.”

The concerning tone of her voice prompts Kanade to ask. “What have you been thinking about earlier, Chihaya-chan?”

Kanade could feel Chihaya stiffen slightly beside her. A few seconds pass before she hears a muted reply. “I was thinking about what should I have said to Taichi when…when he told me he loved me before.”

Eh?! So he did tell her?! That explains a lot of things but—when did that happen? How? It took all her self-control for Kanade to conceal the dizzying questions in her mind. Feigning a calm demeanor, she asks instead, “I see. Do you perhaps regret what you said to him back then?”

“I don’t know,” Chihaya answers, seemingly frustrated at herself. “I just know it was wrong because it hurt him enough to leave karuta, to leave the club, to leave…me.”

“Oh, Chihaya-chan.” Kanade loves Chihaya for all that she is; however, she can’t deny not hoping to have a conversation like this with her dear friend, one who has long been entangled in matters of love whether or not she’s ready to welcome it. Nevertheless, it is worrying to witness her perpetually cheerful friend in distraught. It’s clear that Chihaya had been deeply affected with President Mashima’s previous departure, but she evidently had no clue about the extent that feeling went. Attempting to provide some level of comfort, Kanade says, “But he’s come back now. Everything’s fine.” She looks over Chihaya, only to find a weary expression on her face. It’s not, it seems to say.

A new understanding dawns on Kanade. If she understands this correctly, then…

“You are worrying about what happens after you two graduate, aren’t you?” Chihaya’s open expression tells her she’s right. Kanade pushes on, “Chihaya-chan, even though you and President Mashima are going to different universities, it’s still possible to meet with each other. You can ask him to eat with you or to play karuta at the Shiranami society when there’s time. Unless…” It’s now or never, Kanade thinks as she finds her voice again, “…that wouldn’t be enough for you?”

Kanade fixes her gaze at Chihaya, determined not to miss her reaction. Chihaya’s eyes are open wide, and Kanade’s sure that the intention behind her question got through to her. Then, most unexpectedly, she covers her face with her hands as starts to snivel. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Not when he says his feelings for me have faded away.”

So she’s heard us before?  Pushing aside the thought, she focused on consoling her friend. “Look at me, Chihaya-chan,” Kanade waits for her to heed her request before continuing. “You trust me to know things about poetry and love, and so I want you to believe me when I tell you this: President Mashima is lying. I could tell that he still loves you. So tell him what you wish to let him know, Chihaya-chan.” Kanade gives her an encouraging smile, her own heart soaring in happiness for her friends.

Chihaya takes a steadying breath, appearing soothed, but then she’s overcome with another worry. “I can’t.”

“It’s not that hard, Chihaya-chan. You just have to tell him you want him to stay with you and—” Kanade’s advice is cut off at the sight of Chihaya shaking her head. “No. I can’t tell him anything.”

It’s Kanade’s turn to be baffled. “What do you mean—?”

Chihaya’s face crumples as she suddenly wails, “I can’t tell him anything because I can’t find him anywhere! I’ve been searching for him this whole week and he’s nowhere—not in the library, or his cram school entrance, and I can’t bother him during class…” She collapses on the tatami mat once again, “At this rate, I won’t ever see him ‘til graduation! And only to tell goodbye!”

Before she could stop herself, Kanade bursts into laughter. Chihaya looks at her, petulant. “Kana-chan!”

Wiping at the moist in her eyes, Kanade explains, “Sorry, Chihaya-chan. You’re right, Prez isn’t around right now—but only because he’s on ‘house arrest’ for the week, as Nishida-kun calls it.”

“Huh?”

“Prez has his entrance exam this weekend, and since he took the time to watch someone play last Saturday,” Kanade gives her a playful wink, “his mother had him locked him up in his room to catch up on his studies. According to Tstutomu-kun, even his phone was confiscated.”

Chihaya was awestruck for a whole five seconds before being the one to dissolve in laughter this time around. “Mrs. Pressure must’ve been terrifying.” Chihaya proceeds to stand up and stretch her arms as if she’s detaching herself from the things that worried her. Beaming at Kanade, she declares, “Well, if Taichi’s doing that much and he’s already smart, I may have to start seriously studying for my exams. All right, let’s go home!”

Before leaving their separate ways as they head for their respective train stations, Chihaya asks Kanade for a favor. “Kana-chan, if you’re free this Saturday…can you and Sumire-chan help me make chocolates again?” Kanade’s sure about the reason behind the request, but decides to indulge in the happiness of hearing Chihaya say it. “Of course, Chihaya-chan. Do you want to host another Valentine’s Day picnic at the club?”

Chihaya stammers out, blushing all the while. “T-that’s a nice idea, Kana-chan! But I actually wanted to make some for Taichi—as a congratulations present. For taking the exam. And, um,”—Kanade’s internally squealing at how adorable Chihaya tries to convey herself—“I needed a reason to tell him what you told me to tell him.” Kanade holds Chihaya’s hands, “Everything’s going to be alright, Chihaya-chan.”

In the train on the way home, Kanade recalls the turn of events at the club room. Looking up at the full moon behind the train windows, she thinks of two poems that resonates with them:

Even for a time/Short as a piece of the reeds/In Naniwa’s marsh

We must never meet again:/Is this what you are asking me?

Though I would hide it/In my face it still appears—/My fond, secret love.

And now he questions me:/“Is something bothering you?”

#chihayafuru #taichihaya #ayase chihaya #mashima taichi #taichihaya-day #come talk taichihaya with me!

[lassluna]

Off the Deep End (2/?)

Emma Swan has had to fight for everything in her life. She’s had to fight to keep a roof over their heads, she’s had to fight to keep her marriage from crumbling--that was a fight doomed from the start--and to fight to make something of herself.

Then of course that rich snob on a boat cost her her job. He’s an absolute prick who has probably never fought for anything in his entitled life. So when an opportunity for a little revenge pops up, who was she to deny it?

Now she has to fight to keep from having actual feelings for the amnesiac who might just care about her and her kids.

CS Overboard AU

Ao3 FFN

AN: Long over due second chapter of my @captainswanmoviemarathon​, submission thank you so much for you support of this. I really appreciate it. Also thank you @carpedzem​ for the wonderful art It’s wonderful as always.  

Chapter 2

Killian Jones had never wanted for anything. Not with his mother’s multimillion dollar shipping company that she had built herself. Their fortune provided him the opportunity to live in the lapse of luxury, anything he so desired was his with a simple phone call or a credit card. Everything except his mother herself.

He remembered Alice Jones fondly, remembers the trips to the beach they went on, being 5 years old and watching her teach his elder brother to sail. They both adored their time with her, their time cooking in the kitchen, going to a movie anything to keep the boys from realizing just how privileged they were.

He remembers what she used to tell them before they went to sleep. “A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” She would say. He tried to live by that, even after her death when he was still a child. Even after his father, drowning in grief,  spent most of his childhood in board meetings or bars rather than with him.

Boarding schools raise the children of the rich. This was a fact Killian knew quite well from all his time spent in them. But Killian was nothing if not resourceful. A man who doesn’t fight for what they want deserves what they get, and so whatever Killian wanted, he would get. He had enough power and influence to do so. 

Sometimes it took money, other times it took throwing around his father’s reputation. Anyone who said no to him never held firm for long, all it took was a message to his father (His secretary really if Killian was being honest)  and whatever stood in his way crumbled under their weight. 

(Killian never really asked how exactly they did it, just that it was easier than parenting)

Liam never really liked Killian’s mentality when it came to these things, he always tried to teach Killian how to deal with things like this with honor or good form. Those concepts made him roll his eyes.

It’s not like Liam ever stuck around either to actually clean up the mess his bouts of ‘honor’ led him into. The moment Liam joined the military Killian was alone again, back to handling things his way. It was easier that way.    

Killian would never want for anything. Except maybe for this splitting headache to subside. And it wasn’t from a bloody hangover.

“Here you go babe.” A voice says besides him as one of the crewen handed her an icepack to put on his aching head. “I can’t believe that crazy person threw you off your own ship!” She exclaims, the coldness seems to help his aching head.

He smiled at her, his brunette beautiful girlfriend of half a decade. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her, or at the very least he’d have a lot less fun doing it.

“Perhaps Mr. Jones needs to go see a doctor.” The crewman notes. Milah rolls her eyes.

“Killian is fine, aren’t you babe?” She asks. “We have a party tonight that I-we simply can not miss.” He smirks. Typical Milah, much like himself she knows that the celebration shouldn’t stop, he was Killian Jones after all.  

What he wanted, he got, what he couldn’t have he’d buy. Simple as that.

“Mr. Jones, you have a call sir.” Another crewman said, the young lady who typically served the food. He waved her away.

“Tell whoever that is I’m busy.” He says. He does not have time for his father or brother getting involved in his personal life. Always wanting to change him to fit their needs. He had no interest in whatever they had to say.

“Your brother says it can’t wait.” She adds nervously. “He said something about flying over if you don’t take his call.

Killian groans in annoyance. The only thing worse than talking to Liam is him showing up here unannounced and killing his buzz. He recalls a time last year when he and his mates stormed into his party and effectively confiscated all the rum, a killing blow to even the most lively of events.

“Fine.” He says offering his hand for the phone. “What is it brother?”

“Nice way to greet me, little brother.” Liam says mildly amused. 

“Younger brother.” He responds impatiently. Killian’s always hated his nickname which of course just made Liam use it at every turn. “Now tell me what’s so important that you had to threaten to show up if I don’t answer?” He snaps. He glances at Milah’s face, she seems mildly annoyed but listening all the same. 

“Why are you in Maine?” He asks. “You’re supposed to be in New York for father’s birthday.” Killian rolls his eyes.

“Well that’s exactly why I am here, brother. Today it’s Maine and then tomorrow we head out to cross the Atlantic, we’re thinking of hitting London next.I have no intention of visiting my father and his gang of supporters and gathering around and talking about what a wonderful father he is.” Killian snaps. “You and I both know he wasn’t.”

“Be that as it may, he still only wants the best for us.” Liam adds. “Just come down, smile and then you can be off again.”

“You know the second I step foot there he’s going to be down my throat about taking up the reigns of the company alongside you.” Killian reminds him. He does so every time he sees him. 

“And is that so bad?” Liam asks. “Is it so terrible to try to protect what mother built? So terrible to make something of our lives?” Killian can tell he was getting impatient with him “It’s about time you stop obsessing over the past and grow up brother.”

“Easy for you to say, you joined the bloody military to get away from him.” Killian reminds him. While Liam was off being the honorable brother, he was expected to take part of their mother’s company. He never wanted any of that. But what he wanted never seemed to matter. 

“And you used alcohol and your bloody boat.” Liam snaps. “What would our mother think if she saw you now? Prancing around without a care in the world with that gold digger at your side”

Now Killian was getting angry. “Mother always said we need to fight for what we want, brother. And right now I want to be done with this conversation.”

Killian didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

He gives a long sigh, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Talking to his family always left him frustrated. Couldn’t they see he was not interested in any of that? That he was perfectly content with life as it was?

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Milah says, as she always does when he has a difficult phone call with his family. “But maybe it’s best for us to go.” She offers. “Rub a few elbows, and maybe get absolutely wasted at your dear ol’ dad’s expense.” She says with a smirk.

He can’t help smile at Milah’s attempt to make him feel better.  

“But for now, let’s get ready for the best party this little rundown port has ever seen!” She says happily. She stands up and points to the crew who had given her the cold press. “What are you standing around for? We have work to do.” She announces. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll take care of everything.” She promises.

True to her word, she does. Killian can’t help but laugh at the way Milah barked her orders and demanded at his employees, making sure that this party Milah insisted on throwing was to her liking.

Hell hath no fury like a disappointed Milah.

 //

The party was excellent, just as Milah intended. Lord knows he would have heard about it had things gone any other way. It was something Killian liked about her, always striving for perfection. 

They headed off to sea onwards the end of the party, just in time for the locals to get the bloody hell off his ship. Killian quite enjoyed it like that. He much preferred to head off to England with just his normal crew and Milah.

“Did you have a good time?” Milah asks, smiling down at him from her position on the railing. He was nursing one last beer, watching the lights from the town fade away.

“Of course love.” He says, standing up to give her a swift peck on the cheek. She didn’t hesitate to draw him in deeper, a hand on his cheek. “I always do.”

It made her smile brighter.

“Always.” She repeats. “That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. We’ve been together for years Killian.” 

He nods. It had been a whirlwind romance, full of sex and alcohol and quite a bit of fun along the way. She understood him in ways that most did not. Far more than his brother or father ever did.

“Always.” Milah repeats. “Do you think...” She trails off. He smiles, cupping her cheek.

“What is it? You know you can talk to me.”

“Killian.” She says slowly. “Have you ever thought... do you think...”She looks away then glances up. “Marry me Killian Jones.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard her correctly. Marriage? Him?

He can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Him marry her? It was more ridiculous the more he thought about it. He felt Milah push him away, her hopeful smile gone in an instant. 

“Why are you laughing?” She demands. “You ungrateful bastard.” She pushes him again rougher.

“Milah...” He says trailing off. “Why the hell would I want to marry you?” Because that’s the truth. They’d never spoken about this, never talked long term. Sure they've been together for the last few years but he never...he never thought about them being long term, never thought she wanted that life.

He sure as hell doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to run the company like Liam wants him to. He doesn’t want to stop seeing the world and he sure as hell doesn’t want marriage and children.

Perhaps Milah doesn’t quite understand him like he thought.

“Because-Because” She stutters out. “Because you love me!” She declares. 

He shakes his head. “Milah I think you have the wrong idea about what we have. It’s just...fun, nothing so serious. Just mindless fun.”

“You absolute jackass!” She shrieks and gives him another push in the chest. It doesn’t hurt persay, but it does make his grip on the railing loosen, then there’s a sickening crack as the security on the railing breaks under their weight. He stumbles backwards and barely catches himself. He’s holding onto his ship now.

“Bloody hell.” He curses. “That was a close-”

He’s interrupted by something being smashed over his head. The next thing he knows he hits the freezing cold water below.

//

He wakes up cold. The sun is high in the sky and everything bloody hurts. From his head, to his arm to ever bloody inch of his skin.

He groans at sound above him, buzzing and buzzing.

“...who is he...”

“...ambulance...”

He opens his eyes just a crack. There’s a man, no two of them, standing over him, one has a phone in his hand.

“Sir?” he says. “Are you alright?”

He’s not but that should be bloody obvious.

“Can you tell us your name?” He blinks.

He can’t. He can’t remember...anything.

//

“Killian Swan.” He repeats, now knowing his name. 

Something about the name doesn’t sit right with him. But then again, he doesn’t know what does sit right with him. 

He narrows his eyes at the blonde. “And you’re my wife?” He repeats, looking over the blonde once more. She’s attractive enough, he thinks. But she seems guarded, not at all the warm welcome he expected from a loving wife. Not to mention the obvious waitress outfit she had on. No, no wife of his would have to resort to serving food to make a living. He can’t explain it, but he knows that his life was more than that, it was...he wasn’t sure...

“What the bloody hell happened? Why am I here and why can’t I remember anything?” He snaps impatiently. He has a hundred questions, starting with why he woke up on the beach and why it took him so long to be found. He’s been in this insufferable hospital for hours and-

“Cool it buddy.” The blonde snaps, shutting him down immediately. “Doctors say you got hit in the head, gave you some long term amnesia, probably from falling off the harbor drinking.”

“Drinking.” He repeats. Now that sounds like a fantastic idea...

“How are you feeling?” She asks, her expression softening slightly. But he can still feel walls from his lovely wife.

“Irritated.” He replies. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The blonde crosses her arms. “You have a compass tattoo on your rib cage.” She replies. “A little detail I would only know if I was your wife.” She replies smugly. 

“I do not have a-” He stops short as he lifts his shirt to reveal the exact compass tattoo the woman described. He traces it lightly with his fingers. Ink on his own body that he didn’t recognize. “Bloody hell.” He says in realization. 

“You really are my wife”

#captain swan fanfiction #off the deep end #cs movie marathon #CSMM20

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 22 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Thank you for being patient with our slower posting schedule. We love you so much and we’re so grateful for any feedback! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Everyone survived the Galactica runway show.  

This Chapter: Time for the afterparty! (And after-afterparty, in the case of one couple.)

***

“The Grand Hotel, please.”

“Right away ma’am.”

Katya checked her bag, just to make sure that she had the paper invitation to the Galactica afterparty that Trixie had given her. The Galactica parties were legendary and Trixie’s phone had been ringing off the hook since Pearl had announced on her twitter that the location had been booked.

Galactica had rented out the entire hotel for the party, and they had even booked a selected amount of hotel rooms for VIP guests if anyone ended up partying too hard. By the time that Katya’s taxi pulled up to the curb of the hotel, the paparazzi was there, their flashes and cameras going off again and again as they took pictures of the designers, bloggers, socialites, models and fashion editors who were arriving. Katya took a deep breath, but thankfully no one noticed her.

“Hey sugarbutt.” Trixie smiled brightly as he spotted Katya making her way towards him. She was beautiful as always, but tonight it was like she was glowing, a sight for sore eyes after Trixie had spent three days looking at angry, moody models who never smiled.

The two kissed, and Trixie held out a glass for Katya.

“It’s sparkling cider. Violet found one in the exact same shade as the champagne.” Katya smiled, thankful for the fact that she wouldn’t have to explain herself all night.

“She thinks of everything, doesn’t she?”

“It’s almost freaky.”

Katya giggled and took a small sip of her drink, before flagging down a waiter who was carrying around a tray of canapés.

“So how has your day been?” Trixie had found a bench for them to sit at, so he was now tucked into Katya’s side, occasionally getting a bite or two from the food Katya had collected along with sips of her drink which Trixie liked a lot more than the champagne he had gotten himself.

“Pretty good. One of the kids offered me a cigarette from his locker stash, and said he had more if I agreed to go on a date with him behind the bike shed. Unfortunately he was seven, so I had to confiscate everything; imagine the great romance I killed.” Katya laughed and gave Trixie one of the salmon hors d'oeuvres from her plate.

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, destroyer of hearts.”

***

Courtney stood with Adore and Tati, telling them all about her encounter that morning with Willam. She still didn’t know quite what to make of the boy. It wasn’t the first time she’d been on the receiving end of such eager advances, but there was something a bit off about it. Courtney couldn’t exactly put her finger on it.

“I mean, the roses were really sweet, you know?” she said. “And anyone who likes Sólseturstríðsmenn has to be at least a little awesome, right?”

“Totally!” Adore enthused.

“Eh, I don’t know.” Tati sipped her cocktail. “He sounds pretty creepy to me.”

“He doesn’t feel creepy. Just a bit…” Courtney searched for the right word, but found herself at a loss. “He’s just really different from all the guys I’ve dated before. But like, considering my history, maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I’ll say! Remember we used to call you the Douche Magnet?” Adore laughed.

“Yeah, I loved that,” Courtney told her, grimacing. “And one date can’t hurt, right?”

“Carpe diem, bitch!” Adore agreed, then began waving excitedly to someone over Courtney’s shoulder. “B!”

Courtney turned to see Adore’s sister, Bianca, approaching them. She’d only met Bianca twice before, but of course she knew all about her: how she was one of the most powerful women in New York, how she took care of Adore, basically like a second mother. And how, in spite of being siblings, she was as unlike Adore as night and day.

Adore was tall and lanky, with an easy laugh and charmingly youthful demeanor. She managed to look cool with randomly thrown-together outfits and messy hair that told the world she didn’t give a fuck.

Bianca, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more of a perfectionist. Every detail of her appearance was intentional, from her elaborate updo with not a hair out of place, to the pressed seams on her perfectly tailored designer clothes, the blue dress she was wearing today fitting her like a glove, hugging every curve--another difference from Adore. As she wrapped her arm around her little sister’s waist, Courtney saw clearly just how different they looked, Bianca smaller and curvier, with rounded hips, a tiny waist, and a bigger chest than Adore’s. Much bigger, Courtney couldn’t help but notice, accentuated by her low neckline.

It wasn’t until Adore spoke next that Courtney caught herself staring, a blush rising to her cheeks as she looked up quickly to Bianca’s face, brown eyes staring directly into hers, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she smiled.

“B, you remember my friends, Tatianna…”

Tati grinned, sticking out her hand, thrilled to be meeting the famous editor-in-chief.

“Hi! Omigod, it’s such an honor to finally meet you-”

“Yeah, hi,” Bianca said, giving her a cursory pat on the shoulder, her eyes never leaving Courtney’s.

“...and Courtney.”

“Hey.” Courtney managed a smile in spite of her painfully hot cheeks, praying that she didn’t embarrass herself in front of this important woman.  

“Hi there. I hear you’re working at Galactica,” Bianca said.

“Yeah, about a month now.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.” A thrill rippled down Courtney’s spine. That was the first time anyone who meant anything had implied that what she was doing was something to be proud of. Knowing that she’d made even the slightest impression on Bianca made her feel invincible.  

“You’re in Fame’s office, right?” Bianca’s head cocked slightly to the side, and Courtney felt a little bit of that familiar dread creep into her stomach, praying that she didn’t seem anything other than grateful to be working for Miss Fame.

“Yes. I’m her second assistant.” She forced another smile.  

“In that case, I think we better get you a stronger drink,” Bianca said, with a conspiratorial wink and another flash of those dimples.

Courtney bit her lip. The light shade at her boss made her feel special, almost like they had a secret between them. Bianca was one of Fame’s best friends, but unlike Adore, she was also a work colleague. So it made sense that she had a bit more insight into the way she ran her office. Of course, if Courtney agreed too enthusiastically, there was a chance that she’d ruin this very tentative new alliance, so instead she just giggled charmingly and shook her head.

“That’s okay. I’m still technically on the clock, and I have to work tomorrow, so...better stick with this thimbleful of champagne.” She held up her glass, lashes fluttering.  

“Very responsible,” Bianca said, then turned to Adore and asked, “How is she your friend?”  

“Opposites attract?” Adore guessed.

“Humanity is a rich tapestry,” Courtney added, taking a delicate sip of her champagne as Bianca cackled gleefully.

“That it is.” She held Courtney’s gaze for a few more moments, before noticing someone nearby flagging her and sighing slightly, turning to Adore with an eye roll. “I guess I better go work the room some more. We still on for Saturday?” she asked, giving Adore another squeeze.

“If you’re paying, I’m there!” Adore agreed cheerfully, accepting a kiss on the cheek.

“Perfect.” Bianca turned back to Courtney. “Nice seeing you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Courtney said, swallowing. All this focused attention was making her feel a bit lightheaded.

“Bye kiddos, have fun. But not too much!”

“No promises!” called Adore.

“Byee,” Courtney breathed, watching her leave, a strangely wistful feeling curling in her stomach. She took another sip of her drink, wondering what it was she was feeling...she supposed it was mostly envy, which made her a bit ashamed. As much as she loved her best friend, she had to admit that right now, she couldn’t help but be jealous that she had Bianca in her life, a constant and reassuring presence supporting everything she did. After all, how different would Courtney’s life be if her brother had even a tenth of the influence or respect (or money) that Bianca had? She shook the thought out of her mind, sighing slightly. It was no use wishing for something that wasn’t possible.

She was so buried in her own thoughts that she completely missed the pointed look that Adore and Tati exchanged over her head, nodding distractedly when Tati announced that she was getting another drink.

***

The party was going well. Very well. Violet was leaning against a wall, an empty and clean champagne glass in her hand. She had nicked it from one of the party planners, the women out mingling with the party guests, the only thing singling them out the clear plastic earpieces all of them wore.

Violet was keeping an eye on Fame, her boss looking like a vision in white. On anyone else, it would have looked bridal, but Fame always managed to carry herself with grace, wisdom and dignity like an aura around her.

Violet felt a presence besides her, someone sliding in right next to her, the scent of tobacco and cedarwood catching her nose.

“Hello lovely eyes.”

“Hey,” Violet turned her head, unable to help the smile blooming on her lips, and the sense of pride that settled in the bottom of her stomach.

He leaned in for a kiss, and even though Violet hesitated for just a second, she couldn’t resist the siren call, the fact that she was in public be damned.

“Mmh-” Sutan broke their kiss, a smirk on his lips. Violet smiled, and turned her head. “You look gorgeous.”

Violet had gotten dressed in the bathroom, changing from her daytime look and into something appropriate for a night out. It had been a bit of a struggle, but she had managed, her hair twirled into a French twist that she hoped suited the soft lilac of her dress.

“I could say the same to you.” The praise was an absolute understatement, Sutan looking downright hot in a perfectly fitted suit, an ochre shirt causing his skin to practically glow.

“So-” Sutan leaned back against the wall, apparently more than content to hang out on the edge of the party, no one looking their way. “Have you had a good day?”

Viole wasn’t sure if it was good, trying to predict Fame’s mood when she was outside of the office even harder than normal, but it was Fashion Week, and that meant she could withstand any challenge.

“Yeah, and you?”

“No major emergencies.” Sutan pushed a gentle elbow into her side, and Violet could see the smile on his face. He was obviously teasing her, mischief in his eyes, but Violet also knew how fast things could go sour when models were involved, the girl who had torn a dress thankfully not one of Sutan’s hires.

“Really all we can aim for.”

Sutan chuckled, and Violet felt that heat return, her stomach doing a pleasant flop.

“Can I get you a drink?” Sutan nodded to Violet’s empty glass. She shot a quick glance at Fame, her boss completely caught up in conversation, a bright smile on her face, Patrick at her side, and Violet decided to take the chance, to actually give in to Sutan’s temptations for once.

“I’d like that.”

***

“Well, we’ve done it again!” Raja exclaimed, one arm tight around Raven’s waist as she toasted her friends.

“Cheers!” Raven cried, clinging to her fiancée as everyone clinked their glasses, her hair still smelling like the spray the makeup team always preferred.

It had taken forever to get everyone together in the bar, to take a moment with her nearest and dearest, but as Raja looked around, the hassle had been absolutely worth it.

“Cheers indeed.” Fame giggled, already adorably tipsy on champagne and adrenaline.  “Thank you so much for all of your support...”

Raja took a moment, a little afraid that Fame would start crying, finishing a collection always exhausting her, but she didn’t have to worry.

“Like we have a choice, Blondie,” Bianca joked as she joined the group, tugging lightly on Fame’s hair.

“On a personal note, I’m a little sad that no models fell off the runway or tripped on their hems where we could see them,” said Detox, earning some side-eye from his wife, Juju giving him that warning look before he quickly added, “But I’m super proud of you. Great show.”

Raja smiled, looking around at her friend’s gorgeous faces, before realizing that her brother was nowhere to be found.

Where was Sutan?

***

“Nh-” Violet bit her lip, swallowing a moan as Sutan placed a kiss against her neck, his stumble scratching her in the most delicious way.

She hadn’t seen Sutan all week, his touch just as good as she remembered it, the temptation to fall into him and disappear almost too great to withstand.

If you asked Violet how she had ended up tucked away in a dark corner on the building's patio, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to answer. Sutan had asked if she wanted to go outside, his hand in hers before she had made up her mind. There were people up there, the faint sound of chatter almost reaching her ears, but it didn’t feel like it mattered, Violet completely lost to the world.

“Ah” Violet gasped, her fingers desperately tightening, grabbing the fabric of Sutan’s jacket. “Please-”

“Mmh?”

Violet could practically feel the smirk, Sutan humming against her skin.

“Feels good?”

It felt good, very, very good.

Violet was practically in a daze, Sutan’s touch so very pleasant, but then, she felt fingers on her neck, fingertips brushing her skin as Sutan reached up, up, up.

“No-” Violet grabbed Sutan’s wrist, stopping him inches from her head. “Don’t touch my hair.”

There was still a chance she’d have to be presentable, still a risk Fame would call on her. She had reacted without thinking, Sutan looking at her, and for a minute, Violet worried if he would get mad, but then, he chuckled, his face breaking into a smile.

“Of course, lovely eyes.”

***

Pearl strolled through the party, wondering how much longer she had to walk around engaging in small talk and sipping on weak cocktails before she could leave. One of her friends had tweeted about a new club in Queens and she was hoping to check it out, but she really wanted to go home and change first.

Pearl knew she looked good in her skin tight black dress, but she knew that she’d look even better in the slutty cropped number she had at home.

She glanced at the exit.

Would Fame get upset if she left? She had made an appearance, so what more could she be expected to do?

Pearl made her way towards the door, giving the cursory smiles and waves as she went, when someone caught her eye. Adore Delano was standing with a couple of girls at a cocktail table, gazing at her longingly, cheeks immediately turning a deep red when Pearl gave her a smile in return.

When Pearl first met Adore, she’d seemed so young, and it was easy to dismiss her as a sweet kid. Sure, she flirted harmlessly with her, but nothing ever went beyond that. But the way she was eyeing her up at the moment, Pearl couldn’t help thinking what a fun little adventure she’d be. For all her bravado and tough girl front, Pearl had a sneaking suspicion that she could quite easily be reduced to a whimpering, needy mess.

She approached the group, slipping in beside Adore to say hello.

“Hi, Pearl!” Courtney said cheerfully.

“Hey, Courtney.” Pearl could feel Adore shift beside her, but decided to hold off on giving her any attention for a moment, concentrating on her friend. “People are totally obsessed with that picture of you from Monday.”

“Really?!” Courtney squealed, her eyes lighting up.

“It was cute,” Pearl said, amused by how easily excitable her young coworker was. “We should do it again some time.”

Courtney’s mouth dropped open.

“Sure!” she said.

Pearl then shifted her gaze to Adore, touching her wrist lightly.

“Hi, Adore.”

“Hiii,” Adore breathed. “Um...can I buy you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar,” Courtney pointed out, and Adore elbowed her in the ribs. Seeming to catch on to the situation, Courtney cleared her throat and grabbed the hand of their other friend, saying, “You know what? I need to go introduce Tati to...uh...Max!”

She yanked the girl away, leaving Pearl alone with Adore, fingers still lingering on her wrist.

“So, um…” Adore swallowed. “Drink?”

“I have a better idea,” Pearl said, leaning in close to say, “My friend just told me about a party in Queens, and I was gonna head there now. Wanna join?”

Adore nodded, hypnotized. She threw back the rest of her drink and slung her mini-backpack over her shoulder.

“Thanks for the invite,” she said, lashes fluttering.

Pearl grinned, telling her, “You can thank me later,” and tossing in a wink for good measure.

Adore opened her mouth, but nothing came out except the cutest little sigh. Oh yeah. She was going to be fun.

***

“Max!”

Max turned around, a plate of finger foods in hand. He spotted Courtney, the girl bouncing as she came towards him, her blonde hair now a candy floss pink.

“Hello Courtney.”

“This is my friend-” Courtney pulled someone forward, “Tatianna Santolini. She’s a model.”

Max wasn’t surprised in the least. Tatianna was the perfect height, slim, but not unhealthy, the slight muscles in her arms promising a hidden strength. Her skin was a wonderful caramel, her eyes a lovely hazel.

“Courtney!” Tatianna pushed her friend, a smile on her lips, and Max saw that her teeth checked out too, her smile bright and perfectly in place. “I’m not a model.”

“You’re not?” Max was confused, a girl that was that pretty and apparently also humble in Manhattan a rare occurrence.

“Yet!” Courtney held up a finger. “She just moved here.”

“Ah.” That made a lot more sense. “Do you have any potentials?”

“Potentials?” Tatianna looked like she didn’t understand him, and Max realised that she was really and truly not a model.

“Know what?” Max looked at her. “Let me take your picture. I know someone who’d be very interested.”

***

Adore was in absolute heaven, pressed up against Pearl on the dance floor, the crush of bodies around them forcing them to stay close. They’d taken some Molly when they arrived, and were now blissfully rolling, the electricity of the music pumping through Adore’s blood.

Pearl’s breath against her cheek felt amazing, and Adore rubbed against her, face seeking out the warmth of her neck. When they finally kissed, Adore thought she might swoon, her entire body tingling with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking hot…” Adore said, and Pearl laughed, taking Adore’s face in her hands and looking her up and down.

“Look who’s talking,” said Pearl, and Adore pressed in closer, feeling her knees start to buckle.

What little that remained of Adore’s self-control had dissolved by now, and she gripped Pearl’s waist tightly, hips rutting against her.

“I need you,” she whimpered.

Pearl smiled--a slow, lazy smirk spreading across her face like the cat that caught the canary. “Oh yeah? Then I guess we should get out of here…”

***

Fame bit her lip. Her feet ached, her dress was uncomfortable, her hairstyle hurt and even though she was tipsy, she was cold.

The only thing that made the wait bearable was the fact that Patrick was with her, both Violet and Courtney gone when Fame had felt ready to call for a car.

The Galactica party had gone well, the night living up to her expectations, but Fame was tired, and she wanted to go home.

“Uh! Taxi-” Fame held out her hand, but the yellow car went right by her, causing her to swear loudly.

Before she had realized what she was doing, her Louboutin was already off, Fame’s brain more than ready to throw the shoe after the car, but Patrick wrapped his arms around her.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Patrick laughed and took the shoe from her. Fame blushed, holding onto Patrick so her stocking wouldn’t get soiled on the pavement. “We’ll get the next one.”

***

The way Adore’s breath hitched in her throat as Pearl leaned in to kiss her neck was adorable.

Adore was all puffy lips, heavy eyes and the most buttery soft skin Pearl had felt in a long time. What began as a fun little experiment--how quickly could she reduce her to a whimpering mess--quickly became an even more exciting challenge.

How long could she keep her on the edge, clawing desperately at Pearl’s shoulders, moaning in blissful agony? The way she begged shamelessly, dripping wet all over Pearl’s fingers, was so sexy that Pearl could have come herself.

“Please, please, Pearl…”

Pearl silenced her with a kiss, biting gently on her perfect upper lip, tongue teasing her mouth open.

“Careful, baby...don’t come until I say so.”

Pearl’s fingers slowed, thumb first brushing lightly against her clit, then pressing down on it, making her cry out, hips desperately rocking back onto Pearl’s hand.

“Please, oh God, please.”

“Not yet.”

Pearl smiled and twisted her fingers, working even faster.

Adore was gasping now, little tits bouncing with each breath, purple hair fanned out over the pillow, skin glistening with sweat, and it made Pearl want to lick her all over.

“Hold on, honey,” she whispered into Adore’s neck, “Just a bit longer. You can do it for me.”

Pearl laughed as Adore whined; she loved the power she had when a girl was breaking apart in her hands, even if her arm was cramping and her jaw ached from the two orgasms she had already wrung out of her. Pearl might not be a saint, but she never left a girl unsatisfied.

Adore, bless her, was not going to last much longer. She was tense and rolling her hips to meet every thrust of Pearl’s hand. Her nails raked down Pearl’s back, fingers digging into her ass, panting. As Pearl looked into her desperate, unfocused eyes, she decided to have mercy on her.

“Okay.”

Pearl curled her fingers forward, stroking her g spot, thumb rubbing her clit in vigorous circles.

Adore groaned as she came, hips pumping frantically before slumping against her, still gasping for air.

Pearl eased her fingers out, stroking her gently as she came down, finding the bruises she’d left on her neck and licking them softly.

“Good girl,” she said, chuckling against her skin, damp with sweat.

“Fuuuuuck…” Adore sighed, and Pearl laughed some more, nuzzling into her neck.

Not normally much of a cuddler, Pearl would usually leave right after fucking a girl, but there was something charming about the way Adore immediately wrapped her long arms and legs around Pearl’s body. As she tangled their limbs together, her purple hair tickling Pearl’s nose, Pearl found herself relaxing into the younger girl’s soft flannel sheets. One night wouldn’t kill her.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #trixya #vitan #bitney #adore x pearl #violet chachki #courtney act #raja gemini #bianca del rio #adore delano #pearl liaison #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #miss fame #max malanaphy #tatianna #raven #lesbian au #fashion au #smut

[madamebaggio]

Hot night for Sansa Stark and Arthur Pendragon.

Things just got pretty serious between Rockstar Arthur Pendragon and Pop Princess Sansa Stark. The couple was caught in a very intimate moment during a party at Producer William Hart’s house. Inside sources say they “were all over each other the whole night”, with Arthur introducing Sansa as his girlfriend to his friends. After a few moments in a dark room, the couple retired for the night, clearly for a more intimate moment. 

Chapter 10 

It was Shae’s frantic knocking that woke Sansa up. She had a bad feeling before she even got to the door, because this wasn’t normal. Shae didn’t go around knocking on her door like the house was on fire. Something had happened.

“Sansa…” Shae spoke softly as soon as Sansa opened the door.

“What happened?” Sansa demanded.

Shae just sighed and passed her the tablet. It was a picture of her and Arthur, clearly taken from inside the house. Someone -one of the guests -had found them kissing and taken a picture. They had just kissed, because Arthur was serious about respecting her wishes, and she’d liked him even more for it.

However, she had been sitting on his lap, and -as nobody knew what happened after that -it was easy to assume it had been way more heated that it’d actually been.

And it was what the headline suggested.

“Hot night for Sansa Stark and Arthur Pendragon.”

“Sansa…” Shae called softly.

“Does Brienne already know?” She asked.

“She called me.” Shae admitted. “She isn't happy. She wanted to kill Bedivere, because it was a private party, this shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not his fault.” Sansa sighed. “How about Arthur?”

“He didn’t call me, but he has your number.”

Yes, he did, and if he hadn’t called, something wasn’t right. “I’ll call him.”

***

Arthur had gone out for a long run that morning, and that was the reason he didn’t have his phone and didn’t know what was going on.

However, as soon as he got to his apartment and opened the door, he knew something had happened, because Bedivere was there and he wasn’t happy.

“Arthur…”

Arthur ignored him and went straight to his phone, because if Bedivere was looking at him like that, the chances of it having something to do with Sansa were big.

“Don’t talk to her until I speak.” Bedivere asked.

Arthur paused, the phone in his hand. He could see that Sansa had already called him four times. “Then talk fast.”

“Someone took a picture of you two kissing at the party.”

“How? The curtains were pulled closed.”

“It was from inside the house.” Bedivere admitted.

“What?” Arthur growled. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know yet…”

“Then find out!” Arthur snapped. “This is unacceptable, Bedivere, and not only because of Sansa. Everybody that was invited was a friend, people I thought I could trust.”

Bedivere pressed his lips together, like he wanted to say something, but then he just nodded. Arthur didn’t even bother in continue this conversation -but, fuck, he’d need to apologize later, Bedivere didn’t deserve to be treated like this -he pressed the button to call Sansa.

She answered on the second ring. “Arthur! Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, Sansa, I was running.” He pressed the heel of his hand against his eye. “Are you fine?”

“No.” She sighed. “I hate this. Have you seen the picture? Have you read the article?”

“No, and neither should you. I know…” He pressed when he heard the beginning of a protest. “I know this isn’t…” He sighed. “This is my fault.”

Sansa sighed. “That took a turn. Arthur, it’s not. I don’t blame you, ok? I don’t know if you think I do, but I don’t. It’s just that… After everything with Cersei and Joffrey, I hate to be featured in a tabloid like this.”

“And you aren’t wrong. I hate this too.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll find out who did it, okay?”

She sighed once again. “Ok. Call me.” And she hung up, leaving Arthur with a whole on his chest.

***

It didn’t take long to find out who was responsible for that. Bill had a lot of contacts, and through that they found out what happened.

Rubio -the boy from the comics -had been invited to the party. He took the picture and send it to a friend, and this friend sold it.

The boy insisted he didn’t know his friend would do that, but it wasn’t the point. He took the fucking picture, and this was the main problem. It was such a breach in privacy that Arthur told Bedivere to cancel the comic. He didn’t care if he had to personally pay some kind of fine, if he was sued or whatever.

Even if it hadn’t been a picture of them together, even if Sansa wasn’t involved, this was unacceptable.

And the tabloids were having a field day with it. This was what Arthur hated the most: the supposed ‘close friends’ telling what was happening, people talking about them as if they knew them, fuckers who had the nerves of calling themselves ‘specialists’ evaluating their relationship.

Besides all of that, there were still fans from both sides giving their opinion about it, as if Sansa and Arthur were their property and they had rights to their relationship somehow.

He was so fucking pissed that Bedivere had confiscated his phone, worried that he’d start some sort of Twitter war with everyone.

His bandmates were supportive, and they were also angry about the situation.

And Sansa… After the story got traction and became more than just one picture on a tabloid, she became distant, sending less messages and hardly ever answering her phone. Arthur was getting concerned that this whole circus would make him look like too much trouble to her.

So when he called Shae to ask how things were and she told him that Sansa had gone to visit her parents, he had a minute of panic.

Then he decided that fuck it, he was going after her.

***

Sansa hadn’t meant to run away from the situation. She really hadn’t, and she wasn’t proud of herself.

However, as the days passed and the subject wouldn’t die she fell into a spiral. She started remembering how were things right after she left Joffrey and broke her contract with Cersei, all the people analyzing her situation and giving opinions and saying terrible things about her.

Those flashbacks took her to a dark place: the days when she was convinced she was fat and needed to lose weight urgently, the days when she was worried Joffrey might slap her, but still worried he’d leave her, when she wanted to please Cersei so badly she’d talk shit about her own family.

She didn’t want to run, but she had to. She felt like a mess, and she worried that Arthur would give up on her because of all that. She called her therapist and tried to calm down, but she realized she needed her mother. Desperately.

Catelyn was waiting for her with open arms when she went to Montana. She let her daughter cry on her shoulder.

“You know… I had my doubts about that boy, but…” She gave a resigned sighed. “He doesn’t seem so bad. Why don’t you call him?”

“What if he thinks I’m too much work?” Sansa asked, for the first time voicing that fear.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you.” Cat told her simply. “And I know it’s easy for me to say this, I know.” She insisted. “But you deserve so much love, Sansa. It really hurts me to see you thinking you don’t.”

Sansa had nothing to say to that. She’d worked so much on herself, her therapist had been so good and patient, but she didn’t feel like she was better. She was still running, wasn’t she?

“Sansa?”

Sansa and Cat turned to Ned, who was hovering by the door. “Yes, dad?”

“That Pendragon boy is here.” He told her, like he couldn’t believe it himself.

“What?” She almost fell from the couch.

“He is here.” Her father repeated. “He didn’t come in, he told me he’d wait to see if you wanted to talk to him.”

Sansa looked at her mother. “The choice is yours, darling.” Cat indicated. “But, for what’s worth, he deserves an answer too.”

Sansa sighed and got up, thanking her dad.

Arthur was outside, leaning against a motorcycle, looking so much like the bad boy he was supposed to be, that Sansa couldn’t hold back a smile.

“This is turning into stalking.” She said as a greeting. “How did you find me?”

 He shrugged. “Your sister.”

 “Traitor.” She grumbled, but it was without heat. ‘What do you want?”

 “To give you a ride, Red.” He offered her a helmet. “Hop on.”

She didn’t hesitate to grab the helmet and climb on the bike. If there was one thing Sansa knew, it was that she could trust Arthur.

“I know where we can go.” She offered.

Arthur nodded and drove away. She’d point turns to him, but they didn’t go that far. Her parents’ state was big, but she had a favorite spot.

Once they got there she took off her helmet and climbed off. Arthur did the same.

“I’m glad you decided to see me, Sansa.” He told her honestly.

“I’m sorry I left.” She told him simply.

“I’m not angry or anything. It’s okay that you need space, sometimes I do too.” He told her. “But… If we… If this happens… Can you please talk to me before taking off?”

Her heart stopped for a second. “You still want to do this?”

“Of course I do. Nothing changed, Sansa.” He took a deep breath in. “Unless you’re actively fighting against it. I gave up a long time ago.”

 Sansa snorted. “Can you imagine the headlines? Princess of the Pop and Bad Boy of the Rock?”

 “I honestly don’t care. Do you?” There was real concern in his voice now.

“I’m afraid of disappointing you.” She admitted.

“Why would you?” He asked kindly.

“Because you’re so brave, and I’m here hiding.”

“I’m not brave, Red.” He came closer and picked her hand up. “I’m fucking terrified. I flew all the way here…”

“Rented a bike…”

“I have a reputation to keep.” He agreed smoothly. “Just because I was scared that you were about to ditch me.”

Sansa seemed horrified by the thought. “Me? I thought you were going to realize I’m a mess.”

“Well, you are a mess -a hot one, by the way…”

Sansa snorted, but Arthur didn’t stop. He cupped her face. “But I’m nowhere near perfect. I’m also a bit of a mess. And I don’t care if you need time, if you need space. Whatever you need, if I can give it to you, I will. I want to be by your side. I just hope you want me there.”

“For chrissake!” Her voice was teary. “Why do you have to be so good?”

Arthur chuckled and rested his forehead against her. “I’m not, don’t feed my ego. It doesn’t require help.”

Sansa’s chuckle was a bit watery. “So you want to try?”

“I do.” He told her honestly. “Can we do this together?”

“One condition.” She told him seriously.

“Name your price.” He replied immediately.

“A duet.” She grinned up at him.

Arthur barked a laughter. “You want us to sing together?”

“Yes, and I already have the song.”

His grin became a thing of beauty. “Whatever you want, Red.”

***

Notes: So this was supposed to be the last one, but I felt it’d be too rushed if I kept it that way.

As it has been a looooong while since I updated this, you can check the full work on my AO3 page.

We’ll have a short chapter to close the story and talk about the duet ;)

Also, I used Rubio like this, because he clearly gave the resistance up on the movie, so he’s clearly not to be trusted.

Fine, I might be bitter about that.

#madame baggio #crackship #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #modern au #singer AU #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #Sansa x Arthur #theres no way

[brieflygorgeouss]

things i forgot to tell you (ch. 1 “that there’s no rush”)

It starts like this — they’re having a pity party, as Arthur calls it at one point, and Lucas is getting drunk.

He’s curled up on the couch in Eliott’s living room with his third bottle of beer this night, and honestly, the picture around him looks just as sad as he probably does himself. Basile is moping, half-lying on the floor, the third day in a row after Daphné had broken up with him. Idriss is in the middle of downing another one of his awful drinks. Lucas can hear Yann, Sofiane, and Arthur from all the way in the kitchen, arguing about something, and their voices are just on the side of loud that it’s starting to get on Lucas’s nerves. He takes another swing from the bottle, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then lets his head fall back, stares at the cracks on the ceiling, fails to count them because he’s very tipsy and very tired.

He can’t remember the last time he wasn’t stressed over something. The workload he has to deal with if he wants to pass his classes threatens his sanity on a daily basis. His dad hasn’t transferred him money this month yet, and Lucas doesn’t want to explicitly ask for it because theoretically, he has a job, but he doesn’t make enough to cover all the expenses and then rent, too, so there’s that. His mom has sent him about 20 messages today, all biblical and more cryptic than what he’s used to, and when he tried calling her, she didn’t pick up, which can only mean that she’s been doing worse than usual. He hasn’t been sleeping, really, and the bags under his eyes are starting to look more like bruises than anything else at this point. Mika keeps pestering him about it, which only makes it all worse.

Lucas is doing so great.

He shifts on the couch, the room around him swaying a little like he’s underwater, and then he feels a weight of someone drop onto the couch next to him. Somehow, he’s closed his eyes without realising. When he opens them, he’s greeted with the sigh of Eliott.

”Hey,” the boy says. He smells like cigarette smoke and clean fresh air of the night like he’s been outside and has only now come back in. Maybe he has, anyway. Lucas wouldn’t know. ”You having fun?”

Lucas says, ”A mental breakdown is what I’m having.”

It makes Eliott smirk, but it’s a weak smile, barely there and gone. It’s not what Lucas is used to, from Eliott. ”Like everyone here, tonight.”

He has a point, Lucas thinks. Eliott’s personal reason for hosting their pathetic little get-together is his recent breakup with Lucille. Which, honestly, has happened before, but Eliott claims that it’s for good this time and, judging how out of it he seems to be, there might be some truth to the words. Lucas notices, with a small part of his mind, that the usual spark in Eliott’s eyes is dulled and unfitting. He looks like he’s wearing pyjamas; his apartment is even more of a mess than usual.

”Are you feeling any better?” Lucas asks.

Eliott almost winces this time, then turns straight ahead and stares at the TV at the other side of the room, across from them. It’s turned off. ”Not really, no.”

I’m sorry, Lucas kind of wants to say, but stops himself. Eliott doesn’t like pity, he knows. And anyway, it’s more than possible for him and Lucille to get back together by the end of the week. It’s happened before. They’re that kind of couple, one where they argue a lot but always come back to each other in the end.

Maybe it’s not nice, what Lucas is thinking. He tries to backtrack, sluggishly sorts his thoughts into something else. What he comes up with is, ”Do you want to watch something?”

It’s a stupid suggestion and he only says it because Eliott keeps looking at the black screen of the TV like he’s waiting for it to come to life on its own, and somehow Lucas decides that the idea fits, then. Eliott turns and looks at him. ”Why?”

”You keep looking at the TV but it’s not on,” Lucas points out his thoughts, very intelligently. He trips over the words a little. ”Might as well watch something.”

Eliott looks around the room where Idriss is mixing at least three different liquids in his cup and where Basile is in the middle of gulping down yet another drink while staring at his phone in the half-dark, and appears to come to a conclusion. ”Yeah, I guess. What do you want to watch?”

”Anything but one of your pretentious boring films,” Lucas says. Eliott shoots him a glare and he grins at him because they’ve had this conversation before and Eliott’s fun to tease. ”Whatever’s on TV. I don’t know.”

”Alright,” Eliott agrees, and turns the TV on, and there they go.

*

They end up watching reruns of some stupid talk show, and it’s loud enough to lure Yann, Arthur, and Sofiane out of the kitchen and join them in the room, which quickly just turns into them running a commentary about everything and nothing. Yann confiscates Basile’s phone for, he says, Basile’s own good. Sofiane makes a mistake of agreeing to try Idriss’s weird drink concoction and it makes him cough violently after taking only one sip. Lucas just laughs at it all; Eliott leans more heavily into his side as he does and reaches into his own pocket to light another cigarette.

The night stretches, then lingers into late hours, and then the guys go home, one after another, and somehow Lucas misses the moment when he becomes the only one left in Eliott’s presence.

It’s cool. He’s a little wobbly on his feet but offers to help clean up, and they gather the empty glasses and bottles and go to the kitchen to wash them all. Well, Eliott washes them, anyway, even though he’s almost as unsteady as Lucas at this point, from all the alcohol. Lucas hops onto the countertop next to the sink and watches him struggle through the cleaning process, giggling. The room around him is swaying. He keeps looking at Eliott’s hands, his long fingers, strong wrists, watches as Eliott finishes up and dries his hands with a towel.

The night is warm and comfortable and pleasantly hazy.

”Are you done?” Lucas asks, despite it being clear that yes, Eliott’s in fact finished, because being a little shit is funny. He swings his legs, kicks at the kitchen cupboards. Eliott raises an eyebrow at him.

”What, did you get tired of watching me clean?” he says, stepping away from the sink and closer to where Lucas’s sitting, props a hand on his hip. ”Thanks for the help, anyway.”

”I mean, you hosted the party so,” Lucas shrugs, ”I don’t know what you were expecting.”

He thinks his words are slurring together, a little bit, but he’s not sure. Or doesn’t care, same thing. Eliott looks like he’s fighting a smile, for some reason. It makes Lucas want to smile, too.

”Wow, what a good friend you are,” he says, and Lucas shrugs in response.

”I know, right,” he tells Eliott. The smile breaks out on Eliott’s face, at that. It’s very pretty, Lucas thinks hazily. ”And anyway, you did a great job all by yourself. Not like you needed me.”

He kicks at the cupboards again, just for the sake of it, which makes Eliott reach out and squeeze his knee in an attempt to stop him. Somehow, he’s standing right in front of Lucas now. Lucas missed the moment he moved.

”I’m that good, huh,” Eliott says. His smile looks easy. More than tipsy. Lucas lets his head fall back until it hits the wall, then looks at Eliott like that. The room’s spinning a little less.

”Yeah,” he agrees, kicks the cupboard again. Eliott grips his other knee, too, steady, takes half a step closer. ”The perfect guy, you.”

And then Eliott’s kissing him.

Lucas doesn’t register what’s happening at first. Eliott moves one hand to cup the side of his face, slides the other up his thigh, and he’s warm and solid and he’s kissing him. Lucas’s head swims, and he tangles his fingers in Eliott’s hair on autopilot, kisses him back and they’re drunk and they’re kissing and Lucas only really catches up on what’s going on when Eliott abruptly moves away.

”Shit, I’m sorry,” Eliott breathes out. Lucas’s gaze drops to his mouth and stays there for a second too long before traveling up to his eyes. They’re wide. Eliott’s blinking fast. ”I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that, fuck—”

”No, it’s—” Lucas starts, doesn’t finish. His hands are still in Eliott’s hair; he keeps them there. ”It’s fine. I mean, it’s cool.”

Eliott moves his hand away from Lucas’s thigh, but then his fingers freeze mid-motion. ”It’s cool?”

”Yeah, I mean—” Lucas stutters and he can’t stop his eyes from dropping to Eliott’s mouth again. Everything feels blurry, like he’s looking at the room through fogged up glass, except it translates into a feeling and not a sight. And then he says what he says because he’s stressed and tired and fucking drunk. The thought just comes so he lets it out. ”Don’t you, like, need a rebound, anyway?”

Eliott’s gaze flits all over Lucas’s face like he’s looking for something there. Lucas doesn’t know if he finds it, whatever it is. ”What?”

”Don’t you need a rebound?” he repeats. He wonders if what he’s saying sounds stupid. He can’t tell. ”That’s the best way to get over someone, right? And fuck Lucille, anyway. What was she thinking, breaking up with you like that, like why did you even—”

”Lucas, what—” Eliott starts and then hiccups, suddenly. His hand lands back on Lucas’s thigh. Lucas wonders, absentmindedly, how much has Eliott drunk tonight. ”What are you saying?”

What is he saying, really? Jesus. He can’t stop fucking looking at Eliott’s lips. ”You can say no if you don’t want to, I’m not gonna be mad, we’re friends,” he assures, rakes a hand through Eliott’s hair, pushes it out of his eyes. Eliott doesn’t stop him, just keeps looking at him. ”And it’s not like I’m offering just because, or whatever, I’m just saying that I could use a distraction myself, I’ve been fucking stressed, dude, and clearly there’s something in this for the both of us, and since I don’t think I completely disgust you because you’ve just kissed me, right, so yeah—”

Lucas is faintly aware that he’s babbling, but he doesn’t really care. Is he making an idiot out of himself? Maybe. But Eliott moves his hand up to his thigh, looking like he’s not even aware of it, and then he’s saying, ”Fuck, damn it,” and then Lucas is being kissed again, Eliott muscling his way between Lucas’s thighs, and they’re full-on making out in Eliott’s tiny kitchen. Time goes wobbly — Eliott licks into Lucas’s mouth and swallows whatever faint sounds Lucas makes, and they keep kissing and kissing until Lucas snakes a hand under Eliott’s t-shirt and Eliott tugs him off the kitchen counter then, mutters, ”We’re out of here,” in between kisses and Lucas only breathes a ”Yeah?”, lets himself be pulled to Eliott’s bedroom.

He ends up face down Eliott’s rumpled sheets, later, swallowing down a moan as Eliott pushes in and then biting his lips when Eliott starts to move and when muffling his whimpers in the bedding when they get gradually louder. Eliott holds his hips down, builds up a rhythm that has Lucas shaking within minutes, quick, shallow thrusts that make Lucas’s skin crawl with need and drive him up near the edge embarrassingly quickly. It’s that and the alcohol, he tells himself, a thought barely there in the haze of his mind, and then Eliott snaps his hips up, faster still, and Lucas barely has enough time to moan out a choked off ”I’m gonna—oh—” and barely catches the sound of Eliott’s punched out groan before he comes into his own hand, trembling.

Eliott follows him closely after, grip tightening on Lucas’s hips as he comes, and he lets himself slump onto Lucas for only a couple of seconds before he catches himself on the bed and carefully pulls out, then gets rid of the condom.

Lucas flops onto his back, shakily, breathing unsteady. He thinks, oh God, and then, for good measure, Jesus. He listens to his own breathing. Focuses on getting a grip on his erratic heartbeat. Eliott just kind of sits on the bed next to him for a while, sounds a little out of breath as well. Lucas’s head swims.

”You can take a shower if you want,” Eliott says after a while, a hitch from exertion still there in his breath, but not as prominent. Lucas turns to look at him, squinting slightly.

”I should go home,” he says.

Eliott rolls his eyes. Lucas faintly notes the colour high in his cheeks. ”Don’t be ridiculous, it’s 3 in the morning. There’re no buses until at least 6.”

”I can walk back home.”

”I’m not letting you walk back home alone in the middle of the night,” Eliott says, then reaches down and grabs his boxers off the floor, puts them on, stands up. Lucas just blinks at him. ”Go take a shower. You can sleep on the couch and walk back home in the morning, alright?”

Lucas blinks again and his eyes stay closed for longer than a blink should last, he thinks. His heartbeat is almost back to normal now. Eliott’s bed is soft. ”Eliott, it’s fine, I’ll just go.”

”I’m serious,” Eliott says. He looks very tall. It’s not fair. ”You can go home as soon as the sun rises if you want to. Okay?” And then, not really waiting for Lucas’s answer, Eliott walks out of the room, saying, ”The couch’s pretty comfortable, you’ll see.”

So yeah. Lucas goes to take a shower.

The stream of water sobers him up a bit, but his limbs feel heavy. He watches the bubbles of soap go down the drain, swirling, and as the shower door fogs up, his mind clears a little. He stands under the spray until he gets tired of it, then shuts the water off. Eliott has left him a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt by the sink. Lucas feels strangely grateful for the uncalled gesture, even if he has to roll the pants because they’re too long.

He stumbles out of the bathroom to find Eliott padding out of the kitchen with a glass of water in hand.

”For you,” he says, putting it on the low coffee table near the couch. ”We’re both going to be dying of hangover in the morning.”

Lucas almost winces. ”Yeah, God,” he says, and it makes Eliott grin. ”See you in the morning, then, I guess.”

”Goodnight,” Eliott says, and goes to his room, and that’s that. Lucas turns off the light, flashes his phone’s flashlight to not walk into any piece of furniture as he stumbles back to the couch, then gets under the blanket. The springs in the couch squeak whenever he moves, but he melts into the cushions anyway. He’s tired and heavy. Still slightly tipsy, probably. Sleep, surprisingly, comes easy, for once.

His last thought, before he drifts off, is, I hope it doesn’t get weird between us.

*

It does not, in fact, get weird between them.

Lucas wakes up feeling disoriented and a bit like he’s dying, gulps down the glass of water standing on the coffee table, and only then realises where he is and why. His first thought is fuck. His second thought is sweet motherfucking Jesus Christ, I slept with Eliott.

Which — it’s mortifying. He closes his eyes as the memories flood him, and he can feel his face getting red, because what the fuck was he thinking? Why the fuck did he offer that? He will never be able to look Eliott in the face again, oh God. Their friendship is fucking ruined.

Or, so Lucas thinks. But when he drags himself, miraculously, up from the couch and out of the living room because he feels like he might die if he doesn’t get himself another glass of water, he finds Eliott in the kitchen, cooking something on the stove. Eliott turns at the noise Lucas makes by the door and his first reaction is to smile.

Lucas looks at his face for one millisecond before turning his gaze away, thinking, what have I done.

”I didn’t realise you were up already,” Eliott tells him, and he sounds like he always does. ”I made breakfast, if you want some?”

Lucas stares at the ground, then at his — Eliott’s — rolled up pyjama pants. He makes a non-committal, a neither-here-nor-there noise in response, and Eliott fucking chuckles.

”Half-dead to the world, I see,” he says. ”The breakfast’s not much, but I hope it’s not gonna kill you off completely.”

Lucas doesn’t— know what to think. Eliott turns back to the stove and Lucas lifts his eyes to him then, feeling so out of it it’s ridiculous and silly and confused and—

And Eliott sounds like they didn’t fucking sleep together last night. He's acting like he didn’t kiss Lucas right here in the kitchen, like they didn’t stumble to the bedroom afterwards, like Lucas didn’t offer to be his goddamn rebound after he’d just broken up with his girlfriend. He’s acting like Lucas stayed over because he missed his bus, or because they stayed up too late talking or some shit, not because they had sex. He’s acting like he doesn’t remember.

Doesn’t he remember?

Lucas shuffles to the table on autopilot and sits down heavily and his mind is reeling at such high speed that he actually startles when Eliott puts a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him.

”Um,” he says, and his voice sounds like the Sahara desert would sound if it was audible. ”Thanks.”

Eliott sits across from him, and when Lucas dares to look at him, very, very quickly, he seems—completely normal. A little disheveled, okay, and messy from just getting up, but other than that, completely fine. It’s both unnerving and relieving to see when Lucas is about to have a breakdown himself.

”Did you sleep well?” Eliott asks.

Lucas wants to say, I am about to burn alive from all the shame I’m feeling. He also wants to say, do you remember what happened? Do you remember that we slept together? Do you remember when you kissed me, here in this room, and when we went to your room and fucked?

Instead, he says, ”Your couch sucks.”

He watches as Eliott’s face scrunches up in a laugh, and relief starts to ease his nerves at that, shyly. Surprisingly, too.

”Still better than walking back home at 3 in the morning, if you ask me,” Eliott tells him, and shit — so he does remember. He has to, if he remembers that he said it, after. He remembers but chooses not to mention it, then. Acts like it didn’t happen.

It leaves a little bit of a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, but Lucas— Lucas can roll with that.

”I would’ve been fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. Eliott raises an eyebrow.

”Well, fortunately, you didn’t have to test that theory,” is his reply. ”Which, no, you don’t have to thank me for, you’re welcome.”

Lucas lets himself smile a little. His nerves are boiling down to embers, now, even if the strange feeling is still there. It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine. ”Yeah, well, anyway,” he says, ”do you have coffee?”

So. They don’t talk about it.

Later, Lucas changes out of the makeshift pyjamas he’s wearing and back into his own clothes and looks around the room for this phone while Eliott makes fun of his morning bedhead. Lucas brushes his teeth with a spare toothbrush he finds in Eliott’s bathroom, stares at himself in the mirror for a second too long but chooses to ignore it, then puts his shoes and jacket on, pats his pockets down to make sure he still has his wallet, and goes. As he leaves, Eliott waves at him with a small smile on his lips, saying, ”See you soon, yeah?”

And as Lucas scrambles down the steps and then hurries to the bus stop, he thinks, it’s fine. They didn’t talk about it, but it’s fine. Maybe it's for the better, actually.

Not like it’s going to happen again, anyway.

#if this flops im deleting #skamfr #skam france #elu #elu fic #skamfr fic #my writing #im.....embarrassed to post this bye #td #every time i post something i wrote i feel like such a fool oh god

[iseulcwu]

TASK 1-1 : THE MISSING FILES

BASICS

name: kwon iseul ( iseul meaning “dew” in korean )

dob: july 28th, 1999

nicknames: seul

western zodiac sign: LEO SUN ( there's an unmistakably regal air to solar leos. these are dignified — even noble — folk. leos have a reputation for being conceited, ), CAPRICORN MOON ( because they generally keep their emotions under check, moon in capricorn people come across as competent people. however turbulent their emotions may be under the surface, lunar capricorns keep cool-headed--and they come across as steady and reliable people ) and LEO RISING ( leo rising people cannot help but be noticed. they radiate a special energy and magnetism that gets others' attention. sometimes it's due to a regal manner that simply demands interest from others )!!

lunar zodiac sign: rabbit ( quiet, elegant, kind, responsible...pfft )

blood type: ab+ ( these people are complicated and can have dual personalities like they can be shy like A type as well as outgoing like B type. they try to keep their true personalities from strangers, thereby making most believe that they are a mixed personality. it is hard to decode these people until you know them thoroughly )

eyesight: nearsighted, but predominantly wears contacts, glasses are reserved to the comfort of her dorm room — her prescription is - 2.50 L and - 2.00 R. 

piercings: both ear loves ( three times ), a helix and forward helix on the left ear, a surface tragus and daith on the right.

tattoos: on her upper arm ( the right one ) she has a few flowers, tied together by rope. these flowers are a gladiolus ( meaning strength ), a wax flower ( for lasting love ) a ranunclus ( for radiant charm ), and a protea ( for courage ). on her left side ( over her ribs ) is her name iseul going down vertically, and horizontally ( one letter from her name coinciding with a letter from each of these ), she has a few lines of words from philosophers, the first being a quote by ralph waldo emerson, which reads “the infinitude of the private man” one by friedrich nietzsche which reads “there are no facts, only interpretations” one by jean-paul sartre that reads “condemned to be free,” and the last line is one from socrates which reads, “i know that i know nothing”. 

what type of clothes do they wear: out of uniform, iseul covers herself in color ( if the bright orange hair is any indication; an infraction she refuses to correct ). she likes to experiment with the clothes she wears, melding comfort and art together into a style that is iseul’s and hers alone. silk tops paired with mom jeans or tailored sweats, oversized button-ups, tucked into black skirts. the girl knows how to dress her body and is not afraid of trying things that others may be afraid of.

religion: deist ( belief in a ‘clockmaker god’ — that is to say, iseul believes there is a higher power, but is unsure if this higher power has a form )

allergies: pollen and cashews

PERSONALITY

are they introverted or extroverted? an ambivert — iseul is something of a chameleon, and shines in the company of others, but she doesn’t mind being alone, and sometimes she just needs to get away from others. there are so many fake people who still surround her, and it just gets to be too much.

what are their bad habits? ignoring people whenever she sees the need. it may not be for any reason other than iseul doesn’t feel like talking to you anymore; incessantly tapping her pencil on her desk; if she’s bored ( be it in conversation, or class, or whatever else ) she’ll just open a book and zone out.

what do they like to do in their free time? cultum has a gym ( thank all the gods ) and iseul has been using it for solo baseball practices; she doesn’t play for a team anymore, but she still loves the sport. if she’s not doing that, she studying ( i know, it defeats the purpose of ‘free time’, but she’s a double major ). and if she’s not studying, or reading some book about socrates or hume, then she’s doing other things to pass the time ( if her roommate is gone for a few hours ).

what is their greatest fear? allowing herself to feel once more; it’s a complicated situation, but she has maintained this dull version of her emotions for so long and is scared of the true weight of both happiness and sadness as well as everything in between.

any guilty pleasures? you’d think it were sex, but no. it’s me-days; an empty dorm, a bubble bath, some american jazz and a few candles ( maybe even her trusty buddy ), paired with the cheesiest most romantic movies netflix or hulu have to offer. oh and let’s not forget plushy toys — her bed has about five at the moment

pet peeves: chewing loudly, and people who have no concept of boundaries or personal space ( in reality this may be just about anyone who tries to get a little clo.se to iseul, but she’d rather not ).

what is their favorite song and why? treat me bad, k. will and hwasa — she feels as if the song speaks to her, and the lyrics “please trample on my heart and any small hope so i can stop wanting you,” are very representative of who iseul is as a person.

who would be the first person they’d call if they were in trouble? in theory, it would be seungcheol, the gentler and much older man she had first slept with. the man was dependable, if not much else. in practice...her dad, honestly. even though their relationship is very strained, he is the one man she’d turn to. 

EDUCATION

where did they attend before cultum university? inchang high school, one of the oldest private high schools in seoul.

what were after school activities they did back in high school? iseul has been taking violin class since she was very young; on mondays, wednesdays and fridays, she could be found in the music room, practicing for a concerto. tuesdays and thursdays were for basketball practice. in addition, iseul was one of the few students to have an added class before the start of school that focused on college preparation.

what is the most impressive award/merit they received? second place in the isang yun competition for violinists — was critiqued heavily for a perceived reservation in her performance; although it was operationally a perfect performance, there was a lack of emotion and as such the music felt lifeless and robotic.

what is their current favorite class? her philosophy of mind class; the course description is: materialism, rather than solving the problem of mind, consciousness and intentionality, has spawned numerous philosophical perplexities. this course will examine a variety of philosophical problems associated with contemporary models of the mind ( mind/body dualism; mind/brain identity theories; behaviorism; functionalism and artificial intelligence; eliminative naturalism and folk psychology; biological naturalism ). the course will also look at contemporary philosophical accounts of personhood and personal identity, particularly narrative accounts of the self.

aside from their current club, what is another they’d like to join? the violin club if there was one...or some club about debating different philosophies.   

what kind of job are they hoping for once they graduate? she would love to go into something along the lines of environmental ethics ( or continue her education ), but it’s most likely that she’ll become the new president/CEO of her father’s company, hence the economics double major and business management minor ( her father told her, she could virtually study anything so long as she also studied what he wanted her to; and this is also a way to keep her busy and from indulging in bad habits ).

name three items that were confiscated from them at the beginning of the school year: her cellphone ( at her father’s request, she is only allowed supervised access to a phone twice a week, and she may only call family or close friends within her age-range ), a limited-edition copy of vladimir nabokov’s the annotated lolita ( this was deemed profanity by the cultum administration ), and finally one of those fill-in books called burn after writing, which comes with a pack of matches stapled to the front ( not that she was going to do so, but any flammable items are frowned upon ).  items that were almost confiscated include her laptop ( although she has limited internet access ), a glass water bottle, and a blank journal. items that went unnoticed but would have been confiscated include the vibrator and bottle of lube in her violin case, and a copy of anne rice’s belinda with a faded cover.

FAMILY

do they have any relatives that are alumni? both her paternal aunts ( twins ) are cultum alumna, and it seems that attending the college was able to set them on a path that iseul’s grandparents deemed appropriate.

do they have any siblings? are they close to them? nope, she’s an only child. 

what is their role in their family? iseul floats in limbo; she is neither child nor parent...more of an acquaintance to her parents. her father is as fatherly as time allows, but she was mostly cared for by the help; many dinners were had alone, and the house was lacking in life.

#soemi:task #long post so under read more < #3

[misstring]

Kaboom! pt1/2 (Tim Drake x Reader fanfiction)

Reader Gender: Female

Warning: Violence, Kidnapping, Violence, Bombs

Synopsis:Kaboom goes the bomb. But that's not all. There are people out to get the CEO of Wayne Enterprises but they don't do their research and have no clue that Timothy Drake is the CEO. Also, there are mentions and descriptions of violence but I already said that.

10 seconds left. My mind racing, my heart pumping, and my hands shaking. Adrenaline shoots through my body, while I try to find a solution. I fumble around as I hear laughing around me.

5 seconds and I still haven’t broken through the cage. It was right in front of me. Barely outside my reach. Infuriated, I scream out as I try once more in reaching for the bomb. My finger brushes against the side but without anything to hook onto, I could not pull it in any closer.

3 seconds. Time started to move slowly as I had no other choice but to accept it. I take a weighted container containing my will and the memory chip from my video camera and chuck it as far as I can, hoping that it is out of the blast range.

2. I sit down, wanting my last moments to be in peace, at least.

1. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in.

“Kaboom!” Tim shouts as the screen flashes white then to the familiar static.

“Tim!” I yelled as I rip off the VR set. “What the heck? You told me I would have my utility belt in it!”

“Did I?” Tim questions, laughing as he resets the program.

“Do you want proof?” I ask, taking a seat next to him, as I start to pull up the security footage from the gym.

“No, no. I remember,” Tim says, still laughing as though it was the funniest thing he has ever experienced in his life. “But,” he composes himself, “for the gala. You won’t have the belt. You’re wearing a dress that won’t have pockets.”

“Pockets?” I incredulously ask. “You’re talking as though women clothing ever had pockets in the first place.” I stretch my back, leaning my head back onto the chair.

Tim gets up from his chair, “You aren’t going to do anything about it?” 

I smirk as I already had plans for revolutionizing women clothing.

“Oh, I see. You already have something planned.” Tim says smiling.

As silence falls in the room, I take the time to admire his chiseled countenance. His face gets closer and I feel something warm on my forehead.

Tim turns to leave as I realized what he did. “Wait!” I say as I try to get out of the chair in such haste that the surprised floor gave out from under me and the chair followed me to the ground.

“I hope you don’t have too many problems with editing the security footage so Big Bats doesn’t find out.” Tim says not even looking behind him, knowing full well of what happened behind him. “See you in a bit.”

“Tim,” I whine out, as he leaves me alone in the batcave. I sigh and turn back to the computer and quickly clip the piece of video out and seamlessly edit in a video of us two sitting at the computer for a couple more seconds before Tim gets up to leave. I save the file, leaving no other traces, on my flash drive.

Finished with my work, I leave the computer on standby as I leave the cave.

It was unusually quiet in the manor. Not one single person walking down any of the halls, at least from what I observed. I walked quickly to the guest room, not wanting to stay within the abnormal halls for any longer.

After a couple hours of trying to get my outfit together. I walk out of my room and find the halls to be lively once more. Damian was grumbling under his breath as Bruce confiscated all of the visible weapons from him. Dick was making sure not a single hair on his head would go out of place, even after a couple of flips, which he did in the middle of the hall. Alfred was on the phone with someone, making sure all of the preparations were made. And Tim? Tim was perfect. His tense expression relaxed as soon as he took a deep breath in and calmed himself down. From the way his hands shook a little, it was more than obvious that he had one, or two too many cups of coffee.

“Mr. Wayne,” I say, but because he was preoccupied with scolding Damian, he didn’t respond. “Mr. Wayne,” I repeat to no response. “Bruce,” I switch, hoping to catch him off guard.

Tim notices and signs to call him ‘dad’.

I smile and comply. “Dad,” I call out.

He immediately looks over and asks, “What is it?” not even questioning the fact that I called him dad.

“What is this gala really about?” I ask.

“Social responsibilities. And to show the new Wayne technologies that would improve Gotham,” his mind starts to catch up and his eyes widen, “Did you just call me dad?”

“Yes. Do you mind? I will stop if you do.” I put on an innocent smile.

“No. No. I don’t mind. After all, you are basically part of the family after joining us in the vigilante work.” He goes back to scolding Damian before I could say more.

Alfred ends his call. He and Bruce looks at each other, synchronized and Alfred nods. “The cars are ready. There may be attempt of assassination along the way.” Alfred says before giving each of us a communication earpiece that was hardly noticeable to anyone not looking for it. “I will be giving updates as you go.”

“Thanks Alfred.” Bruce then turns to us, “Alright kids; Damian with me and Dick, Tim, and (Y/n) in the other car. Jason will be attending the gala as a security guard because he is still ‘dead’. Any questions? None? Let us go.”

“Are Babs, Steph, and Cass going to be there too?” I ask, not wanting to be the only girl going.

“Barbra and Stephanie are covering patrol for tonight and Cassandra is still in Hong Kong,” Tim says as we start walking down the steps. “I’ll be besides you the whole night. There will be nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dick says as he gets into the passenger seat next to the driver.

I slide in next to Tim in the back. 

“What do you mean?” Tim questions.

I giggle as I realize what Dick was implying. Tim looks at me quizzically. I start laughing and motion that I’ll tell him later.

Tim nods and looks back to the front and pulls out his phone.

I take out mine out as well to find that Tim was texting me.

Tim: You look great in that dress.

Me: Thanks, handsome!

Tim: What was Dick on about?

Me: With that amount of caffeine, and what caffeine does…

Tim: What? What do you mean?

Me: Boy, you’re going to end up having to use the restroom sooner or later. Caffeine does that. I thought you knew already.

Tim stays quiet and puts his phone down as he looks out the window. I hear a soft ‘idiot’ under his breath.

“(Y/n), that dress looks great on you,” Dick says, breaking the silence in the car.

“Thank you! And you’re always looking dashing in a suit,” I say earning a light laugh from him.

“Are you sure you want to say that in front of your boyfriend?” Dick asks while lightly chuckling.

I resist the urge to turn my head towards Tim. “What do you mean?” I force out, as calmly as I could.

“Aren’t you two going out?” Dick questions.

I blindly text Tim.

Me: Sid u rell him?

“No!” Tim yells out, scaring me and making me toss my phone up into the air. “Sorry, (Y/n). Are you alright?”

I nod as I try to calm down my heart. My mind racing with questions and trying to figure out if there was anything obvious we did that may have clued him in.

“Why do you think that?” Tim asks in a much calmer voice.

“Oh, it was just (Y/n) seemed more comfortable with you and visa versa.”

I internally sigh and Tim answers, “She’s one of my best friends.”

“Ahem,” Alfred says from the earpiece. “There is an unknown vehicle that has been following for a while. It seems as though they have guns and are not afraid to shoot.”

“Which car?” Bruce asks.

“Master Dick’s,” he says.

The air in the car tenses up as we all go into alert and prepare for gunfire. 

“I recommend evasive maneuver 4, as there is some space between the vehicles.”

The driver nods and cuts in front of the car next to us, causing the car’s driver to flip us off, mouths moving, presumably shouting profanities at us. But that didn’t matter to the driver as he swerves into a right turn and then another left, weaving in and out of cars making another left and another right.

“The car crashed into an automated street cleaner,” Alfred announces and we all visibly relaxed.

“We are almost there,” the driver says.

I tuck my tools back into my dress, making sure it wasn’t noticeable and I turn to Tim to see him fix his tie and jacket again. The driver safely gets us to the location of the gala and Alfred warns us about potential snipers. We prepare ourselves before heading out behind Bruce and Damian onto the carpet. Cameras were already flashing and I was glad for the sunglasses. Reporters tried to get past the guards as they shoved mics in our direction. When they failed to get through, per normal, they resorted to shouting questions above the camera shutters and each other. Their individual voices were lost within each other but the sound was overwhelming. Bruce smiles through the whole thing and so does Dick and Tim. Damian keeps a straight face as I tried to keep calm through the entire walk. Hoping the cameras didn’t catch my clenched jaw as I closed my eyes and allowed Tim to guide me to the door where we stood for a bit as the paparazzi and newspaper photographers took more pictures.

I tried to crack a smile. Opening my eyes to a red laser on Tim’s chest.

I pull Tim towards me as the reporters simultaneously gasped with the sound of the bullet hitting the carpet. 

“Did it hit you?” I entreated while looking for any blood or wounds. I hit press the button of the communicator, “There’s someone at a building that would be in view of the entrance. Judging from the angle the bullet that hit the stairs, it seems to be from the 24th story of the skeleton of a building. There aren’t any cameras in the building itself but there are definitely cameras around the building. Bold of them to use one of my buildings.” I whisper just loud enough for the mic to catch my voice.

“Understood,” Alfred confirms.

Tim stands up straight and looks at the bullet hole in the carpet before addressing the news reporters with a light-hearted joke about almost dying. Bruce just gives him a stern look and we all enter the building.

In the lobby, the security guards check our ID’s and biometrics for identification. We were also subjected to go through metal detectors. Because most of us were using Faraday lined bags or pockets to hold our weapons, nothing was caught.

After checking in our overcoats, we went up to the floor of the gala.

As soon as we entered, people by the door stopped talking and looked over, smiling as they realized it was Bruce Wayne and his entourage of children and wards. People swarmed around and Tim put on his acting smile, as do the rest of us, except Damian; Damian kept a straight face.

It was going to be a long night.

“Please welcome Bruce Wayne,” the announcer announced jovially. 

I hear a small gag that was buried among the applause and I look behind me to see Jason. I give him a small wave with a smile. He nods back and I turn back to Bruce’s monologue.

The lights flicker and people start to whisper. Tim grabs my hand and I felt Damian tense up. Dick stayed calm, but upon closer inspection, he had his hand in his pocket reaching for something.

“Is there anything wrong?” I hear through the earpiece. 

“Nothing is showing up on the computer.” Alfred responds. “I will be inspecting it, immediately.”

Tim tightens his grip as he shifts in his seat. I excuse myself from the table to go use the restroom. I know I should stay, but without proper access to the weapons, I felt more vulnerable. I whisper to Tim about where I was going and get up to leave.

As I enter the restroom, the lights completely black out and I go into a stall and lock it while getting out soporific darts for protection. My glasses switch to night vision mode and I cautiously make it out of the stall.

“(Y/n), where are you?” Jason says outside of the restroom door.

“Here,” I say as I emerge from the restroom, still prepared to attack when given a means to attack. 

Jason sighs in relief as soon as he sees me and offers me his arm. I loop my arm through his and he escorts me back to where the rest of the Waynes were. Tim comes up to me and brings me into a tight hug as Jason goes back to his position.

The emergency generators finally kick in and the room lights up in an eerie yellow hue. Security guards file in and an announcement is made to calm people down. But not knowing what happened was causing more panic. Tim holds my hand and I also grip his hand as tightly as I could.

People break in through the windows. All chaos ensues.

I try and move to help the people near the windows but Tim tugs at my arm, stopping me from going any further. I stay next to him but as one of the intruders took the mic, my blood went cold.

“Ah, ah. Is this working?”

One of the guards signal for the mic to be cut off.

“I would like to say a couple of words. All we want is Ti–” the mic cuts off with a loud screech. I wince at the sound as do many others around us.

“Oh! You just made a bad mistake!” He shouts once the sound subsides. He gestures to the other people and two of them grab someone from the crowd and he points a gun to her head.

“All we want is Tim Drake! Is Tim Drake here?” He shouts.

Unfortunately for him, not many people know that Tim Drake is attending. Fortunately for us, Tim is going to be safe. I take my hand out of Tim’s grip and smile before walking up to the front, towards the stage.

“He was unable to attend today as he had an emergency business meeting in Hong Kong. I was to speak in his stead.” I say when I reach within hearing distance of the man. “Let the poor woman go.”

He starts laughing and says, “Okay, okay. I never expected someone to come so willingly.” He looks over to the captors and says, “Release her and detain her.”

The captors shove the woman down the stage and I catch her before she falls and ask if she was alright. She was terrified and shaken. She nodded and hurried to her business group.

They shove my arms roughly up my back and tied it with something. Pain shoots up my arm as they tie is tightly. Something cold is pressed up against my back.

He laughs again and shouts, “You are all free to go! Interfere with our exit and she is dead.”

“Wait! I’m Tim Drake!” Tim shouts.

He looks at me, but I put on a confused face.

“Is this true?” he growls.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Jason asks through the earpiece.

I shake my head. “Tim’s in Hong Kong. Ignore him.”

One of the other people cocks a gun and points it at Tim. All I see is Damian tackling Tim down as the gun goes off. During my stunned silence, the one moment I lost my guard, I was knocked out.

——--To be continued...

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #timothy drake #dc #fanfic #dc fanfic #batman #batfamily #red hood #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #damian al ghul #robin #red robin #wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily fanfiction #violence #guns #bombs #explosion #kidnapping #cassandra cain #barbra gordon #batgirl #oracle #stephanie brown

[uniewaznic]

        ❝ Phone’s for you, ❞ Scott says almost as soon as the door clicks closed.

        ❝ Hey, Stiles. How was work, Stiles? Did you catch any bad guys, Stiles? Did you confiscate another zip and get high after work again, Stiles? ❞

        ❝ Don’t joke. ❞ Scott’s expression shifts from a momentary look of frustration to one of devout concentration as he drops something fine and green on top of buttered slices of French bread. His phone is balanced between his ear and shoulder, and his teeth are bared as if the grit of them will help his precision. ❝ Okay. I sprinkled the parsley. Now what? ❞

        Oh, no. Ohhh, no, Scott is being given another cooking lesson. That can only mean one person is on the phone right now. Stiles begins his retreat backwards, one hand fumbling for the doorknob blindly. ❝ You know what? I forgot, buddy, I can’t do dinner tonight. I forgot that I have to take my dad to the doctor’s tonight; he’s having cholesterol problems again, you know how he is. Anyway, we’ll have to reschedule for, like, next week or maybe even-- ❞

        ❝ Yeah, he’s right here. ❞ In the time it has taken Stiles to finally make purchase with at least the frame of the door, Scott has come around the kitchen counter and crossed into the adjoining living space of his small apartment. Suddenly, without his consent ( Scott, come on, you of all people should be the type to ask first ), the phone is being pressed to Stiles’ cheek and he is left having to clutch at it when Scott pulls his hand away.

        ❝ Stiles. ❞

        ❝ Ally! Heeyyyyy. Uh. How’s it goin’? How’s Louisiana? You perfecting your beignet recipe? I always thought it could use some work. ❞

        ❝ My beignets are impeccable. You ate the entire batch when I made them for everyone at Christmas. Before the werewolves, Stiles. ❞ She doesn’t sound as amused as the recap implies and Scott has become decidedly unhelpful if the deliberate view of his back is anything to go by, but Stiles laughs anyway. It is a nervous sound, a little high and a lot unattractive, and no amount of throat clearing fixes the pitch. Through the static of the call, he hears Allison sigh. Oh, no. ❝ Have you at least texted her back? At all? ❞

        ❝ Who? ❞

        Another sigh, though a little less tired and a lot more exasperated. ❝ You both are the worst. Do I really come off that stupid? I know she’s a genius and you’re...you, ❞ his exclaimed disdain goes ignored, ❝ but I’m not an idiot. Stiles. Why won’t you text her back? ❞

        ❝ I’m hanging up now. Great talk, as always. Really love these conversations with you. Truly the highlight of my week. You know I’m a cop, right? Like, that happened, much to everyone’s surprise. I know the ins and outs of the third degree. I knew the ins and outs before I became a cop. Anyway, hanging up. Saying goodbye. Don’t call back. Scott is mine for the rest of the evening, so don’t-- ❞

        ❝ Are you done? ❞

        ❝ Yep. ❞

        ❝ Stiles. I’m going to tell you something very obvious. ❞

        ❝ Here we go. ❞

        ❝ You’re an idiot. ❞

        ❝ There it is. ❞ In the kitchen, Scott is pretending not to be listening in on the phone call with his wolfy spidey senses, but Stiles can see the slight shake of his shoulders from his chuckles and scowls deeply at the back of his best friend’s head. ❝ Is this, like, the whole you broke my best friend’s heart and now I have to kill you spiel? Because I have to tell you, Ally, it could use some work. ❞

        It pulls a laugh from her, which makes him smile because it is always gratifying to make Allison laugh. ❝ Oh, Stiles. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. ❞

        Now, Scott does a terrible job of hiding his laughter with a coughing fit. The coaster Stiles picks up from the coffee table and flings across the room smacks the side of the alpha’s neck and, when he turns to glare, Stiles is offering a tasteless hand gesture. ❝ Noted. I’d be dead by now. Anyway. ❞

        ❝ Anyway, you should text her. ❞

        ❝ Why should I text her? ❞

        ❝ Because you want to. ❞

        There is a long moment of silence. Stiles meets Scott’s eyes across the room and reads the empathy there loud and clear. The tattoo on his arm peeks out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt ( I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now to make it kind of a reward. / For what? / For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to. Even when it was so hard not to sometimes. ). He wonders if Scott still feels a little torn open, a little broken-hearted. A little like bleeding, even though he can talk to the woman he loves when he wants to now. He wonders if he still feels that open wound. Stiles lifts a hand to his chest, rubs at the hard bone of his sternum, and swallows thickly. ❝ I do want to. ❞

        ❝ But you’re afraid. ❞

        ❝ Yeah, ❞ Stiles whispers, like he is too ashamed to admit it. The high rose hue of his cheeks would indicate that he is.

        Allison hums, something empathetic in the soft note. Stiles wants to ask her when she has ever been afraid of anything. He has never known her to be anything but brave, this girl who runs with wolves, who tames and loves them too. ❝ Do you want me to baby you, Stiles? Because I can do that. I can coddle you and it will do absolutely nothing for everyone involved. ❞

        ❝ You could go back to ignoring me. ❞ Allison inhales sharply, stung, and Stiles sees Scott wince. ❝ Fuck. I’m sorry, Ally. Allison? I’m sorry. I know why you-- ❞

        ❝ I could baby you, ❞ Allison continues, determined and strong and brave, so fucking brave, ❝ or I could be real with you. Choose wisely. ❞

        ❝ I don’t think I have a choice. ❞

        ❝ You do have a choice. You always do. It’s just that you’re really good at choosing the wrong one. ❞

        He never knows when he is pacing anymore until he stills, so ingrained in him is anxious energy that it is more than second nature. Stiles slows and finds himself facing the translucent reflection of his own face in the large window overlooking the street where his jeep is parked outside. There is something tired and ancient in the look of him, aged, and his eyes look supermassive and dark as they blend into the shadowed night sky. Stiles breathes out slow and tries not to think about how much he hates what he sees. ❝ Do your worst. ❞

        ❝ You’re being a coward. You have wanted her for so long and the minute you had her, you turned around and ran the other way. Because she wasn’t what you wanted or she wasn’t the way you thought she’d be. Because you made her into what you wanted in your head, but the reality didn’t fit the dream and it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough. You’re an asshole for that, too. She was more than pretty and she was more than smart and it scared you. Just like it scared Jacks-- ❞

        ❝ Fuck you, Allison. Jesus Christ. What the fuck? Are you seriously going to compare me to that dickhead? ❞

        ❝ Are you seriously going to tell me that you don’t? ❞ Stiles’ silence is loud and telling. There is movement on the other end of the line and he thinks maybe she has taken a seat somewhere. Scott is no longer in the kitchen when Stiles can’t stand to face his reflection anymore and he is grateful that he is not witness to the tears that cling his lashes together. He would take that blame needlessly, as he is wont to do, and Stiles is too hurt, too raw, too open wound to handle it. ❝ I know you’re nothing like him. Stiles. You’re nothing like him. ❞

        ❝ But I left her, too. ❞

        ❝ She knows you’re nothing like him either. ❞

        ❝ I tried not to be.❞ Stiles manages to knuckle one tear away, but the rest trip down his cheeks. ❝ God, he-- He made her small and I just wanted her to be bigger. I wanted her to be bigger and she needed space for it, Allison. She needed more space. She wanted more space so she could be bigger. I don’t want to make her smaller. ❞

        ❝ She can have space to be as big as she wants, Stiles, but she wants you in her orbit, too. She didn’t push you away. You ran from her. ❞

        ❝ But not because she wasn’t enough, Allison. Not because of her. ❞

        ❝ I know that. Does she? ❞

        The slow fold of his body into the couch is crumbling in nature. It feels like exhaustion in the way he slots himself into the cushions; it feels like hiding, it feels like open maw and crawling into the jaws of something. Counting teeth always risks a bite, but Stiles would welcome that pain if it would distract the drowning in his lungs or the ache in his chest. ❝ I can’t text her now, Ally, ❞ his voice is trembling. ❝ I can’t. Not now. She stopped. She won’t-- She doesn’t-- ❞

        ❝ She does. She will. She would. Stiles, she already forgives you. ❞

        It should amaze him that she has found the root of him and yanked it out to the sun’s gaze, but she is good at taking terrible things and dusting off the grime of them. ❝ She shouldn’t. ❞

        ❝ Maybe you’re right. But she has. ❞ A pause. ❝ And so have I. ❞

        Anguish is familiar, just as familiar as guilt, and both hit him so hard, he thinks for a moment that he has tumbled off the couch. It leaves him dizzy with the taste of grief, with the loss of so much, even after all this time, and Stiles presses his lips thin, closes his eyes tight. Her words, soaked in meaning, are medicinal, but he does not swallow them. Not yet. Instead, Stiles says, ❝ Okay. ❞

        Allison sighs for the third time. This one sounds only tired. ❝ You’re not going to text her, are you? ❞

        ❝ I’ll think about it. ❞

        ❝ You’re an idiot. ❞

        ❝ So you’ve said. ❞

        ❝ I guess I should let you get to your little date night. Don’t let Scott cook the pasta. He will burn it. ❞

        Her voice has gone deliberately lighter and he is glad for the subject change. His cheeks are starting to dry, but the tightness in his throat has not yet abated. ❝ When are you going to come back home and have your own little date night, hmm? I could be persuaded to give him up for a night. ❞

        ❝ Good night, Stiles. ❞

        ❝ What? Come on! You made me sit through all of that and now that we finally get to the good shit, you’re going to blow me off? Allison. Allison! I may be shit at my love life, but you and Scott-- ❞

        The line goes dead.

#lydstm #drabble tbt . #canon tbt . #this is so goddamn long #lena i am so sorry for this absolute PIECE OF GARBAGE #i hyped it up too much #but anyway can we at least agree that allison argent is the best thing to ever happen ever amen