#and then strongly dislike getting toweled off when they come back in

[quatregats]

I feel like there is a definite uptick in wanting to see Hornblower suffer for people who've read past Beat To Quarters/The Happy Return. Like I think you can't get past the original trilogy without thinking that he should squirm a little bit for his crimes

[redhoodieone]

Destroyed by Him

A/N: Hi everyone! This isn’t a new fic, but I’m posting it again since the link isn’t working. Hope you enjoy it again!

 “What the actual fuck, Y/N?”

That angry, hateful but with passion voice belongs to none other than Jason Todd. He must have just come back from patrol, and while he usually returns home hungry and in a good mood (if patrolling went well), this was a different side of him I wasn’t entirely used to.

Given that I haven’t been very close to Jason, I’ve heard of his standard behavior many times. When he meets new people, he’s more guarded, more snippy and likely to become a big asshole. And when he’s around the people he’s closest to, he’s more friendly, sarcastic at times, and even a dork when it comes to his favorite literature and weapons.

And the fact that Jason knows me well enough to cuss me out for being alone with Dick is surprising. He’s never shown favoritism with me since he’s so close to Barbara, Stephanie, and Cassandra.

Jason’s always there when Barbara needs a hand on her patrol.

Jason’s always supporting Stephanie with her on and off again relationship drama with Tim Drake.

Jason even holds Cassandra on the couch during their “bonding” time. Jason would either read a worn-out book of his, or watch TV, while Cassandra naps on his lap.

The thing is, Jason is only a lovable dork who gives big, tight teddy bear hugs to girls he’s closest to.

I’ve seen the hugs. I’ve seen him hold other girls. But I’ve never been embraced by him before.

And the one time I could have used his help was when my ex-boyfriend Kyle was stalking me on campus late one night.

I even forced myself to call Jason for help (since Alfred was in London, Bruce was in Metropolis helping Superman, and Tim and Damian were on team missions).

But Jason was far too busy fooling around with Artemis, who was currently on his new Outlaws team.

Ever since then, I always thought the hotheaded former Robin strongly disliked me. I mean, I never knew why so I always just ignored it and ignored him.

But here Jason Todd stands with a violent scowl on his face; judging Dick and I every passing second.

Who gives him the right to judge me? No one, that’s who!

“What the hell are you yelling about? I’m not doing anything that should affect you or have you concerned about me,” I say, sounding as strong and tough that I can. Maybe not so much...

Jason laughs; his laugh is deep and full of mockery. His eyes warn me of how disappointed and angry he is with me.

“You’re not doing anything that should affect me or have me concerned about you?” Jason repeats, as he comes closer to Dick and I before he’s barely touching me. “You sound too honest about it. But lucky for you, I can smell liars when I see them.”

“Jason, just back off. Okay? Leave Y/N alone,” Dick warns him.

“How can I back off knowing Bruce fucked her on the counter, and knowing she gave you the wildest blow job in your life? How can I also forget how you just finger fucked her, and not taste that sexy pussy you have complete access to?” Jason demands. Now he’s pissed off and he’s shouting violently with rage in his eyes.

My eyes widen at him. “B-but why are you so pissed about it? You don’t even like me, so why the fuck would you be pissed off about all that?” I challenge him.

It’s like everything in Jason Todd snapped. All rational thoughts have been tossed to the side, he sets his Red Hood helmet down on the counter hard; beside the used paper towel with Bruce’s cum, that has yet to be thrown away.

“You think I don’t care about you?” Jason whispers, he sounds as if he can’t believe me.

“I don’t think. I know for a fact that you don’t like me. And guess what? I don’t like you either,” I snap. I can’t believe I just lied to Jason. Of course, I like him! He’s...fucking Jason Todd; Sex God.

And the most adorable nerd in the entire world.

Jason scoffs now. He bites his bottom lip, before his body relaxes and loses the built-up tension.

“Okay Dickiebird, get the fuck out of the kitchen. Now.”

“Jason, just stop and calm down,” Dick says, as he tries reasoning with him.

“I said to get the fuck out of the kitchen, Dick, or so help me God, I’ll shoot you in your kneecaps and you’ll be on bed rest for the rest of the year,” Jason threatens viciously.

Dick signs and shakes his head. “I’ll be in the living room,” he whispers to me, before heading out and leaving Jason and I alone.

At least Dick will be in the living room; not too far away from me in case Jason shoots my kneecaps instead.

Jason exhales deeply, before he faces me once more.

“You wanna know how I can smell liars, Y/N? I can still smell your arousal. You’ve cum how many times now? Two? Three? Not at all, or what?” Jason asks curiously. He tries to get closer to me, but I back away until my lower back hits the corner of the counter and I fall onto the floor, in excruciating pain.

He smirks and looks down at me. I groan at my injury and wonder what’s he trying to accomplish right now.

“Fuck...I don’t know how the old man and Dick didn’t want to eat your pussy. You smell so good. You smell good enough to eat right now, baby girl. I bet you taste so fucking good. I wanna taste you so bad...” Jason moans. He quickly unbuckles his belt and zips his pants to stroke himself through his black boxers.

“J-Jason...what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Y/N? You’ve never seen a guy stroke himself in front of a fucking beautiful girl before?”

“Y-you think I’m beautiful?” I ask softly.

Jason quickly drops to his knees, parts my legs, and settles in between them. He sits me up, despite the aching pain behind me, and forces me to look into his hypnotizing eyes. His pupils are dilated; and I can tell his breathing is harder than before.

“I know you’re beautiful, doll. I-I was just being a dick as usual, since...I don’t like letting people into my life. I don’t want to bore you with how I’ve been abandoned, have trust issues, and don’t necessarily know how to...care for people the way they care about me,” Jason admits, and sheepishly looks away due to his lack of confidence. He’s always doubted himself, and always put himself down compared to Dick. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I like you so much that I thought if anyone had a chance with you, it would obviously be Dick. I mean, have you seen me? I’m not exactly ‘best boyfriend material’. I sleep with a gun under my pillow for fuck’s sake!”

“Hold on Jason. No one’s talking about me having boyfriend right now. Let’s just go to the living room and talk there, okay?” I suggest.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Y/N. You see, I already have you beneath me, with your stained panties on, and your legs already open for me.”

“I don’t think we should be doing this...” I begin, before Jason interrupts me and slams his lips against mine.

Our lips together match like puzzle pieces. Jason’s tongue is dominate in my mouth as well, but his lips are soft and caress against mine. Who would have thought Jason could be such a great kisser?

Jason hastily pulls away from me; revealing our long, spit strand between our mouths. We’re both breathing hard now.

“If you don’t think this is a great idea, then why are you grinding against me to feel my cock, Y/N? Oh, baby girl, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I wanna taste you so bad, and maybe if you’re a good girl who lets me eat you out so good, maybe I’ll even fuck you better than my old man and ass-kissing brother. I’ll show you how to properly scream my name, beg for me to make you cum, and want me even after our fun,” Jason vows, before he pulls my yoga pants and panties down in one swift movement. The second my glistening pussy is exposed to him, Jason glances up, and grins evilly. “Now, be prepared for your pussy to be destroyed by me.”

[cali-holland]

Defying Gravity- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anon: tom x reader where she's having her Broadway debut as Elphaba in Wicked? thank youuuuuu

Prompt: Your Broadway debut as Elphaba in Wicked makes you come to terms with your feelings for your best friend’s brother.

Word Count: 2400

Featured Songs: As Long As You’re Mine  ~  No Good Deed  ~  Defying Gravity

Warning: Swearing

A/N: musical people please don’t come @ me for this, i love the music for wicked but i’ve only seen it once on youtube

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“Just for this moment, as long as you’re mine, come be how you want to, and see how bright we shine, borrow the moonlight until it is through,” You held out the long note as you continued to work around the kitchen, putting away the dishes.

“God, Harry, did you have to get such an annoying best friend?” Tom groaned, walking into the kitchen in search of some lunch.

“You’re just jealous you’re not on Broadway.” Harry laughed from his spot at the island, taking a bite of his sandwich. You flipped Tom off, continuing to sing your song loudly, just for him.

“And know I’ll be here, holding you as long as you’re mine,” You sang, finishing off the song. “Fuck off, Tom, I need to keep my vocal chords in good shape.”

“Yeah, yeah, vocal chords.” He rolled his eyes, getting himself a sandwich.

“Sorry, I just forget you don’t realize how tasking it is to be in a musical.”

“Excuse you, I was in-”

“I swear if you say-”

“Billy Elliott.” Tom said smugly.

“You seriously cannot compare your ballet musical at 14 to Wicked on Broadway.” You said, making him scoff. Harry just laughed to himself, enjoying his front row seat to yet another fight between you and Tom.

You had been friends with Harry for as long as you could remember, and, for as long as you could remember, you had hated Tom. Okay, maybe not hated, but you strongly disliked him. You two had always been extremely competitive with each other; whether it was a friendly football match that turned into you aiming the ball at his balls after he cheated or him kicking you while you played video games with him and Harry after you’d killed him off, everything was a competition. He seemed to do everything in his way to inconvenience you, and you did it right back to him- which included him crashing some of your dates and you ruining his flirting attempts with other girls. When he went off to become a famous actor, you managed to start landing a few roles at the West End, which then became playing Elphaba in Wicked on Broadway.

And the rivalry between the two continued into your careers. Mainly because he made musicals seem so trivial (“you’re just dancing around on stage” “that’s rich coming from Billy Elliot”), when you argued that they were much more difficult than films. In all reality though, Tom knew you were right because you had to memorize an entire script and stage setting without ruining the whole musical, and there were no reshoots in musicals.

Your apartment lease ended just as you got the Broadway role, so you needed a place to stay for a couple weeks before rehearsals began. Harry was more than welcome to let you stay at his place, which also meant living with Tom for the time being. Your best friend was the only thing that made it bearable.

“Okay, okay, stop. Tom did a musical, Y/N’s doing a musical now. Done.” Harry said, finishing his sandwich and standing up. “Y/N, when do rehearsals start?”

“Two weeks, but my flight’s next week.” 

“Thank God,” Tom mumbled, making you roll your eyes at him and you turned back to your friend with a smile.

“Will you be out for opening night?” You asked.

“Of course. I’m not missing your Broadway debut. Catch us in the front row.” Harry smiled proudly.

“Us?” His brother questioned.

“Yeah, mum got all of us tickets already.”

“Your mum’s the sweetest.” You replied, touched that she had gotten tickets for your big show already so far in advance.

“What if I don’t want to go and see you play dress up as the good witch?” Tom piped up. Harry sighed while you let out a groan.

“I’m Elphaba, you dipshit.” You said, but you could tell that meant nothing to Tom. “The Wicked Witch?”

“Oh, perfect for you.” He laughed.

“Whatever, I’m leaving.” You stepped out of the kitchen to go shower, leaving the two brothers there.

“Do you not realize how big of a deal this is?” Harry questioned his older brother, who simply just shrugged. “Not only is Y/N starring on Broadway, but she is playing one of the hardest roles in a musical. Think about how big of a deal it was that Far From Home passed a billion, that’s how big this is for Y/N. She was there for you at the London premiere, too, so the least you could is be there for her opening night. That or just get over your annoying crush on her.” Harry shook his head at his brother before exiting the kitchen.

Tom pouted and finished eating his lunch alone. Making his way upstairs to his room, he paused in his path when he heard you singing from the shower in the bathroom.

~~~

“One question haunts and hurts, too much, too much to mention. Was I really seeking good, or just seeking attention?,” You sang powerfully, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around your body. Looking around the bathroom for your change of clothes, you continued, “Is that all good deeds are, when looked at with an ice-cold eye? If that's all good deeds are, maybe that's the reason why, no good deed goes unpunished,” You let out a small sigh, realizing you’d forgotten your clothes. You opened the door and jumped in surprise, seeing Tom on the other side of the door.

“What the fuck?” You exclaimed, pulling your towel tighter around you. Tom froze like a deer in headlights, his ears and cheeks turning pink as he realized you stood only in a towel.

“Were you singing in there?” He asked, shaking his head a little. “Is there a talk setting or do you just sing everything?”

“If I sang everything, that’d be an opera.” You deadpanned.

“What was that song you were singing?” He asked, making you raise your eyebrows at him in confusion. It wasn’t usual for him to make small talk with you, especially when you were all but naked.

“”No Good Deeds”.” You stated. “Why do you care?”

“Sounded depressing. Do you always sing sad shit in the shower?”

 “Were you listening to me sing in the shower?” You questioned, and he just scoffed, rolling his eyes, before walking away.

“Weird.” You muttered to yourself, even more confused by his behavior than you had been.

A couple days later, you were packing and getting ready for your move to New York. Most of your stuff had remained packed from when you moved into Harry’s house a couple weeks ago, but now you had to do the last few things before your big move across the Atlantic. With the Wicked soundtrack from Spotify playing in the background, you sang along to the music while kneeling and packing your clothes up.

“I really hope you get it, and you don’t live to regret it, I hope you’re happy in the end, I hope you’re happy my friend,” You paused your packing, holding out the long note, not noticing Tom, standing in the doorway.

“Damn.” He said quietly, making you jump and immediately pause your music.

“Do you need something?” You asked, slightly out of your breath from the intensity of the song.

“No, just- I’m impressed.” He replied, “I didn’t realize you could sing like that.”

“How the hell would I have gotten this role if I couldn’t sing?”

“Harry said it was a hard role. I didn’t actually think it was. I thought it was more of a little white lie to make it seem more impressive.” Tom explained.

“Why would Harry lie to you about the magnitude of this role?” You looked at him quizzically.

Tom came further into your room and casually sitting on your bed, “You gonna finish the song?”

“I’m sorry, you want me to keep singing?” Your jaw dropped from his words. Never had you witnessed him being so interested in you or musicals before.

“Well, yeah, gotta keep your vocal chords in good shape, right?” He replied with a shrug and a smile.

“Alright, it’s just the end, so it’s loud with a lot of high notes.”

“Go for it. If I’m going to be there front row on opening night, might as well get a sneak peek.” He laughed. You turned back to packing, still glancing at him suspiciously out of the corner of your eyes. You started your music again to continue, it picked up tempo for the big ending.

“So if you care to find me, look to the western sky! As someone told me lately, "Everyone deserves the chance to fly!" And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free, to those who ground me, take a message back from me, tell them how I am defying gravity! I'm flying high, defying gravity! And soon, I'll match them in renown, and nobody in all of Oz, no wizard that there is or was, is ever gonna bring me down! Bring me down! Oh!” You finished the song and looked over to Tom.

“Shit, that’s a high note.”

“This is probably the most nerve-wracking song.” You admitted.

“You’ll be great. Don’t worry.” Tom smiled proudly at you from your bed, making a strange feeling of butterflies hit your stomach. Maybe you didn’t hate him after all.

After that, Tom didn’t talk to you much. There were no arguments between the two of you, which Harry was grateful for. It wasn’t until the night before you left that you really talked to him again- or well, the early morning before. With the alarm informing you it was already 3 AM, you groaned, knowing your nerves weren’t going to let you catch any sleep. You slid out of your bed and made your way into the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway, not expecting to see Tom rummaging through the pantry.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Nerves are keeping me up.” You sighed.

“You’re going to do great on Broadway. You’ll be the next Idina Menzel.” Tom smiled at you reassuringly before grabbing out a box of cookies from the pantry and eating some.

“Oh, so you know who Idina Menzel is now?” You teased, taking a cookie for yourself.

“Well, I realized I was kind of being a dick about the whole thing so I looked it up, and,” He paused momentarily, letting out a shaky breath, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” You smiled, “And you were being a dick, but I wasn’t really helping either.”

“Is this our form of a truce?” He asked with a laugh.

“Guess so.” You nodded. You leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room with a short, “Good night, Tom.” and leaving him to wonder what just happened. Going back to bed, you smiled, still not even really understanding your actions- you just really wanted to kiss him.

~~~

You didn’t see Tom again before leaving for New York, which just made you even more concerned about opening night. You’d already arranged with Harry to go out with him and his family immediately following the show for a celebratory dinner. Over the 8 week period of rehearsals, you’d come to terms with your feelings for Tom- you didn’t hate him, you were in love with him, and that scared you. You didn’t know how he felt about you at all, and you just hoped that the dinner would go smoothly.

While on stage, all the nervous thoughts of opening night and of Tom went away as you acted and sang your heart out; you really felt like you could defy gravity. After the show, you washed away all the electric green makeup and changed into regular clothes. You smiled, receiving a text from Harry ‘We’re at the side door’ complete with a smiley face. You rushed out of the theater and were immediately wrapped up in your best friend’s arms.

“You killed it! I’m so proud of you!” Harry gushed happily. 

“You were amazing!” Nikki smiled, hugging you next. Dom, Paddy, and Sam were next to congratulate you. You smiled, feeling bashful from all the kind words. Your breath caught in your throat when your eyes finally landed on Tom.

“You came.” You teased.

“It seemed like a dick move not to.” Tom joked as you hugged him. He whispered quietly in your ear, “Idina Menzel’s got nothing on you.”

“Not true, but thank you.” You laughed, turning back to Harry, “Where we going for dinner? I’m starving.”

Harry beamed, telling you about this great burger place he’d found on Yelp. As the seven of you sat down at the restaurant, Nikki spoke up to you about the musical.

“I have to admit, “Defying Gravity” nearly made me cry. You sounded so wonderful.” She enthused, making you blush.

“Yeah, that was definitely my favorite part.” Tom admitted with a small wink.

“You crushed it with “No Good Deeds”, just all of it. I’m so proud of my best friend, you’re gonna be a Broadway star.” Harry smiled, pulling you in for a side hug.

“Thank you. I got a whole year of doing this, so I’d hope tonight was great.” You joked. Once the celebration had ended, you hugged all of the Hollands goodbye on the curb of your apartment complex since they had to get back to their hotel.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up.” Tom told his family, nervously shifting his weight on his feet. You curiously looked between him and Harry, and Tom raised his eyebrows at his brother, seemingly trying to get the younger one to encourage them to give you two some space.

“So,” You started, waiting for Tom to begin a conversation now that his family was a decent ways away.

“You really were incredible out there.” He stated and you nodded, beckoning him to continue. You leaned in a little, hopeful he’d get the hint and make the move. After a moment of him just smiling and staring at you, you rolled your eyes.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” You asked. Tom’s hand came to your cheek, cupping it softly as he pulled your lips to his. He continued to kiss you passionately until you breathlessly pulled away with a small sigh.

“I should get back to the others.” He said, disappointment clear in his voice.

“Probably.” You laughed lightly. Tom kissed you one last time, before pulling away from you.

“Good night, Y/N.” He smiled, turning around to walk back towards his family, who were all conveniently waiting a couple blocks down.

“So you finally kiss her?” Harry asked his older brother teasingly once that reunited.

“Maybe.” Tom replied, but his slightly swollen lips and apparent blush on his cheeks gave it all away. He was definitely defying gravity.

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 19

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___

This had never happened before. Logan’s ears rang and his heart beat faster than he had ever seen someone running in his whole life. He had noticed before that sometimes he reacted quite strangely in Remus's presence but it had never been like this. Or had it? Had he just now realized how strongly Remus’s smile, his happy face, and laugh lines around those tired brown eyes made him feel?

Patton next to him felt inexplicably hot. He knew the feeling far too well. Too often he had fallen for it and made a fool out of himself. But seeing the gentleness in Remus’s movements as he petted the cat, the caution he showed with himself as he held her, he could not stop himself but be taken by him. And Mrs. Snuffles? Remus Segura Reyes had called this white fluffy cat Mrs. Snuffles? How was he supposed to not fall for him?

Regardless of what the two men were feeling at the moment, they both knew it was not the moment to address this. Janus finished bandaging his nephew and Remus got back up from the floor.

“I really wanted to fix him up myself. Sorry to inconvenience you, JJ. Also, Ro, you can come out of the corner. The blood is gone,” Remus announced and in a quite agile twist Roman turned out of the corner and marched right towards his brother.

Remus instinctively pulled Mrs. Snuffles closer to his chest as Roman pointed at her and said in a finite tone: “We will not keep this animal! I refuse to keep her in this-”

“I’m living here too and I say we’ll keep her! Basta. Now, Virgil,” Remus interrupted his brother and promptly turned towards Virgil, who tried to keep a straight face through the brothers’ dispute, “you wanted to check her over before, right? We couldn't finish but maybe you could tell me how to do it and I check her instead?”

“We can certainly try. Let’s get her on the table,” Virgil agreed and walked towards the table.

“StoP! You will get a towel! We just bought this table and I’m not having her making scratches on it already!” Roman exclaimed agitated and stormed in front of his brother.

Remus raised his eyebrows and halted quite unimpressed. With a shrug he handed the cat to Roman and walked towards the bathroom where they had the towels. Meanwhile, Roman fumbled with Mrs. Snuffles in his arms and cursed a few times under his breath as the cat lady adjusted herself to sit comfortably on Roman’s arms. When she had finally found the perfect position and Roman stopped his cursing for a second, she looked him dead in the eyes and opened her mouth as if she wanted to meow.

“You have to unmute, monster,” Roman said in a huff and carried her to table as Remus came back and put a towel on top of it.

Slowly Roman lowered her onto the towel and helped Remus keeping her from jumping off the table. Virgil stood next to Remus and told him to check if he could find any bruises under her fur and calmly guided him through the check. And as they were done, Mrs. Snuffles turned out to be a rather healthy stray cat to Remus and Virgil’s relief.

“I still would advise you to take her to the vet and get her neutered, checked properly and chipped. It’s just safer,” Virgil told Remus.

Remus nodded and put Mrs. Snuffles gently on the floor. The white cat pressed herself against Remus’s legs and fondly circled him as Remus asked Virgil: “Who’s close? What vet would you recommend?”

“Let me write it down for you,” Virgil said quickly.

Remus instantly looked around for a notepad and after a few moments he handed one to Virgil. He scribbled down a name and address and explained to Remus that he knew this vet very well that they were very competent and that he should tell them that Virgil had sent him.

Meanwhile Roman only half listened to the two and eyed Mrs. Snuffles walking around. After a moment Roman’s focus shifted towards Patton and Logan, who were still standing awkwardly around and then to Janus, who was sitting on the couch. They shared a look and Roman gave him a slight smile before he noticed that Janus’s left leg was shaking a little. Roman tilted his head and furrowed his brows as he walked towards Janus and sat down next to him. A few moments passed and Roman watched Janus’s face. Saw that his jacket was wrinkled strangely and that there was a little sweat about his brows.

“Are you alright, Jan?” Roman said unusually subtle.

Janus blinked. The gentleness with which Roman had just said his nickname sent a shiver down his spine and he had to catch himself before he could give him an answer.

“I am perfectly fine.”

Roman furrowed his brows a bit more.

“Does your leg hurt? It seems like you’ve overexerted it?”

Subconsciously, Janus put his hand on his leg and stroked it a few times calmingly. It was not a strong pain, but in Janus’s world pain had to pretty severe that he would acknowledge it at all. After all, he always was in a low level of pain as soon as he put weight for too long on his left leg.

“Don’t worry,” Janus said easily with a grin. “Running is not the usual for me and if I can sit down for a few minutes I’m gonna be okay. No need to treat me like a porcelain figurine, honey.”

Janus watched how the edge of Roman’s lips twitched up and listened how he lightly laughed. Tenderly, Roman lifted his hand and nudged Janus in the side, the amusement slightly fading and care taking its place.

“Understood. But if I can do something to lessen your pain and struggle, tell me. Just because you can take it, it doesn’t mean you should have to,” Roman said and then stood back up looking for Mrs. Snuffles.

Janus just watched how Roman walked around, how his eyes searched for the white furball and felt oddly at peace. It was hypocritical of Roman to tell him to not keep suffering just because he could bear it. But the sentiment was nice and Janus knew that Roman was serious and it was hard to do as one preaches.

Meanwhile Remus and Virgil were talking about the vet and what Remus would have to get for their new fluffy roommate. They only stopped when they heard Roman exclaim a euphoric: “Eureka!”. Confused they turned to look over to him and saw how he picked up Mrs. Snuffles from the floor.

With a determination in his eyes Roman asked Virgil: “So, is it bad to bath a cat or can I do that?”

There followed a moment of silence.

“She slit open my arm when I tried to lift her,” Virgil said eyeing Roman in disbelieve.

“Your point being?”

“Dude, she’s probably gonna rip you apart.”

“But she would be clean and not sully our furniture.”

Flabbergasted Virgil stared at him before he told Roman: “You can bathe her if it doesn’t stress her out too much, I guess? But she will most likely not enjoy it?”

“Neither will I. But I rather have her clean,” Roman announced and walked towards the bathroom to bathe a stray cat.

___

Mrs. Snuffles proved herself to be a lot less of a demon when one of the twins handled her instead of literally anyone else. While she had been less than pleased being washed in the bathroom sink, she neither hurt Roman or Remus and just meowed horribly while Remus told her in squeaky voice how good she did as Roman suspiciously gently washed the poor thing.

After that they blow-dried her to which she also had no complaints. Actually, she seemed to oddly appreciate the warmth of the blow-dryer and only hit it a few times in a playful manner.

Virgil had overseen the whole situation, while he had ordered Patton to go to his and Janus’s flat to get cat food. Janus and Logan were tasked with preparing a makeshift food corner for the night before he would equip the twins with whatever they needed the next day. Now, he watched Remus settle down with Mrs. Snuffles on the couch as Roman checked in the kitchen what Janus and Logan had prepared for the cat.

“Rem, let her down and get some food. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” Virgil told Remus and he did as Virgil instructed.

Roman just had filled the makeshift feeding bowl with the food Patton had brought and Mrs. Snuffles found her way into the kitchen within seconds and started eating eagerly. The men ended up standing all in the kitchen, Remus serenely staring at the cat eating so calmly, Roman looking mockingly annoyed but nevertheless watching her.

“I need to tell you that you act like every single father, who begrudgingly got into the store with his kid to get a cat or dog, only to come back a month later to buy treats and gush over the new furry family member.”

Roman promptly turned to look into Janus’s smug face, and grunted offendedly.

“I beg your pardon!” Roman said and gesticulated wildly almost hitting Logan next to him, who barely managed to duck away. “I have reasons to dislike this foul creature!”

“Oh, I am certain you do,” Janus said smoothly and Patton and Virgil suppressed a laugh at Roman’s agitated face.

“She broke into the store today!” Roman called out ignoring the amusement of the others. “Seven times! And threw over several pots! I always threw her out and she kept coming back until four pm. Then I thought she had given up but then we closed the store got up here and I started making dinner, Remus got into the bathroom to shower, when we suddenly heard a loud thumb, which turned out to be the orchid we kept on the coffee table!”

“Oh, the orchid didn’t have enough light there! We would’ve had to put it somewhere else anyway,” Remus argued not even looking to Roman and crouching down as Mrs. Snuffles stopped eating and turned back to him.

Happily, Remus swooped her up again when she pushed herself against his legs and walked past Roman and the others back to the couch cooing over his little animal friend. Roman followed Remus and the other men left the kitchen as well. Logan was so free to sit down at the dining table, Janus joining him shortly as Patton and Virgil kept standing and observed Roman pacing around and Remus having fun petting his new cat.

For a few moments Virgil just kept looking before he walked up to Remus, trying to stay out of Mrs. Snuffles field of view. When he was behind her, he snapped his fingers and looked if she reacted to the sound. She didn’t. So, Virgil walked up a little closer and told Remus who was about to address him: “Don’t acknowledge me for a minute. I wanna check something.”

And so, Remus kept petting Mrs. Snuffles and Virgil slowly lowered his hand and nudged her in the back. Immediately she shot around and tried to hit him with her paw but Virgil had pulled away just in time. He pressed his lips together as Mrs. Snuffles glared at him with an angry look and noted her blue eyes. Maybe his suspicion was right.

“What was that about?” Roman asked poignantly.

Virgil shot him a look and then lowered his gaze to Remus and said: “I think she might be deaf. That’s not very uncommon among white cats with blue eyes. Would also explain why the hair dryer didn’t freak her out. She simply couldn’t hear it.”

Remus looked down to the Mrs. Snuffles with big eyes. She tilted her head and pushed her nose against his chest.

“It’s not painful, right? It’s not painful for her to be deaf?”

Remus’s voice was oddly quiet and vulnerable. Mrs. Snuffles began to loudly purr.

“No, it shouldn’t be,” Virgil said and waited for Remus to look at him. “She’s probably just safer as an indoor cat in the future. But with the place you can provide to her this should work out alright, I think.”

Remus looked at him blankly for a few moments and then nodded. He scratched Mrs. Snuffles ears quietly and the cat began to purr even more affectionately. Roman sighed a little and asked if they wanted some tea. They agreed and all but Remus sat around the dining table and took drank the mint tea Roman offered them.

“That’s probably not how you suspected your Friday night out would end up being, right?” Roman said after a few moments of stillness.

Janus eyed him for a second before he shrugged and replied: “I grew up with nine siblings and a bunch of their kids. I’ve had far weirder Friday evenings than this. With a lot more injuries too.”

“I am just glad that you’re both safe. The way Janus ran off really had me worried for a moment,” Patton added and both Virgil and Roman shot Janus a unbelieving look.

Janus pressed his lips into a thin line and looked upwards. He was not too eager to let the others know about his fear over the twins. And he did not want to admit to himself that he cared so much.

He felt Virgil tug him on his sleeve and Janus levelled his gaze when he asked him with raised eyebrows: “You ran here?”

“Did you read your message? It gave me absolutely no reason to worry,” Janus hissed still trying to mask the suddenly reappearing concerns in his chest.

Virgil frowned and took out his phone to check the message he sent. With a frown he looked at the two lines and immediately got what Janus had meant. He usually kept his texts short but this one really sounded panicked.

“I’m so fucking sorry! I was so wrapped up with the cat, I-” Virgil apologized frantically.

Janus stopped him by pressing his hands on his shoulders and told him: “I know. It’s fine. It had me worried but now I know you’re all fine. That’s all that matters.”

Sincerity by Janus was something rare. Something gentle and comforting. It was as if it had been designed to calm the other down, to ease ones worries and let them know that everything would be good.

Virgil gave him a weak smile and Janus gallantly shoved the attention away from him by asking Roman to finish telling how Mrs. Snuffles had created the chaos they had seen when they had first entered.

A little hesitantly, Roman continued telling how he and Remus had begun to try catching the cat, which ended up taking a lot longer than they would have expected. Mrs. Snuffles was a lot more agile and quick than both had expected and had run under the furniture, climbed on it and made the brothers chase her for more than an hour. Only then Remus had been able to snatch her and it was then when Roman had decided to call Virgil for help.

“I’m honoured you’ve thought of me,” Virgil said and Roman gave little shrug.

Roman had never had a pet and neither had Remus, so it had been obvious to him to ask someone for help. And who would have been better than Virgil for the job?

“You’re the owner of a pet shop, so it seemed to be an obvious choice,” Roman said and turned towards the couch to Remus, “right Rem?”

Roman’s jaw dropped. He blinked. Closed his mouth and squinted at the couch to check if he saw right. Remus had slumped to his side. One arm and leg were sprawled over the couch’s edge, while his head rested on a side lean. Remus was sleeping. Despite the odd position, Remus was sleeping. And Mrs. Snuffles lay on top of his belly purring quite loudly.

“This cat loves fucking with me. This- Oh, well,” Roman grumbled and got up from his chair.

With no explanation Roman walked over to his brother and carefully watched him for a moment. Hesitantly, he reached for the hearing aids in his ears, Mrs. Snuffles eyeing him with obvious distrust. Gently Roman got the hearing aids, turned them off and set them on the table before he looked back to Mrs. Snuffles and said to her in Spanish: “I do not know what unearthly powers you possess, but if you can keep using them to get Remus to sleep, I will reluctantly agree to keep you in this house.”

In response Mrs. Snuffles looked away and Roman shook his head and clacked his tongue. With a huff he straightened his back and looked over to the table, where the others looked at him in questioningly.

“Why exactly did you take his hearing aids out?” Janus asked after the pause had just been far too long.

“He sleeps always with his hearing aids off and I want him to keep sleeping, since he’s a bit of an insomniac and I don’t think I’ve seen him asleep before eleven pm in years.”

Reflexively Janus wanted to counter that it wasn’t even ten pm yet, when the message suddenly dropped and he just stared at Roman and then looked down to Remus.

“Welp,” Roman said more to himself than to anybody else and turned back to Remus, “then let’s get you to bed, Emi.”

With that Roman crouched down a little and put one arm under Remus knee folds and the other behind his back. It then clicked in Patton’s head that Roman wanted to carry him into his room. Immediately he got up to go and help him, just as Roman picked Remus up from the couch as if he didn’t weight much more than a flower pot. Mrs. Snuffles offendedly stared at Roman for having interrupted her sleep, what Roman gracefully ignored and without comment carried her and Remus into his brother’s room.

The display of strength paired with Roman’s gentleness came a little unsuspected to the others. It definitely reassured Janus of his love for men and when Roman was out of sight, he promptly bit his lip when he noticed that his mouth had still been open.

“Gross,” Virgil commented with a raised eyebrow.

With a glare Janus hit him at the arm. Virgil just smirked and Janus shook his head trying to refocus on the situation again. Insomnia. Perfect. Another problem Remus could put on his quirk list.

“So, both brothers have trouble sleeping...”

Janus frowned and looked to Patton who had spoken. He looked paler than before and at once he noticed how Virgil next to him began to get restless. Suspiciously, Janus looked from one to the other trying to gauge what their reaction meant.

Meanwhile, Logan did not want to guess and instead asked: “What do you mean? Both brothers have trouble sleeping? How would you know that?”

“Well, Roman had a nightmare after you left the night when Remus-”

The breath died in Patton’s throat. He didn’t want to think about that. It hurt so much to think about it now. About Remus-

“What’s the talk about nightmares?”

Roman came back into the room and looked at them all with a curious look. For a few moments nobody said anything. Roman walked closer and sat back down with them, waiting for one of them to answer.

It eventually was Virgil who could not hold the tension any longer and blurted out: “We talked about the nightmare you had in that night.”

For a second Roman’s eyes glazed over and his expression was blank. Then it suddenly became oddly relaxed again and shrugged.

“Well, yeah. Right. You saw that… Usually they are a lot more manageable, so don’t worry about it,” Roman said and simply took a sip from his tea.

All four stared at Roman in confusion. He just admitted to it.

“You just admitted to having nightmares?” Virgil said confounded.

Roman shrugged and looked down on the table as he answered: “Yeah, obviously. I have them often and I can and will fall asleep anywhere at anytime if I’m tired. So, if you’re really willing to stick around, I suppose you will witness one eventually. There’s no reason for me to hide it.”

With that Roman looked up again and simply asked if they wanted more tea. Patton wanted to ask if him screaming was normal for his nightmares, but asked for green tea instead. Virgil wanted to ask why Remus had told them then that they should not mention the nightmares to Roman, but asked for mint tea again. Logan wanted to ask why Patton as well as Virgil had seemed to be so worried about the nightmare, but instead said he didn’t want any tea anymore.

And Janus put his hand on Roman’s shoulder before he could stand up and said: “While they might be manageable, you don’t have to suffer through them. When you feel more comfortable you can come to us. Since we are obviously really willing to stick around, as you put it.”

For a second Roman just blankly stared at him before he breathed out a laugh and slid out of his grip to give him a soft nudge on the shoulder.

“You want black coffee, don’t you?” Roman said with an eyeroll.

And Janus replied smoothly: “Please. And no sugar.”

“Of course not! You’re sweet enough on your own.”

With that and a wink Roman left for the kitchen and the five men sat together a little longer, three of them a little annoyed but simultaneously relieved from the drama gays dramatic flirting. They talked a little, Roman agreed on going over to Virgil and Janus with Remus to get some more cat essentials. And soon after they all left for their respective homes.

Janus had to answer a few texts from his surprised and worried band mates because of his sudden exit. Logan had trouble falling asleep because Remus’s peaceful sleeping face kept his heart beating faster. Patton’s head kept replaying the brother’s interaction and the fondness in their actions. And Virgil surfed through the internet a little longer to check facts about deaf cats.

As for the twins; Roman slept quite well this night. No nightmare to report. And Remus for the first time in years, had a restful eight-hour sleep with Mrs. Snuffles resting on his tummy.

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

Tagged for this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@a-non-binary-pan

@simone-the-weird-person

[banditthewriter]

Redolence - Billy Russo - 5

Part five of this A/B/O series. So sorry it’s taken me so long to get this posted, internet troubles suck. Reminder, I use a comprehensive set of warnings so please be mindful. If you have questions or concerns, shoot me a message!

Redolence: the quality of smelling strongly of something or of having qualities (especially smells) that make you think of something else

Warnings: Smut. No really, lots of smut. Also angst because yeah. Sex in various positions. Oral sex (male and female receiving.) The reader does sleep with other Alphas but it is only ever mentioned, never described. Some talk of slave trade, not detailed. Angry sex. Unprotected sex. Reader experiences a bad panic attack that is described.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

The weather was supposed to be clear for most of the day, but while you were in the coffee shop getting a muffin and some green tea, it started to rain. You settled onto a seat near a window to stare out as the rain fell.

You shouldn’t have worn a dress today, but you had picked it without thinking. Between the dress and your flats, you weren’t ready to trek back to the center just yet. Not in the rain. You’d wait for it to get lighter before you tried to head home. Or maybe you’d just call for a cab.

Being out of the center never held much appeal for you before. You’d run your errands, but you didn’t dawdle. It wasn’t your dislike for being in the open but more of your urge to be back in your home. The comfort of your apartment was a bigger pull than the freedom of being in the city.

Today felt different. Today you sat with your legs crossed under the table and the trash from your muffin on the table, no urgency in your bones. Maybe it was that you were still run down from whatever sickness you had. Maybe it was because for the past three nights you’d missed Billy’s voice in your ear.

Maybe it was because you’d seen Karen and Frank and had wanted that simple intimacy. They’d sat on the couch together, touching but not for any reason beyond just that they wanted to. Frank had kissed her when he got up to get something to drink and Karen had curled against his shoulder as the three of you watched a movie on her tv.

In your mind, you pictured you and Billy like that. You thought about the two of you cooking dinner together, him picking on you because you had a habit of burning food more than anything else. You thought about him covering you with a blanket when you fell asleep with a book on the couch. You thought about wrapping your arms around his waist as he brushed his teeth or got ready in the morning.

You wanted Billy in more ways than just sexually. If it was just that, you wouldn’t have felt bad. It was completely normal for someone to fantasize about someone they’d had sex with. But your fantasies weren’t dirty.

Well, not all of them.

But you hadn’t heard from Billy in the past few days. He sent a text every morning and sometimes in the middle of the day, but he said that he was working on something that was keeping him busy. He didn’t want to avoid you, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to give you his full attention.

His work had picked up the morning after the two of you had gotten off together over the phone. You could only pray that that was a coincidence because the alternative was too much for you to entertain. That he had gotten tired of you or that he knew you’d overstepped that night and didn’t want to talk to you anymore but was letting you down easy.

Or, somehow worse, that he had been less than impressed with your phone sex abilities. It was the first time the two of you hadn’t been gripped by his rut, so maybe he didn’t like it. Maybe he didn’t really want you outside of his rut.

You should have been happy about that. If he didn’t want you outside of his rut, that meant the two of you could continue the way that you had been. You could help him in his rut, but it meant that you didn’t have to feel like you were breaking every rule you had as a companion. You could…

It didn’t matter. If Billy didn’t want you outside of his rut, it would kill you. To think that he only wanted you when it was a biological imperative, that it wasn’t really his choice? To think that you were falling for him and he’d only want you once every six months?

For an Alpha, there were multiple Omega scents that would be pleasant to them. Billy could pick someone else if he didn’t want you during his rut. The thought that that’s all there was between the two of you made the muffin and tea in your stomach turn sour.

Even though it was still raining, you grabbed your purse and your bags to get ready to leave. You threw away your trash and walked to the door. 

It didn’t look like it was raining that hard. You sighed and pushed the door open. 

The rain felt cool on your skin as you walked. The first block wasn’t bad, but by the second, you were already pretty wet. The rain was coming down harder and you still had quite a walk to the center.

You were going to be drenched by time you got home. And whatever sickness you’d had before was going to be so much worse at this rate.

Somewhere between block four and five, you thought you heard your name. You kept walking, uncertain if you were just hearing things, but then you heard it again.

Not just your name, but your name being called by Billy. Unable to help it, you spun around and looked. Raindrops getting into your eyes, you blinked a few times. There was a car nearby but that was all. Just as you started to believe you were hearing things, the driver got out.

Even with rainwater in your eyes you recognized Billy. He crossed in front of the car and ran over to where you were.

“I thought that was you. What are you doing out here in the rain?”

“Shopping,” you said as you lifted the bags, frowning as you tucked them under your arm to keep the things inside from getting wet. “I didn’t realize it was supposed to rain. It’s a longer walk than I thought it was.”

Billy swore and looked over his shoulder.

“Come on, get in the car. Gotta get you out of the rain before you get sick.”

He put his hand on the small of your back and started to guide you to his car. You didn’t fight it. He opened the door and you slid in.

It was a nicer car than you had ever been inside before. This was something you hadn’t expected for some reason. And the moment you realized just how expensive this car had to be, you realized you were drenched and dripping all over the leather seats.

As Billy slid in, you met his eyes with an apology already on your lips.

“I’m so sorry Billy, I’m getting water everywhere,” you said as you thought about just getting out and back into the rain.

“I don’t give a fuck about that. Jesus you’re soaked to the bone,” he said as he leaned forward and turned on the heat a bit for you. “I live one block back. How about I take you there to dry off and then I’ll take you to the center?”

You wanted to say yes. You’d give anything to stay in the car with him, to see where he lived, but then you remembered why it had been days since you’d heard from him.

“I know you’re busy with work. I don’t want to interrupt and cause a problem. You can just drop me off at the center.”

He shook his head as he started the car, checking the road before he pulled out.

“No, work can wait. I’m not dropping you off like this, not when I can literally see my building from where we are. Let me just get you there and dried off.”

There wasn’t any Alpha compulsion in his words, but there was a stubbornness for sure. And you didn’t think it was Alpha stubbornness. No, this was just Billy. You smiled and ducked your head, unable to help it.

He wanted to take care of you. Surely that meant something, right? Surely it was more than just the rut if he wanted to make sure you didn’t get sick.

You wished you could stop grasping at straws. How many times did you need to tell yourself that this wasn’t like that? Billy was apparently well off, handsome, intelligent, a brave soldier; why would he have fallen for the companion who was getting him through his ruts?

As for the things he had said on the phone that night, he was horny. Everyone said things they didn’t mean when they were turned on.

God, you’d referred to him as Alpha. Talk about a biological imperative…

He pulled into a covered parking deck of one of the larger apartment buildings in the area. You let yourself get bundled out of the car, your things under your arm as he guided you into an elevator. At his floor, you stood behind him and dripped on the marble floor as he fumbled with his keys.

The door opened and he ushered you into his apartment. It was large and spacious. There were things strewn about in a way that didn’t make the apartment messy, just lived in. You had never pictured his apartment before, but you felt that it fit him. Warm, dark colors mixed in with high tech electronics.

Billy disappeared for a moment before he came back with a towel in his hands. He was wet as well, but he was more focused on you.

“Here, put your stuff down,” he said as he draped the towel over your shoulders. “I should grab a second towel.”

But he didn’t move to do that. Instead you noticed that he was staring at you. You looked down and realized that the rain had made your dress cling to your body, revealing more than was hidden. You tugged the towel around you, a wave of embarrassment running through you.

He’d seen you naked half a dozen times. He’d been inside you, brought you to pleasurable heights you could barely describe. How was him seeing you like this making you embarrassed?

“The bathroom is this way,” he said as he turned around on his heel.

You followed him a little more sedately. God, his eyes had felt like a solid presence on your body. It was just because of how you felt. This stupid little crush or whatever it was. 

He didn’t need your insecurities and your ridiculous attention. This was a man who could probably snap his fingers and have anyone in the vicinity. He’d end up with an Alpha because someone with his Alpha levels would need someone who could keep up with him. He’d end up with some beautiful, powerful Alpha and they’d be happy. He wouldn’t need to go to the Companion Center anymore.

He wouldn’t need you.

You stepped into the white and chrome bathroom, the towel not much of a protection against the sudden coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature. Billy said something to you before he shut the door, but you barely heard the words.

He would leave you, he’d have to. You were a companion. This wasn’t a relationship. It didn’t matter that you wanted him—that you craved him—because it wasn’t meant to be. Even if you left the companion center, even if you didn’t have the rules hanging on you anymore, it still wouldn’t work out. 

How could he have ever love you like you loved him?

That’s what it came down to, wasn’t it? You were in his bathroom in a drenched dress and shoes that sloshed when you walked, a towel that smelled clean and yet still somehow like Billy wrapped around your body. You were in his apartment, his things around you. You were surrounded by Billy, the man you had met and had fallen irrevocably for. 

And it didn’t matter because Billy wasn’t the man for you. He was an Alpha that once his insecurities over his face were resolved would be one of the most sought after men in the city. Hell, he probably was even with his scars. You’d seen the comments on his Alpha profile at the center; some of the Omegas had heard about Billy before his accident.

Attractive. Successful. A serial dater. A lady’s man.

Your knees shook as you braced your hands against the counter, water dripping over your arms and pooling onto the surface. It wasn’t that Billy wasn’t the man for you. It was that you weren’t the woman for him. He was meant for amazing things. His company was in the news all the time for their achievements and their skills. The government was in talks to use his company in future ventures.

You were an Omega that had spent the last few years being fucked by Alphas. For the first time in your career, you felt dirty. Alphas came to the center for help, but at the end of the day, you were just something for them to use to get out of their rut. With the suppressants given by the Betas, you weren’t able to get pregnant by any of the men you slept with. You could give them pleasure, maybe get some pleasure yourself, and at the end of the night, the Alpha would leave and go back to their life.

And you would wait for the next Alpha to come to you.

There was a knock on the door and you quickly turned away, wiping the tears in your eyes away.

“Yes?”

“Brought the clothes,” he said through the door. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Can I come in? Just to put them on the counter.”

You sniffled and checked your reflection in the mirror. Hopefully it just looked like rain water had gotten into your eyes.

You tugged the towel up towards your face as you told him to come in.

“Here, just some sweats and… are you okay?”

You nodded and wiped at your face with the towel, cursing yourself for not staying turned away from him.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for the clothes. I’ll be finished up in a few moments.”

The less time you spent here, maybe the less it would hurt. Except you knew that that’s not how it worked.

Billy gave a nod and backed out of the bathroom, telling you to take your time as he shut the door. 

Alone again, you used the towel to actually start to dry off. Then you took off your dress and folded it into a wet pile on the counter. Your underthings were wet so after a moment’s hesitation, you took them off and wrapped them up in your dress to hide them. Your shoes were kicked off. 

The sweatpants were too long for you so you rolled the waistband and then rolled up the cuffs a bit. Next was the shirt which was clearly older and a favorite of Billy’s given by the worn feeling of the cloth. Why he had given you his favorite shirt, you couldn’t figure, but you tugged it on anyways. Being naked under his clothes made your skin tingle, but you told yourself it wasn’t like that.

You dried your hair and then stared at yourself in the mirror. At least you hadn’t worn makeup today or else you’d look worse than you already did. But you weren’t crying anymore and that’s all that you could hope for.

Your mind went back to the revelation you’d had before he had come in. You loved Billy. You loved him and you wanted more with him than just being the companion he went to for relief in his ruts. It wasn’t fair that the Alpha you fell for, which you’d always accepted as a possibility, was the one you weren’t good enough for.

The words of your scandalized Beta parents came to you in a flash. You were tainted goods, worse than the Omegas who were sold into slavery because at least they hadn’t wanted their fate. You had decided to do this to yourself.

Shame washed over you, but not because of your job. You were ashamed that you had thought that. You weren’t a whore, you weren’t a slave, you weren’t dirty. You were an Omega who had made the decision to help Alphas who were in need. The work you did might not be traditional, but it didn’t mean you were any less than anyone else.

But it did mean you weren’t meant for Billy. Not just because you were a companion and he deserved someone different. Billy had never dropped any hints that he wanted more from you than a companion that helped him during his rut. The phone sex had been an anomaly, both of you geared up from sexual tension. It made sense since the only times you’d spoken before had been followed by sex.

It was a Pavlovian response, that’s all. He didn’t want you, he was just used to having you.

And while it was going to hurt, you needed to cut ties. You couldn’t be his companion anymore, not when you wanted more. It wasn’t fair to him.

You would be using him.

You met your gaze in the mirror and found yourself faced with a determination the likes of which you’d never seen. It would hurt like hell, carving part of your heart out of your chest, but it needed to be done. You didn’t want to use Billy like that; you couldn’t be with him without wanting more.

He deserved better than that. And he deserved more than an Omega companion with no family, no prospects, no wish for more.

You were settled at the companion center. You were happy there. You weren’t Karen who had dreamed of more; you were comfortable and safe so why would you want more?

With your spine straightened, you reached out for the doorknob. You wouldn’t tell Billy right now, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to face him as you broke your own heart, but once you were home you’d make the plans. You’d contact the Betas and let them know that you couldn’t accept Billy Russo anymore. You’d clean his clothes for him and send them to him with a letter that explained why you would no longer be able to be his companion.

It was time to do the right thing.

That in mind, you turned the doorknob and stepped out of the bathroom.

The rest of the apartment was empty. You were about to call out for him when he came down the hall that you thought must lead to his bedroom. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt as he crossed over to you on bare feet. 

“Do you have a grocery bag so that I can put my clothes in there? I’ll be sure to wash this before I send it back to you.”

Billy shook his head as he went into the kitchen.

“Just hold onto it. I’ll get it when I come back to the center.”

Except he wouldn’t be coming back to you. You couldn’t tell him that so instead you smiled and accepted the bag from him. You went into the bathroom and put your belongings into the bag after ringing them out into the sink. Once you were done, you cleaned up the water on the floor and the counter with the towel and dropped it into the hamper in the bathroom.

Then you stepped back out of the bathroom. Billy wasn’t visible so you walked down the hall a bit. He was in the living room. You hovered uncertainly before you took a deep breath and stepped towards him. 

If this was your last time seeing him, you wanted to remember what he smelled like without his rut. You wanted to look at him with his hair falling around his forehead and his shoulders relaxed as he scrolled through his phone.

You wanted these memories. Needed them.

He noticed you in the room and stood up. He smiled as he looked you over wearing his oversized clothes.

“That dress looked good on you, but I like you like this too,” he said with a grin as he started to slide his phone into his pocket. He didn’t even let it go before it started to ring.

“Hello. Hey, I’m actually… wait, they did? Fuck. Okay, hold on,” he said as he pulled the phone away for a second. “I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”

You gave him a nod and watched as he disappeared into another room. From what you could see, it was an office. He opened up a laptop and sat down at the desk all while talking about something that must have gone wrong at work.

He was in his element. It was nice to see.

You walked over to a bookshelf and looked over at some of the titles he had there. Some were obviously well loved while a few were most likely bought just to be had. Mixed in with the books were a few framed photographs. 

Billy getting an award pinned to his Marine uniform, a few from Anvil. There was one that looked like him and some of his buddies overseas, but your attention was drawn away from it as hands went to your hips.

“Looking for something to occupy your time with?”

You let out a soft laugh, unable to help but leaning into his embrace.

“Wasn’t sure how long you were going to be on the phone. Thought I might as well read for a while.”

His hands on your hips turned you so that you were facing him instead of the bookshelf. He kept his hold on you. Those dark eyes moved over your face until you could almost feel him caressing your bottom lip.

You knew you should pull away, change the subject. You should ask him if he was ready to take you home or, better yet, if you could just call a cab. You knew that you should go through these steps because after this you were cutting ties, but your body refused to cooperate.

If after this you were going to cut ties anyways, why not just let yourself enjoy this moment?

His hand moved up and brushed against your neck. You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy the touch. The scent of him rocked through you, natural and clean. It was almost familiar but you weren’t sure why. And, before you could ask what his scent was, you heard him let out a growl.

“Fuck it,” he said as he leaned in and captured your lips. 

You didn’t even bother pretending you were going to push him away. Instead you tugged him closer, moving your lips against his as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands went down to your waist and he tugged you closer to him.

It was just a kiss. It wouldn’t matter, not in the long run. It was just a kiss. It was just…

Billy’s hands didn’t leave your body as he walked the two of you across the living room. You followed him as best you could while still trading kisses. When you stumbled into his bedroom, you didn’t stop. 

This was inevitable. The two of you were falling onto the bed together, your bodies aligned perfectly. He sat up just long enough to tug off his shirt and you followed suit, throwing your borrowed shirt onto the floor. His mouth descended down onto your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. You arched into the heat of his mouth and scratched your nails up his back and into his hair. 

The next thing you knew, your pants were being pulled off of you. The borrowed sweats were too big as it was so he was able to tug them off easily. He threw them onto the floor and then spread your legs to get his mouth on you. The instant his mouth touched your pussy, you swore and arched under him.

His tongue moved over you hungrily, circling your clit before he pulled the little nub into his mouth. Then his fingers were spreading your folds and pushing into your wet heat. His hand moved faster and faster and you rocked your hips to the speed, angling closer to him as your orgasm started to build.

“Please Billy, please,” you begged as you thrust up against his mouth.

His lips curled against you. He sucked harder and moved his fingers in and out faster, driving you up and over the crest of your climax. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” he said as he moved back over you, kissing your still quivering stomach and breasts before he captured your lips. “I can’t tell you how much I love how you taste.”

Your brain was lost in the haze of sex and orgasm and Billy. With one foot flat on the bed, you arched your body until the two of you rolled over and you were on top. You wiggled down his body and then tugged on his sweats. He helped you take them off but before he could even open his mouth to say anything, you leaned over his cock and swirled your tongue over the head.

The taste of him was strong on your tongue. You ran your tongue along the ridge under the head and listened to the thread of filth fall from Billy’s lips at the maneuver. Next you hollowed your cheeks and sucked around the head, earning more filth.

His hand fell to your head but not to push you. Instead you moved to sit up so that you could take him further into your throat. You opened your throat and sucked him down more and more each time, your hand gripped at the base of his cock so that you could jack the part you couldn’t deep throat. The hand on the back of your head tightened and then you felt him give a pull of your hair.

“Off baby, off,” he said as he sat up. He grabbed your shoulders and rolled the two of you over again. “I need to be inside of you.”

You didn’t even hesitate as you spread your legs. You reached between the two of you and grabbed his cock, jacking it a few times before you guided him to your entrance. He braced himself over you as he slipped inside, inch by glorious inch. Once he was inside, he looped his arm under one of your legs and lifted it, changing the angle for his first thrust.

“Fuck you’re so tight around my cock,” he mumbled into your neck as his thrusts picked up. “Feel so good to me, so good.”

You rolled your hips with his thrusts, both of you riding the high of it together. It felt amazing. Every thrust was better than the last, his hips angled so that most of the thrusts brushed against your g-spot. You were probably screaming but you didn’t even care. All you could think was that you didn’t want this to stop.

His thrusts got harder and harder until you could feel your body scooting up the bed. You braced a hand above you against the headboard to catch yourself, but you didn’t stop moving with him. 

“Fuck, so good for me, so perfect. Come on my Omega, come for me,” he said into your ear before he kissed you again. 

Your mind was blissfully blank in that moment as your orgasm crashed over you. It was just a few more thrusts before he was coming as well, your name groaned out against your neck as if it was torn from him.

He slumped over you, his body pressing yours down deliciously. As you laid there, you realized what had just happened.

You’d had sex with Billy in his bed, in his apartment, outside of his rut. Not only that, but you’d had unprotected sex with him.

Oh god, he was still inside of you.

As if he could sense your thoughts, Billy pulled out. You bit your lip as you sat up, your eyes wide as you looked down at your body.

How many times had you imagined that? It was so much better than your fantasies, but that wasn’t the point.

It never should have happened.

You weren’t sure what Billy was doing, but you quickly grabbed the shirt and pants you had been wearing and rushed from the room. In the bathroom you cleaned up and tugged the clothes on. Your skin was sensitive to the touch, nerve endings alight after that spectacular mistake you’d just made.

You’d wanted to leave today with memories. You didn’t think that would be one of them.

Dressed once more, you stepped out of the bathroom. Billy was there in his sweatpants looking at you as if he was approaching a cornered animal.

“I know that we should have used protection,” he started, holding his hands out as if he wanted to touch you, but you shook your head and moved over to where your bags were.

“I really need to get back to the center. I… I can call a cab.”

You heard him shift his weight behind you and you reached into the bag for your cell phone.

“I’ll take you,” he said in a soft voice, careful. “Let me just get my shirt and my keys.”

You watched him turn and walk away from the corner of your eye. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself that this was for the best. This was the only way this story could end.

When he came back out, he had a sweatshirt in his hands which he handed to you. You hesitated before you pulled it on, zipping it up. He slid his feet into some sneakers and then looked at you with your bags already in your hands. He didn’t say anything as he moved to the door to open it for you.

He locked it behind the two of you and then you got into the elevator. The ride from his floor to the parking garage felt like it took years but it was probably only a few moments. Then the two of you exited out towards his car. You were slow in your bare feet, but Billy didn’t rush. At the car, he opened your door and waited for you to get seated before he shut the door.

God this was it. This car ride would end your relationship with this man. You could still feel him inside of you, could still smell him on you. How long after this would it take for you to get over him?

Would you ever get over him?

Billy turned the heat on the moment the car was started. He pulled out of the parking space and then out of the parking garage before he turned in the direction of the center. Halfway there he finally spoke.

“You gotta talk to me here babe. What’re you thinking about?”

What were you thinking about? About how much it was going to hurt to say goodbye to him. And while your first plan had been to tell him in a letter when you sent back his clothes, you knew you needed to do it now.

Rip off the bandaid. It won’t heal faster, but at least it’ll be done.

“We can’t… I can’t be your companion anymore.”

You were going to say that you couldn’t see each other anymore but that made it sound like you were dating rather than the truth.

“What? What, because of what happened? Y/N, we–”

You latched onto the excuse rather than explaining the truth, grateful to be given the chance.

“Companions aren’t supposed to see Alphas outside of the center. We’re… we’re definitely not supposed to sleep with them outside of their ruts.”

Billy cursed, his hands turning into fists around the steering wheel. You wished you could tell what he was thinking, but he was hard to read. The scars seemed to be alive, twitching with the muscles in his jaw and cheek. 

When he pulled out in front of the center, you started to reach for the bags but he grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“This… this doesn’t have to be about the center. This doesn’t have to be about Alphas and Omegas.”

Him saying the word reminded you of what he had said in bed again. He had called you Omega. You weren’t sure if you felt butterflies or if you were heartbroken over it, but it cemented how you felt about doing this now. Right now you were just an Omega to him, just another hole to fill. This wasn’t about love for him. It wasn’t his rut, sure enough, but it wasn’t love.

It was sex. And you were ready, willing, and someone he knew he could enjoy.

“This is really for the best. You can… you can explore other Omegas for your ruts and–”

“That’s what you want? You want me to use another Omega?” 

You flinched at his wording, but he didn’t see. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and then turned to you. There was no warmth in his eyes, the look he usually wore around you missing. There wasn’t anger or pain; there was nothing in his eyes. It was like looking into a black nothingness.

It broke your heart.

“Well don’t worry. I’ll never ask for you again. I’ll find another Omega to fuck during my rut. You can think about me inside of her and feel better about yourself.” He turned away from you, his body tight and shaking. “Now get the fuck out of my car.”

You wiped at your eyes before you grabbed your bags and opened the door. You had barely shut the door before he put the car in drive and took off. You dropped your bag and you stooped down to pick it back up, your hands shaking as you made sure nothing inside was broken, tried to protect the from the rain.

“Miss? Can I help you?”

You looked up and saw one of the Betas from the front desk. She looked so genuinely concerned that you couldn’t help but break into tears as you collapsed onto the sidewalk.

It would stop hurting at some point, wouldn’t it?

X

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[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 6: Pleck

Depending on where he looked, it had begun hundreds of years ago.

The Allwheat hit him hard that day. After waking up on the couch next to C-53, feeling warm and soft inside, Pleck wandered to his cleaning chamber for a shower and was immediately assaulted.

It hurt this time, the mocking voice loud and harsh in his mind, and it was all he could do to remain standing under the spray of hot water. He sucked in a breath, keeping a white-knuckled grip on the handicap bar.

“Shut up,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

He ran through his affirmations, tried to fling his thoughts out to something else, but the demonic entity bore down on him viciously until its voice broke his mind open like an egg. His legs gave out and he slammed painfully to his hands and knees, shuddering.

YOU’RE A FAILURE YOU’RE WORTHLESS ALL YOUR FRIENDS HATE YOU THE ALLWHEAT WILL CONSUME EVERYTHING MY POWER IS INESCAPABLE YOUR PATHETIC LIFE IS JUST A MONUMENT TO YOUR FAILURE AND YOUR FRAGILE MIND WILL BREAK UNDER THE WEIGHT OF IT ALL YOU'RE TINY YOU’RE NOTHING YOU’RE USELESS-

Pleck crouched and shivered and took it. His head split with pain. It was so unbearably loud, so relentless and all-consuming. It blacked out his eyes and burned in his ears, assailing him until the water ran cold.

When the voice finally withdrew, his muscles ached from tensing up and one of his knees was bleeding from its impact with the tile. Pleck raised a shaking hand and cut the water off.

“Juck…” he exhaled weakly. He had let his guard down, gone complacent in the presence of his friends. It only made sense that the Allwheat had returned with a vengeance.

Trembling, he stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and gingerly dressed himself. In the weeping surface of the mirror, he caught his own reflection. One of his eyes was heavy with fatigue and the other was plain ruined, gazing back at him like a spectre. His unshaven jaw was tense, his shoulders pulled in tight. He looked every bit as exhausted as he felt.

Why was this just his life now?

He hadn’t asked to be chosen. He especially hadn’t asked to be chosen for something so galaxy-shattering. Why couldn’t he have been the guy who was chosen to tell stupid jokes, or write a novel that he abandoned halfway through? Why did it have to be him?

When Pleck had found Derf on that barren rock of an asteroid, he was dazzled by the stories the old man wove about the Space. It seemed like an impossible fantasy at the time - him, Pleck Decksetter, a nobody of a tellurian from a backwater planet in the middle of nowhere, destined for greatness. After he’d joined the Federated Alliance, he had quickly learned that ambassador work was just as mind-numbing as farm work. Discovering he was chosen for something bigger than himself put stars in his eyes (he’d still had both of them at the time). It didn’t matter that his crew didn’t believe him or that his wood saber snapped in two.

He was going to be somebody. He was going to help people.

Of course, it was only fitting that Pleck Decksetter, tellurian disaster, would be indoctrinated into an order of other disasters. He had wandered blindly under the vague and largely unhelpful tutelage of Old Derf, clinging to the hope that all this searching would be worth it. He wanted it to be real. He needed it to be real, so the sheer nothingness of his life actually meant something.

Traveling to Zima Prime may have been disappointing, but at least it was proof - evidence that his stubborn hope paid off. The Space was real. He was chosen.

Now, it was all too real, the burden of responsibility weighing heavy on his shoulders. Perhaps he had defeated the Emperor, but at what cost? The Allwheat was ripping apart the galaxy, and it was his fault. His fault. Pleck’s. Is this what it meant to be chosen?

Pleck stared numbly at his reflection. Slowly, he started to comb through his hair with his fingers. He looked horrible, white-faced and shaken, but he could at least try and offset the effect with some grooming. He didn’t bother to shave, but he did tie on his eyepatch as an afterthought.

Sometimes, he wished none of this had ever happened. He wished he had stayed on Rangus Six, ignorant and safe, mind undisturbed by a hateful, mutant ghost. It was better than having breakdowns in the shower. It was better than being unable to trust his own thoughts.

But no, he considered, watching the condensation run lazy tracks down the mirror. He wouldn’t trade this for anything. Not if it meant he’d never have met his crew. His friends. Dar, who’d slowly come around from actively disliking him to being a literal shoulder to cry on. Bargie, with her spirit and her strength in the face of everything she’s endured. Nermut’s passion for all that he was involved in. AJ, whom Pleck deeply loved. His curiosity. His verve for life.

He wouldn’t have met his noob without the Space. He wouldn’t have met any of them. It was destiny.

And then there was C-53, the constant, supportive presence that never left his side. The pragmatic droid had never believed in the Space. When Pleck first learned he was chosen, C-53 had challenged him at every turn. In all fairness, he had been newly freed from his restraining bolt, and Pleck couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at the droid for ramming his shins repeatedly, goading him into a fight. He had actually found it delightful - C-53, flooded with newfound emotion, had decided to bother Pleck of all people.

The fact that C-53 had come around to believing in his Space-sensitivity was new to him, and he was still fighting an instinct to flinch away when he asked about it. He couldn’t forget that the droid had been the one to pull him out of the Cone of Silence a season ago, when Pleck’s heart was full of hate.

It’s me, C-53, talking to you. Your best friend. It echoed in his memory even today.

Now he was so much more than that to Pleck, and he had no idea how to approach it. C-53 had remained close to him despite his best efforts at isolation, watching over him when he couldn’t watch out for himself. Pleck felt so strongly for him, sometimes it physically hurt to keep it inside. Every time he was near the droid, he felt transparent, as if everyone could see the undercurrent of longing beneath his skin.

He loved all of his crew, but with C-53, he was in so deep he would be happy to drown in it.

Pleck managed to tie his hair back and let out a sigh. A thin line of blood traced down his shin from the fresh cut on his knee. He should probably go get the med kit from the kitchen and clean this up. That is, if his shaking hands would hold still enough to let him do it.

Barefoot, he trudged to the common room, willing for it to be empty. Upon entry, he saw that AJ had cleared out, but C-53 was still resting next to the couch in low power mode. Pleck paused in the doorway, eyeing him warily, but when his colleague didn’t stir, he tread carefully through the lounge and to the kitchenette beyond. He found the med kit in a cabinet by the fridge.

With trembling fingers, he reached up to retrieve it, biting back a curse as it slipped out of his grasp. It clattered loudly to the linoleum floor, popping open and scattering medical supplies everywhere. Juck my life. He knelt sorely to pick up the mess.

A smooth shift of machinery from the couch told Pleck that C-53 was stirring, making his pulse climb in alarm. He didn’t want his friend to see him like this, pale, shaking, kneeling on the floor with rolls of bandages slipping through his fingers. Hardly able to think. Brimming with heartache.

“Pleck?” C-53’s footsteps were heavy as he approached. “Are you okay?”

“Hey,” he made a weak attempt at levity. “Just uh, picking up all this stuff I dropped… Clumsy me, right?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Pleck’s laugh sounded more like a panicked hiccup. “I’m fine, I just - I just slipped in the shower. I’m-” the bottle of hydrogen peroxide he tried to grasp fumbled out of his hand.

There was a long, agonizing pause as it rolled across the floor and bumped gently against the foot of C-53’s frame. Pleck kept his eye on the linoleum, unable to look at his friend.

Then he heard whirring, and a loader claw clamped onto the back of his robe, hoisting Pleck into the air.

“Whoa, C-53, what are you-”

“I’m making sure you’re paying attention,” C-53 spoke over him, carrying Pleck easily to the coat rack on the nearby wall.

He flailed, resistant. “You don’t need to pick me up -”

“Oh, I think I do,” C-53 insisted. He placed the bathrobe, and the tellurian inside it, onto a free hook and let him dangle there.

Pleck stopped struggling, hanging pathetically in defeat. He was so tired.

“Pleck, look at me.”

Pleck looked at him. He was very close, the face of his frame filling his field of vision so that he was all the tellurian could focus on.

“Tell me what happened.”

Haltingly, Pleck recounted his attack in the cleaning chamber. He no longer saw a point in hiding it, incapacitated and laid bare by C-53’s scanners like this.

When he finished, C-53 drew back a little, studying him. He couldn’t tell what was going on in the droid’s cube - the face of his frame was still and passive. Blood continued to run sluggishly down Pleck’s leg, dripping onto the floor, loud amid the silence.

C-53’s voice was stern but gentle when he finally spoke. “The next time this happens, I want you to come find me.”

“I don’t think-”

“I’m serious,” C-53 cut him off. He was so close to him Pleck could hear the hardware behind his face plate humming softly. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately-”

Pleck went rosy from ear to neck. “You have?”

“-And I would like to say that I hate seeing you like this. You’re a good person and you have no business hiding away all the time when you’re clearly hurting. Pleck, you can talk to me.” His vocal modulator sounded almost choked, and it was strange for Pleck to hear.

“I would be a pretty terrible friend if I just stood aside and watched when I know you’re in pain,” he continued. “I’m here for you. You come to me when you need me. This,” he gestured between them with a claw, “is how friendship works.”

Pleck sagged, his chest feeling hot and complicated in the face of C-53’s words. “Th - Thanks. Thanks, C. I’m sorry. I’ll - I’ll come tell you next time.”

He hadn’t realized how closely the droid had been paying attention to him. It made his arms feel tingly - or maybe that was the lack of circulation from being hung on a coat rack.

“Do you think you could maybe, uh,” he laughed uncomfortably, breakably, “maybe put me down now?”

“Right, sorry.”

C-53’s loader claw reached up and delicately removed him from the hook, rotating to deposit him as softly as possible on solid ground. Pleck’s legs shook when he stood, but thankfully they held his weight. He tipped his head back, gazing up at his friend, a whole mess of words threatening to spill out. The Space really did mean for them to meet. He believed it with all his heart.

C-53 indicated his split knee with a heavy clamp. “You should take care of that,” he told him. “I mean, I’d do it, but I sort of lack the appropriate dexterity right now.” The clamp clicked for emphasis.

Pleck’s head went all foggy picturing C-53 bandaging his wounds, so he busied himself with the task before his blush could deepen. The disinfectant stung, grounding him a little more in reality.

“I think we should start looking at ways to solve your Allwheat problem,” C-53 said as he migrated toward the mess of medical supplies on the floor. “Treat the source, not just the symptoms.”

Pleck gave him a cautious look. “I don’t know where I would even start with something like that.” His fingernails scraped at the wrapper of a bandage as he thought about it. “Maybe I could look back at the scrolls? Y’know, see if I missed something. Oh, C-53, you don’t have to…”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” C-53 was picking up each fallen item one by one, depositing them carefully in the red plastic container like an oversized claw game. It was adorable. Pleck ducked his head so he wasn’t staring.

“I think the scrolls will be a good place to start,” C-53 continued, oblivious to Pleck’s furtive gaze. “Do you still have them somewhere?”

Pleck nodded. He could dig them out of where he’d stashed them in storage a few months back. He placed the bandage thoughtfully over his knee, pressing down to make it stick. “D’you think we’ll actually be able to…” he faltered, doubtful. “Fix me?”

C-53 paused to consider him. “Pleck,” he said. “You’re not broken.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean-”

“But if it means you’ll be happy again, I’ll try my very best.” The droid gave him a significant look. “Will you let me help you?”

Pleck crushed the bandage wrapper in his fingers, insides suddenly going soft. C-53 was going to melt him with his sincerity at this rate. When Pleck answered, his voice came out very small. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that.”

To be happy again. He wanted it more than anything.

Chapter 5 <-----> Chapter 7

[jcs-writing-hell]

MDZS Writing Game

Thank you for requesting, dear anon! Feel free to send me more anytime. It's gonna be a bit angsty but that's normal because I wanted to keep it a canon-ish like moment and not an AU like one.

Tween WWX x MY | Theme: Nightmare/Crying/ in the rain

Word Count: 1896 Check out my MDZS Writing Game - Requests open anytime

It hadn't been long since her husband had went on one of his many trips, that didn't end up anywhere, in search for his friends son. Even though Ziyuan understood - she also hated it. She hated having to see her husband mourn, only able to cope with it as she made herself recall time and time again that Fengmian had also lost his best friend and the boy both of his parents.

She disliked Wei Ying's mother - it wouldn't even be a lie to say that Ziyuan had wished Cangse Sanren death on numerous occasions.. However, she had lived with Fengmian for a long time now, she had known Wei Changze for years herself. He was a good man - good and kind enough to reassure Ziyuan secretly many times that Fengmian truly loved her,.. that Cangse Sanren had been nothing but a teenage crush, that there was never anything between Cangse Sanren and Fengmian. It wasn't even that she didn't believe Wei Changze, it was simply the first time that she had fallen in love and it went against her character so much to fall for a man she had been "forced" to marry. The fact that she did had already weakened her mentally, which only strengthened her furious side due to insecurities any women would have if her man would treat another women the way he should be treating her.

It was only with endless times of recalling all of that that Ziyuan was able to cope with the boy that was barely hanging onto life - Because on this last trip, she had told her husband not to go on, he had found Wei Ying. Maybe it was her fate after all to never be able to forget about the foolishness of falling for a man she could've just been married to as a business as well. She hadn't wanted her husband to lose himself in case he would find the boy, that she strongly believed held far more meaning for him than "He's the son of my friends", dead.

Wei Ying was in fact not far from death. He was thin, sick, barely conscious with quite the fever. It was hard to watch, even for Ziyuan - only due to the boy looking more like his father.

Like Ziyuan's mental state, the weather also began to go out of control. Fengmian was at the boys bed all the time, her daughter accepting the child fully while her little A-Cheng feared for the spot in his father's heart, already in an age way younger than when she had been forced to first feel this way.

It wasn't really storming outside their residence, yet it was pouring with rain. Fengmian had already gone to sleep, for the first time in days, and after hours of staring at her husband in an desperate attempt to finally kill the emotions that drowned her on the inside.. Yu Ziyuan left their - at the time still shared - bedroom. She wanted to drink, just to get away from it all.. yet as she walked through the halls and passed by a window, she faintly heard the crying of a child. It wasn't one of hers, even if she was cold and detached, she knew how her children sounded as they cried - she was a mother after all.

Going back, she got her purple cape before returning and stepping outside. It didn't take long until she could hear the first words, the voice of the child still unfamiliar as the boy called for his mom and dad. Walking around a tree, surely enough.. It had to be Wei Ying. Why did the boy have to wake up, walk outside, and cry and be found from exactly her?

,,Why are you outside? Do you want to die?"

The harsh way in which Ziyuan said her words caused the traumatised child - barely older than A-Cheng - to flinch and curl up further into a ball. Gritting her teeth, she spoke again a moment later with a bit more of a gentle tone, her patience about to run out.

,,Come inside."

,,Who are you..? Where are my parents..?"

Ziyuan raised a brow. The boy had lived years alone by then, he should've gotten the hint that his parents weren't going to return. With how the rain was pouring, even with Wei Ying looking at her, she had to do the last thing on earth she wished to do to confirm her guess. Leaning down, she put a hand on the boys forehead. As thought, Wei Ying was burning, he must be trapped in between of reality and the past, or maybe even a nightmare, due to a fever induced hallucination.

,,I am a friend of your father. I'll help you, come inside."

It was the first and last time that Madam Yu would show both empathy and honest worry towards the boy. A mere natural reflex caused from having carried two children of her own. As Wei Ying stretched his thin, weak arms out to her, she then picked him up and carried him back to his bedroom. When she turned to try and retrieve a towel however, the boy followed her, even clung to her drenched cape.

For the next 15 minutes Wei Ying would repeatedly ask Ziyuan where his parents were.. She didn't reply until the crying child sat on his bed and she on a chair that Fengmian usually used beside it.

,,Your parents.. they will not come back."

,,They said they were going to come back the next morning.. I want to look for them.."

Once more Ziyuan was forced to touch the child as he jumped off of the bed and tried to get back outside. Catching him, she lifted Wei Ying up and put him, again more naturally, down on her lap. The boy fought back for a while, yet she didn't say anything - what was she supposed to say? "I'm sorry"? Should she keep telling the boy that his parents wouldn't come back?

,,Did you know? Your father grew up here.. This was his home."

Wei Ying's head tilted back instantly. He had fought himself even more strengthless than he had been before, yet his tired and broken young eyes were so wide open and full of interest. Yu Ziyuan felt relieved, for several reasons.

,,He did..?"

,,You won't remember, you were too young.. but the man sitting beside you was like a brother to your father. Jiang Fengmian, he wears the finest purple robes and is the most handsome man you will meet. He is kind,.. and so soft in character."

Ziyuan paused, she couldn't believe she had said those words out loud, yet she did and as Wei Ying began to wiggle around on her lap she continued to speak in a tone so different to her usual one.

,,A-Li, our daughter.. She wants to meet you, she is just like her father in character. A-Cheng, my dear little boy.. he looks so much like his father, yet he is more like me."

,,I.. I remember.. not much, but a bit.."

The boys expression faltered somewhat, the faces and voices of his parents as blurry as most that he wished to be able to remember about his early childhood even as an adult.

,,Your parents must've told you.. Your father really cherished us. Yunmeng Jiang was his home. Even though your parents won't come back, Lotus Pier.. is your home, just like it was that of your father."

,,Lotus.. The flower!"

Wei Ying blurted out in a break Ziyuan took and for a moment she couldn't help but smile a little.

,,Making the impossible possible.. like a lotus that will always return and grow, no matter how dirty and muddy it's surrounding water might be.. That's how you have to be. Be a good friend, a hold and protection to A-Cheng, like your father was for Fengmian.. You can do that, you have the Jiang Sects blood, your father's blood, running in your veins. Yunmeng Jiang was the home of your father, it can turn into yours as well."

Somewhere in between of the last part of Ziyuan's speech Wei Ying had fallen asleep. He had sank against her chest, his breathing for once soft and steady. For a few minutes Ziyuan stayed still, or more tense and stiff, before she lifted her hand and gently put it on the back of the boys head. Her words barely above a whisper, one of her many secrets that she also had with her own two children - she was caring, but always when no one would notice the "weakness".

,,The Lotus Pier of Yunmeng Jiang is your home. It has always been a part of you, it will always be.. Never forget that, Wei Ying."

-

It was another horrible twist in Madam Yu's fate as around two days later Wei Ying woke up. His fever was gone, he looked so much more full of life - as if he had found a new meaning or purpose for the duration of it.. Yet no matter how often their paths crossed, the boy clung onto anyone and anything but her. He must've forgotten, due to the high fever he had had. Yu Ziyuan didn't forget, yet she also never talked about that again. Nor about how she had put the boy to bed, remained by his side for hours before leaving as she knew someone would be awake soon and able to spot her. She never forgot, which was why, even if she came to dislike the boy even more, why even though there were so many terrible things he caused.. Each time he made A-Cheng or A-Li laugh, each time he protected any of them, she knew that even if Wei Ying didn't remember - a subconscious part of him did and that was all that mattered. That was why, even as she knew she was walking into her death, she had entrusted one of the worst memories of her life with the safety of all of her treasures: A-Cheng, A-Li and her home Lotus Pier of Yunmeng Jiang.

It was the truth that Wei Ying had forgotten the conversation and all the moments.. But there were things he couldn't forget, deep rooted feelings he couldn't find the source for. That Yunmeng Jiang was his home, why the sect motto was so important to him, why he would've done anything for his two adoptive siblings, why Fengmian's character was so clear to him from the start. Why he never felt truly scared of Madam Yu,.. but more than anything, even as he was already married to Lan Wangji for years, Wei Ying knew and felt it so deep within him that his home - his true place to be, a connection he would never be able to let go off even in a million rebirths was the Lotus Pier of Yunmeng Jiang.

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |11|

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to other parts:  | 1 |  2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 

May do one more after this, we’ll see. 

Words:5049

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (BDSMish themes, Yoongi Switch, Masturbation, Slight exhibitionism maybe) Swearing, mentions of eating issues, alcohol comsumption. General sass.

Permanent Tags: @msunnsstuff  @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin @backtonormalthings

Reblog, Like, Comment pwwwweeasse :)

//

As the coffee machine was whirring away crushing away the strong beans, he remembered the way your eyes flitted when he’d said those words. It was panic. Was it panic because you didn’t feel the same? Or was it just because when he said it? Or was it both? He hated that he didn’t know.

“Are you growing the beans yourself?” He heard you call from the bedroom. The coffee had been sat ready steaming for minutes.

“Sorry baby, I just got distracted” You were sat up, sheet pulled up around you; legs almost pressed to your chest as you took the cup from him. As he stood to leave to start the shower you tugged at his hand, pining. He smiled weakly bending down to give you the kiss you wanted.

“You better not have been heading to the shower without me Min Yoongi”

“And what if I was?” he countered.

“Then I’ll have to you show why it’s better to shower with me”

“I’ll be honest then, I was heading to the shower” he confessed, smile adorning his lips as he grabbed a towel from the side.

“So I’ll see you in a minute then? He added.

“You know I’m a woman of my word” He would never get enough of the teasing smile you rewarded him so often.

//

“Sharp scratch” the nurse warned puncturing your skin with a needle. The long tubing snaking its way into a bag filled with liquid loaded with vitamins. Your reflection staring back at you as the makeup artist was puffing powder all over your face. Your manager and his assistant were stood observing the whole process. His PA was your favourite person right now. You were running on minimal sleep, no food and you felt like crap; she had amazingly managed to call out a nurse out for you last minute.

“Okay so the plan is you will be on the red carpet straight after BTS, Yoongi will hold back so the press can get photos of the people behind the collab of the year” 

Your reflection smiled at the compliment. For the show you will be sat at our section a few tables behind the boys until you get called for you performance and your presentation.

“Got it, please don’t go over the plan again”

The heated leather seats of the car contributed to soothing your pre-event nerves. The bright natural white light flashes seeped in; even through the tinted windows.

“They’re ready Miss YL/N” The driver said before leaving the wheel to hold the door open for you. You smiled in thanks as you stepped out onto the carpet with full grace. The muttering and shouting of the press increased. Probably with the excitement that Yoongi is still stood on the red carpet and they are finally going to get pictures of the two of you together. Yoongi was wide eyed staring at you, trying his best to not let his jaw collapse to the floor. 

He’d realised why you’d kept the outfit away from him. The slit of your dress teased the front of your thigh under the royal blue dress. Your thigh was decorated with a leather strap wrapping round attached to a heart shaped metal ring. The dress ruffled neatly, delving into a v at your cleavage. The middle of the dress sat tight enough to reveal your figure but you made sure it was loose enough so you had some room; there would be lots of alcohol consumed throughout the night. It was long brushing lightly against the surface of the velvet red carpet beneath your feet. Your hair was in a pony tail which was curled to perfection, your fringe quaffed round into a wave shape, pinned and secured with copious amounts of hair spray.

Your red carpet smile was on show instantly; greeting the flashes. With elegant steps you took up poses at the ‘photo spot’. For the first time in a long time you was riddled with the pinch of nerves. These would be the first proper public photos of you together and actually ‘together’. Today that ‘together’ was his hand snug to your waist. His fingers digging in gently enough to not be detected in the photo evidence.

“I know why you kept that dress away from me now” leaning his head to your ear; both your smiles refusing to falter.

“Yeah and why’s that” you replied, still staring outwards innocently at the crowd.

“Because you knew for one that I wouldn’t believe how beautiful you look” Roles reversed he was now facing forward and you was leaning in to his ear

“Did I?”

“And two you knew I’d damn well be impatient to fuck you in it” The filth through the sweeter than sweet gummy smile had you turning to face him with a bright happy smile shrouding the absolute shock you felt internally. He mirrored your smile turning to you. The perfect red carpet couple shot.  The onlookers were probably begging to see a kiss. As much as you wanted nothing more; you would not give them the satisfaction. Both of your managements would also probably not take kindly to the action. He took your hand and you moved from the spotlight to the reception of the venue.

“Jesus they went nuts” Hobi chuckled slapping an arm at Yoongi’s shoulders when you re-joined the others. The flurry of noise reverberating around the whole room

“Kpop’s hottest couple” Jin toyed.

“Alright guys, calm your tits” You laughed, your eyes clapped onto another artist from you label and waved to get their attention.

“I’ll see you guys later when you win artist of the year yeah?” Aimed at the guys

“And I’ll see you for our performance” You left him with a gentle squeeze of his hand to join your agency to finally be ushered to your seats.

//

The buzz backstage oozed chaotic energy, runners running on their last legs searching for anything anyone needed last minute. You stood in the right wing in the same outfit as the music video; sound from the stage pushing your senses to their limit with the bass. Past the energetic fire of the Monsta X performance you could see Yoongi waiting in the other wing. The static of the radio of one of the stage directors buzzed behind you.

“Y/N” you turned to the call

“Erm Yoongi says you’re going kill it” She stood silent waiting for your response.

“Erm tell him I said to stop being a dweeb”

The stage manager had a smile on her face while communicating your professional message to the other manager. Your legs felt the weakness first, energy draining from your muscles.

The cheers erupted as the performance finished, half the boys heading towards you; Wonho included. The sweat glistening off them walking past you with warm knackered smiles. Wonho had just reached you with an even warmer smile placing a clamming gentle hand on your arm when you collapsed.

Your eyesight still non-existent; a constant blackness. You were conscious; you could make out all the scuffles of shoes scurrying around you.  You recognised the panicked tone of Yoongi, it was harsher and angrier than you remember ever hearing. The words not picked up by your dazed state. You felt a rush of air beside you move as a figure left you and was replaced with another. The blackness turned to fuzziness with colour and clarity finally returned to your vision. Yoongi was staring at you with fierce concern, pupils blown. His hand was stroking your head and brushing your cheek. You’d been moved to a small dressing room and set down on a low sitting sofa. Only Yoongi and the stage manager were present; she was avoiding eye contact leaning against the door finger pressing against her ear piece muttering. The brightness of the room had you squinting as you adjusted to your vision. The desk below the illuminated mirror was littered with an array of bottles powders and god knows what other beauty products.

“5 minutes until you’re up, are we going ahead?”

“Of course not she need medic…” Yoongi snapped

“I’m fine, we’re performing!” you interjected sitting up. You were met with daggers

“We are not” wide eyes looking at you with defiant glare.

You stood almost knocking him back.

“We’re on” Evil stares shooting at Yoongi. You brushed yourself off, gulping down the glass of orange juice which had been placed beside you and walked briskly towards the door. The manager opening the door and following you out. You knew you should have eaten but you just couldn’t; you couldn’t bare the thought of any negative comments about your body. The internet was cruel.

Yoongi’s going to be furious

Eyes welling up; but you had to push them away. The look of the absolute worry was shoved on his face; he may have looked angry but you knew that wasn’t how he really felt. No words were spoken as he was escorted in a rush to the other side of the stage.

Your stage persona fit over your face as smoothly as silk. So did his. He said nothing as you rested back to back waiting for the lights to illuminate. It was awful, the comfort you’d swoon at normally when he was close felt a million miles away.

The fighting and harsh words at the start of the song were strongly meant coming from his mouth; it was the emotion of the start of the song through and through. It hurt. The disagreement in the lyrics transformed into words of reconciliation. This was where your sincere words were laced with apology rung true. The audience were stunned with the secret authenticity of the performance. You’re harmonising with his softer rap even melted Yoongi’s demeanour. The closeness of your bodies singing to each other his hand in yours, fingers locked. You’re final note you hit perfectly, diaphragm giving you all the support it needed. As the lights dimmed, you both partly breathless in your finishing position your head resting on his chest and his hand cupping the back of your neck.

You really felt like the situation had calmed. The pair of you both finding comfort through the work you both lived for. It didn’t stop you briskly walking off in the opposite direction to him, more in shame than anything against him.

You ignored the multiple vibrations on your phone as award after award was given out. In your sight you noticed his head turn to you on multiple occasions moments after you felt another vibration, he was a few tables in front of. Far enough to not have any face to face contact. You finally got the signal to go to backstage. It’s not that you didn’t want to reply you just didn’t know how to talk to about it; so you played safe and avoided it. Temporarily.

“And the artist of the year award goes to” Taking your time building the suspension, the smile reached your face before you spoke

“They’ve achieved a phenomenal amount this year…BTS” you announced with pride blooming through every inch of you. They were all humble in their approach to the stage. You bowed to them one by one, first handing the award to Namjoon. Being closer to the boys they all came in to give you a hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. Congratulating each one in turn.

“I’m sorr…” you began

“I love you” He whispered before following the others in landing a kiss at your cheek. Your head snapped away with a huge shocked smile you couldn’t depress, unsure how to react. He just smiled as normal as anything compared to your expression.

The twitter memes are going to be priceless.

//

“God I love the after party” You sighed relieved slumping yourself onto Yoongi’s lap who was sat a table with his brothers all laughing away. There had been way too much alcohol to thankfully avoid any serious conversation that was overdue and necessary.

The after party was always a place artists and managements could truly relax; all media were not permitted. The lack of nosey eyes allowed artists to relax and be more themselves. You’d see couples that the Kpop world knew nothing about; there was even gay couples which the industry certainly wouldn’t approve of. It was the best part of the MAMA’s for sure. You certainly wouldn’t be able to be on his lap with his hand parked on your bare thigh.

“Bet you didn’t think you’d be think you’d be handing out the award to your boyfriend did ya” Jimin asked, cheeks flushed out with alcohol.

“Actually I had no doubt you’d get it, you’re smashing this industry with a sledgehammer and It couldn’t happen to a better bunch of guys”

“Thank you Y/N but please go back to being the sarcastic, high maintenance woman we know and love, you’ve had way too much to drink”

You shoved Jungkook knocking the cheek out of him. You got yourself up and made your way to the ladies room. Evil plan ready for you to execute; stepping out of your thong and scrunching it in your hand before heading back to the buzzing room, the live band filling the room with all the songs from the last few years. Side stepping and dodging through the sea of inebriated idols you finally got to your table. You resumed your position on Yoongi’s lap pushing your behind down into his lap harder than you needed too; shielding your hand shoving the underwear into his hand like it was normal as you carried on talking to Hobi about god knows what. Yoongi stole a glance as to what’s been gifted to him. His grip on your thigh tightened at the recognition. His hand slid in his pocket exchanging your underwear for his phone. You opened your phone at this vibration

-If we’re not back in our room sharpish I will not be responsible for my actions-

Another vibration.

-I need you in that dress-

You read the texts, not replying on purpose plonking your phone on the table. Yoongi’s hand that was nursing his glass grew tighter. His hand moved further up your thigh unapologetically. You grabbed it standing up removing any more temptation.

“Well I’m going to call it a night guys. I can’t deal with Jin’s dads joke anymore” you teased, Jin flipped you off in retaliation.

“I can say I agree” Yoongi agreed standing up holding your hand; Jimin noticed.

“Yeah sure, we all know why your checking out early” Jimin teased. You were too influenced by alcohol to be embarrassed.

“And what Park Jimin? I can tell you now his hips would even give yours a run for your money.

“ooooooooooo” Jungkook oooed with the others joining in. Jimin shrugged back leaning on the table defeated erupting in giggles. Yoongi shook his head concealing the chuckle funnelling through his lips practically dragging you away before you embarrassed him even more.

“I’m just going to go apologise to Wonho, I’ll meet you by the elevator”

Apparently when you passed out Wonho was the one to catch you and take you to the side room. When Yoongi had rushed in you were conscious again but only just; you were still unresponsive. Yoongi had asked immediately what was wrong and what happened. Wonho knowing you and exactly what it probably was responded ‘She’s fine, she just wouldn’t have eaten’ to which Yoongi snapped back ‘Well that’s not exactly fine is it, get out!’ You remembered hearing a harsh tone which you now know belonged to Yoongi.

//

“You did not compare my hip movements to Jimin’s”

“It… it just came out, I’m sorry” You laughed stepping into the elevator. Giggles carrying on as you leant against the back on the mirror.

“You definitely will be” Flushing his body against yours as the doors dinged shut.

“What? You going to get those hips working?” you teased smirking at each other before he punished you with a hot kiss. You pulled at his shirt needing every part of him as close to you as humanly possible. The heat that flooded every inch you when he was flush against you.

“Aren’t we going to talk about earlier?” His forehead leaning on yours, hands cradling yours.

“Leave that until tomorrow plleeaaasseee” you whined.

“I promise we’ll talk about it, I just need you first” you added.

“Well I better make you sure don’t have the energy to get out of bed for a while then”

//

You dragged him into you by his tie pressing you against the desk in the hotel room. His lips showering yours with attention, his hands preoccupied smoothly gliding up the outside of both of your thighs dragging it over your behind.

“You smell and look sooo good” Inhaling at your neck, the exhale heating your skin already flushed with heat; result of the alcohol and the need for him. His fingertips now up the inside of your thigh. The anticipation had you gripping harder your already balled fist entangling the chest of his white shirt. His jacket already shed on the floor. You hand gripped his wrist.

“Uh uh” you teased

“Not yet” His eyes rolled, bottom lip pushed out.

“Don’t pout” you scolded. You pushed him giving yourself room to escape to grab a chair round the oak wood table and placed it facing the bed. He waited obediently for you to fetch him by his tie; shoving him into the chair stepping yourself over one of his thighs. You began fiddling his tie un-done; his eyes following your movements with a diligent gaze, hoping to get a glimpse of where you were going.

“Hands behind your back” Eye flashing excited gazing up at you. You tightened the tie at his wrists.

“I’ve happily imagined having you tied up to a chair since you released Agust D” you confessed. His head shot up contorted with a raised eyebrow

“I can think you’re an asshole and still want to fuck you” justifying yourself. He smirked with approval.

“You know when I’ve had a drink my patience and control over myself sucks, please tell what you’re planning, I’m already desperate …”

“Well this will be frustrating for you then” straddling one of his thighs teasing each and every one of his button undone. Giving you access to the milky skin beneath. Nails scratching down his torso; faint red trails down his stomach.

“You really are a tease you know that”

“Would you want me any other way?”

He responded with silence.

“Thought so, you’re going to watch me get myself off” His head shot straight to your direction as you sat on the edge of the bed crossing your legs.

“Wh…”

“But you’re going to tell me how to do it” you interjected as you stood

“Dress on or off” already clasping at the zip.

“On” your eyebrow cocked in response.

“If anyone’s going to strip that dress off you it’s going to be me” You shrugged your shoulders loosely and slid yourself on the bed, holding his gaze tightly with yours.

“Shall I start here” placing your hand on the inside of your thigh

“Mmmhmm go slowly higher” you did. Depending on how desperate he was will influence how much he will tease and torture you. Generally when he’s tipsy he’ll torture you until you’re near enough crying with desperation for any contact which he normally denies you; when he’s past tipsy he’s impatient. It’s a dangerous line you love to walk.

“Tell me how wet you are for me”

So he’s way past tipsy

His eyes were raging with nothing but fire yet the way he was fidgeting told you he was struggling. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

“How desperate are you to know?” Teasing yourself, you were so wet; and he’d hardly done anything as well as you.

“Please baby” he whined

“I need to know”

He was right

“Wet enough for you to come and fuck me right now” your words dousing the fire in his eyes with petrol

He was not expecting that.

You ran your fingers slowly through your arousal, not patient enough to have no contact but patient enough to go slow until he’d finished picking his jaw up from the floor.

“Go in slow circles baby, I love watching you get impatient”

He kept you doing slow circles for far too long. The asshole always did it, seeing you slowly build, craving anything harder and faster; he thrived on it. You’d curse and whine but when the orgasm ripped through you, all that slow build released in an instant always had you thanking him.

He said nothing; eyes fixated on only you. You’d fully laid on the bed doing as he asked.

“Yoongi” you whined, the fabric of your dress becoming uncomfortable at your heating skin.

“Mmmhmm” he replied

“Please give me more” You didn’t need more, the spring at your centre was already tightening; you  wanted nothing more.

He ignored your request and remained silent. Eyes taking everything in; how your back was arching off the bed, how your whines became longer and more breathless. He let you carry on until your legs began to quiver

“Stop!” You did but more out of surprise than actual obedience.

“I’m not giving you that baby, you know that’s mine”

           You’d never tell him but you loved how selfish he’d become; every orgasm he wanted to steal from you. He wanted each one to be caused by him. It killed him to go away and you made damn sure you teased him and drove him crazy when he was; he made damn sure he got you back when you were home.

“You’re cruel!” you panted in defeat hauling yourself off the bed. You straddled his waist the bulge in his trousers pressing against your throbbing core and rocked a few times; stealing a soft moan past your lips.

“And you’re not? He countered.

Fair point

“Tell me why I should untie you?” sucking in your bottom lip

“Because you love it when I fuck you so hard that you scream my name and I can’t do that if I’m tied to a chair can I and I’ve been good for you”

He was not wrong and he knew it.

Kissing him you went behind him and pulled at the knot releasing him. You slid the shirt of his shoulders. He left and made his way to the balcony door unclicking the lock.

What the fuck, now is not the time to get some air

“You coming?” his expression gave nothing away, looking as calm and stoic as he does when resting.

In a huff you crossed your arms pouting

“I thought you were going to fuck me? You’re making me regret untying you”

“I am…on the balcony, so get yourself out here before I drag you out” You stood their blank, your body preparing for the adrenaline you felt start to heat up. You took a few seconds of pondering the consequences of getting caught, before your body took over and went out putting its needs above your better judgement. The sea of still orange hued lights mingled with the specs of headlights moving slowly through the streets.

If you wasn’t so desperate you’d have felt the chill of the breeze lazily swaying in the air. The second your foot hit the cold stone floor you were dragged and pushed hard against the rails, his frustration apparent. Nails biting harder through your dress; hands running up the slit of your dress less than delicately. The tips of your hands tugging at the base of his hair at his neck keeping his lips harsh against yours.

“You’re so wet for me, and you didn’t let me have it” He purred into you.

“It’s all yours now” you dragged his hand through how much you needed him. Your sigh was captured in his mouth, he pressed himself against your body harder pleased with the result.

“You’re just so impatient” you teased. His hand switching and taking control of yours and near enough threw you round pressing your stomach firmly against the cold barrier; hands automatically bracing round the bar as he shoved your dress up and over your ass.

“What if someone see’s, our neighbours have balconies to you know” your voice pitching higher at the end when his hand came down harsh; stinging your behind. Part of you was too far gone to care who saw, but your rational side knew it would be an absolute media shit storm.

“They’ll only see if we take too long, and there’s no way that’s happening baby” his belt brushed against your behind unhooked and undone as he relieved himself from his trousers.

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m ready Min Yoongi” you warned needing everything from him right now.

“Done” he obliged pulling your hips backs; perfect angle for him to thrust into you.

“You feel so fucking sweet” he panted through a heavy breath.

“Shut up and just make me cum already” you commanded, pushing back into him. You were met with a violent tug your neck was strained, hair pulled back.

“Now who’s impatient” You wordlessly responded clenching around him. His head knocked into the top of your shoulders; faltering.

“God you’re going to end me one of these days” he gurgled at your neck. Time was a non-existent factor, neither of you needed long, the anger, the passion, the alcohol saw to that.

“Tell me your close, cum for me” he panted; knowing he was not going to be able to keep going for much longer.

“Ask me again” you whined, releasing your hand from the rails and ran them up to your clit. His hips starting to buck unevenly.

“Please fucking cum for me, I want to feel you shake around me as you cum…undone” he stuttered.

You were done, crying out expletives into the brisk night whining his name.

“Jesu…”

You were both done. Adrenaline pouring out you. You’d just let one of the biggest hip hop idols fuck you on the balcony of your hotel; and you didn’t get caught.

“I take it we’ve made up fully now” you enquired in a half chuckle.

“I could never stay mad at you. I just want you to be happy, with me and within yourself. Promise me we’ll work on this”

The pair of you looked less like animals and more of a couple enjoying the ethereal skyline together. You were in his arms, gazing into his blown out eyes. Both of your chests slowing down bit by bit.

“I love it when you’re soppy; if only army knew just how much” you toyed. He nudged you from the side.

“I promise I’ll try, be patient with me” finally accepting now you was in the unit with him you needed to sort your shit out.

“Well never stop being a complete closet softie and fucking me like that and we’ll be fine” quickly coating over the seriousness with cheek and humour. Your star move.

“I better start making sure I leave my studio a bit earlier then, can’t have you going without  what your incredible ass deserves can I” he tucked your hair behind your ear, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well if I knew all it took for you to say that was me slipping some underwear to you in public I would have done it sooner. You pushed your hands against his chest. Your body fully drained of adrenaline; the pinch of the freeing air was beginning to feel harsh against your skin. He shot you a defeated smirk as you walked past heading in to the warmth of the room.

“I’m going to replace this dress with fluffy pyjama’s seeing as you can’t resist me in it”

He Followed your footsteps into the warmth.

“Baby I can’t resist you in anything, especially! your pink unicorn pyjamas”

“If your hinting for round two you can forget it, I’m exhausted” His hand pinched at your zip unlatching the metal teeth with the other hand edging round your hip.

“I thought that was a pretty good try for me” You Slipped out of the snug dress, it pooling at the floor round your ankles.  You unhooked your bra and quickly snuggled yourself in your fluffy top. A mocking wolf whistle left his lips. The daggers you shot him were broken down by your lips which couldn’t do anything but find his sarcasm amusing.

“Fuck you Yoongi” you sniped. Your bag thudding on the floor. Knowing the fake seriousness was non-existed in your pyjama top and nothing else

“Yeah?” He closed the space between you with rapid predator steps. The lack of time stole you your chance to defend yourself. You squealed as you were shoved onto the bed hands pinned above your head.

“I know you’re tired you so I just want you to lay back and let me take care of you, I do promise you’ll be even more tired after you’ve had me between your legs. I just want to hear you whine for me once more” Your eye’s shone brightly absorbing the sparkle that danced in his.

“God I love you” you breathed. His hand trickling over your chest under your top blossoming the goosebumps in a trail of where his hands had been

“But if you don’t hold me all god damn night after this I’ll…” He cut you off, the kiss was hot, hard but full of need and want with a undertone of softness he’d reserved only for you.

“If you take this off I will” He tugged at your jumper lifting it up giving him access to clamp his lips over one of your buds.

“I thought you couldn’t resist me in it?” You teased, his kisses going lower.

“Your skin against mine though feels much better”

“Fine! Now are you going to make me victim of your tongue technology or not”

“You know damn well I will”

[shillanseva]

Mitchsen prompt: Role Reversal. Aubrey takes a liking to Beca from the first moment they met, ambushed her in the shower and then was incredibly flirty with her. Chloe is the Aca-Nazi hell bent of kicking Beca out of the Bellas. Bonus point if their personalities stay the same (Intense Aubrey, bubbly Chloe)

@madammayor28 Alright so I tried to write this prompt like four times before I finally got what I have now. I really liked this prompt so I wanted to do it right. I’m still not completely happy with it but I figured it was better to get it out there rather than drive myself nuts with it. So I hope you like it! Thanks for the prompt. 

Aubrey Posen had two problems. The first of which was a tiny alt. girl by the name of Beca Mitchell who was the cutest pain in the ass that Aubrey had ever encountered. The second was her best friend and literal bubble of cheer Chloe Beale.

Now normally, Aubrey wouldn’t classify Chloe as anything other than a godsend. She was the best friend that Aubrey ever could have asked for, an amazing roommate, and just a genuinely good person. That is, until Beca arrived. Then it was like suddenly something snapped in the redhead, and the only thing Aubrey could liken the mood swings to was the possibility that Chloe’s body had been possessed by the spirit of Dolores Umbridge and Beca was a Gryffindor.

Chloe hated Beca. She hated Beca with a vehemence that shocked most anyone who had ever met the redhead. No one ever would have guessed that Chloe even had the ability to hate someone, let alone hate them as strongly as she hated Beca. Her best friend was Aubrey “General” Posen, one of the most easily disliked people on campus, and she still chose to hate Beca Mitchell, resident loner and newest weirdo at the campus radio station.

It was driving Aubrey up the wall. All Aubrey wanted to do was put together a winning acapella team. She wanted them to sing well and dance well, and she didn’t care if they got along outside of rehearsals as long as they kept their shit together during practice.

Beca had been doing her best to field Chloe’s anger. It had started at the activity fair. Beca had meandered by the booth and stopped when Chloe nearly smacked her in the face with a flier. And Chloe had been recognized immediately.

The year before, the Barden Bellas had made it to the ICCA’s after a grueling year under the leadership of Alice the Terror. She was a tyrant in every sense of the word with some added song and dance, and she blamed Chloe for their loss—probably the real start of Chloe’s problem. Chloe accidentally set the stage on fire during their last performance—something involving a broken heel and an unfortunate run in with a stage hand and his spot light. And Beca had seen the video and enjoyed it immensely. Needless to say, their first interaction didn’t go well.

Which sucked. At least as far as Aubrey was concerned, because Beca was cute. And Aubrey may have flirted with her after Chloe stormed off at the activity fair. And Beca had sort of dug it and might have given Aubrey her number—not that Aubrey would ever tell Chloe that. She would probably explode.

Aubrey had a serious toner for Beca though. The night of the activity fair when she had returned to her shared apartment with Chloe, Aubrey tried to convince Chloe that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having Beca on the team. This had led to a stream of colorfully phrased insults at the brunette’s expense from her “ear monstrosities” and “emo makeup” straight down to her high school scene-kid chucks. Aubrey had liked the edgy look on Beca, but Chloe assumed it meant she should be in prison for arson or something. It was honestly shocking to Aubrey to hear the way Chloe ranted about Beca. She didn’t think Chloe had one judgmental bone in her body, but apparently Beca brought each and every one of them out. Aubrey had decided then to forget about Beca for Chloe’s sake.

And then there’d been that shower.

Aubrey was doing her best to forget about Beca. Her best, meaning she only sort of watched Beca on campus rather than full-fledged stalking her. She would catch glimpses of the freshman around campus usually with headphones in her ears or on her laptop. Sometimes she would be sitting with a guy she recognized as the other radio intern. Aubrey didn’t like when he was around, but knew she couldn’t let it bother her because she and Beca had spoken once, and Chloe’s friendship meant more than whatever fling she and Beca might have had.

She was trying to give up on talking to Beca again. She really was. So it’s not like she tried to end up in Beca’s dorm after her morning workout the week before auditions. She just hated the gym showers and Baker Hall was the closest dorm to Barden’s Wellness Center.

She had just finished rinsing the conditioner from her hair when she heard foot steps enter the locker room. The slap of flipflops against the floor made Aubrey pause and listen. She was technically breaking like ten rules by being there so she didn’t want to get caught by an RA with good timing.

Whoever had entered was humming softly to themselves. Aubrey recognized the song as Titanium, a David Guetta song if she remembered correctly. It had hit the top forty stations not too long ago and Chloe had taken a particular liking to it. Aubrey would often hear it through the walls of Chloe’s room at night when she was doing God only knows what.

The humming passed her and Aubrey returned to her shower. She pulled face wash from her shower caddy and closed her eyes enjoying the feeling of the soap against her skin, but when a voice rang out clear through the bathroom her eyes shot open.

“Shit,” she mumbled to herself as she tried to rinse the soap from her eyes. She shut down the shower and grabbed her towel before wrapping it around herself and shuffling out of the stall.

The voice that distracted her was coming from a few shower stalls over, and she went to stand in front of it. She knew she was being creepy. She knew it, and yet, she was still debating whether or not to talk to the girl behind the curtain.

“Hello?” a familiar voice said. Aubrey’s eyes widened as she realized she’d been caught. And then widened more when she realized who was singing.

“Beca?” Aubrey asked. Her heart stuttered for a second with hope. When Beca’s face appeared around the curtain, Aubrey’s smile beamed at the brunette. “You can sing?!”

The smile on Aubrey’s face was almost painful. Beca’s voice had been amazing. It was low and feminine and sort of gave Aubrey chills. Beca was slightly flushed and she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the shower.

“The tone of your voice is beautiful,” Aubrey said trying to back off on the excitement a little. She didn’t want to scare Beca off, especially not now that she knew Beca actually could audition for the Bellas if she could just convince her. “How high does your belt go? You have to audition for the Bellas.”

“Dude,” Beca said, smirking. “You need to breathe.”

Aubrey hadn’t even realized how quickly she was speaking and she snapped her mouth shut. She met Beca’s eyes and felt herself tense when she realized they were both very much naked. And Aubrey was very much naked standing in the middle of a dorm bathroom in a towel, completely out in the open.

Beca seemed to realize the same thing because her eyes dropped and slowly ran up Aubrey’s body and ended finally on the smirk that had settled on Aubrey’s lips.

“Like whatcha see?” Aubrey asked with a wink. Beca nodded dumbly and then shook her head when she realized what she was doing.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Looking for some action,” Aubrey responded like duh. Beca snorted and shook her head again. “Showering. The gym’s showers are gross.”

The sound of footsteps entering the locker room startled Aubrey into motion. Fearing the arrival of an RA, she pushed Beca back into the shower and ducked behind the curtain with her.

“Dude,” Beca said grabbing for anything and trying to fight the flip in her stomach that resulted from Aubrey incidentally pushing her against a wall. Aubrey set a hand over Beca’s mouth quickly.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Aubrey clarified. Beca glared at her from behind the hand, and Aubrey glanced down slightly smirking and raising an eyebrow at Beca. Her amusement grew as the slight flush on Beca’s cheeks broadened to her neck and ears.

Aubrey stood there thinking for a second. Beca really did have a lovely voice. She wanted to hear it again. Actually, she was afraid she would never hear it again. “Hey you were singing Titanium right?”

“You know David Guetta?” Beca said, eyes widening.

“What?” Aubrey said and shook her head slightly. “Have I been living under a rock?”

Aubrey watched Beca’s mouth fall a little bit and continued, “Look, I heard you singing. You sounded great. Could you maybe sing it again?”

“We’re naked,” Beca said, voice dropping incredulously. “In the shower. And you want me to sing for you?”

“It’s not like I asked you to sleep with me,” Aubrey breathed, annoyed. Though, judging by Beca’s heated face and sudden desire to look anywhere but at Aubrey, she’d say that maybe Beca wouldn’t have minded that.  “Just sing it. I promise I’m not going to do anything crass.”

Beca sighed with a vocal groan, but relented after several seconds of laser-like eye contact with Aubrey. Her rich, earthy voice filled the small shower stall and sent shivers down Aubrey’s spine. She almost forgot to join her because she was so enraptured.

Beca’s eyes met Aubrey’s as the blonde turned the song into a duet. She felt her walls give way under Aubrey’s forest green eyes, and her breath hitched slightly. There eyes held each other for several seconds after they ceased singing.

“Wow,” Aubrey whispered. She hadn’t wanted to ruin the moment, but if she hadn’t spoken, there was no way she would have been able to stop herself from surging forward to kiss Beca—under normal circumstances, maybe not that big of a deal, but they were still naked. In the shower. After Aubrey had just forced herself into the poor freshman’s shower.

She held her breath for a second and looked away from Beca to calm down before meeting Beca’s eyes again. “Saturday. Bella auditions. You should be there.”

She left the shower as quickly as she dared, worried the stray RA might still be around—worried Beca might say no. That night, Aubrey had been happy, but anxious. If Chloe had noticed she didn’t say anything. She knew she was acting weird though, jumpy. She was waiting for Chloe to ask, and Aubrey knew she would never lie to Chloe which meant telling her about her morning with Beca.

The next week passed slow. Aubrey kept a look out for Beca around campus, but it seemed like the freshman was avoiding her. Aubrey didn’t really blame her, but it did leave her disappointed all the same.

When Saturday finally came Aubrey felt so anxious, she was surprised she wasn’t vibrating in place. With each passing audition, she grew more and more tense. Her jaw was sore from how hard she was clenching her teeth. When Justin announced that auditions were over, she could have cried. Chloe opened her mouth to say something to Aubrey, assuming that her friend was upset about their prospects, but when Aubrey’s eyes suddenly lit up, she snapped her mouth shut.

“Wait!” Aubrey yelled. “There’s one more.”

Chloe looked back to the stage, and felt her lip curl as a short brunette stepped out from backstage. She did a double take back to Aubrey who had suddenly relaxed, smiling back against her seat, and Chloe scowled further. Had Aubrey invited her?

“I didn’t know we were supposed to prepare that song,” Beca said with a grimace as she moved cautiously to stand in front of the pair of captains.

“That’s okay,” Aubrey smiled warmly at Beca. “Sing whatever.

“But Aubrey—” Chloe was cut off by a glare from her friend.

Beca stepped forward and then settled down onto the stage, crossing her legs. She pointed to a cup of pens that sat between Chloe and Aubrey, “May I?”

Aubrey nodded her head and Beca grabbed the cup and dumped the pens onto the table making sure that none of them fell onto the floor. When Beca sat back on the stage, she set the cup in front of her upside down and began a quiet percussive beat. Her alto voice joined the beat soon after.

Aubrey felt like she was hearing Beca for the first time all over again. She was mesmerized by the sound. She honestly felt like she could fall in love with Beca just by listening to her sing—a thought that startled her enough to look sideways at Chloe to make sure her friend hadn’t seen her going gooey-eyed.

Chloe was looking at Beca like she’d grown a third head. No way could this walking travesty have a voice like that. She was better than ninety-percent of the other singers they’d heard that day. It wasn’t acceptable. Beca didn’t even like acapella. And she definitely wasn’t Bella material.

When Beca finished her song, Aubrey was all teeth with a smile that stretched across her face. The sound of a throat clearing distracted her from the compliment she was about to bestow upon Beca, and instead she turned to Chloe who was handing a pink audition sheet to the freshman.

“You need a form,” Chloe said not looking up from her stack of papers that she was now slowly shuffling into a neat pile. “You didn’t prepare the audition song, so don’t expect to hear from us.”

Beca’s face fell, and Aubrey looked at Chloe. The red head gave her a look like “well she didn’t.”

They argued that day. Aubrey and Chloe had never fought before, but Aubrey fought for Beca on their team like she was trying to save a puppy from being euthanized—like Beca’s life depended on being in this group. And while maybe it wasn’t Beca’s life on the line, Aubrey didn’t even know how much Beca needed to be a part of the Bellas. Her dad had made her a deal that she needed to join a club or organization, and so far, the Bellas were the only thing she thought she could stomach. She certainly wasn’t going to spend an hour running in a circle with those kids she saw at orientation.

It took three hours before Chloe finally relented and agreed to recruit Beca. Aubrey had a point. They needed extra members in case they lost some along the way. Chloe just hoped Beca would be one of the ones that they lost.

Beca was surprised at how happy she was when Aubrey showed up at her dorm that night—even if she did seem like an axe murderer with that hood. Beca had actually sort of enjoyed being kidnapped by Aubrey, and not even in a kinky way. She liked the closeness of Aubrey’s hand guiding her from her lower back, and how Aubrey had to press close to Beca to pull the hood off later that night.

Aubrey knew exactly what she was doing too. She pressed herself Beca just enough to be misconstrued as innocent, just enough to be seen as Aubrey being a touchy kind of person—which she wasn’t. And Chloe noticed.

She had been watching the way Aubrey interacted with Beca. She had been watching how Aubrey stood just a little closer to Beca than any of the other Bellas when she pulled her hood off, how Aubrey had watched Beca during the anti-Treblemaker part of their oath as if trying to gauge Beca’s reaction, and how Aubrey had winked to Beca when she handed the freshman the goblet of wine when all was said and done. Aubrey had a crush but she wasn’t going to let that ruin her last chance at a national title.

Chloe decided to give her best friend the benefit of the doubt. It was hood night. Aubrey could work off her frustrations, and hopefully forget about Beca. That hope was unfortunately dashed when Chloe caught sight of Beca talking to one of the new Trebles and Aubrey watching from several feet away as she pretended to listen to Amy. She couldn’t tell if Beca was flirting with Jesse or not, but it didn’t seem to matter because his existence was all it took to rub both Chloe and Aubrey the wrong way, though for entirely different reasons.

It took an hour and at least three drinks before Aubrey finally got up the nerve to approach Beca. She did so quietly, coming to stand beside the equally quiet freshman without a word. Beca had spent most of the last hour watching others enjoy themselves from the sideline and a half full red solo cup rested in her hand.

“I’m glad you showed up,” Aubrey said quietly. “I didn’t—I didn’t think you would.”

Beca didn’t respond right away, choosing instead to follow Chloe’s figure across the party as she went to replenish her drink. “I wasn’t going to.”

Aubrey nodded. “But you did.”

Beca smirked at her. “When a hot blonde shows up naked in my shower, begging, I try not to disappoint.”

“Do you often have hot blondes show up in your shower?” Aubrey said stepping closer to Beca. Aubrey knew she was a little drunk, but damn if Beca didn’t make her feel a little light headed anyway. She wanted to be close to the brunette.

“Only ones that force me to sing,” Beca laughed, bumping her hip against Aubrey’s. It was enough to make the blonde feel a little off-balance so she reached out to grab Beca’s arm. Beca smirked at Aubrey. “Had a little to drink, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” Aubrey smiled and straightened herself. She was very close to Beca now. Aubrey’s front was up against Beca’s arm which she hadn’t released. “I’m really glad you came.”

“I’m kind of glad I came too,” Beca said leaning back against one of the concrete seats. She felt awkward saying it. She didn’t do emotions. Even admitting she was happy to be at a party felt too intimate.

“Let’s go dance,” Aubrey said suddenly yanking Beca off her seat by her arm. She yelped as she tried to keep up with Aubrey down the stairs.

“You do realize my legs are only like two feet long right,” Beca yelled after her. “Holy shit, dude. You’re gonna break my legs.”

“You’re fine,” Aubrey said as she reached the bottom of the stairs and caught Beca on the bottom step. “Just means I get to hold onto you,” she finished with a wink. Beca snorted. She wasn’t drunk enough for this yet. She told Aubrey to hold on for a second while she got herself a new drink and downed it almost immediately, then got another.

“I needed to get on your level,” Beca said as she returned to Aubrey. Without an answer, Aubrey pulled her out into the crowd and laid her arms over Beca’s shoulders. After about five songs, both women were seriously feeling the effects of their drinks thanks to Stacie who had been passing around shots to the other Bellas. Aubrey still managed to drink twice as much as Beca though. With each song, Aubrey and Beca only got closer and closer to each other until Aubrey’s back was pressed against Beca’s front and they were rocking slowly against each other to the beat of the song.

Beca was feeling incredibly warm by this point. Aubrey was making her feel things that she knew she was better not feeling about her new captain.

“God you’re sexy,” Beca whispered to herself then quickly glanced to Aubrey’s face to see if the blonde had heard her. Apparently, she had, because Aubrey was smirking at Beca. Here eyes were half-lidded and had darkened considerably since the beginning of the night.  

“You know,” Aubrey said as she turned around. She leaned in against Beca and whispered next to her ear. “We could head back to my place.”

Beca shivered at Aubrey’s hot breath against her ear. She wanted nothing more than to say yes. She really did, but Aubrey was drunk. It wouldn’t be right. So no, she couldn’t. But she could at least make sure that Aubrey got home safe, so rather than answer, she grabbed Aubrey’s hand and tugged her out of the crowd. Aubrey took the lead soon after they left the amphitheater and pulled Beca close to her. She wrapped an arm around Beca’s waist and leaned heavily into her.

They reached Aubrey’s apartment after about fifteen minutes of walking. Luckily it was a cool, clear night and there was no rush. Beca quite enjoyed the closeness of the walk, even with Aubrey occasionally stumbling into her. She wasn’t exactly sober herself so she would sometimes stumble right back.

Aubrey fumbled with the keys in her hand until she managed to get them into the lock and push the door open. The apartment was neat and simply decorated. Beca thought it fit Aubrey’s personality.

“You have a roommate?” Beca asked, curious.

“Yeah,” Aubrey said as she collapsed onto the couch and kicked her shoes off into the wall. She let out a soft “oops” in response. “Chloe. She probably won’t be home tonight.”

“You live with Chloe?” Beca asked. Shit. She really shouldn’t be there then. “I should go then.”

“Why?” Aubrey pouted.

“Bree…” Beca said. Aubrey grinned at the nickname. “Chloe hates me. I probably shouldn’t be here when she gets home.”

“She won’t be home tonight,” Aubrey said as she grabbed Beca’s arm and pulled her down onto the couch. “Please stay with me.”

“That damn pout,” Beca said to herself. “Fine. But Aubrey…”

She wasn’t sure how to even say it without it sounding like a rejection. She liked Aubrey. There was no question about that. But she definitely couldn’t do anything with her while she was drunk.

“But Beca…” Aubrey mimicked.

Beca bit her lip, which was probably a mistake because it immediately distracted Aubrey.

“Aubrey,” Beca said pulling back from the blonde to sit on the couch and face her. “I’ll stay tonight. But you know we can’t do anything right?”

“Why?” Aubrey said quietly. She looked sad.

“You’re drunk, Bree,” Beca explained. “It wouldn’t be right. If we sleep together, I want to remember it. I want you to remember it.”

Aubrey contemplated that idea for a second. “You have to go on a date with me then.”

“Oh really?” Beca said smirking. “And what makes you think I want to date you?”

“Oh please,” Aubrey snorted. “You drooled when you saw me in that shower.”

“I liked what I saw,” Beca said. She smiled at Aubrey. A real genuine smile. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Beca spent the night on Aubrey’s couch after Aubrey decided there was no way the tiny freshman was going to walk alone across campus where all those frat boy predators lurk. Beca thought she was ridiculous, but was also sort of flattered that Aubrey cared about her safety. She woke the next morning to a cup of hot coffee next to her on the coffee table and a note that let her know Aubrey had gone on a run and she was welcome to her fridge.

She had no idea how Aubrey could be out running after the amount of alcohol she’d consumed the night before. Beca herself stayed huddled on the couch with her cup of coffee clutched to her chest. She wasn’t a morning person, and she already sort of loved Aubrey for making her coffee. She figured she should probably leave soon though. The first Bella rehearsal was that afternoon and Beca needed to wash the booze out of her pores.

She left a responding note for Aubrey and then began the trek back across campus. She was ready to go to rehearsal about twenty minutes before she actually had to be there. She had no clue what to expect from an acapella rehearsal, especially if Chloe was in charge.

To her relief, it seemed like Aubrey ran most of the rehearsals for the Bellas. Though what they did that afternoon could barely be considered a rehearsal. It was more like gym class. They ran laps and stairs for almost an hour. Beca felt like she was dying, but was highly amused by Aubrey slapping her ass every time she passed by.

Beca felt Chloe’s eyes on her the whole rehearsal. It was like Chloe was trying to melt her brain. Her hopes for Aubrey directing all of the rehearsal were later dashed when Chloe took over to start teaching them choreography. Chloe was harsh. She made them repeat sequence after sequence until Beca felt like her feet were going to start bleeding. And she knew that Chloe was teaching them the same dance routine that the Bellas had performed the year before. It had her constantly rolling her eyes.

“Roll your eyes any more and they’ll roll out of your head,” Chloe had said reacting to Beca’s disdain.

“You sound like my father,” Beca said as she moved through the next segment of choreography.

“At least I don’t dance like your father,” Chloe responded with a glare.

Beca snorted. Honestly, she kind of liked arguing with Chloe. Pissed off Chloe’s face matched her hair. “Yeah, you’re worse,” Beca said.

“Ladies,” Aubrey warned as she walked over to Beca. She stood behind her and grabbed her arms as she moved through one of the more complicated hand motions and guided her through it. She dropped her mouth close to Beca’s ear and whispered, “We need to decide when I get to take you on our date.”

Beca chuckled and turned her head slightly to look at Aubrey. “You think I’m still gonna go on a date with you after you made me do cardio?”

“Maybe I have another workout in mind,” Aubrey said huskily into Beca’s ear. A shiver dashed down Beca’s spine.

“Tease,” Beca muttered.

“Alright ladies,” Chloe called from behind them. “Let’s call it a day. I expect to see you here tomorrow evening on time and ready to run.”

“Is she always like this,” Beca asked Aubrey.

“No.” Aubrey frowned. “She wasn’t like this until after nationals last year. If anything, I would have been the hardass normally.”

“I bet it’s hot when you boss people around,” Beca smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aubrey said. Beca just nodded, liking the idea more than she would have thought. Aubrey laughed.

They were interrupted when Chloe cleared her throat behind Aubrey. “We need to plan tomorrow’s rehearsal,” she said noticing how close Beca and Aubrey were standing.

“Right,” Aubrey said. She gave Beca a sad look. “I’ll text you later okay?”

Rehearsals followed that pattern for the next couple weeks as they approached their first performance. Beca would piss Chloe off until inevitably Aubrey would step between them and distract Beca with mild flirting until Chloe moved on. Aubrey and Beca were able to plan a few dates in that time. Nothing fancy as Beca just wasn’t that kind of woman. She preferred laid back where she could get to know Aubrey without the pressure of dressing up or worrying about her image. They still hadn’t said anything to Chloe though. Aubrey couldn’t imagine how her best friend would react. She’d be angry that’s for sure. But Aubrey knew that Chloe wasn’t dumb. She knew that Chloe had noticed something was different. She just wasn’t sure if she’d noticed what.

Their first performance was a disaster that culminated in Chloe revealing that she had vocal nodules, a condition that had made Aubrey gasp in concern. Beca felt bad for the redhead. If they were that bad than it made returning to the ICCA’s that much harder for Chloe. And even though Chloe hated her, Beca kind of understood why she was such a bitch—didn’t mean she was going to lay off on her though. Chloe needed to be willing to work with the rest of the Bellas. They needed to be themselves, not the old Bellas.

By the time regionals came around, Beca and Aubrey were attached at the hip whenever Chloe wasn’t around. Beca tried not to let it bother her, but she knew Chloe was important to Aubrey and she couldn’t help wondering if Aubrey was ashamed of dating Beca. Aubrey had noticed that Beca seemed a little more reserved now whenever Chloe was around. She bickered less with the redhead and made fewer passes at her girlfriend-not-girlfriend.

Regionals seemed to make things worse for Beca. After throwing a punch to protect Jesse, and then tossing a trophy through a window, Beca found herself tossed into a jail cell. And because Aubrey couldn’t let Chloe know that she was basically in love with her rival, there were very few ways that Aubrey could help Beca. Jesse ended up being the one to call Beca’s father and bailed her out.

When Beca got back to her dorm that night and found the Bellas had camped out on her bunk at first she’d been happy, but then she’d fought with Chloe. And this time she wasn’t even trying to fight with Chloe, she was trying to help. They needed a new set list, even Aubrey could agree with that, but Chloe was adamant that they return to nationals the same way that they’d gotten there the first time. Beca’s mixes were personal so the fact that she was willing to share them meant a lot. And then she got completely rejected.

And that just added to the rejection she was already feeling when Aubrey hadn’t been the one to bail her out, but the guy who she was constantly rejecting. Beca could feel herself pulling away from the group—feel herself pulling away from Aubrey. It made everything that happened at semi-finals sort of inevitable.

“I told you she wasn’t a Bella.” The words had echoed through her mind like a gun shot in a canyon.

“Chloe don’t—” Aubrey started.

“It’s okay Aubrey,” Beca said. The hurt was evident in her eyes and she could feel the tears welling. “I mean, it’s not like you ever wanted me here anyway.”

Beca left before she could hear any of the words that followed. She knew it was a bad idea to join the Bellas. She knew it was a bad idea to even become friends with any of them, so why had she even bothered. It was obvious enough by how Aubrey kept her as a dirty little secret that she’d only wanted her there for her voice.

Beca knew she was being a little dramatic, and didn’t completely believe everything she was thinking, but that little voice of self-doubt was yelling at her for being stupid enough to get her into this situation in the first place. Not even Jesse was able to cheer her up any. Normally the overexuberant Treble was just ridiculous enough to crack a smile from Beca, but now Beca had completely blocked herself off from everyone. She ignored every text Aubrey sent her and any text form any of the Bellas. It killed her a little to do it, but she thought it might hurt more to talk to them.

The Bellas didn’t fair much better. Aubrey had shut herself away in her room after losing Beca, and Chloe couldn’t figure out what had happened. It took two days for Aubrey to finally open up to Chloe that she and Beca had been dating since basically hood night and now she’d lost her because she couldn’t bring herself to tell Chloe about them.

While Chloe couldn’t understand the appeal of dating Beca, she felt sort of terrible for the role she’d played in their breakup. Aubrey admitted they never really put a title on their relationship so it wasn’t really a breakup, but none of Aubrey’s breakups had ever hurt as much as Beca and her’s. Chloe loved Aubrey so that Aubrey was so miserable made her feel incredibly guilty.

It surprised the hell out of Beca when Chloe showed up at her dorm several days after semis. There had been a knock at the door, and Beca had gotten up and answered only to be pushed out of the way as Chloe marched into her room.

“Look,” Chloe said. “We don’t have to like each other. We don’t even need to get along, but you can’t block Aubrey out because you hate me.”

Beca blinked. She didn’t think Aubrey would ever tell Chloe about them, but she swallowed down the surprise and processed every thing Chloe had said.

“I don’t hate you?” Beca said and watched the surprise flicker across Chloe’s face. “Not completely anyway.”

“Does it matter?” Chloe asked raising an eyebrow. “Aubrey loves you and she’s locked herself in her bedroom crying because you won’t listen to her apology.”

“Aubrey loves me?” Beca asked, eyes wide.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chloe responded. Beca shook her head.

“Aubrey wouldn’t even tell her best friend about us,” Beca said, and Chloe nodded.

“Well we didn’t exactly make that easy on her did we?” Chloe laughed.

“I guess not,” Beca said. “Look I’ll talk to her. But I’m going to do it when I’m ready.”

Chloe nodded and turned around to leave the dorm but paused for a second. “Beca?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t hate you either,” Chloe said then turned and left the room.

Beca still hadn’t talked to Aubrey when she got the text from Chloe that the Bellas were moving on to the finals because another group was disqualified. Beca debated for hours whether she would show up to that rehearsal or not. Chloe’s words still stung as they ricocheted through her mind. Maybe she really wasn’t a Bella. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to see Aubrey.

But she showed up anyway—an hour late. And she arrived to mass chaos. A puddle of vomit sat in the middle of the rehearsal space and she could only guess that Aubrey had gotten too anxious. Chloe and Aubrey were wrestling over the Bella pitch pipe and the remaining girls were watching in shocked awe.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Beca yelled as walked further into the room.

“Beca?” Aubrey reacted immediately. She sat up and released the pitch pipe from her hand which Chloe snatched up.

“Um, hey,” she said quietly.

“What are you doing here?” Aubrey responded.

Beca tapped her foot against the floor and shifted her weight. “Chloe texted me.”

“Chloe?” Aubrey turned shocked to her best friend. As did the rest of the Bellas.

“What?” Chloe said. “We would be a person short with out her… and, while it pains me to say this, she might have some points. We need to change up our style if we’re going to win ICCA’s. And if we’re going to do that, we need Beca.”

Beca nodded once at the redhead understanding that this was Chloe’s olive branch. They might never get along completely, but they could work together for a common goal.

“Alright Beca,” Aubrey said taking a few steps closer to the freshman. “What do we do?”

“Um, maybe not here,” Beca said grimacing as she pointed toward the puddle of vomit that lay on the floor not too far from the group.

They agreed to meet later that evening in the empty pool where they’d had the riff off. It was the first time the group had really listened to each other.

Later, when all the Bellas had arrived, Beca circled them together and made eye contact with them all.

“Alright,” she said. “Aubrey, would you please pick a song?”

“Bruno Mars, Just the Way You Are,” she said. She didn’t even hesitate which surprised Beca some.

“Chloe, mind taking the lead?”

The senior nodded and began the opening lines. Beca joined her several lines later with Just a Dream before passing the solo off to Aubrey. She directed the group through the songs starting different vocal beats and rhythms to fill it out. She knew there was a meaning to the songs she and Aubrey chose, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to think too hard about it. She knew Aubrey was watching her as she sang. And she knew Aubrey wanted her to look at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet the blonde’s eyes. Everything still felt too fresh, and she wasn’t sure where she stood with Aubrey. When they finished the song, they agreed to meet in two days after Beca had time to create a set list and they all went their own ways—except Aubrey and Beca.

They stared at each other for several seconds, neither sure which was meant to break the silence. Aubrey was the first to break.

“I’m sorry,” she said and took several steps towards Beca. “I should have told Chloe, and I should have stood up for you.”

“Aubrey,” Beca said softly. “You don’t need to apologize for that. I should have been more understanding—I just got insecure. I didn’t want to be your secret. I wanted to be your girlfriend…”

“You should have been my girlfriend,” Aubrey said. “I would be proud to call you my girlfriend.”

Beca chuckled softly, but tears were pricking at her eyes. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Hey,” Aubrey said moving over to Beca and pulling her into a hug. “You’re not stupid. We both made mistakes. And we’re both kind of emotionally stunted.”

“Got that right,” Beca mumbled. She pulled away from Aubrey and missed her warmth immediately. “I need to apologize too. This would probably be better directed at Chloe, but I’m sorry for what I did at semis. And I’m sorry I took out my insecurities on you.”

“Becs,” Aubrey said. When Beca looked up at Aubrey, she surged forward and captured Beca’s mouth with her own. Beca’s lips moved against Aubrey’s in a dance she knew better than any other. God, had she missed kissing Aubrey. She knew she missed it, but she didn’t know how much she missed it until Aubrey was kissing her.

Beca threaded her hands into Aubrey’s hair and pulled the blonde closer while Aubrey’s hands landed on Beca’s hips grasping at the material of her shirt. When Aubrey nipped at her bottom lip, Beca gasped and welcomed Aubrey’s tongue eagerly into her mouth. She hadn’t even realized Aubrey had been walking them backward until Beca felt her back hit the far wall of the empty pool and she let out a soft groan. Her stomach was doing back flips over the way Aubrey’s lips moved on hers and the way her body pressed up tightly against her.

Their lips slowed down to lighter kisses and they just enjoyed the feeling of each other. Eventually they needed to break for air as both women were feeling lightheaded. When they pulled back, Aubrey rested her head against Beca’s, neither opened their eyes until Beca whispered something to Aubrey and then Aubrey’s eyes had shot wide open and she squeaked a high pitch “what?”

“I said—” Beca rolled her eyes. “I said I love you.”

Aubrey’s mouth flopped open, but Beca could see the twinkle in her eyes—the happiness in her eyes.

“I don’t need you to say it back,” Beca said quietly. “I just had to get that out of my system. I know you might not feel the s—”

Beca was cut off by lips once again covering hers, but this time softly and chastely. Just a simple touch of lips. It made Beca hum at the sweetness of the gesture.

“Beca,” Aubrey said opening slightly glazed green eyes to meet Beca’s deep navy blues. “I love you too.”

[thecozywhaleshark]

Jack of All Trades (pt. 1)

A/n: A spinoff of King of Hearts, centering around Escort Tae and the lovely barista. Will I survive this series on top of KoH? Who knows. Stay tuned. 

Word Count: 1512

Warnings: Escort Tae. Swearing. Kind of a fuckboy Tae... basically everything is rude and I strongly dislike myself for expanding the KoH universe.

Summary: He’s your most annoying customer... but also the hottest one...

The first day you met Tae just so happened to be on the first day of your shift, and he had been your personal hell ever since.

He was annoying, arrogant, cocky, flirtatious, and not to mention… super fucking hot.

And that was the most annoying part.

On your end, you were just trying to pay your way through college. You had a ton of bills and debt that always seemed to keep piling up, and the only way you could even remotely keep it at bay was for you to work the night shift at Jackie’s, a little bar in the oldest part of town.

You were so grateful to have the job you didn’t ask what kind of customers you would be having, expecting old drunkards and maybe some tired workers wanting relaxation after a hard day.

What you were not expecting, was the constant trickle of hot men and women who flowed in and out all night, the most frequent of which was a fiery redhead called Tae.

He had quickly become the bane of your existence, coming in every night for drinks and staying for at least an hour, calling you his jagiya, getting on your nerves, and flirting with you until he threw down your tip with a cocky wink and swaggered out of the bar to go who knows where.

He came in every night at the same time, left around the same time, and left you thinking about all the shit he said to you until you were red in the face with anger.

Every. Single. Day.

You look up from wiping the counter as the bell dings above the door, 9:00pm on the dot.

The man of the hour had arrived.

You sigh and try to offer him the customer service courtesy smile. “Hello, Tae.”

“Jagiya! How’s my favorite girl?” He gives you a wicked smile and leans across the counter to give you a kiss on the cheek, but you step back, causing him to miss and curse as you roll your eyes and turn towards the liquor bottles behind you.

“What will it be today Tae? Rum and coke?”

He smiles and sits down on a stool, resting his chin in his hand. “You always know exactly what I want.”

“You’re here every day.”

“But you still took the time to memorize my order…”

You turn your head and give him an uninterested look as he continues to smile at you and tap his fingers on the counter.

“You literally have ordered the same thing, every single day, for the past six months. How could I not know it at this point?”

His smile only grows wider and he folds both this hands under his chin. “I think you like me.”

You snort and slide him his drink, picking up your dishcloth again. “I don’t think ‘like’ is the word I would use…”

He pouts and sticks out his tongue at you before picking up his drink. “Meanie.”

You roll your eyes. He had his cute moments, but they usually didn’t last long.

Sure enough, as soon as he’s tasted his drink he’s dropped his cute stance and is looking at you again. “So how would you describe me then?”

You set down the glass you pulled out and point a finger at him. “Cockily Arrogant Sexy Bastard Fuckboy.”

He blinks in surprise before whistling low and picking up his drink and smirking at you over the glass. “Aw, you think I’m sexy.”

“I take it back. Now you’re only a Cockily Arrogant Bastard Fuckboy.”

He points back at you. “Yeah, but a Sexy one.”  

You roll your eyes and begin to load some of the dirty dishes into the now empty dishwasher.

“Question for ya,” you ask, arranging the various cups and shot glasses.

“Shoot,” Tae replies, sending you another easy smile.

You close the dishwasher and stand up fully. “What exactly do you do for a living? You’re here every night, dressed like you’re about to either go to court or I don’t know, run a club, but if you ran a club I would then ask why you’re here when you could be getting free drinks there…”

“…I’m an escort.”

You snort and lean back from the counter. “Sure you are.”

He looks offended and gestures to himself. “Do I not look good enough to be an escort?”

You shake your head smirking. “Oh, you definitely look good enough to be an escort…” you catch yourself and stop, blushing furiously.

Shit, you did NOT just say that to his face.

He smirks and swirls his drink. “So you do think I’m good looking…”

You send him a glare. “I never said you weren’t.”

He raises his eyebrows and tips his drink back. “Mhm...”

You slap down your towel again and begin to unload the dishwasher. “Alright then, Mr. Escort, tell me, are you any good?”

You quirk an eyebrow as you begin to re-stack the shot glasses in your cupboard, waiting for his reply.

He smirks and empties his glass again, holding it out. You’re almost done re-mix his drink when he speaks.

“Very good. But it’s not like you could ever afford me.”

Cocky bastard.

“Why in the world would I ever want to spend a night with you?” you spit, spinning around and slamming his refill in front of him just a little too hard.

He raises an eyebrow and leans forward. “So you’re interested.”

“I’m not.” You lean over the counter and meet his gaze. “N. O. T. Not.”

He searches your eyes for a minute before leaning back and taking another sip of his drink and lowering his voice. “I bet I could fuck you so good you would be ruined for any other man.”

You roll your eyes. That arrogance.“I’d have to find a few men who would be willing to ruin me first.”

He looks up at you, almost… shocked. “Wait, are you a virgin?”

You shoot him a glare. “What’s it to you?”

He shrugs and downs the last of his drink holding out his glass for another refill. “No need to get defensive, jagi, I’m just curious.”

You snatch it from his hand and begin to pour the rum.

“So what if I am?!” you snap, adding the cola and mixing it with a spoon.

You slide the drink back to him and he looks into it. “Can I get a few more ice cubes?”

You huff but drag his drink back to you, popping the icebox and plunking in a few more. “There.”

He takes it back in silence and sips it, almost lost in thought until you can’t take it anymore.

“Say something.” You find yourself asking, tense about what he’s thinking.

“Something.” He says back casually, sucking an ice cube into his mouth.

“Oh, nevermind.” You huff and head to the other side of the bar to check on your other customers.

Why do you care what he thinks? It’s totally okay to be a virgin at any age…

What if he offers to take your virginity?

Shut up he wouldn’t offer that.

But what if he did?

Imagine that fire red hair between your fingers… between your legs…

You shudder and clamp down on your thoughts as you pick up the dishcloth and wipe the counter, working your way back to where Tae sits.

“Have you at least been kissed?” Tae blurts, and you look up to see him staring at you intensely.

You blush hard and slowly shake your head before looking back down, suddenly very interested in the nicks on the table before you. You hear him take a sharp intake of breath and you look up to see him biting his lip.

“Don’t act so surprised!” You snap, raising your wet dishcloth, ready to slap him. Instead of replying, he leans over the counter and stops your raised hand with his, tugging your wrist down. He gently tilts your chin with the fingers of his other hand and pulls you closer to him before softly pressing his mouth to yours.

His mouth is warm and it feels different, but not in a bad way. It’s so soft, but also firm - almost demanding. Before you have the chance to react and decide whether you want to kiss him back, he’s pulling away and you immediately miss his warmth.

You stare at him wide-eyed and mouth a little open in shock as he leans back and slips off his stool before downing the rest of his drink.

“That one was free,” he murmurs low and winks, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and sliding bills across the counter to you. “See you tomorrow… jagi.”

He abruptly turns on his heel and walks out of the bar, leaving you flushed and wanting behind him.

“Ass,” you hiss as the door swings shut behind him, hating that he just left like that… and hating that your fingers can’t seem to stop drifting to your mouth, over and over again, for the rest of your shift.

Part 2

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {5/?}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused. 

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

 He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Thank you all for reading, for liking, for commenting, for rebloging, and for genuinely being all around awesome!!! And thank you to @captainsjedi for her support and her artwork! We’ve got a new set today, so show her some love💙

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 

Tag list: @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @lifeinahole27 @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @galaxyzxstark @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @cssns

-/-

He bloody hates his brother.

No, that’s not right. He loves his brother, but he hates him right now.

He also strongly dislikes Elsa, Will, and Belle, but not as much as he hates his brother because he’s in this entire situation because of him and his big mouth inviting Emma Swan out onto one of the boats they currently have docked at their offices. Why in the world did Liam think that this was a good idea? He knows that they do this all of the time with their friends and Luis and Luca. It’s likely not the most ethical thing in the world, but they pass it off as a bit of a test drive to make sure that everything is working. He enjoys it, as does everyone else, but he still doesn’t understand why Liam decided to invite Emma when they ran into each other at the beach last week while jogging.

It was obviously a lack of blood flow to the brain or something like that.

When in the world did everyone he knows become part of the Emma Swan fan club? Suddenly all of his friends and family are also her friends, and he’s got no clue how they never crossed paths before.

Fate or something like that.

Mostly, though, once he gets past the fact that his brother asked Emma to spend an entire Saturday with them, he wonders why in the world Emma said yes.

Maybe she also had a lack of blood flow to her brain as she ran, and that’s why she agreed.

She’s trying to torture him, obviously. It’s what she’d done that morning as he tried to keep it together knowing that he and Liam still had at least two miles to run before they’d go their separate ways to their own homes. Emma had kept talking (making him have all kinds of issues that weren’t helped by her only being clad in a sports bra and leggings that might as well have been a second skin with sweat clinging to her stomach and the tops of her breasts), incessantly really, and despite their few meetings, he does know that she isn’t too much of a talker, preferring to let others fill in the gaps. And yet there she was not shutting her mouth while her eyes kept glancing at him, the right side of her lips curving into a smile.

Smirking.

Emma Swan was teasing him, torturing him really, and she knew it. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, and it really seemed like she was enjoying it.

Minx.

It was frustrating, emotionally and sexually, and made the rest of the run painful (he thinks he might have broken his personal best in time however), but a part of him realized that maybe it meant that Emma was kind of coming around to the idea of not wanting to totally avoid him. Maybe they’d somehow make some kind of attempt to be friends. He wants that so damn badly that it surprises him.

His cheeky attempt at talking to her through the bread basket might just have worked.

Or pissed her off. He’s honestly not sure. She gives him all kinds of mixed signals that he’s not even really sure are signals.

Maybe she doesn’t want to be friends. Maybe she’s simply sadistic and is playing a game with him. But like he said, two can play at this little game between them.

The problem is that Emma seems to be winning.

Emma is definitely winning, and he’s losing.

Damn it.

He’s sitting at the small marina outside of their offices with a cooler of drinks perched between his converse clad feet, and he’s waiting for everyone to show up while watching some of the white sails flutter in the wind as most people haven’t woken up to take their boats out yet. It’s beautiful out here with the ocean just feet away, the salt of the water mixing in with the air and making everything smell like the beach, which may very well be his favorite thing in the world. If he looks to his right, he can see a few colorful umbrellas perched along the sand with chairs and towels underneath them. The families who rent out the row of multi-colored pastel houses along the shoreline usually leave most of their umbrellas and chairs outside so as not to have to carry them back and forth every day, and he makes a note to himself to talk to Robin to see if the Parks department can hire a few teenagers in the summer to help with beach activities for tourists and making sure that the beach stays clean. He knows that most every teenager in town works at the shops that are already only open for the summer, so it should fit right in with that.

He and Liam also need to talk about setting out time for more sailing lessons and to make sure that’s advertised on their website.

Liam said they’d meet here at eleven, not too early and not too late, but since he lives the closest, in an apartment just half a mile away from the office, he’s here early. He always seems to be early wherever he goes. Even when he makes an attempt at showing up on time or even a little after the time, he is early. It’s ridiculous, but it’s obviously some other kind of curse that he’s going to be stuck with for the rest of his life.

At least it’s not something horrible. Being early isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Until he’s been sitting on this bench mulling over his thoughts for twenty minutes waiting for anybody to show up. Seriously anybody. The only people he’s seen are families he knows are in town for the week vacationing as they settle down under their left out umbrellas, and he’s not exactly keen on talking to them because he knows he’ll somehow get roped into giving them a local’s guide of Storybrooke.

He’s fallen into that trap one too many times.

He simply can’t help that he’s so charming.

Man, he really does sound like an asshole when he thinks things like that.

Sighing, he leans forward and props his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands across the back of his neck, trying to work out some of the tension that’s been gathering there all week. The boat they’re taking out today has been a pain in his ass to design and meet the owner’s satisfaction as they’re constantly adding in new little details that they want, and he barely slept this week trying to get as much done as possible before they take it out for this little joyride.

Deadlines and priorities and all that.

Closing his eyes, he tries to calm himself down and say that everything about today is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be relaxing. That’s the entire point of this. That’s what everyone else is here for. None of them know why this is torturous for him, though. It’s not just the fact that he’ll be sporting an erection today. It’s really not. This is…the whole thing is a torment on his emotions as he grapples with everything, and it’s not as if Emma is helping him out with how she’s going about everything. She doesn’t owe him anything, but damn, it’d be nice to be able to talk this out with someone.

Not that he can really even talk it out with her without wanting to take her against the nearest flat surface. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a flat surface.

He’d tell Liam, let them have a nice chat over some glasses of rum simply so he can talk about how he’s feeling with this whole thing, but he promised Emma in the hallway of Ariel’s house that he wouldn’t say anything. He’s a man of his word and believes in good form, and he can’t break that promise. If he were to tell Liam, Liam would tell Elsa. Then Elsa would tell Ariel who would obviously tell Mary Margaret or Ruby and then it’ll all get back to Emma and she’d murder him and hide his body.

(Why does he keep thinking that she’s going to do that?)

They’d be playing some ridiculous adult version of phone tag like they played when he was a child, but instead of it ending in a word so far off from the original, all he’d get was a well deserved punch in the face for sharing something he said he wasn’t going to share and that is obviously deeply personal to the both of them.

This woman is maddening.

The bottom stair to step onto the dock creaks, and he twists his head to the side to see the maddening woman herself walking toward him with a small tote bag on her arm. Honestly, though, it’s the last thing he’s looking at because Emma’s simply wearing a pair of light washed jean shorts that do nothing to cover any part of her tanned, toned legs and a loose tank top that’s fallen down to show off the thin strap of her black bikini top covering her breasts.

Fuck.

He’s a strong man, but he can only take so much. This – this is too much, and it’s only going to get worse as she strips out of her clothes to tan or spends time in the water and talks to all of their friends.

He’s so screwed in every way but one.

Emma is most definitely still winning whatever game it is that they’re playing, and he hasn’t even gotten an opportunity to throw his hand in.

Two can play at this game, he reminds himself. That’s what he told her, and if she decides to mess with him today, he can do the same.

What the hell is he going to do?

Maybe he should simply fake an illness and go home, though that’ll be a little bit more difficult with Emma already being here.

He braces himself for her voice, but as she makes her way toward him, she’s surprisingly quiet, not saying a word as she settles down onto the bench next to him, her thigh far enough away from his that they could easily fit a small child between them. They sit like that for at least a minute and a half, total silence between them and only the distant sound of others talking around them, before his phone buzzes in his swimsuit pocket.

Emma: Hi.

Killian: Hey, Swan.

Emma: Where is everyone else? I thought we had a boat to steal.

Killian: We’re not stealing it. It’s a test drive.

Emma: Sounds pretty suspicious to me.

Killian: Are you going to try to arrest us or something?

Emma: Nah, I don’t like to waste my handcuffs.

Emma: Or do the paperwork.

He chuckles a bit and glances to the side to see if she’s got the same amused look on her face. It’s not quite as obvious, but he can see the beginnings of a smile peeking through. He doesn’t understand her in the slightest. Truly, he doesn’t. She can be kind and funny only to be annoyed and harsh one second later, but he honestly thinks that might only be with him. All of his friends and family absolutely love her, so she’s obviously a good, sweet person. Maybe it’s him that rubs her the wrong way. Or maybe he’s right in his assumption that she simply doesn’t know how to handle what’s going on and is warring between feelings and emotions. He’s got no clue what’s happened in her past, but from the little glimpse that he got at dinner, he knows that she’s been hurt before and likely pretty badly.

So he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know. Obviously, the universe thinks that they’re well matched up for some reason, and he kind of thinks the same. He’d like to get to know her, and he thinks she’d like to get to know him. She might simply be scared.

Plus the whole barely being able to talk to each other and all. That’s a bit of an obstacle since neither of them are willing to fall into the physical side of things. Well, he’s willing, but that’s an entirely different story.

Killian: So you carry those handcuffs around often, do you?

She quietly scoffs at that, though he hears it as if she made the noise in his ear, and he looks out of the corner of his eye to see if she’s typing on her phone or not.

Emma: It’s part of my job. Don’t be weird.

Killian: Who said anything about being weird? I’m simply enquiring more about your work. I’d love to know about the great men and women who serve our wonderful town.

Emma: You’re ridiculous.

Killian: I get that a lot.

Killian: Do you guys also drink coffee and eat donuts every day?

Emma: Coffee, yes. Donuts, no.

Emma: Damn, I wish there was a good stereotype about boat architects or designers. You picked a very niche field to go into. It’s hard to make fun of.

Killian: I get a lot of Popeye jokes if that helps.

Emma: I don’t think you’re buff enough to be Popeye.

It’s his turn to scoff at that, and when he glances at Emma, he sees a full smile on her face, her eyes crinkling the slightest bit as she laughs.

Killian: Just wait until I eat some spinach, love.

“Wow, look at that lively conversation happening here,” Liam laughs as he steps in front of them, Killian not even noticing that he and Elsa and showed up on the docks with how wrapped up he was in the texts and enjoying a friendly moment with Emma. “It makes me think today is going to be fun.”

“Babe,” Elsa scolds, gently placing her hand on Liam’s arm and squeezing the blue material of his t-shirt, “be nice. You know that Emma can kick your ass if you piss her off too much.”

Emma kicking people’s asses seems to be a trend, and it’s kind of (incredibly) hot.

Liam huffs, placing his hands over his chest. “Well, I would never try to piss off Emma. I like her too much.”

“Oi,” he says without much thought, “what about me?”

“You’re my little brother. I enjoy annoying you.”

“Younger,” he grumbles. “I’m younger.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Where are Belle and Will?” Elsa questions, reaching down into her bag and pulling out a bottle of sunscreen before she begins slathering it across her pale skin. “They didn’t come with you, Emma?”

“They stayed at Will’s last night,” she answers, and he takes a deep breath to try to control himself, “but I just texted Belle. They’re on their way if we want to go ahead and start getting everything ready.”

Emma stands from the bench and pulls up her shorts, his eye line directly at the curve of her ass. He quickly stands as well even if he’d really rather sit for awhile, but it’ll help to get to move away from her for some time. It’ll help if Will and Belle get here and there are more people to talk to and more voices to try to hone in on.

Who is he kidding? No matter how he tries to focus on other sounds, Emma’s voice is always the loudest.

But he can at least try.

He grabs his cooler from the ground, placing the strap on his shoulder and heading down the docks until he gets to the boat they’re taking out today that’s nestled at the end of the dock.

The Magdalena.

It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful vessel. He simply happens to know that Magdalena is the name of the owner’s mistress and not his wife, but that’s none of his business. It’s not his job to uphold some kind of moral righteousness, and considering the wife was in the room when the name was suggested, he figures that it really and truly is not his concern. He’d be overstepping to say anything. Really, he shouldn’t know any of this at all, but within small towns like Storybrooke, gossip travels quickly.

“She’s a beauty, this one,” Liam sighs as he steps up the stairs to where the wheel is, turning the key and letting everything warm up. “How much longer until it’s off of our hands?”

“Wednesday.”

“Do we get paid then too?”

“We get another installment, yeah. They’ve got a monthly payment plan set up.”

“Ah, okay,” Liam hums next to him, running his hands over the dashboard before pressing up on his toes and looking down below to the bow where Emma and Elsa are sitting on the white cushions with their feet propped up on the small table that’s been installed. He can hear Emma talk, hear her laugh, but it’s more muted with the sound of the motor and seagulls and his brother’s voice so it’s not affecting him as much. “So Emma is nice.”

“Aye,” he agrees, rolling his eyes a bit under his sunglasses because he knows where this is going, “she is.”

“I think you two would get along.”

“You and every other bloody person in this town.”

“What?”

He waves Liam away, reaching into the cooler and pulling out a bottle of water. He wants a beer, but it’s too early for that. At least he’s not driving today. He doesn’t have to worry about indulging too much. Not that he will. He’s got a pretty good tolerance, but he’s thirty-five and not twenty-two anymore. Hangovers are a killer.

“About two weeks ago Will and Belle invited me over to dinner like Belle is always doing, but Emma was also there and I’m pretty sure it was a set up.”

“Well see? If we all think you two would make a good match, it must be true. I don’t know how you never met before.”

“I don’t either.”

Liam sits down in his chair and crosses his legs over each other as he props them up on the dash. He’s got on these ridiculous patterned swim shorts with crabs and sailboats on them, and Killian really hopes that the twins picked them out for him.

They probably didn’t.

“So,” he nudges, his lips pressing together before parting so that Killian can see all of his teeth, “do you think you’ll ask her out on a date?”

He nearly spits out the water he’s taking a sip of even though he knew that was coming. He is not a gullible man, but damn do people keep catching him off guard.

“No,” he replies flatly even while he coughs a bit, pointedly ignoring the raised brows on Liam’s forehead. “She’s a fine lass, but I don’t think either of us are very interested in dating, especially after being constantly set up by our friends and apparently as of today, my brother too.”

Liam raises both hands in the air. “I’m not setting you up, I promise.”

“Then why’d you invite her?”

“She said she didn’t get to spend enough time at the beach, and I figured Elsa would be itching at the opportunity to hire a sitter for the kids and spend time with a few of her friends.”

He hums, not at all believing his brother, but he’s already in this situation. There’s no stopping it.

“Whatever. Just…let me worry about my own love life, okay? Not everyone has heard their wife’s thoughts in his head since he was a child, and it’s not that simple for me. I can’t simply date anyone. I did that before, and I got my heart broken.”

“I understand. I’m worried about you is all…not everyone finds their soulmate, little brother, and I figured you could use some happiness.”

He rises from his chair and claps Liam on the shoulder, trying to ignore the thump in his heart that may very well be threatening to stop itself right now as he thinks of all the things that he knows that Liam doesn’t. It’s more complicated than he could ever imagine.

“Let me worry about my own happiness. I have enough with all of these people who already do love me enough to torture me like this by continuously setting me up. And again, it’s younger. You and I both know no part of me is smaller than you.”

“Oi,” comes a shout from below, and he twists his head around to see Will helping Belle onto the boat, “were you wankers about to leave without us?”

“If you were another two minutes late, we would have,” he yells back down, winking at Belle who’s already got blush on her cheeks. “Did you have a late morning trying to fix your hair, Scarlett?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. I had to make it look all pretty for you.”

“Aww shucks,” he teases in his best attempt at a dainty American accent, “I can’t believe you’d do that for little old me.”

“I’ve got to look my best for my honey bunches.”

“You two are the weirdest friends, I swear,” Belle mumbles as she tosses her bag through the enclosed space and walks around to where Elsa and Emma are still sitting, the two of them getting up when they see her to wrap her in separate embraces.

“So are we going or what?” Will groans, his tact always evident. “I’ve got to be at the Rabbit Hole at eight.”

“Calm down, Scarlett,” Liam sighs, moving his feet down from the dash, “we’re going.”

For the next two hours he spends most of his time avoiding Emma. It’s a large boat, but it’s not a yacht. There’s only so many places he can hide out from her, especially since he can still faintly hear her voice wherever he goes. But it’s faint, and so is the buzz on his skin that feels more like the sun is beating down on him than anything else. It’s definitely different than it usually is, the intensity of hearing her talk not quite as strong, but he imagines it’ll be different when he’s actively in the same place listening to her voice. And there’s only so much longer that he can hide down below reapplying sunscreen or claiming to be getting lunch ready in the kitchen when they’re having sandwiches and chips. At some point he’d like to bask in the sun a little and take a dip in the ocean.

With a deep breath, he unbuttons his button down and leaves it on the couch, running his hand over the scars on his left hand. He really hopes that they’re not sensitive to the sun today. He’s got enough issues going on for that to also be one.

This is all fine. It’s going to be fine. Just because he’s tortured by Emma’s mere presence doesn’t mean he can’t have a nice day.

When he emerges from down below, sliding the frosted glass doors open, he nearly turns back around at the sight in front of him.

Bloody hell.

Emma’s stripped out of her clothes and is simply wearing the black bikini he got a glimpse of earlier, but it’s so much worse (better) without her shorts and tank top covering her skin. God, she’s stunning. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone as beautiful as her, and as she stretches her arms above her head to pull her hair into a bun, he can see the muscles in her arms and the toned lines of her stomach while desire stirs inside of him that has nothing to do with her voice. It surely doesn’t help that a good portion of her breasts are exposed as she moves.

He likes to think he’s stronger than this, but in the end, he isn’t.  

Idly he wonders if they’re too far away from the shore for him to swim back to get away from this torture. He needs a good work out regardless.

When Emma’s finished tying her hair into the messy bun, blonde tendrils still falling down framing her face, she turns to face him where he’s still standing by the doorway like a slack jawed idiot.

“Hi,” she greets, waving her hand a little bit, her mouth opening again before her lips press together as she must suddenly remember their little predicament.

Killian nods in response, still thinking about swimming away.

Emma raises her hand, fingers motioning in a circular motion like she’s trying to mime something before giving up and slapping her hand against her leg. “Where’s the cooler?”

“Up the stairs, love,” he smiles, ignoring the hum at the base of his spine. “Do you need something?”

“Water. I already feel parched, which is probably not a good sign for the rest of the day. So, um, thanks.”

“Tis not a problem.”

He leaves Emma to go up the ladder to get the cooler. They should probably bring it down here where everyone is sitting, but he’ll get around to that later when they all manage to actually eat lunch. Moving around the side of the boat, he makes his way to the bow and takes a seat on the open bench as everyone else is already seated talking about some of the summer programs that Belle has set up for the kids at the library every day.

“I’m trying to get funding for field trips to different parts of town for the daycare kids, but you know how difficult it is to get anything through town hall.”

“It’s awful,” Elsa sighs. “I was trying to get access to a deed the other day for this case I’m working on, and it took them two hours to not be able to find it in the archives only for me to find it in ten minutes. But that would be a great idea. I’m sure the twins would love that. You know the other day they told me they were old enough not to need a babysitter anymore?”

“Really?” Belle laughs.

“Oh yeah, Luca came downstairs one morning already dressed with her hair braided and very proudly told me that she could take care of herself.”

“That’s because she takes after you, lass,” he smiles, stretching his arm out on the back of the bench. “If she took after Liam she wouldn’t be nearly as independent.”

“Says the man who couldn’t tie his shoes until he was seven.”

“Why wear shoes when you can walk around without them?”

“Because you lived in a civilized place.”

“I totally agree with Killian,” Emma says as she comes around the corner, still looking as beautifully torturous as she did minutes ago, especially as she keeps talking. “Shoes are overrated.”

“You have on sandals right now,” Will points out.

“My feet would burn off on this boat if I didn’t.” Emma takes a few more steps before she’s sitting down next to him. It’s a small enough space down here, the better seating area really at the stern, that their thighs do press together, smooth skin mixing in with the dark hair on his legs. “So they do have their purposes, but it’s more comfortable without them. I mean, do you wear them at home?”

“Sometimes.”

“But not all the time.”

“God, I take my heels off as soon as I walk in the door,” Elsa groans, flexing her feet as she talks.

“That’s because they’re torture devices,” Belle and Emma nearly say at the same time.

“Bloody wonderful torture devices if you ask me.”

“No one did,” Emma scowls, even if he can see her lip threatening to turn into a smile. This is not as bad as he thought it was going to be, even if he does think that he’s going to have to get into the water soon to hide his problem that is slowly arising. “So are we going to get in the water or what?”

He gently slaps the edge of her shoulder. “Taking the words right out of my mouth there, Swan.”

She leans in close to his ear, and he can feel her breath on her skin, a contrast of cool versus the warm ocean breeze. “Good. Then maybe you’ll stop talking because I think I’m about to go insane.”

“Like I said, love, two can play at this game.”

And even though he warred with whether or not he wanted to tease her, the pros and cons seemingly balancing out on if it’s worth or not, for the rest of the afternoon, the two of them set out to mess with each other as much as they possibly can. Emma never stops talking. Like, ever. She seems to talk about anything and everything as they settle into the water, floating around in the clear blue ocean with the occasional fish swimming between his legs. At one point she’s spent a solid thirty minutes talking about the fact that Outlander is now on Netflix and then describing the entire first season to Elsa and Belle and talking about having a girls’ night to watch it, and he thinks he’s about to dissolve into the ocean for how turned on he is.

The universe’s sense of humor is cruel.

So he does the only thing he can think of doing to make her stop talking. Like the grown man in his mid-thirties that he is, he splashes her with salt water, making sure that it’s enough to cover her face.

“What. The. Hell.” Emma mumbles, spitting the water out of her mouth as she gapes at him, green eyes widened and in full view without her sunglasses. “Why did you just do that?”

“I didn’t do anything. Sometimes the water has a mind of its own, you know? We are invading its space.”

Emma doesn’t say anything back, and he wonders if he’s rendered her speechless. That would be some kind of miracle, and he hopes that it’s true, that his childish plan worked.

But it very obviously didn’t as Emma slowly but surely wades over to him as their friends keep talking, obviously all choosing to ignore what happened until Emma splashes him, getting the water directly in his eyes so that it burns for him to keep them open.

“Bloody hell, woman.”

“What’s fair is fair,” she teases, and he can practically imagine the look on her face, the smirk on her pink lips, while he struggles to control himself and to be able to even see which only becomes more difficult when he feels a weight on his back, arms around his neck and smooth legs around his waist while breasts press into his shoulder blades as Emma attempts to pull him down into the ocean with her weight. “Personally, I think you should have seen this coming.”

He grunts in response, opening his eyes even if things are still a little blurry, and because he knows that Emma is trying to push him under the water and hasn’t quite succeeded yet, he grabs onto her calves and pulls them both down, submerging them into the cool water as Emma wiggles against him, slapping and kicking at his chest until he pushes them back up to the surface, gasping for air and shaking his hair out.

“You asshole,” she groans, falling off of him but still kicking her legs toward him to splash him with water.

“I did tell you I’d answer to that,” he teases as he chases after her as she swims away, finally catching up to her and grabbing onto her ankles to pull her back to him, their chests nearly touching while they both catch their breath, shoulders heaving and faces flushed red. Her hair has completely fallen out of her bun, the blonde curls dark and wild with the ocean water settling in them, and as he stares at the water that’s falling down her face, landing on her eyelashes and dropping to her cheeks and her lips, all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss her.

Her lips would probably be salty and a little dry from the day out in the sun, but her skin would be warm and soft. He knows that it is. He’s just touched it in all of their teasing and rough housing in the water like they’re kids. It was fun, enjoyable, and he doesn’t care that he’s going to get teased about it later by Liam and Will. He really doesn’t because all he can think about is what it would be like to move two inches and glide his lips over Emma’s as he succumbs to his desires.

It’s that thought that stops him even as he reaches forward and brushes some of her hair behind her ear so that it’s not falling in her eyes. Emma has been talking for so long, her voice louder than anything out here, and he’s been so turned on that he hasn’t known what to do. Whatever this is between them is most likely a product of that, of this idiotic connection they have with each other’s voices, even if it seems to not be working in the same way that it did on the day that they first met. It’s not as intense as it was then, even though it is still most definitely a problem, and all of the questions that he has continue to whirl around in his head to form even more.

And now he wonders if he actually wants to kiss her, if he actually does have these budding feelings for her, or if it’s all a product of the universe and all of their friends pushing them together.

He thinks that he truly does like her, that he might be ready to move on from his heartbreak, but whatever they become is up to her as much as it is to him.

So he won’t kiss her. Not today. Not when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“You two are going to turn into prunes if you stay in the water much longer,” Belle supplies from the boat, a soft smile on her face. “And I think we’re about to eat.”

“We’ll be right there,” Emma yells back, her eyes never leaving him as they continue to search his face. “We should get back on the boat.”

“Aye, it’s just – ”

“You’ve got a little problem below deck,” she teases, some of the seriousness falling away from her gaze as she smiles.

“I’ll have you know that it’s quite a sizeable problem.”

“Whatever you say, Jones.”

The two of them do eventually get back on the boat and after he’s calmed himself down below deck (figuratively and literally) and changed into a set of dry shorts and pulled his button down back on, not bothering to close it as he settles down back at his spot on the bench next to Emma like he did earlier with everyone else already sitting down and eating. The rest of the afternoon is much calmer as his brother and his friends lead most of the conversation, he and Emma staying quiet. He’s not sure if maybe she’s being kind by not talking or if maybe she doesn’t want him to either so she’s not affected, but he thinks that it works for them as they only join in when necessary.

And at the end of the day when Liam is driving them back to shore, he feels soft hair on his neck and even softer skin pressing against his shoulder, so he twists his head to the side to see that Emma’s fallen asleep, little puffs of air passing through her lips as she’s curled up on the seat.

He smiles a bit to himself and adjusts his arm underneath her.

Maybe today was better than he thought it would be.

No, definitely.

[radioromantic-moved]

mordecai vs. the universe

word count: 2200

a soulmate au that got way too out of hand. i mostly wrote it when i was supposed to be sleeping or working. please enjoy it. cara is my 1920s-sona

entropy, noun- lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder.

Soulmates are a complicated business. They’re notorious that way. People joke that everyone who ever wanted to study the process of soulmates gave up after a few weeks on the job. The only real concrete thing that’s accepted as positive fact is the simple the first words they say to you appear on your body in their handwriting a few years after puberty; some get them, some don’t. No dates or timestamps, no scientific explanation, no clear-cut pattern. Soulmates are tricky, multifaceted, and chaotic.

Their lack of organization is one of the reasons why Mоrdecai HelIer hates them.

Although it’s certainly not the only one.

He’s been surrounded by marked people his whole life, almost as if they gravitate towards him. His mother and father were soulmates; his mother doesn’t speak about it often, but on the occasion that his father, now deceased, happens to enter the conversation, he’ll catch her adjusting her shirtsleeves to cover up something, fading, written in a neat, flowing font. His youngest sister got her mark remarkably early--a few months before he left home, she was speculating aloud who the mystery phrase scrawled across her neck would be spoken by, in the dreamy tone of someone who can still afford daydreams. 

He can’t escape soulmates at his place of employment, either. Atlas and Mitzi not only flaunt their matching marks, they’ve been known to use them to entertain--Mоrdecai’s witnessed them reenact their first meeting in a floral, overdramatized skit of sorts, culminating in the removal of Atlas’ jacket so the crowd can see the words written on his collarbone and Mitzi dramatically sweeping back her hair to reveal what’s been penned on her cheek and jawline. 

The words aren’t particularly impressive, either; he paid her a casual compliment on her musical skill after a performance. 

Then there’s Viktor, who never reveals anything about his soulmate, but Ivy swears on her life she’s seen ink on his back before when she catches him off guard. Mоrdecai suspects that she just has soulmates on the brain, though; she’s at the age that most marks appear, and she’s constantly fidgeting with her clothes to check if anything’s appeared while she wasn’t paying attention. 

Mоrdecai finds the whole business to be wholly a waste of time. He has more important things to worry about than romantic entanglements, and he certainly does not need a mysterious, undefinable, uncategorizable force attempting to force him into one. Leave the prettiness and fairytales to AtIas and his wife. When it comes to socialization, particularly done with romantic intent, he could arrange an alphabetized, structured list on all of the things that he would rather do.

Which is why he could not be more annoyed when he sees the sentences crawling down his arm one otherwise unremarkable day.

His mark somewhat matches his mother’s--perhaps they do follow genetic lines in some way, he notes, even as his brain is insisting there are more important things to worry about right now--but his seems to take up more space than his father’s organized writing did. One could hardly call his soulmate’s handwriting neat--it’s a messy scrawl, as if they were writing in a hurry. Well, I’ve been worse off, though I guess not by much, claims this permanent, unwanted tattoo of his, and he’s inclined to agree with it.

He let himself get too secure; he was so sure that he was out of the age range of expected mark appearance, but if his studies of statistics have taught him anything, it’s that there are always outliers in any data pool.

There’s also Murphy’s Law to contend with.

But he will make a plan and follow it to the letter, the way it always does. He refuses to let this distract him. He has a job to do, and this mark will not change that. 

If anyone at the Laсkadaisy notices that he’s particularly taken with long sleeves all of a sudden, they don’t say anything about it. Sometimes he thinks he sees Mitzi giving his arm a sideways glance, but a well-placed stony glare often gets her to back off. 

All is well, for a while. 

Until a soaking wet stranger stumbles into the Little Daisy Cafe on yet another day that would normally be considered entirely ordinary.

Atlas, Viktor and Mоrdecai are seated in a booth near the entrance when the door blows open and someone hurries inside, shutting the door behind them and sealing off the fierce rainstorm raging outside. The stranger takes a seat at a barstool and pulls off their jacket, gathering it into a pile in their arms. They must look sufficiently like a drowned rat, because as soon as Mitzi emerges from behind the counter, she hurries over to the shivering would-be customer. “Oh, my--don’t tell me you just came from out there! Are you alright? You look halfway to the grave.”

The stranger attempts a half-shrug. “Well, I’ve been worse off,” they say affably, “though not by much,” they concede with chattering teeth. 

Mоrdecai’s arm burns fiercely. He rubs it, trying to look casual.

“I’ll get you a towel,” says Mitzi, heading to the back room. She turns around and adds, “Although I hope you’ll clean up that mess you’re dripping all over our floors. We just cleaned in here, you know.”

Atlas heads over to the new arrival, who is murmuring to themselves under their breath. Mоrdecai follows, although he has a terrible feeling that he will strongly dislike the outcome of this conversation. 

“What brings you out in this weather?” Atlas asks mildly.

The stranger takes a towel offered to them by Mitzi and sighs. “Job-hunting gone wrong, I guess,” they say in a dry alto. “One rejection too many, suppose I wasn’t paying attention to much anymore. I got lost, and when it started raining I just ended up more turned around.”

They’re dressed for a job interview; they’re wearing an expensive-looking red suit that would probably come off as more impressive if it wasn’t rumpled and soaking wet. They’re holding a stack of papers that seem to have taken less rain damage than the rest of them; Mоrdecai would guess they were shielding the papers with their body. 

Atlas tilts his head and stares at the would-be interviewee with a look that Mоrdecai recognizes as an appraising one. “You seem decent,” he says slowly. “What, if you had to guess, was the common factor in your rejections from your prospective jobs?”

It’s a loaded question, but Mоrdecai has a feeling he knows what Atlas is looking for. 

The stranger pauses a second. “If I’m being entirely honest, sir, I believe I lack the charm needed to succeed in a career when one’s of my particular persuasion.”

There’s something in her eyes. Mоrdecai has never claimed to be good at reading people, but he has a feeling that there’s something more to her job quest than she’s letting on.

“You know,” says Atlas, “we could use someone else to wait tables around here--we’re rather shorthanded as of late.”

This is a lie.

“If you’re inclined, I’d be perfectly willing to take you on--on a trial basis, of course,” Mоrdecai’s employer says, extending a hand to shake. “What’s your name?”

The stranger at the bar counter only hesitates for a second before shaking his hand firmly. “Cara. Cara Bergman. Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

Mоrdecai makes his exit not long afterwards. No one cares much; they’re used to him disappearing when he pleases.

He has built his career on being unnoticed, and it pays off. No one notices when he starts avoiding speaking out loud in front of the new hire; if he must say anything at all, he says it in low tones to Atlas or Viktor. No one notices that every time Cara happens to get too close to him, he holds his arm as if it’s been burned.

He has successfully adjusted his plan to include every confounding variable, every scheme and trick and twist of fate that the universe, in its cosmic complication, has tried to throw at him.

Or so he thinks. 

Because as it turns out, Cara Bergman is remarkably difficult to predict.

A crisp knock sounds on his office door, and he heads to open it, almost spouting a reflex greeting--but when he sees who happens to be standing outside, he’s glad he didn’t.

“Hello,” Cara says calmly. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

She takes a seat facing his desk, and maybe he’s just caught extremely off guard by her sudden insertion into his personal time, but he finds himself sitting back down to face her. He doesn’t say a word, and they eye each other for a few moments.    

Cara breaks the silence eventually. “Look, I know you can talk. You and Mr. May are always off gabbing away in your little booth in the cafe. And from the way you always snap to attention when he says anything, I’m assuming your hearing faculties are in order, too.”

He doesn’t say a word, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Cara continues. “I’d write it off as you just being antisocial, but when I bumped into you the other day, the way you flinched--I thought I’d stabbed you or something.”

So maybe he wasn’t quite as subtle as he thought.

Cara folds her hands in front of her. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I’m sure you’re awfully busy with bookkeeping or whatever it is you do. I just want to hear one sentence from you. Any sentence will be fine.”

Mоrdecai considers his options and finds himself woefully lacking. He scratches his arm, which is stinging dully. He meets Cara’s eyes, and he can tell that she’s got a fair idea of what’s going on already. 

He sighs, and throws caution to the wind.

“Alright. I suppose it’s best we finish this sooner rather than later.”

Cara grins toothily. “That’s what I was looking for. And may I just say, that’s really the best thing to have tattooed on you for eight years or thereabouts. Are we factory workers? University students? My guess is as good as anyone else’s.”

Even though he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, it’s a grim confirmation when she shrugs her shirt off one shoulder to reveal his own handwriting penned in inky black. 

Suddenly, one of the things she’s said hits him. “Eight years? I’ve only had a...mark--” he hears the contempt in his voice as the word comes out--“for a few months, five at the most.”

Cara snorts. “What, did you expect something involving soulmates to make sense?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. 

He straightens his cufflinks, unsure of where to continue from here. Luckily, Cara saves him. “I know you’re not excited about this or anything.”

“What gave it away?” he deadpans.

“Look,” she states, side-eyeing him, “I know there’s a lot of pressure on people to settle down once they find their soulmates, or at least make a big to-do about the whole thing. But no one’s making us turn this into a production. Just because we’ve got each other’s handwriting on us doesn’t mean we have to go all--” here Cara leans forward and bats her eyelashes in such a dead-on impersonation of Mitzi that Mоrdecai nearly chokes in surprise-- “on each other.”

“I--well.” 

Somehow, he has been struck silent yet again. Cara has presented something that he never considered seriously before. “Well, what do you suppose we do about this, then?” he asks.

“You know, there’s this thing called a friendship that I’ve been thinking about trying out,” says Cara. “I understand the concept might be foreign to you as well.”

“I have friends,” Mоrdecai protests. He doesn’t realize how indignant he sounds about it until it’s already out of his mouth.

“Lovely,” Cara says. “Now you have one more. Here--let’s shake on it.”

She offers her hand, and he takes it. A jolt of something runs through him like lightning (static electricity, he tells himself, common at this time of year) and all at once, he realizes that his mark has stopped stinging. 

“Now, as friends,” Cara muses, looking at the stacks of books arranged meticulously on his desk, “we should probably find some common interests. Do you like reading?”

“When it’s for work,” he says, turning his head back down to the figures he was calculating before she walked in.

“Well, that’s awfully boring of you. If we’re going to be friends, I’ve really got to introduce you to some H.G. Wells. Oh, or maybe Poe. You’d like him; you’re both dark and brooding.”

He doesn’t dignify her with a response, and waits until she’s left, carefully shutting the door behind her, to lean back in his chair and consider things. 

He refuses to give the universe the direct satisfaction of being right, but he will, at the very least, admit that there are worse ways that this situation could have played out. Much worse.

Her eyes were teal, he thinks, with hints of spring green--

He shakes his head and turns back to his calculations. 

[perspective-series]

Switched Perspective (19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Mentions of Past Trauma, Mention of death/almost killing someone, Arguing, and Guilt

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the prequel!)

This is a sequel to A Third Perspective! Read that first or you will be confused!

(Totally didn’t forget to post this yesterday...)

                                               _______________

 Virgil entered back into Logan’s apartment with Roman in hand, seeing Logan and Patton already in the living room. He smiled at Patton but avoided eye contact with Logan. Things might have gone well with Roman, but Logan was an entirely different story.

 He looked around the room. “Where’s Thomas?”

 “Oh, I’m in here!” Thomas popped in briefly from the kitchen. “I figured I’d make everyone dinner while you were busy working out your feelings.” He dried his hands on a small towel. “So, how’d it go?”

 “Wonderfully!” Roman said enthusiastically.

 “Satisfactory,” Logan said, less enthusiastically.

 “It was...good. Really good, I think.” Virgil said.

 “Amazing!” Patton exclaimed, even more enthusiastic than Roman.

 “See? I knew you could do it!” Thomas began looking between them. “So, who’s next?”

 “I want to talk to Virgil next,” Patton said, causing Virgil to worry. Virgil could guess where this was going.

 “I suppose I can talk to Logan, then.” Roman offered. 

 “Oh, you suppose?” Logan muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. Thankfully no one seemed to hear him.

 “Okay, well how about you two just talk out here?” Thomas offered, gesturing to the coffee table where Logan already stood. “Then Patton and Virgil, you two can take Logan’s bedroom.” 

 Virgil nodded. “Alright.” He put Roman on the coffee table before following Patton into the bedroom. 

 Virgil stood awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom as Patton shut the door behind him. His friend then came over to stand in front of him, crossing his arms. Virgil found himself receiving the disappointed look from before. “I’m really sorry Pat, I-”

 “I know Virgil.” Patton cut him off, dropping his hands to his sides and looking at Virgil sadly. “I know. I know you and I know you regret it, right?”

 Virgil nodded furiously. “Yes, I do, so much.” Virgil’s earlier self-deprecation and thoughts came back to him and tears welled up in his eyes. “I-I almost killed them, Pat.”

 “Oh kiddo.” Patton came forward and captured Virgil in a hug, holding him tight. “Shh, it’s alright. The important thing to remember is you didn’t kill anyone, okay?” Virgil sniffed against Patton’s shoulder.

 “You sound like Roman.” Virgil let out a watery chuckle. Patton, for his part, looked intrigued. 

 “Oh?” He had to assume Roman and Virgil were friends now, with how they responded to Thomas before, but he wanted to know what happened exactly. Virgil nodded.

 “Yeah, he...forgives me. Told me not to worry about it and that I’m only a bad human because I was never meant to be human.” Patton hummed, nodding.

 “Sounds right to me,” Patton said and pulled away a little to be able to see Virgil. “Look kiddo, we’re already friends, so this talk isn’t about that. And I forgive you for everything as well, but…” Patton sighed. “I’m sure you know.”

 “Logan.” Virgil sighed and Patton nodded.

 “Yeah. I already talked to him about you. And I asked him to at least hear you out about things. So I’m going to ask the same to you, okay? I know what Logan did to you, to us, was wrong. But Logan knows that now, and he’s apologized.”

 “I-I know,” Virgil said after a moment of hesitation. Patton looked at him.

 “Virgil, both of you are feeling some of the same things right now. I can tell. You both regret what you did but you’re not sure if you can forgive the other for what they’ve done.” Virgil’s eyes went wide, that’s exactly how he felt. Even though he regretted his actions and didn’t feel like Logan deserved them, he was still...upset at Logan for everything he did before.

 But Patton was right, as always. They were in the same boat here, and if he wanted Logan to forgive him, he needed to work on forgiving Logan. 

 “I’ll try, I promise,” Virgil said and Patton grinned.

 “Good. I’m proud of you kiddo.” They hugged again before pulling away fully this time. They stood there for a moment.

 “Should we...go back out now?” Virgil asked, motioning towards the door. Patton chuckled.

 “Something tells me they aren’t done yet. We should probably wait for Thomas to come to get us.” Virgil nodded, looking around the room. 

 “So, whatcha wanna do until then?” Patton thought for a moment, before snapping his fingers.

 “Oh! I never got to really tell you about my trip out with Thomas! It was great, okay, so, we get in his car, right? And then-” Virgil took a seat on the bed, listening to Patton speak with a smile on his face as they both waited to be called back.

***

 Thomas waved goodbye to the borrowers, heading back into the kitchen. The two looked at each other, not sure what to say.

 “Sooo…” Roman tried to start off the same way he had with Virgil, but Logan cut him off.

 “Don’t.” Logan shook his head, turning away.

 “Wha- don’t?!” Roman looked offended, jogging over to where Logan stood so the nerd couldn’t ignore him. “Excuse me, did you just tell me to shut up? Did you forget the whole point of this?”

 “We’re neighbors, not friends,” Logan said, putting a hand on Roman and gently pushing him away to keep the prep from invading his personal bubble.

 “Yeah, but we have to become friends to appease the writer witches, remember?” Roman reminded him.

 “That whole idea was preposterous to begin with.” Logan pushed up his glasses. “While I had no problem strengthening my relationship with Patton, I see no reason to do the same for you or...Virgil.”

 “Okay, Virgil, I get.” Roman put his hands up in surrender, knowing Logan was still traumatized. “But why not me? What have I done?”

 “Oh, where do I begin.” Logan looked too gleeful for someone about to list off negative traits about his fellow human. “For starters, the very first interaction the two of us have ever had in person was you running into me and harming our respective borrowers, as well as myself, in the process.”

 “That was an accident-!” Roman tried to protest.

 “Ah ah ah, I wasn’t finished.” Logan waved his finger back and forth. “Even before I met you I disliked you. Frankly, you don’t even make a good neighbor. You’re rude with how loudly you blare your ‘tunes’ and disrespectful in keeping me awake late into the night. I haven’t had a good night’s rest since you moved in.”

 “You never even tried to talk to me about this,” Roman argued.

 “I left many strongly worded letters in your post box,” Logan informed him. “But after a period of time, it became clear that receptacle was never checked.”

 “So what, you won’t be my friend because I forget to check my mail?” Roman crossed his arms. “Really?”

 “Hardly.” Logan was far from finished. “Let us fast forward to after that incident. I learn you traumatized Patton,-”

 “I already apologized to him for that.”

 “-break into my apartment, repeatedly insult me, and then insist that I’m a villain for trying to protect my friend.” Logan ignored Roman’s outburst.

 “I didn’t call you a villain for trying to ‘protect’ Patton.” Roman huffed, getting annoyed. “I called you a villain because you were trying to keep two people captive. Again.”

 Logan rolled his eyes. “Then let’s fast forward to today, shall we? When you repeatedly took Virgil’s side despite the fact that he was actively trying to torture me.”

 “I wasn’t on Virgil’s side, I was on your side.” Roman insisted. “I came to rescue you. That’s why I climbed off this table to go after Virgil!”

 “Oh really?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you insist I didn’t tell Patton? Why’d you insist I lie and hide the nature of my injuries? What possible benefit could that have for me?”

 “I was trying to keep everything civil,” Roman argued. “I wanted to keep the peace between everyone. I thought Patton deserved some happiness, and I thought Virgil deserved a chance to ...change.”

 “Yes, and that worked out so well.” Logan sneered. “I almost died because of your foolish redemption thoughts. Next time, leave the thinking to those of us with a brain.”

 “Hey!” Roman knew Logan had every right to be angry at him, but that was just rude. “You weren’t innocent as a human, either.” 

 “I didn’t dangle anyone off a building.” Logan hissed, looking extremely tense as he began to shake.

 “Okay, yes, fair enough.” Roman backed up a few steps, giving Logan space. “You didn’t do that. But I talked to Virgil, and he knows he screwed up. Big time.”

 “Stop saying that!” Logan pulled at his hair slightly, tears forming in his eyes. “Stop talking about him like he’s changed or or like he’s not just waiting in there to be alone with me again and- and-”

 “Logan!” Roman rushed over, rubbing at Logan’s shoulders comfortingly. A few tears began to fall from the nerd’s face, but Roman tactfully ignored them as he pulled Logan into a hug. Roman began rubbing circles into Logan’s back.

 “Logan,” Roman said firmly. “Virgil is not going to kill you. Patton and I will stay in the apartment, okay? Thomas is here, too. You have nothing to worry about.”

 “I-I know.” Logan winced, hearing a hiccup come out with his words. He hated appearing weak, but at least Roman wasn’t mocking him for it like Logan would have expected. “Logically, it makes...sense. Virgil won’t try anything with everyone around.”

 “...but?” Roman prompted. 

 “But…” Logan sighed, pulling away from the hug to take a seat on the wooden surface. He pulled his knees to his chest. “It’s just...difficult not to feel afraid of impossibilities at this size.”

 “I know what you mean.” Roman sat down beside him. “I have been scared soooo many times today. By Virgil, by Patton...and by a certain giant rat.”

 “That thing was atrocious.” Logan shuddered.

 “Yeah…” Roman paused, finding the timing right to ask a question he had been wondering ever since that incident. “Hey Logan, why did you save me from that thing, anyways?”

 “It was the right thing to do.” Logan shrugged.

 “Well, that doesn’t seem like a very ‘you’ answer.” Roman teased.

 “I haven’t been feeling very ‘me’ today,” Logan admitted. “Although I suppose that’s the problem, I’ve been feeling far too much today. It’s exhausting.”

 “Does that include feelings...for me?” Roman said hopefully. “Because, y’know, logically, I think saving someone from a giant rat is less of a neighborly thing and more of a...friendly thing?”

 Logan chuckled. “I suppose it...could be classified as such an act, yes.”

 “And does that mean we’re friends?” Roman leaned very close to Logan, eyes sparkling.

 “Ah, not quite.” Logan pushed him back. “I still have one last question for you.”

 “Go ahead, bestie.” Roman winked, elbowing him lightly. 

 “...Why do you hate me?” Logan asked, looking down at his lap.

 “Wait, what?” Roman frowned, leaning back slightly. “I’m trying to make you one of my best friends, why on earth would I hate you?”

 “Back when Virgil was trying to scare me,” Logan winced, “the first time, he asked you for one good reason to not hate me. And you…” Logan looked at his hands, clenching them into fists. “...you came up with nothing.”

 “...oh.” Roman suddenly remembered that he did, in fact, say that.

 “All you could think to say was that I’m manipulative, selfish, and generally unpleasant to be around.” Logan gritted his teeth. “But now that some old piece of paper says we’ll be human again if we’re ‘best friends’, you’re suddenly acting all buddy-buddy.”

 “Logan…” Roman sighed. “I only said those things because I was trying to say what I thought would make Virgil listen. Anything good I said about you wouldn’t have been good enough for him, he’d just shoot it down.”

 “What, so you weren’t even willing to try?” Logan scoffed.

 “I pandered to my audience,” Roman admitted. “I talked about you in a way that I thought would make Virgil agree so that he’d see my point. I was trying to protect you.”

 “Well, you have a funny way of showing that.” Logan pointed out.

 “Okay, fair enough.” Roman conceded. “But you do have to admit that, before, you were all of those things.”

 “I was not ‘generally unpleasant to be around’!” Logan said in a huff. 

 “That one was harsh!” Roman put his hands up in defeat. “I’ll admit, not my best work. I could have phrased it better. But you were, in the beginning, cruel to both of our borrower friends.”

 “But you’ve changed.” Roman continued. “You’re not those things anymore. I know we haven’t spent much time together, but we’ve had our share of good moments. And you’re clearly listening to others, being empathetic, and using your knowledge for good. You’ve made a terrific borrower.”

 “...I do try.” Logan adjusted his glasses. 

 “And you saved me.” Roman reminded him. “Despite the fact you thought I hated your guts, you saved me. You really did do it just because it was the right thing, didn’t you?”

 “Well, yes,” Logan said. “After all, I don’t lie.” 

 “Logan, I’m...I’m sorry.” Roman apologized. “I’m sorry I ever called you the bad guy. You’re a good person.”

 Logan looked over at him. “Really?”

 “Really.” Roman nodded. “You’re a good person, who deserves a decent sleep schedule. So I’m sorry about my music, too, and when everything switches back I promise to fix that.”

 “And I shall promise to approach you with my problems rather than allowing them to accumulate in your mailbox,” Logan promised.

 Roman stuck out his pinkie, wanting to make it official.

 “Really, Roman?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “We’re not twelve.”

 “C’mon, I want to make it official.” Roman gave a small whine. “Besides, I’ve kind of got a thing going right now.”

 “Fine.” Logan entwined his pinkie with Roman’s. 

 “Excellent!” Roman stood up, offering Logan a hand to help him stand. “Friends?”

 “Friends,” Logan confirmed, taking Roman’s offer. He wasn’t sure exactly what a friendship with Roman would look like, but Logan was at least willing to find out.

[itsaboutbee]

Pre-Fight - Pacific Rim au

Guess who finally finished another thing of her Pacific Rim au??? Anyway, its basically the pre-fight part of Bruise in “The Knifehead Incident” fic thing. I didn’t have anyone proof read which is my own fault but I hope you enjoy anyway!!

Title: Pre-fight

Fandom: Ninjago

AU: Pacific Rim

Ship: Bruiseshipping

Word count: 1222

Summary: Jay is cold and too awake, Cole is a dumbass and to alseep

Jay opened his eyes and was met by the cold concrete wall of the barley lit room they currently lived in. It was a small originally very cold looking and feeling room. It almost resembled a holding cell. The room didn't have a single window either so telling the time could be a difficulty at times. Thankfully after a while of staying there the two of them somehow managed to make the room a little warmer and more welcoming.

At least Jay felt like they did.

But the heavy metal door closing them away from the hallway outside still kept their sleeping quarters from being very homey. At the start of moving in Jay was barley able to open them, while his drift partner, Cole, easily shoved them open. Since the day the two of them had met in the academy Cole had gone from an outcast chubby acne ridden guy to a handsome mountain of a man everyone loved. Jay never really care much though, like yeah, he was a little jealous about all the attention Cole now got from girls and boys, but Cole's looks were never the reason for their shared bond.

It was different.

It always had been.

The ginger shifted in his bunk, he stretched and one of his legs slipped out from under the blanket. Jay shivered when the ice cold air of their room hit his bare skin. He immediately pulled his leg back under the blanket trying to figure out why in all world it was that cold. The ginger reached for the screen mounted on the wall next to him. He pressed the small clock button and a bright greenish light light shone him right in the face. He groaned quietly and squinted his eyes to see the numbers.

The redhead finally understood why it was so freezing cold, 4:27am in early January with the heating turned on low couldn't possibly keep his slender frame warm. Cole always insisted on shutting it down before going to sleep and Jay reluctantly did so, every time. Even though he knew he'd wake up super early because he was freezing.

The man pressed the small button once again and the light disappeared. He sat up almost completely silently and got out of his bed the same way. He put on his slippers and quietly walked over to his fellow pilot's bunk. Cole was still peacefully snoring away with one of his arms over his head, his blanket only covering half his chest and hair messily strewn all around his face, covering his eyes. Jay rolled his eyes and carefully pushed some hair out of Cole's face.

“Stupid buff man never gets cold does he?”, he softly mumbled while doing so. The dark haired male shifted his head slightly, nuzzling his hand with a satisfied smile forming on his face. He sighed in his sleep. Jay couldn't help but smile, “Handsome stupid buff man...”, he spoke a little louder.

After a few more lingering seconds he carefully pulled his hand back and shuffled towards the thermostat. The ginger cranked the heat up to a temperature more fit for his thinner frame. After hearing the soft crackling that indicated the heat was actually working he went to grab some clothes from the large wall closet. With an armful of clothes he entered the shares bathroom. After taking a nice and hot shower the room had already gotten to a more comfortable temperature. He dried off, only needing to dry his short hair with a towel to not get sick. He grabbed the clothes and started putting them on. A light grey under-shirt, dark blue work-pants with a belt, and a dark blue knit sweater. Once Jay was done he stood up straight and looked in the large wall mounted mirror. He analysed his appearance. A bright blue eye staring back at him, freckles littering his pale complexion, ginger hair messily sitting in every wrong way. The man quickly fixed his hair, his fingers grazing over the scar splitting his eyebrow in two. The one that took away the sight in his right eye, the same one that gave him the chance to actually become a pilot.

He smiled and let out a deep sigh.

The ginger turned and walked back out of the bathroom to the closet. He opened a drawer. Grabbing his ID card and clipping it to his belt he glanced over to Cole. By now the man had shoved the blanket down even further and had his second arm was hanging of his bunk completely. Jay grabbed his boots and slipped into them.

The second he had finished tying the laces a loud siren and red light spread through their room from the screens next to their bunks. The redhead let out a short yelp and landed on his butt.

“Bruise Control report to Bay 05; Level A37; Kaiju Codename 'Knifehead'; Category 4”, the recorded voice of their shared friend Pixal rang through the room from the speakers. Jay scrambled up from the floor and over to his partners bed. He shook the black haired male by his shoulders, “Wake up!! We're being deployed!!”.

All Cole did was roll to his side and wave his hand through the air trying to shove whatever was bothering him away. Jay once more shoved him and yelled, “WAKE! UP! WE'RE! BEING! DEPLOYED!”.

“Mhmgh five more minutes please”, the black haired male grumbled slowly waking up. Jay sighed and rolled his eyes. “How can he sleep through this? Normal people wake up from this even if they're used to it by now.”, he thought and stood up straight again, smirking when another idea immediately came to mind.

“Guess I'll have to find a different drift partner then~”, the ginger turned with a shrug and started walking to the door, still smirking.

Cole almost immediately snapped into a sitting position, “Hell no! I'm awake!!”. Jay turned around crossing his arms and leaning his hip out to one side. Cole jumped off his bunk with a fairly loud thump and quickly started getting dressed.

“No one is getting in your head except me...”, the burly man mumbled almost fully ineligible.

Cole hated when Jay drifted with anyone but him, even back in the academy Cole got rather agitated whenever Jay was paired with someone else. He already strongly disliked even thinking about another person possibly messing around in his Partner's mind. Jealousy? Most definitely a large part of it. Cole trusted Jay with all his heart but anyone else? Rarely.

“What was that?”, the slender man shifted to the other side to get a better look at Cole.

“Nothing nothing”, the dark haired man waved off while pulling his under-shirt over his head. Jay rolled his eyes and started to tap his foot impatiently, “Just hurry up!!”, he whined.

After only a short while Cole was finally dressed. Jay immediately spun around towards the door, he shoved the heavy metal door open as fast as he could and almost tripped down the steps to the hallway. Cole had tried to grab his arm but Jay was already running down the hallway within seconds. “COME ON!!”, the ginger motioned for Cole to follow him. The dark haired male sighed, “No pre-fight kiss it shall be...”, he started running after his drift partner.

[redhoodieone]

Destroyed by Him (Part 1 of Part 3)

Okay, so this is my first attempt writing Jason Todd. I don't know how well I wrote him, but hopefully my take on him is as good as other peoples’ versions of him.

This isn’t the end though. If this part is liked a lot, and is well received, there will be a final part to it.

Warnings: Kinda smutty? Nothing to graphic yet, but there’s obviously language and sex talk going on here.

“What the actual fuck, Y/N?”

That angry, hateful but with passion voice belongs to none other than Jason Todd. He must have just come back from patrol, and while he usually returns home hungry and in a good mood (if patrolling went well), this was a different side of him I wasn’t entirely used to.

Given that I haven’t been very close to Jason, I’ve heard of his standard behavior many times. When he meets new people, he’s more guarded, more snippy and likely to become a big asshole. And when he’s around the people he’s closest to, he’s more friendly, sarcastic at times, and even a dork when it comes to his favorite literature and weapons.

And the fact that Jason knows me well enough to cuss me out for being alone with Dick is surprising. He’s never shown favoritism with me since he’s so close to Barbara, Stephanie, and Cassandra.

Jason’s always there when Barbara needs a hand on her patrol.

Jason’s always supporting Stephanie with her on and off again relationship drama with Tim Drake.

Jason even holds Cassandra on the couch during their “bonding” time. Jason would either read a worn-out book of his, or watch TV, while Cassandra naps on his lap.

The thing is, Jason is only a lovable dork who gives big, tight teddy bear hugs to girls he’s closest to.

I’ve seen the hugs. I’ve seen him hold other girls. But I’ve never been embraced by him before.

And the one time I could have used his help was when my ex-boyfriend Kyle was stalking me on campus late one night.

I even forced myself to call Jason for help (since Alfred was in London, Bruce was in Metropolis helping Superman, and Tim and Damian were on team missions).

But Jason was far too busy fooling around with Artemis, who was currently on his new Outlaws team.

Ever since then, I always thought the hotheaded former Robin strongly disliked me. I mean, I never knew why so I always just ignored it and ignored him.

But here Jason Todd stands with a violent scowl on his face; judging Dick and I every passing second.

Who gives him the right to judge me? No one, that’s who!

“What the hell are you yelling about? I’m not doing anything that should affect you or have you concerned about me,” I say, sounding as strong and tough that I can. Maybe not so much...

Jason laughs; his laugh is deep and full of mockery. His eyes warn me of how disappointed and angry he is with me.

“You’re not doing anything that should affect me or have me concerned about you?” Jason repeats, as he comes closer to Dick and I before he’s barely touching me. “You sound too honest about it. But lucky for you, I can smell liars when I see them.”

“Jason, just back off. Okay? Leave Y/N alone,” Dick warns him.

“How can I back off knowing Bruce fucked her on the counter, and knowing she gave you the wildest blow job in your life? How can I also forget how you just finger fucked her, and not taste that sexy pussy you have complete access to?” Jason demands. Now he’s pissed off and he’s shouting violently with rage in his eyes.

My eyes widen at him. “B-but why are you so pissed about it? You don’t even like me, so why the fuck would you be pissed off about all that?” I challenge him.

It’s like everything in Jason Todd snapped. All rational thoughts have been tossed to the side, he sets his Red Hood helmet down on the counter hard; beside the used paper towel with Bruce’s cum, that has yet to be thrown away.

“You think I don’t care about you?” Jason whispers, he sounds as if he can’t believe me.

“I don’t think. I know for a fact that you don’t like me. And guess what? I don’t like you either,” I snap. I can’t believe I just lied to Jason. Of course, I like him! He’s...fucking Jason Todd; Sex God.

And the most adorable nerd in the entire world.

Jason scoffs now. He bites his bottom lip, before his body relaxes and loses the built-up tension.

“Okay Dickiebird, get the fuck out of the kitchen. Now.”

“Jason, just stop and calm down,” Dick says, as he tries reasoning with him.

“I said to get the fuck out of the kitchen, Dick, or so help me God, I’ll shoot you in your kneecaps and you’ll be on bed rest for the rest of the year,” Jason threatens viciously.

Dick signs and shakes his head. “I’ll be in the living room,” he whispers to me, before heading out and leaving Jason and I alone.

At least Dick will be in the living room; not too far away from me in case Jason shoots my kneecaps instead.

Jason exhales deeply, before he faces me once more.

“You wanna know how I can smell liars, Y/N? I can still smell your arousal. You’ve cum how many times now? Two? Three? Not at all, or what?” Jason asks curiously. He tries to get closer to me, but I back away until my lower back hits the corner of the counter and I fall onto the floor, in excruciating pain.

He smirks and looks down at me. I groan at my injury and wonder what’s he trying to accomplish right now.

“Fuck...I don’t know how the old man and Dick didn’t want to eat your pussy. You smell so good. You smell good enough to eat right now, baby girl. I bet you taste so fucking good. I wanna taste you so bad...” Jason moans. He quickly unbuckles his belt and zips his pants to stroke himself through his black boxers.

“J-Jason...what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Y/N? You’ve never seen a guy stroke himself in front of a fucking beautiful girl before?”

“Y-you think I’m beautiful?” I ask softly.

Jason quickly drops to his knees, parts my legs, and settles in between them. He sits me up, despite the aching pain behind me, and forces me to look into his hypnotizing eyes. His pupils are dilated; and I can tell his breathing is harder than before.

“I know you’re beautiful, doll. I-I was just being a dick as usual, since...I don’t like letting people into my life. I don’t want to bore you with how I’ve been abandoned, have trust issues, and don’t necessarily know how to...care for people the way they care about me,” Jason admits, and sheepishly looks away due to his lack of confidence. He’s always doubted himself, and always put himself down compared to Dick. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I like you so much that I thought if anyone had a chance with you, it would obviously be Dick. I mean, have you seen me? I’m not exactly ‘best boyfriend material’. I sleep with a gun under my pillow for fuck’s sake!”

“Hold on Jason. No one’s talking about me having boyfriend right now. Let’s just go to the living room and talk there, okay?” I suggest.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Y/N. You see, I already have you beneath me, with your stained panties on, and your legs already open for me.”

“I don’t think we should be doing this...” I begin, before Jason interrupts me and slams his lips against mine.

Our lips together match like puzzle pieces. Jason’s tongue is dominate in my mouth as well, but his lips are soft and caress against mine. Who would have thought Jason could be such a great kisser?

Jason hastily pulls away from me; revealing our long, spit strand between our mouths. We’re both breathing hard now.

“If you don’t think this is a great idea, then why are you grinding against me to feel my cock, Y/N? Oh, baby girl, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I wanna taste you so bad, and maybe if you’re a good girl who lets me eat you out so good, maybe I’ll even fuck you better than my old man and ass-kissing brother. I’ll show you how to properly scream my name, beg for me to make you cum, and want me even after our fun,” Jason vows, before he pulls my yoga pants and panties down in one swift movement. The second my glistening pussy is exposed to him, Jason glances up, and grins evilly. “Now, be prepared for your pussy to be destroyed by me.”

[babbushka]

1973

Happy New Year everyone!! I love my adam driver fan fam so much, I hope you all have nothing but light and love and good things in the year to come. I’ve met so many incredible people in 2018, and I’m so looking forward to seeing what 2019 has in store for us!! 

Please enjoy this short Flip Zimmerman x Reader fic, and have a safe and happy evening!!

Word count: 2,000

Warnings: Very minor angst

1972. What a crazy year, you thought as you took a sip of the punch in your hand.

Between the attacks in the Munich Olympics and Watergate, you were exhausted. It seemed like every time you turned on your television there was more bad news. Of course there were good things too, like the newly passed Equal Rights Amendment and the premiere of The Godfather, but…on the whole you were ready for a new beginning.

Only a few minutes remained of the year, and you found yourself surrounded by the officers and staff of the CSPD at their end of year party. The fluorescent lights were turned off, replaced with rotating colorful ones that made it feel very much like a school dance. The music was blaringly loud – someone managed to snag a copy of the new ABBA record – the food was good, and the drinks were better.

Someone on roller skates zoomed past you, and in the middle of the room a conga line had broken out. The corner of your mouth twitched into a smile as you watched Janet, the elderly secretary, leading the line and weaving it around the craft services table where you currently were hiding out.

“(Y/N)! Come on, join us! You know you want to!” Janet called, shouting over the loud music.

“I can’t, I’ll spill my drink.” You shouted back with an apologetic smile. Janet winked and led the conga line away.

You loved working at the CSPD, and you were glad to be with your friends, but something was weighing on your mind.

Across the bullpen was Flip.

You two had been flirting back and forth for what seemed like ages, although it really could have only started eight months ago when you had started working there. With the way he looked at you, and the way you two spent almost all of your time together, you had desperately hoped he might ask you out at some point over the holidays, but it never happened.

In fact, over the slight holiday break, Flip had grown distant. You weren’t sure if it had been because of something you said – maybe you had come across too strongly? – or something else altogether, but it had been a great source of anxiety for you these past few days.

Any time you approached Flip, he would make a turn and head the other direction. When you were lucky enough to get to talk to him, he would make an excuse to leave as soon as he could.

It was crushing, to say the least.

So there you were, mere feet from the man you had begrudgingly fallen in love with, only to have him want nothing to do with you.

You wouldn’t even get a New Year’s Kiss.

Something about that thought was the final straw for you, and you chugged the rest of the spiked drink and threw your cup away, escaping to the bathroom.

You wished you had the guts to just ask Flip what his deal was – why he turned his attitude on you so suddenly. You wished it didn’t matter, but it did. Flip was your best friend at the station, the two of you always passing each other notes, whispering in the halls like teenagers, sharing coffee in the morning and meeting at the water cooler in the afternoon. He’s fallen asleep on your couch more times than you could count, and you’ve spent more time at his apartment than you have your own, simply enjoying each other’s company, laughing until the early hours of morning.

Having him avoid eye contact with you for nearly a week was a punch to your gut.

“Pull yourself together.” You told your reflection in the mirror, jabbing a finger against the glass. “1972 is over, 1973 will be better, and you will be happy, damnit.”

Your reflection didn’t look too convinced.

Splashing some cold water on your face, you patted yourself dry with a paper towel and returned to the party, a new cup of punch in hand. This time, you stood near the trash can, wanting to distance yourself from the party as much as possible. You were proud of yourself for not looking for Flip, eyes set on the falling snow outside that you could see through the window.

“Whatcha doing all the way over here?” A friendly face appeared out of the crowd.

You recognized the man as being one of the newer officers to the station, his name was something generic, like Bill, or Bob, or Barry – you couldn’t remember.

“Just having some punch, it’s really good.” You replied awkwardly, not really wanting any sort of conversation with Bill(?).

“Mind if I join you?” Maybe Bill asked, before blushing scarlet and stammering, “I just mean – I – you looked a little lonely, is all.”

You were trying to figure out how to politely decline, when you felt someone step up behind you.

“Actually, (Y/N) was just waiting for me.” The deep rumble of Flip’s baritone seemed to pass through you before it could get to Maybe Bill. “You can go now.” Flip dismissed the junior officer, who scrambled away.

“Hi Zimmerman.” You say softly, so soft that it gets lost in the music, but Flip somehow hears you anyway.

You don’t bother turning around, you know who it is, and you think that maybe he should be on the receiving end of the cold shoulder this time.

“Can I talk to you?” He asks, making your chest clench. “Outside?”

Finally you turn, and you’re face to face with him for the first time in days. You frown – he looks awful. Like he hasn’t been sleeping, or drinking enough water, or something. Your first instinct is to be worried about him, is there a case that has him stretched too thin? He never did know when to step back and take care of himself.

“Sure.” You find yourself nodding, walking out of the bullpen and through the lobby doors to the outside patio.

In your haste, you didn’t grab your jacket. Your arms immediately wrap around yourself to provide some warmth.

“Here.” Flip says, draping his thick jacket over your shoulders. He’s frowning, and you frown too.

“Thanks.” You say, pulling your arms through the jacket sleeves. You try your hardest not to think about how strongly the corduroy smells like him. “So…” You say, clearing your throat.

“So.” Flip agrees, jamming his hands in his pockets. “I know we only have five minutes before the new year, but I wanted to apologize.”

He looks nervous, afraid of you for some reason. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Flip afraid of anything, not even when he was facing down the klan. He was avoiding eye contact again, but this time it wasn’t out of annoyance or dislike, it was out of an embarrassment of some kind – which was even stranger to you.

“For what?” You ask, trying and failing to keep your hopes from rising.

“For being an ass and ignoring you the way I was.” He sighed, his breath making puffs of steam in the air. “I thought that maybe it’d be best for us if I stopped this in its tracks, before it could become dangerous.”

“Flip…” You whispered, your mind caught on what this could be.

“No, (Y/N), you have to listen to me.” Flip continued, finally finally looking at you. He was pleading with you, so you let him speak. “When Ron and I went on that case, all I could think about was you; What if I got hurt, what if you got hurt as a result of being involved with me?”

“Flip – ” You went to interrupt him, but he was having none of it.

“You know the cases I work, the danger that goes along with it. If they had found out I was a cop, and they knew about you, they could have…I dunno.” He shook his head, trying to get the thought away from his mind before it could turn into something more real. “I couldn’t let – I couldn’t…”

“Flip.” You stepped close to him, a hand on his cheek.

“I’m in love with you.” He blurted. Your eyes went wide, and he rushed to keep talking, rushed to get it all out before you had a chance to say anything back. “Have been for a while. I know I probably just..fuckin’ ruined our friendship and everything but I need you to know.” He sighed, a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, after a moment of stunned silence.

Flip chewed his lip, reaching up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. Flurries of snow dusted the top of your head, and the shitty light from the lampposts backlit you like an angel.

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same.” Flip shrugged, feeling foolish for admitting anything at all. “I figured if I told you and you rejected me, things would get weird and you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore. That maybe you’d think everything I said or did was some ploy to get you to be mine.”

“I was already yours, Flip.” You said, causing him to still immediately. “From the very first day I stepped into the office, I knew I’d be yours.” You confessed, blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Wait – are you saying..?” Flip asked, needing you to say the words, needing to hear them come from your lips.

“I love you too, you mountain man.” You smiled.

“Yeah?” Flip asked, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah.” You nodded, laughing with how giddy you felt.

Flip laughed too, in disbelief that this was real, that you were real.  

“How much time do we have left?” You breathed, stepping impossibly closer to him for warmth, and to be close.

“Fifteen seconds, why?” Flip checked his watch, and you knew your face had to be beet red, but you didn’t care.

“Because I want to start my new year off right.” You said, licking your lips.

Flip watched the movement, and got the hint, because ever so slowly, he began to lean in, until his forehead was pressed against yours. Your noses rubbed together, waiting to hear the countdown from just on the other side of the station doors.

“Ten! Nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one! Happy New Year!”

Fireworks exploded overhead, a beautiful display of white and gold that lit up the night sky.

Flip wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours. You couldn’t get a good grip on one another because you were both smiling too wide, but soon the kiss turned passionate.

Flip wrapped his arms around you, and walked you to one of the poles that held up the awning of the patio, pressing you up against it for support as he let his hands wander. They roamed from your face to your hips, warm fingers smoothing down your sides as they went.

You tangled a hand in his hair, the other one gripping at his bicep to keep you steady. You opened your mouth just a touch, and it was all the invitation Flip needed to slide his tongue against yours, hot and slow.

The cheering that exploded inside the station felt like it was happening on another planet, lightyears away from you. To you, there was only Flip, and his hands, and his mouth. You gasped into his embrace as his hands dipped below the waistband of your skirt, just for a moment before pulling away.

Flip broke the kiss and smiled. You smiled back, reaching up to him to press a peck or two more against his lips, not wanting it to be over so soon.

“What do you say we ditch the party?” Flip asked, sliding the bridge of his nose against your cheek.

“Hell yes.” You giggle, Flip leading you to his car that was parked in the first space of the lot. “Happy New Year, Flip.” You say, when he opens the door for you.

“Happy New Year honey.” He replies with a grin, leaning over to kiss you once more. “Here’s to 1973.”

Tagging some friends! I lost my big tag list post-purge, so if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future reader insert fics, please leave me a comment or send me a message and i’ll add you! @fullofbees @spinebarrel @oh-adam @dreamboatdriver @bad--bad--man @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @aweirdlookingtree @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd