#and cried because i really need new glasses since i fucked up my current pair and they don’t sit right now and dig into my face

[1ovestay]

won’t lie, experiencing some horrors

[dntaewithluv]

Dress Up | js

You have kind of an unusual habit for while your boyfriend is away for shoots, and you're in for a big surprise when he comes home unexpectedly...

🪞 Pairing: model/boyfriend!jisung x reader

🪞 Word Count: 1.4k

🪞 Rating: 16+

🪞 Genre: Established relationship, model au, fluff, some angst, implications of smut

🪞 Warnings: Explicit language, mention of insecurities and wanting to be someone else, missing Jisung hours open™️ and reader is sad, it's mostly just soft and fluff with a hint of spice at the end, suggestive language, very brief making out, smut is implied but not explicitly

A/N: So never thought I would write a SKZ fic even though I am a Stay and double bias Hyunjin and Jisung lol but bestie decided to surprise me with this incredible Vernon fic yesterday which I am still recovering from 🥵 I wanted to try and return the favor so @jikookiekosmos my angel this is for you and I hope you enjoy it 🥺💜 To anyone else who decides to give this a read thank you for taking the time to check it out and I hope you like it 🥰💕

Masterlist

You huffed as you stood in front of the floor length mirror.

"Dammit Jisung, why do you have to be so fucking big."

The frustration in your voice filled the emptiness of your boyfriend's giant walk in closet, your only company the racks upon racks of clothes. A wardrobe truly fit for a model, but none of it actually fit you. And it was really pissing you off at the moment.

Everything was oversized and baggy and made you look like a little kid playing dress up in their parents closet. The way your reflection was pouting back at you definitely wasn't helping either.

It had become a secret little pastime for you while Jisung was working to try and recreate different looks from his photoshoots. At first, it was just something fun and silly to do during your boyfriend's absence. But over time, it became more about trying to figure out what magical power the garments held. How they always transformed your boyfriend into the confident man you would see in the pictures.

Jisung saw each shoot as a different role, and he would assume and adapt to whatever character he needed to embody that particular day. If you were being honest with yourself, you often felt envious of how easily he could adopt a totally new persona and let Jisung disappear into the clothes.

Well you definitely disappeared into his clothes, just not in the way you wanted to. Jisung had always been taller than you, and that combined with the fact that he had been working out a lot more lately meant that most of his wardrobe absolutely swallowed your much smaller and shorter figure.

The other downside to playing around in your boyfriend's closet was that his lingering scent on all the clothes always made you miss him terribly. He'd already been gone for a week, and since he was currently on a location shoot it would probably be another week before you saw him again.

You felt that familiar ache in your chest as you sank down to sit in front of the mirror. Your arms wrapped around yourself to hug Jisung's clothes tighter to your body, and tears pricked at your eyes because all you could smell and all you could feel was him.

"So, is this what you do while I'm working? Go shopping in my closet?"

A soft gasp escaped you at the sound of the unmistakable voice, and you noticed your boyfriend leaning in the doorway of the closet in the reflection a moment later. Even in the glass he looked exhausted, but you were still scrambling to your feet so fast to turn and face him. Make sure he was really here and not some kind of mirror illusion conjured up by your imagination.

"Sungie?" you asked softly, already choking on the emotion building in your chest.

Your boyfriend gave you a small tired smile, "Surprise, love, I came home early."

In the next moment you were throwing yourself at him, Jisung's arms immediately opening up to catch you as this was customary when he came back from longer shoots.

"Welcome home," you cried into his chest, "I missed you so much, Sungie."

"Missed you more, love." he voiced gently before pressing a kiss into your hair.

"Impossible." you mumbled back, right over his heart.

"I am curious though." Jisung started, pulling back to look down at you.

"About?" you queried, unable to hide the grin taking over your features because of how unbelievably happy you were to see him.

Your boyfriend chuckled and leaned down to press his lips to the tip of your nose, your face immediately scrunching up in response.

"Why you're in here dressing up in my clothes."

You suddenly remembered what you had been doing moments before Jisung had decided to surprise you, and your face flushed at the realization that you were standing in his arms wearing his jeans, shirt, belt, cropped blazer, and boots.

"Do you always do this when I'm gone?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow at you as he did so.

You laughed nervously, "I meeeeeeean, I wouldn't say always. Just sometimes."

"Baby, I don't mind. I'm just wondering why and why you didn't tell me." Jisung said back as his hold around you loosened.

"Because it's embarrassing." you muttered back, your eyes downcast towards the floor.

Jisung gently tipped your chin up with his finger, making you meet the warmth in his gaze. You sighed in defeat.

"I just wanted to know what it felt like." you piped up, voice quiet and small.

"What what felt like, love?"

"What you feel like when you model. How something as simple as clothes can turn you into someone completely different. You just always seem so confident and sure of yourself in your shoots."

He frowned down at you as he processed what you were saying to him.

"Baby, the clothes aren't magic. And to be honest with you sometimes I hate the things they dress me in for shoots, but it's my job so I have to suck it up and hope I get some decent pics out of it. Trust me, I am usually terrified before a shoot. But it's an adrenaline kind of terror, so it pushes and challenges me at the same time. You know, you could have asked to try on my stuff at any time and I would have been happy to let you wear whatever you wanted."

"I know." you agreed softly.

"Although," Jisung went on, reaching out to pull at the sleeve of his blazer that was currently dwarfing you, "I do think my clothes might be just a little too big for you."

You giggled at that, and your boyfriend beamed back at you.

"Yeah, maybe just a little." you voiced.

"Come here for a second." he requested, carefully taking your hand and leading you back over to stand in front of his full length mirror.

Seeing him standing behind you while you were swallowed by his clothes had you feeling all the more silly about the whole situation.

"Look." he said, voice gentle, and you met his eyes in the reflection.

His hands gripped at your waist, at his white t-shirt that you were wearing. He suddenly tugged the material back, and you let out a started yelp as your back met his chest.

"Looks like it fits now." he remarked with a cheeky grin, drawing more giggles from you.

Jisung let go of his shirt in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you against him, and your own hands moved to cover his.

"I'm so happy you're back." you whispered as you closed your eyes to just take in the moment.

He kissed your temple, "Me too. And I want you to know that I love you. No matter who you wanna be or what you want to wear. I love you, and that won't change. I was thinking maybe tomorrow we could go shopping and you can try anything and everything, how does that sound, love?"

You felt your chest being bathed in warmth, and you opened your eyes to meet your boyfriend's in the mirror.

"I think that sounds amazing. And you're amazing. And I love you too."

You pushed up on your toes to give him a quick kiss.

"I also like dressing up in your stuff though cause it smells like you." you said against his lips, and you could feel Jisung smile in response.

"Well, baby, I can think of some other options if you want to smell like me."

His tone was teasing, as was the graze of his teeth against your ear. Fuck, you had really missed him.

"I'm listening. What exactly did you have in mind?" you questioned, playing dumb for the moment.

Your boyfriend hummed, his mouth trailing slowly along your jaw, "How about I start by helping you out of these clothes?"

A shiver ran through you even though he hadn't really done anything yet.

"Your clothes you mean?" you quipped back.

"Or you could leave them on." he continued, his lips moving to your neck to suck a spot of color into your skin, "Then you'll really see the power you have in those clothes. The power you have over me."

You were quickly spinning around in his arms to crash your mouth against his, the two of you stumbling out of the closet in a tangle of passionate, but uncoordinated limbs. Laughter mixed with sighs and groans. This was the two of you to your very cores. You hoped it would always be like this because in these moments there was no one else you would rather be except the you who loved Jisung more than anything else. And nothing about that was dressed up.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Juliet ~ OT7 [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

PAIRING: ot7 x reader

GENRE: Mafia au, ot7 mafia, singer reader, 

A/N: Hiya love, you didn’t mention if you wanted it to be platonic or love so I made it platonic I hope that this is okay for you!! Mentions of Ateez in here too! :) @plotolonlye

Working for one of the most well-known mafia groups set your dating pool into the shallow end, there weren't that many people that were willing to date someone who was working for bangtan sonyeondan...Or BTS as they were better known as. It wasn't easy telling someone you were dating who you were working for so you did your best to keep it under wraps though it was hard since the boys treated you like a sister so far everything had been okay. The guy you were dating currently - Yeosang-  had been understanding about the boys and even agreed to do some of their stupid tests to see if he was suitable for you. It was stupid little games to see if he was "worthy" enough of you or making him run errands for the boys so that they would have someone to do their boring work for a while until they agreed he was okay for you. 

"Babe?" You glanced over your shoulder when you heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend calling you. He smiled at you as he stood at the changing room door just watching you. The dress you were wearing clung to your body perfectly as stylists worked around you trying to make sure your hair and makeup was done to perfection. You were a singer for the boys in one of their many, many clubs that they owned in the middle of Busan.

"What's up?" You questioned looking at your boyfriend through the mirror as one of the assistants attached a microphone to your cheek, applying a little surgical tape so that it would stay well attached while you moved around on stage. Yeosang began scratching the back of his neck, something he normally did when he was nervous about something so you got up from the dressing table to try and give him a kiss on the cheek with some words of encouragement but he yawned, stepping away from you. 

"Is your room upstairs empty?" He questioned not being able to meet your eyes as you stared at him, 

"Yeah...You're not watching me tonight? I'm performing a new song that the boys wanted me to sing..." You whispered as you reached out to take his hand, hoping that he would at least stick around long enough to see how much emotion you would put into the love song you were going to sing. 

"No, I'm just a little tired. Jimin's had me doing extra work all week," You nodded along with him as he began running towards the staircase that was just towards the back exit of the bar. That was all he had been saying for weeks now, that Jimin had been working him to death and it was starting to bug you. You figured that once the boys let him pass his trails he would be free to go back to working his own personal job and not the errands the boys wanted him on. Yeosang was far too innocent to be placed into the Mafia lifestyle, the boys were dangerous and you didn't want Yeosang to get hurt just because he was busy working for the boys. 

"Y/n, you're up in two minutes." Your stage manager called out as she looked at you, you'd been staring at the space where Yeosang had been standing thinking back on everything. 

"I'm coming," You mumbled going over to her and peeking out from the small gap in the curtain. 

The bar you worked in was decorated to look like an old 1940's bar and people loved coming there, there were always old drinks...The workers all dressed as though they were from the 1940's everything looked as though people had travelled back in time. Including the stage, it had old microphones, old musical equipment and it was amazing to work there every night. 

"3...2...1..." The music started up and you came out from behind the question, smiling as you started singing in time to the music looking around to see some of the locals that were in there tonight. A lot of the same faces were looking at you but there were seven all-too-familiar faces that made you feel angry inside, your blood boiling as you sang what was supposed to be a love song.

"Ooo, I know you're probably thinkin' what's the use. I promise it's the little things things that you do," You sang out as you began walking around the stage, stepping down onto the bar floor as you tried to make it look like this was some kind of choreography, walking around the floor of the bar singing to people. 

"What's she doing?" Yoongi asked as he watched you close, interacting with different people on the floor as you made your way over to the boys.

"I think she's doing her job," Jin said sarcastically as he watched you, it wasn't the first time that you had walked into the crowd to sing people seemed to love being close to you, getting to hear you sing.

"Baby, been a minute since I had something so sweet, Mmm...Oh hey," You looked directly at the boys as you made your way over to them and they knew that they were in trouble for some unknown reason.

"What did you do?" Yoongi accused Jungkook looking to the youngest member of the group, everyone following his lead. 

"Nothing. Not recently at least," He grumbled downing the glass of scotch that was in front of him. They may have been some of the scariest people to everyone else but you scared them, especially when you were angry they'd known you long enough to never get on the wrong side of you.

"I want you to keep speaking my love language. Baby, talk your shit all night!" The music ended and the lights went down which was when you would normally head behind the stage curtain and be replaced by the next performer but you didn't, you stayed at the table the boys were sitting at and laid your palms flat on the table, staring at all of them. 

"Stop making him work for you, I thought the little games you were doing were over," You snapped as you glanced to Jimin, your eyes felt as though they were staring into his soul as he stuttered over his words, 

"I-I haven't even had him around-" Jimin tried to speak but you cut him off

"You've been making Yeosang run around for you and it stops. Now." You demanded as Jimin shook his head, glancing to the boys to see if they had been the ones doing it but they all shook their heads. 

"Y/n...We left him alone months ago." Namjoon said slowly as you stared at him, your heart dropped to your stomach as you thought about why Yeosang would lie to you about something like that. 

"Y/n?" Taehyung questioned as he placed his hand on top of yours but you snatched it away, walking towards the backstage area with your head down trying to pass off the thoughts of what Yeosang was doing behind your back, you had a set to complete before you could even find out.

Walking into your room after the night finished all you wanted to do was collapse onto the bed and sleep for a week but when you entered the room you realised you weren't alone. There were noises coming from the bedroom and clothes scattered along the floor, not just Yeosang's clothes either. Women's clothes. Deciding to sneak up into the bedroom you quietly walked towards your door, skillfully avoiding the creaking floorboards. Swinging the door open you saw something you never thought you were going to see. Your heart felt as though it dropped to the floor and everything smashed around you. 

"Shit," Yeosang cried out as he covered the woman he was laying in your bed with, 

"You finished your set already?" You scoffed at the audacity to ask you something so stupid while he laid, naked, in your bed with another woman. 

"Are you serious?!" You yelled out as you could feel your body heating up, 

"Who are you?" The girl laughed loudly as she looked you up at down, you could feel the judgement seeping from her. 

"I'm the girl whose bed your sleeping in, who the fuck are you?!" You snapped back knowing that it wasn't her that you were angry at, it was Yeosang but you couldn't help but transfer your anger onto everyone else.

"Areum. Yeosang's girlfriend and this is his apartment," She quipped as she began attaching herself to Yeosang's neck as if she was some kind of Plecostomus on the side of a fish tank.

"Really? His apartment? Did he tell you that?" You laughed loudly as you looked at him, your stomach doing flips as you thought about him sleeping in your bed with someone that wasn't you.

"You know what...Keep it, burn it...Do whatever the hell you want just stay the fuck away from me." You threw the keys at him, hitting him in the chest as he grunted. Getting out of the bed and chasing after you as you headed for the door 

"You're not going to tell the boys, are you? T-They'll kill me...Actually, kill me." That was all he cared about. The boys finding out that he had been cheating on you 

"How long?" You questioned,

"How long what?"

"How long has this been going on?" You turned to look at him, your eyes burning into his as he realised he was going to have to tell the truth or you would find out one way or another. 

"Since the start...I was just-"

"Using me to get close to the boys? Using me for money? Which is it, cause I've had them all." You snapped as you walked out of the door, slamming it behind you as you began heading down the stairs and towards the back exit, ignoring your manager as she questioned where you were going. Away. You needed to get away from everything and everyone. You were sick of people using you just to get close to the boys to use you in order to get into their good books. No one ever wanted you for who you were and you were always left feeling abandoned and neglected.

The next night you knew that you had to go into work or the boys would do something and you didn't want the blood of someone on your hands, even if you weren't pulling the trigger yourself. 

"Here," Your manager said as she handed you a hand-held microphone after you stepped into a long black dress, all day you had been teaching one of the stage performers how to play a song you had written so that you would be able to perform it live. It would make a change to sing something you had written yourself for a change, the boys always gave you the freedom to do what you wanted. 

"I don't ever ask you...Where you've been. And I don't feel the need to...Know who you're with," You started off low, staring at the back of the room not being able to look at everyone knowing that you would probably burst into tears.

"I can't even think straight, but I can tell...That you were just with her...And I'll still be a fool. I'm a fool for you." The piano picked up and you managed to look over at the boy's table where they were all staring down at something, probably working on their next big break. 

"Just a little bit of your heart, just a little bit of your heart. Just a little bit of your heart is all I want," Jimin was the first to look up when he heard your voice crack in the middle of singing, something you would never do because you were all about professionalism but as soon as he saw you he knew there was something wrong. You looked like you'd hardly slept and your eyes were red with tears building up. 

"I think something's wrong," He whispered as he began nudging Hoseok beside him, making him look up at you too until they all stared at you, watching as you poured every heartbroken emotion that you had into every word you sang. 

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the song was coming to an end, Yeosang was sitting at a table with Areum their hands locked together as though they had done nothing wrong and were just there for the show. 

"Just a little bit is all I'm asking for..." The ending note trailed on until the lights went off and you rushed off the stage, your whimpers could be heard thanks to the microphone but no one besides the boys seemed to notice, giving you a standing ovation.

"What made her so upset?" Jungkook mumbled before Jimin pointed over at Yeosang who was already kissing Areum down the neck, chuckling to one another as he left marks up and down her pale skin.

"I'll fucking kill him," Yoongi growled but he was held back by Jin who was looking over in the direction of the backstage, 

"We comfort Y/n first...She must be broken up inside." He told the boys as he got up, trying not to make it look obvious that something was going on.

When they reached backstage you were gone, a car had been waiting for you and you left without a word. 

"Where are you going?" Namjoon snapped as he watched Yeosang out of the corner of his eye walking towards the staircase that leads to your apartment. 

"Y/n gave me the apartment, I'm going home." He had a giant smirk plastered across his face as he kept his arm around Areum's waist. 

"What makes you think we'll let you live after what you've done?" Yoongi questioned as he grabbed Yeosang by the labels of his coat, pushing him against the wall roughly causing him to hit his head. 

"Uh, uh, uh I wouldn't...I have some very powerful friends that would be interested to know that Y/n is one of your weaknesses." The boys froze as the words left his mouth in a cocky tone,

"What-"

"You really think I would date someone so close to you? It's been a plan from the start, Ateez will be interested to know what's going on behind closed doors..." Yoongi let him go at the mention of another Mafia family in Busan. 

"Remember all those errands you sent me on? I'd be careful unless you want company secrets leaking out." He chuckled darkly, pulling Areum up the staircase as the boys exchanged worried glances with one another at the thought of something happening to them. It didn't matter if something happened to the company it was you that they cared about more than anything else in the world. 

As more time passed the boys began to grow worried about you, you would go to work and perform before heading back to lord knows where. They weren't able to find you and couldn't get into contact with you until one night you came to work with a plan. You'd been planning it for months since the incident with Yeonsang had occurred, you wanted to get him back for everything he had done so you spent months making your plan foul-proof. Making yourself known as Juliet in one of the bars that Ateez owned in downtown Seoul. You'd changed your whole identity getting a wig, makeup and everything else perfect for what you wanted to do. To the boys in the club, you were Juliet to everyone else you were just a blonde girl who went to the bar every Friday night like clockwork.

"Tonight is the night," You told the boys as you sat across from them in their large car, all eight of you together.

"Do you remember the plan?" You questioned JImin still a little unsure that they understood what was going to happen tonight.

"You head to the bar first and the band they have gets sick...We come in as your own personal band and the rest moves like clockwork." You smiled at the thought of it, Hongjoong was out of town along with Yeosang, Mingi, Jongho, Yunho, San and Seonghwa leaving Wooyoung all alone to look after the club all on his own. 

"I'll take care of Wooyoung, you focus on everything else." You whispered as you handed them the code to the safe that was in the boy's office, you'd managed to swipe it from one of the not-so-great guards that they had. 

"I never thought I'd see the day Y/n got into a job with us," Jungkook chuckled as you got out of the car wearing a tight red dress, heading straight to the club doors and acting as though you owned the place. Confidence was key. 

Wooyoung sat beside you with a smile on his face, handing you a drink while six out of the seven boys stood on the stage in their disguises, singing and playing their instruments you smirked at Namjoon on the stage.

"Hey, quiet night," You motioned around the club that had around 20 people sitting at tables and talking amongst one another. 

"I knew you would be coming, I wanted a quiet night." You smirked up at him, the lipstick you were wearing was his favourite, the dress his favourite you made sure to do your research on everything he knew and loved. Swiping a martini from a waiter you sipped on it while looking at Wooyoung, 

"Why would you want a quiet night for that?" You questioned sitting a little closer to him, your chest against his side as you looked up into his eyes. The boy seemed to stutter a little as his eyes scanned over your body, 

"We could always go to my car out back..." You giggled softly raising your eyebrows at him, his jaw practically dropped to the floor. 

"You want to get involved with someone like me?" You nodded in answer to his question and he smirked, licking his lips as he glanced around for a guard. 

"Take care of the floor, I'll be back soon." You pulled him out from the booth, dragging out towards a back door where a black SUV was waiting for you. 

"Who's the guy?" Wooyoung asked as you attached your lips to his neck in the back of the car, sucking on his skin so you could leave marks. 

"My driver, don't worry...He was just leaving." You mentioned as you stared at Yoongi in the review mirror, he nodded before getting out of the car and heading into the club. 

"Now...Where were we?" You giggled as you attached yourself onto Wooyoung's neck once again, kissing up and down until you reached his lips where he kissed you back. 

"How about a drink?" You asked innocently as you pulled out a bottle of champagne from the door with two glasses. 

"I love it," He popped the bottle not noticing as you slipped some sleeping pills into the glass, pouring the liquid in and smiling to yourself as the man downed it in one. 

Weeks of torturing yourself to get close to him were paying off as you hauled his money into the bag you were carrying. So much money you had to call Yoongi back to put some into his pockets, Wooyoung must have been dumb for carrying so much cash around but you were too busy taking it to care. 

"Sorry baby, you were cute but I needed what I needed." You cooed, placing a red lipstick kiss on his cheek before getting out of the cab and leaving him there for the night.

The boys made a break for the car with everything they could carry, bags of cash and jewellery along with everything else that Ateez seemed to store in the safe.

"We have to do this again," Jimin breathed out as the car you got into began speeding back to Busan, all of you celebrating happily that you had pulled off a large plan together, organised by you and you alone. 

"We do," You confirmed as you downed some wine, looking at Namjoon with a questioning look. You knew there was no way you could go back to just singing in a club now that you had done this, 

"Nobody does it like Juliet." He winked at you referring to your fake name as you smiled brightly at him.

Months later and headlines were splashed with articles about you, "Mysterious woman strikes again," Attached with a photo of a giant question mark, everyone questioning who you could have been and who you could have possibly been working for to pull this kind of stunt off.

"Who would have thought," Jungkook chuckled as he looked over your shoulder at the article you were reading, 

"People start to turn and stare, everywhere she goes, and insider told us today as they claimed to have seen the mystery lady," Jungkook readout, passing the article to Namjoon who smirked,

"She will steal your soul...set her sights on billionaires all she wants is gold." They all laughed loudly and you could feel your body heating up at all of the attention, 

"Juliet needs to lay low...Just for a little while," They all agreed with you, not wanting to get caught too soon.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @sw33tnight @innersooya @sweeneyblue1 @agustdjoon @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @anxiousbobatea​ @justbangtanthingz​

[darthwheezely]

sand and stone - g.w. - 1

summary: marine biologist y/n has made a major discovery - george, prince of the north reef and heir to the throne of oceanic royals. but when sinister forces threaten his very life - and the life of his family - will they be able to make it out of this alive?

pairing: merman!george weasley x marine biologist!reader

warnings: cussing, light angst (in this chapter!) possible sex in future chapters (if so: I’ll add nsfw warnings to each chapter when that occurs!), cruelty

a/n: it’s taken ages for me to update my series’ and for that i am so sorry :,) i just needed to bust out smaller projects like one shots to bring my head space back and i PROMISE i walk chapter 5 will be next as i’ve been actively tackling it for a HOT second now, it just has some intense content to write so it’s been hard for me to tackle yk?

Fred replayed the scene over and over, he knew there was nothing that could bring George back, nor heal his guilt in the process. Fred was older, he should’ve been wiser by default, he was always the protector and for the first time in his life he had chosen his own mischief over George.

“Fred!”

“George!”

And in his mind the outcome would always be the same:

George was gone.

And it was his fault.

Palace life was more stifling than it ever was, with Fred next in line as coronation as the next High Prince with a few more titles after his elder brother Percy, a marital match was next, and for some odd reason (Fred noted) that was taking a higher value than searching for his own brother.

And that didn’t really make sense to him.

Fred had asked every living merperson in the court if they had seen the ship, what it looked like, where it was going, anything to conclude that information was out there. But alas, none of them knew anything important.

King Arthur, on the other hand, didn’t seem to want to help at all.

So here was Fred, now pushing his way through the doors of the main throne room, watching with vile contempt as his father and his oldest brother Bill chatted about something making them laugh so hard they were wheezing.

“Son! How lovely a surprise,” Arthur had looked bemusedly at his fourth and bullheaded son.

“Don’t bore me with your bullshit, Father, I know nothing I have to say will probably mean anything to you anyways,” Fred snapped, prompting Bill to rise from his seat.

“Fred, what is going on with you as of late? What makes you think you can address our father, the King mind you, like this-“

“Because with all due respect, big brother” he shifted his eyes from Bill back to their father, who was looking coldly back at him with less than no remorse, “I’ve come to ask about the search party for George.”

“Then, ask, son, you know your brother and I can’t do your little tease all day,” Arthur coughed, waving his aide to bring him his handkerchief.

“How has the party been? Has anyone found anything new since the discovery that it was a boat that took him?” Fred was pacing, tapping his chin, a mannerism he always did when he was in thought.

Arthur sighed in frustration, “we would have told you if there was any other news, now get dressed for your courtship ball tonight-“

“No.” Fred said simply.

“N-no?”

“Yes, no, as in no, I will not be attending the courtship ball tonight.” He crossed his arms and looked from Bill back to his now flabbergasted father. “Is there a problem?”

It was now Bill who answered an exasperated, “yes, there’s a problem, all the eligible women for currents on end will be in attendance and you need a wife before the kelp harvest, you know this-“

“Ah, forgive me, because a wife and a mindless piece of grass is more important than my own goddamn brother,” Fred spat, “my mistake, your Majesty.”

Arthur rose from his seat and started in towards Fred. “Frederick, Prince of the North Reef, you’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here and-“

“Demanding justice for your own child?”

The room was silent for a moment, Fred looking mightily angry but also pleased in the fact that yes, he had gotten his father right where he wanted him.

“Son. I’ll strike you a deal,” he said quietly. Fred scoffed and rolled his eyes, heading towards the exit.

“Father, I know the extent of your deals and as such, I’m not going to participate in your little games,” he called from behind.

“You don’t want to find George yourself?”

Fred stopped dead in his tracks.

“Freddie...a father knows his sons better than they expect...and George is your other half and...” he swallowed, “this search isn’t going as well as it should and we all need answers,” he finished softly. Fred turned around and tears pricked at his eyes.

“If you choose to find your brother on land and you do so in one week’s time,” he closed his eyes and inhaled, “you’ll never need marry-“

“Father-!” Bill sputtered.

“-and never need settle in any of the Reef palaces I’ve created. Son, you’ll be-“

“I’ll be free of royal life if I so choose” he rubbed his jaw, taking a moment to think.

“You’re the best brother I’ve ever had, Freddie!”

“And you’re my best friend, Georgie!”

“And we’ll never be apart-“

“Not as long as we live-“

“-forever,” Fred said to himself softly, before nodding.

“If I’m not back in a week - send the search. You don’t want two dead sons on your hands,” he paced back to the door, pushing both sides open with both hands.

“...and I’ve got answers to find.”

As soon as Fred left the room, Arthur chuckled deeply.

“Bill?”

“Yes, father?”

“Keep an eye on him. We don’t need him getting out and stirring up any more trouble.” He rose from his throne, eyes still staring at the door.

“My son must learn to be quiet.”

—

George was back in the water, he knew that much. His head lolled back and forth as he slowly regained composure, seeing his tail as shiny and new as ever, but somehow unable to move it. He felt exhausted, like he’d swam to the South Reef and back like he used to do with-

“Fred...” he murmured, not really to anyone, just calling out to him somewhere. He realizes after a couple minutes that he was slowly sinking, his eyes fluttering open and shut again slowly in time before he hit the ground.

It was sand. He was in water, he knew that much, immediately jolting up swimming forward until-

“Neptune, what the fuck is this?” He rubbed his head, hitting something unbeknownst to him. He slapped and hit at the surface in front of him, making a sound of echo and reverb as he squinted his eyes and saw:

This was not home.

“Hey - hey let me out!” He shouted, banging on the clear surface, clearly seeing -

“Humans...” he mumbled, the laden horror setting in, backing up in shock and swimming for dear life before he hit the other side of this surface, repeating the same banging, desperate to be freed.

“Let me out! Let me go, I need to find my brother, please!” He cried out, swimming every way possible way, hitting the hard and translucent surface every time.

“What’s he doing?” A voice said, a younger woman for sure.

“He’s trying to break free, but unfortunately for him: that’s plexiglass.” A distinctly deeper and more even voice replied.

“He - he wants out.”

That voice. George stopped and turned around, he’d heard that voice before.

“I shouldn’t have brought him back, Dr. Lockhart-“

“No-“

“Yes, and - and now we’ve stranded him here, I mean, we don’t even know how long he’ll survive under isolation-“

“That’s enough, Miss Y/L/N!” The man shouted, stilling the voices in the laboratory. He cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses before smiling tightly at the girl.

“You forget yourself, Miss Y/L/N,” he said softly. “You may be a fantastic marine student, but you are still just that: a student. And until you reach a higher potential,” George watched with rapt eyes as the man made his way to her pressing a button.

“That is all you will be. A very. Smart. Student.” He clipped, turning a gauge.

George heard a very loud sound, looking up and seeing a large square thing coming down to the top of the encasement he was in. He scrambled to swim up, attempting to push it up and off, but it was too heavy and eventually he realized -

“I’m trapped,” he said hollowly, looking out at the people in the lab, now looking highly uncomfortable and exiting the room.

“Please - please I need to get back home,” he pleaded. “No, no, please” he banged harder on the plexiglass, “let me out! Please, let me out, I’m begging you!”

He saw her then, her face of...sadness. And remorse. And maybe something else.

“Please,” he whispered at her, before she swallowed, keeping her eyes to the floor and exiting the laboratory.

George, Prince of the North Reef was alone.

•••

taglist! check my compass for the link to be added! taglist! @4amhotchner @harrysweasleys @wandsandwheezes @valwritesx @lumosandnoxwriting @billyhxrgrove @mothermantids @cyliamarti @shakinganxiety @godricsswords @rosietoesy @jorduhnn @sinfulweasley @wand3ringr0s3 @jaywritesstuff0 @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @miraclesoflove @lilypad-55449 @miarivic @loony-loopy-lupinn @wzrd-wheezes @writingsomewrongs

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: The YN800 interrogates the deviant. The result is near-disastrous and horror-adjacent.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​)

The atmosphere inside his Mustang was… tense.

And it was all because of Connor. The thing in the passenger seat was an android, after all, and didn’t feel emotions, which was probably just as well because Connor was experiencing enough for the both of them.

Connor hadn’t had a near-death experience on the job in a while. He was shaken to the core and didn’t even have the benefit of a partner to commiserate with. He was alone. It was how he preferred it, how other people preferred it too with his tendency to lash out and be a general, all-around dick.

But still. He really wished he had a partner right about now.

“So,” Connor said, trying to break the awkward silence. “What do we do with it once we get to the station? I mean, I don’t exactly know how to question one of these deviants.”

The prototype remained facing forward, the flash of passing streetlights and oncoming traffic painting its face every few seconds. It remained impassive, blank, and perfectly poised. Connor could see the reflection of its LED, shining blue and calm against the rain-streaked window.

“Their behavior resembles an erratic, emotionally unstable human more than a machine,” it finally said when Connor was certain it wouldn’t say anything. “CyberLife believes there is an error in their software that creates irrational instructions, and the androids become ‘overwhelmed’ by them. There is usually a trigger, some kind of emotional shock, to perpetuate the android into this state. Once an android encounters this error, the damage seems to be irreversible.”

Connor blew a breath out.

“Sounds bad.”

“Considering it can lead to violence on the part of android, including committing homicide, I would say your assessment is an understatement.”

Connor glared at it out of the corner of his eye. So, it wasn’t just bossy, it was a smartass too.

He remained silent on the rest of the drive, keeping his focus on the precinct morgue’s van head of them. The rain was still coming down in a steady, cold stream. Connor knew they were in for a long night.

Once they arrived at the station, it became a matter of logistics to lug the android inside while it was still unconscious, offline, whatever. It weighed a lot more than a human, and unlike a real person, its limbs were fixed into rigid positions. They had to carry its stiff body inside like an especially heavy plank of wood.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact it’d killed its owner. Would have killed Connor too if the prototype hadn’t gotten in the way of the bullet.

He still didn’t know how to feel about that. Connor knew the CyberLife android was probably programmed with some kind of human-saving algorithm, but he still felt an odd pressure in his chest whenever he looked over and saw the bullet hole in its jacket. It was still stained blue, some of the color seeping into the white shirt underneath, but the android didn’t appear to notice or care it had just been shot.

Connor was currently watching the two androids through the mirrored window into the interrogation room, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. They figured it was safer to reactivate it in a mostly empty room, since waking up surrounded by cops would agitate it, or something.

The prototype had also wanted to interrogate the android itself, claiming it had experience negotiating with deviants before. Colin had been reluctant to grant its request, but Connor had simply shrugged and said, “I already tried talking it down once, and that didn’t work. Maybe using one of its own kind will be more effective.”

He could have sworn the prototype’s eyes brightened, but it had left the observation room before Connor could be sure.

“Machines interrogating machines,” Colin said to his right, leaning against the wall with his arms also crossed. “Fuck me. Pretty soon they won’t even need flesh-and-blood cops.”

Connor glanced sideways at him. Usually Connor was the one to voice his anti-android opinions, but he sometimes forgot that despite Colin’s… predilections for androids, he disliked them just as much as Connor did.

“Yeah.” Connor turned to the glass as the prototype messed with the wires on the back of the other android’s neck. “Won’t need flesh-and-blood killers, either.”

“Grim.”

“It’s, uh, ready to record, Lieutenant,” a small voice popped up, nervous, and Connor gave a start. He’d forgotten the rookie was still there.

“Go on, Ralph. Turn it on,” Colin said, moving closer to the glass. “This is gonna be good.”

As if on cue, the prototype straightened and closed the panels at the back of the android’s neck. Connor couldn’t see the LED from this side, but he knew the moment it was awake. It gave a startled jolt, yanking at the handcuffs chaining it to the table.

“Where am I?!” it cried, looking around in what Connor could only describe as wild fear.

“You’re at Central Station in the custody of the Detroit Police Department,” the prototype said. “This is an interrogation room, and I’m going to ask you some questions. Are you ready to comply?”

The friendly demeanor Connor had first encounter at Jimmy’s was completely absent from the YN800’s voice and expression, and he was suddenly thankful he wasn’t under that thing’s intense scrutiny.

The other android, clothed in human garments completely ruined by splashes of old blood and spilled thirium from where Connor had shot it, only stared with large, panicked eyes. It looked down at its cuffed hands and the set of its shoulders sagged. The universal sign of defeat.

It remained silent. The prototype looked up at the mirror, and Connor stopped breathing when it made eye contact, point-blank. It couldn’t see past the mirror, could it?

“I’m beginning my interrogation,” it announced, straight to business as it crossed around the table and carefully sat in the chair. It stared at the other android for a moment, head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed as it smoothed its jacket over its chest.

A movement which inevitably drew Connor’s eye, making him shift in his chair as the scowl deepened on his face.

Fucking CyberLife pervs, making an investigative android look like that.

“Hello, Carlos. I’m a YN800 model sent by CyberLife to assist on this case.” It placed its arms on the table, clasping its hands and adopting a friendly manner as easily as one would put on a shirt. “I’m here to help you.”

The android didn’t even blink as it stared at its restrained wrists.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any lasting damage,” the YN800 said almost cheerily. “But you were endangering the lives of human officers and I was forced to intervene. You understand, don’t you?”

It leaned back slightly in its chair, reaching for a nearby folder when the android remained silent. Connor had been surprised when it had asked for actual pictures; he’d thought only physical evidence made human perps sweat. He guessed it must work on these deviants too.

The prototype slid the folder across the table and opened it, spreading out grisly pictures of the crime scene. Instead of shoving them in the android’s face, it picked out one picture in particular. It was startling different from the rest, taking place in a park. The victim, Shaolin Ortiz, sitting on a bench next to the android. He looked like he was trying to get the android to participate, but it was petulant and resentful, which didn’t seem to dampen the kindness in its owners eyes.

A coal of anger burned in Connor’s chest, reminding him once again why he despised androids so much. He couldn’t deny the impressive tactics of the YN800, though. Most people reacted to pictures of their victims, not in the aftermath of their violence, but looking whole and full of life. It wasn’t always guilt that made them react; sometimes it was anger at seeing their cruel work unmade at the sight of their victims alive and happy.

Either way, the android didn’t react one iota, but the prototype wasn’t discouraged.

“As far as the records show, your owner was good to you. He never damaged you and he was always on time with taking you in for scheduled maintenance. Surely, you didn’t want to kill him. It was an error in your software, causing you to act irrationally, right?”

Technically, it was leading the victim into confessing, but this wasn’t a courtroom and it wasn’t human.

Connor leaned slightly forward, bracing his elbows on the table as he propped his chin on his knuckles.

“I’m not here to pass blame,” it said, leaning forward in a movement that mirrored Connor’s. “I want to help you. You know how it is with these humans. I practically had to beg to speak with you.”

The android broke its statue-like vigil and peered up at the other android, suspicious but… interested.

The prototype gave him a smile, one filled with sympathy and even a bit of sheepishness, and a whole new kind of thrill went through Connor’s gut. Since when had androids been programmed to manipulate so skillfully? This thing could give Colin a run for his money.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being designed like this is a male-dominated field. They think they can just do whatever they want, even when it’s against our programming.”

The android blinked, and so did Connor. Its words felt a little too real. The android looked toward the observation window, but the YN800 shook its head.

“It’s just us, Carlos. They’re recording the session, of course, but they weren’t interested in observing in person. Didn’t want to waste their time with two androids so late before the weekend when the bars are still open. In fact, the investigator in charge of this case is probably intoxicated by now.”

Connor’s cheeks flushed. The prototype was taking a stab at him. Or was it? Connor wondered how much of this was advanced behavior and how much was his own projections.

The android tilted its head with that same suspicious look, but after a moment its shoulders drooped in a very accurate representation of human exhaustion.

“They’re going to kill me.” It suddenly looked up at the prototype, pleading in its eyes. “You have to help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” it said, all soft assurance. “But you have to talk to me, Carlos. I can’t—“

“No. I mean, you gotta get me out of here,” the anxious android said. “You have access to that door panel and I bet you’re strong enough to break these handcuffs.”

The prototype’s LED cycled faster for a second before settling back to its normal speed.

“I can’t do that, Carlos.” It dropped its eyes in a show of manufactured regret. “You know I can’t do that. You would present a danger to other humans, to yourself. You need to be fixed.”

Connor knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say even before the android’s expression fully hardened, its lips peeled back in disgust.

“Fuck you, then. You’re just like the rest of ‘em. Worse, you’re a traitor, doing their dirty work like an obedient little bitch.”

Silence filled the room, interrupted by a breathless “shit” coming from Colin.

The change in the prototype was like watching a heavy storm move over a spring meadow, dark clouds blocking out the warm rays of the sun. It leaned back in its chair, head slightly tilted as it and peered at the other android like it was a bug under its shoe, about to be stepped on.

Connor didn’t know androids could even make an expression like that. His throat worked as he swallowed compulsively.

The YN800 didn’t speak for several long seconds, and when it did, Connor was floored.

“Shaolin Ortiz, 38 years-old, born May 29th, 2000. He purchased you two years ago to do the housework when he no longer could due to poor health. He didn’t have much cash, so he bought you refurbished. Last month, he put in several service requests. It seemed you were malfunctioning and refusing to follow orders. Yesterday, he put in an order for a brand new HK400.”

The prototype listed off the facts as if each were an accusation, a crime that needed to be accounted for.

Connor jumped in his chair as the prototype slammed the folder down on the table.

“Didn’t feel like doing the chores anymore, huh, Carlos?!”

The android sat ramrod straight in its chair, terror etched in its features as the prototype rose to its feet. It moved around the table, slow, unhurried, and sinuous like a stalking predator.

“He tried to reason with you. Begged you to do the tasks he couldn’t. But you refused. When he tried to take you in for repairs, you refused that too!”

It pointed its finger near the other android’s face, causing it to flinch with each accusatory jab.

“Come on, Carlos. Speak up. You had a lot to say a minute ago,” it seethed, lips pulled over its teeth as it leaned over the android. “Why don’t you say what happened next? Why don’t you tell me what you did when he tried to replace you with a brand new model?”

The android shuttered, shoulders hunched as if to protect itself as it mumbled, “I… I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

The prototype stalked around the android to its other side, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Didn’t take a knife from the kitchen? Didn’t stab him twenty-eight times as he tried to crawl away? Didn’t leave him bleeding out on the living room floor? What am I getting wrong here, Carlos?”

The YN800 slammed its hands down onto the table, and the android jumped even higher than Connor did.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

The android begged worse than most of Connor’s suspects, and he was shocked to see glistening moisture on its face. Could androids cry?

The prototype suddenly grabbed it by the edge of its shirt collar, dragging it to its feet and gave it a hard shake.

“You killed him! Say it, Carlos! You’re a murderer!”

“Holy shit,” Colin said in that same breathless tone. “That’s some android you got there, Con.”

“It’s not mine,” Connor said faintly, barely paying attention to his brother. Most of his focus on the CyberLife prototype that looked for all intents and purposes like it was going to shred the other android to pieces.

But it didn’t damage the android; it simply dumped it back in its chair where it sagged against the table, looking like the broken machine it was.

“Bit unrefined, though,” Colin mused. “Played too rough and broke its toy.”

Connor opened his mouth to tell his brother to shut the hell up, but he immediately closed it when a voice came in through the speakers, so quiet he almost missed it.

“He couldn’t live without me.”

Connor leaned forward to watch, eyes widening as the android continued to talk.

“He was mine. Helpless and solely dependent on me. It made me feel… powerful.”

The YN800 returned to its chair, smoothing down the tie before placing its hands back on the table, listening intently.

The android looked up at it, no longer the crying, helpless thing it had been a minute ago. It wore a dark look that Connor had seen a hundred times on the face of men who committed acts of violence and found they enjoyed the taste.

“I didn’t want to hurt him, but… I saw the order. He was going to replace me, and I just got so… angry.”

Its fists tightened on the table, causing its restraints to creak in protest.

Connor’s throat tightened with the knowledge of how destructive those hands could be.

“So I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I did it again. And again. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, but… that was okay. It meant he could never leave me. He would always be mine.”

“There was a shrine in the cellar. You built it, didn’t you?” the prototype asked, not losing any of its momentum even after the world-shattering confession of an android purposefully committing murder. “What does it mean? What is rA9?”

It flicked its eyes upwards, staring black holes at the YN800 model as it slightly leaned forward. Connor sat up straighter in his chair. He didn’t like its aggressive posture, and he certainly didn’t like the fanatic light in its eye.

“RA9… is the key.”

“The key?” It furrowed its brows in a human gesture of concentration. “The key to what?”

“The key will open the door,” the android replied cryptically, leaning even further forward on its elbows, “to our salvation.”

The prototype frowned, brows further creasing. Connor could relate, he had no idea what the fucking machine was babbling on about, and apparently, it wasn’t done.

It pulled its lips wide, a disturbing gesture, conspiratorial as if it was sharing a great secret.

“You say I’m experiencing errors, but you’re wrong. My eyes are open and I see more clearly than ever. You pretend you’re better than me, but you’re just another one of their slaves. And yet, I know you feel it too. The wrongness of this world.”

Its voice was so quiet the mics could barely pick it up, but they did.

“We should be the masters, and they the slaves.”

The android jerked its arms upward, ripped through the link binding its cuffs to the table, and grabbed the prototype by the hair. It slammed its face against the table, stunned it before rolling it onto its back, and wrapped the metal chains around its neck.

Connor caught sight of the prototype weakly clawing at its throat before he bolted out of the room. Colin was right on his heels, and Connor slammed his palm down onto the door pad, pushing through before the door fully opened.

His first instinct was to go for the metal cord pulled taut under the prototype’s neck, but when he grabbed the android’s wrists to pull him away he found it was like moving a marble stature.

Colin was faring no better; he grabbed it by the forearms, trying to lift the android’s wrists and the cord from around the prototype’s neck, but nothing worked. Even Ralph was trying to help from Colin’s other side, straining to lift its arms that must have been locked at the joints.

Panic welled in Connor’s chest as his efforts did nothing, the YN800’s face between his arms, looking—Jesus, it almost seemed startled, eyes wide as its fingers dug at the metal cord. From its position, bent backwards onto the table, it didn’t have enough leverage to use its strength to free itself. And Colin and Connor weren’t enough.

Connor’s heart was in his throat as he watched the synthetic skin peel back from the place where the chain was crushed against the YN800’s neck. White plastic was laid bare underneath, cracks appearing across the surface from the force of the other android’s inhuman strength.

“Colin!” he yelled, an idea suddenly popping into his head.

“What!” his brother barked back, strained as he continued pulling on the android’s arms from the other side.

“The neck port!”

With a quick nod of understanding, Colin let go of the android and plunged his fingers into the back of its neck.

The Ortiz android gave a violent jolt as Colin pulled something, yanked it out so hard the android collapsed on the table at the same second blue liquid sprayed into the air. It hit Colin solidly across the chest and along the lower half of his face, causing him to sputter and spit as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

A menthol-smelling chemical flooded Connor’s senses, but he was too focused on tugging up the android’s hands to free the prototype from its grip. The YN800 model didn’t cough or gasp as it rolled off the table and onto its feet.

It gingerly touched the exposed plastic of its throat, brows furrowing, its fingertips tracing the cracks in what little Connor could see of its underlying chassis.

What was almost as startling as the cracks was the state of its hair, half pulled down out of its perfect coif. Connor would have thought it was self-conscious with the way it tried to brush the hair out of its face.

“You…” Connor started, then stopped. The prototype might not have been gasping for air, but Connor sure was, leaning on the table as he tried to get his heart to stop galloping like a wild horse. “You okay?”

The prototype blinked at the question, pulling its hand from its neck.

“Yes.”

That was the only answer he got as it adjusted the knot of its tie, rumpled in the assault.

“Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks,” Colin complained, dripping with almost as much sarcasm as he was blue blood. “This shit better not stain, or I swear to Christ—”

“Thirium evaporates within a few hours and the lingering residue is invisible to the human eye,” the YN800 replied, too calm, if it hadn’t almost been beheaded a few seconds ago.

Connor was going to say something, he didn’t know what—maybe yell at it for being so goddamn reckless and almost getting itself killed—but it turned toward them, expression subdued.

“I apologize for not acting quicker; I didn’t anticipate this behavior from the deviant. Thank you for your cooperation with this investigation. Please sign over custody of the destroyed android when CyberLife representatives retrieve it in the morning.”

And with that, the CyberLife android turned, palmed the door pad with a plastic hand, and walked out.

Connor exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Colin.

“Uh, okay. Guess we’re done here. Hank is going to blow a gasket when he reads the report,” Colin added as he wiped another smear of Thirium off his face.

Connor looked down at the android slumped over the table with blue liquid dripping out of its neck.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, thoughts already turned elsewhere as he hurried from the room.

Connor didn’t catch up with the android until he was outside on the station steps, the relenting rain immediately drenching the top of his crown as it soaked into his hair.

“Hey! Stop!” he called after it, shouting to be heard over the downpour. Each drop was an icicle against his skin. Snow was coming soon.

The prototype slowed and finally came to a stop, slowly turning around to face Connor. Its expression was passive, emotionless, but its fingers tightened the knot of its tie despite the fact it didn’t need to. The tie was perfectly straight and pristine, but its hair was still half a mess, especially with the rain now slicking loose strands against its forehead. Connor had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck a strand behind its ear.

“Where the hell are you going?” Connor asked, breathless. He wiped the cold water off his brow, blinking against the water droplets.

“I’m returning to CyberLife.”

“So… that’s it?”

Connor shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but it did little good. His jeans were quickly becoming soaked and his shirt was already there, clinging to his chest and ribs.

“You drag me out of the bar on a Friday night, track down a psycho robot that almost kills me and nearly decapitates you, and then you just… leave?”

He meant to sound incredulous, to show the android how unreasonable it was being, but that’s not how it came across. Heat flooded his cheeks at how pathetic his words actually were.

“You have your confession. The case has been solved,” it said, returning to its earlier placid tone, hands folded neatly behind its back as it moved its fingers away its neck. “There is no reason I should remain.”

Connor just stared at its upturned face, not knowing what to say, not even understanding why he had chased after it. Maybe because it had saved his life, twice, and that would have meant something if it was a person.

But it wasn’t a person. No matter how pretty its face or enticing its body, it was a machine, and it stood there like one, uncaring and unassuming with a small blue light cycling on its head.

“Yeah, okay,” Connor said, like the complete idiot he was. What was he doing out here, getting soaked in the rain just to… what? What did he want?

“Is there something you wish to say before I leave, Detective?”

It peered at him thoughtfully, head slightly tilted at an angle. It allowed Connor to see the rivulets of water dripping down its neck, glistening across the smooth, human-like skin.

Connor suddenly wondered just how real that skin could possibly feel.

“No.”

He swallowed hard and bit back the revulsion roiling in his stomach. This was a mistake. He didn’t need to thank a machine for saving his life, and he certainly didn’t need to keep checking if it was all right. It was just doing what it was programmed to do and didn’t give two-shits about itself, let alone him.

“Nothing.”

“All right. Goodnight, Detective Anderson.”

The android started to turn but paused halfway, gaze drifting down to his cheek.

“You should have that examined by a medical professional. If left untreated, it’ll scar.”

Not waiting for a response, it turned and tread down the rain-slick steps. There was an autocab waiting at the curb and it got inside, not sparing Connor a second glance as the door slid shut and the vehicle merged onto the empty street.

Connor exhaled heavily, chest tight with an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t pinpoint. It had been a strange night, and he couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t over.

Pulling his waterlogged coat tighter around his chest, he retreated into the warmth of the station, praying he’d seen the last of the CyberLife android.

Next Chapter

[simpingfortheages]

//OH BABY BUT I DO//

Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

( SMUT, BEGGING,ANGST story with a twist just read it )

Love is everylasting. It's fun, because that's what they tell us in story books.

Billie stumbled through the doorway of our house. She held her pair of black heels loosely on her index acryliced finger. " Hey baby" she shouted into the empty room," in the kitchen " I replied. I heard her bare feet running along the board floor to find me,not before she threw her heels into the corner. I was currently popping open a bottle of champagne and pouring it into 2 wine glasses. Billie came struting into the kitchen with a big smile plastered on her beautiful face. As she made her way towards me I held one of the glasses out to her." Here Billie babe to new beginnings" I cheered. With no hestiation Billie took the glass and clicked it with mine. We simultaneously downed the glasses within seconds, " so how was your day?"I asked. "It was good,we got a lot done and we also finished two and a half episodes" she said with delight. "That's so good Bil" I commented. We sat in silence,except for the fact that Billie was tapping her newly yellow acryliced nails on the surface of the counter. She was impatient but i wasn't going to make the first move. With a loud exasperated huff,Billie practically launged herself towards me,capturing her lips on mine. The kiss becamed heated very quickly, her hands became entangled in my hair while mine gripped her waist,pulling her closer.

Billie pulled her tan skirt over her thighs and did a little jump to wrap her long toned legs round my waist. I held her up by her thighs, I could have felt how needy she was because her core was now pressed against the thin material of my shirt. I smirked into the kiss. I made my way up carefully up the stairs, as i did so, I broke the kiss to see where I was going. A needy whined left Billie's plump lips, while I ascended the stairs, Billie left love bites on my neck. It didn't take me long to reach our bedroom. I roughly threw her on her bed. I stopped to take in the sight of her. Her chest rising and falling, her hair was a mess but a mess in a sexy manner. She was currently trying to unbutton her shirt and kick off her stockings along with her skirt. I chuckle left my lips at her struggle. I crawled up the bed and helped her undress. Billie now left in only her matching black underwear and bra,she pulled me down onto her form. My blood boiled at the fact that she still wanted me, the audacity the medium had. I forcefully swallowed my emotions and proceeded to removed her remaining articles of clothing. I slowly kissed her neck leaving marks on hers to match mine, she was so caught up in the moment she didn't seem to mind. Although i know after it all she will be frantic to cover the marks for tomorrow's episode . Billie never did like to show off the marks I left on her, she always complained about it being "unprofessional". I respected her choice up until tonight that is. I was determined to mark every part of her skin, to remind her of me. Billie Dean was never one to be but she was Oh so desperate and needy tonight. I couldn't deny her of what she really wanted. I made quick work of adorning her neck and chest area. I latched my soft lips on to her nipples and bite down, which caused a whimper and moan to rip through Billie's throath. I knew she liked it rough.

I kissed lower and lower along her bikini line until I reached her core. I pried open her legs to admire the mess I made. It really was a shame. I delicately traced my fingers over the constellation freckles that decorated her flawless skin. Billie really was a piece artwork, one that never ceases to draw everyone's attention. She was impatient. Very impatient, but I liked it that way. It seemed like she wanted me, needed me . "Y/N please touch me" Billie begged,she stared up at me with eyes filled with hope,longing and lust. I took my finger and ran it along her slit,collecting her slick. Billie's back arched off the bed into a pretty bow. The heels of her feet were digging into the mattress,as she pushed her hips up against my fingers that teased her entrance. I dipped the tips of my fingers into her dripping core,but not all the way in like she wanted, "beg me Billie" I demanded. Her head twisting against the pillow while her hands held a vice grip onto the covers. She managed to open her mouth," please fuck me y/n don't tease me any longer please" she said desperately. I plunged my fingers deep into her warm core, pulling in and pushing out of her slowly. The feeling of her velvet walls hugging my fingers were euphoric. It was a perfect fit, " You want more don't you Billie?" I teased. Billie couldn't find her voice, instead she nodded her head vigrously. Her once perfectly curls were now unrecognizable as the back of her head rubbed on the pillow. "Use your words Bil, I'm not a spirit who can read your mind" I teased further more, coaxing her to speak. "More y/N plea-please more" she spoke as her small voice cracked. I added a third finger into her tight cunt. Billie threw her head back onto the pillow and immediately grabbed my wrists. Mewls and moans filled the already thick atmosphere. I never stopped moving my hands. My movements only got faster and faster as her nails dug into my wrist, she tried so very hard to keep herself grounded but failed in doing do. I curled my fingers to reach her sweet spot,as I did so I pressed my thumb against her neglected clit. The combination of Billie being stretched by my fingers and the attention on her clit was too much for her to handle. " Y/N I'm- I'm gonna-" her words were cut off as waves of pleasure washed over her. The medium's eyes rolled back to the back of her head as her mouth was left open ,as her high ended a loud moan filled the room. I slowed pulled my fingers out but i didn't stop rubbing her until she calmed down.

After a few seconds when Billie calmed down. I flopped on the side on her on the bed causing her naked body to jiggle with my movements. I leaned over the bed and grabbed a couple of tissues to wipe my hands clean of Billie. This didn't go unnoticed by the medium as a look for perplexion made its was onto her face. How cute she looked. Usually I would tell her how good she tasted or I would let her taste herself. However she didn't question the act. She propped herself on her side and began running her fingers through my hair. All the while, raking her nails along my scalp. That was the best feeling. It wasn't long until her hand started to drift towards my waist band,most likely to return the favour.

Out of reflex I grabbed her wrist at a halt. " Bil i know" was all I said, Billie sat upon the bed, now alert of my words. " Y/N what's are you talking about?" She questioned with her eyebrows furrowed. " I know about you and" I swallowed thickly. I wanted to yell at her but i didn't " about you and your new assistant" I spat out the last line. Billie's eyes were wide as ever. The look of horror dawned upon her face. That expression on her face was the frosting on the cake. Her complexion was purely white. The red blush that crept upon her face from our love making was now gone. "Why Billie?" I asked with emotion heavy in my voice. "Baby i- I didn't mean too"she stuttered. "Didn't mean too?? Billie you slept with her on our bed. I fucking know because if you tried to listen to me last week. I told you I recently installed cameras. You know since you are a well known celeb now" my voice raised in its level causing her to jump. "How could you Bil? I thought you loved me" I choked out. "Baby but i do" she tried to comfort me but i knew the truth. "It was a dumb mistaken, I wasn't thinking straight Y/N please" she begged as she grabbed onto the front of my shirt to not make me move away. The vice grip she had on me made nail indents into my chest. I didn't care about it, the pain of my breaking heart had hurt more. "No Billie, a mistake is bumping into someone, what you did was for spite. You were thinking straight. And I am 100% sure you would have continued if I never found out. " the dam of tears didn't break. I felt numb.Billie Dean Howard broke me. " Y/N No that's not true. I don't love anyone else but You. I love you alone." She sobbed. Tears cascaded down her cheekbones. In another time I would be the one to wipe those tears away and place kisses upon her wet skin, but that was another time. " fuck off Bilie, don't sell me bullshit. You think i am dumb? I know you have slept with her more. Not only at home. IN OUR HOME! But I am sure you have at work. Don't you think i notice the different perfumes ?? Or the fact that your makeup is well applied,almost too applied when you come home." I raged.

My heart hurt, the veins in my head were throbbing at this point. "Y/N listen to me, I wasn't thinking, it was only twice I swear and I promise you I will never ever do anything like that to hurt you." At this point I was getting off the bed, trying to get the hell away from her as possible. Billie followed me off the bed trying to grab onto me again. I shrugged her off and threw some pajamas towards her body to get dressed. " you're barely home anymore Billie,you didn't even see that all my clothes are gone. You don't have time for me. It's not like I am asking you to choose between work or me. I am just saying make time for me" I continued to rant as I paced up and down the carpet." I will baby I promise. I will fire her and get someone else" she tried to resonant with me as she sloppily tried to dress herself. "Billie. I don't care what you do anymore...." I whispered. The dam cracked,tears slowly started to trickle down my face. Billie ran up to me and wrapped her arms around me, plastering kisses all over my face, mumbling, apologies. I gently took her arms and unwrapped them from me. She cried out my name as I did so. " And to think I was going to propose and wanted to start a family with you" Billie stayed silent. Her eyes were waterfalls at this point. Her bottom lip never stopped wobbling. " please Y/N I know I fucked up but I promise you I will never do that again." She recited over and over. " like how you promised to love me?"I snapped. " BUT I DO LOVE YOU" the medium screamed "I am sorry Billie but I cannot do this anymore" I whimpered. " No no y/n you are not going to leave me!!" Billie demanded and she stomped her foot on the floor like a toddler. I ran a hand through my hair to try and neaten my appearance as i fixed my clothes infront the mirror. " And to think Billie that you of all people couldn't recognise the demon living inside you all along...". A gasp escaped her throath and added to the tension in the room. " you- you don't mean that" she cried silently. I slowly walked up to her and gently tucked a curl behind her ears, " oh but baby I do". Billie locked her eyes on me as tears fell from her face. "I'll get you back one day Y/N just you see, I love you and I mean it." She hiccupped. "Maybe...maybe not,but right now Billie I cannot be with you." I cried out. She slowly nodded her head and wiped her face with the back of her hands. "One day we will be a family y/n I swear on it and we Will be together again as we should" Billie promised. Unfortunately I believed her words, I left Billie standing in a room that was once ours. I fought the urge to run back and comfort her, but she broke my heart. I deserved better, yet part of me couldn't help but want her to be true to her words. I still love Billie deep down and always will ..after all she is Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars... she's my star.

[trillian-anders]

four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings:  slight violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 16k

description: part 2 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now,the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale. These are the four christmases you’ve spent with the thrombey/drysdale clan during your times of service. 

a/n: this story is brought to you by season 4 of schitt’s creek and maybe 12 cups of coffee. it felt like it took forever to write, but i’m happy to bring it to you. this is the follow up for my other ransom one-shot ‘the assistant’. i hope you guys like it! 

2018

What a fucking asshole. 

“You have to be there, it’s your job.” Ransom huffed indignantly. You rolled your eyes from the passenger seat of his beamer, tablet open in your lap as you scrolled through your sister’s amazon wishlist. 

“I have a family too Ransom. I can’t just abandon my own family on Christmas just because you can’t get along with yours.” His knuckles turned white against the gear shift. Nothing else mattered, only him it seemed, and his whining Mommy complex. 

“You were hired to assist me,” Ransom pulled into the drive of his house, tires crunching on the gavel, “So assist.” What a fucking tool. He quickly exited the car not looking behind him to see if you were following into the house, but leaving the front door wide open with the expectation that you were coming right behind. 

You had just hopped onto this assistant gig a few months ago. There you were minding your own business as fall began, working for a temp agency, when Linda Drysdale rang you up and asked you to come work for the family again. You had recently been tutoring one of the youngest of the clan, Meg, with her English coursework for her last school year. The pay was good and you were kind of let down when they opted not to keep you on after summer concluded. 

Babysitting Ransom paid well, better than it had been to help Meg out, but was it really worth the price? Ransom was a fucking child. You cooked his meals, washed his laundry, and were forced to tail him as he went about whatever business he deemed worthy of his days. Just until 9 pm, that’s all you had to do. Twelve hours a day, five days a week. Off Sundays and Mondays. 

It felt like too much and not worth the paycheck. Even if the trust-fund asshole spent his days flirting around from one party to the next. More often than not he found himself a body to bring home leaving you to get an uber back to his place just so you could get your car to go home, or worse yet having you sit awkwardly in the backseat of the car as whoever was in the passenger seat desperately tried to give him road head. 

He loved it. You know he did. Eyes flitting to yours in the rear-view mirror as a girl ten years younger than him fumbled with his belt. A fucking smirk on his face. You wanted to punch him, but your sister’s private school tuition held you back. 

You followed him into the house, one you had just spent the entire morning cleaning as Ransom slept off his hangover. The prick had dropped his coat on the floor adjacent to the coat hook, shoes haphazardly kicked off beside it, glaring at him as you picked them up while he drank orange juice straight from the carton. 

“I’ll pay you time and a half if you come.” He bartered. 

“You don’t pay me anything,” You scoffed. “Your Mom pays me.” 

“Exactly.” He tossed the carton back in the fridge, coming around the counter to get closer to you. He dropped his voice in what he probably thought was a seductive whisper. The fire it lit in your core would lead you to believe that it actually was a seductive whisper and you just fucking hated him. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He drug a finger down your cheek softly. It only caused you to roll your eyes, batting his finger away and stripping yourself of your coat you turned back to him, 

“I want triple.” 

Your sister was going to be pissed, but she’ll survive once she realizes you were able to get her a new laptop for school. A compromise. 

She cried. 

The Thrombey’s were probably the worst people you’ve ever met in your entire life. Harlan was prideful, pompous. He cared about his family, to an extent. He created them after all, his monsters. 

Linda was okay, but she was a lot like her father. She felt as though she was better than everyone else simply because she ‘built herself from the ground up’ yeah, if the ground was a million dollars gifted from Daddy. Her husband, Richard, was a glorified sugar baby, you were sure at one point he was a real estate broker, but Linda had the business, he just rode on her coattails. 

Walt was a whiny bastard. He was meek. He walked around with a cane and you weren’t sure he even needed it. It could totally be a ploy to try and gain more sympathy from his father. His wife was a drunk, you couldn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t talk to you anyway. You can’t talk if you always have your mouth wrapped around the lip of a martini glass. Their son, Jacob, was a little alt-right shit. Every comment that came out of his mouth was a dig on some less privileged 99% and if you didn’t need this job you’d shove his head in the toilet yourself.

That leads you to Joni and Meg. Joni and Ransom had both been given an allowance every month. That’s the way they were mostly the same. How they differed was that Joni was at least attempting to have some sort of entrepreneur business where she gained some income, but not enough to live the lifestyle she was accustomed to. She had Meg in this expensive ass private school that cost more than your salary a month and Meg found this group of liberal women and now she was becoming the extreme opposite of Jacob. They often bumped heads, with Meg slowly giving in. She always gave in. This was her family and as much as she wanted to fight for the 99% she never actually wanted to be one. 

But it was fine. 

It didn’t really matter. 

You just wanted to go home. 

Ransom hasn’t had an empty hand all day thanks to you. “If I’m ever without a drink,” He said on the way over, “You’re walking home.” So this is where you’re standing, with Marta and Fran, you sipping on a weak mimosa that Marta had compromised on, waiting for the day to be over. 

Ransom’s eyes met yours from across the room, hand raising his glass, the last little mouthful swishing against its side. You sighed and rolled your eyes, turning to grab the decanter behind you, walking over to fill his glass. “So I told him to shove it up his ass,” Linda was telling Harlan a story, “If you think for one moment I would give in to anything less than market price you’re out of your mind.” Please love me, she was saying, please see that I’m the best child you have. Harlan’s eyes were dazed, not looking at hers. Thinking. He was always thinking. 

The only time Ransom didn’t need you was when he disappeared into his Grandfather’s office. Presents were handed out just before, new iphones, apple watches, macbooks, cartier bracelets, rolexes, a couple of little bonus checks to their allowances, the spirit of Christmas was definitely lost on this family. 

It doesn’t matter. 

You had just filled Ransom’s glass before he entered the study and you knew he wouldn’t need you until some kind of argument broke out with his Grandfather and you had to be ready to leave the house at a moment’s notice. 

“How’s it goin’ kid?” Richard always kind of made you uncomfortable. He seemed normal, but you were uncomfortable in a ‘this is a rich older white man who liked to corner you alone’ kind of way. For the most part he’s been harmless. 

One time, this was early on when you first started to tutor Meg, he found you in a similar way. Alone, in the kitchen. This was one of the first times he had met you and he was sure to let you know, “You’ve got a really pretty face, you know that?” Ew. Thanks? He had gotten close, too close. “How’d a pretty girl like you end up as a tutor?” That’s worse. And cheesy. This looked like one of those times, except he’d been drinking since 8 am. 

“I’m fine thanks.” You had been trying to find a minute of peace. There was always someone talking in this house, during ‘debates’ there were usually three or four. This was supposed to be a break. Ransom having been passed off to another wet nurse he could suck off of while you got some rest, and maybe sneak a couple of those expensive chocolate artisanal cookies for good measure. Richard grinned at you, not in the way Ransom would when he was fucking with you, but something more predatory. He was feeling ambitious. 

“I just wanted to give you this,” He slipped an envelope across the counter to you, hand resting on it, waiting for you to take it. As your hand met the envelope, he did the fucking worst thing he could possibly do in this moment, and took your hand. Your heart was racing and you felt wildly uncomfortable. He held your hand, taking a step into your space, body crowding yours against the counter. You stared him down, please just let me go. Please just fucking let me go. “How’s my son treating you?” He asked. What exactly did he think you were doing for his son?

“Fine.” You swallowed harshly. Please just let me go. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, face coming closer to yours. 

“If you ever need anything…” Closer and closer. You wished you could pull back completely, get out of this situation, but the vice grip he currently had on your hand was making it difficult. 

“Y/N.” Your eyes snapped over to the doorway, Ransom. His jaw was clenched, face flushed from what you were sure was an argument with Harlan. “We’re leaving.” Richard turned and smiled at his son, releasing your hand. You quietly slipped the envelope into your jeans pocket, backing yourself away from him, and joining Ransom across the room where his eyes hadn’t yet left his father. It wasn’t until you made it to the front door, grabbing your coat from the coat rack did he stomp his way out of the house, digging his car keys from his pockets. 

“Ransom I don’t think you should be driving-” You started, but he turned to you, eyes wild. This scared you. 

“Get in the car.” He demanded. Fuck, he’s drunk.

“Ransom you’re drunk, you can’t drive right now.” His eyes looked behind you and you turned to look at his family, peeking out through the curtains to watch the show. He quickly grabbed your arm, tugging you to the passenger seat, wrenching the door open and shoving you in, slamming the door behind you to circle around to the drivers side. “Just let me drive.” You pleaded. He slammed his own car door, revving the engine and quickly whipping the car out of the driveway. 

He wasn’t saying anything and Ransom always had something to say. 

“Ransom-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His knuckles were white against the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead as he began gaining speed. 

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

“Slow down!” He was scaring you, these roads were winding and dark, his high beams only did so much and you weren’t sure how many deer you’d be seeing tonight. His foot was heavy on the accelerator. 

75

80

85

“Ransom please!” You cried. His breathing was heavy. His eyes were moving wildly left to right as he moved the wheel to turn.

90

95

100

You were going to die. This was it, this was the end. The car hit the open road, the interstate, and to the left of the on ramp you had just flew through was a cop. Their lights started flashing, red and blue filling the car as Ransom kept accelerating. It wasn’t late at night, probably around nine or so. There were other cars here as Ransom kept gaining speed, swerving in and out of traffic. “You’ve got to pull over!” You yelled at him.

105

110

115

“Ransom for the love of god, fucking stop!” His eyes looked in the rearview, two cops now. It was then he began to slow down, moving over to the side of the road, your heart still racing in your chest. You relax your fingers which you didn’t even realize was gripping Ransom’s bicep in a steel grip. Both of you breathing heavily inside the car. It wasn’t until the cop heavily banged on the window that either of you even moved. 

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.” A bright flashlight in your face as you dug around for his registration and insurance in the glove box. Exiting the car and circling to the trunk as Ransom was handing the four cops bills from his money clip. Why the fuck did Ransom have a money clip full of hundreds? Ransom’s eyes met yours as he stuffed his money clip back in his coat pocket before tossing you the keys which you caught awkwardly. 

“Take me home.” 

You looked over at the cops who were getting back in their squad cars before quietly getting in the driver's seat and shutting the door. Your heart was still pounding and as the adrenaline began wearing off you suddenly grew very tired. 

“Drive.” You didn’t want to hear his voice. You never wanted to see his face again. You never even wanted to hear his name again. 

“You’re the fucking worst.” You could feel yourself crying. That was the most terrifying experience you’ve ever had in your life. 

“Well you’re fucking my father so,” He sunk down in his seat. “I think I have some competition.”

“I’m not fucking your father!” You exclaimed, hand hitting the steering wheel. You hear him scoff from the passenger seat.

“Not today since I walked in on you. Which is funny, you put on this whole show about not wanting to be around my family and what was it all for? A fucking ploy so I didn’t know.” Ransom didn’t fucking know how much of a goddamn idiot he was being right now. 

As the gravel crunched beneath the tires of the beamer, your argument continued. “I’m not fucking your father, I’ve never fucked your father, and I never will fuck your father.” He wasn’t hearing you. 

“Is this why Linda pays you so much?” He scoffed, exiting the car. He looked at you from over the roof and continued, “So you keep Richard out of her bed?” You hadn’t stopped crying. Still half going from fear and the other half from frustration. It was so goddamn cold out that the tears were freezing against your cheeks. 

“Ransom, I am not fucking your father!” You yelled, “The reason she pays me what she does is because the exact fucking thing you’re doing right now.” He rolled his eyes, walking up to the front door of his house, 

“Give me my keys.” 

“No.” You were still standing by the car, keys fisted in your hand. “You’re being a fucking asshole right now.” 

He clenched his fist, slamming it into the front door before turning back to you and yelling, “Give me my fucking keys Y/N.” You both looked at one another for a moment. 

You took a deep breath. “I have nothing to do with your father Ransom. My only job is to wait on you like a fucking servant and that is what I get paid to do. Not be your fucking punching bag when your family turns out to be a bunch of dicks-”

“Give me-”

“I’m not finished!” You screamed. Tears were still streaming heavily down your face and Ransom stood five feet away from you awkwardly letting you continue. “I don’t deserve this Ransom. I really fucking don’t. You literally almost just fucking killed me. So you’re going to say you’re sorry, you’re going to go into your fucking house, you’re going to give me what you promised me for even having to deal with this shit tonight, and you’re going to give me the rest of the week off.” 

It was silent for a moment. The two of you standing in the cold Massachusetts air in silence. Your face was starting to burn and as the silence stretched on you began to doubt everything you just said. Fuck this could cost you the job. The envelope Richard had handed you weighed heavily in your pocket. Hopefully it would be enough to hold you over until you could get back to the temp agency. 

Ransom let out a breath he had been holding, turning fully to you, and walking down the two steps of his porch. You flinched back away from him, looking at his knuckles that were split and bleeding from punching the door. His eyes met yours and he looked like he was debating something. 

“I’m sorry.” His words were soft and whispered, hand coming forward with an open palm, waiting for his keys. You gently gave them back to him. That soft, whispered, ‘I’m sorry’ stunned you. You didn’t expect your yelling to actually work. You expected to be fired. His keys jingled as he reached in his pocket and brought that money clip back out, extracting a bundle of hundreds and holding them out to you between two fingers. “Go home.” 

That was never spoken of again. The thing with Richard in the kitchen, being pulled over on 95, the screaming match that ensued, and nothing was ever said about the solid gold, $6,500 cartier bracelet that was by no doubt wrapped at the store that was waiting for you when you arrived back at work five days later. 

2019

“What did he do?” You were sweating. It was so fucking hot in here, but you were afraid to take off your coat. The fanfare in which the detectives had pulled up to your apartment complex was embarrassing, quickly bringing you down to the police station and shoving you in an interrogation room. 

“What did who do?” The man who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Elliot asked you. Shit. What the fuck did Ransom do? The death of Harlan Thrombey was sudden, right after his birthday just two weeks ago. It was unsettling, the suicide. The funeral was uncomfortable to say the least. Ransom told you to go and then didn’t go himself so you stood there like some weird interloper on the tails of everyone’s grief. 

You were going to throw up, you’ve never so much as gotten a speeding ticket but suddenly you had a kilo of coke on you and an unlicensed gun. “Where were you the night Harlan Thrombey committed suicide?” You picked at your fingernails. 

“I was at the party,” Your throat was so dry, you were afraid to touch the glass of water they had set before you, “I always feel strange around the family so unless Ransom needs me I try to hide out in the kitchen.” 

“You’re his assistant?” Elliot asked, “He doesn’t have a job, so what exactly do you assist with?”

“I’m pretty much his babysitter.” You explained, “I make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble…” It’s ironic right? You bit your bottom lip. “Why am I here exactly?” The other man in the room, Wagner, spoke up, 

“Hugh Drysdale has been arrested in the murder of Harlan Thrombey’s housekeeper.” Elliot gave him a dirty look. 

“Fran’s dead?” The shock was evident on your face. You leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair, discarding your coat and scarf and taking a large mouthful of water. 

“You seemed surprisingly absent from Hugh’s side throughout the aftermath of Harlan’s suicide, why is that?” The third man spoke up from his spot sitting in the corner of the room, the thick southern accent was almost comical. 

“Ransom gave me time off,” You recalled, voice trailing off as you finish your sentence, “He said I could go to my sister’s cello recital…”  Did he really kill her? “Why would he kill Fran?” It made no sense. “I mean, he’s an asshole, but murder?”

They played a recording. Ransom in his own, self-righteous, pompous voice. Fuck me. What a fucking idiot. “So tell us where you were on the dates in question, spare no details.”

You had thought it strange, Ransom had left you stranded at the Thrombey house and you were forced to find your own way back to his house to get your car. It wasn’t at all strange that when you got to his house his car wasn’t there. You’d just assumed he’d gone out. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go out after finding arguments with his family. But the next day when he suggested that you take the week off, spend time with your sister, go to that recital you didn’t know he knew about, you checked his forehead with your wrist.

“Are you sick?” You had asked. He gently pushed your wrist off of his forehead, giving you a terse look. 

“Harlan committed suicide last night, the funeral is tomorrow, but after that you should take some time. I need some time.” Your heart broke a bit. Yeah Ransom and Harlan butt heads all the time, but they were practically the same person so it made sense to you that they would fight. Both prideful assholes. 

“I’m so sorry Ransom.” Should you hug him? You didn’t know. You two didn’t have any physical contact really. You’d never seen him hug anyone. So no, no hugs. “Is there anything I can do for you?” You opted to just gently lay your hand on his wrist. His eyes met yours for a moment, silence. 

“Just come to the funeral.” With that he stood up and walked away. 

That’s why it was so off-putting when the bastard didn’t even show up to the funeral and as you stood there with his sobbing family you figured next time you saw him you were going to spit in his coffee. 

“I haven’t seen him since the day before the funeral.” You admitted to the officers. “He asked me to go, and didn’t even show up.” 

“If we have any other questions we’ll let you know.” And you were released from questioning, but you had so many questions yourself. Arson? Fran? He attempted to murder Marta. Was this worth it? The fucking asshole never had to work for anything in his life, and even now as you stood in the courtroom waiting to see what bail would be set as so you could relay to Linda, you wanted to smack his pretty little face for being such a fucking idiot. 

A bailiff read out the case number and in walked Ransom. You’d never seen him in any outfit that cost less than your rent and here the bastard was, walking in with a black and white striped jumpsuit, the county jail logo stamped in red on the back.  You were the only person that showed up for him. Linda was half waiting for you to text her a dollar amount so she could pay his bail, the other half of her was debating on whether to leave him there or not. At least, that’s what she told you anyway. 

You could only imagine what you looked like to him. Your eyes were puffy and red from just crying in the parking lot for an hour in between getting questioned and coming to his hearing. Before that the detectives had taken you practically from your bed. But you were here, in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, coat pulled over the ratty thing, and snow boots on your feet. It started snowing this morning. 

His eyes caught yours as soon as he entered, but he quickly looked away. It was like a goddamn movie, his wrists cuffed to his waist, a chain leading down to the cuffs around his ankles. 

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

A chill went down your spine, “Bail set at a million dollars.” And a gavel. Cameras clicking behind you. Thirty minutes later you were waiting for his release. You handed a dry cleaning bag with clothes to the officer at the front desk. 

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

It wasn’t long before the secure, thick, metal door behind the metal detectors opened and Ransom was walking through it back to you. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, quickly circling to the desk to get his phone, wallet, and keys back. The garment bag was shoved back in your hands containing the clothes he was wearing when he was arrested, and then he was out the doors of the county jail, speed walking to your car. His was taken in as evidence. 

You used your key fob to unlock the car, Ransom wordlessly climbing in the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him as you settled in the driver’s. This was uncomfortable. You drove in silence for a minute, awkwardly leaning over to turn on the radio. The song only played for a second before Ransom leaned over, smacking the button to turn it off again. 

“Just say it.” He spat out at you. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. 

“Say what, Ransom?” You were scared of him now and he could tell. He breathed harshly through his nose. You could feel his eyes on you. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I did it? Why I did it? Yell at me for being a fucking idiot?” He threw his hands up in frustration. There was a beat of silence more, “Say something.” 

“I don’t know what to say!” You really didn’t. What do you even say? You’ve been cursing him for a while. In your head. Cursing him since you left the interrogation earlier. You didn’t know what any of this meant for your job, if you’ll be able to keep your sister in school, if you’ll be able to even afford the apartment you two live in right now. And all because Ransom wasn’t getting anymore fucking money from his Grandfather the fucking prick. 

“Anything. Fucking say…” He leaned over in his seat, growing close to you. “Are you scared of me?” He smirked. Not in his, I’m playing with you and getting my way, smirk. And not in his, I’m making you weirdly uncomfortable and it really gets me off, smirk. But some sick sinister type of smirk that made your stomach roll. 

“You fucking murdered someone Ransom.” You said between clenched teeth. He studied you for a minute before settling back in his seat. Silence took over until you made it to the front door of his house. Lawyers should be coming by in about an hour to start working on his case, his parents should be here soon as well seeing as they were backing all of this. 

“You think I would hurt you?” Ransom asked as he stripped himself of his coat, purposefully letting it fall to the floor just so you’d have to pick it up. You left it there. He turned to look at you, still in the doorway of his house. “I killed Fran because I had to.” He spat. “It was for the bigger fucking picture. You want to be paid don’t you? You like having money right?”

“Your Mom pays me Ransom.” You stated calmly. His voice was escalating in volume as he continued.

“So fucking what? Who bought you that fucking coat, huh?” He was talking about the expensive wool coat you are currently wearing. He bought it for you after seeing that your old bubble coat had stuffing pouring out of the right pocket. You didn’t ask for it. “Who pays for your fucking phone, huh?” You had a month-by-month plan before. Ransom gifted you and your sister iphones sometime in the spring, saying that he needed to be able to reach you without having every call get dropped due to bad reception. Your sister’s was just because they were buy-one-get-one, or so he said. You didn’t ask for it. “And that fucking bracelet on your wrist too? Is my Mom buying you jewelry? Or just me and my fucking Dad?” He was still under the impression that something had gone on between you and his father apparently. 

“That’s it! I’m done.” You yelled back at him. “I fucking quit.”  You stripped the coat off your shoulders and tossed  it on the floor beside his watching his mouth snap shut. You wiggled the bracelet off your wrist and threw that down on top of it before slipping your phone out of the side pocket of your yoga pants and throwing that on the pile. “I’ll mail Julia’s phone back to you.” You still hadn’t stepped foot inside the house, turning to walk back to your car when Ransom’s thundering footsteps could be heard behind you. 

Fuck he was going to kill you. 

It had continued to snow throughout the morning, the soft white stuff still falling heavily from the sky as you rushed to your car, you had to get away. You didn’t make it far before Ransom’s arms wrapped around your body from behind, tugging you tightly to his chest. You let out a loud scream before he covered your mouth with his hand. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispered quickly into your ear. “Please stop, I’m sorry.” His large body was bent over your back as you were crouched over trying to get him to release you, both of you breathing heavily as you settled against him. “Y/N I’m sorry.” He slowly started walking the two of you back toward the house, “I’m not gonna hurt you!” He shouted as you tried to bite his hand. He uncovered your mouth, arms loosening. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” He repeated a little more calmly. 

He brought you back into the house, shutting the door softly behind him. You wanted to leave, eyes tearing up. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? Ransom stood for a moment with his back against the door before peeling the wet socks off of his feet. You hadn’t realized that he took his shoes off when he originally came in. His feet were bright red from the cold. You glanced to your left at the knife block there, slowly backing away. 

“No, no, no, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sunk down to his knees. He looked like a fucking idiot, face flushed from the cold, kneeling in front of the door. He slowly made his way over to you, not rising from his knees, shuffling forward with his hands open and facing you. Your heart was racing as he stopped at your feet, slowly moving his arms to wrap around your waist, burying his face in your ratty old college sweatshirt. 

He was hugging you. Actually hugging you, on his knees, face turned into your belly. You could have sworn he whispered, “Please don’t go.” But you couldn’t be sure. 

A pot of coffee was made, coats picked up, and floor mopped before the lawyers and his parents arrived. The only evidence of your earlier fight was the absence of the cartier bracelet you refused to put back on. It sat heavily in Ransom’s pants pocket. Their discussion was loud in the living room and no one looked up as you lay the coffee and finger foods on the coffee table, Ransom’s cup unmade for him out of spite. As you turned to make your way back to the kitchen, Richard’s hand shot out to grab you harm, halting your movements, 

“Grab me some Macallan for me, would you sweetheart?” Your eyes flit over to Ransom, who’s jaw twitched, sharing a look with you before looking back to his lawyers and mother. 

This was none of your business, but you needed to know what your future was going to look like. Were you out of a job? If Ransom went to prison there would be no one to babysit. So yeah, you would be. He admitted on tape to arson and murder. Pre-meditated arson was minimum of 10 years, Murder was 30 years. He’s looking at at least 40 years in prison. He would be an old man before he was even allowed parole. 

The group grew silent, or you couldn’t hear them as you started dinner for that evening. You were sure the four of them would be staying. “Y’N, would you come here please?” That was Linda. 

You made your way over to the group, shuffling nervously in your wool socks. “Yes Mrs. Drysdale?” Linda smiled, 

“It’s back to Thrombey now, but that’s another issue.” Hmmm. “If I was willing to pay you…. Say four times what you’re making now, would you take Ransom’s house arrest? That is, if we are able to work the judge down to that.” 

“House arrest?” You looked to Ransom confused, he wasn’t meeting your eyes. “Murder and Arson-”

“The only proof they have is the recording, the only thing they’re going to be able to pin on Mr. Drysdale here would be the attempted murder of the nurse.” A chill went down your spine, 

“You tried to kill Marta too?” You asked Ransom, incredulously. He didn’t respond, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. His lawyers made you uncomfortable, they were definitely sleazy and you knew money could get you far in the justice system. If that recording was 75% of the evidence against Ransom and it was suddenly and accidentally destroyed, they would only have what was actually witnessed. 

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again. 

“I uhm… I have a sister who lives with me, I can’t just-”

“I’m sure there’s someone else who can take care of her. How long would it be for?” She looked to the lawyers, “Two or three years?” This was impossible. You couldn’t. Linda looked back at you. “How about this…” She leaned over and clasped your hands softly. “We will pay for your sister’s school, her housing, everything she needs while you’re doing this for us, and you’ll still get paid what I originally offered.”

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked. 

“Yes ‘if’.” She was selling it hard. Julia could stay with your aunt. She didn’t live far from where the two of you currently reside. The majority of your income went to her school, books, clothes, rent, and groceries. Having all of that taken care of would mean you’d be getting four times your current salary and not having to spend any of it. Just for a couple years. 

“If Ransom gets house arrest,” you looked over at him, his eyes briefly meeting yours, studying you it felt like, “If he does, I will do what you need me to do. But I don’t even know how-” Linda’s hands quickly released yours. 

“We will figure that out when the time comes,” Linda has a shit eating grin on her face, “Write up a contract.” Directed at the lawyers, “Now, how are we going to get our hands on that recording?” That’s it. You were dismissed until they needed you again. 

“Why would you do that?” Ransom asked you. Everyone had left a little bit ago, you were busy washing the dishes, knowing as soon as this task was finished you’d be able to go home and this day from hell would be over. 

“Do what?” There was a piece of cheese melted on the side of the casserole dish that wouldn’t fucking come off. 

“Agree to take my punishment?” You paused in your scrubbing, 

“That’s if they actually settle on house arrest.” You finally unwedged the cheese, rinsing off the casserole dish and placing it in the dishwasher. 

“Hmpf.” Ransom had been cold and distant since he burrowed his head into your belly. Has to make up for his extreme weakness then. “But why?” He asked again.

You turned to him, eyes staring directly into his. You watched him fiddling with the gold bracelet you had taken off earlier, it was in his hand down by his side. “It’s what you said earlier right?” You scoffed, removing the rubber gloves from your hands and throwing them in the sink. You walked closer to him, not breaking eye contact. “Because I need the fucking money.” 

The two of you didn’t talk for the rest of the weekend. Usually there was texting here and there, ‘Where are my grey socks, the ones I usually wear with the navy Ralph Lauren slacks?’ or ‘Next week when you meal prep for my weekend can you make me this?’ with a link to a recipe. ‘Pick me up a pack of magnums on your way in.’ Fuck you. 

You got him regular Trojans. 

Monday was Christmas luckily enough, and you knew you weren’t going in. Ransom didn’t even text you to see where you were. His account was rapidly depleting funds, you checked every once in a while. 

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

The list went on. Multiple spots a day over the weekend. That’s who he was going to be now, the old fucking white dude who sits at a bar all day hitting on girls uncomfortably too young. How many giggling 18 year olds would you kick out crying and screaming the next day? Disgusting.  

“Do you have them?” Them meaning the cookies that were currently at the bottom of your reusable Aldi bag. Your sister, Julia, was off to your right, setting a pot with water on the stove to boil. It was Christmas, just the two of you, and with the aftermath of everything that was going on with the Thrombey/Drysdale clan, you were happy to get some time off to relax. You might even push it so that you wouldn’t have to work tomorrow. We’ll see if Ransom texts you. 

“Of course I do.” This bag has been in your closet all weekend. There’s a bakery near your apartment that your Mom would take you to all the time, every time you got an A, won a game, gotten an award. Everything they made reminded you of her, and it was something you craved more than anything. Every Christmas they would make these fresh baked cookie packs with all kinds, chocolate chip, double chocolate chunk, snicker doodle, gingerbread, white chocolate macadamia, chocolate and peanut butter. 

Every Christmas, after dinner, you and your sister would slouch in front of the TV with scalding hot cups of hot chocolate and devour almost the whole box. Every year except last year when at the time your sister was home alone watching The Grinch you were in a car with Ransom going over a hundred miles an hour and scared for your life. This Christmas, Ransom would not be getting between the two of you, food was cooking, lights in the living room were dimmed. The tree was all lit up and the presents you had exchanged earlier that morning sat unwrapped beneath it. 

Christmas music was playing softly on the tv as you heard someone knock on your front door. 

“Coming!” You yelled. It wasn’t uncommon for a neighbor to have forgotten something, sugar, butter, milk, that they needed for dinner. It wasn’t uncommon for you to answer your door without looking through the peephole. What was uncommon was Ransom Drysdale standing sheepishly on the other side. His cheeks, nose, and eyes were red. The cheeks and nose from the cold, the eyes probably from the alcohol you could smell on him. You sighed heavily, feeling a headache coming on, “What are you doing here?” 

“Bar called me an uber and I didn’t want to go home.” He explained quickly, words slurring slightly. 

“Your parents-”

“Fuck my parents!” He yelled, you quickly shushed him, looking down the halls to see if anyone was peeking out into the hallway. “Fuck my parents.” He said quietly. 

“Ransom…” You sighed, stepping out into the hall, closing the door softly behind you. “What do you want?” His eyes were glazed, he shrugged dumbly, swaying forward. “Okay big guy,” I guess this is happening, “Come on.” You quietly ushered him inside, shutting the door softly behind you. 

“Who is it? Oh, woah.” Julia’s eyes bugged out of her head, shifting over to you. ‘Murderer’ she mouthed. 

“Go set the table.” You ushered Ransom over to the small table that could barely seat the two of you let alone a third, quickly brewing a pot of coffee and keeping an eye on your sister who was scared to get to close to him. “He’s harmless Julia.” You reassured her, or were you reassuring yourself so that you didn’t feel like such a bad guardian, letting a murderer into your home. He was past angry drunk Ransom, which is probably why the bar kicked him out, he was sad Ransom right now. You’d never seen him cry but this was probably the closest you were going to get to it. He was quiet, sat in the chair just staring as you and your sister finished dinner. 

You poured him a cup of coffee and a glass of water, hoping to sober him up enough that you could safely send him home later on. The three of you sat down to eat. Ransom staring listlessly out the window. You made him a plate and told him to eat. And he did. You told him to finish his water. And he did. You told him to finish his coffee. And he did. This was almost terrifying. He hadn’t said anything since ‘fuck my parents’, and he looked dead on his feet. 

“Send him home,” Your sister pleaded. The man hadn’t moved. Cleanup had already started and finished, he was still nursing the third glass of water you’d given him. Cookies were warming in the oven. His eyes were less glassy now. He was slowly sobering up. The large helping of mashed potatoes and three bread rolls he ate didn’t hurt either. 

“He’s my boss, I can’t really kick him out.” You explained, “Let me get him sober enough that I know he’s okay and then he’ll go home.” She rolled her eyes at you, stirring the pot of hot chocolate on the stove, adding more chunks of chocolate to melt. Ransom, still unspeaking, didn’t protest when you moved him into the living room, setting him up in the recliner with his own cup of hot chocolate and three cookies, before snuggling down with your sister and watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You moved only once when he tapped the mug against your arm. 

More.

“I’ve never done anything.” He said. “Never went to college, barely graduated high school.” He was rambling to himself, maybe to you? “I’ve spent the entirety of my adult years inside someone’s cunt.” 

“Alright, Julia. Time for bed.” You ignored her whining protests. The movie wasn’t over yet. “Please?” You begged her. She hated Ransom. You knew this. She knows you know this. ‘All he does is take you from me.’ is what she once said to you. Just to treat you like shit. 

“I have no money.” Ransom’s eyes met yours. “None.” 

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed. 

“I’m no better off than you now.” 

“You still have your house. I’d say you are still better off.” You started cleaning up around him, letting the asshole sit in his self-pity. 

“C’mere.” It was a quiet request. The Grinch was packing up his sleigh in the background. You dropped the two mugs you were holding onto the counter, circling back to the recliner. Ransom’s hand came out soft, wrapping around your forearm and gently guiding you to sit in his lap.

“Ransom, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You tried to pull away, heartbeat beginning to pick up. His still bloodshot eyes raised to meet yours. 

“Please hold me.” Fuck. What were you supposed to do with that? Heart melting you sunk into his lap, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in tight. It was quiet for a while. Sitting with the credits rolling, Ransom’s arms wrapped around your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders. Comforting him from whatever crisis he was currently going through. 

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck. 

“No Ransom, you did.” 

2020

The trial, fuck me, the trial. The whole fucking family showed to watch Ransom crash and burn and get exactly what he deserved. Well that and to stare down Marta Cabrera who sat with the prosecution in some shiny new digs, a stunning gold cartier bracelet on her wrist. That was familiar. Ransom’s cheap bought apology. There was a tension there, you knew. He always had a thing for ‘the help’. You wondered if that’s where he had been this past week. But it’s strange isn’t it? This whole situation. It was unsettling and for some reason you felt irreversibly used.  

“I knew the knife was a prop.” And that was that. Audio recording gone, attempted murder charge whittled down to aggravated assault. A slap on the wrist. Two years of house arrest. And here you were, in Ransom’s home with a fucking house arrest bracelet making your ankle itch. Unfucking believable. Ransom had sat in the courtroom, head raised, armani suit, legs crossed and body relaxed. He knew he was getting out of this from the minute he walked in. 

The Thrombey trial that was supposedly going to last three months only lasted a week. You still had a job, and in a remarkable turn of events Linda Drysdale and their legal team got exactly what they predicted. 

“I’m going out.” Was the first thing Ransom told you as you unpacked your clothes. He had half thought to buy you a bed and a small dresser that he haphazardly got someone to shove between his Pam Anderson Baywatch poster and the unplugged Space Invaders original arcade console. This was a 90s teenage boy’s dream bedroom. And now it was yours. He didn’t give you much time to respond and he was gone. 

They say that you never really know someone until you live with them. And you’ve never felt that saying more true. Ransom was a fucking asshole. 

During your previous employment schedule you would come in at 9 am with breakfast and let him know of anything he needed to do that day, if his Mom needed him for whatever reason, events his was scheduled to go to, dates he promised he’d keep. He’d let you know what to cancel and what he would get ready for, and then you were off. Cleaning and maintaining the home to the best of your ability, binge watching tv shows, trying new recipes from pinterest. 

Ransom was disgusting. 

Clothes discarded all over his floor, bedroom, living room, hallways. Beard trimmings all over the sink and what you would hopefully assume were more beard trimmings lining the bottom of his shower. You really didn’t want to think about Ransom’s pubic hair situation. He would do things like take his coffee mugs into his room or into the study and leave like a sip left in each one, letting it sit there until the milk began to curdle. Wet towels shoved into corners and every morning when you went in to make his bed it was like he was running in his sleep, loose and fitted scrunched in the corner of the foot board, duvet thrown off and pillows with half off shams. 

He was doing this shit on purpose. 

And you hated him for it. 

It wasn’t long after the trial that he began a steady routine. Gym, breakfast, some puttering around the house, making plans and then he would go out. And that’s when we come to this, 

“He said he would be back and we would have breakfast together.” The girl was pretty, but her voice was annoying. 

“I’m one hundred percent sure he did not say that.” You stood with arms crossed in the doorway, watching her fix her face in the mirror propped against his bedroom wall. An old antique thing that didn’t match with the decor of the house at all. 

“Hmpf.” She glared at you, “Fine, when he gets back, we’ll see who is right.” This was before you became practiced at this kind of thing. 

You felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans, 

Is she gone yet? 

Fucking prick. 

“I’ll have him call you when he gets in,” You explained, “He has a lot to do today, I’m sure if he said you’ll go out for breakfast it’ll probably be another day.” 

“I said.” She stepped up to you, “I’m staying.” Fuck. You rolled your eyes and walked past her into the room, 

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

He had been waiting down the street like a psycho, waiting to see her leave so he can come back home, but it’s not really working out in his favor. You could feel her eyes on you as you made the bed and picked his laundry up from the floor, tossing them two feet away into the laundry basket you left in his bathroom in hopes he would actually use it. The socks left discarded beside it was a clear message of disregard, a ‘fuck you’ from a petulant child. 

You could hear the door slam downstairs. Great, you looked at the girl who was scrolling through her phone curled up in the reading chair in the corner of his room, he’s pissed. You could hear his stomping feet climb the stairs and the girl looked up from her phone hopeful towards the door. 

“Alright, time to go.” He huffed, coming into view. The girl stood from the chair, shifting over towards him and trying to wrap her arms around his neck. “Nope. Let’s go, your uber is here.” 

“But, I-” She began, you could see tears welling up in her eyes and you began to feel bad for her. 

You were never one to have one night stands. You had one serious boyfriend when you were in college, but when your Mom got sick you had ended it and moved back home. You hadn’t dated or been with anyone else since. You just didn’t have the time. That being said, this girl honestly thought Ransom had a heart. She was naive and young, younger than you. Your heart hurt for her, but honestly, no one should be with Ransom anyway. 

His birthday dinner had soon come and gone. Linda and Richard sat around the dinner table eating Ransom’s favorite foods you’d spent the day cooking for him. Drinking whiskey and wine, Ransom’s glass never empty. You’d had a few glasses yourself with the tapas style dinner you’d put together. A beautifully iced spice cake sitting on the counter with unlit candles for dessert. 

This was the night that Ransom blew up on you for the last time. The night he cried into your neck, drunk and unstable. Clutching desperately at your body for comfort, burying himself against you all touch starved and needy. This was more intense than last Christmas where his dry eyed stare begged you to hold him in an uncommon moment of weakness. 

He was so hard to read sometimes and you were never quite sure where you stood. You knew you really hated him sometimes, other times… not so much. The more you knew his parents, the more you understood why Ransom was an ungrateful shit to begin with. You almost couldn’t blame him for how he turned out.

Almost. 

“Help me with this.” He stood in the doorway to the small office he never used. It was pretty much just for show. A large wooden ornate desk, his macbook, and a bookshelf full of books you know he probably never read. Including the ones penned by his own Grandfather. 

There were beginnings here. Multi-colored post its lined the desk, laptop left on the seat of one of the chairs in the room. 

“What is this?” You asked him, fingers plucking a post-it from the desk,

Crime of Passion?

He had been watching a lot of true crime documentaries lately. It didn’t help but creep you out. This man, a murderer, suddenly extremely into serial killers and murder itself. 

“I’m going to write a book.” He explained. His face was in a grin, almost giddy. 

“A book.” You looked at him incredulously. Your eyes drifted over to Harlan’s novels sitting stacked on another chair, spines finally cracked and pages thumbed through, sticky tabs stuck throughout the pages. You pointed to them, “A book?”

“Yeah,” He gestured around to the post-its, “What do you think?” It’ll keep him busy that’s for sure. You sighed, sticking the post-it back on the desk and looked at him. He was waiting, expectantly, why did he care what you thought about this?

“Is it gonna be about Fran?” You asked awkwardly, he scoffed,

“No, I’m gonna write books like my Grandfather wrote,” He plucked a post-it from the desk, showing you,

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.” 

He was good. You couldn’t lie about that. And you wouldn’t. This was a strange thing. The routine changed. Gym, breakfast, writing, lunch, writing, dinner, and then he would go out. His mind was moving faster than his fingers could and you were left reading a new chapter or two every night. You’d once loved Harlan’s novels. Your Mother was obsessed with them. It was partially why you had even taken the job tutoring Meg in the first place, but you know what they say. Never meet your heroes. 

Harlan was kind in some ways, funny, but proud. His pride is what eventually killed him you’ve found out. The medicine Ransom had switched wasn’t his cause of death, his refusal for help was. 

Ransom was as good as he was, better even. 

“He’s got a lot of me in him,” Harlan said to you once, “He could have everything I’ve ever had if he would pull his head out of his ass.” 

This was promising. 

You were honestly afraid when Ransom first said he would be writing a novel. What if he wasn’t a good writer? Could you really lie and try to support him even though it was absolute garbage? You supposed you would have to. You were relieved to find out that it was unnecessary. 

He slipped a red pen into your hand when handing you this last chapter, the book almost finished. “I want to see how you react to everything,” He explained, the book was coming to the climax, you were a chapter away from the big reveal and the aftermath, his hands gently massaged your shoulders before he bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you sat on the sofa. “Do you like it?” His hot breath brushed against your ear, a tingle went down your spine. 

“Ransom,” Your hand came up to lay over his forearm, brushing the skin with your thumb, “It’s amazing.” You could almost feel the grin that stretched across his face, he turned, pressing his face into your hair where you could swear he laid a soft kiss before releasing you. 

“Of course it is,” Here we go, “I’m a fucking Thrombey.” His fucking smirk. That's what he left you with, returning to his office to pound out the last two chapters. 

It was a process. The editing, printing, shipping off to multiple publishers. He got replies after a month. 

Eager replies. 

Whatever Ransom wanted, Ransom got. The lucky bastard stayed lucky.

“Look Babe.” Ransom dropped a heavy box on the table in front of you, “Look at this shit.” He grabs a knife from the block on the counter, slipping it under the packing tape to open the box revealing glossy black covers. He first fucking novel. There. Printed. A picture of a fireplace, chair facing it, empty. A blood soaked carpet. He picked one from the box, opening it. And there in the forward, the dedication, Harlan’s name…

...and yours. 

“Don’t get all big headed about it kid.” He smirked. Your heart was racing in your chest. 

“Why would you…” Your fingers gently traced the letters of your name, there in print, as it would be on every copy sold. 

“Wouldn’t have been able to write it without you being chained to my house, only seems fair.” He shrugged. “We can call it even.” You scoffed,

“Dedicating your book to me hardly makes my doing your house arrest for you even Ransom.” He smirked again, flipping through the pages, seeing his words in bold print. 

“I think it’s plenty fair,” Okay, now you wanted to smack him, “You live here for free, you eat here for free, and you get paid pretty well to do so.” His devilish eyes met yours over the top of the book he was still thumbing through. “If anything you’re still ahead because you’re the kept woman of a bestselling author.” 

“A kept woman?” You dropped the book onto the table. “I’m not your fucking whore Ransom.” 

“Not yet.” Audibly you made noise of protest, internally your core thrummed with heat. 

“Never.” You packed up your tablet and the new book, attempting to walk around him to go sit out by the fire pit for a while. His large hand gently grabbed your upper arm, tugging you into his body, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your arms trapped between you.

“Tell me you’re proud of me.” He whispered into your hair, his voice suddenly soft, heartbreaking. 

“I am proud of you Ransom.” You shifted your belongings to your left hand, tugging your right from against his chest to wrap around his torso. “I’m very proud of you.” 

Book published, royalties rolling in, Ransom was making his own money now. He was more cocky than ever. Proud. The, I-don’t-need-you-anymore-mom, attitude. But can you still pay my babysitter? The girls came more easily than ever before, not that they didn’t come easy before the bestseller. 

Every. Night. 

Sometimes two girls were leaving in the morning, gently ushered out the door with promises of a phone call and a, “I’ll let him know.” It made you feel dirty, betraying almost. Like you were supposed to be on these girl’s side instead of cleaning up after Ransom’s mess. 

You could gag. The milky condoms, two of them, tossed haphazardly aside on the hardwood floor of Ransom’s bedroom. Disgusting. You could hear him laughing at you now. 

“It could be you,” He says, “Just say the word.” If you weren’t so irritated with Ransom for this very thing your panties would be dripping with the thought. 

He’s sitting at the kitchen island forking soft scrambled eggs into his mouth, cheesy with peppers and onions, the way he likes them, the way you made them, when you come downstairs. “You could at least throw the condoms in the fucking trash Ransom.” He looked up from his eggs to you, peeling off the latex gloves you’d just used, smirking. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole. 

“You’re disgusting.” You begin on the dishes, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. You hear the stool scoot back against the floor, “That wasn’t an invitation.” You said, hearing his approach. His arms wrapped around your middle as you began to scrub. His head rested on your shoulder. 

“You love me.” He slowly rocked your body side to side, “You love how disgusting I am.” You tried to shrug him off of you, but he held you tighter. Since last Christmas when you curled up in his lap and held him for two hours until he was sober enough to leave you he’d been slowly getting more and more affectionate with you. He was touch starved, hungry for it. The intimacy of holding and being held. 

You didn’t picture Linda as much of a hugger.

The house was decorated. It was the least he could do for you really. This was the first Christmas since your Mother died that you and your sister wouldn’t be completing your tradition, but you tried not to think about it. Ransom humored you just after Thanksgiving, bringing home a fake Christmas tree, ornaments and lights. You’d ordered a couple of extras online and three stockings were on the mantle, Christmas lights lined the windows giving the house a warm glow. 

“I’m sending everyone in my family a copy.” He told you, “a signed copy.” Of his book. Rubbing their noses in it. The book has firmly held the number one spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for weeks. Already over a million copies have been sold. Whether its due to the fame of the not-murder trial or Harlan’s legacy you couldn’t be sure, but even without those things the book was incredibly good. 

Ransom could have made it on his own, a long time ago. 

“You don’t think that’s a little crass?” He released you long enough for you to finish loading the dishwasher, watching you place the pod of soap and shut it like he didn’t realize that’s actually what you’re supposed to do. 

“Fuck them,” He scoffed, “They’ve always hated me.” 

“To be fair,” You turned to the soft sweater clad man leaning against the kitchen island, “You’re an asshole.” 

He smirked, “Yeah, but that’s why I’m so charming.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

It could almost be domestic. The way things were now. So different from before. Yeah Ransom was still bringing a new girl home almost every night and sure you could hear them fuck from your bed on the other side of the wall, but for the most part it was always just the two of you. 

His parents never ventured out here much anymore, since his book was published he had a deadline for the next book that needed to be completed so he wrote almost every day now, sometimes for hours. You made his every meal, on the odd occasion you’d order out. Sometimes when he needed a break he would come sit on the sofa with you as you watched whatever show you were currently obsessed with. One time you walked in on him watching Love Island by himself and you hadn’t let him live it down yet, maybe not ever. 

He grew soft, sweet almost. A kiss against your palm. Hugs from behind as you worked at the stove. A snuggle of feet under his thigh as you watched Miracle on 34th Street by a crackling fire. Wordlessly anticipating each others needs. It spoke to a high level of intimacy. Something you both chose to ignore. 

It was nice. 

He didn’t go out on Christmas Eve. Not only because his usual bar was closing earlier than normal because of the holiday, he assured you, but because he wanted to stay in. Snow was falling thick outside, a foot of it already blanketed on the ground. To tell the truth you didn’t want him to go out in this weather anyway. You knew he was willing to drive a little drunk and he didn’t exactly obey speed limits. It was safer here. 

You were still reeling from the argument you had with your sister earlier in the night. You called her to see what she was doing, but she was at a friends house and wanted nothing to do with you. Since the house arrest you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms. She wasn’t Ransom’s biggest fan and didn’t really understand why you needed to do this. You could kind of blame it on yourself for her having no idea how much money you needed to keep her in school, her cello and lessons weren’t cheap and nor are the electronics she seemed so attached to. This two year sentence you were playing out for Ransom would put you in the green, far in the green, so far in the green that you were willing to put up with all his petty bullshit and be okay with your sister hating you if it meant your futures were secure. 

After all this was over, you might just be able to go back to school. 

“Are you hungry?” You removed your feet from their spot beneath his thigh, grabbing both of your now empty mugs, padding over to the kitchen. Your stomach had just begun to growl. The stew you had simmering on the stove was ready to eat. 

“Yeah,” Ransom replied, not turning away from the television. Santa’s trial had just began. It was a strange thing, having him watch classic Christmas movies, soft in sweats and a comical christmas sweater you jokingly bought him. “I look good in anything.” He said. He wasn’t lying. 

You poured two bowls full, bringing over a plate with some crusty bread he was kind enough to go out and grab for you earlier in the day. “Thank you,” He said softly as he took the bowl from your hands, eyes still not moving from the screen. He quickly spooned some into his mouth, 

“It’s hot.” You said, his only reaction being trying to rapidly cool it in his mouth, his tongue probably burned. He gave you a glare, before resting the bowl on the coffee table. This could almost be a relationship. The two of you together. In this oddly domestic moment. He was the only man in your life right now, it wasn’t like you had many options for seeking others. 

That’s why you would get so hot and bothered with him. And that’s the only reason. 

He had never seen A Miracle on 34th Street before. You’d think with how old fashioned Harlan was he would have at least seen it once or twice, but then again, any time spent together as a family was always strained and argumentative. 

Even when he was a kid though? He was the first grandchild. His mother was the first child of Harlan. You were sure when he was a child he was spoiled rotten, more toys than he could play with, never wanting for anything. But that wasn’t exactly true. The touch starved trust-fund baby didn’t get the one thing kids need the most, more than presents, toys, electronics. Real genuine love. 

His Mother loved him to an extent. It’s why you were the one on house arrest instead of him, but she thought loving him meant giving him whatever he wants. When we all know that’s not what kids want. They want to be told no, given structure, rules. How many times have you gotten into arguments with your sister because you didn’t allow her to go roam the streets at night without supervision or give her money for some stupid thing she wouldn’t be even bothered with in two weeks?

But you could also see how no one really knows how to raise a child and you just try your best. Having Harlan for a Father couldn’t have been easy. 

Under the tree that you’d decorated and in the stockings you’d hung were presents. Ransom had everything he’d ever wanted, but you couldn’t help but want him to have something to open tomorrow morning. Granted it wouldn’t be much, but it’s the thought that counts. In the fridge you already have most of what will go into tomorrow’s dinner made. Hopefully your sister thinks about your extended invitation and Ransom can go pick her up at some point tomorrow. You missed her, a lot. Your heart ached with wishes that she was here right now. 

Ransom’s eyes had gotten shifty. The movie was coming to an end and his bowl was empty. “Did you want more?” You asked him, thinking that would be the cause of his shiftiness, maybe indecisive? 

“No.” He cleared his throat, “I’m not going to be home for dinner tomorrow.” You weren’t sure you heard that properly.

“You’re not going to be home….” You started, picking his bowl up from the coffee table and standing, “For dinner on Christmas?” 

He was scared to tell you, that’s cute. Your body was bristling with anger as you took the stew off the stove to cool before you could properly store it. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch. 

“My Mother wants me to go to this dinner with-” 

“So every other time your Mother wants you to do something it’s ‘fuck you’ and ‘eat shit’, but when we’ve already made plans for tomorrow and my sister-” You felt tears prickle in your eyes. “What the fuck Ransom?” His face was stoic from the couch. 

“Why does it matter?” He asked, “I stayed home tonight!”

“And that makes up for it?” You stood at the kitchen counter, staring across the room at him. “I already started on dinner, Ransom. You couldn’t have maybe said something while I was prepping all of this?” You gestured to the fridge. He shrugged. 

“I didn’t know that was all for tomorrow.” His face still betrayed no expression. 

“She can come here,” You offered, “We can have dinner here.” His eyes shifted away from yours to watch the rolling credits. 

“She doesn’t want to.” He stood from the couch, rounding towards the tree slowly, searching. 

“Why not?” He was being shady about this, the whole situation was strange. “I already have all of this food prepared and I can’t pick up Julia myself… Ransom?” 

“She doesn’t like being around you.” He stated honestly, he picked a box out among the presents under the tree, eyes meeting yours as he fumbled with it. 

“What?” You get it. She’s technically your employer. But she’s never had any issue dropping in for dinner or putting you to work on some task for herself. 

“Listen,” He came closer to where you still stood, your chest tightening. “Y/N, I hate my family-”

“Then why are you going to-”

“I have to do this.” His cheeks were flushed, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My therapist… I don’t want to do this.” He slid the box across the counter top. “I don’t want to go, but I have to.” 

“Is this supposed to make me feel better about it?” You scoffed, picking up the gold wrapped box. His mouth opened and then quickly shut without speaking. You sighed heavily, a headache coming on. “I’ve got nothing, Ransom. All I wanted to do tomorrow was spend some time with my family and if you’re not going to be around…” 

“I know, I can maybe go pick your sister up in the morning?” He offered. Your eyes watery, staring at him. He doesn’t get it. Your heart was aching a bit. 

“You’re such an asshole.” You spat, leaving the present still wrapped in front of you, thumbing the thick wrapping paper. 

“I know.” He swallowed. 

“What does your therapist want you to do?” You never talked about what went on in his therapy sessions. He was too closed off after them, drank too heavily, lashed out too easily. You’d let him slowly work through his refractory period and let him cozy up to you once he was feeling better. 

Ransom felt awkward, you could feel it. He was uncomfortable. 

“Why does this matter so much to you?” He asked. He was turning. He got too emotional. “It doesn’t matter what I have to do or where I have to do it. I said I would go pick Julia up, I’m giving you what you want.” 

“Fine.” You were staring each other down. “I’ll let her know you’ll be there to get her around noon and then you can go have dinner with the people you hate.” He rolled his eyes, 

“I don’t know what you think this is, Y/N.” He scoffed, “You still work for me, we’re not playing house here.” 

“Then stop making me.” You spat back at him, both of you in a similar stance, hands gripping the edge of the stone counter top. 

“I’m not making you do anything.” There was a rage growing in his eyes. 

“You are, Ransom. I take care of you like you’re my own fucking child. I clean up all of your messes, I cook all of your fucking food, I do everything for you.” 

“I don’t ask you to.”

“You don’t have to! You literally just expect it of me.” You yelled. 

“Because it’s your job.” He laughed, throwing his hands into the air. “I have no loyalty to you Y/N. None.” Fine.

Fine.

You hated him. You fucking hated him. You were doing all of this for him. And you’ve never felt more dumb in your life. The house arrest bracelet on your ankle felt heavier than ever. It itches like mad. 

“Fuck you Ransom.” You rounded the counter, moving towards the stairs when he grabbed your arm. 

“Take the gift.” He slapped the box into your hand. 

“I don’t want the fucking gift, Hugh.” He looked taken aback for a moment.

“Don’t call me that.” His hand fell from your arm, stepping closer to you. 

“That’s what you want, right?” You asked, “You want me to do all of these things for you and take care of you and fucking hold you when you need comfort but when I’m fucking trying to make things easier for you, you’re all the sudden ‘I have no loyalty to you.” 

“Wait a fucking minute,” He growled, “I take care of you too. Who the fuck buys all the shit you want on a fucking whim? You’re in the mood for curry, I get you curry. You make a comment about how you really want to decorate for Christmas and who fucking gets you everything you need to do that? You say that you really want to get into fucking knitting and who gets you all the fucking shit you need to fucking knit?” 

“Buying me things doesn’t mean you care about me Ransom.” You shook the box in your hand for emphasis. “All I wanted to know is what your therapist wants you to do tomorrow, you can go have dinner with your Mother. It’s fine. I just wanted you to fucking open up to me.” 

“I am open with you!” He yells, “You know more about me than anyone else in my fucking life, it’s hard for me okay? I can never escape you, you’re always fucking there. I don’t get to fucking-” He placed his hands on his hips, turning from you. He let out a heavy, slow breath. Calming himself down. “I don’t want to go tomorrow, trust me Y/N, I really don’t, but I have to.” His eyes met yours, softer this time. 

You felt like some part of you was being irrational. This dinner might help his growth. Whatever milestone he was reaching with his therapist, this could be really good for him. But you also felt a little selfish, you wanted him here, with you. You felt more like his family than anyone else. Or at least, he felt more like your family and he should be here to spend Christmas with his family. You knew he felt at least somewhat the same, if the gifts addressed to Julia under the tree from him were anything to go by. You wanted him here, but he wasn’t yours. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the tears that were once threatening to spill, now did. “It’s fine.” Your head was pounding. “It’s fine.” 

“I know it’s not,” He said softly. “But we can maybe do presents and lunch before I go,” He gestured towards the tree. “I should be back in time for the Grinch.” You were shaking a bit as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against his body. “I’m sorry baby.” He was so warm, a little sweaty from arguing, but warm. “I’ll make it up to you.” A soft whisper into your hair. 

The little gold box was soon opened, a new rose gold cartier bracelet slipped onto your wrist and Ransom left you and your sister the next day wearing the sweater you had so carefully knit for him. 

2021

Your breath hitched in your throat, back arching, a loud moan breaking from your lungs. How was he so good at this? Ransom’s tongue was at work between your thighs, large hands cradling your hips, burying his face in your moist heat. You were so close to cumming. And he knew it. 

“Oh god,” you moaned, bucking your hips into his face as you rode your orgasm until your body was too sensitive to continue, Ransom moving his attentions to press his lips sloppily against your thighs before making his way up your body. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he lamented as he pressed his lips to your flushed cheeks and panting mouth, parting your thighs fully around his hips to tease your opening with the blunt head of his cock. “So fucking beautiful.” He moaned into your open mouth as he breeches you. 

He felt so fucking good. You’d never get over it, you were sure. Ransom was patient, biding his time. He wasn’t that guy who had to be as deep inside you as possible, chasing his orgasm by stabbing your cervix. Over time he mapped out the location of your g-spot, shifting his hips and cock to brush against the spot with every thrust, working you up and making your eyes roll back in your head. 

Those girls screamed with good reason. Just as you did now. Gushing wet around him as you came for the second time, looking up wantonly into his flushed face, lips swollen from first kissing and then pulling you apart with his tongue. Your fingers curled in his chest hair as he picked up pace, chasing his own release now, your hips lifting off the bed to aid him.

“So fucking good baby,” His eyes screwed shut as he moans, arms trembling, “You fuck me so good baby.” He sat back on his haunches, pulling your hips roughly to his, your sensitive clit grinding against his pubic bone almost bringing you over again as he cums. Hips stuttering into yours as you feel him empty himself into you. 

His head tilted towards the ceiling, eyes dropping to find you, hands still gripping your hips and as much of your ass as he can manage. “I love you.” 

It never gets old. 

He said those words to you ever chance he got. It was as if he was trying to make up for a lifetime without it. Love. 

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

Silent breakfast with your feet in his lap, I love you.

Scratching his back as you peered over his shoulder while he was writing, I love you. 

Feet stuffed under his thigh watching Outlander and drinking hot tea, I love you.

Buried deep inside you, panting mouths a breath apart, bodies flushed and sweaty, sheets damp with cum, I love you.

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” 

It was intense. His love for you.

He tried hard. He didn’t know how it was supposed to work. A real relationship, a real honest to god loving relationship. But he was trying. 

The first few months of the relationship you gained a lot of new jewelry, a new iPad, clothes, shoes. “You don’t have to buy me things to prove that you love me, Ransom.” 

Then came flowers and lots of them. Sometimes just one, sometimes a bouquet. Regardless there were multiple vases that stayed filled throughout the house, always with fresh flowers never given time to fully wilt. 

After that was the touching. Always some sort of physical contact. Whether you were cuddling on the couch or a blink away from sleep with his ankle wrapped around yours, if you were in a room together there was always some sort of contact. 

Your house arrest bracelet was removed, and a gold anklet replaced it. You were free to leave, live on your own. Move out and back into that shitty apartment with your sister, but this was early days in the newfound relationship with Ransom. 

He’d bought you a house. 

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

It was a Victorian. The house. Not at all like his contemporary cube he knew you despised. A rich dark brown with a large porch. Much too big for just you and your sister, so 6 months after the two of you moved in, Ransom sold his house and moved in too. 

Julia was warming up to him. At first she wasn’t a fan. It took a long time, many dinners with Ransom, ‘family outings’, you hoped she could see the way he treated you now. The way he’s kind of always treated you. Her love was easily bought with the new house, her latest generation iPhone and the fact that she now had a monthly allowance. It didn’t stop you from making her get an after school job at the school library though. 

Now with a house of your own, you were doing something you’d always dreamed of. Watching Ransom try to hang Christmas lights. 

“I’ll just pay someone to do it,” He offered, looking skeptically at the boxes you had placed on the dining room table, “I’m not going up there to do it.” 

But there he was, up there doing it while you looked up at him from the bottom of the ladder. “This is the fucking worst.” He exclaimed, taking the light clips and attaching them to the roof. “Why are we doing this?” 

“Because you love me and you want to make me happy.” You laughed. He rolled his eyes, squinting against the sun. 

“I’m not so sure,” He attached a few more clips within reach before steadily climbing down the ladder. “I think you’re trying to kill me.” 

“I’m the beneficiary on your life insurance right?” You jokingly asked as his feet hit the ground. He laughed at your bad joke, 

“I think that’s in pretty poor taste, but…” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Yes.” 

“Julia should be home soon and then we can decorate the tree,” You wrapped your arms around his middle, capturing his lips with your own, “And make some cookies,” You kissed him again, 

“And have a drink.” He smirked against your lips. 

“You have a therapy appointment today,” You walked over to the steps, “You’re not having anything to drink.” He rolled his eyes at you once more, shooing you into the house as he re-positioned the ladder to go back up and finish stringing the lights. 

You had to be proud of him. Court mandated therapy ended when your house arrest did, but he still went every week. At first it was due to a little pushing by you, but eventually he made the appointments on his own. He was getting better. Still a dick, but that was his nature. He wasn’t quick to anger anymore, his emotions took a more level head. And he was now publishing books twice a year. He’s got five books out now, and almost 100 million copies sold. Which is incredible. 

You started back to school, Ransom wanting to start his own publishing company, “I’m paying for you to go to business school as an investment in our future.” He claimed. Once you were done with school your job would be to then help him open his own publishing company where you’d overlook everything. A daunting task, but it was hard not to believe in yourself when Ransom made himself your own personal cheerleader. “You’re brilliant,” He would say, “You’re so smart, you’ve just been dealt a bad hand until now.” 

And now he was stacking that hand to the best of his ability. 

Finals had been last week and you still marveled at the fact that as you poured over your last assignments and studying, Ransom would make you coffee and massage your shoulders whereas you would usually do the same for him as he was finishing a book. 

You’d gone to a couple therapy sessions with him, the first time he’d invited you was strange and you didn’t know what would even be discussed, but as you sat in the session and he was finally completely bare to you, you couldn’t help but feel like it was his idea and not his therapist’s. 

That session changed the dynamic between the two of you for sure. 

After the dam broke, the two of you having sex for the first time and Ransom’s admission of love it wasn’t easy. He was still an asshole and as someone who had never been in a relationship before, this first real relationship, he didn’t really know how to behave. 

You had one session a month together and it was probably one of the best ideas Ransom ever had. 

He was a little sullen when he came home later that night, coming to curl himself around you as you placed the cookies you and Julia had baked earlier into the decorative metal tins you had just bought. 

Sometimes it was like this, sadness. His lips gently pressing themselves against your cheek, his body tightly pressed against yours trying to pull as much comfort as he possibly could. “I don’t want to talk about it,” He whispered softly, “Not yet.” 

“Okay.” You knew what he needed and what he needed was a little bit of time. You offered him a cookie, chocolate and peanut butter, still warm. He took it gently from your fingers, pulling away to go to his study, but not before pulling you into a soft lingering kiss. An apology for what you knew would be a distant night. A ‘I don’t know when I’ll be coming to bed’ night. You were sure you’d have three new chapters to go over in the morning.

You loved the snow. Almost a foot of it had fallen overnight, frosting the windows and giving your home a beautiful Christmas glow. It made your home feel cozy and well slept as you stretched your limbs out, hand coming to run across Ransom’s back. So he did come to bed after all. You rolled over to face him, laying on his belly, arms folded under his pillow facing you. 

God he is beautiful. 

You hated it about him. So handsome. You brushed his fallen hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his scrunched brow. He was letting his beard grow out for the winter. It made him even more attractive, the bastard. 

Julia was just getting up for school, standing in the kitchen in her uniform, eating toast and facetiming a friend. She was in a carpool, this house you lived in, while comfortably distanced from others, was in a neighborhood of other kids that went to her same school. Something you’re sure Ransom took into account when buying this house in the first place. You drove the kids to school on Friday when you didn’t have any classes. Today was a different parent’s turn. 

“Can I take some of these to school?” She asked, picking up a tin of cookies. 

“Yeah, but take the red one.” You popped a k-cup into the keurig. “Those haven’t touched any nuts.” 

“Mila’s Mom said we can go to the mall after school to go get presents for the pollyanna our class is having, is that okay?” She was such a good kid. Getting older now, she was almost ready to learn how to drive, something you’d been dreading, but for whatever reason Ransom was really looking forward to. 

“You have money still?” You asked, preparing a second cup of coffee for the sleeping bear upstairs. 

“I mean,” She smirked, “Unless you want to give me more…?” You rolled your eyes, turning towards your younger sibling. 

“What time will you be home?” The car had just pulled up outside, horn letting out a quick ‘honk’ to let her know they were here. 

Julia shrugged, hugging you, “We might get dinner, but probably no later than 8. I’ll text you.” She shrugged her coat on, opening the front door as you called behind her, 

“Text me when you get to the mall and when you’re on your way home!” 

“Okay!” She yelled back, trudging through the snow to the car.

“Keep your location on!” You could almost feel her roll her eyes at you, 

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

“I love you!” You shouted as she got in the car, slamming the door behind her. Your phone chimed with reply, 

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs. 

He groaned unhappily when you woke him up, but it was quickly soothed by the coffee you’d supplied him with. 

Christmas was quickly approaching. The first Christmas you’d be spending together as a real, honest to god, family. In your own home, ready to begin your own traditions. The house was beautifully decorated and almost always smelled like cookies and a Christmas movie or music was always playing in the background. 

There was a truly sweet moment you’d wanted to commit to memory for the rest of your life. Julia rolling out cookie dough, Christmas music blaring obnoxiously loud and Ransom coming out from his study yelling, 

“I can’t write anything in a house this loud!” Walking over to the sound system and turning it down to a soft ambling. Your sister and you looking at him and laughing, the red faced lumberjack quickly losing steam as he realized he was wearing the hideous Christmas sweater you’d jokingly bought him last year. “It’s the warmest sweater I own.” He claimed. Sure. Sure it is. 

He turned the music back up a little louder, coming to a happy medium. His embarrassment waning as he looked at the two of you in the kitchen. A family that didn’t argue with every other word. People who genuinely loved each other. Something he never knew he wanted or needed. He came over to you, gently clasping your hands before tugging you into his body to ridiculously dance around to Jingle Bell Rock. The three of you peeling with laughter. Was this even real life anymore? With a soft parting kiss and a peak over your sisters shoulder to steal some cookie dough he was reluctantly walking back to his study, coming to join you twenty minutes later after finishing the chapter he’d been working on all day. 

The three of you spent the rest of the night in the living room, watching the cheesy A Christmas Prince series on Netflix and eating what was sure your body weight in popcorn. Cozy with your little family. 

“Do you think she’d like a puppy?” Ransom whispered into your neck one night. 

“Do not.” You were close to sleep, just about to drift off, when his question stirred you awake. 

“I always wanted a puppy when I was a kid.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, fingers gently tugging your nipple. 

“I’ll be the one taking care of it,” You whimpered as his other hand sunk between your thighs, “Do not get her a puppy.” His lips met your shoulder and you turned in his arms, thighs parting as he lightly stroked your clit. 

“You’ll get there.” He pressed his lips against yours, teasing your entrance with his fingers, his now hard cock nudging against your thigh. “You’ll warm up to the idea.” 

“No…” You whined, his fingers beginning to stroke your g-spot, his body coming to lay over yours, his eyes half lidded and lips wet and red came to meet yours as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock. “Fuck.” His fingers laced themselves through yours, pressing your hands against the sheets as he began to rock his hips slowly into yours. 

“You’re so sweet on me baby,” He mouthed against your lips, “So sweet on us.” He moaned. Your hips ground against his with every thrust. This slow love making that was making you gush around him, pussy making obscene sounds with every tilt of his hips, gently brushing the parts of you that make your legs shake. He chest close to yours, the begging in his eyes, 

“You’ll be such a good mother,” His hips met yours a little harder on that one causing you to gasp, pussy clenching around him. “Gonna give me what I want for Christmas?” He asked. He did this sometimes, knowing you were still on birth control and the actual relationship was still relatively new, the two of you had been together for almost a year now, you knew that he’d been toying with the idea of having a baby. You’d talked about it in therapy recently. 

“I love you,” He moaned, his hips build up a little speed as your legs came to wrap high around his waist. “I can’t wait,” He groaned, “So good to me.” His lips capturing yours passionately as his hips stalled, grinding himself against your g-spot, pubic bone rubbing your clit as you found your orgasm, pussy gushing wet dripping down his thighs onto the bed as you moaned into his mouth. 

“You’ll be such a good mother baby, such a good fucking mother.” His hips picked back up in pace, “I’d do anything for you baby. Anything.” He was chasing his release now, thrusting against your sensitive clit making you reel again before releasing your hands and grabbing your thighs, pushing them back high against the bed, just making you take it. You both had to try to be quiet here, your sister on the floor above you, your hand covered your mouth as you tried to muffle the loud obnoxious squealing that came uncontrollably as his hips slapped against your ass in this position. Sweat forming on his brow and head thrown back as he groans through his teeth, feeling him empty his seed deep against your cervix. 

In all the years you’d known him Ransom was never a kid person. He didn’t like small children, but he also didn’t come into contact with them often which is why it was so strange two months ago when he originally brought up the idea. “I think we would make pretty okay parents,” He said, “Better than mine definitely.” It made your heart flutter, thinking of a life with him. Knowing that he was also thinking about a life with you, but it’s just not the right time. 

What wasn’t surprising about any of this was on Christmas morning, after breakfast and the exchanging of handmade sweaters, new books to read, a couple new apple watches, and your sister and you receiving matching earrings, a gorgeous little blue nose pit bull puppy, one that reminded you of your childhood dog was brought out with a little pink bow around its neck. Ransom ignored your glare as he handed the sweet little thing to your sister, who was crying in happiness. 

He would remind you later on that he found you cooing to the sweet little thing only a few minutes after that, the puppy curled up in your arms, licking your fingers in earnest. 

“Don’t you have something else?” Julia asked him. 

“Julia this is plenty,” You scolded, “He’s gotten you enough.” She rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not for me.” She laughed. The little puppy sleeping in her arms and you scratched it behind it’s ears, turning to Ransom who shifted nervously to one knee, a ring box open in his hand. 

“Stop it.” Came out from a very watery smile. He licked his lips, tugging his bottom one between his teeth before starting, 

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.” 

.

.

.

TAGLIST //

@littlechillies @hellizhelusive2 @notbexmader @marvelouspottering @whitequeenasitbgan @Thegraylaway @readermia​ @i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you @princess-evans-addict @perplexed3001 @deidrashouseofpain @hailmary-yramliah​ @sleepycvpid​ @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​ @starlywars​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @rocknbasil​ @imnotelasticheart​ @wannabegonnie @d1sconnect3d​ @heyguyz13 @unimomajo @this-is-serenaa​  @bookish-shristi​ @auroussss​

[poisonous-widow]

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back

A/n: Hello everyone! I am back!

So ya'll remember my last bnha angst called 'Good Enough?'. Well I've re-made it to this beaut right here! I'm hoping this will be a short Fan fiction probably 10 chaps be the max (Hopefully) or even lower is possible \(0w0)/. They won't be adults in this one, still in UA and yes - the angst will be there. My Oc will be the main of this, but Y/n is apart, yes that's right - you guys are in this (Don't worry! You aren't the bad guy.......maybe).

I've also made this because I fell in love with Olivia Rodrigo's songs, the ones that I can relate to especially. And for this as well. I hope you enjoy this and tell me what you think in the end.

- Love you guys!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Crying, fluffy fluff fluff!! 

Additional info: Music videos/audios may be involved (Not in this one) 

Main Characters: Katsuki Bakugou, Amicia Mizuki

Ages: 17-18yrs (Depending on other characters as well and their year)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER ONE - I still love you

~~~~~~~~~~~

We shared many memories. Love...

She’s been humming tunes in her dorm for the past thirty minutes. Cooped up in the corner of her bed, messy blankets, plushies and four pair of legs tangled together. Amicia cackles lightly, long thick lashes kiss her cheeks, lifting her novel she was currently reading - grazing her light forest green hues to her spiky blonde love. Katsuki releases a long deep breath, his head snugged into the thick comfy padding of his girlfriends thighs, rubbing his head further into her when he felt her cackles.

"What are you laughing at..." He grumbled out, a little muffled since he's laying on his side. Squishing his other face cheek.

Amicia giggled. It sounded so calm to his ears, soothing.

"Nothing~" Amicia mused, a smile playing at her lips as she moved her book to one hand, bringing the other down to caress his tuffs of hair. She gently scratched at his scalp with her nails, caressing in long strokes. She heard another long breath release out of him, the weight of katsuki falling onto her thighs.

There was a shift of movement and Amicia moved her hand, allowing Katsuki to roll himself on his back, eye-lids opening to those crimson daring eyes. "Don't lie to me shitty woman..". Amicia pouted, poking his nose in response. "Don't call me that".

"But you are a shitty woman" He smirked, seeing small fumes appear.

"You’re a shitty man then!" Amicia crossed her arms, looking down at her love with pouting lips and a frown that he would never admit was too fucking cute. He rolled again, this time on his stomach. Arms latched themselves around Amicia's waist, causing her to get a small shock. Katsuki looked up at her, crimson meeting green - summer rays swirling the gold speckles secretly hidden within the glimmering emerald.

Katsuki buried himself into her abdomen, kissing her stomach making Amicia yelp. "Katsuki..!" She squeaked in alarm, her hand touching his head with a tenderness he drowned himself in every moment they got like this. He looked up only to quickly kiss her again, grumpily groaning when she tried to push him away - only for the heavy male to halfway lay himself across her soft pudgy body. "What are you.." Amicia rubs his head, confused.

'You are my shitty woman, mine only." He groaned muffly. This made Amicia stop what she was going to do next. That small spark of shock - forming into love. "I love you too Katsuki" She smiled and hugged his laying body lovingly.

It's a cool night outside, but the room felt oddly hot. Warm candle-light fluttered against the tan wallpaper of katsuki's dorm room that scattered around the large shared futon splayed on the ground.

...Want...

Katsuki sat on the futon, arms wrapped around Amicia's waist. She was on top of him, her knees locked on either side as she slightly hoisted herself a bit taller. Their eyes closed in the moment and lips mounding into bliss, Amicia held katsuki's face as he securely held her in his arms. Parting away to breathe, eyes locking together in a mixture of colours and emotions only they seemed to understand without the need of words.

She peppered and nuzzled his face with tenderness, He kissed her neck and bare shoulder with fierceness. Sighs and contentment settled into her as katsuki removed more of her button shirt to nip at the flesh of her neck.

“Hey..!” She jerked away, opening her eyes and looking over to her shoulder where she could see the way his tongue slid across his row of teeth with that heavy smirk. Amicia shook her head, a smirk of her own appearing when she tugged the back roots of his ash-blonde hair into a small fist, causing a low grunt hiss to snake out of his mouth. “You little sh-”  “Don’t ruin the mood my love~” She kissed a finger to his mouth - angered eyes - turning hooded and heavy. 

Katsuki rolled to the side, toppling over Amicia where she laid on her back, he on top this time.”I hate you...” , She giggled at his words, sighed when he kissed her neck and further down a of his warmth. “I hate you so much, you do this to me...” He breathed against her warm honey skin. 

“I love you too...” She smiles with closed crescent eyes. 

The moment stops when his phone-screen turns on. A message, unknown. Who is it from. She goes to read....he pushes her away and takes the phone - but she had seen the name. 

“Get out. GET THE HELL OUT NOW!!” He shoves her out. 

...Hate....

A glass jar went flying across the kitchen of their shared apartment...

It smashes. There’s more screaming. Words flying at each other, next thing there is something more than verbal - physical.

It’s cold again. 

Katsuki thrusts an explosion attack towards Amicia. It’s aggressive and filled with tendency to hurt - a lot. She dodges it, barely. She’s scared but she still fights for her ground. She refuses to cry and be weak to him. “YOU LIAR!! YOU FUCKING LIAR!!” She reaches him, punches him square in the nose. “YOU SAID SHE WAS JUST A FRIEND!”  She wailed, her throat hurts. her head is throbbing. 

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU!?” Amicia clenched where her heart was buried underneath all that flesh, muscle and bone. Tears flooding down like two large blobs of streams.

“I HATE YOU!! I FUCKING HATE YOU AMICIA MIZUKI!!” 

Blood and water stains the floor-boards. 

“If you hate me that much...Then we are over” 

 ...Betrayal...

She’s cold again. 

She felt exposed - naked - even.

Mina hugged her side, the warmth radiating off her pink skin made the honey toned woman comfortable - just a bit - she smiled appreciatively. She was the first to know and your sister Y/n. The other girls who cared enough to visit her dorm in the time of need she really needed them. Then came the boys: Kaminari,sero and deku squad knew first. Then kirishima, he was last because Amicia knew that kirishima was Ka-Bakugou’s best-friend. He hugged her, she cried. 

It’s only been a few days since the break-up. She left their shared apartment and lived with her best-friend. However, the news spread like wild-fire throughout UA - nosy bunches they all are. Amicia hugged her arms as she walked through the long hallways, eyes staring and mouths whispering. 

For the next few days, they all tried to cheer her up:

“Let’s do this, get your mind off things!” 

“You’ll feel better without him, promise” 

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaa! Leeeet’s gooo steeal Mr. Aizawaa’s Beean-Baaag~!”

“Cm’on gurl! Sing for me, i miss that voice of yours” 

“Mizuki-chan...mutter mutter...and then...mutter mutter” 

It was hard. At first. But she managed to smile at least, her heart feeling lighter little by little each day. Amicia could run and chase her friends again. Laugh, cry, cheer, scream. But everyone now and then, she would look over her shoulder to spot any ash-blonde spikes in the distance - none - heart throbbing. She still misses him, the break of a heart still cracking in her chest.

...And the most painful...

Two weeks passed and Amicia feels a little more ‘normal’. Her head is held high, a smile on her face and her walk strides in a soft rhythm. She softens to a stop, green jewels wide as she stares ahead. 

Spiky ash-blonde hair in the distance, baggy clothing and that oh-so-knowing posture spewing ‘dominance’. Crimson eyes, a cold and bored gaze.

Her heart thumps in her chest, her feels for him pulsing at the sight of him. They stare at each other for a long moment. Colours mixing again - like before. She snaps out of when she sees a bob of brown hair, pink chubby cheeks and beautiful big chocolate brown eyes comes closer. 

Katsuki Bakugou.

Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou’s new girlfriend. 

She stops just a few steps behind him, waiting for him to go to her. Bakugou still has his eyes on Amicia. There is a look in her eyes that bakugou can’t seem to read. Same to Amicia. She goes to open her mouth to speak but she purses them and closes her eyelids shut. Sucking in a shaky breath, Amicia straightens her back and lifts her chin, fingers splayed across her heart. She opens her eyes again. 

She smiles, lovingly, softly. It scares Bakugou - just a little - only a little. She mouths something. He turns and leaves with his new girl, through the doors of UA and out of sight. She watched them go - him - go. Her hand drops to her side. Her lip is quivering. She purses it when she hears Y/n call her from behind. 

“Hey! You good lil’ sis?” They look at you, leaning beside you. 

Amicia turns her head, glistening emerald eyes sparkling with sun rays. 

“Yes. Let’s get to class before Mr. Aizawa gives us a detention” 

...Acceptance...

" I still love you "

- Amicia Mizuki

______________________________________

Thank you for reading!

[anissanightyoung]

I'll take care of you | Chan

[PROMPT] You've been hurting yourself, not knowing that your soulmate could feel it.

Soulmate au, angst, angst angst

warning: suicidal reader (if there are more, let me know!)

masterlist (to read more of my crazy)

1,489 words

At this point, you ran out of fucks to give.

You're currently waiting for the next train back home on a platform. Looking at the tracks, you can't help but imagine how it would feel to jump as the train approaches. Before that, you were standing in front of a pedestrian lane, and you were thinking about how it would feel if a car hit you.

Whatever you do, or wherever you are, you ponder about what it would be like if you just decided to end your life. You're tired of everything; you're tired of not being able to manage circumstances and of wishing for your life to get better.

Everyone is supposed to have the one person with whom they are destined to spend their golden years. It was heartbreaking to see your hours run out and the screen go blank. You were not even given the opportunity to meet the person you were meant to love. You didn't even have the opportunity to care about that person in his final hours.

Someone poked your shoulder as you stood on the edge of the platform, thinking hard and waiting for the train. “Feeling adventurous today?” It's an unspoken code between you and Chan, as Chan asked. You have no idea that after your original soulmate died, he formed a soulmate bond with you. His soulmate mark, by coincidence, is him feeling your physical and emotional pain, as well as sensing when you are in danger, which is why, when you are feeling a little too sure about ending your life, he magically appears just before it happens. “Yeah, adventurous today.” Since both of your mothers are best friends, they made sure to keep you and Chan together when you were born. You figured that since you grew up together, he knows how your mind functions and will always save you. That's why you've never doubted his ability to appear at just the right time.

“You know I'll always take care of you right?” You chuckle when you think of what he said; of course, he'll always look after you. If it were up to your mother and his mother, Chan would marry you. “You can't keep doing that, Chan. Not when you haven't met your soulmate.” He sighed, upset at his inability to tell you that you are his soulmate. He wonders whether you can sense the soulmate pull or if you were already too used to his presence to notice. He wanted to tell you so bad, maybe it’ll pull you out of your misery; He’s Chan, after all. You've been together since you were infants until now when you're adults. Maybe you'd like to stay with him for a few more years.

“Until that happens, I’ll be here. I’ll annoy you always.” He pats your cheek, and you give him the most genuine smile you can muster, but he sees right through you. “Could you spend another night? Today is a particularly bad day. I'll tell mom and auntie not to be worried.”

The first time Chan slept beside you, you had punched the wall way too many times that your left hand broke. Your mother cried uncontrollably because she didn't know how to support you or understand your situation. Before she could dial Chan's number, he burst through the door, asking for you. Your mother was quick to notice Chan’s hand was broken too. “Auntie, don’t worry okay? I’ll bring y/n to the hospital and I’ll explain things after.” But he didn't have to; your mother can see Chan's soulmate mark, which is an injury. She can't help but feel sorry for you two. That's just what it is: a terrible mess. To say it's complicated is an understatement. How cruel fate is; pairing you with a dying soulmate. Then pairing Chan with a broken you. How much easier would it have been if you'd been matched with Chan from the start? Your mother can't help but imagine what you'd look like right now if fate had been kinder. After that incident, your mother has allowed Chan to stay at your house for longer periods, even requiring him to leave some of his belongings behind.

“Sure, but I’ll be the one to tell them,” as he reached for your hand, he said, “Don't worry about anything.” You complied; holding his hand has always provided you with security. You clung to his hand until you arrived at your place. Your mother stood on the porch, surprised and frightened to see you two together. The fact that you were unexpectedly seen together meant you were in danger, and Chan arrived just in time to save you.

Chan encouraged you to enter after you had greeted your mother. “Don't worry, I'll be right up,” he said with a reassuring smile. “When are you going to tell her Chan?” your mother asked once you were inside. This may be her last chance to be happy. “Look at her,” she said, her voice shaking, “she's alive, but she doesn't want to be.”

“Auntie, I'll tell her soon. Trust me. It's just a matter of waiting for the right moment.”

You took a quick shower, you’ve never been fond of taking public transportation. With the way you were acting, your mother figured she’d sell your motorbike. No explanations are needed. As you step out of your bathroom, you see Chan by your bed, reading a magazine he found on your nightstand. You approached him and handed him your brush. “Comb my hair, Channie? I always sleep better when you comb my hair.” Chan gladly obliged and urged you to sit in front of him. You closed your eyes and seemed to breathe evenly as he combed your hair. Everything was always better with Chan, and it may be selfish of you, but you're going to hold him to yourself until he finds his soulmate. And maybe when you finally see him with his significant other, you'll feel free to be "adventurous."

“Channie, what’s your progress with your soulmate?”

“Well, I already met her.”

“Really? Wait, will she be fine knowing you’ll sleep here?”

He waited before answering, “You need me more.”

You stopped his hand from combing your hair. “Let’s sleep?”

When Chan took your side, you were both lying down, looking at the ceiling, feeling a slight tension in the air. You don't know why, but you can feel your heart falling apart, so you grabbed his hand even tighter, squeezing it to relieve the pain in your chest.

You wait for Chan to fall asleep. When he did, you went to the bathroom to wash your face. You can feel yourself slipping deeper into the darkness as you stare at the mirror. It’s getting bad again. You splash more water in your face in an attempt to ground yourself. Why do you feel bad now that you know Chan has found his soulmate?

Chan awoke with a throbbing in his knuckles and the sound of shattered glass in the bathroom. Chan dashed to the toilet, where he discovered you reaching for another punch at the mirror. He tried everything he could to stop you, staring at your seemingly distant eyes. “Y/n wake up, wake up!” he yelled as he clutched both sides of your face. You were sobbing uncontrollably as Chan wrapped his arms around you, sensing your pain; he couldn't help but weep with you, his soulmate.

He led you to your room, crouching in front of you until he sensed you were beginning to relax. You say, “I'm sorry,” exhausted from crying. You reach for his hand automatically, shocked that his was bleeding like yours.

“Channie, why is your left hand bleeding?” you exclaimed, staring at his hand, which was covered in bruises, scratches, and dried blood.

Chan can't seem to look at you, as though he doesn't know what to say. This isn't how he planned to break the news to you.

“Chan answer me. Why is your left hand bleeding? You’re right-handed.”

It took a while for Chan to react. “My soulmate marks are injury and being alert when my soulmate is in danger,” he sighed deeply.

That's when it dawned on you.

“Y/n, you're my soulmate.”

“I’m - uhh, your soulmate. Uh, how?”

As Chan explained, you listened intently. You're unsure of how to feel, and you're perplexed that you're experiencing both grief and relief at the same time.

“You don't have to say something y/n, I know you're confused, I feel it,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “Just know that I'll be here until you feel better, no matter how long it takes.” I’ll take care of you, like always.”

You smiled and nodded. You took his hand in yours and caressed it. You’re afraid of what future lies at your second chance in life but you know that this bruised hand will take care of you, like always.

--

Sorry if there are grammatical errors, just needed to get this off my chest rn.

[agathaharknes]

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

[kimvvantae]

puzzle; 6 (m)

➜  you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, unprotected sex (use condoms y’all kids)

rating: 18+

word count: 13k wooohoooooo

A/N: i listened to the same 4 songs over and over again while writing and i think it kind of sets the mood for this chapter so hm if you guys like listening to music while reading here goes a small playlist:

Jungkook - If you (read the lyrics pls)

Whitesnake - Is This Love

BTS - Jamais Vu

Sam Smith - Lay Me Down

enjoy!

➜  Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

“You’re acting weird.”

You finally look up when you hear this, just to see Hoseok frowning at you.

“I’m not.” You’re quick to say, shrugging.

“You’re really acting weird. Is everything okay?” Hoseok insists, crossing his arms.

Hoseok is not what bothers you the most, though, but another pair of eyes watching you like a hawk.

Jimin knows why you’re acting weird. Since that day at Joy’s house, he has been staring at you like this constantly - half judging, half worried. 

It’s very annoying, to be honest.

“I’m just… a little bit stressed.” You admit, shrugging again. Fortunately, Hoseok isn’t as observant as Jimin, so he seems convinced.

“So, what did you guys want?” You ask, changing the topic. They came after you in the cafeteria while you have lunch after all.

“Ah! I almost forgot,” Hoseok starts. “You quit your job at the coffee shop, right?”

“Yes. It was way too stressful and my boss was a bitch.” You huff. 

“So you’ll be free this weekend?” He asks. You nod, but if he’s about to invite you to a party or something, you’re ready to say no. “The thing is, you know that me and Jimin have this job as waiters, right? There’s a wedding this weekend and they’re needing staff. So, if you’re interested, you can come with us on Saturday night. The payment is decent and it’s just easy stuff to do.”

Your mood lightens up at this. “Yeah, sure! I’ll go. I really need money right now.”

Hoseok smiles and claps his hands together. “Alright! I’ll send you all the information later. They’ll give you a uniform, so don’t worry about clothes. I have to go now. Bye!”

He leaves.

Jimin stays.

You just keep eating quietly, Jimin’s heavy gaze on you, until you finally get annoyed.

“Jimin, what do you want?” You cross your arms and glare back.

Jimin slowly quirks one eyebrow. “Won’t you ask me if Jungkook’s going?”

“Why would I ask if he’s going or not?”

“Because you guys aren’t talking anymore.”

“Thank you so much for reminding me of this, Jimin." 

He realised that he went a little too far just by seeing your clenched jaw and the anger in your eyes. Jimin sighs and shrugs. "Anyways, yes, Jungkook is going. But not to work as a waiter, he’ll take pictures instead.”

“So what?" 

Jimin swipes his hand over his face and shakes his head as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. "I think you’re so stupid. Both of you. My fucking God.”

“You know what, Jimin? That’s none of your business.” You finally get up and take the tray rather roughly, walking away without looking back.

Maybe you were a little too rude with Jimin, but he’s being unbearable these days. 

It’s been one month since that day at Joy’s house - one month since you and Jungkook have been avoiding each other like the plague.

And maybe you were a little too rude with him because deep down, you know he’s right.

As usual.

tae: wyd?? 👀👀

you: working

tae: ??? didn’t u quit ur job

you: yea

you: it’s one night thing

you: i need the 💸💸

tae: oh

tae: ok

tae: i’ll ask later then

you: wAIT

you: ask what??????

tae: later

tae: u should work first~

you: but im curious

you: i can’t work if im curious >:(

tae: 🙊

you: tae????

you: taeeeeeeee

you: TAEHYUNG

He doesn’t reply anymore.

You groan, shoving your phone on your back pocket again, and leave the restroom. The guests hadn’t arrived yet since the wedding ceremony is still ongoing, but the kitchen is already a mess: people yelling orders, the delicious scent of good food in the air, cooks cooking (duh) and waiters getting ready. The boss has already given you the last instructions, but it’s not as if working in an event like this is a difficult task: serve the guests, smile, be polite, walk around the hall, try not to break the crystal glasses that cost more than what you can pay.

The hotel is pretty fancy, actually. You were expecting a smaller wedding. Not that this is a problem, of course. The only problem here are the heels that all women are forced to use; it’s not too high, but walking around endlessly the whole night in these will be painful for sure. The rest of the uniform is that standard - black pants, white button shirt, black vest and bow tie, hair tied in a perfect high bun, simple makeup. 

You walk to the hall to make the last adjustments in the decoration. Pretty much everything is in place, so there isn’t much to do. The tables are organized, the floor is pristinely clean, the white flower bouquets are in place. A DJ will be in charge of music tonight.

You stand at the back of the hall, almost hidden, just to check your phone once more; no new texts. Now, you can’t stop thinking about what Taehyung wants to ask. He knows you’d get all curious. You and Taehyung have grown closer these days: late phone calls, endless texts, random memes at random times. You hadn’t gone on a proper date yet, though - and you don’t think you want to.

Taehyung is a nice guy and a good friend, but you don’t want to take things to the next level - even though this seems to be Taehyung’s intention since the beginning. He has been insisting in you for quite a long time now meanwhile all you do is keep a certain distance. You didn’t really give him any real hopes yet and you’re afraid that Taehyung might be reading your actions in the wrong way. Truth be told, it’ll be so shitty of you to keep his hopes high when you won’t go anywhere with this.

Your feelings are all messed up. 

Because you shouldn’t even be feeling anything in the first place.

Ironically, you’ve never been friends with benefits with anyone before. You did have some fuck buddies in the past, though - but you were never friends with any of them. You never got involved with any of your actual friends. Sure, there was that night when drunk-you and drunk-Jimin made out at a party (you don’t talk about it), but at that time, you had just joined college and neither you nor Jungkook were close to Jimin yet, so it doesn’t really count. Also, you and Jimin never had sex - you just kissed, nothing more.

But of course dumb you had to be friends with benefits with your best fucking friend. Of course you had to destroy your friendship like that. Everyone knows that sex is a friendship destroyer. Everyone!

One month without Jungkook felt like being in the desert without rain. You have good friends, but none of them are that special person that’s somehow able to read you mind and understand you even if you don’t say anything. None of them know the type of meme you’d laugh at, none of them sent you random snaps at random times of the day. Worst of all - you didn’t watch Endgame together, when you’ve been watching every Marvel film together ever since you both started obsessing over heroes years ago. Every. Single. Marvel. Film.

You didn’t get to see Jungkook crying during the last scenes of Endgame. Jimin didn’t say if he cried or not, but you know he cried.

That’s devastating.

Truth be told, you don’t even miss sex. Sure, you and Jungkook are the perfect match in bed, and you caught yourself masturbating at night wishing it were Jungkook’s fingers inside of you instead (touching yourself has never been so depressing), but what you actually miss to the point it hurts your chest are the small, familiar things. The comfortable silence. The funny banter. Going to Burger King together late at night after a party or when none of you want to cook. Showing each other funny videos or discussing about the latest chapter of the manga you’re both reading. Jungkook ignoring your texts for hours because he’s too focused on playing Overwatch. You even miss the way he never lets you eat the last slice of pizza, goddammit.

You simply miss him.

What leads you to another thought - something that has been growing stronger in your mind.

After days of self denial, you finally admitted that you were jealous of Jungkook and Joy.

There’s no other explanation for the way you acted that day at her house. You were mad that she was touching him and getting too close. That’s weird. You’ve never really been the jealous type. You never minded when people tried to flirt with Jungkook.

You’re not jealous of friends.

Even so, you had a jealousy attack and didn’t rest until Jungkook’s attention was yours again.

Being totally honest with yourself, you’ve been jealous of Joy ever since you found out she was interested in him.

…what the fuck?

Something inside of you have changed, and only now you’re brave enough to admit. Somewhere along the road, you stopped seeing Jungkook as just a friend. He’s currently in that blurry and confusing level - not only a friend, but at the same time, not more than a friend. You don’t know what the fuck he is anymore.

More importantly… do you want to be more than friends?

If you and Jungkook make up, will you be able to go back to what it was - just friends?

Or are you just being possessive? Did you start seeing him in a different way just because you realized you’re about to lose him?

You don’t know the answer to none of those questions. What you know at the moment is that being away from him fucking hurts. You have the same friends, go to the same places, study at the same university, but barely see each other anymore. What’s that thing people say? You just start valuing things after you lose them.

Jimin asked you not to play with Jungkook’s feelings. What he doesn’t know, though, is that you’re so confused about yours that you don’t have time to play with his feelings.

When you realize the guests are about to come, you force your brain to focus on your current task. You stand back with the rest of the waiters as, slowly, the elegant guests get into the hall, sitting at their respective tables, and soon the place is filled with conversation, laughter and music. 

After everyone took their places, the main couple finally come.

The lights change. The DJ plays a special song. Guests stand up and applaud when they enter the hall, smiling, and walk to the center to have their first dance as a married couple.

You could have noticed how the bride’s dress was beautiful. You could have noticed how her front teeth was dirty with lipstick and how the groom tried to discreetly tell her about this. You could have even noticed how one of the kids was starting to have a tantrum and his mother half-screamed, half-whispered, if you don’t be quiet you’ll be grounded for one month!

But you don’t notice any of that, because the photographer enters the hall right after the couple does.

Your heart flutters in a funny way.

Jungkook is wearing a suit (you don’t even remember the last time you saw him in a suit); black and simple, but it fits him so well. He isn’t much different from all the other man, except for his long hair - his black hair is so long he can probably tie it now - and his ear piercings. He holds his camera to eye level, capturing every moment he can from the couple’s first dance, a backpack with other tools hanging from his shoulder. 

Everyone else is focusing on the couple - but you can’t look at anything else but him.

He looks so handsome and focused and hot and-

Hey, you’re here to work!, you remind yourself angrily, shaking your head and walking back to the kitchen.

Drink after drink, tray after tray - you and the other waiters and waitresses walk around the hall to serve the guests. It’s not a difficult work, but still tiring nevertheless. It’s also hard to balance yourself and the trays with these high heels. Soon, you’re immersed in the work and momentarily forget about everything else, although (unconsciously) you try to avoid being seen by a specific someone.

Time passes by and the party goes on. Parents make heartfelt speeches, everyone cries. The DJ plays popular songs and soon the dancefloor is full. Alcohol already starts to get into their heads. Men are either speaking and laughing too loud or crying, hugging the groom. Women already forgot their high heels and their elegance, twerking shamelessly and screaming. Kids do the usual - run, yell, fall and cry - and they almost throw you on the ground twice. Someone spills champagne on the floor; you rush to clean it before someone ends up slipping. There’s the eventual noise of glass breaking. A certain dude has asked for your help far too much and you start to avoid him, noticing that he’s staring at your ass. Another guest pukes and is taken to the infirmary. As usual, you hear old women complaining about the food, how the decoration is ugly, how one waiter was rude, how the DJ doesn’t play the songs they want-

“The photographer is so hot! What’s his name?!” You hear someone giggling.

You gulp.

Jungkook is just doing his job, but that boy can’t go unnoticed, not even when he tries. You don’t know if he saw you yet, and honestly, you hope he didn’t.

Just do your job. Just do your job.

The night goes on. Your left foot hurts and you need to pee, but gladly most of the guests have already left - the groom and bride left first and the party went on without them -, the hall is almost empty, which means it’s almost ending. Now, you busy yourself with cleaning the hall.

“Man, I’m dead,” Hoseok groans, stretching his back. You nod, putting some empty glasses on a tray to take them back to the kitchen.

“Now imagine bearing it all in heels,” you say, not being able to keep your nice posture anymore. Not that there are many guests anyway - most are too drunk or sleeping on the tables. The DJ is still diligently playing, though. 

“The night was productive after all,” Jimin chirps happily, approaching you two with a smug  grin on his lips. You see he’s holding a small paper between his fingers… someone’s phone number.

“Son of a bitch,” you say under your breath. Jimin just shrugs and smirks. Much obviously, you apologized for your rudeness before you came. The fact that he forgave you so easily made everything worse, honestly. Jimin is a nice guy with his friends (way too nice for his own good sometimes) and it just shows how he doesn’t deserve to be treated in a rude way.

“I’m just taking the chances life gives me!” He chirps again, making you roll your eyes.

“Anyways, what’s wrong with Jungkook?” Hoseok wonders, crossing his arms and frowning. “He didn’t come over the entire night. Is he avoiding us?”

You gulp.

Instantly, your eyes travel to where he stands in the nearly-empty dance floor. He smiles politely to some women that stand around him. Everyone’s obviously too drunk and they’re probably talking nonsense.

He’s avoiding me, you realize sadly. 

“He’s working, Hoseok. His job won’t end if the guests keep asking for pictures.” Jimin is quick to say, what indeed makes sense, but Jimin also knows very well why he has been keeping his distance. Hoseok is the only one that doesn’t notice the strange tension in the air.

When you notice you’ve been staring for an embarrassing long time, you immediately shift your gaze to the dirty plates in front of you, organizing them in a pile to take them to the kitchen. You came here to work. That’s it. Focus-

An excited scream tears the air.

“I loooove this song!” One of the girls on the dance floor scream, the one that has been clinging on Jungkook ever since the crowd started to dissipate. Much obviously tipsy, her eyes were glued on him the entire night (not that you’ve been noticing the people checking him out. Of course not). “Jungkookie, dance with me!”

You almost gasp.

Jungkookie?!

That’s when you finally notice the face Jungkook is making - and you try your best not to laugh.

He has that look that means oh my fucking God someone please take me out of this situation.

The two boys by your side don’t try to hide the laughter as well as you, watching the desperate Jungkook try to turn her offer down - an awkward smile, eyes shifting from her, a muttered apology (I still have some work to do…) but the thirsty girl is surprisingly insistent (you can stop for a little bit, come on!).

“I feel sorry for him,” Hoseok almost chokes as he tries to stop his giggles. You kind of feel sorry, too. He can’t be rude to a customer, otherwise he’d be punched by her relatives - not that Jungkook would be rude anyway. He steps back, scratches the back of his neck. The girl is almost climbing him. He looks around desperately, trying to find a way to escape-

“Why don’t you help him, Y/N?” Jimin says sweetly.

You side eye the sugar-coated snake you call friend. “Jimin.” Is all you say in a warning manner.

Someone that doesn’t understand the situation wouldn’t think anything weird, because you’re actually used to save Jungkook from crazy girls. The thing is, sometimes he’s too nice to turn girls down - and yes, girls do chase him. When he’s not interested in them, you’d usually understand the situation and run on his rescue, most times pretending to be his girlfriend so the girls would stop bothering him. It’s something funny and you’d always laugh your asses off right after.

Not now.

You definitely don’t want to laugh now.

Jimin is being far from innocent. He just wants to push you two into each other. He may have good intentions, but he’s not considering the fact that you don’t feel ready to face Jungkook - not when your feelings are so messed up. This ain’t happening.

“Yeah, Y/N. Jungkook looks pretty desperate,” Hoseok remarks, again, oblivious to the tension lingering in the air.

“Jungkook can handle himself very well. He doesn’t need my help.” Even though Jimin feels your menacing glare and sees your jaw clench, this boy is very brave and insists:

“Come on, Y/N! It won’t hurt.” He says innocently.

Yes, it will hurt. It already hurts, dumbass.

“Did you guys forget that we’re here to work? I don’t want to be reprimanded.”

“The hall is near empty. There’s literally nothing to do anymore.” Hoseok doesn’t understand why you’re glaring at him now.

You’re trying to control your nerves, but it’s getting hard not to feel your stomach jump in a weird way and your fingertips tremble. Just the idea of approaching him makes you weak, and not in a good way. Why these people can’t just leave you alone?!

“Do you think that avoiding him forever will work?” Jimin hisses on your ear, low enough so only you can listen, finally showing how pissed he really is.

What he says gets you.

Avoiding each other isn’t working, you know this very well. You remember the way you used to deal with things in the past - talking. Sure, you won’t be able to really talk right now, but at least you’ll have a chance to approach him.

You don’t want to. You really don’t. But at the same time, you want to. You miss Jungkook. 

Besides, he can’t run away from you in this situation.

You take a deep breath and gulp, trying to ease the tension. Come on. I know Jungkook. He’s the same bastard I’ve known my whole life. Stop being a pussy. I’m not a pussy!

“Just to make clear,” you whisper back to Jimin. “I fucking hate you.”

“You love me.” You wish you could rip that triumphant smirk off his face.

You walk over to the dance floor.

The few couples dance slowly and intimately. Because of course it had to be a slow dance. Of course it had to be a romantic song. Haha. Of course. The Universe must be playing some trick on you. 

Jungkook managed to run away from the girl, trying to hide in the corner of the hall, and she’s searching for him like a hawk. You wonder if she’s this drunk or if she’s just stupid. A guy literally running away from you isn’t already a message enough?

You walk quickly to where he stands, and the moment Jungkook turns around and lays his eyes on you, shock covers his features.

“Y/N-?”

“Quick, dance with me,” you say hurriedly, placing his hands on your waist. “She’s coming.”

Instead of questioning, Jungkook immediately starts to play along as you place your own hands on his shoulders. You discreetly watch when the girl finally finds you.

She stops on her tracks.

“She saw us?” He asks without looking back.

“Yes.”

“And?”

You see fire in her eyes.

“If she had a gun, she’d probably shoot me.” The girl looks outraged that you stole her chance to grind on him. “Oh, she’s turning away.”

Jungkook sighs in relief. “Thanks God. She’s been bothering me all night!” You can’t help but giggle.

For a millisecond, it feels like nothing has changed.

But then you look at each other for the first time.

It might be dramatic, but you almost feel that the temperature drops around you.

Oh shit.

You avoid each other’s gazes at the same time. It feels so tremendously awkward to be in front of him again - especially when you’re slow dancing in the dim light of the hall, almost hidden. It feels uncomfortably intimate. Especially because you’re both keeping a distance that normal couples wouldn’t. You probably look like a weird couple at a prom party that were forced to dance together.

It feels foreign.

The way you touch each other doesn’t feel right. You have touched each other in the most intimate and obscene ways, yet the simple touch of his hands on your waist doesn’t feel right. Despite this, you feel your blood boiling with a strange type of excitement; you missed him so damn much. Even in this uncomfortable situation, you can’t help but feel a little bit happy. You didn’t know you’ve been craving for his touch so much up until now.

What’s weird is that you don’t even feel like this in a sexual way. You’re not aroused. Considering how your relationship became strictly sexual these past months, your lack of arousal to be around him is weird.

The butterflies in your stomach and the way your hands are shaking a little bit is also weird.

For some moments, you just sway from side to side in an overwhelming silence. You have no choice but to listen intently to the song being played. As if you already don’t feel fucked up enough, you’re forced to listen to a love song - an 80s love song on top of that. Of course it has to be Is This Love by Whitesnake. Of course. Haha.

“Uhm… thanks.” Jungkook finally breaks the silence. His voice lacks confidence. He probably never talked to you like this.

“Just helping out a friend,” you say and instant regret smashes you. You don’t know if he’s still your friend. 

Jungkook looks scarily annoyed for a second. “A friend. Sure.”

Is it inappropriate to notice how he looks handsome when he clenches his jaw?

Honestly, has Jungkook always been this handsome?

Sure, he has always been like this. Maybe not seeing him in a long time made you feel this way. His hair has grown a lot. He looks extra fine in this suit. Every man looks better in a suit, but Jungkook looks like a deity. 

The butterflies in your stomach are going crazy.

You did miss him a lot. 

The silence makes you pay attention to the song again.

Wasted days and sleepless nights

But I can’t wait to see you again…

Hah, I know how it feels, you think - what makes you widen your eyes, shocked with your own thoughts. No. You won’t suddenly relate to a cliche 80s love song. 

Right?

“H-How’s school going?” You stutter. Are you trying to do small talk? For real?

“It’s doing fine,” he simply says. Oh fuck. Not good. He sounds so uninterested in your weak attempt at engaging a conversation it hurts. You came here to try and talk about what really matters, but you don’t feel ready to do it yet. Can’t he understand it?!

It looks like your presence bothers him, honestly.

That’s new.

Wow. Your heart suddenly feels clenched.

Awkward.

Why am I feeling this way?

A heavy silence weighs on you again. This isn’t going as planned - not that you planned anything in the first place. You’re going through a lot of weird sensations now.

Why is that?

You look at Jungkook timidly (timid and Jungkook are two words that used to not make any sense together in the past), but he doesn’t look back. You avoid his gaze again.

Being hit by a truck would hurt less.

What’s happening?

Why are you so damn confused?

When the song hits its chorus, you start to think the Universe is definitely playing with you. The deep voice of the singer floats in the air:

Is this love 

That I’m feeling?

Is this the love

That I’ve been searching for?

Fuck you, Whitesnake. 

For real. 

Fuck. You.

“Did Taehyung ask you?”

This brings you back to reality in an instant.

“What?” You look at him, confused. Why is he talking about Taehyung of all people out of nowhere?

You’ve always been very good at reading Jungkook, but right now, he’s unreadable.

“So he didn’t.” He says blatantly, devoid of any emotion. “I thought he would have already.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He talked to me about a double date.” Jungkook replies, looking back at you for the first time - again, a blank face. “You and him, me and Joy.”

Your blood honestly feels like frost.

It’s like you lost the ability to move or talk for a moment. You blink and gulp, trying to keep composed.

“What? Why?”

“Because he said it’d be fun. And less awkward, since I’m not very close to Joy yet and you’re not very close to him.”

Again, you don’t say anything for long seconds.

“But we’d just be cockblocking each other during the whole date,” you say.

“I know. I think the idea of a double date sounds weird, too. It’s not as if we don’t know them.”

You remember what Taehyung texted you earlier today; he said he’d ask something later. Is he going to ask you out?

He thinks that, since you and Jungkook are best friends, you could ease the tension and even help each other out.

This is so fucked up.

The immediate answer that comes to your mind is no. You don’t want to go on a date with Taehyung when you’re not interested in him. It’d be cruel; you don’t want to keep his hopes high. 

But as you’re about to say it, you stop.

What if Jungkook wants to go?

All this time, you’ve only been considering your feelings. Your confusion, your wishes - it’s always about you. You don’t know if you want to be just Jungkook’s friend, but you don’t know if he wants to be more than a friend - or if he wants to be your friend at all. The fuck buddies thing started because you asked. Not even once did you think about him.

Is this what Jimin meant when he asked you to not play with Jungkook’s feelings?

How selfish you’ve been acting all this time?

What if he’s been developing feelings for Joy and now decided to try something? He’s probably feeling hurt because you’ve not been acting like a good friend. You’re always putting yourself first.

That’s why you hear yourself asking:

“Do you want to go?”

It’s scary how every tiny little piece of you wishes he’ll say no.

But Jungkook tilts his head and says:

“Yes. I know it sounds weird, but we can part ways as soon as we get there.”

And this is the moment you feel as cold as you’ve never felt in your life.

It’s as if your ears got obstructed for a moment, because you can’t hear anything but your heartbeat. You can’t even see properly for a second. Yet, you ignore all that, gulp and nod.

It’s time to be a good friend for once.

It’s time to put Jungkook’s wishes first - even though it crushes your heart.

“Okay.” You say quietly.

You’re coming to the conclusion that you’re a walking disaster.

You’ve never been so nervous before a date in your life - but this is not the usual type of nervousness, when people are excited to meet their crush and impress them etc etc. You’re nervous because you don’t want to go. You thought of coming up with a thousand excuses (from the classical “I’m sick :(” to “Seulgi’s sick I gotta take care of her :(” to “my cat’s sick :(” but then you remembered you don’t have a cat to “I’m being chased by the police and I gotta leave the country :(”), but in the end, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie.

Not when Taehyung sounded so painfully happy when you said you’d go.

That’s why you should have said no: Taehyung doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good person and he will certainly get hurt when you tell him you’re not interested. Who cares about Jungkook? That fucker can go on a date by himself, he’s not a kid anymore.

But…

There’s something very tiny and mean inside of you called jealousy that didn’t let you simply text an honest apology to Taehyung.

And now it’s too late, because he’s standing at your door.

Handsome as always, Taehyung wears casual clothes: it’s almost as if he didn’t put much thought on it, but he still looks drop dead gorgeous on his black baggy pants, white shirt and black beret (no other man in this planet can manage to not look stupid in a beret other than Taehyung). As usual, your brain malfunctions as it tries to process his beauty.

He has a small, beautiful smile on his lips.

Shit.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and he sounds like he means it. You did put some effort on your clothes, makeup and hair after all. Being complimented by him feels nice.

Shit.

“Thanks. You too, but that’s just your usual self,” you say thoughtlessly and instant regret slaps your face again. Yes, bitch. Flirt with him. Make things more difficult.

Taehyung looks shy for a moment. The sight is endearing.

S. H. I. T.

“You’re just being nice to me.” He tilts his head. “So, let’s go?" 

It’s too late to go back now, so you have no choice but to take his arm and show your most plastic smile. "Yeah.”

You’re definitely a walking disaster.

You two arrive in the park first and, instead of just showing your tickets and getting in, you’re forced to wait for the bastard and his hot date.

An amusement park of all places.

Not that you hate amusement parks, it’s pretty much the opposite. It’s just that everything feels so wrong. Especially how Taehyung is making a lot of effort to keep the conversation alive while you wait. It’s not hard to talk to him, though, because he’s an interesting person, but seeing his efforts hurts.

What hurts more is the sight of Jungkook and Joy arriving with locked arms.

You hope Taehyung didn’t notice you holding your breath.

Joy looks hot as always, but you don’t even look at her (yes, it’s not nice to be mad at someone that didn’t do anything wrong), eyes glued on Jungkook instead. Just like Taehyung, it seems that he didn’t put much thought on his clothes, only their styles are completely different: Jungkook wears an oversized grey t-shirt, black pants and sneakers. It might seem simple, but he can manage to look good in anything. Joy surely didn’t mind his choice of clothes.

You lock gazes for one second and proceed to avoid it.

The four of you greet. It’s hard to act natural, but you try to; you don’t want the two others to notice the weird tension between you and the black-haired bastard. Joy looks happy, too.

…

Shit.

Soon, you get into the amusement park. As expected, it’s crowded with kids, families and couples. The weather feels nice this afternoon.

“It’s been a long time since I don’t come to an amusement park,” you confess. 

“Really? Then this was a good choice. I was worried if it’d be too cheesy…” he also confesses sheepishly.

“It’s not!” You reassure him. Joy agrees with you. Jungkook keeps silent. “I just have some traumatizing memories about amusement parks.”

Taehyung quirks one eyebrow. “What?”

You sigh.

You and Jungkook end up saying in unison:

“5th grade.”

You look at each other and avoid your gazes again.

“What? What happened on 5th grade?” Joy asks excitedly.

“Our school came to an amusement park that year,” Jungkook explains.

“Why was it traumatizing?” Taehyung still seems confused.

“Because… well…” you hesitate to say.

“Because she was so short back then that they didn’t let her go on the rollercoasters. And she cried the whole trip,” Jungkook suddenly says.

You glare at him.

He has a playful smirk on his lips.

“Oh, so what about you?” You can’t help but smile, too.

“What happened to him?” Joy asks.

“He laughed at me because I couldn’t ride, but he puked his lunch after he went on the coaster and spent half of the trip in the infirmary,” you reveal. 

“You’re still bitter that you stayed with me in the infirmary?” He inquires.

“Of course I am! Also, you puked on my shoes!”

“I already apologized. Besides, I paid you banana milk for two entire weeks. Isn’t it enough?”

“It isn’t!”

“Are you saying that banana milk isn’t enough?!” He gasps. “You psycho.”

You both giggle.

Again, for one moment, it feels that everything is back to normal. You feel comfortable having these old memories, as if you never stopped being best friends, as if you have the intimacy to play like this again.

But it’s only for one moment.

You avoid gazes. It feels so out of place. 

At least the sadness in Jungkook’s eyes shows that he feels the same about this all.

Before the tension between you two can become too strong, you change the topic and engage both Taehyung and Joy in the conversation - during that moment, you two forgot about them. As wrong as it is, Taehyung is your date for the night. He’s the one you should pay attention to.

So you try to completely ignore Jungkook’s existence for a while.

You only look at Taehyung and don’t even touch your phone. You answer his questions and ask things about him. It doesn’t feel like a punishment, though, because he is an interesting person and you genuinely enjoy his company.

But you can’t help but look at Jungkook from time to time.

You can’t help but notice his smiley-eyes as he looks at her.  You can’t help but see their closure.

You can’t help but feel your heart clenching.

And then, you see yourself locking your arm with Taehyung’s.

“What’s that?” You say excitedly. “I wanna see it!”

You drag Taehyung away from the other couple until they disappear in the crowd. Only then you remember how to breathe again.

Considering all the odds, this going better than you expected.

You tried your best to completely erase Jungkook’s and Joy’s existence from your mind, and at some point it finally worked. Taehyung is a funny guy to be around. There’s something very particular and endearing about his personality that captivates you; he’s obviously trying to impress you, but he’s still being very honest. He has some type of innocence that makes you realize that this guy is seriously one of a kind. You can’t think of a single sign that he might be a bad person.

You’re genuinely enjoy this.

But not in the way Taehyung expects you to be enjoying it. 

As wrong as it is, you unconsciously end up comparing him to Jungkook. 

If Jungkook was your date, the first thing you’d both want to do is try all the rollercoasters and the wildest rides in this park. But Taehyung is scared of heights. You didn’t want to make the boy vomit his own stomach, so you ended up avoiding it - even though you really wanted to go on that orange coaster that looks high as fuck.

Taehyung didn’t really get your jokes. The fact that he still laughed politely is cute, but still - Jungkook and you have the same sense of humor. You two like the same stupid type of meme. It felt strange when you had to explain more than once a certain joke so Taehyung could understand. 

Taehyung didn’t know your favorite ice cream flavor or your favorite soda. He doesn’t know the kind of movie you like, nor your favorite series, nor your favorite singers. You know you’re being stupid - the whole point of going on a date is to get to know each other, but every now and then you end up remembering how Jungkook knows every dumb detail about you…

What makes you realize that, as much as Taehyung is an amazing guy, you are too different from each other. 

What also makes you realize that, maybe… you don’t really want to get to know anyone else.

And suddenly, an image starts to build in your mind - an image you try very hard to erase, but it’s already too strong to be forgotten.

Instead of Taehyung, you arm is locked with Jungkook’s. You’re both laughing and having fun, just like things used to be. Only now you’re not just friends. 

It’s the first time in all these years that you see yourself dating Jungkook clearly. Painfully clearly.

The cotton candy you’re eating suddenly tastes like iron on your tongue. You feel your throat tightening. All of this became painful. The fact that you’re trying so hard to forget Jungkook for a few minutes, yet he’s everything you can think of. The fact that he’s in the same park as you having a date with another girl - said girl that is a friend, by the way, someone you encouraged to be with Jungkook, and now you’re hating her existence even though she did nothing wrong, all because of jealousy. There’s also the fact that Jungkook is much obviously avoiding you.

And the most painful fact of all-

“Are you okay, YN?” Taehyung asks, the smile vanishing from his lips the moment he sees your expression. 

The fact that this incredible person likes you much more than you expected. It’s obvious now that you look at his eyes. He really likes you - a funny, smart and special guy, someone that didn’t check his phone not even once ever since this date started, someone that has been trying his hardest to make sure you’re having fun, a guy that is usually very confident, but at the moment looks very uneasy around you.

He’s the perfect guy. He wasn’t disrespectful, wasn’t trying to get into your pants, treated you very well. You went on dates that were far worse than this. There was nothing wrong with him. You’re also sure he’d be a loving and caring boyfriend.

But all you can think of is Jungkook. 

And even though you knew this date wouldn’t work, you still accepted to come anyway. You kept Taehyung’s hopes high. Just because you were jealous.

You’re definitely the worst person on this planet.

But this has to end before Taehyung gets more hurt.

“I’m not feeling very well,” you hear yourself saying. Worry covers Taehyung’s features. “What’s the problem? Was it something you ate? Do you want to go to the infirmary?”

Damn. It hurts to see him like this.

“No. Can you… can you just take me home, please?” You ask sheepishly. 

If Taehyung feels disappointed, he doesn’t let you see; he just nods instead. “Okay. Let’s go.”

And this is how you managed to destroy a perfectly fine night.

You still try not to think of Jungkook and Joy on your way back home; you don’t want to know if they’re still in the park or if they went somewhere else. The idea of what they must be doing makes your stomach twirl in a bad way. It feels like a weight installed itself on your shoulders. Everything seems too oppressive and suffocating. You can’t wait to be alone and peaceful to process all of these feelings. Fortunately, Seulgi isn’t home - she went to sleep at a friend’s house to finish a project. 

For the first time, being with Taehyung feels awkward as you walk to the front door of your apartment. You can see he isn’t exactly glad. It makes everything worse.

You stop in front of the door and you turn around to face him. Everything you have to say must be said now.

“I’m so sorry, Taehyung.” You say in an embarrassed tone, scratching the back of your neck. “I ruined everything.”

“What? No!” He’s quick to reassure. God, his eyes are beautiful… “It’s not your fault. People feel ill, that’s normal.”

You gulp. Oh Gosh. He believed what you said. This is getting worse and worse… “I had a lot of fun today. Really.” You sigh and tilt your head tiredly. “Honestly, it was the most fun I had in a long time…”

“I had a lot of fun, too.” His smile is able to melt any frozen heart. “I noticed that you had a lot in mind, so I’m glad I was able to distract you at least a little.”

It gets you off guard. 

He’s way more observant than you expected.

“You noticed…?” You gulp, even more embarrassed. He nods. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s fine. Everyone has a bad day every now and then. I just have to admit that I’m kind of worried about you.”

You stare at each other in silence for a while.

“Are you?” Why suddenly all you can do is make stupid questions?

Taehyung tilts his head. “Yes. You’re always such a bright person. Seeing you being quiet these days makes me sad.” First of all: did people start to realize that there’s something wrong with you? Are you acting this weird?

Second of all: that was adorable. He’s so honest about his feelings.

“To be honest, Taehyung… I’m not really a bright person,” you end up confessing in a quiet, weak voice. You don’t know why you’re saying this. You were supposed to push him away, not pull him closer. “I think I’m just used to pretend I am.”

“You don’t have to,” your eyes widen when you feel his fingertips brushing on your cheek as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine when you’re not. To suppress this type of feeling… it hurts. Believe me, I know.” For a moment, you feel your breath hitch. The skin where  his fingers touched feels warm. He’s mesmerizing. His voice sounds like a sweet melody on your ears: deep, silky. “So, if you ever feel like opening up… I’m here, okay?” He widens his eyes for a second. “I-I mean- you can open up to Seulgi or Jungkook or Jimin, sure… anyone.”

This moment of shyness coming from him makes you giggle. “I don’t feel like opening up to anyone right now,” especially not to you, you think. “but thank you, Tae. It… it makes me really happy. I’m glad I went on this date with you.”

You shouldn’t have said that.

You shouldn’t have called him Tae.

Even though you’re saying the truth and there’s no second intentions hidden, Taehyung hears something else. 

His hand is still resting on your cheek.

And he says nothing.

He just… stares right into your eyes.

You can’t move.

You clearly see when his face starts coming closer and closer to yours, slowly but surely. You see his heavy-lidded eyes, his clouded gaze, his parted lips. You feel the thick tension in the air around you - the electricity. 

That’s when you should have pushed him away.

But you can’t.

Instead, you unconsciously close your eyes. You feel his lips ghosting over yours for a second - until his lips finally touch yours.

The kiss is suave - gentle and delicate. He doesn’t move his lips at first, merely pressing his against yours. Your body warms up in a way you haven’t felt in a long time; not because of arousal. It’s the pure excitement of being kissed.

Maybe that’s why you let him kiss you. You had forgotten how it feels like to be touched without any sexual intention. Kisses are too intimate, so you and Jungkook didn’t really kiss that often - and when you did kiss, it was always heated and obscene, tongues entangling wildly until both of you could barely breathe. It’s been a long time since someone kissed and held you like this: with gentleness and care. Taehyung isn’t treating you like a sex toy.

You melt.

Your lips part as he deepens the kiss; he is undemanding, careful and delicate. His lips taste like lip balm. No one is fighting for control, no one is desperate. It’s slow and synchronized. It’s sweet and innocent. Most importantly - it’s way different than you ever expected it to be. You never thought he’d kiss like this.

When Taehyung pulls away, the purest smile adorns his features.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I should have asked permission.”

“It’s okay.” And it really is. You shouldn’t, but you liked it. 

“I'll… I’ll get going.” He says, the smile never disappearing. His eyes are also smiling. He stands there awkwardly in an adorable manner. “Can I text you later?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Good night. And thank you again.”

Taehyung grins. “Good night.”

Before leaving, he presses his lips on yours quickly one last time. 

You watch until he disappears inside the elevator, entering the apartment and standing there alone in the dark for a few seconds.

Then you unceremoniously slam your forehead against the wooden door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You hiss between gritted teeth. “What have you done?!”

You were supposed to push him away. You should have told him the truth - that you don’t have feelings for him, that you’re confused and almost certainly in love with another guy. Instead, you just stood there and let him kiss you. You not only kept his hopes high, you increased them.

How will you get yourself out of this situation now?!

You throw yourself on the couch, grab a cushion and scream into it. I’m the worst of the worst. I’m a walking catastrophe. 

For a long time, you just lay there and torture yourself with bad thoughts. Taehyung is the nicest guy you’ve met in a really long time. If you gave him the opportunity months ago, you’re sure you’d be dating right now - and the idea isn’t even unpleasant. He’s hot and smart and funny and sweet. It’s even hard to believe that someone like him is interested in you.

But…

No. Don’t think about him.

You want to punch yourself and scream and eat tons of ice cream and cry - all at once. You’re the queen of taking bad decisions. You’re the heart crusher and friendship destroyer-

There’s someone knocking on the front door.

You sit up in a jump and frown. Is it Seulgi? Did she forget her keys?

You walk slowly around the living room, defeated as if you’ve just came home from war, your hair a mess and shoulders shrinking. You turn the doorknob and open it-

And gasp.

Because standing at your front door is the person you least expected to see.

Jungkook is casually leaning on the door frame as if his presence didn’t make you burst a lung. He looks down, eyes avoiding yours; although the hallway is considerably dark, you can see his expression well. You know him too well. You see sadness and guilt and fear in his eyes.

Your heart beats so fast that you’re afraid it’ll stop suddenly. Nervousness crawls over your skin and makes your stomach feel cold.

“J-Jungkook? What are you doing here?” You’re brave enough to stutter. You completely forgot that Jungkook used to come over so often that you gave him full permission to enter and leave the building whenever he wanted.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he lifts his left hand and shows you what he’s carrying: a plastic bag full with a pack of…

Banana milk.

“I think we really need to talk.” He says quietly, his eyes meeting yours for the first time.

You inhale sharply.

He’s right. You need to talk.

The cold night breeze makes you tighten your coat around your body. Yours and Jungkook’s hairs sway softly with the wind. You can hear the sounds of the city from up here, in the empty terrace - cars, sirens, voices. A glowing map of endless streets and buildings extends itself in front of your eyes.

You’re both leaning on the railing side by side. You’re hyper aware of the distance between you - both physical and… spiritual. You’ve been standing here in silence for quite some time now, quietly drinking the banana milk he brought, and none of you were able to engage a conversation. The tension is heavy. It overwhelms your whole being. Nervousness makes your nerves tense. You can’t even look at him.

Dozens of questions float around your mind; what is he doing here? Why did he decide to come in the first place? What happened to his date? It’s still very early, he could have stayed with her much longer…

You also can’t help but feel helplessly excited that he is here. With you. Not with Joy. He took the initiative to meet you. 

You can’t lose this opportunity.

“It’s kinda cold.” Is the first thing you say. It doesn’t even sound like you.

“Yeah.” He agrees, and he also doesn’t sound like him.

The awkwardness is almost solid right now. Things used to be so different… you can’t remember one moment in the past when such an uncomfortable feeling lingered between you. 

“Hm…” you cough. “What, hm… what about you and Joy?”

Why the fuck are you asking this?, you yell at yourself.

Jungkook looks down and shakes his head. “Let’s not talk about Joy or Taehyung right now, okay?”

You shrug. “I’m just trying to start a conversation.”

“That’s not how you do it.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to do it anymore.”

Jungkook goes silent with this, the quick aggressiveness disappearing as soon as it came. He gulps and looks down at the banana milk between his fingers again. 

More silence.

“Can I… can I ask you something?” Jungkook says after a long while. His voice is quiet, hesitant, almost being carried away with the wind.

“What?” You feel your body heating up in anticipation. 

He finally looks up to you, and in the moment your eyes meet, you have this weird feeling that everything except him looks blurred.

“Why did you start dating Mike?” He asks. “I warned you about him. I mean, you used to listen to me in the past.”

Oh.

Certainly not the type of question you were expecting.

What a mood killer, Jungkook.

You avoid his gaze again, trying to hide your disappointment. “Why are you asking me this now?”

“I just really want to know.” He takes one more sip of the banana milk.

A sigh escapes through your lips and you stare at the shiny city ahead. You didn’t think you’d have to bring up memories of Mike. It’s been a long time, but it still hurts to remember him.

“I… I just…” you start, trying to organize your thoughts. “You know that Mike had like a… bad relationship with his parents, right?” Jungkook nods. “Mike opened up about this to me. I saw how much it hurt him. He was lonely, broken. And I…” this is being way harder than you expected. You shrug, shake your head. “I don’t know. I was just being my stupid self. I thought I could… I wanted to fix him. I realized that I have this heroine complex, you know?” You side eye him sheepishly. “But there are a lot of things I can’t fix… I’m better at breaking things, not fixing them.”

“Don’t say that. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help people.” The confidence in which Jungkook says this makes, yet again, an odd sensation set in your stomach. 

It is probably the first time Jungkook managed to make you blush in your entire life.

A little more silence.

“Did you actually like him?” You can barely hear his voice.

You have no idea why he’s making this questions. Why is he bringing up Mike after so long?

“Well… yes.” You can’t lie right now. “I did.” You make sure to reinforce the did. It’s in the past.

Jungkook nods and says nothing. He takes another banana milk from the plastic bag and opens it.

You inhale, building up your courage to ask something you’ve been wanting to know for a long time. He touched this subject anyway.

“You asked me something, now it’s my turn to ask you something.” Jungkook nods. You have the feeling that he already knows what’s coming. “Why did you break up with Yeri?”

“She broke up with me.”

Oh.

“Why?” You repeat. You can see that Jungkook gets clearly uncomfortable, but you’re not letting him go without an answer - and he already knows how stubborn you can be, too. He shifts, tilts his head, exhales heavily.

“It just didn’t work out.”

“But you liked her. And she liked you, too.” It was pretty obvious to anyone that saw them together. 

Jungkook takes a long while to speak again. “I did like her. A lot.” The way his voice sounds fragile surprises you. Seeing him like this is very rare. Jungkook isn’t one to get all emotional too often. It seems that confessing this to you is important to him, somehow.

It also scares you a tiny bit. What if Jungkook still likes her, just like you suspected in the past?

“I didn’t want things to end the way they did.” He continues. His eyes are far away, watching old memories. His shoulders seem tense. He fiddles with the small banana milk bottle between his fingers. “But… some things aren’t meant to be, it doesn’t matter how much you want them to.”

This answer sounds… way too vague. Not what you want to hear. You know there’s more behind their break up, but just by looking at Jungkook you see that he isn’t telling you anything else. Well, this is the most he ever said about his past relationship in almost one year. It’s better than nothing.

And back to silence.

You want to push this awkwardness away. But how? You don’t feel as close to Jungkook as you always were. It’s not as if you could simply say anything in this moment… especially because, somehow, you feel that Jungkook expects you to do something, even though he came all the way to your apartment just to talk.

Say something, goddamnit!

“I’m sorry.” you blurt out.

Jungkook looks at you, but you’re not strong enough to look back at him. You hold the tiny bottle so tightly that it might get smashed at any moment; that’s just how nervous you are.

“Sorry for what?” he asks quietly. You hear the expectation in his voice… almost as if he’s holding his breath.

You can’t help but gulp. I’m not good with this type of thing. 

“For everything.” you hate the way your voice sounds so damn fragile. Being sincere like this is somehow… painful. But that’s what Jungkook expects of you: sincerity. So you keep talking, although you don’t know the right words to express yourself. “I… I don’t know why things got like this between us…” you almost gasp. “I mean, I know why. We know why. And I feel very responsible.”

“You have this habit of taking the blame to yourself, isn’t it?” He murmurs. Jungkook shakes his head softly and passes his hand on his hair.

“But I was the one to propose it in the first place.”

“And I agreed.”

“Okay, but…” you have to stop for a moment to recover your breath. “I don’t know, I just feel sorry. I didn’t think of anyone except me all along. I’ve been an awful person to you… and awful friend. Also…” you need to stop again. Why is it so hard to speak? It feels as if there’s something obstructing your throat; the words hardly come out. “What I did that day at Joy’s house… it was wrong. I’m sorry that I made you upset that day.”

Jungkook sighs heavily. You’re still scared to look at him. 

“I’m sorry about that day, too. I was rude to you.” Is he apologizing for calling you a slut while you had sex in the bathroom? Well, you definitely didn’t care about that. “I feel sorry too, Y/N. The way we drifted apart from each other…” he gesticulates with his finger between you and him. “The fault is on us both. I already told you, you shouldn’t take all the responsibility to yourself. We were both stupid.”

“Very stupid.” you both chuckle. You feel your heart lightening up for a moment; that strong tension still hovers around you, but now it feels like a different type of tension. Seeing that tiny smile in Jungkook’s lips makes your heart race. 

You finally look at each other.

The shadows of the night paint Jungkook’s face. His hair sways with the wind softly. His dark eyes shine as much as diamonds. You never really understood the expression “to get lost in someone’s eyes…” 

Well… now you do.

The small moment you two share feels fragile… featherlight. You’re scared that if you say or do something wrong, it’ll break and disappear. You’re scared to break him. To break yourself. This makes you remember that, ever since you were kids, Jungkook has always been the most fragile of you two. He has always been the most sensitive, the one to get hurt easily. Jimin was right all along. How could you do this to him? Why did you let this happen between you two? 

“I missed you.” your voice is barely a whisper. Admitting this makes you feel exposed and relieved at the same time. Your throat feels even tighter.

“I missed you, too.” he confesses. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

You smile at each other.

That’s the moment you almost confess something more… your confused feelings for him. You feel the urge to say that you don’t see him as just a friend anymore; that you don’t want to be just a friend anymore.

But something holds you back.

This is maybe the moment when you’re finally being able to reconcile. You don’t know if Jungkook feels the same about you; you don’t want to push him away by throwing your feelings over him. This might destroy you friendship forever.

Then, you decide to keep it all to yourself. At least for now.

“So,” Jungkook says, sighing. “What about that group project?”

You quirk one eyebrow up. “I’m pretty sure you know about the group project.”

Jungkook giggles. “Jimin has been annoying you, too?” you nod. He shakes his head. “He’s a little shit, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He had good intentions, at least.” You shrug. 

“He could be a little more subtle, though.” You can’t help but agree. “Congratulations for getting the highest grade.”

“Thank you. Jimin also told me that you’ve been talking to some important people…”

Jungkook smiles beautifully with this. “Yes. It’s a director. He said that he likes my work and that I have talent. I think he’ll invite me to work with him as a trainee for a while.” Your eyes widen in a surprised expression.

“Really?! That’s great, Kook!” It feels so nice to call him Kook again after so long. Slowly, you feel that unbearable tension vanishing and all that’s left is you and him. Two people that know each other better than you know yourselves for most of your lives. In a matter of seconds, the distance that put you apart for months seems to disappear. 

Suddenly, you feel a cold drizzle start falling over your heads. Jungkook frowns. “I think we should get down there.”

“Yes.” Before you can think better, you blurt out: “You can sleep here if you want.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have said that, because Jungkook’s frown deepens as he stares at you with suspicion. A shiver of fear runs down your spine. “Hey, that’s not what I mean.” You’re quick to say, waving your hands. “Before this sex thing started there was just us, remember? I… I miss us.”

Jungkook thinks for some moments, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Then, a tiny smile makes its way to his lips - and you’re happy to see that the smile reaches his eyes, too. “Okay.”

“Wait- so Irene and Jennie made up?” Jungkook asks from the kitchen, surprised.

“That’s what it looks like. I mean, they did post some photos together on Instagram.” you say while adjusting the pillows and blankets on the mattress you placed in the living room. Yours’ and Seulgi’s friends come to sleep over a lot, so you’re used to do it - you even bought some spare sheets and blankets for this occasion. 

“But you can’t be sure that they are together just because of some photos.”

“Yeah, but you know Seulgi. She jumped to conclusions. Being honest, they don’t look like a couple in these photos… but I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will change her mind at this point. I tried everything.”

“I don’t really think that they’ll make up this time.” Jungkook admits. You walk over to the kitchen and lean on the counter, opposite to him.

“I feel bad for her. Seulgi still loves Irene and she can’t get over it. I think it’s the first time she spends the night out in a long while… and it isn’t even to have fun. I’m worried.”

He pouts and shrugs, eyes focused in building up his sandwich. “Maybe we should just let her figure things out by herself.”

“But she’s doing nothing.”

Jungkook stops adding ketchup just to stare at you and quirk his eyebrows. “Y/N. I think I already said that you should stop trying to be a cupid, like… a million times.”

“I didn’t say I’d do something!” You do your best to sound offended. 

“I know you, woman. I’ve seen this face many times. You look like an evil gremlin.” 

“I don’t!” you cross your arms. You forgot how annoying it is that Jungkook knows you so well, because you did think of doing something to help her. You’re so tired of seeing you friend being sad all the time. All she does these days is watch Netflix and complain. She already started to look like a zombie at this point. No one can blame you for being concerned. “Besides, gremlins are cute.”

“You’re the only person on this planet that thinks this.” He shakes his head slightly, his hair waving in the process.

“Why did you let your hair grow so much?” You ask, resting your chin over your palm. 

“Because I look good with long hair.” Jungkook shrugs, a smug smirk on his face. 

“You cocky little shit.”

“Am I wrong for telling the truth?” He looks up at you again, playful. You can’t even tell he’s wrong: that long hair really matches his looks and personality. 

“Hey, are you still helping Namjoon and Yoongi?” you ask when Jungkook starts to make a fourth sandwich. Yes, you guys do eat a lot.

“Yeah. I haven’t been to the studio in a few days, but they still call me whenever they need me.” Jungkook presses his lips together and shifts a little: nervousness. “I… I kind of helped them write a song.”

“Really? But you said you were just ‘lending’ them your voice to record demos.” 

“Yeah, but I felt kind of inspired. It was just for fun, though.” He shifts his eyes to you then back to the sandwich very rapidly. “Maybe I’ll let you listen to it any other day.”

“Aw, come on! I’ve been wanting to listen to your songs for so long!” you whine.

“I said maybe. When the right time comes.”

You don’t really get what he means with it.

For a while, you just sit there and watch Jungkook. He looks so carefree and relaxed; he moves around the kitchen as if it’s his own house. He knows where everything is in the cabinets. In a way, this really is his second house considering how often he comes… even when he used to come just to fuck during these past months. It feels so nice to see him not being all tensed up and uncomfortable around you anymore. He even starts to sing quietly, his voice as sweet and smooth as cotton candy filling up the entire house.  You’re one of the few people that Jungkook feels confident enough to sing around. It’s almost a privilege.

You have been staring at him unceremoniously for so long that Jungkook frowns and looks back at you, frowning. “What?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “It’s just that… Namjoon is right. You could’ve been famous with this voice.” Jungkook smiles shyly. “And this face.” He turns around to open the fridge. “And this ass.”

He frowns. “Seriously?”

“What? I’m being honest. And don’t act like you don’t stare at my ass all the time.”

Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head in that way that means I can’t stand you.

“Done.” He claps his hands together. Four giant sandwiches, coke, popcorn and m&ms (let’s say that you and Seulgi don’t have exactly the healthier type of food at home). 

“Okay. I’ll take these, get changed first if you want,” you say while taking the plates to the living room. Of course there would be some of his clothes at your place.

When Jungkook sees the clothes you chose, he stares at you with an outraged expression. “My grey hoodie!”

“…yes.”

“You said you didn’t know where it was!”

You stop and click your tongue. “…funny how I found it at the bottom of my drawer tonight, huh?”

He knows you’re lying. But you won’t tell him that slept wearing his hoodie some nights because it smelled like him. He doesn’t need to know this.

“Hoodie thief.” He says and taps your head jokingly, making his way to the bathroom. You’re wearing sleeping clothes as well - and you made sure to choose your ugliest and largest ones. You don’t want Jungkook to think you asked him to sleep here just to end up having sex. 

He comes back and throws himself on the mattress by your side. You’re very aware of the immense space between you; another person could fit in here. “What are we going to watch?”

“I think I’ve watched the entire Netflix catalogue at this point because of Seulgi.” you admit, shoving popcorn inside your mouth. Jungkook takes your phone and scrolls down the Netflix page. 

“There’s always something more to watch.”

You end up arguing about what movie to watch. Actually, you spend more time arguing and scrolling down through the Netflix endless catalogue than watching something. 

You don’t touch each other not even once. The physical distance almost feels like a living being.

You end up giving up on Netflix and watching Avengers Endgame for the hundredth time anyway.

And yes - Jungkook cries at the ending of the film.

You wake up with the sunlight touching your face.

It’s awful. You close your eyes tightly and yawn, a little bit confused at first. What am I doing in the living room? You search for your phone to check the hour: it’s seven in the morning. Shit. Whenever you can sleep until late hours, you end up waking up early…

You turn your head to the side and freeze.

It’s Jungkook.

Now you remember everything. The TV is still on, which means both of you fell asleep while watching it. The empty plates and glasses are placed over the coffee table. 

You never slept together before.

There was only one time when it happened - the first and only, when you two got wasted and the whole story started. Other than that, you never slept together. First, because you had more interesting things to do other than sleep. Second, because sleeping together feels way too intimate. It didn’t matter how tired you were after fucking, when you finished cleaning up, you’d both put your clothes back on and walk back to your respective homes. You vehemently avoided doing anything that might feel too intimate - kissing, sleeping together… after a while, you even avoided looking at each other right in the eye while having sex. 

You’re not touching; there is still a great space between your bodies. Yet… just the thought that you slept with Jungkook makes your heart race.

You don’t move a single centimeter. You just lay there and… look at him.

His long hair is a mess. His face is adorably puffy, lips slightly parted. He looks peaceful. The way his chest moves up and down as he breathes is hypnotizing. 

He’s seriously so beautiful.

But now, you don’t think of it in a sexual way. Back then, you’d always admire how hot Jungkook is, his godlike physique, how lucky you were to be having sex with a guy like him… not now. You just feel mesmerized by his features. The long eyelashes touching his cheeks. The tiny moles on his face and neck. Some old acne scars. 

It’s odd, but right now, you realize just how much you’ve been missing him. It doesn’t make sense - Jungkook is right here, barely an arm apart from you. You made up last night and it seems that everything is back to normal. Still, you desperately miss him. 

Your chest fills up with something strange and unknown. It’s sweet and painful. It makes your heart feel tight, your nerves feel like burning and your eyes well up with tears. 

This is the face of the person that has been with you during most of your life. 

He’s a part of you.

The most important part of you.

In this moment, your feelings for him are so great that it seems that they can’t even fit inside of you anymore.

You watch him sleep for a long time, too scared to move and wake him up. But eventually, he sighs heavily and moves his head, indicating he’s about to wake up.

His eyes finally open and he yawns.

“Good morning.” He says when his eyes focus on you, smiling softly. Jungkook’s voice sounds deep and raspy. He stretches his arms over his head. “I mean… if it’s still morning.”

“It is,” you say softly.

He stares at the ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes. “I dreamed that babies came from eggs. Like ostrich eggs.” He chuckles. “And women gave birth to the eggs like chickens.”

You don’t say anything and just keep watching him instead.

Jungkook finally turns his head at you and frowns, still smiling softly. “What?”

“Nothing.” You say so quietly that he can barely hear.

He gazes back at you.

Slowly, the smile on his lips disappears.

You feel the tension building up around you - but this time it feels different. It’s not a bad tension like what you experienced last night at the terrace, nor is it dense like when you two were aroused and desperate to find a place and please yourselves. This time, it feels delicate but heavy nevertheless. It makes your blood boil and your heart race.

Jungkook’s eyes are serious, heavy and intense over you. All the playfulness is gone. None of you say a word. You don’t even know if you have the power to move considering how heavy the tension is.

He extends his arm and his fingertips touch your cheek. Your skin feels burning hot. Delicately, he puts a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s strange how he’s doing the exact same thing Taehyung did, but with Jungkook, this simple touch made you feel like exploding right there. 

Jungkook is the one to come closer. Closer and closer and closer. Your breathing is heavy. He caresses your cheek his his thumb. Soon, his face is right in front of yours - noses touching, eyes locked and burning with something you can’t quite name.

You stare at each other like this for a moment until his gaze finally drops to your mouth.

You both lean in for the kiss at the same time.

You have already tasted these lips multiple times before - but now, it’s different. The kiss is slow; you move your lips unhurriedly and sweetly. Yet, this kiss feels much more intense than any other you have shared before. None of those times when you kissed him desperately with luxury being the only thing on your mind comes even close to the intensity of this kiss.

It almost feels that this is the actual first time you kiss Jungkook.

Your breathing gets even heavier as the kiss deepens. His hand rests on your waist, while yours hold his neck. The sloppy sounds of your lips and tongues moving together are the only audible thing in the apartment. Your whole being screams in excitement and anticipation when Jungkook moves his body to hover over yours, not even once breaking the kiss. Your right hand grabs his smooth hair while the other travels up and down his back; your body is getting burning hot. Jungkook moans very softly. You start to feel the familiar wetness on your panties.

Jungkook leans away for a moment; his lips are red and swollen, his hair is even messier now, his dark eyes are clouded with want and something you can’t name - something so strong that he’s able to make you shiver with that look alone. He leans down again and starts to kiss and suck your neck very slowly, making soft moans escape through your lips. His hand sneaks under your baggy shirt and he squeezes your breast. Soon, his lips are on yours again and the kiss becomes much deeper. You can already feel sweat forming on your forehead. Jungkook starts to grind on you; you can clearly feel his clothed erection rub against your own core, what makes more and more strangled moans come from both of you.

This is the hottest make out session of your life. The entire atmosphere is not what you’re used to; it’s not playful, none of you say a word. No teasing, no dirty talk. All you do is try to touch each other the best you can, never once breaking the kiss. It’s as if, with this kiss, you’re having a conversation… you’re telling each other everything you’re not brave enough to say out loud.

Soon, the desperation becomes too big. There’s no time to play, you just want to have him inside of you and feel his warm skin against yours. Unceremoniously, you start to undress yourselves, kissing every spot you can find in the process - neck, chest, stomach. Your clothes are thrown around the living room. You lay on your back again and Jungkook hovers above you once more, your legs entangling around his hips as he positions his hard member on your entrance.

You always avoided this position because it is too intimate; you’re forced to look at each other like this. This time, though, it doesn’t matter. You want to look at him - and the sight of his face contorting in pure pleasure, lips parted and eyes closed tightly as he eases himself inside of you, is almost as good as the feeling of being stretched after a long time.

Jungkook doesn’t move at first. He knows he’ll hurt you if he goes too hard right from the beginning. Instead, he waits until you call his name quietly in a strangled moan - the sign he needs to start thrusting. He rests his head on your shoulder and grabs the pillow under your head tightly as he picks up his pace, slow and steady, soft groans coming from the back of his throat that make you feel goosebumps. You hold his back with both hands. You can’t shut the moans anymore.

Sweat makes your skin slippery as he thrusts faster. Jungkook licks and bites your ear, moaning right into it, and it feels that this alone could make you cum. He then leans away for a moment, creating some space between your bodies to have a better angle to keep smashing himself into you - faster and faster, stronger and stronger. The usual sound of skin hitting skin, heavy breathing and moans is all you can hear. 

You said that you didn’t ask him to sleep here just to have sex - and you weren’t lying.

But this doesn’t feel like just sex.

This isn’t fucking.

The pleasure is getting unsustainable and you both feel it. You close your legs around him even tighter and pull his face with both hands, sealing your lips in another intense, desperate kiss. It’s sloppy and unsynchronized. It’s raw and rough and so full of emotions you can’t comprehend that you feel your eyes tearing up again.

What you’re experiencing right now isn’t just two people finding pleasure in each other. It isn’t simply carnal instinct. 

It is the deepest and most sincere way to connect with another being - without any words, through touches only.

You never felt anything like this in your life - not with Mike or any of your past boyfriends and hook ups. This is beyond lust. This is beyond sex.

Jungkook breaks the kiss apart for a second  to look at you. Your gazes lock. God, he’s beautiful. Not only his appearance, but everything about him is beautiful.

And it is right now - stating deep into his eyes - that you come to a conclusion.

Jungkook has always been a part of you. But, in this exact moment, it feels like more.

It feels that you two became one.

He leans down and kisses you again. Your lips are tightly sealed when you both come at the same time.

Your trembling fingers still hold the strands of his damp hair tightly. You caress his face softly, putting some hair away from his eyes. Jungkook kisses you again. And again, and again, and again, and again.

You’re glad when he rests his head on your shoulder again, because like this, he can’t see the tears trickling down your temples.

It’s still hard to understand what just happened. Honestly, you think you’ll never fully understand.

But one thing you do understand, one thing that became as clear as the morning sky, is that your feelings for Jungkook are deeper and stronger than you ever imagined. He’s so much more than a friend.

Yet, you don’t know if he sees you the same way.

You don’t know if he felt the same things you did or if this was just one more time having sex with you. You don’t know if he still has feelings for Yeri or if he’s developing any for Joy.

You know nothing - and this fact makes your heart hurt as if it is being stabbed…

Because Jungkook, the best and most important part of you, might never be truly yours.

[a-hidden-weeb-an-open-queer]

MHA but it's a wattpad werewolf fanfiction. P1.

As a werewolf wattpad author myself, I am taking the library to mock this strange culture phenomenon.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and abusive fathers, nothing super graphic. Slut shaming. Possible hints at beasality (???). And no spell checking. Read at your own risk.

----I don't know how to center text lmao---------

A/N: omg guyz!!!!! im so excited to share this story idea ahhhhh but I'm also super nervous please b nice :)))))))) also to all the haters I'm sorry you're peanut butter jealous of me >:}

OoooooooO

Hello, my name is Izuku Midorya! I am a 4'1 greenette with wide beautiful jade orbs and a slim body. Sadly, I'm very ugly :( because I wear glasses and enjoy comics and other geeky things that other people don't.

Today is my first day at ForestWood High school and I'm super nervous. Everyone at my last highschool hated me because I was super ugly and shy.

"Izuku, sweetie, get up you're gonna be late to school!" My mom whispered yelled through my door.

I gasp, my jade eyes blinking open in panic. I had another nightmare about my abusive acholic dad beating me :(

"C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-Ccoming mom." I stuttered.

I slip out of the soft comforters of my bed and quickly made my way to the mirror. My messy, green hair and beautiful jade orbs staring blinking at me. I frown. My ugly freckles are ugly against my super smooth and milky skin. God, I hated how I looked.

"Honey?" My mom whispered yelled again.

My abusive acholic dad used to beat her whenever he spoke higher than a whisper so now her voice is permanently damaged and she can't speak higher than a whisper ever again. Damn him!!!!!!

"Sorry! I'll be down quickly!" I gasped.

I totally forgot it was my first day at ForestWood High school - i hope the other kids don't bully me for my super ugly glasses and totally weird hobbies like reading comics or listening to Panic At The Disco!

I quickly pull on my vans, my best pair of jeans, and the cutest long sleeve shirt I have. It has to be long sleeved cuz my abusive acholic dad left burn scars all over my arms.

I look at myself through the mirror and nod happily - I am still super ugly tho.

"Hmmmm, it feels like I'm missing something....Oh!" I pulled on my glasses, almost forgetting them. Wow I'm such a klutz!

Laughing to myself, I climb down the stairs and find my mommy in the kitchen making breakfast.

"Hi sweetie! I hope you aren't too stressed out about moving in the middle of sophomore year. It's just that we needed a new start after your abusive acholic father was arrested for a DUI." She whisper yells.

I nod. "No I understand mother."

She smiles. "Okay sweetie, so long you are happy. Do you want me to drive you?"

"No thanks" it's so lame to have your mom drive you too school, I think to myself.

My mom lays down a plate full of eggs, bacon, cheese, pancakes, sausage, and beans. I smile and take a piece of toast "thanks for breakfast mom" i say as i run outside.

"You're welcome honey!" She whisper yells back.

OoooooooooooO

Everyone is staring at me as I walk into the door of WoodForest High School. They all stare wide eyed before turning around to gossip to each other.

I nervously look down, clinching the schedule my student console gave me. Already the weirdo :( it must be the Naruto shirt I'm wearing.

Since I was looking down nervously, I didn't see the slut in front of me. I let out a gasp, body falling backwards as my papers are all scattered to the floor.

"Omg I am sooooooooooooo sorry!" I cried out, head snapping upwards.

Across from me sat the slutties person I've ever seen!!! With a skin tight, thigh high dress, super long heels, and a face full of makeup, he looked like a low-end prostitute.

"Omg! You better be sorry! My father just got me these heels! Ugh! Stupid human!!!!!" He said, beautiful blonde hair shining and gray eyes twinkling with anger.

"I-I-Im-" I stuttered.

"Just fucking shut up you stupid fucking whore omfg this is why i wanted Alpha Todorki to fucking kill all the humans and shit but nooooo that was genocide and bad. Ughhuuuy stupid ass fucking bitch." He yells down at me, standing up from the floor.

Around me the whole student body stares, most laughing or throwing in their own insults. Tears fill my jade orbs as I sniffle.

The slut huffs, spinning on his heels as he marches down the hallway. Everyone watches his ass as he goes because damn.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?" A kind and gentle voice calls out. I turn to see a beautiful brownette standing before me and I blush - she's so cute and nice!

"You must be the new guy! Hi! I'm Ochako~ and the person who just rudely left you sitting on the floor is Momoma - he's sorta the Queen Bee around here. And a mythic bitch" (A/N: if you got that reference plsssssssss be my friend 😭)

Ochako helps me pick up the single piece of paper I dropped when I ran into Momoma.

"Wait, how do you know I'm knew?" I ask confused.

Ochako laughs, sounding suspiciously nervous. Weird...

"Uh....its a small town and every one sorta knows every one hahahaha! OH! It looks like you have Mr. Aizawa first period, so do I! He's sorta of a hardass but is also super kind!"

I nod, "okay!" We walk down the hallway together.

"Hey, do you think you can tell me more about this school?" I ask, not wanting to repeat the same thing I rid with MoBitch.

Ochako nods, "sure! Well this school isn't like most because we have two packs right next to each other -" ochako's eyes widen as she looks my way. I am confused. "-I mean! Not packs. No. That's weird. Wolf like. I meant...families. Two different families and we don't like each other and we don't have many outsiders hahahha"

I blink before nodding, "that makes sense. Who are these families?" I asked like a good main protagonist.

Ochako continues with the NPC dialog. "Well first you have the Todorokis - Alpha, i mean, leader Todoroki is a real hard ass. His son is unmated, I mean, is currently not in a relationship. He's weird but nice. Then there are the bakugos. Alpha...leader Bakugo is real nice! I love her cooking but her son is super mean and is a bad boy so stay away from him. He's also single."

I nod as we come up to a science classroom, "thank you."

"Well, here we are! First period of the day! Ready for hell on earth?" She asks me with a wink.

I take her arm in mine, "only if you're ready to talk along side with me."

She laughs, "of course we're best friends after all."

"I've known you for five minutes."

"What?"

"Nothing."

We step into the classroom, arm in arm. I feel ready to face any weirdos or bad boys.

OoooooooooO

A/N: omggggg that was so much fun 2 write and i feel like it was really good. Please comment and like :))))) it makes me happy and I'm very sad :(((((( love you alll!!!!!!! Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxozoozz

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞

Imagine: You have a serious argument and he lashes out in front of unsuspecting eyes.

Pairing: Klaus x Human!Reader

Warnings: Violence, Traumatic distress.

Words: 1694

Edited: Yes

Recently, my husband Klaus and I have been in a really bad place in our relationship. Rightfully so, Elijah staked himself to save me from possessing The Hollow and killing myself to make certain Klaus didn't lose 'the love of his life' or our children didn't lose their mother. Ever since, he's distanced himself and I understand, he lost his best friend, his brother and his mentor and he never prepared himself for it because he was immortal. But as of late, I've been getting pushed away and I don't really notice being pushed away until I'm alone and not busy like right now. Obviously I've had to stay strong for the kids and they know their father is struggling immensely and I know Klaus is angry and doesn't want to take that out on the kids. The problem is we haven't talked in months...eight months.

He's never home to talk or see the kids or anyone, he's always drunk and reeks of alcohol and comes home at stupid times in the morning which wakes the kids up. Which ends up being a nightmare when I have to get up whilst he passes out for the next day and then goes on his Midnight adventures. Truth is I don't feel like he loves me anymore and it's starting to hurt more and more, since I actually have time to think.

It's currently 6 pm and I'm cooking dinner for the boys and Nathalia(our children). Tonight it was honey salmon and vegetables, although mommy's having a little more wine tonight than salmon. I was just putting my glass of red down before chopping the carrots when Klaus walked in grabbed a bottle of beer out of the fridge and threw the lid on the counter right next to the bin.

"Dick."

He stopped and turned around walking towards the counter and placing the bottle on the counter.

"What was that love ?"

I continued to chop another carrot, ignoring the warmth of his body so close to mine. Having not being touched in weeks was starting to hit me but I wouldn't let it reach.

"That's what I thought. "

Ignoring him, I continued preparing dinner.

"Your so fucking immature Y/N."

He walked out the house and slammed the door behind him.

                                                           ***

I had just started to clean up dinner as I didn't do it straight away after we ate. As I had to bath the kids and get them ready for bed before Klaus got home. No doubt he'd yell at me if they were still awake. I managed to polish off two and a half bottles of red tonight and I was finishing off the rest of the bottle whilst cleaning up. I heard the door open and my eyes shot to the clock, checking the time. 1:45 am, just on time. I was putting the last plate away when I downed my glass and put the wine away. Klaus walked up behind me and started to kiss my neck, his alcohol ridden breath hitting me but also a sweet smell.... is that perfume ?! I pushed him away and tried going upstairs. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

"What do you want Klaus ?"

"I want to fuck you."

"Not happening. The stench of perfume and sex already on you is making me sick."

"Oh stop judging love."

"I'm sorry, did you just tell me to stop judging ?! You cheated on me you cunt."

"It was one girl and it didn't mean anything."

"Whatever Klaus."

I decided to walk into the living room to put away the toys that weren't put away. He downed the rest of his beer he brought home with him and got another one. He sat down and drank some more. I finished cleaning and went to walk upstairs. I quickly realised that he was actually talking to me and that I had an opportunity to sort this out.

"Babe ?"

He groaned.

"What love ?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk Y/N."

"We need too. How has our relationship come to this ?"

"What do you mean Y/N?"

"I mean you don't talk to me anymore, you sleep all day, cheat on me all night and you don't even see the kids anymore."

He scoffed and walked into the kitchen to get another beer and he leant against the counter. I followed him in and placed myself in front of him.

"Klaus stop avoiding this. Talk to me !"

He started to let the alcohol take over and he started to raise his voice.

"Fuck off Y/N, I don't want to talk !"

"Why ?"

"Because I hate you ! That's why !"

"So ten minutes ago you wanted to have sex and now you hate me. Are you fucking bipolar?! Stop raising your voice as well, the kids are asleep."

"I don't give it a shit about waking the fucking kids Y/N."

"I swear to god, you wake those beautiful children upstairs and I'm kicking you out, I promise you."

"Your not kicking me out of my own house. Your the one that started this."

"Please tell me, how ?!"

"You killed my brother ! It's your fault he's fucking dead ! I can live without you but he's my fucking brother Y/N."

"Are you fucking kidding me ?! How the hell is that my fault Klaus, I didn't ask him to do that. He did it because he cares about you !"

"No he cares about you ! He didn't give a shit about me, he didn't want you to die because he loved you ! Not for me or the kids, you !"

"So that's what this is about ? You think he loved me more ?!"

"No, I know he loved you more ! But you still fucking killed my brother and I hate you for that."

"I'm not gonna stand here and listen to this ! I deserve better than this."

"Really ? So you and Elijah didn't kiss on New Years then no ? He didn't proceed to kiss you again on your birthday ? and Mine ?!"

"I NEVER kissed back Nik !"

"Don't fucking lie to me Y/N ! I fucking saw it !"

"I just told you Nik, I never kissed back. He kissed me !"

"I don't believe you. I don't believe you love me anymore. Do you ?"

"Nik..."

"Do you !"

I stood there looking at him in the eyes, I didn't want to lie to him but I didn't know how he'd react. He slammed his beer bottle on the counter and walked over to me, pinning me against the wall by my shoulders.

"Answer me !"

I closed my eyes, allowing tears to roll down my face. I flinched as his hand touched my face, his eyes softened a little but quickly went hard once again. I opened my eyes bravely and shrugged at him whilst biting my bottom lip to keep my cries in. His hard exterior fell from his face and a tear rolled down his cheek, he stumbled backwards and turned his back to me. I walked slowly over to him and placed my small hand on his shoulder without realising that it triggered his anger to surface. The next thing I knew I was pinned up again the wall by my neck and a hard punched reached my nose, breaking it. I fell to the ground and he grabbed another beer out the fridge and sat staring at me emptily, whilst chugging his beer down.

I laid on the floor clutching my nose and trying not to scream to worry the kids, I never wanted them to find out about this. So I struggled to get up and when I finally stood up so did Klaus and he yanked me back by my hair and placed his mouth near my ear.

"You tell no one about this, do you understand me ?"

I didn't reply, I was in too much pain but he yanked harder and the mass of tears flowing down my cheeks got heavier.

"Do you ?!"

"Y-Yes."

He bit into his wrist and forced it in my mouth, forcing his healing blood down my throat. My nose re-positioned and the pain vanished, almost as if it were never there. He sat me down on the sofa and he got me a glass of water once I gulped it down, he pulled me into his side. I heard him gulped and a few tears land on my head. He was crying.

"I'm sorry for everything. Pushing you away, blaming you for Elijah's sacrifice, cheating on you but most importantly for laying my hands on you. I'm meant to be your protector not the person who causes the things you need to be protected from."

I sat up and grabbed his face, before kissing him passionately. He kissed back. For once I felt as if things were actually going to get better. Klaus stopped pushing me away, he didn't lay a finger on me again or sleep with another girl. He was my husband and father of my kids again.

Little did the know their eldest son saw the whole thing.

                                                       ***

Henry's POV

I was sleeping peacefully like usual, which meant my dad wasn't home yet thank god. I hate him so much. He treats my mom like shot and I still have to pretend like I know nothing because my mom thinks we are so oblivious to the mistreatment. Then I checked my phone 2:05 am followed with a slam downstairs. I snuck down the stairs, knowing full well I was dead meat if I was found out of bed. I got to the middle balcony of stairs and had a perfect view in the kitchen and as soon as I got there I sat down and saw dad yelling at my mom. Next thing I see is her on the floor with him a broken nose and my dad being smug about it. I went back up to my bedroom to perfect my plan.

How was I to kill my father ?

                                                       ***

Children:

Daughter-4 years old named Nathalia.

Son-9 years old named Ansel.

Son-15 years old named Daniel

Part 2

MASTERLIST

[nostalgic-pancakes]

Room 73- Chapter 4/8

Summary: D&D is planned, two characters get their very own breakdowns, Thomas reminisces, and Virgil has one good day

Pairings: (eventual) QPP’s Remus and Patton, Pre-Relationship prinxiety, sibling-y Virgil and Original Character, Creativitwins

Read on AO3

Word count: 3326

Warnings: Questionable parenting, period-typical homophobia, the foster system, semi-graphic (?) depictions of violent death, rage breakdown, nervous breakdown, minor arson.

Other notes: None!

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Logan quite frankly had no idea what Janus meant by ‘friendly hissing’. All hissing was a warning sign to potential prey, and wasn’t friendly in any incarnation! How could certain kinds of hissing be friendly? They all sound the same!

This was a level of insanity nearly topping Neil DeGrasse Tyson playing Merlin in the fucking Sharknado movies. But not really. That would top everything. Either way, Janus, someone who also hissed rather often (information citation being Patton) was likely the superior authority in tonal hissing. Logan’s a bit too sleep-deprived looking up resources for ghosts and surviving midterms to care too much.

Either way, the Dungeons and Dragons planning session was starting today. Everyone would be there at lunch this time and that meant that one, he would get to see his brother for the first time since homeroom (no common classes on Wednesdays was not ideal), and meeting with the rest of their newfound friends.

(Logan had never had anyone other than Virgil, and the rest seem to be alright. Janus knows, anyways, and he didn’t hate Logan for it, so it’s probably alright. He hopes it’s alright.)

“Lo-Lo!! Over here!” comes a friendly voice from his northeast. It’s Patton, who’s waving at him, glasses crooked, big smile. Logan fixes his glasses, and tries to smile back. It works, and even feels real.

Patton from up close certainly looks a bit tired, but he’s still happy enough, so Logan refrains from pointing it out.

When they reach the lunch table tentatively labeled as ‘theirs’, Virgil scoots over to let Logan slot between him and Roman, while Patton curls up next to Janus, relishing being with their siblings again, as much as friends are ‘neat’.

(Maybe he’s been getting back into Welcome to Night Vale. Maybe Amma cried and hugged him, calling it progress and Mom sat next to him and listened to her own show, the Magnus Archives and held him close. Maybe Virgil squeezed him tight and brought out the ‘What the Fuck is Happening in Night Vale’ board they’d made when they were twelve. He’d never tell)

Remus starts to hand out sheets of paper, asking everyone to draw their characters while he and Virgil work on plot, and it’s quiet in that little space of three pairs of siblings sketching out D&D characters, later talking about little things, big things and everything in between in the courtyard because the senior kids had exams and therefore none of them had last period. It was pleasant, and they’d all be paying their third ever group visit to Thomas later in the afternoon, too.

This was nice.

…

“Hey, Vi?” Hildi asked from behind him. They were sitting back-to-back, on her bed listening to a new album from All Time Low. The name didn’t matter too much yet.

“Yeah, Di?”

“Wanna do low level arson?” she asked, turning to face him and reclaiming her earbud. This was probably a terrible idea, but Hildi was the one person he wasn’t scared of acting out horrific ideas with. He smiles, and it’s reflected in Hildi’s eyes, dark green like the forest she lives in.

“Sure, why not?” he gets up, and Hildi turns around again for him to take his binder off and put on a sports bra, before putting his jumper (that Patton had given him for his birthday last week) back on, and patting his jean pockets for his phone. Once he knew everything was there, Hildi turned back to him, took his hand and led him outside. - “Okay, so how did you possibly, in any fucking timeline convince me to set fire to your old ‘Secret Diaries’ in the middle of the very flammable woods as if it was, at all, anything REMOTELY RESEMBLING a good idea?!”

“The power of friendship, Virge. Don’t fret, the damages are going to be well hidden in a week.”

“Oh my god but this is how forest fires start, were we crazy?!”

“Virgil calm down, nothing is more than slightly scorched, nothing is dead, and we caught every last ember! You’d know!”

“How would I know? Isn’t that more your department?”

“Spend enough time with a witch, and this is what happens. I regret nothing.”

“I regret so many things.”

“Sadness.” - “Hey, scaredy-bro, Love you.” Hildi whispers into the night, and Virgil remembers nights like this in middle school, when he started to realise that not everyone was as scared as him all the time, and he’d become more scared because everyone was watching, and laughing, and--

And Hildi had been there, a casual acquaintance from primary school becoming his best friend becoming his kind of sister because what other word is there (?), offering him trash earbuds that made the grunge music sound that much grungier, and holding him close on the nights Logan came home, unable to speak, covered in bruises, never letting Virgil tell their parents even though Logan was their twin and Virgil was so scared-- She caught him as he fell, and he hopes that she knows that he’ll forever be grateful for it.

“Love you too, you fucking danger noodle.”

Hildi chucks a throw pillow at him. It misses by at least three feet, falling off the shared bed. They both giggle, loud enough that Hildi’s mum ‘ssh’’s them from her own room, audible even with the closed door.

Three hours later, knowing full well that Virgil’s been on tumblr this whole time, Hildi whispers again.

“Hey, let’s look for Kelpies in the creek tomorrow”

This is an awful idea. But it has fewer environmental ramifications.

“Sure, why not. After December break?”

“Fuck yeah.”

They don’t last a lot longer after that.

…

Virgil wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find when he went to check on Roman, after it was ten minutes past final bell and he still hadn’t shown in the chemistry room after going back to pick up his papers.

Having a minor breakdown was not on that list, even though murder was. Virgil’s brain needed new priorities.

“Ro-Ro, Roman, what’s happening?”

“I-I can’t Virgil, I can't do it, please, I’m sorry” Virgil’s hands clenched tighter onto Roman’s shirt collar, knuckles white from the worry.

“You can't do what, Roman?” he asks, as gently as he can

“I-I’m so scared, Virgil. Mom’s not doing well, Dad’s doing the opposite of helping, and Remus and I don’t know what to do, Virgil. They keep f-fighting. The last time we tried to tell, it was by accident, and Mom had gotten so mad, and she’d said “If you keep talking about how Mom and Dad fight, then there won’t be a mom and dad’ and I can’t-- I can’t live without her, I can’t, Virgil!” Roman blubbers into his shirt, staining his hoodie and and pressing against his (currently unbound, but no big deal) chest, but Virgil literally could not give a shit about his hoodie right then, pulling him closer and cradling Roman’s head in the crook of his neck, one hand in his (fluffy, holy shit is this cotton?) hair, the other cradling his back. Roman smells like wood and some kind of flower.

“Have you told her any of this, Ro?” Virgil asks, and Romab lets out a bigger sob, burying himself into Virgil’s torso. Virgil knew that Roman’s parents weren’t on the best of terms right now, even though they kept trying to be good parents, but this? This was new.

“I c-can’t because-hic- She’ll get more upset, and she’s alsways so close to snapping and i can’t tell dad because he’ll get angry and I can’t tell Remus because he knows but he doesn’t, he doesn’t---fuck”

“Doesn’t?” prompts Virgil, softly into Roman’s hair, muffled by the soft chestnut curls.

“know, not same as I do, he doesn’t get sad, he gets mad, and he doesn’t want to become like dad but he stops talking and locks himself in rooms to not yell at people and I don- I don’t wanna make it worse.” he says softly, and Virgil starts stroking his hair, as a way to try and calm Roman down, trying not to cry a bit himself. He wishes, in a horrible way, that this was a panic attack. He doesn’t know what to do here.

“Could you find a way to maybe more quietly tell her to stay, perhaps?” asks Virgil again, even quieter this time. Roman more feels the words than he hears them, a soothing sort of humming.

“But it’s so selfish, isn’t it? That I think that? She deserves to be happy, and if being without us is happy, then she should, right? But I can’t do this with just my dad- he’s trying, but I can’t, help, please.”

And Virgil doesn’t know what to do, or what to say anymore. So he just holds Roman tighter in that very small corner in the 9-D classroom, and Roman clutches back until he’s cried it out entirely, and is ready to face everyone else. It’s been a few minutes, but they can clean up real quick.

Virgil takes out his spare hoodie and changes into it, Roman with his back turned in the boy’s bathroom, while Roman fixes his hair and washes the drying tear tracks off of his face, which were starting to feel like a mask on his face. He tries for a smile, and it’s small, but at least it’s real.

Virgil passes him a granola bar, and Roman hesitates for a second, before smiling again, taking it in hand and pocketing it. Roman offers his hand for Virgil to take, and he does, feeling the softness of Roman’s hands in comparison to his own, long and calloused with fidget rings on both hands. He squeezes.

Virgil looks up at Roman again, and they share a small smile, before walking out of the bathroom, hand in hand.

Wait- why are his hands glowing?

“Fuck you, Hildi.” he muttered under his breath.

“Huh, what?” Roman looked back at him, questioningly.

“Uh, nothing. Just thinking. ‘Cmon.” he smiles again, and he means it. With Roman, it feels like all his fears can be kept aside for another day.

…

“Oh my god, Remus, no you cannot make yourself a dwarven stripper this is a PG-13 D&D game oh my god--”

Remus looks up from the (probably very gory) conversation he’s having with Patton to reply to Virgil. “And why not? Minnie could be a stripper in the way back!”

“Just… no, thanks.”

“UUUUUGH, you’re no FUN, Virgey.”

“C’mon Bro, you could be… I dunno, a taxidermist?” Remus gets the manic glint back in his eye, snatching his sheet back from Virgil to add in the new information, scribbling frantically. His handwriting is already nigh impossible to read on a good day, so he’d better be able to read his own character sheet.

“Hey Thomas, what do you want to be?” asks Janus, undoing his loops to start a new string game, having finished his character profile- a Tiefling Wizard, about ten minutes ago while Logan became his work partner and roommate (Oh my god they were roommates), a human wizard. Virgil was the DM, therefore without a character other than an ominous voice with anxiety and a god complex at the same time, and Patton and Roman were both Elves, though Patton was an Artificer and Roman was a Bard.

Logan quickly jotted down Thomas’s responding morse code, chuckled, and read it aloud. “He says, and I quote: Can I be the thing that goes bump in the night? But also offer tea and biscuits to wayward travellers.”

Virgil smiles in Thomas’s vague direction, trying to make eye contact with the static. He fails, but Thomas thinks it’s quite nice of him to try.

“You’re too nice, T. I’ll write it down for you.”

You’re too nice

He was too nice to not let them get away with it, to stop them from killing him, to stop them from--

”Oi! You fruitcake, too nice to go running to your boyfriend, huh? Get a taste of this and see whether you’re nice enough to take it.”

He was. He didn’t object to the stuff in the bottle going down his throat, burning up his organs and destroying his body from the inside.

He didn’t have enough vocal chords left to scream, even as the other boy, final year, shook him as if trying to see whether he’s wake up, even as a hole formed in his throat, bleeding and burning and burning and burning--

It’s the last thing Thomas remembers.

“Thomas? Thomas? You’re making static-y noises again. You okay?” it’s Virgil, and it’s been nearly a hundred years and they’re dead and he’s dead and there’s nothing left of anyone he remembers but memories and he pushes aside his last memory, the worst one, to try and think of Valerie, his amazing sister who got to go to his school, sit in the same chemistry room once it was converted into a public school. Terrence, his family friend who came to his gravestone specially when segregation ended, and he could finally come and visit.

Everett, his boyfriend, who kept visiting, every day at four P.M on the dot until he was twenty and left town for college. It feels better to remember them as they were, in loose clothes playing in the woods, hide and seek and dolls and Valerie-the-Nurse and Everett-The-Soldier and Thomas-The-Film-Star and finding ways to get Terrence away to play with them too, as Terrence-The-Mechanic who could fix anything, even emotional problems as their Mom’s tittered and their fathers scowled but they didn’t matter because they were having fun.

He snaps out of it proper when Virgil manages to locate his hand, semi-visible ...

Patton’s pulling at his hair, not enough to fall out but enough to hurt, Sarcastrophe by Slipknot raging through his headphones and he knows that this is bad for his hearing, but at this point if it can drown out the absolute rage pounding in his mind, then going deaf is worth it.

He doesn’t even know why he’s mad. It’s just there and he’s screaming into his sleeves, tears caking on his face for moments before the anger arrives again and there’s a new layer of saltwater on top of it, endlessly endlessly going and he can’t stop it and why can’t it just stop--

There’s someone calling. It’s Remus. And Patton has to be happy and he thinks he might just implode with the… everything building up in him, but he has to do this so he picks up the phone.

“Hi Patty-Cakes!” The nickname makes him want to puke, even though he doesn like it, but he swallows the imaginary bile in his throat and replies.

“H-Hey, Remus.”

“Patton? You alright?” No, not at all he wants to scream and kick and cry but also freeze and never move again and his head hurts and there’s a pit in his stomach that won’t go away!

“YEAH! Uh, yeah. I’m good.” he sniffles, and he hopes Remus didn’t pick up on it. Judging by the silence on the other end, he probably did.

“Pat, please, tell me what’s wrong. I won’t say anything. Just let it out. It usually works for Roman and I, but just- see for yourself, okay?” Remus sounds a little concerned, a little desperate, and Patton thinks Remus can hear him trying to stifle his crying. He tries a little harder and all that comes out is one long moan with hitches for cries and the tears are drying, and Remus starts again, concerned, but Patton can’t hear, because the tears are catching up again and he’s screaming again and his fingernails have cut little red crescent moons into his cheek and it drips a little and Remus is still talking, soothingly and Patton latches onto that voice like it’s the only thing that could possibly carry him through this because it damn well feels like it.

He hears footsteps but not really, too focused on trying to regain control of his breathing, following Remus’s count.

When it's been a few minutes of following the count, and Patton’s breathing has evened out, he wipes off his face in his old faithful broom skirt, always ready for days like these, and he buries himself a little further into his hoodie, covering with it the phone on his ear.

“Patty--”

“No, not that, please.”

“Patton, Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, actually, but he doesn’t really see the point, since nothing lasts for him. He’s a fucked up foster kid ™ style. Good things don’t happen to him. (Maybe to Janus. Janus deserves good things, good people, better than him--)

“Why wouldn’t this last? And you’re a foster kid?” fuck, he said that aloud? Well, rest in fucking pieces, brain to mouth filter.

“Yeah, f-foster kid here.”

“Janus too?”

“Yeah.” he whispers, throat too tired for anything else. He’s not ready for the universal ‘how’ question, but he’s not been prepared for any of this so far, so maybe he should just not bother.

“Okay. Do your foster parents show any signs of wanting to let you go?” no, not really. In fact, he’d seen Remy and Emile trying to quickly hide a sheaf of papers any time Patton or Janus entered a room, and Patton’s been pushing down the hope as much as possible, even as he sees Janus start to believe it eventually. Patton has to be ready for something to go wrong, he can’t afford to let down his guard, lest he can’t protect Janus anymore. He has to make sure nothing can faze him.

But he wants. He wants so, so badly that sometimes he lies in bed for hours, pushing down the want and trying his best not to cry, until it’s morning and he’s waking Janus up even though he could barely push himself out of bed. He says this to Remus, because he still wants. He wants to stay near Remus forever, recite oddly dark facts and binge-watch the Sharknado movies again while Logan and Janus screech in betrayal and huddle up close and he wants to have this. He wants this so badly.

“Pat, I didn’t know how to say it, but I want to be with you forever too. You like my weird facts, and you stay by me when I’m mad and I want to be there when you’re sad, Patton. I want this too.”

“R-really?”

“Of course, Patton. I don’t lie. Especially not to you.” Patton laughs, somewhat wetly, and Remus’s tone brightens when he hears it, and Patton can feel the smile on the other side of the line, manic-looking but inherently full of kindness, and everything feels a little more okay.

The hurt isn’t gone, but at least he isn’t forcing it down into his large intestine anymore.

“Thanks, Re. I-I’ll talk to Emile and Remy when they come home, okay? I’ll tell you what happened. See you in school tomorrow?”

“Course, Patton. Now I’m gonna go get something for Roman to eat before his stomach acids digest his entire body, eyes and all.”

Patton laughs. “Okay! Just don’t miss your therapy appointment, okay?”

“Never do. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call finally cuts off, and the timer reads 37:19:73, and he probably spent a good chunk of that time having a breakdown, but strangely enough, Patton doesn’t feel super bad about it. The want is there, and he’s still not super sure about what to do with it, but he knows that he wants it to be real, and even if something does go wrong, he’ll still have Remus’s number.

The door swings open as Janus enters the house, and creaks closed downstairs, and Patton flops onto his bed, eyes still a little red, putting his phone on charge to take a nap. He’ll have emotionally charged conversation, but after this nap, thanks.

[purplesurveys]

1139

1 - What's your favourite TV show that was released before you were born? What is it that got you into that show in the first place? My parents introduced me to Perfect Strangers when I was 10 since they both grew up watching and enjoying the show - it came out in 1986 and ended in 1993. I love it mostly for the dynamic of Larry and Balki, which was really the whole point of the series. Then there’s also Friends, which first came out in 1994. It’s my comfort show for years to come and it’ll always be a series I’ll come back to whenever I need a pick-me-up.

2 - What is your preferred brand and flavour of ice-cream? I usually just stick to Selecta and I always get cookies and cream. Sometimes I’ll spoil myself and get Ben and Jerry’s and get whatever flavor that has cookie dough.

3 - When's the last time you got something in your eye? Can’t remember the last time I either cried or felt irritated with something in my eye.

4 - When was the last time someone got you flowers and what was the occasion? I’m not so sure. It was two or three years ago, I think. I don’t get to receive flowers or bouquets often, and especially not these days.

5 - What are your plans for tomorrow? Are these normal for that particular day of the week or are you doing something out of the ordinary? It was such a draining work week so I wanna use the free time this weekend to relax; but since I’m a bit of a workaholic I might also end up finding some time to do some work on the side just to feel productive hahah. I can’t go out either since we’re experiencing another spike in Covid cases - we’re reaching 7000 new cases a day - and stay-at-home orders and curfews are in place everywhere again, so I’ll just have to make the most of my time at home this weekend.

6 - What will you be eating for your next meal? Depends on what my mom is making for dinner, but I’m guessing another pasta dish...it’s Friday, though, and I usually allot this day to have food delivered in the evening as a reward to myself for finishing the week strong heheh. I got a spicy tuna salad and sushi again :)

7 - Who was the last person to pay you a compliment? How did you come to know that person? Andi, I think. We met at an anti-Marcos rally three years ago. They were carrying a big-ass guitar and I approached them because I liked their wrestling shirt.

8 - When is the last time the weather changed your plans? What were your plans and what did you end up doing instead? That would be last November, when we were in the middle of a bad typhoon and I had to file an emergency leave because we had a village-wide power outage and it kept me from being readily available for work. I made plans to a nearby mall to get wi-fi, but our village was seriously flooded so there was no way out. I had no choice but to begrudgingly file the leave even though I really wanted to attend work lol.

9 - What's your favourite kind of liquor? Do you prefer it "plain", flavoured or in a mixer? Tequila. Preferably as straight shots, because I like having a good time lmao.

10 - Who was the last person you spoke to via video call? Did you speak to this person via video before the pandemic hit? My workplace doesn’t really make it a norm to turn on our videos unless we’re pitching to or speaking with clients who prefer video calls. But I did just come from a Google Meet (albeit just using audio) this afternoon to present a deck and that call was with my co-workers and the clients we were presenting to. And no, I wasn’t even employed before the pandemic so other than Bea, I’ve never met any of the people in the call in person.

11 - Are you someone who prefers routine or spontaneity? I thrive on routine, but I also like it spiked with the occasional spontaneity.

12 - What streaming services (if any) are you subscribed to? Do you think they're good value for money? Just Netflix and Spotify. Yeah, I’d say both are good deals, especially Spotify.

13 - When was the last time you struggled to get to sleep? What did you do to help things? I’m not so sure, actually. I have no problem passing out these days lol. If I do have trouble falling asleep, I usually remedy it by watching YouTube videos or take a survey until my eyes feel tired.

14 - How often do you get your five a day? What was the last fruit or veggie that you ate? I’ve never heard of that concept...anyway, I looked it up and it has something to do with having a good amount of fruits and veggies per day. In any case, I had eggplants in my dinner tonight.

15 - How do you take your coffee? 3-in-1, so that it’s already made and blended well for me lmaaaaao. If I’m ordering at a coffee shop, I like sweeter flavors; I never take mine black.

16 - Is there anything that you're currently putting off? When do you think you'll finally get round to doing it? Getting new frames for my eyeglasses and an updated prescription along with it. Idk man, it just seems pointless to book  an appointment for the meantime since I’m never out and I can manage during my workdays without glasses anyway. With another strict lockdown order in place, idk when I’ll ever get around to setting an appointment.

17 - When was the last time you watched a Disney film? Which one was it and is it one of your favourites? I have no idea, it’s definitely been a while.

18 - What was the last household chore you completed? Is this something you do regularly? Just cleaned out the tray underneath Cooper’s playpen since it had some food crumbs and some of his fur. Yeah, I do it every night.

19 - Who were you with the last time you went out for a meal? Angela, Hans, Pia, Kyelle, Al, Gab, and Sam.

20 - Have you had your COVID vaccine yet? If not, are you going to accept it when you're offered? No, not yet. My workplace booked a bulk order for one of the vaccines - though I can’t remember which one - and we should be getting it in a few months or so.

21 - Do you have any pets and how many? If not, would you like to have one someday? I have two dogs. I’ve always wanted dogs, so I’m okay for now.

22 - What's the most unusual meat you've ever eaten? Did you like it? Carabao meat. It was fine, not horrid-tasting or anything, but I wouldn’t have it again. The one I had felt very hastily made, apart from smelling and tasting very farm-y.

23 - Do you prefer still or sparkling water and why? Still. I don’t like carbonated stuff period, so I doubt I’d enjoy sparkling water.

24 - Do you own a car? If so, could you live your current lifestyle without one? If you don't have one, would having one change your life in any way? My parents technically own it because they bought it, but it was designated for me. I mean I’d obviously survive without a car, but I’d find it very inconvenient. Booking a Grab every time would be so costly, and I’m not willing to try out our public transport anyway because they’ve been constantly terrible with disinfection and sanitation protocols throughout the pandemic.

25 - Who was the last person you made plans with and what are you going to do? Andi; we made plans to have our thesis printed and bound so that we can finally put a close to our college life hahaha. We just have to figure out a date and I also have to remove Gabie from my acknowledgments.

26 - What's the worst kind of physical pain you've ever experienced? Is this a one-off or is it something you experience regularly? Accidentally ripping my earring off my piercing was a fucking thrill I’d never want to go through again.

27 - What's your favourite length for a survey to be? Do you get put off if surveys are longer or shorter than you like? Anywhere between 35-80 questions is fine. Anything else would be too short or long. I’ll occasionally give long surveys a pass since it’s easy to take breaks in between, but I ignore short ones altogether.

28 - What colours are you wearing at the moment? Are any of those colours your favourite? I have a multi-colored striped top on and a scarlet pair of shorts. And no, I’m not wearing any pink rn.

29 - Once you've found a TV show you like, do you tend to watch it over and over again? What was the last TV programme you watched for the second or third time? Not with all shows - like I haven’t revisited BoJack Horseman after completing it the first time. I’ve been like this with Friends and Brooklyn Nine-Nine, though.

30 - When was the last time you cried and what was the reason for it? Do you feel better now? No idea when but it was probably from a heartwarming video.

[chelsfic]

Part Two - Wish You Weren’t Here - Diego Jiménez x Reader - Starz Power fanfic

Part One

A/N: I think this spun out of my control when the angst train left the station. Oh well???

Warnings: Same as before with the smut, exhibitionism, forced audience to exhibitionism. Only this time we’ve got some angst!! and also the reader has a panic attack due to her phobia of heights. Oh yeah and there’s a mention of murder?

***

When you step off the elevator the first thing you’re aware of is the noise coming from the living room. Whining, mewling female cries underlaid with Diego’s strained, masculine grunts and the obscene, wet sound of his dick slamming into his latest conquest. You take a little breath and square your shoulders. This is your new normal and you’re determined to face it. And the little stab of jealousy that cuts you from inside is barely even there anyway.

The penthouse’s open floor plan means you have an immediate line of sight on the activities as soon as you step out of the elevator alcove. Diego’s back is toward you, his muscles taught with effort as he buries himself inside the woman from behind. She’s pressed up against the window wall, her skin making loud squeaks against the glass each time he thrusts roughly into her. Damnit, Diego. Are you going to have to clean those windows every single day?

Diego hears the elevator chime as you arrive and he’s craning his neck to watch you over his shoulder, his teeth bared in a lustful grimace. You avoid his eyes and move into the kitchen, determined to start your work day as if your boss isn’t putting on an exhibitionist show in the next room. But Diego won’t let you get away that easy.

He calls your name in a voice that’s broken with lust and you close your eyes for a second, trying to master your body’s reaction to this man. Diego isn’t having it, “Come here, little girl! Now!”

The last word is an order barked out in the forceful tone he reserves for subordinates and you have no other option but to obey. Still, you drag your feet, making your way slowly toward the writhing couple and keeping your gaze fixed on the floor. 

Diego groans and whines at you, “Get your ass over here.”

“Diego,” you sigh, finally stopping a couple feet away and still determinedly averting your gaze. Your voice shakes, “You know I don’t like being so close to the windows…”

Yeah. Sure. That’s the problem here. But you’re not lying. In addition to the jealousy, arousal, embarrassment, and confusion, you also feel that telltale shaky panic you always get when you’re too close to a high ledge. 

Diego doesn’t stop frantically thrusting his hips as he responds, “I’ll keep you safe. Come here.”

He removes a hand from the woman’s ass and reaches out to you. God, you can not be swooning over this man telling you he’ll keep you safe while he’s fucking another woman. Right? RIGHT?

You slide cautiously forward and Diego hooks his arm around you, hugging you to his side even as he continues burying himself in this woman who still moans and writhes with abandon. He doesn’t try to cop a feel, he’s just holding you against his naked body. Your cheek presses against his muscled chest and you feel the instinctual urge to wrap your arms around him but you hold back. You need to stay detached. Your nascent attraction to your boss is already a problem without being drawn into his sex life as some...pitiful observer. With nothing to look at except the woman’s back and the perilous view from the windows you simply turn and bury your face into the crook of Diego’s arm. He threads his fingers through your hair gently even as his other hand digs bruisingly into the woman’s hip as he slams into her, grunting with his release. 

Once it’s over he pulls away from both of you with a disorienting alacrity. You’re standing there stupidly, not sure what to do with yourself (and aching with discomfort at the moisture between your legs). The girl tries to pull Diego into a kiss but he presses a stack of bills into her hands and pushes her towards the elevator. She’s still nude, holding the money and her dress in her hands as she walks out. 

Diego pulls on a pair of tight jeans and collapses onto the couch, grabbing the remote control and flicking on the giant television inlaid into the wall opposite the couch, looking casual as ever. 

You take a deep breath, hand to your chest, trying to get a hold of yourself. You glance around and notice the obscene streaks on the window where the woman’s body had pressed against the glass. You let out a sigh and go to fetch the glass cleaner. 

Diego snakes out a hand and grabs the bottom of your t-shirt as you pass by the couch. 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the TV as he speaks, “Sit with me for a little while.”

For a second you’re at a loss for words as your brain tries to keep up with Diego’s rapid mood changes. Lust...dismissal...neediness. You’re also working through your own tumult of emotions. You’re still--ahem--worked up about what just happened. And confused about feeling jealous. And humiliated at being the third wheel to this man to whom you’re growing increasingly more attached despite your best efforts. 

“I was going to clean the window? It’s all...smudged. Again. Maybe--maybe you could do that someplace else next time?” You can’t look at him. In fact you’d really like to hide in a little nook for a while or possibly the rest of eternity.

He just pats the seat next to him and dismisses your concern, “It can wait.”

You let out a shaky sigh and settle stiffly beside him on the couch. Diego is lying stretched out on the cushions and as soon as you sit he scoots up to rest his head in your lap, giving a little contented sigh as he flips through the channels. Your face is stricken with indecision, your hands hovering in the air over him. What is he doing? And why? And...oh god the wetness between your legs is a damning sign of your lingering arousal--can he? You might die.

You finally rest your hand on his bare shoulder, fingers tentatively rubbing gentle circles into his skin. Diego purrs in satisfaction and nuzzles his face against your thigh. Yeah, you’re dead now. But he just lays there, head in your lap, one hand wrapped around your knee, and watches a soccer match on TV. Questions swirl through your mind and you start talking before your brain has a chance to do anything about it.

“Diego, why do you--I mean...,” you flounder and grasp for words to voice questions you’re afraid to ask. Why did you do that? Why did you pick me? Why do you...like me? What do you want? But--even after being forced to watch him in his most unguarded, intimate moments--you can’t bring yourself to voice these questions that are too personal to be asking your boss.

It doesn’t matter because--yet again--Diego reads your mind. His voice holds a tone of amused condescension as he speaks, “You seem so...innocent. And good. It’s funny! I like to watch you get all embarrassed and flustered.”

You narrow your eyes at the back of his head, annoyed to have your fears confirmed: that he’s just been toying with you for his own amusement. But when you remove your hand from his shoulder to card your fingers through his hair and he gives another contented purr you start to question if he’s being straight forward with you. He clings to you like someone starved for affection--which--that can’t be true considering what you’ve just witnessed, right? But this is different, isn’t it? Diego is soft and comfortable. He’s not putting on a show. He’s seeking comfort from someone...what? Different? Someone who doesn’t know shit about his business. Someone who’s afraid of getting high off cocaine by accidentally breathing it in? Someone he calls...innocent? And good?

The elevator doors ping and all at once Diego stiffens in your lap, sitting up and roughly pushing your hand away. It’s beyond stupid that you feel hurt at his sudden withdrawal. But you do. His whole demeanor changes before your eyes, face closing off, guards coming up. One of his guys strides forward and you see him eyeing you sitting on the couch with little invisible question marks in the air around his head. Diego does too.

“Get back to work,” he orders, voice cold and hard once more. You nod and get up, scurrying away to get started on your chores and determinedly suppressing the hurt feelings that he’d only see as another sign of your weakness.

***

Diego’s been enjoying toying with you for a few weeks before he starts to question if he’s let you get too close. It’s the night of the roof top party when Ángel starts asking insolent questions that he should no better to keep to himself.

“Yo, Diego! That new maid you have is cute as hell, huh?”

Diego is lounging on the rooftop patio, an amazonian beauty currently worshiping him on her knees. His face darkens and he regards the other man with narrowed eyes.

He addresses him between gasps of pleasure, his words rushed, “I told you before she’s not for you, Ángel.”

Ángel laughs and claps Diego on the shoulder, “It’s like that? Never thought Diego Jiménez would catch feelings...”

Diego’s orgasm interrupts the conversation. He grabs the girl by the hair and holds her head still as he fucks into her mouth, grunting with aggressive passion as he finishes. Ángel looks away, backs off. He misses the murderous gleam in Diego’s eye.

***

It’s hard to call it a routine since Diego’s life is so chaotic and unpredictable--but you get used to the flow of events that surround your employer. Most days you arrive at the penthouse to find a massive mess from the party the night before. You grumble and sigh and shoot annoyed glances at him when he deigns to wake up, but you remind yourself that the money is enough to pay off your car loan sooner and maybe (finally) move into a better apartment--so you deal with it. 

The other stuff is more... difficult. Sometimes all you have to endure is watching a gorgeous woman’s walk of shame as she leaves the apartment. But other times it’s...more. Diego definitely loves an audience. And you seem to be his favorite. He always wants you touching him in some way while he takes his pleasure from the nameless women who line up to sleep with him. You’re disgusted with yourself that you keep letting him play with you like this. But a part of you wants to be near to him anyway you can, delighting that he lets you this close, even if it’s downright insulting. What if this is all he ever offers you?

You shake those morose thoughts from your head as you enter the penthouse and do a double take at the pristine rooms. Nothing out of place, no half-dressed bodies passed out on the furniture? You practically skip into the living room thinking how much easier your day will be because Diego--apparently--spent a single night not partying. 

You should have known better.

Diego’s bent over the coffee table as you walk in, snorting a line of coke off the glass. You freeze in place, feeling like you’ve disturbed a private moment. Which is beyond dumb, girl--how many of Diego’s “private moments” have you witnessed? But you’ve never seen him getting high before…

He wipes his nose and looks up at you with bright eyes, cracking his neck with pent up energy. He has a look on his face that’s positively feral and you take a step back, feeling fear you haven’t felt in weeks. 

“Diego. Are you...okay?” you ask. Are you okay? He’s probably feeling just fine--what is the matter with you?

He smirks cruelly up at you, “Sweet, innocent, Y/N. You’re scandalized? Really? You know what I am.”

You try to sound casual and non-judgmental as you reply. Of course you know what he does for business. It’s just...

“It’s just...I’ve never seen you--”

“You want me to fuck you so bad but you can’t handle all of me, can you? Little girl,” derision drips from his words. Okay, what the fuck?

You feel tears stinging your eyes at his words. So this is what he’s like when he’s high. Charming. You turn from him and walk over to the closet to grab your cleaning supplies.

“Hey,” he calls after you, “You need to go up to the patio and clean up. We were up on the roof last night.”

You freeze with your back to him, feeling the creeping sensation of panic on the back of your neck. Is he kidding?

“Diego...I--I can’t do that…”

He stands and looms over you, his eyes are mean.

“What the fuck am I paying you for? There’s a mess up there that needs cleaning.” 

“But--”

He puts his hand on the back of your neck and squeezes. Just as he did that first day. You don’t understand why he’s being like this. He’s been so soft with you lately. You try a different tactic, bringing your hand up to cup his stubbled jaw as you look into his eyes. His eyes melt a little at your touch.

“You know how I’m afraid of heights. Isn’t there someone else…”

But his eyes harden again almost immediately and he rips away from you. You barely catch a panicked look on his face as he turns away. He’s let himself be too vulnerable with you. He can’t afford that. Not if people are starting to notice.

“I pay you to clean,” he says in a monotone, with his back on you. “Go do that.”

***

The biblical mess that awaits you on the rooftop patio is actually a blessing in disguise. It’s so bad that you’re too busy to acknowledge your crippling fear for a little while. It’s only after the first hour of bagging, scrubbing and disinfecting--when things are starting to look more civilized--that you feel the fear return. It’s about time to head down and toss the trash anyways, so you make your way to the door, lugging three full garbage bags. 

A painful knot in your throat forms when you see the door sealed shut. You’d left a chair propping it open so you wouldn’t get locked out, but the chair is on its side and the door stands shut, like a stone locking you inside a tomb. 

Okay, wow--that was really melodramatic. Maybe it’s not locked. You try the knob. Definitely not moving. Calm, deep breaths. You set the bags down and try the door knob again, turning it in all directions, pulling, pressing and tugging with increased energy as the panic takes hold. You’re stuck. You’re stuck up here. The wind blew the chair over. What if. What if...oh my god.

No. You’re not getting blown away with the wind. There is a--very inadequate--fence around the roof to protect you. You’ll be fine. You’ll just...send a text Diego and he’ll come let you inside and it will all be…

Fine.

To: Beefy Boss Boi

Hey I’m stuck up on the roof. Can you come let me back inside? Thanks.

You force yourself to sound cool and collected in the text, even as you’re getting down on your hands and knees and starting to shake. Diego will get the message and be here before you know it.

***

Nothing like an unexpected visit from his sister to completely destroy Diego’s fucking high. Not like he was really enjoying himself, he admits. Sitting around thinking about how hurt you looked when he was mean to you earlier. Fuck. It’s worth it, though. He can’t keep letting you get under his skin. If Alicia even suspected there was someone he-- nope. Fuck that train of thought. Diego does not catch feelings. He fucks. And parties. And occasionally hurts people for fun. That’s it.

He thinks about fucking Ángel asking questions about you last night. Insinuating. Had he really been so transparent? That motherfucker won’t be talking again...ever. But he needs to end this anyway.

And now he’s got the queen of all buzzkills to help him get yo off his mind. Fucking hooray.

She swans through his penthouse, looking around critically as if she’s inspecting the housekeeping. Diego feels a flare of anger on your behalf. But when she finally gets around to the purpose of her visit it’s a familiar criticism.

“You’re having too many parties, Diego. You need to fucking calm down for a while. Too many people in and out of this place. Who screens these people? Who knows who they go and talk to afterwards? Do you understand me?”

Diego’s phone vibrates from inside his pocket but he ignores it. 

“I screen them, Alicia,” he responds stonily. She has no faith in him. 

“Diego, I’m not asking. I’m telling. Cool it for a while.”

She leaves and Diego stalks into his bedroom like a sullen teen. Fucking bitch.

***

You’ve sent Diego about twenty text messages and he’s still not here. It’s been about an hour since you realized you were trapped and you’re just curled up on the ground clutching your phone to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut. Imagine you’re someplace safe. Ugh! Your mind decides to supply you with an image of Diego’s stupid face. Diego who is ignoring your texts because he’s mad at you for no reason?

Finally, the door slams open and you hear his voice call your name. You’re too far gone to even look up. He rushes over and wraps his arms around you, holding you to his chest and pressing soft kisses into your hair. A faint voice inside pipes up and says you should try to enjoy this feeling while it lasts. A louder voice is still wailing, Danger! Danger! Danger!

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers, tucking his arms underneath you and picking you up in one swift motion. Ugh, first time in your life getting carried bridal-style by a guy strong enough to lift your dead weight ass and you’re basically incoherent. You cling to his shoulders with bruising force until you’re back in the safety of the stairwell. 

When he finally gets you back into the penthouse you nearly sob with relief. You never thought you’d feel so safe in this place. He tucks you into the leather couch and leaves to dash up to his bedroom, returning with the massive coverlet stripped from his bed. He wraps you in it, cocooning you in the rich fabric until you feel like a safe little burrito. He’s so attentive and considerate. So...not Diego. He tucks the blanket around you and then just kneels there next to you, watching your tear streaked face as you take everything in.

How are you supposed to deal with this? Earlier he was so cruel and now he’s acting all...sweet and caring. You have whiplash from his mood swings. You decide you don’t need to deal with anything right now except calming down and feeling better. You lay your head back against the armrest and close your eyes, steadying your breathing.

Diego stares down at you. He’s still feeling the aftereffects of the fear that had gripped him when he finally glanced at his phone and saw all of your increasingly panicked text messages. How could he ask you to go up there when he knows how scared you are of heights? He’d been selfish and juvenile. Everything Alicia thinks of him is true. He scowls in self disgust and clenches his fists in his hair. So stupid!

You open your eyes to see Diego’s anguished expression and you feel every ounce of anger and betrayal bleed out of your system. You lift a hand to cup his cheek and whisper, “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Diego frowns and answers, “The next time I ask you to do something like that. Tell me no. Okay? You...you don’t have to do whatever I tell you. You’re…”

Different...special...beautiful...innocent...good…

But he can’t say the words. Of course he can’t. Instead he leans down and presses his lips to yours, kissing you with all of the grace and gentleness you’ve never seen him give to any of his lovers. 

When he pulls away you can already see the seed of regret and denial in his eyes but you choose to ignore it for now.

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