#also i figured out some tricks for the magazine look i talked about last time: desaturate shadows and lower contrast

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[loubrary]

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Headcanons: You’re new in town and help Billy become a better person.

Warnings: mentions of violence and homophobia, hints of smut.

A/N: This doesn’t really follows the ST timeline but who cares about canon or accuracy, am I right?

[ Masterlist ]

Your parents move you a lot due to their jobs, they’re always researching something in some strange corner of the world. You can’t understand how you went from living in South America for the last six months to living in middle-of-nowhere Hawkins Indiana.

You’re out to your parents, and they’re very supportive. You consider yourself lucky, they’re very modern and open-minded people.

The kids at your new school don’t know what to make of you with your different clothes, hair and accent. Some of the teachers are fascinated to learn of the places you’ve been to. 

When you met Robin your gaydars went off and you’re both excited to have a Fellow Gay in town. She introduces you to her friend Steve and the three of you become very close. Soon you are also helping Steve take care of his kids.

Billy hears of this strange new kid and goes to look for him to show him who owns this school. When Billy sees you he is enthralled, the world stops and all he sees is you, he feels a strange sensation inside, and he hates it.

In the days that follow, Billy makes his moves. He is mean to you, calls you names. He tries to intimidate you and scare you. But you’ve dealt with his type many times before and you have some tricks up your sleeve. 

Billy hates that you don’t react to his taunting. You just smile and laugh.

“F*g!”

“You too?! Wanna go on a date, darling? Bad boys with pretty hair are totally my type, Hargrove.”

His words don’t work, so he changes his tactics. 

You’re walking through an empty hallway when he attempts to grab you and slam you against the wall. Only to find himself on the floor completely immobilized. He had no clue you had trained in various martial arts. 

Putting the pain aside, Billy is turned on by the feeling of being dominated, he feels himself hardening against the cold floor. 

You lean down and whisper in his ear, “think twice before daring to touch me, pretty boy.” You let him go. 

One side of him wants to fight but when he sees the determination and fearlessness in your eyes he backs down. “This isn’t over,” he huffs and leaves stomping the floor.

Billy leaves you alone after that. He only glares at you and curses at you under his breath. He hates that he can’t stop thinking about that day. He hates that he enjoyed being under your control. He hates how he can only cum to images of you. But at this exact moment he hates seeing you with Steve laughing. 

You feel his eyes on you, how they follow you as you move. When you face him his face hardens and his fists clench, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t decipher. 

One day you’re alone in the showers, or so you think. You turn and see Billy checking you out from the other side, completely frozen. You notice his hard-on and his eyes open wide. He thinks you’ll say something but you just smile and wink at him. He leaves hurriedly trying to control himself. 

That confirms your suspicions and you know what is up with Billy. You’ve met guys with internalized homophobia, but never like Billy.

After that, teasing Billy becomes one of your favourite activities. You pay him visits at the pool, making sure he gets a nice view of you. You notice when he covers his lap with his magazine, and tries to focus on something else. 

“Why do we come to the public pool? We both have pools at home,” Steve complains. Robin laughs at the clueless boy, and proceeds to explain the situation.

One day Billy finds you alone and he attempts to make a move on you. He was so confident believing you’d accept his advances. 

“I’m not some desperate lonely gay boy, Billy. I don’t bend over for any hot guy that offers me his dick.” “So you think I’m hot?” He smirks. You scoff leaving him there.

Billy hates that you rejected him. How is it possible? He thinks of the guys he tormented and then fucked back in California, how easy they fell to their knees for him. 

Billy has never met a gay guy as confident and unafraid as you. Deep inside he feels jealous and admiration for you. He secretly wishes he could be as open and be free as you.

You get paired for a project, you are prepared to do all the work and let him take part of the credit. You’re shocked when he asks if you want to get together to work on the project. You’re even more shocked when you learn that he actually understands the material and is quite smart. 

Against your better judgement you invite him to your place. You’re surprised he shows up on time.

When he greets your parents, it’s like he’s a completely different person. He laughs at your dad’s jokes, compliments your mom, and even asks about what they are working on.

Billy is even more jealous of you when he sees how loving and caring your parents are, how happy and peaceful your home life is. 

The second time he comes over he has to excuse himself and go to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and calm down. All he can think of is everything you have that he doesn’t.

He finds you and your parents sitting tightly together as your mother reads a book out loud in french for you and your dad. 

“Sit down honey, I’ll translate for you,” your mother says. 

By the fourth day he accepts your parents’ invitation to stay for dinner. He has fun, he’s fascinated by your parents’ stories and their research work. 

You get a glimpse of the real Billy and can’t help but smile. 

One day during dinner your mother talks about your exes trying to embarrass you, and asks Billy if there’s a special boy in his life.

Billy’s breath hitches and starts to sweat. He stands up quickly bumping into the table, saying he has to leave. 

Your mom tries to apologise and your dad asks him to stay. 

You follow him outside the house. “Billy, wait!” 

He turns around to face you and his eyes are red as he tries to hold in the tears. “Hey, it’s all—“ “I’m not a... I’m not.” he grunts before getting in his car and speeding off. 

Billy parks somewhere secluded and hits the steering wheel with his fists, he cries and yells in anger. He’s angry, sad, jealous. 

He cries for his mom, for a life he wishes he had, for the love and support he yearns for. 

Billy returns the following week to finish the project. He plans to just focus on the project, finish it and never return. 

Your mom answers the door. “So good to see you, love, we’ve missed you,” she says warmly rubbing his arm, “sorry about the other day”. He almost doesn’t hear the last sentence, he hasn’t heard those words or felt that way in a long time. Someone being happy to see him, missing him, calling him love. 

Your dad greets him and calls him son, and asks him to join him later in the study to show him their latest findings. 

You and Billy don’t talk about what happened. You focus on your project.

“Have you always been out to your parents?” Billy blurts out.

You decide to be honest. “Yeah, they sort of figured it out when I was little.” You tell him how growing up you met all kinds of people through your parents. You tell him about your parents’ gay friends that you call uncles and aunts. Telling him how you always felt free to be yourself with your parents even though you know the world is cruel and unaccepting. 

After a moment of silence Billy speaks. He talks about the only openly gay person he ever met, a friend of his mom back in California. He tells you about how his father hated his mom’s friend and got in fights with his mom about it. 

He tells you about his dad, how aggressive and angry he is. He doesn’t tell you about the physical abuse. He went on about how unhappy he was, and how different your lives were. 

You start to see why Billy acts the way he does. Bullying others is his way to feel he is in control.

“How do you do it?” 

“What?” 

“Being gay like that, you don’t hide.” 

“We only live once, I’m not gonna let a world full of bigots tell me I can’t be myself and be happy.” You pause. ”Billy? You can always be yourself here.”

After you finish your project, Billy keeps coming to your place to hang out. 

He’s more relaxed and tones down the attitude. He even starts being nice to Max.

He’s still the bad boy to everyone else, but when he enters your home all that stays outside.

You learn more about the real Billy. How he likes science and music. How curious he is. How funny he can be. And you slowly start to fall for this Billy.

One day Billy and you are in the living room listening to music lying on the carpet and giggling when your mom comes in. “Honey, your friends are here.”

You both look up and see a shocked Steve and the kids, and a grinning Robin. Max is especially shocked by the whole scene.

“Oh hey guys, you know Billy, right? We’re just listening to this new album.”

Billy panics, and stands up to escape, “I have to go.” You understand, not wanting to force him into anything. 

The others sit down looking suspiciously at Billy as he leaves. Billy avoids all eye contact. “What did I get himself into?” Billy thinks. 

Meanwhile Robin and you have each other’s arm over your shoulders as you sing dramatically.

“Is anyone going to talk about how you were on the floor giggling with Billy Hargrove?” Mike asks. 

One rainy night, Billy is driving to your house. His eyes sting, his knuckles turn white gripping the wheel. He feels his cheek and eye starting to swell. He stays on the driveway debating on what to do. He sees your bedroom light on and goes to ring the bell hoping that you open the door.

It’s your mom that opens the door. “Billy? Come on in, love, you’re soaking wet.” When he steps into the lit hallway your mom finally sees his face. “Oh my god, sweetheart. What happened?” 

“Who is it darling? Oh Billy!  Are you okay, son?” Your dad asks him.

Billy wants to lie, he had this planned, he would have said how he got into a fight with another guy and didn’t want to go home looking like that. “I got—I...” he tries. But he can’t keep it in anymore. “It was... My—my dad...” he chokes as he lets out a cry. 

He feels two sets of arms engulf him, and he lets is all out. He cries like he’s never cried before. He thinks he hears your name being called. He hears your parents’ voices, encouraging and supportive words he can barely make up. He cries even more when he think of how these people that he met not long ago care more about him than his own father. 

You find your parents consoling Billy. Your mom is holding him while your dad rubs circles on his back. And Billy holds on to them like his life depends on it.“Billy?” He looks up to you and you see his broken face, all the pain and suffering he has endured and your heart breaks for him. 

You help him get up and walk him to the living room. Your dad goes to prepare the guest room and your mother prepares some tea. Billy is curled into a ball under a blanker with his head on your lap. You run your hand through his hair as you rub his arm comfortingly. 

When he calms down, he starts telling you of everything his dad has done. All the punches, the bruises, the hurtful words. 

Later you take him to the guest room, you help him get his clothes off and rub some medicine over his bruises. 

“Can you stay with me?” 

“Of course.”

You hold him close, his face pressed on your chest. 

For the first time in a long while Billy sleeps peacefully.

After that day your parents take action, they’re on the phone with their lawyers, looking at how they can help Billy and Max.

Your parents help him get custody of Max. 

The both of them move in with your family. 

“Can’t believe you’re taking me to live with your boyfriend,” Max tells him. “He’s just a friend,” he groans. “Yeah, right.”

That night Billy is in your bed as you read to him, his head on your lap. “Thank you,” he says pulling your book down to look at you. “What for?” You ask, running a hand through his hair. “For saving me, and Max.” You smile and kiss his forehead and continue with the story.

In the morning you wake up to Billy facing you, looking at you and he smiles. 

“You okay?” He nods and reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as he scoots closer to you.

You move a loose strand of hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek, feeling how soft his skin is. 

You two stay like that for a while just enjoying each other’s warmth in silence, playing with your hands and looking into other’s eyes. Neither of you can’t stop smiling. 

“I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Billy.”

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

What Happens When You Dream? - Bakugou Katsuki - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: NSFW 18+ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader (Implied Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi), Aged up (College), Quirkless AU. Words: 8,624 Warnings: swearing, oral (male receiving), ghosts, hauntings, brief mention of violence, horror movie references, witchy things, Bakugou bad mouths the occult and witches but I do not share his views on the matter. This is probably unnecessary but it should go without saying that seances are no joke and you shouldn’t preform one unless you know what you’re doing (which I certainly do NOT). I pulled what is said off of a damn WikiHow so don’t try this at home. AN: Another collab piece for the BNHarem server! Have some Halloween Bakugou! This came out softer than I imagined it would but I just enjoy writing him as a sarcastic grump. Also, I didn’t mean to put in the Shinkami but it happened so we’re rolling with it.  I honestly don’t know what this is but I hope you enjoy it! Please check out the Masterlist for this collab HERE My Masterlist is HERE Buy me a KoFi HERE --

Every night, you dream at least ten dreams a night Do you remember the dreams? If you do, you're well on your way To having some fantastic times when you close your eyes. - Bring Me The Horizon - Steal Something

Bakugou lugged the last box up the porch steps and into the house, bypassing the living area and depositing it on the kitchen counter. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he surveyed the mess around him.

God, he hated moving.

“That’s the last of it?” Kirishima asked as he entered the kitchen behind him. “I’m so tired already.”

Bakugou just grunted in response, turning around to walk back outside and close up the moving truck. It was still early in the day, so they had plenty of time to start unpacking and get the house into some sense of livability before they needed to return the vehicle, and he wanted to get as much done as he could while he still had the energy.

Kirishima was on the phone when he came back inside, chattering happily as he leaned against the counter. When he hung up, he grinned. “The squad is going to come by and help!”

Ignoring the stupid nickname they’d adopted for their friend group, Bakugou shot the redhead a look. “You mean they’re going to come here and fucking distract you.”

“No! Mina hasn’t seen the place yet, and Denki promised to bring food. They want to help us unpack!”

Bakugou snorted. “Sure. Whatever. Just tell them to stay out of my way.” He walked over to a box labeled “dishes” and got to work, unwrapping the newspaper from around them and placing them on the counter.

Kirishima left him alone to move the furniture around in the living room and, presumably, hook up the TV. He let his mind wander, thinking about how they’d ended up finding this place. It was in a little suburban neighborhood, a park across the street with an excellent path for his morning runs, a convenience store around the corner for Kirishima’s late-night beef jerky cravings, a short walk to the train station, and three stops away from their university. 

Rooming with Kirishima was a given, too. He was the only one Bakugou could tolerate for long periods, and he knew how to handle Bakugou’s erratic moods. He didn’t push too hard, gave him space when he needed it, and was moderately neat. Bakugou knew if he’d roomed with someone like Kaminari, he’d spend the rest of his life in a jail cell, so Kirishima was the safe option.

It helped that they were going to the same school, even though they had completely opposite majors. Bakugou was studying physics, and Kirishima was going for sports education. Sometimes he pictured Kirishima as a school gym teacher, and it made him roll his eyes. He’d be perfect for something like that. 

One day Bakugou would be a nuclear physicist and win a Nobel prize. That was the goal, anyway. Number one in his field, his face on the cover of Time magazine, everyone would know his name some day. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching the top.

He had nearly finished unpacking the dishes when Sero walked into the kitchen carrying bags of snacks and soda. Kaminari followed behind him and dropped three pizza boxes on the island in the middle of the room and shot Bakugou a funny look. “Mina is scared to come inside.”

Snorting, he raised his eyebrow. “What?”

“She says she’s got a bad vibe, dude. I don’t know.” Sero shrugged. “You’re the most logical one, maybe you can get her to come in. Kiri’s trying and failing, man.”

Grumbling under his breath, wondering why he even bothered with these idiots, Bakugou stomped out of the room to see Kirishima leaning in the frame of the front door and talking to someone out on the porch.

“...been here all day, Mina. Nothing weird has happened.” 

“Oi, Raccoon Eyes, what’s your problem?” He shoved Kirishima out of the way to get a look at the girl, his eyebrows furrowed.

She looked nervous, her eyes flitting to the windows up on the second floor, her hands clasped in front of her. “I don’t know, Bakugou. Something just doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. “What are you even talking about?”

“Mina’s always been sensitive to energies and stuff, Bakubro,” Sero said from somewhere behind him. “She burned sage at my apartment when I moved in because she said something felt off.”

He vaguely remembered that Ashido had always been into some weird shit; Ouiji boards and hypnosis, tarot cards and reading people’s auras. Bakugou didn’t believe in that hippy dippy shit, especially being a man of science, but if it ended this dumb standoff on his front porch, he’d let her do whatever. 

Wrinkling his nose, he sighed. “If I let you burn that nasty shit in here, will you come inside?” 

“It might help…” trailing off, she stepped back. “I can just tell that something bad happened here. You don’t feel anything?”

“Fuck no.” 

“It just feels...sad.” Mina shivered, frowning.

“That’s because I haven’t hung up my Crimson Riot posters yet.” Kiri gave Mina a placating smile, stepping forward and placing his hand on her shoulder. “Let me take you to the store to get what you need, huh? We can talk about it in the car.”

Mina looked like she wanted to get as far away from the house as possible as quickly as possible, so she nodded.

Sero handed Kirishima his keys, since he was parked behind Kiri’s dumb ass truck, and the two of them headed out. Bakugou went back inside to finish the rest of his unpacking, slightly annoyed by the whole situation.

“What do you think it is?” Kaminari asked, opening the top pizza box and grabbing a slice. “I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“Maybe there’s a ghost here or something.” Sero chuckled. “Maybe you’ll open up a closet door somewhere upstairs and there will be a portal to the other side.” He wiggled his fingers at Kaminari, laughing. “Carol Ann, go into the light!”

“Idiots. There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Bakugou slammed the cabinet shut after he’d loaded in the last of the glasses. “She’s just being weird, as usual.”

“Hey, man. Don’t be like that.” Licking grease off his thumb (like a heathen, Bakugou thought), Kaminari fixed him with a look. “She looked genuinely terrified. It’s nice of you to let her burn the sage though. It’ll give her peace of mind.”

“Smells awful, though. But she says it worked at my place.” Sero added.

Bakugou had had enough of the conversation, so he just grunted in response, turning and leaving the room. 

He figured it was time to set up his bedroom, that way he didn’t have to worry about it later that night. Plus, it would get him away from dumb and dumber and Kaminari’s inability to use a napkin like a normal human being.

--

Later on, after Mina made the entire house smell like burnt ass, Kirishima took Kaminari with him to return the moving truck, Sero following behind him in his car. Mina stayed with Bakugou in his room as he put together his bookshelf, sitting quietly and making herself useful by unpacking his books and stacking them by author so he could arrange them when he was done. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but her silence was irking him. She was never this quiet.

“What’s your problem?” He asked gruffly, frowning at the allen key in his hand as he twisted a screw into the base of the bookshelf.

He glanced up when she sighed, her body moving to lean against the bed, her head falling back so her gaze was fixed on the ceiling. “Nothing. I just feel like the sage didn’t work.” 

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Why should it? That stuff isn’t real anyway.”

“It is so!” He saw her glare at him from his peripheral. “You shouldn’t dismiss it so quickly.”

“I’m a science major, idiot.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate further.

“So?”

“So, what? Science can explain away all of the so called phenomena that people like to believe are ghosts. There is no scientific proof that ghosts exist. All of the things that people attribute to hauntings are hallucinations are tricks that your mind plays on you. It’s all in your head.” He stood up, lifting the finished bookshelf to stand beside him. “Besides, you’ve been here all day and nothing bad has happened, has it?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Mina bit her bottom lip. “Well, no. It’s just...it feels anxious and sad in here? So it’s not that I expect anything bad to happen, really. It’s just uncomfortable.” 

Choosing not to comment further, Bakugou pushed the bookcase up against the wall, picking up the drill nearby so he could anchor it into the sheetrock.

When he was done drilling, she continued. “You shouldn’t shit all over my beliefs, either. It’s not nice.”

“Since when have you ever known me to be nice?” He pointed at one of her stacks. “Give me the A’s.”

“Fair point.” Mina stood, picking up a few books from the first stack and handing them to him. “Just do me a favor and be careful. If anything weird happens, let me know, okay?”

Bakugou bit back a groan. “Will it shut you up about it if I agree?” She nodded. “Fine. I’ll let you know if you need to call an old priest and a young priest to perform an exorcism, okay?”

Mina snorted at that, handing him another set of books. “Okay, good.”

--

Bakugou blinked sleepy, pressing his face into his pillow and breathing deeply. Waking up in a new room was disorienting, the light from the window hitting his face in a way he wasn’t used to. He sighed, closing his eyes again, annoyed that he’d woken before his alarm went off. 

He was just convincing himself to go back to sleep until it was time to get up when a soft groan from beside him made him pause, his eyes flying open at the sound. Turning his head, his mouth went dry at the sight of you laying beside him, your hair strewn over the pillow next to his, bare shoulders peeking out from underneath the covers.

Mind racing, he tried to remember who you were and what had led to you sleeping in his bed beside him. The last thing he could recall was shuffling off to bed early as usual, leaving his friends in the living room, the group of them laying haphazardly across the couches as they watched a movie. 

He hadn’t gone out or drank anything, so there was no way he could have met you at a bar. It’d be easier to explain that way, because he was no stranger to drunken one night stands. 

Opening his mouth to ask you what the fuck you were doing in his bed, the words were stuck in his throat when you turned around to gaze sleepily at him.

You were pretty, even with the sleep in your eyes and your unruly bedhead. Your smile was what made him pause, heart stopping and beautiful.

“Morning, Katsu.” You sighed, burrowing your face into his chest.

“What the fuck?” He managed, scooting away and frowning. “Who are you?”

“Ah, the million dollar question.” Giggling, you sat up, one arm moving to keep the sheet covering your obviously bare chest. “Normally I’d be offended that you don’t know it, but, it’s par for the course.” 

“How did you-”

“Get here? Through the front door, just like anyone else.” Shaking your head, you used your free hand to rub at your eyes. “I’m not really sure how this works, honestly. Maybe we just need to try again later.” You frowned, shrugging your shoulders and changing the subject. “You’re very warm, you know that?”

Frustration bubbled up in his chest. Why couldn’t you just answer his questions the way he meant them?

Before he could press further, you yawned, turning and shuffling to the edge of the bed. He watched in silence as you stood, his gaze lingering on your naked backside as you pulled on a pair of panties. He was quiet as you dressed, watching your movements and racking his brain, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Turning to look over at him again, you smiled. “Well, guess I should get out of your hair.”

Your cryptic words left him floundering, his eyes widening as you headed for the bedroom door. “Where the fuck are you going?”

Pausing, you turned to speak to him over your shoulder. “Time’s up. Your alarm is about to go off.”

Eyebrows furrowed, he watched as you opened the door and walked over the threshold. 

The blaring of his alarm startled him into a sitting position, his chest tight as he gasped for breath. What the fuck?

“A dream.” He grumbled, lying back down, his arm reaching out to smack the snooze button on the top of his clock. 

Rubbing his face tiredly, he groaned. It was very rare that he dreamt anything at all, so the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He had no idea who you were, he couldn’t remember ever seeing your face before, so he wasn’t sure why his mind had conjured you up to be the one in his bed.

He remembered reading an article once about dreams, and how it was impossible for your brain to make up people’s faces. It was believed that faces you have seen in passing in a crowd, even those you didn’t consciously look at, were stored somewhere in your memory, and could be brought forth in your mind in a dream. Maybe that’s where you’d come from.

He sighed, shifting in bed until his feet were on the floor, turning off his alarm for good and standing up. Stretching, he decided to forget all about you, focusing on the day ahead. He didn’t have time to dwell on dumb shit like dreams. He blamed it on his mind trying to get used to being in a new place, and left it behind him. 

--

“We really have to stop meeting like this, handsome.”

Bakugou opened his eyes, squinting over at you as you lay beside him, your head propped up on your hand. This was the fourth day in a row, and he was getting tired of it already.

“Again? What the fuck.” He slumped back onto the pillow below him. “Why the hell do I keep dreaming about you? I don’t even know you.”

You giggled, shrugging. “Kirishima sleeps like the dead, so you were my only option.”

“What does that mean? I’m getting tired of your cryptic bullshit, shitty woman.”

“Hey, you don’t need to call me names, Katsu.”

Growling, he sat up. “Well, you won’t tell me your real one, so I have to be creative.” He paused. “And how do you know my name? I don’t even let my hair for brains roommate call me that, and we’ve known each other since we were 16.”

“I figured you wouldn’t mind. I can just call you Bakugou if it makes you more comfortable.” 

“None of this makes me comfortable, you idiot. I don’t even understand what’s going on here.” He was tired. Ever since he’d started dreaming of you he woke up feeling like he’d barely gotten any rest, and it was grating on his nerves. “Why can’t you ever just be straight with me?”

Shrugging, you made yourself more comfortable in his blankets. He jolted when he felt your cold toes press against his calf. “It’s more fun this way, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, maybe for you.” He let himself lay back beside you, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “Have we met before?”

Humming thoughtfully, you snuggled up against him again, your fingers ghosting patterns across his bare chest. “Nope. Kind of wish we had though. You’re pretty cute.”

Huffing through his nose, he ignored the fact that he didn’t shy away from your touch like he usually did. “I’m not fucking cute.” Secretly, he liked the praise.

“Would you rather me tell you that you’re hot?” You peered up at him, smirking. 

“Fuck you.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Hm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The thought had crossed his mind once or twice. The fact that he always woke up in these dreams naked next to you wasn’t helping the matter. “You wish.”

The grin you shot him was almost sinister, and he felt his cock stir beneath the blankets.

What the ever loving fuck.

Almost as if you knew what he was thinking, you pressed against him, your lips brushing against his ear. “Wish we had more time, Katsuki, but your alarm is about to go off again.”

Bakugou shot up in bed, his heart racing and skin damp with sweat, a shiver racing down his spine. He could still feel your warm breath on his ear, like you’d just pulled away. 

When he looked over, he was alone. 

—

“You been sleeping okay, Bakubro?” Kirishima asked him from the doorway to the kitchen, his ridiculously bulky arms crossed over his equally ridiculous chest. 

Bakugou looked up from his toast, his head aching. “Like fuck I have.” 

His friend raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like hell, dude. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

“Fuck you.” Sighing, he dropped his toast on his plate, wiping his hand on his napkin and hunching over. “I keep having these weird dreams.” He paused, turning to look at the redhead. “What about you?”

“Me?” Kirishima pushed off the door and walked to the fridge, wrenching open the door and pulling out a carton of orange juice. “I’ve been sleeping fine. Best sleep I’ve had in a while actually. It’s nice not having all the campus noises around and stuff, you know?”

“Kirishima sleeps like the dead, so you were my only option.” Your words rattled around in his brain, and he frowned. 

“I don’t know, dude. I think you’re overworking yourself.”

Bakugou growled. “I’m trying to land that internship. I don’t have time to be a lazy asshole.”

“Hey, I’m not lazy!”

“I didn’t say you were. Guilty conscience?” He couldn’t help the smirk that curled onto his face.

Kirishima took a sip of juice straight from the carton, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done. “Shut up.” He grinned, his shark teeth on display. “You should take a day off, maybe. Or just, don’t study all day on Saturday and hang out with me! The squad is coming by for a barbeque. Maybe it’ll help if you just relax.”

He made a disgusted face when Kirishima put the carton of orange juice back in the fridge, making a mental note to buy a new one. Gross. “Being around you idiots will just stress me out some more.” He finished his toast, standing up to put his dish in the sink. “I’ve got a late lab tonight, so order some takeout.”

“You got it, man.” Kirishima grabbed his shoulder as he passed him. “Hey, think about Saturday, okay? I’m kinda worried about you.”

Shrugging him off, Bakugou nodded. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll think about it.”

—

Things progressed in mostly the same way for the remainder of the week. He got up, went to school, stayed late in the lab working on his project for the internship interview, and collapsed into bed when he got home. 

When he closed his eyes, he was back in that dream with you by his side. 

He liked to make you laugh, and it didn’t seem hard to do. You got a kick out of his shitty attitude for some reason, and you liked to listen to stories about his dumb friends. You seemed particularly fond of Kaminari, mentioning you knew someone that would probably like him. You seemed more morose than usual when you talked about your friend, and when he asked why, you just shrugged and said you hadn’t seen him in a while.

“So you aren’t just a figment of my imagination?” Bakugou asked, folding his arms behind his head.

You shook your head, your hair brushing his chin as you laid on his chest. He’d gotten used to the cuddling, and though he enjoyed it, he’d never mention that out loud.

“Of course I’m not, Katsu.” Sighing, you tilted your head to look up at him. “Man, you’re taking way too long to figure this out.”

“You’re not very forthcoming with information about yourself, idiot.” He grumbled, annoyed. “What’s your friend’s name, anyway?”

“Shinsou Hitoshi.” You grinned, a faraway look in your eyes. “He’s my best friend. I kind of miss him.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“Can’t. It’s fine though.” You sat up further, hovering over him. “Maybe you could get him to meet Kaminari. He needs a little sunshine in his life. He used to work at that cat café over by the university. Bet he’s still there.”

“Cat café?” Bakugou wracked his brain. “Next to that udon place?”

“That’s the one. He’s got purple hair, you literally can’t miss him.” 

Bakugou snorted. He didn’t give two shits about his blonde friend and his love life. But if this Shinsou guy knew you, maybe he could get some answers. 

—

“Since when do you like cats?” Kaminari asked, falling into step beside him.

Bakugou was regretting his entire existence as he walked, wishing he didn’t give enough of a shit to find out more about you. Kaminari had been chattering beside him non-stop the entire train ride over, wondering why Bakugou was insisting on visiting the café and why he had to be the one to accompany him.

“I’ve always liked cats. Just shut up, dunceface.” Huffing, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He was unsure how he was even going to talk to this Shinsou guy, what he was going to say. “Hi, you don’t know me but I think I’m having dreams about your friend?”

“Mauhaus Cat Café?” Kaminari giggled, breaking Bakugou out of his thoughts. “If this place isn’t full of hot goth boys I don’t want any part of it.”

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou opened the door and let Kaminari walk in first. Standing behind the counter looking half asleep and thoroughly done with life stood a man with purple hair. 

“Oh, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Kaminari stopped and stared, and Bakugou nearly walked into his back.

“Oi, idiot, come on.” Grumbling about his friend under his breath, he pushed him further inside, neck craning back to read the neat chalkboard menu over the coffee machines. 

Kaminari, on the other hand, shook his head and waltzed up to the counter, a bright smile on his face. “Hey there, tall, dark, and handsome.”

Amethyst eyes gazed at Kaminari, his facial expression flat. “Oh joy, a loud blonde.”

Bakugou snorted. “Are you Shinsou Hitoshi?”

The man stood up straighter and covered his nametag with his hand. “That depends on who’s asking.”

Kaminari, being Kaminari, grinned a little wider. “I’m Kaminari Denki, and I think I love you.”

Shinsou blinked at him, his eyes alight with amusement. “Oh yeah?” Bakugou saw him glance down at the leather choker on Kaminari’s neck, before his eyes flicked back up to his face.

They’d known each other for two seconds and they were already eye fucking. Wonderful.

“Trust me on this, dude. You and I are going to get along great.” Kaminari turned to Bakugou. “Why have you been hiding this gorgeous boy from me, Bakugou? I thought we were friends.”

“We’re not. Now go away.” He pointed to a brindle colored cat sitting on a table on the far side of the room. “Go pet a cat or something.”

“Oh! Look how pretty!” Kaminari wandered away, not before throwing Shinsou a wink over his shoulder and biting his lip in a way he probably thought was sultry.

Shinsou seemed to be eating it up, but he was a bit more subtle. Bakugou almost felt bad for the guy, before he remembered that he didn’t care.

“How do you know my name?” Shinsou asked, tearing his eyes away from Kaminari. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

Nodding, he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. “No, we’ve never met. A friend of yours told me about you, and I just...I wanted to ask you something.” Frowning, he pushed on, knowing how weird he was about to sound. “She said you were her best friend.”

Shinsou snorted. “I don’t really have any friends, man. Who was it?”

“That’s just it...I don’t know her name.”

“Okay, but she told you mine? That doesn’t really add up.” Shinsou’s eyes narrowed. “What does she look like?”

Bakugou described you, cutting himself off when he noticed how pale Shinsou suddenly looked. The slight look of horror on his face turned to anger so fast that Bakugou got whiplash.

“Do you think this is funny or something, asshole?” Shinsou’s voice was low and dangerous. “Get the fuck out of my shop before I kick the shit out of you.”

“What? What the fuck is your problem?” Bakugou was always quick to anger, but he especially didn’t like being threatened. 

Kaminari must have sensed that things were about to go south, because he appeared at Bakugou’s side a moment later. “Is everything okay?”

“You think this is some kind of joke? Like I don’t miss her and think about her every day? Like I don’t blame myself for what happened?” Shinsou’s deep voice cracked slightly at the end of his question, and Bakugou was horrified to see tears starting to gather in his eyes.

“What are you even talking about? Who is she?” He was starting to get really frustrated.

Shinsou moved to round the counter. “Fuck you, man. Get the fuck-” 

“Bakugou, who are you talking about?” Kaminari turned to Shinsou, his palm pressing gently to his chest to stop him from reaching Bakugou. “What’s going on?”

“Your friend here thinks it’s funny to come into my shop and rub my best friend’s death in my face.”

Bakugou choked on his own spit. “Death?”

Kaminari looked between the two of them in confusion. “Bakugou?”

He didn’t want to do this in front of Kaminari, but he had no choice. “I’ve been having dreams! Ever since we moved into the house…” Trailing off, he stared at Shinsou. “I didn’t know she - how is this even possible?”

“So, Shinsou’s best friend has been visiting your dreams, and she’s...no longer with us. She told you about Shinsou, so you came here to find out more?” Kaminari summarized, letting his hand drop from Shinsou’s chest when he noticed he wasn’t struggling anymore.

Bakugou just nodded, his fists clenched at his sides. 

“What house?” Shinsou asked. “Is she…”

Bakugou told him the address and Shinsou practically crumpled in on himself, his breath coming out in short pants. Kaminari had enough sense to guide him over to a nearby table and sit him down on a chair. Bakugou was glad the shop was empty.

Somehow completely level headed in this brief moment of crisis, Kaminari went around the shop counter and came back with a cup of water for Shinsou. He then pushed Bakugou, who was still standing frozen in front of the register, into the chair across from Shinsou, and then pulled up his own chair. “Shinsou, hey. Can you tell us about her?”

--

Heart pounding, Bakugou woke up in a dream. 

This was different.

Instead of waking up to you lying beside him, looking disheveled but beautiful as you teased him and held the blankets over your naked chest…

He was sweating, breath coming in short pants, his fingers tangled in someone’s hair, wet heat surrounding his cock.

Bakugou’s eyes flew open, taking in the white ceiling of his bedroom. He let his gaze travel down, the dark comforter on his bed hiding the identity of the person between his legs.

He didn’t need to see them to know who it was.

You hummed around him and his toes curled. He should definitely be freaking out right now, kicking you off of him and flying from the bed to the other side of the room, hiding his modesty as he screeched at you.

But then you did this thing with your tongue that he couldn’t even begin to describe and his eyes rolled back. It had been a while, he reasoned. He was too preoccupied with school and moving and not sleeping right to take care of it himself. 

Letting his fingers card through your hair, he tugged, reveling in the groan that left your throat and shot right through him. He rocked his hips in time with your bobbing mouth, biting down on his bottom lip to hold back his moans.

He felt himself getting close, eyes fluttering shut again as he let himself get lost in the moment. Later, he would contemplate how easily he accepted what you were doing, but for now, he was going to enjoy every second of it.

“Y/N…” He groaned, pushing his head back into the pillows. 

All at once, your mouth was off of him, and he felt the blanket fly off of his body, exposing his hard and aching cock to the cool air.

“What!?” Your voice was wrecked, but he was too keyed up to pay much attention.

Popping his eyes open, he groaned and sat up on his elbows. “What the fuck, shitty woman? I was about to come.”

“How do you know my name?”

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. He remembered where he was, who you were, what you were. “Fuck. What the fuck?”

“Learn another word, Katsuki. Jesus Christ.” You were still kneeling between his legs, your hand resting on his thigh. “How did you find out my name?”

Flopping back against the pillow again, he rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. “I met Shinsou today.” His dick was still so hard that it hurt, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t be helping him take care of the problem anymore.

You were quiet, so he peeked through his fingers, frowning. You were crying silently, tears sliding down your cheeks. “He told you?”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He said finally, letting his hands drop from his face. He didn’t know why he was being so nice. Usually he’d tell someone who cried in front of him to suck it up, but it felt wrong to give you a hard time. Sighing, he threw his arm out to the side. “Come here.”

You sniffled again, climbing over his leg and settling on the bed beside him, your head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you. “I’m sorry, Katsuki.”

“For what? Don’t apologize.” He grunted. “But later we’re going to have a conversation about what was going on when I got here.”

“That’s the first time you were you during it, I think.” Your voice was rough, and you sniffled loudly when you were done speaking.

“What does that even mean?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, that’s happened more than once? What the hell?”

Giggling, you nodded. “What, do you think I just get naked and climb into bed with you every time?” He huffed, and you continued. “It’s like...it’s you of course, but it’s like all of a sudden something clicks.” You snapped your fingers. “I’m not sure if I’m just tapping into your fantasies or what…”

He could feel the blush heating up his cheeks and he hated it, so he chose not to comment. 

“Usually I come in and you’re waiting for me, we get naked, then we fuck, then we cuddle, and that’s when you get here.”

“Tch. No way. I don’t cuddle.” Scoffing, he tightened his grip around you. 

This time you snorted a laugh, your hand sliding over his stomach as you got more comfortable. “Oh? You do with me, teddy bear.”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t call me that.” He shivered. “That’s the worst pet name I’ve ever heard.”

“I’ll try to be more creative next time.” You shifted again, pulling the blanket over both of your legs. “And, if you don’t cuddle, then what are we doing right now?”

“Having a conversation.” 

“About?” You moved to look at him, raising your eyebrow.

Fighting hard not to smirk, he rolled his eyes. “Not cuddling.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re annoying.”  He hissed when you pinched his side. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Shut up and go back to sleep, Katsu.”

--

Bakugou Katsuki did NOT ask for help. The word help was not in his vocabulary. He could do everything and figure everything out on his own, thank you. However, he thought maybe, just this once, he was in over his head. 

He didn’t know shit about ghosts or spirits or hauntings or whatever the fuck this was. Mina, as Kaminari had pointed out to him after they’d left Mauhaus, was practically an expert. He was dreading the moment when she rubbed it in his face that she had been right about the house all along, but his annoyance over it paled in comparison to the need he had for a night of uninterrupted sleep.

Not that he minded, really, because he got to spend time with you.

The sudden affection that he had for you was unnerving. Because, besides the whole not asking for help thing, the other constant in his life was that Bakugou Katsuki did not catch feelings. Feelings were unnecessary. He hated them. He hated being fond of people, the weird ache in his chest made him want to puke. The only person he felt any kind of warmth for was Kirishima, and that was because he was his best friend. He tolerated everyone else to a degree, but he didn’t feel anything for them.

But then there was you, who he’d known for an entire two weeks. (He wasn’t even going to unpack the fact that you were literally haunting his dreams in which he was apparently fucking you.) Somehow, through the brief interactions you’d had, whether they were real or not, he’d managed to care about you. You were funny, and you didn’t put up with his shit.

It would figure that the only girl he’d ever had feelings for was dead.

He had come to terms with that fact now. His next course of action was to find out why you were coming to him. Mina was the only one he knew who could help him find some answers. (He didn’t really trust the internet.) The problem was getting her alone without the rest of the idiot brigade around. Kaminari knew, obviously, but he just wanted to talk to Mina.

His chance came on Saturday, when everyone came to his and Kirishima’s house for the barbeque. 

Bakugou was slicing vegetables in the kitchen when Mina came inside, offering to help. He grunted, pointing at a bowl of spinach. “Finish making the salad, raccoon eyes.” 

Mina rolled her eyes and stood beside him, taking the tomatoes he’d chopped and adding them to the bowl. “So, how’s the house-”

“What do you know about ghosts?” He blurted. Well, that was one way to ask.

She stiffened beside him. “Did you see something?”

Huffing through his nose, he picked up a cucumber and began slicing it a little harder than necessary to mask his discomfort. “Maybe.”

“Bakugou, what happened?” She grabbed his shirt sleeve, tugging on it. “Is it bad? Do we have to set up surveillance cameras or something?”

He snorted. “No, this isn’t a dumb horror movie.” Shrugging her off of his arm, he pushed the cucumbers towards her. “I’ve been having dreams-“

“How do you know it’s a ghost?” She interrupted, turning back to the salad.

Bakugou decided to be as vague as possible. “It’s the same dream every night, the same person. She never told me her name, but I was able to figure out who she is. She used to live here...” Swallowing thickly, he turned to look at her. “I just don’t know why she’s visiting me.”

“Well, most of the time ghosts are spirits that are still tied to this world in some way. People believe they have unfinished business, something they need to do before they can pass on.” Mina looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe she has regrets?”

Grunting, he went back to chopping. “I don’t know, it’s weird. She said she picked me because she tried Kirishima and she couldn’t reach him or whatever.”

“Maybe she thinks you're cute, Bakubabe.” Mina teased him.

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, alright, sorry!” Mina held up her hands in surrender. “So, she’s here somewhere, huh? I wonder why she hasn’t appeared to you outside of your dreams.”

“No idea. I wish she would though, I haven’t slept right since we moved in.”

“Do you know what happened to her?” 

Bakugou stopped chopping, thinking back to the other day at the cat cafe.

“I was working the late shift that night, and Y/N was home alone.” Shinsou rubbed his face, leaning back in his chair. “There had been a bunch of break ins in the area, so I told her to lock the door and leave the light and the TV on in the living room, that way it looked like someone was up. They must have been watching the house though, because it didn’t deter them.”

Bakugou swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to Shinsou as he stared down at the cup of water Kaminari had gotten him. He felt rage bubbling up in his chest, and he had to talk himself out of going to find whoever did this to you and making them pay. 

“Oh no, Shinsou, I’m so sorry.” Kaminari put his hand on his shoulder. “Did they catch who did it?”

Nodding, Shinsou finally looked up, eyes meeting Bakugou’s. “It was two guys. One of them turned themselves in, and the police were able to catch the other that way. They apparently had never agreed on killing anyone, they were just supposed to be looting. Not like they would have gotten a lot from us anyway, unless they had a thing for Siouxsie and the Banshees records and Funko Pops.”

“How-” Bakugou said suddenly, before closing his mouth and shaking his head. He didn’t really want to know.

“Shot her.” Shinsou said stiffly. 

“Fuck.” Kaminari breathed. 

“What does she say to you.” Bakugou blinked at the purple-haired man, realizing he was speaking to him. 

“Mostly she makes fun of me.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat back in the chair. “She was telling me how she missed you, wanted me to introduce you to Pikachu over here.” He nodded his chin at Kaminari. “Said you needed some sunshine or some shit.”

Snorting, Shinsou’s lip curled into a half smile. “Sounds like her.”

“So what now?” Kaminari asked. “Why is she visiting you?”

“Hell if I know. She mentioned this place and you and I kind of just wanted to see if I was making it all up in my head or something.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe. I don’t really know what to make of it.” Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Shinsou sighed. “I know you’re telling me the truth, though. Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Tch. It’s fine.” Bakugou didn’t blame the guy, honestly. 

“I think you should talk to Mina,” Kaminari said suddenly. “She knows a lot about this kind of stuff for some reason. She tried burning that sage, remember?”

“She told me she didn’t think it worked.”

“Sage is used for cleansing. It’s supposed to ward off evil. I don’t think Y/N fits the description.” Shinsou hummed. “She’s a soft hearted nerd.”

Mina gasped, eyes wide. “That’s so awful. That’s why this place feels so sad.” She turned back to the salad in front of her. “We should have a séance.”

Bakugou made a face, picturing that scene from Beetlejuice. “No one is going to be singing that god damn Banana Boat song at my kitchen table, fuck that.”

Snorting, Mina rolled her eyes. “You watch too many movies.” 

When the vegetables were chopped, he moved to the sink to wash his hands. “What will that do?”

“A séance? It’s a way to communicate with the dead. Maybe we can get her to come forward and speak to us, we can try to find out what she wants.”

Bakugou couldn’t explain the flash of panic that he felt suddenly. “Is that...going to get rid of her?”

His pink-haired friend blinked at him owlishly. “You don’t want her to go, do you?” 

He didn’t really have an answer to that, his ears burning hot. He shifted uncomfortably and snapped his mouth closed.

“You like her.” 

It was just a statement, and he couldn’t form the words to deny it. His embarrassment turned quickly to fury when he saw the look of pity in her eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, Katsuki.” She reached out to touch his shoulder and he jerked away. “You can’t-”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t fucking do.” He seethed. “And don’t call me that.”

“She’s dead, Bakugou.”

“You think I don’t know that already? Do I look stupid?” He was trying to keep from lashing out, his hands forming into fists at his side. He could feel himself shaking.

“What is going on here?” Kirishima asked from the doorway, brows furrowed. He looked between his two friends, arms crossed across his chest.

Bakugou shot Mina a pleading look. She quirked her brow in confusion, until she finally caught on. “You didn’t tell him? Bakugou, he lives here too, he has a right to know.”

“Shut up! I know that! I just...haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Tell me what?” Kirishima looked even more confused.

Kaminari chose that moment to waltz into the kitchen, bypassing everyone and plucking a piece of cucumber from the salad on the counter. He shoved it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Everyone watched him, Bakugou more wary than the rest, until he spun around and shot finger guns at Kirishima. “Your house is haunted, my friend.”

--

Bakugou opened the front door to see Shinsou standing on his front porch, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The ash blonde shared the sentiment.

Mina was in the dining area, draping a black tablecloth over the table and setting up candles. Kaminari was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, relaxing infinitesimally when Shinsou walked in the room behind Bakugou.

“Hey, Hitoshi.”

Oh, they were on a first name basis already.

It had been a week since the barbeque, and his forced confession to Kirishima about what had been going on since they’d moved into the house.

Kirishima had taken the news way better than he’d expected.

“Oh, you’ve seen her too?”

“What?” Bakugou froze, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair.

“I mean, I keep seeing shit out of the corner of my eye, and I thought I was going crazy or something.” He shrugged, helping Sero set the plates on the table. “I’d blink and she’d be gone. I guess I kind of got used to it after a while. I never felt scared or anything like that, and she never bothered me. It was like she was just watching.”

“She thinks you’re nice,” Bakugou mumbled, slumping into a chair.

Kirishima chuckled. “I am nice, bro.”

The rest of the evening had consisted of everyone bothering him with questions, and Mina preparing everyone for tonight’s séance. Kaminari had insisted that Shinsou should participate, and Mina had agreed, saying it would help to have someone close to her in the room. She had decided to drop the subject of Bakugou’s other admission, the one only she had heard.

He was kind of in love with you. 

It was selfish, wasn’t it? You didn’t belong here anymore, and he couldn’t have a relationship with you. He would drive himself crazy if he tried to keep going the way he had been, running on little to no sleep and burying himself in his textbooks, spending his free time researching the paranormal and diving into the dark recesses of the web. When he caught himself on a questionable website that talked about resurrection and spells he knew he’d taken a turn down a road he didn’t want to travel. 

He wanted to go back in time, to meet you before your death. Maybe you would have dated him, and you wouldn’t have lived in this house with Shinsou. You wouldn’t have been here when those assholes broke in. You’d still be alive.

Kirishima’s warm hand resting on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts. “You alright, man?”

He shrugged his friend’s hand away. “Peachy. Can we get this over with?”

Shinsou hummed in agreement. “It feels really weird to be in this house with other people’s stuff.” He didn’t need to mention how uncomfortable it felt to be in this place with everything that happened, but he didn’t have to. It was written all over his face.

Mina was lighting candles and calling everyone to the table, her normally bright and cheery expression gone, replaced with a serious and forlorn look. Kaminari introduced Shinsou to all their friends as they all took their seats, Mina at one end of the table and Bakugou at the other.

“Did you bring something of hers?” Mina asked Shinsou.

The purple-haired man nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small battered book. “Her notebook. She carried it around with her and wrote down things to remember, stupid poems, little doodles.” He handed it to Kaminari, who passed it to Mina. “Also, I have this photo, I don’t know if it helps.”

He turned it to show it to Bakugou, and he felt his chest ache. You were smiling, wearing a ridiculous maid’s outfit, your hair frizzed out with a little white bonnet pinned to it. Shinsou stood beside you, wearing a plague doctor’s mask and a button up coat. 

“Halloween a few years ago. She was Magenta from Rocky Horror, and I refused to wear fishnets and heels to be her Dr. Frank-N-Furter.” A small smile appeared on his face. “She was a riot.” He leaned forward and placed the photo next to the notebook in the center of the table.

“That’s perfect, Shinsou, thank you.” Mina said quietly. “Okay everyone, phones off. When you’re ready, take the hand of the person next to you. It’s very important that we keep the circle closed until we’re done, so don’t let go.”

Bakugou grumbled, switching his phone off. He rubbed his sweaty palms on the leg of his pants, and then held his hands out. Shinsou took his hand on his right, Kirishima on his left.

Mina situated the Ouija board in front of herself, and then took Sero and Kaminari’s hands in hers. “Close your eyes and clear your minds. We want to think about our purpose, of contacting Y/N. I’ll say an opening prayer and we’ll wait. I’ll repeat it until we get an answer. Make sure you remember your questions for her.”

Trying to clear his mind and ignore how stupid he felt at that moment, Bakugou let out a breath and closed his eyes. He thought about contacting you this way, wondered if he’d be able to see you.

“Together we ask the spirits this night, to send us only the blessed and bright, we claim protection for everyone here, and no evil beings can come near.” She took a deep breath and continued. “We are reaching out to Y/N. Please join us in our circle tonight when you’re ready.”

Nothing happened for several minutes, so Mina repeated her greeting. 

And that’s when Bakugou felt it. It was like fingers on the back of his neck, blunt nails scraping over his skin and tickling him, warm breath on his ear. “Y/N?”

He felt Kirishima tense beside him, a soft laugh leaving him. “Is that her?”

“What’s she doing?” Mina asked quietly.

“Playing with my hair.” he audibly swallowed. “It’s kind of nice.”

On his other side, Shinsou jerked his arm. “She just pinched me. Typical.” He snorted, chuckling fondly.

Kaminari squeaked, saying it felt like she kissed his cheek. Mina felt her squeeze her shoulder. Sero felt her tug on the ends of his hair.

Shinsou hummed. “She probably thinks you need a haircut. She used to do that to me a lot, too.”

“Y/N, are you with us?” Mina’s voice rang out into the room.

Bakugou opened his eyes, watching as Mina leaned over the board in front of her, a surprised expression on her face as the planchette began to wiggle. 

“She says yes.” Her head snapped up, smiling at all of them. “Okay, who has the first question?”

“I’ll go!” Kirishima said cheerfully. Clearing his throat nervously, he smiled that shark toothed grin of his. “Hey, Y/N. Uh, have you been hanging around and watching me work out?”

Scoffing, Bakugou turned his attention back to Mina. She watched the planchette move, snorting when it stopped moving. “She said ‘sick gains’.” 

Kirishima blushed the color of his hair. “She noticed!”

“Shut up, shitty hair. Who’s next?” Bakugou tried to tamp down the spike of jealousy he felt knowing you had been spying on his best friend.

“My turn!” Kaminari grinned. “I was going to just feed you a pickup line, but Shinsou said no, so I just wanted to thank you for helping me find him. He’s pretty great.”

The planchette wiggled again. “She said ‘notebook’.”

Shinsou sighed. “She wrote down pickup lines in it all the time. I think she wants you to look at them.”

“Yes! Oh man, so cool. Thank you Y/N!”

“She said ‘be happy’. Aw, that’s so nice!” Mina looked at Shinsou. “You want to go?”

Nodding, Shinsou closed his eyes. “Do you forgive me?”

“‘Not your fault.’” Mina read.

“But it is! If I would have been home-” He stopped when the table shook slightly. 

“She moved it to the ‘no’, Shinsou. She doesn’t blame you. I think that’s a good sign you should stop blaming yourself.”

The purple-haired man’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He seemed to look a little less haunted, like he was finally going to accept it.

Sero cleared his throat. “Hi Y/N, we don’t know each other, but I wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’ve heard some nice things, I think you would have been a great addition to the squad.”

“It says…” Mina took a minute to follow the rapidly moving heart shaped piece of wood. “‘Beat you at Mario Kart’.”

The whole table laughed, except for Bakugou. He was too busy thinking about his question, his gut wrenching and heart squeezing in his chest. 

“Bakugou?”

Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, and he knew it was because you were near. “Why are you still here? Don’t you want to move on?” He hated asking. He didn’t want the answer.

He felt you move away, his body relaxing slightly, his eyes trained on the board. He couldn’t read it from here, but he could see the planchette move. 

“‘I’m not ready.’”

“Why?” Bakugou heard himself asking.

The entire room was quiet, everyone waiting with bated breath. 

“‘I’m waiting for you, Katsu.’”

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

if you’re going crazy, just grab me and take me

summary: after the worst year with this fucking family, Ransom proposes on ❄️ chrstmas eve  ❄️ it obviously doesn’t go over as well as his emotionally-stunted ass thought it would.

warnings: every god damn word in this thing is a problem. rough smut. choking, anal, hair-pulling, biting, this shit makes the first chapter seem light, i’ll just say that. a lot of fighting. verbal and physical. there’s some fluff but don’t let ransom trick you like he’s obviously tricked me.

word count: this shit is almost 25,000 fucking words 😂😂😂. i dead ass kept being like why the fuck am I taking so long to post this? Then I saw the word count and I 😳🤭🤗😂 someone pls tell me i did not just devote 25,000 words to exposing myself as a weak ass hoe for Ransom. pls tell me this is a fever dream. i can’t.

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: holy fuck, am i a disaster. i apologize, i kept falling asleep and wow, i’m just confused about my entire process for writing this bc it was abnormal af.

part one: x part two: x (however, you don’t really need to read them to understand this mess? pretty sure.)

Christmas Eve:

It somehow felt that the entire hellscape that you were currently living in had simultaneously transpired yesterday but also years ago. That was the common feeling one was left with in times of so much exposure to Thrombeys. It was a whirlwind, but there were the good moments, and then the really bad moments, but then the kind of fun moments… It was a rollercoaster, honestly. One you had incorrectly believed you could cope with.

Meg and Joni had called you in a panic from the ski lodge they’d gone to in Canada. There was talk of stopping all flights, how were they going to get home? And lord, what about their home? Were they really supposed to stay there? Since being cut off, Joni had made some career moves that were smart, but she still had to scale back. They were in a much smaller place than before, one that was only temporary—Joni claimed as much about one million times while signing the papers for it.

Jacob had been the next to call, a hysterical Donna could be heard in the background. They had also been moving into another home because of financial issues. You weren’t sure what the ploy was with having Jacob call. Out of everyone in the family, he was the one you spoke to the least, maybe in competition with his irritating mother. Perhaps that had been the angle, were you really going to leave them isolated with their possibly murderous son in such a small house in an unknown neighborhood?

The answer was no. You weren’t going to leave out any Thrombeys. The Drysdales, on the other hand… You had made your terms quite clear. So, with the news of a quarantine sweeping across the country, these overprivileged people flocked to the house they had once called their own. But it was your house now, and that meant it was well within your right to exclude Linda and Richard.

The night you had told Ransom about it was…quite a night.

March: the arrival,

Your grand idea was to deliver the news quickly, over a drink when he was in the best mood he could be. You casually told him that Joni and Meg would be arriving first, then Walt, Donna, and Jacob.

He stared for a long time before simply stating, “I will not let them in the house.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ransom—”

He leaned forward, slamming his glass down on the table between you. “It’s not happening.”

You arched an eyebrow. Was he trying to be intimidating? Oh, you would be just terrified if you were an elderly author or poor nurse tasked with caring for the mentioned author. Seeing as you were his girlfriend, he was out of luck on that.

“I will lock the doors,” he declared, standing to place his hands on his hips. “Not one of those assholes is getting in here. You understand me?”

Instead of answering, you grabbed your drink and returned to the magazine in your lap. That was probably Ransom’s greatest source of irritation, when you decided you were done with the dramatics and ignored him.

He scoffed. “The fact that you think this is happening… It just goes to show—you call me a narcissist, but clearly, you are the narcissist! It takes one to know one!”

It takes one to know one? “Are you five?”

He crossed his arms over his chest.

With a soft sigh, you turned the page. It was silent for several seconds and you weren’t sure if he was trying to build up to something or if he just had nothing else left to try. Whatever it was, you told yourself you were ready for it. How many years was it now? You couldn’t be surprised anymore.

“Are you only with me for sex?”

And you stood corrected. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You clearly don’t care about my feelings—”

“Ransom, seriously, shut up. This is happening, okay? Your family is scared right now, you could try being human. This was their home for a time, of course, they want to be somewhere they feel comfort—”

“No, I’m putting my foot down.”

You rolled your eyes again. “You don’t have a foot to put down. This is my house, too.”

“Too,” he repeated firmly. “Too!”

“Ransom,” you snapped, getting to your feet and throwing the magazine on the table. “Stop acting like a child. They will be here tomorrow. I’m going to bed and if you wanted to join me, that would be great.”

He sat back down, a clear indication that that was not happening.

Things with Ransom, since the last argument, hadn’t been as tense as you thought they would be. Majorly, nothing really changed. Well, sex changed. You guys just weren’t doing that, which was major, because of the rate at which it had been occurring. But other than that, nothing changed. He wasn’t ignoring you, he wasn’t not touching you, there was very simple no sex. At all. But was that something you were okay with? Hell no. It was getting old and you were getting fucking tired of it.

“Fine, if you don’t, just know that I am keeping track.”

“Track?” he narrowed his eyes. “Of what?”

“How many nights I’ve slept without you and how many nights you’ve gone without fucking me.”

“After your last indiscretion, did you really expect anything else? Which you still haven’t apologized for, by the way.”

“Apologize?” you scoffed. “For keeping a fucking vibrator? What do you want me to say, Ransom? Sorry that I have yet to give you total control over my body?”

“That is exactly what I want to hear.”

Without another word, you simply rolled your eyes at him and stormed off to the room you had once upon a time shared with your boyfriend. Not that he officially moved out. In fact, he was still sleeping in there and kept his shit in there. But he was not falling asleep with you nor was he was present when you woke up.

You had no idea what he was doing in there and you were trying to be human, unlike Ransom. Everyone deserved privacy. Besides, he’d made you your sunroom and it afforded him a lot of forgiveness. It was this tiny extension of the house that had huge windows and was just small enough to fit your yoga mat, a couch, and about a billion plants. You read there a lot, you also escaped Ransom a few times. You could understand his desire for an office. But as frequently as he was using it? That was scary.

Admittedly, it was difficult to stay mad at him when you walked through the house that you’d almost now completely rebuilt together. The only exclusion being the office. It had been one of those Harlan rooms that you’d never actually been in prior because you were not family. Weeks ago, you watched Ransom remove everything, add new things, but you still hadn’t been inside. He didn’t so much tell you that it was his own personal room, but it was very clear in how he locked the door. Like, all the time.

You had already been prepping for bed, knowing that the discussion was going to be exhausting. You threw yourself straight into bed, not overly optimistic about the possibility that you were going to fall asleep.

Maybe it was the argument, the mention, the acknowledgment that you guys weren’t having sex. Did he even care? It didn’t seem like it. That caused concern for you. You’d always thought that you would be much older when the two of you would be having no sex. You wondered if things were changing, if your relationship was changing.

Officially, it was hopeless. You were not going to fall asleep. You were just about to get back up when you heard him walking up the stairs, you froze, held your breath, hoped that maybe he wanted to end this. Instead, he walked by the room and to the end of the hall, where said office was.

Fine, fuck him. You just had to get up and moving, there was no shortage of shit you had to prepare. Jacob, though terrible, was family, and a teenage boy. You were going to set him up in a smaller room on the bottom floor. Harlan usually had live-in staff stay in that room if they ever fell on hard times. You figured he would enjoy the privacy. Walt might even enjoy not sleeping in the same room as the next Ted Bundy.

Meg’s room was the most used since she stopped by on weekends sometimes when Ransom was gone for the day or stayed out late. They always met in the kitchen when morning came to argue and give you a headache, however.

She probably needed towels in the bathroom. She might even end up wanting different sheets. Jacob would need more sheets. Was there a color you should give him in the case that the little psycho killed someone, if you wanted to prevent stains? Joni’s room had been cleared out except for major furniture so you wanted to get that set before the morning. You had intended to set all of this up at some horribly early hour, but you were too annoyed to try sleeping. What better time than now?

Did you even have food? You would probably need to go to the store in the morning. You would make a careful list and ensure that no one would need to leave the house again because you were not going to let one of these rich idiots get you sick. Food, sheets because as you were walking through the linen closet, you discovered that you didn’t have really any sets of sheets. Then, you would need laundry detergent, fabric softener. Not all the rooms had pillows—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ransom found you madly scribbling on a notepad in the center of Joni’s room. You didn’t bother to look at him when you answered, “Making a shopping list.”

“May I ask what for?”

“We have no sheets or pillows or food…or really anything, Ransom. Are we fucking vampires?”

He sighed as he made his way to you. “Okay, it’s time for bed.”

“Go away if you’re not going to be helpful.”

“No, get up now.” But he was met with nothing but silence. Instead of trying another round of verbal communication, he effortlessly grabbed your arms and picked you up.

“Ransom!”

He abruptly took your face in his hands. “They’re lucky they even get to be here. You’re not doing a single thing for these people.”

“Stop, okay? This is our house, we have to have these things—”

“No, you stop. Stop trying to do anything for them because no matter what, they’re going to complain.”

You glared. “Are you trying to help? Just go back to your stupid office and leave me be.”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “It is time for bed. I’m taking you to the room—”

“I’m just going to sneak out as soon as you leave for your office, so don’t waste my time or yours—”

He abruptly threw you up over his shoulder.

“Ransom!” you shrieked in absolute panic, he had never done this. Dragged you kicking and screaming? Yes. Literally pulled you along the floor by your legs? Yes. This? No, not once.

He was quick to get to the room, worried about how exactly you would react, what you were willing to do to make him drop you. He tossed you down on the mattress.

“You’re such an ass! I have to—”

He silenced you by pulling off his T-shirt.

So, he interrupted you because he wanted to have sex? After he had been withholding it? You feigned an unbothered expression. “Ransom, fuck off.”

He scowled. “Why did I have to find you? Why did life bring you to me? Personally, the meaningless fucking was fine for me, a lot less trouble.”

You scoffed. “Do you think I like being with you?! You’re the worst person I’ve ever fucking met, possibly the worst person on this fucking planet!”

He rolled his eyes. “Get on your knees.”

“You are not serious.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re seriously fucking insane, but you’re not serious in that you actually think that’s going to happen!”

“Get. On. Your. Knees. You can do it on your own or I can do it for you.”

You weighed your options. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend, you wanted to be close to him. However, if he left you after you sucked him off, you might end up killing him. But what could you do? Ransom was apparently in a mood.

Whatever theatrics that were going to occur tonight were already planned, you realized. If he was going to walk away, he was going to walk away. No amount of arguing or any other behavioral tactics were going to change that. You would hit him, you were sure of that, but at least you could get back to making your home presentable.

You reached back for a pillow and gave him a challenging look. He arched an eyebrow at you as you slowly jumped off the bed, laid your pillow at his feet and got to your knees.

“The fuck is this? You suddenly a princess?”

“I’ve always been a princess,” you declared. “One day, a wonderful man or woman, who’s going to give me an even bigger house, is going to know it.”

He glared. “What the fuck is your problem? Do I need to start paying you to keep your mouth shut?”

You snorted. “You have money?”

And that was, apparently, a line crossed for Ransom. Furiously, without another word, he yanked his pants open and shoved them down with his boxers.

Instead of staring at his cock in front of your face, you looked up at him.

He sighed. “Y/N, suck my cock.”

You shrugged. “Why?”

He took himself in one hand and grabbed your hair in the other. He brought your mouth to the head of his cock and waited patiently. You did nothing, simply kept your gaze on him. Rolling his eyes, he pulled at your hair.

You attempted to keep your lips clamped but he continued yanking until you opened your mouth to cry out. Then, without hesitation, he shoved his cock down your throat. You gagged instantly, hands snapping up to shove at his thighs. He wouldn’t budge, he kept you there no matter how hard you tried to push him away—which, admittedly, since you were so wet, wasn’t very hard—or how many times you gagged.

His free hand touched your cheek. “You’re fucking beautiful like this.”

He could fuck off—as soon as he was done coming, you would walk away. You didn’t even want to be fucked by him anymore. But sadly, you had missed the taste of him, the feel of his skin on your tongue.

When he finally pulled you off his cock, you gasped for air. Then, once again, he was thrusting back in. You were choking on him, eyes watering, throat burning, drooling, sniffling, hands begging to be let up again with how hard they gripped his thighs.

But Ransom only let you off when he wanted. The second time, he allowed you to try to catch your breath. Your head was spinning since you were not quite getting oxygen back fast enough. You were blinking away those tiny black spots appearing behind your eyes. He used one hand to wipe away the tears on your cheeks and whatever was falling down your chin.

Then he was bringing you down once more. Holding you in place, he began fucking your mouth slowly, gently, two words that normally did not apply to Ransom. He took his time, he wanted you aching and craving him, and you really fucking were. You thought you wouldn’t feel a thing if he walked away after thing, but now, you knew you were going to set that office on fire if he tried it.

As he neared his end, he grew noisier. You liked that about Ransom, he didn’t hold back due to some insane fragile masculinity thing—no, that was often displayed in less conventional ways. He liked fucking you and he liked letting you know.

He picked up speed eventually, paying no mind to the sounds of you choking every time he thrust in a tad too hard. You didn’t even care, you knew you would be soaking wet, if you just reached down and felt…

He yanked you down when he was coming, buried deep in your throat, reveling in the feel of your throat moving around him, trying not to choke, trying to breathe. “Don’t make a mess, baby, swallow everything I’m giving you.”

You tried, really, you were not just playing your usual game of disobedience. But he really was choking you, so when you tried to swallow, things did not go according to plan. You gagged, nothing was swallowed. A mess you did create. On him, the floor, yourself, the pillow.

Ransom pulled you off and then grabbed your arm to haul you up. His hand still in your hair, he forced you to look up at him, bending your neck back almost uncomfortably. You were still struggling with lack of oxygen and just about fell into him completely, clearly being bratty was not on your mind.

He waited patiently, as if he wanted an explanation. No, you did not intend to do the opposite of what he had told you, but you weren’t about to let him know that. “Baby,” he cooed. His hand slid up from your arm to your neck where some of his cum was sliding down toward your chest. “What was what?”

“Out of practice, I guess. It’s been months since you’ve touched me.” Okay, it had just barely been two months yesterday, but if he could be dramatic, you were allowed as well.

He arched an eyebrow. “Considering you only need to say one word to me, I don’t think you really want it that bad.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

His expression fell. He had hoped you would desperately blurt out an apology, clearly. Without another word, he shoved you onto the bed.

You stared up at him, face composed. “Don’t you have an office to be in?”

“You seem very jealous of that office, baby.”

“Why would I be? I finally get to be away from you.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your shorts and panties. The way he ripped them off you was damn near violent. You both wanted something rough tonight. “Then why is your pussy wet?”

You shrugged. “Couldn’t be for you. I can’t remember the last time you made me come.”

He leaned over, slowly crawling his way up your body.

Without prompt, you reached between your bodies and pulled your shirt over your head, arching a little more than necessary.

He took your forearms and pinned them to the bed. “Tell me how bad you need me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I’m not joking,” you countered. “I. Don’t. Need. You.”

He took your jaw in one hand, forcing you to meet his stare. “Y/N, seriously.”

He really wasn’t joking, but again, neither were you. “Ransom, if you walk out before you fuck me, I will leave you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking disappear, and you will never ever see me again.”

He smirked. “I understand.”

“I need you,” you breathed, free arm sliding around his shoulder, clinging tight. “I really fucking need you. I need you inside me. You know it’s been too long.”

Smiling like he just won the lottery, he rolled onto his side a little, turning your hips with him. “Yes,” he agreed. “Too long, baby, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t. You felt his tip at your entrance and you held your breath. He was a dick, yes, but you had been absolutely starving for his touch, his attention.

He pressed inside and it stung almost as bad as it had the first time. You turned your head away, hand pressed to your mouth to keep quiet. You hadn’t noticed your eyes were filled with tears until he touched your cheek and you blinked in surprise. You weren’t sure what you were crying about, the pain or the relief of finally feeling him.

You kept yourself turned from him, hoping he would just drop it. Of course, he wouldn’t. Of course, the one time you were willing to give Ransom a pass to be a complete ass, he wouldn’t want to take it.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he cooed. He had stopped, letting you adjust to him. However, Ransom didn’t have an ounce of patience and you knew his restraint was slipping. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it better.”

You also knew he wasn’t sorry. You squeezed your eyes shut until he was buried inside you. Feeling so full was something you had missed but feeling wanted was what you had been longing for. He could say the words, he could give you lingering looks when you were wearing a dress or a tight top, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t convince you like when he just grabbed you and used you to satisfy every sick desire he had.

He grabbed your face and forced you to turn back but your eyes were shut. Instead of trying to get you to look at him, he kissed you. His lips moved over yours until you were finally curling into him, his arm wrapped around your back and pinned you against him.

Intimate, close, slow, but so fucking hard, that was how he made you come the first time. There were no words, just grabbing each other, gasping into the kiss, biting one another’s lips, tongue and teeth, scratching nails, pulling hair. He watched your face as you were coming down, hips still snapping up, fingers brushing along your cheeks.

He rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You hissed at the ache of this new angle, using your knees to pull off just a little. He took your hands and set them to the headboard. The way he stared up at you, like he was worshiping every inch of you, it made your skin burn.

“Ride me,” he ordered.

Hands gripping the bed, your hips began to roll. Ransom stared the whole time, where his cock was disappearing inside you, your moving breasts, your gorgeous, soft body. He used one hand to pinch your nipples alternatively and the opposite hand to focus solely on your clit.

You were breathless, shaking, chasing after that climbing high. You let the headboard go in favor of grabbing his hands, dragging them up to circle around your neck. As he began to apply pressure, you continued bouncing on his cock, unashamedly screaming now that he was stifling the noise.

Watching your eyes fill with tears, hearing those strangled sounds tear from your throat, it was enough to get him there as soon as your cunt started to tighten. He was coming with you, squeezing your neck tighter, so tight you tried to pull his hands off you.

But it was futile, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He threw you down, rolling over so he was on top of you. You wrapped your legs around him, spreading your thighs and taking him in deeper.

He set one hand to the mattress to hold himself up but kept his other hand on your neck. He leaned over, forehead pressing to yours, breathing hotly against your skin. “Say it again.”

“Say what?” you choked out.

“You know.”

You always knew. He had only asked you for this one other time since you’d said it that first night. You stopped caring that he was probably never going to say it back. “I love you.”

His hips finally stilled. You weren’t sure what his response was going to be, but you knew what it wasn’t going to be. Yes, you’d stopped caring, but were you okay with it? You weren’t entirely convinced. But what were you going to do? Leave Ransom? That seemed highly unlikely.

So, you decided to speak before he could. “Even though you’re a fucking loser.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “And I guess you’re hot enough to keep around even if that mouth annoys the hell out of me.”

That, you suspected, was as close as he was going to get to ever stating his feelings for you. “Are you going to let me get back to my list?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Not done yet.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You lasted, like, three minutes—”

He gave you a sharp look. “Must be my age, I guess I’ll need a minute before I can go again. But you, baby girl,” he grabbed one of your hands and brought your fingers up to his lips.

You watched closely as he kissed every knuckle before he brought your hand down and pressed your first two fingers to your clit. You shuddered. “Ransom, wait—”

“Since you like getting yourself off so much, you’re going to—”

You sighed. “Ransom, please—”

“And I’m going to watch until I’m ready to fuck you again.”

You pouted up at him. “You said it was time for bed.”

“I changed my mind.” He pulled your legs from around him and sat back to watch you. He pulled one thigh further from the other and gave you an expectant look. “I wasn’t asking, baby.”

For what felt like the first time in years, you were woken up by your boyfriend with his hand between your legs. You were laying on his chest, he was kissing the top of your head, tracing patterns along your spine and just barely teasing your clit.

All he needed to know was that you were awake and then had you pinned underneath him before you could say a word. Last night was nice but now the sun was shining through the blinds and you could see all of him. The freckles on his skin, the fine lines around his mouth because he does actually smile even if he doesn’t want anyone to know. And all his muscles—ugh.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

You smiled. “I have to get up and start getting ready.”

“No, baby. The only thing you need to do is open your legs so your boyfriend can fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

“Oh, deserve?” you scoffed. “I always deserve to be fucked. What changed your mind?”

He shrugged his shoulder. “Does it matter?”

Few things did when it really came down to your relationship with Ransom. It was all one huge give-and-take and neither of you shied away from taking advantage of that lack of communication.

He kept you there for nearly half an hour, insisting that you give him just one more finish, but he’d done that nearly four times. The reason you were able to escape was that there was someone at the door. As Ransom when to see who it was, you ran for the shower.

You were surprised when he joined you. One of your favorite things in your entire relationship was taking showers with Ransom, but it rarely happened. Whether that be because you were always on a time limit when you were getting ready or because he woke up later than you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I miss taking showers with you, you’re warm.”

He turned to kiss your cheek. “You going shopping?” he muttered against your skin.

“Yeah, we don’t have anything either. We’re out of your favorite cookies, you know.”

He hummed. “Okay, just be safe. Wear a mask and try not to touch anything you don’t have to. Put everything in the back of your car, I put hand sanitizer in there so use it before you touch anything inside.”

You scoffed as you looked back, eyebrow arching. “You sound scared.”

He shrugged. “Well, you know… I just don’t want you to get sick.”

You smiled a little.

“Because I don’t want to have to take care of you.”

“Ugh, Ransom!” You brought your hand up to flick his forehead, but he caught your wrist and used the opposite hand to turn you around.

His arm slid across the small of your back and he picked you up to walk you to the shower wall. He pinned you against it completely, the shower head was almost directly over the two of you. Instead of attempting to watch him, you closed your eyes and pulled him into a kiss by his hair. He angled his hips up and easily thrust inside you.

Your mouth dropped and you gasped, he used that as his chance to bite down on your lip. You were sore between your legs, but the ache was a reminder that Ransom had put aside his pettiness because he had wanted you so badly. You brought your leg up to hook around his hip and used that as your leverage as you began to roll your hips.

He shuddered and bit harder on your lip still trapped between his teeth. He only let it go so he could turn down and press his mouth to your shoulder. “Slow baby, fuck me slow.”

You did as he directed. You slid off his cock and then slid back down, using all the restraint you could muster because you couldn’t wait until his broke. You couldn’t wait for him to grab you and take charge.

His hand slid between the two of you and he began pressing down on your clit, just slightly.

“I could kill you, Ransom,” you blurted out. “You better not ever go so long without touching me again.”

He nodded. “I promise, I will not.”

If you had a question about his tone, it died when his hands finally grasped your hips. “Tell me what you want.”

“Hard,” you pleaded. “So hard, please. I want to feel you all day, I want it to hurt until you’re inside me again.”

And goodness, did he make it hurt. He fucked you until you could no longer stand, until you weren’t able to coherently tell him that you weren’t sure you would ever be able to on your own again.

He had to set you on the floor of the tub when he knew it was time to get out. You weren’t sure why, and if you had been in a better mindset, you would have remembered the importance of always asking Ransom questions about his actions. However, all you could do was stay still, a little dizzy, vibrating pleasantly all over.

It somehow felt like hours but only seconds that he left you alone. When he was standing you back up, you still didn’t have the good sense to ask what the hell he was doing, but you absolutely melted when he pulled you from the shower and wrapped you up in a warm towel. A towel that had clearly just come out of the dryer—this man, that he could be so perfect and just chose not to be, deserved to be in jail. Yeah, the murder thing was a strike against him, you guessed, but this? Unforgivable.

When you got back home, there were several cars that you had never seen. Somehow, despite not getting an inheritance, the Thrombeys still knew how to make money. Which just made the whole Harlan thing even more annoying. Why all the dramatics? Rich people didn’t get poor the same way poor people got poorer. It was merely a showing of greed.

But you could not dwell on things like that, otherwise, this whole thing was going to go bad much quicker than you had suspected. You also couldn’t be the one that made it go bad. You weren’t an actual Thrombey or a Drysdale—and never would be since you fell in love with the least committal one of them all. You, despite extending your home and kindness, needed to be a lot more behaved than Ransom.

As you were bringing in the groceries, you glanced at the cars. There were five in total and you shuddered to think Jacob was driving. He was about that age, of course, but still, yikes. Meg and Joni probably showed up separately, which meant Donna and Walt did as well. Okay, weird, but you long ago stopped trying to guess why these people did what they did.

You wrestled with the front door for a moment and the noise of it brought in Joni and Meg. The older woman was completely decked out in crystals, unsurprisingly, you had just read an about how crystal shops were doing particularly well at this time.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted.

“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” Meg immediately responded, taking some of the bags from your hands.

Joni followed her daughter’s lead. “Yes, honey, let us help you.”

Okay, suspicious. These people rarely did a thing that would constitute as the simplest of work—save for Meg, of course. “Thanks, but Ransom really should be helping me.” You gently pressed the door back with your leg, not shutting it completely but trying to keep the cold at bay. “Ransom!”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Joni informed.

“Great, we can head that way.”

On the walk there, you found Donna and Walt were in what was now one of many family rooms. They greeted you a tad overenthusiastically—regardless, you couldn’t stop, you’d just deal with it later.

“You didn’t need to go shopping for us,” Donna said.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you assured. “We needed a few things, I thought I’d get it done all at once so you guys wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

As if given a cue, they all began to thank you again. Again, you would need to deal with this when your arms were less full and there weren’t about a million bags in the back of your car.

You led the way to the kitchen, Meg and Joni on your tail. “Was the trip over here easy enough?”

“So weird,” Joni claimed. “People are literally going insane. I went to my usual crystal shop before I got here…”

Typical. She proceeded to tell you about how she had an “altercation” with a woman for a tiger’s eye finished into the shape of her animal spirit guide—which you were forgetting at the moment, a swan or something.

You stopped trying to recall those past conversations in case she quizzed you about what your animal was—she had stressed the importance of finding it and you promised you would the next time you saw her—when you saw Richard and Linda sitting at your kitchen table. Ransom was at the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand.

You merely glanced at them before turning to him. There were no words at all for the rage you felt at that moment. Joni had stopped speaking and was working to get the bags she’d taken from you onto a flat surface so she could grab the rest.

“Y/N!” Richard greeted. “Thank you so much for letting us stay here.”

You lifted your eyebrows at Ransom.

“She obviously didn’t know, Richard,” Linda pointed out. “Because she’s been trying to steal my son away since the day that she met him.”

You turned to her. “Are you—?”

“No, no, no,” Joni interjected. “She didn’t mean that!” She set the last of the bags down and touched your shoulder. “She’s joking!” She turned to Linda. “You’re joking, right?”

“Of course,” Linda claimed, unconvincingly with a smirk that you had come to recognize as smug. Not that you’d seen it much on her, but her son, on the other hand…

Speaking of Ransom, he looked beyond exhausted. Only, he wasn’t, he was just trying to convey that because it was clear that he didn’t intend to have this discussion with you. It never was a discussion, because, for some reason, he made all the excuses in the world for his mother and would obviously choose her over you.

Suddenly, in your mind, things all fell into place. Richard and Linda probably got here after all the others, the rest had been set to get there around noon. He’d kept you in bed to stop you from getting home before them because then you could keep them out of the house, you could have caused a huge scene. Now? It was clear that you were outvoted, the rest of the family probably would have thought of you as unreasonable if you kicked them out now.

Fine, it was all fine. You weren’t going to argue about this, not then. It would give Linda joy to see you have a complete meltdown. Ransom had already humiliated you enough by doing this completely behind your back, you weren’t going to give her anything else.

You turned to the counter to grab his keys. “Well, then you get to go back to the store.” You threw the keys at his chest, probably harder than you should have, and turned to head back out to your car.

It was silent until you exited the room, then Linda felt the need to voice her opinion no one asked for. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t marry her. She’s shopping for essential items the day company was planned to arrive?”

You turned right back around but Meg was there to usher you back outside. She knew you needed a moment of fresh air and a moment away from Linda. Meg was a rather sympathetic person, she understood completely where you were coming from. In her mind, you were right and Ransom was so wrong for what he did, and Linda was wrong as well. But she also told you, this was how this family went. Linda was at the top now that Harlan was gone. If you sincerely wanted to be with Ransom—and she was confused about that—you would have to suck it up.

That much you agreed with, to an extent. It was clear that you were never going to be able to fix these people completely, but you were trying to create boundaries. Linda could not hit your boyfriend, her son. But how was she going to learn that if Ransom didn’t give a damn? She wasn’t.

You were suddenly wishing you’d accepted the invitation from your parents to stay with them until this all settled down. You had been too scared, however, because of the distance that seemed to be growing with Ransom. Now, you just felt like an idiot.

He lied to you. He did this behind your back, and he used intimacy to distract you from his plans, and that was absolutely disgusting. You couldn’t get over that. You felt used, by the one person you’re supposed to be able to trust more than anyone else in the world.

“Meg, can we have a minute?”

You turned away as soon as you heard Ransom off to your side. If you had a minute with him, you would probably murder him.

“Um,” she started, shifting awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” you assured. “Can you start putting away the groceries, please?”

“Yes, I will do that,” she eagerly confirmed. Meg liked to feel helpful, she often felt guilty about her privilege and wanted to be anything but another typical Thrombey. It was refreshing given all the other extreme personalities you would have to be living with for a while.

“I bought enough sheets for every single bed in the house for the next ten years,” you informed. “Those are fine. We’ll just need more food, probably—”

Ransom reached out for your arm, but you jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hey—”

You finally turned to him. “I am not talking about this. You lied to me, you did this behind my back—”

“She’s my mom—”

“And I’m your girlfriend!” you hissed back. “And I am so fucking tired of this and you. Last night, you had sex with me to distract me so you could fucking sneak your parents in here. Who does that?!”

“That’s not why I had sex with you—”

“Really?” you demanded. No, you wouldn’t be having this talk, it wasn’t happening. Turning away, you sighed, “It doesn’t matter. I’m done talking to you about this, I’m serious. Do whatever the fuck you want, Ransom. That’s what you always do anyway. I’m done caring.”

“Look, we can’t be fighting with these people here—”

“You should have thought about that before you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“I’m having a really hard time right now not running you over with my car,” you asserted, “So I’m going to go back inside. I just need you to go to the store for me, okay? Please, can you do one thing, literally, Ransom, just one thing to help me feel, like, 10% less stressed about all of this?”

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll go to the store.”

“Great.” You started to pull out more bags from the car.

“Can we talk about this later?”

“I don’t know yet.” Hell no, but you weren’t going to tell him that. With full arms, you stormed around him and back into the house.

Later, when he got home, he discovered that you had moved out of the bedroom. Yes, you had moved your shit to another room, locked it, and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

April: the parents’ bedroom,

It was six in the morning, you had just failed at finishing your yoga routine due to your pounding headache. You’d thought a smoothie would make you feel much better, but see, that was with the condition that everyone else was still asleep.

Not the case.

Joni and Richard were currently in the middle of a debate about anti-maskers. Joni, surprisingly, given all her healing crystals shit, thought anti-maskers were idiots. Richard, on the other hand, believed this was a free country and people should have the right to choose anything and everything because “that’s America”.

You had a blender full of ingredients and when you finally got to turn it on, it was comparable to an orgasm. If only because you and Ransom were back to a no-touching arrangement. You could barely stand to look at him.

They seemed unbothered by the blender, their argument only getting louder. You went to the cabinet to grab some pills, anything that would make your head feel better. Could anything with these people? You weren’t overly optimistic about that prospect.

You took your place back at the blender, leaning down to fall into the pain of that instead of the politics conversation. They did this often. Last week, it was whether people should vote this November. Prior, it had been traveling bans, canceled events, whether unemployment should be giving people as much as they are. Linda and Walt interjected sometimes, even Meg because she couldn’t remain silent on a few occasions, but you, Ransom, and Jacob all but steered clear of it.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and stood up straight. You didn’t want anyone knowing you weren’t feeling well. Richard and Walt always acted like you were dying, Joni would start with her crystals and lectures about the importance of meditating.

Thankfully, it was just Ransom. He had been out, he was wearing a scarf, a heavy jacket, and his pale cheeks were flushed red. He nodded out of the room and you followed because silence seemed too tempting.

“What is it, Ransom?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I need a reason to speak to you?”

Your eyes fell shut and you pressed your fingers to your temples. He wasn’t being serious right now, was he? He wanted to have a conversation right now? You felt on the verge of death.

He touched your shoulder again. “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache. Not a big deal.”

“Not trying to be an ass—”

You opened your eyes. “But you’re so good at it.”

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Ransom,” you sighed, shrugging his hand off.

He caught you before you could turn away. “Hey.”

“Ransom, please, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk much either.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He shrugged. “You know I know how to make you feel better when you have a headache.”

You hummed. “Sex? Why? Are you trying to distract me again? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice your inability to wake up at a reasonable hour for me, but how willing you seem to wake up at 5 in the morning to have coffee with your mommy?”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he insisted. “And she heard me come downstairs.”

“Yes, great cover. So convincing.”

“I do not wake up to have coffee with her every morning. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

You lifted your eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He glared. “It’s because I hate sleeping without you.”

“You made me sleep without you—!”

“That was not what you think!”

You narrowed your eyes. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum over the vibrator?”

“No, okay, stop. We’re not going back, okay? No talk about the past, we need to talk about now. You’re the one that made me promise that I wouldn’t withhold sex—”

“I’m not withholding sex, Ransom, I just have no desire to be around you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Doubt that.”

“If you’re having issues sleeping, maybe you should ask your mommy to read you a bedtime story and—”

He pressed his hand over your mouth and started dragging you across the room.

Immediately, you started screaming at him. What the fuck? And you continued to do this until you realized he was leading you to Richard and Linda’s room. Eww, if you didn’t want to talk to him, you certainly didn’t want to talk to her.

But despite your struggling, he forced you into the room and slammed the door before you could escape.

“What the hell?” you demanded.

“This fight is over.”

“No, it’s not!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous because I care about you? I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. My parents want me to stay with them and I think I should—”

His eyes widened at you. “This is your god damn house—”

“You clearly don’t think so! I had one condition, just one fucking condition. I wanted her to apologize for trying to physically assault you and somehow that makes me the villain in this situation?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“You went behind my back, Ransom.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Wow, was that an actual apology? It didn’t matter. One apology a month later was too small. “Look, it’s too late, okay? I’m exhausted and I just want to go home—”

“This is your fucking home!”

“No, it’s your mother’s fucking home and it always will be if you let her do whatever the fuck she wants!”

“She apologized!”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed.

He reached into his pants and yanked out his phone. Easily, he found one of the last texts that they had exchanged and turned it to you.

Don’t tell your psycho, fragile girlfriend but I am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did. I understand that it was out of line, it will not happen again. Can we come over? You know I don’t want to be alone with your father.

It took three seconds to go from partially angry to very, absolutely, completely outraged. You smacked the phone out of his hand and it clattered to the hardwood floor. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Ransom!”

He threw his arms up. “For what?!”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me this earlier?!”

“She would have known that I told you.”

“And?!”

“And,” he began, “I…don’t really know what I thought would happen.”

You shoved at his chest and he didn’t even have the energy to step back simply to make you feel better. He didn’t move an inch because you shoving him was like a cat trying to push a lion. “You are such a fucking mommy’s boy! I’m done with this whole thing, I’m done with you!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am! You can’t make me stay here, you can’t make me—”

“You love me!”

Your eyes widened. He made you tell him you loved him, never said it back, and now he was using it against you? “You are dead! Do you understand me?! I’m going to run you over with your fucking Beemer! Then I’m going to get a new boyfriend and I’m going to let him fuck me in that stupid fucking car!”

He grabbed a handful of your hair and your hands flew back to scratch at his forearm. He shoved you back onto the bed and made the mistake of rolling over to attempt to get away from him. He grabbed both of your wrists and managed to get them into one of his hands, then yanked down your yoga pants.

“You are tearing them, you ass!”

And then he smacked your bare skin hard enough that it echoed, loud enough that you were sure anyone in the kitchen could have heard it. Your entire body burned with humiliation, but you loved the pain. How had you survived so long without him doing this?

“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered.

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me in your parents’ room?” you snapped.

“No, I am going to fuck you in my parents’ room,” he corrected. “What? You’re not into this anymore? This wouldn’t be the first time.”

“They sleep here,” you reminded. “This is weird given your obsession with her.”

“I changed the sheets this morning.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re her maid now?”

He smacked you again and you pressed your face down to muffle your scream. “No, I just always knew that I was going to fuck you here today.”

You waited until the pain subsided before you turned your face, Ransom was still working the yoga pants down, a task that seemed impossible with only one hand. “Where were you today?”

“I had a meeting.”

“With whom?”

“None of your business.”

“Yes, it is my business, you fucking dick! If you’re not going to let me go home—”

He spanked you again, harder now, it seemed like an angry action, not just a retaliating one. “You are home, this is your fucking home and if you suggest otherwise again, I fucking swear—”

“What?” you demanded. “You’re going to tattle to your mommy?”

“I should fucking strangle you,” he growled, and before you could say anything, his hand was at your pussy. He scoffed. “You are seriously this wet? You have so many fucking issues.”

“One issue,” you argued. “You.” But that was a lie and he was more than right. You could hear him moving his pants out of his way and you were nearly shaking with the need to feel him.

Abruptly, he shoved his cock inside you and you both moaned as you adjusted around him. It was loud, obscenely loud, there was no question about what you two were doing, and you honestly didn’t care anymore. Had he gotten bigger? No, that wasn’t possible. You were pretty sure it wasn’t.

You felt him moving to tear off his coat. “Don’t you dare throw that coat on this floor, Ransom.”

But he did and he did it so eagerly, like he wanted to irritate you. The floors were hardwood, Linda had her dogs in the home, and their fur got everywhere on Ransom’s clothes. He hated you, you hated it because he just threw things away—didn’t even donate them because he’s such a beast.

Next, you felt his scarf around your wrists and started struggling.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” he snarled.  “You’re lucky I’m not fucking gagging you.”

As his hips began rocking just slightly, he grabbed your jaw and turned your head back. His lips found yours immediately and while you two were sharing a sloppy, unskilled kiss, he began driving his hips into you as hard as he knew you needed him to.

His skin was slapping against yours noisily, the bed was creaking, moving on those extra hard thrusts. He spread your legs out as wide as he could and held them there, fingers digging painfully into your skin.

Things became very clear to Ransom at that moment. You were underneath him, completely at his mercy since you were bound now. You were pouting, pretending that you didn’t like this, and he wanted to fuck that disobedience out of you. He sat back up, holding your hips as he kept steadily moving in and out of you. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”

You blinked once, twice. “What?”

He never pulled out, but he did lean over and start yanking on the drawers of one of the bedside tables.

“What are you doing?” No, he wasn’t going to actually…fuck you there. He’d never done it, he’d never even asked about it even though you brought it up a few times. He’d located your plugs that one time, he knew you were into it. But nothing. Why now?

“I know he has to have something,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to think about your parents like that.”

“Oh, no, just think of my dad like that,” he joked.

You shook your head. “Eww.”

“Oh, eww?” he checked. “Since when? You realize you can never talk about fucking him again, right? Looks like you’re going to have to provoke me in other ways now.”

“I didn’t mean ‘eww’ like that,” you claimed, “I meant ‘eww’ that your mom isn’t fucking him, and I definitely should be, because he totally deserves it for being such a great husband and father, but sadly, I’m here with you instead.”

“You’re such a fucking brat and—got it.” Ransom rarely moved fast, preferring to act like the cocky ass that he was, making it clear that he had all the time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted. Because you were never going to say no. But now, he was acting like he was in a race.

Your body tensed up as soon as you felt the sharp cold against your skin. Ransom took his fingers and spread the gel over your skin, you gasped when you felt one of his fingers teasing your hole.

He did this a few more times, just making sure that you were properly prepped before his first finger dipped inside you. He set his free hand to your back when you tensed. “Relax,” he ordered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured. You’d done this in the past, liked it, but it had been a long time since.

He started pumping his finger in and out and you began to squirm. You were trying to stay still and quiet, trying to hide how good he was making you feel, but he knew. When you pressed your hips back, he added his second finger and you winced.

His fingers already had you feeling so full. That was what you loved most about being with Ransom, you felt almost incomplete whenever he wasn’t in you. Your body was made to take his, to mold to him completely.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, baby,” he began. “You’re going to start sleeping in our bedroom again. Because I am the only man on this planet who can touch you like this and you’re going to stop being such a brat and taking that for granted.”

You scoffed. You were taking him for granted? Of course, every day you didn’t wake up on your knees for him was probably ‘taking him for granted’.

“Yes?”

You nodded, cheek pressed to the mattress. You didn’t care about winning anymore, you needed to be fucked. You lifted your head to look back at him. “Yeah.”

He pushed his third finger as slowly as he could.

You kept your attention on him, watching as his fingers disappeared inside your ass. As he moved his fingers back and forth, he started to tilt his hips. You were hyperaware of everything, you knew where his cock and fingers were, the wall between your two entrances was thin enough that you could feel it all.

He always thought of you as an insatiable, greedy little thing but even he was surprised when you said you wanted more. You wanted his cock, not his fingers, and he figured you were ready for it because you were soaking his length and the sheets.

As he positioned himself over you again, he pulled his cock out of your pussy and you whimpered. He brought his cock up and spread the fingers inside your asshole to open you up for him. You had never experienced Ransom gentler than when he pressed just the tip of his cock into you. You observed in awe, mouth dropped, panting, desperate, soaking. You knew when you were going to feel him, but you were not prepared at all. His cock was bigger than any plug you had used and you were aching.

He groaned when his fingers were out and all that he could feel was you squeezing the hell out of him. “Fuck. Think you can get on your knees for me?”

You nodded but made no moves to do so. He did instead, lifting your hips, and then grabbing your upper arms to keep you there. You pressed your hips down, swallowing more of his cock, whining and moaning at the painful stretch of him.

“Fuck yourself,” he told you.

You were shuddering, body screaming at the uncomfortable angles you were moving. You pushed your hips up until you felt the head of his cock and settled back down until it felt like it was too much, over and over until he knew that your muscles weren’t capable of continuing.

“Almost there,” he promised, lips at your ear. “Almost taking all of my cock, baby.” He let his hands slide down a little, toward your elbows for leverage, and then he started thrusting. He was careful not to go too deep, listening to the sounds you made because words were not your strong point when he was inside you.

You leaned over a bit, unable to hold yourself up completely. You were hovering over the pillows, his hold on you tight enough that you weren’t worried about falling forward. You were practically choking on a scream when one of his hands moved around you to your clit, immediately feeling lightheaded.

You folded over more and Ransom released your arm to grab your hair. Since you weren’t strong enough to hold yourself up completely, he was yanking on the roots of your hair. Your thighs were quivering because you were using them as your only source of balance, and all of that distracted from the painful stretch of his cock driving into you more and more each time.

Your pleasure was slowly climbing. By the time you were coming, your pussy was dripping onto the sheets, you were sweating, shuddering, gasping for air that you couldn’t seem to get enough of.

And he was only halfway inside you. He shoved two fingers into your cunt and used his grip on your hair to shove your face down on the mattress. All his weight pressed down on you until you were flat on the bed, trapping his arm between you and the mattress.

He left you with some space to work, you rode out your high by fucking yourself on his cock and fingers. You were drowning in the sensations, overwhelmingly full of a man that you knew would eventually drive you crazy.

When your body fell limp, he released your hair and grabbed your hip, guiding you to another devastating orgasm. “You still doing okay, baby?”

For a moment, you could only respond with a moan. His thumb brushed over your clit and you gasped. “Daddy, please, please, please—!”

“You think you deserve it, baby?”

“Please make me come,” you begged.

He waited until you were finishing around his fingers and finally, shoved his cock in completely.

You buried your face in the bed, screaming, sobbing, crying his name. He brought his hand from your hip to your hair, petting and shushing you, and that was all you ever needed from Ransom.

He gave you only seconds before his hips were rolling, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. He paid no mind to you, he simply used your body, no matter how much you were shuddering and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

It was almost immediate that he pulled out after he finished and climbed off the bed to pull you with him. Your legs were shaking, but he held you tight to keep you up. He turned your back to him so he could watch his cum drip out of your ass.

When he turned you back to him, he gathered his cum from the inside of your thighs and ran his hand across your mouth. Fucked out, covered in him, you never looked more beautiful.

“This is your home,” he told you. “If you say it isn’t again, you won’t be able to walk for a very long time. Understood?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m convinced yet.”

Ransom tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing and went to the door just to lock it. Was it weird that you thought you might get something out of Linda pounding on the door while her son was absolutely pounding you?

May: the anniversary,

It was Linda and Richard’s anniversary and that meant that everyone living in the house had to celebrate because the Thrombeys were starting to face withdrawals from not receiving enough attention from others.

Joni and Walt had decided to cook dinner that night and it surprisingly did not end in disaster. There were some presents, the family was trying their hand at online shopping and as the days ticked by, more and more packages were showing up every day.

The night was ending with a game of charades, something you and Ransom elected not to take part in beyond watching. The first team was Meg, Walt, and Richard. The second team was Joni, Linda, and Donna, and Jacob was the referee. They needed one, every single game because they were oddly competitive and whenever things got too aggressive, they were given a card, from green to red. Red meant disqualification, you’d only seen it happen twice in all these years, but it was great when it did happen.

You couldn’t help but watch Richard and Linda. They’d been married for so long now, so you didn’t understand why Richard had had his affair when he did. She wasn’t overly young, she had no money, it just didn’t make much sense to you.

You were on Ransom’s lap in the chair in the corner of the room. He had been drinking all night, so you chose not to. You guys were a better team when you were coordinating like that. He was always weird about his parents, you figured that was why he’d been off all day.

“Do you think you could ever forgive someone if they cheated on you?” he asked.

You turned to him, eyebrow arched. “I would murder you.”

He scoffed. “Come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious, Ransom.”

“If I were going to cheat on you, I would have already done it. I meant in a general sense.”

“I don’t think you love someone if you cheat on them,” you reasoned. “So, would I forgive? Maybe, I guess, whatever that even means. But would I stay? Hell no.”

“Right?”

“You talking about your parents?”

“It’s so weird, isn’t it? I mean, not really. Men are men and don’t they all eventually cheat?”

“You are playing with fire having this conversation with me.”

He scoffed. “I just don’t get it, why would she stay?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It seems like you all have your, like, comfortable environments. You don’t really want to leave them…at least she gave him that killer black eye.”

“Yeah,” he recalled with a small smile. “But…I don’t know, I don’t completely blame him, either.”

“Ransom,” you warned.

“No, I’m not saying it’s my mom’s fault, but…she doesn’t exactly love him either. Maybe he thought she used to.”

“Maybe she did.”

“Yeah, maybe…I don’t know, if you’re blackmailing someone essentially—”

“She’s not blackmailing him.”

“He has no money,” he insisted. “He’s terrified. She holds it over him constantly.”

“Ransom, right now, choose. Me or money?”

He turned to you. “No hesitation, I would choose you.”

You were almost surprised to hear that, you thought…you had always thought you were Ransom’s second love, honestly.

“What? Were you expecting something else?”

“I don’t know.” You didn’t want to make him think you thought so low of him. It was a pretty vile accusation.

“You do, that’s fine…because I do believe that if we didn’t have money, it would tear us apart.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You love your diamonds and this house. And I like spoiling the hell out of you… I know those are simple things, but to have to work for things? We couldn’t make it.”

“Well, he obviously wasn’t that scared, or he wouldn’t have cheated. That was my point. You’re acting like money is the most important thing, if it was, he wouldn’t have risked it.”

“True. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your cheek against his. “Ransom, baby, you’re jealous of inanimate objects and you once fucked me every day for a week and didn’t let me come because you thought I was talking to my ex.”

“It depends how it started, that’s all I’m saying. People aren’t perfect, you know.”

“I am,” you declared.

He scoffed. “You let me fuck you while you were dating that ex.”

“You coerced me,” you argued. “I was innocently in my own room and you just showed up—”

“So, you’re saying I seduced you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Can we go to bed? I don’t think there are going to be any fistfights tonight.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I know you were looking forward to that.”

“A bit,” you admitted.

“I’ll tell you about the time my mom tackled Joni at my high school graduation.”

You gasped. “I love when you tell me stories.”

Ultimately, things had gone back to normal with you and Ransom. He was sleeping with you more nights than not, he was in his office much less, things seemed to be in a much better place.

June: the affair,

Until June rolled around.

Then all his office shit started up again, the late nights, the insane number of hours. You tried to be understanding, but then he was abandoning you at family dinners and there was the time some moron rear-ended you and you had to call Walt because Joni and Meg weren’t picking up their phones because it was five in the morning, and Ransom wasn’t either because Ransom wasn’t a reliable boyfriend.

He had been apologetic, and you were just relieved that it had been an overall easy situation, so you didn’t hold it against him. Not until you had to borrow his phone to call yours because you had once again misplaced it. You were, once upon a time, a very organized, together person. Then the Thrombeys moved into your home.

You saw dating apps. Dating apps! On his fucking phone. You had no idea how to react, so you just didn’t. You made the mistake of letting everything grow, everything just pile on top of one another until you were at your breaking point.

Linda liked to poke at you and normally, she couldn’t. Because normally, Ransom was around. Because Ransom knew how his mother was and he knew how you were, and he just didn’t want anyone to end up dead.

That changed one morning when you were making pancakes and she came in for her early morning coffee. She asked where Ransom was and that was really the start of it because she did know. She found it hilarious that Ransom had his own office and never let anyone else in. She hated that she wasn’t allowed in but was placated that you weren’t either.

But you told her where he was anyway because you were attempting to be civil. She pointed out how much time he was spending in his office and you pretended it was common, she then asserted that that was how Richard was behaving during his affair.

And honestly, why hadn’t you thought of it before? He had to be having an affair, you always heard him typing in his office. He was clearly on some website, probably some BDSM chatroom, and you were going to fucking kill him.

It all made sense now, last month when he’d asked you if you would forgive cheating. That was just Ransom being Ransom, he was trying to guess your reaction if you ever found out. Well, you hadn’t been exaggerating, you would kill him.

You stormed up to the office and started pounding on the door. The rest of the family was going to hear you, but they were smart enough to know they better just mind their own business in their rooms.

“Ransom!” you yelled after minutes of no answer. Again, you were met with silence and that was when your irritation became fury. “Ransom, I will kick this fucking door down! You know these doors are old and weak and I can do it!”

Long story short, the doors were stronger than you thought, and you could not do it. The low point of your life was probably having to crawl to Meg’s room and ask her to call their super-expensive home doctor because you had done something terrible to your foot.

Ransom showed up three hours later after you had been all wrapped up and the family was fawning over you. You were being forced to sit on the couch and they would not stop asking you if they could get things for you. You were already wearing three different crystals, Walt had made you hot chocolate, and Jacob was checking his horror movie collection for your favorites.

“What the hell happened?” Ransom demanded.

You glared at him. “Where were you?”

“I was out for a walk.”

“And you didn’t take your phone?” Richard pressed. “We were calling you non-stop.”

“I left it up in my office,” he informed, moving to your side. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“She tried to kick down your office door,” Linda answered.

Ransom gave you an incredulous look. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” you retorted. You never argued in front of the family because you and Ransom were a team. Yes, you fought, but you never wanted to give the family insight on the cracks in your relationship because you knew they would exploit them.

“Enough,” Meg cut in. “No arguing, Dr. Fields told her to take it easy.”

“You had to call the doctor?” he questioned. “What did you do?”

“Fracture,” Linda informed, “Not that big of a deal. Please, continue arguing.”

Everyone else glared at her while you and Ransom glared at one another. It was then that Jacob reappeared with one of the Saw movies. Typically.

August: the book,

You had taken to sleeping in Meg’s room with her because Ransom was a demon, but he wouldn’t try to enter her room. Ever. So, you comfortably stashed yourself away there every night and stayed there most mornings until noon. She didn’t mind. You’d gotten her a tv in there, so you watched Netflix a lot.

You had yet to confront Ransom with your accusations because you were scared. This family was obscene, being part of it was insane, every single person here was terrible in their own right. But you liked talking to Meg, you liked gardening with Joni, you liked reading the newspaper with Walt in the mornings and talking about the crime section. Even Jacob wasn’t the worst company, he liked to watch Dateline with you.

Ransom was convinced that you were just mad at him because you fractured your toes and couldn’t do yoga for a while. You were fine with him believing that because then you would have to have the conversation.

It was an odd situation to be in. You were sure he hadn’t physically done anything, but you weren’t sure if that should make you feel better or worse. He was connecting with someone and after your conversation, it was clear that he also believed you couldn’t cheat on someone you love. Given that he’d never said he loved you, you were rightfully concerned.

Did he ever love you?

Did you just spend almost 7 years with someone who was never going to feel that way about you? Did you throw away all those opportunities with someone else? Did you stupidly choose Ransom over your family?

Did you let this happen?

You had said you couldn’t forgive it, but now you understood why Linda did. If you love someone, you just don’t want to lose them. You hope that they don’t betray you, but what about when they do? It’s not easy to just leave.

You still loved Ransom, you always would. You didn’t want to lose any of the relationships you formed with the family, but it was different with Ransom. You didn’t want to, obviously, but you also couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine a life without him, you couldn’t imagine moving on, you couldn’t imagine being with someone else.

What did that mean?

You weren’t sure about the long-term answer, but short-term, it meant that you were going to pretend. He wasn’t cheating, he didn’t have dating apps on his phone, he didn’t even have an office as far as you were concerned.

Nothing. Everything was perfect.

Until Jacob’s birthday. You weren’t aware of it before, but unsurprisingly, he was a fucking Leo. You made a mental note to investigate the astrology of certain serial killers Jacob reminded you of, but you would do that with Meg later.

You were helping Walt and Joni cook this time. Apparently, they were the only Thrombeys that knew how to cook and were pleased to have another addition to the small team. It wasn’t a particularly difficult meal, lasagna with garlic bread, but it was Jacob’s favorite.

The plans had been made the week prior, Ransom was going to do one thing for you. Just one, you asked for so little. He would pick up the cake at noon and hide it in the second kitchen. Hide because Jacob wasn’t aware this was happening. He didn’t like to be the center of attention and if he knew this was happening before it was actually happening, he would do anything he could to stop it.

But come 2 PM, three hours after the cake was set to be picked up, you received a call from the bakery. You had let them know that your boyfriend was going to pick it up and you left his name with them and everything, all Ransom needed to do was show up.

The woman on the phone informed you that that didn’t happen, and they were about to close because of pandemic hours. You promised you would be in before she needed to shut the doors and since you were comfortable with your window of time, this was done. Over. First, you were going to yell at Ransom.

You quietly made your way to his office and listened with your ear pressed to the door. You didn’t make a sound until you heard him typing, then you started banging on the door with both hands.

It was seconds later that he answered the door, a confused look on his face over your apparent urgency. He looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter and smelled like a lot of alcohol. “What?”

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

“What? What do you need?”

You tried to open the door, but he held it in place.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You were getting into that office because you were going to find out what he was doing, he was not going to continue to lie to you. You kicked his shin and when his leg buckled, you shoved your way in.

“Hey!” He hurriedly shut the door behind you. He did not want anyone else getting in.

It looked like a normal office. There was a full bookshelf of titles that you couldn’t read because your anger was blurring your vision, there was a desk, a laptop, chairs, a bar cart, not a thing out of the ordinary. What the fuck was he doing in here all day?

There was only one logical answer. You finally turned to him, hands on your hips. “Who is she, Ransom?”

“What?”

“I know you’ve been cheating on me and I’m not going to play this game with you! I just want to know who the fuck she is!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“Yes, I’m out of my fucking mind! I’ve been living with your psychotic family since March, dealing with their shit on top of yours, and you are now cheating on me! Please explain to me how anyone else wouldn’t also be out of their mind!”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“Really?! Then what the fuck are you always doing up here?”

He paused at that.

The camel’s back broke. This was officially over. You turned around and rushed to his computer. He only took a second before he realized what you were doing and followed you there.

“I swear to everything above, if you are in some pathetic chatroom—”

He leaned over you just as you reached for the laptop and slammed it shut. “I’m not cheating on you!”

“Then let me see your fucking laptop!” You didn’t care that he had his hands planted on it, you still grabbed the opposite ends and tried to pull it out from under him. It wasn’t a logical plan since he was much stronger than you, but you weren’t necessarily operating on logic.

“You are crazy,” he asserted.

You moved your hands to the top edge of the laptop and threw your entire body back into Ransom. More than anything, it probably shocked him into moving back. Had you known that it was going to work, you probably would have been better about keeping your footing. Since that wasn’t the case, you both ended up on the floor and for a split second, the laptop was only in your hands.

You dove forward, just inches from the door.

Ransom rushed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back down.

You knew he was going to get you under him, you wrapped your arms tight around the laptop and started screaming. Joni or Richard might feel inclined to call the police if they thought the two of you were honestly fighting.

Ransom slammed his hand down on your mouth as he crawled over you, knees pressed to your hips to keep you pinned there. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

You didn’t say a word and you didn’t let your hold on the laptop waver for even a second.

“If I move my hand, you better not scream again,” he warned.

Obviously, you were going to. As soon you could, you yelled, “Call the police, he’s going to kill—!”

Ransom covered your mouth again, eyes wide at you. “You have lost it!”

It was then that you realized you needed to do something. He had the upper hand, and he was going to get the laptop away from you if you did nothing. You started swiping at him with both elbows and knees, never catching anything, but making him nervous enough to back off a little.

Fuck it, he was done trying to be reasonable with you. He moved his hand again, but only to start fighting with you over the laptop again.

“Let it go!” you shrieked.

“You let it go!” he countered. “It’s mine!”

“Not anymore, cheater!”

“I’m not fucking cheating on you!”

“If you have some online BDSM girlfriend, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“What? What the hell goes through your mind!?”

“You’re constantly in here and you won’t let me in, and you never tell me what you’re doing, you never tell anyone else either—”

“Because I hate my family,” he reminded.

“And clearly, you hate me!”

“I don’t hate you, you’re being childish.”

“Tell me her name, Ransom, or so help me—”

“I’m not cheating!”

“I saw the dating apps on your god damn phone!”

“I am not cheating!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

“I’m writing a book!” he hissed.

You froze. He was what?

He kept his voice quiet, “That’s where I was a couple months ago, the meeting that I told you was none of your business. I only had a few chapters, but I got a deal out of it—”

“Get off me.”

He blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so, helping you up, no longer interested in stealing away the laptop.

You held onto it because you weren’t yet sure if you were going to use it to cause severe bodily harm to him. He was writing a book and didn’t tell you? You didn’t know he was interested in writing at all. You didn’t know he could sit down and write more than one entire sentence. He was always moving around, throwing himself into mindless activities.

A book?

You were hurt. Getting a book deal was major and he didn’t tell you he was trying for it, but then he didn’t even tell you that he’d gotten it. He had this huge thing in his life that he kept separate from you and that hurt your feelings.

“That’s was the apps were,” he explained. “I was doing research. Honestly, I’ll let you see the profiles, they’re not even pictures of me. I haven’t spoken to anyone either, it’s just very basic—”

You held the laptop out to him.

He slowly took it back from you, preparing for any other extreme reaction you might have. What he wasn’t expecting was complete silence, he figured you must have been confused by this. It was rather sudden, even for him. “You going to say something?”

You debated for a long while. You wanted to ask why he was pushing you away. You wanted to ask if it was because he didn’t think you were supportive, if he just didn’t want you to know, then you wanted to know why that was. What had you ever done that made him think he couldn’t tell you about this?

“I have to go get Jacob’s cake.”

“Shit!” He ran his hand down his face. “I completely forgot—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Then you were rushing out, ignoring the curious looks from the family on the way.

October: Ransom’s birthday,

It had been seven weeks since you found out about the book and seven weeks since you last had an actual conversation with Ransom. That was your doing purely, and he made the attempts, but you ignored them.

Linda was thrilled. This was different than when you and Ransom were fighting, because fighting indicated that you had the desire to win, he had the desire to win, but then that meant a resolution would follow. If you were ignoring him, what did you want? She hoped it was the end of the road for the two of you.

You weren’t sure. About anything. But you just had to go day by day and listen to yourself. Up to now, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. As time went on and you were left to wallow in your hurt feelings, you were wondering if maybe this was the end.

Seven years and he didn’t tell you he was writing a book? That was insane, that was inexcusable. You didn’t get to have any part of your life not completely exposed to Ransom and you were okay with that. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same.

Seven years, a nearly dead modeling career, no skills, no aim in life. You had no idea how you would start all over. You had no idea how you would live your life without being Ransom’s girlfriend. It was practically a title, like the queen, and you loved it. You loved him.

But he didn’t tell you about the book! How could you get over that? Well, you could talk to him, but you were not going to do that. You just weren’t ready because you would want to know why and all the answers that were playing out in your mind were not going to make you feel better.

It didn’t matter, or more correctly, it couldn’t matter. Ransom’s birthday was coming up and Linda was trying to fight you on everything.

It was October, the worst of the pandemic was over, wasn’t it? No, you didn’t think so and anyone with two solid IQ points wouldn’t either. She wanted some family over, some of his friends—Megan, you had heard her mention to Richard. You didn’t want a single person in your house, no one outside of the family.

She suggested going to a restaurant then, but you knew Ransom hated when they threw him parties like that.

She wanted him to have a red velvet cake and you knew that Ransom hated red velvet. He preferred lemon, but he told you that you were never allowed to get him a lemon cake because he would eat it all. He was fine with chocolate, didn’t hate it, didn’t love it.

If you weren’t going out, then she wanted catering from his favorite restaurant, and a minimum of 30 people over, the house was big enough for it. It wasn’t even his favorite restaurant, the one she wouldn’t stop talking about, you knew for a fact Ransom did not like 30 people, and the house was not big enough for it.

On top of all of that, she kept asking you what you were going to get him. She just didn’t want to get the same thing. Why would that happen? Why would she get him the same thing as you? You had no idea, but she insisted on knowing. Problem was, you didn’t have an answer to give her. You had no idea what you were going to get Ransom.

Three days before his birthday, Ransom found you on the floor of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to your forehead. It was three in the morning, you had most of the lights off, only your phone and laptop providing light. Even in the dim kitchen, he could tell that you had been crying, eyes puffy and red, tear tracks down your cheeks.

He had been in his office, more writing. He’d only come down for a glass of water, sure that no one else would be awake at such an odd hour. This was the first time in a long time that he had seen you alone, and this naked. Usually, you were surrounded by the family, Joni being the greatest culprit. And since you still weren’t sleeping in the bedroom, he hadn’t seen you in your tiny shorts and bralettes.

He sat down at your side, setting his hand on your thigh. “Hey, is everything okay?”

You tossed the icepack onto the floor. “I never got stress headaches before your family moved in.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

It was silent for several moments after that, you were thinking about how you wanted to approach this topic. It was clear now, in your mind, why he hadn’t told you about the book. “I never listen to you.”

He turned to you, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

You were already crying again, tears rolling down your face. You had felt terrible these past few weeks and you were finally beginning to understand why. “I don’t listen, I’m a terrible listener.”

“No,” he protested. “You’re not a terrible listener—”

“I have no idea what to get you for your birthday. I never know, I never get you a good present.”

“Yes, you do,” he argued. “And you don’t need to get me anything—”

“Of course, I do!” you blurted out. Was he insane? This was his birthday, you couldn’t not get him something for his birthday. “This is why you didn’t tell me about the book, right?”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Because I don’t listen,” you explained. “Why would you tell me about it if I wasn’t even going to listen, right?”

“Baby,” he sighed, “That’s not why I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, honestly—”

“You didn’t tell me you were writing, you didn’t tell me you were trying to get published, and then you didn’t tell me about the book deal.”

“I know…I was going to.”

“But?” you prompted. “How could you not tell me about any of it?”

“I was worried.”

“Why?”

“Because of fucking Harlan. He’s the world’s best mystery author, for whatever fucking reason. I was worried that you wouldn’t think I should do this. I was worried about how it would look. I don’t want to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps like the rest of my pathetic family.”

“So, were you just never going to say anything about it?”

“Well…maybe. There’s something else… I wasn’t sure I was going to use my name, so it was completely possible that I could keep you from ever finding out about them. And if you ever got suspicious, maybe publish a few of the others under my real name.”

“Others? What are you talking about?”

“So…my book deal is for, at the very least, three books. In a series. If they do well, I can do others, with the possibility of keeping this series going…whenever I feel inspired to do so.”

“Okay…what’s the series about?”

“A woman.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“A very mean woman,” he clarified. “She’s a black widow, you know, marries rich men, murders them, takes the money…and I’ve sort of been using your name.”

Your eyebrows slowly rose. “You’ve been writing about me?”

“No,” he immediately protested, then sighed. “Okay, a little, but she’s beautiful. I mention that a lot, I promise.”

Yes, you were relieved. But was he completely off the hook? You slapped his shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“Hey,” he held his hand to the skin that you had just smacked. “Ow, maybe don’t hit me just days away from my birthday if you didn’t get me anything.”

“God, Ransom, I was really hurt.”

“I’m sorry about that. Really, I know I rarely ever apologize and sometimes, I don’t mean it, but I mean it now.”

“Well, can I read some of it?”

He smirked. “I don’t know, baby girl, you haven’t been behaving lately. You tried to break into my office, hurt yourself, and then did break into my office to steal my laptop. You thought I was cheating on you.”

“I saw dating apps, Ransom.”

“After we talked about my parents—”

“You lock yourself in your office for, like, 20 hours at a time—”

“And some BDSM chatroom? Because you’re normal in bed?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating, but you should have told me about the book. Which you apologized for, so it just cancels out. Let’s do what we usually do and just pretend it never happened.”

“You told Joni to call the cops,” he reminded.

You shrugged. “I miss Wagner, he probably would have been over here immediately.”

He snorted. “Okay, we both made mistakes, but you’re right.”

With his agreement to move on, you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please?”

“I’m not completely convinced yet,” he teased.

Rolling your eyes, you kissed him. “Now?”

“You’re getting closer.”

You scoffed and kissed him again, reaching into his sweatpants to pull out his cock. It didn’t take long to get him hard and as soon as you did, you used your other hand to pull your shorts aside. You broke away from the kiss to watch his face as you slowly slid down his length.

His hands gripped your hips and he nodded. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want.”

You smiled. “Perfect, let’s get it now.”

He snorted. “Wow, now you’re a fucking comedian?”

“Well, you’re an author,” you retorted.

He nodded once. “You have a point. I vaguely remember what I wrote, want me to tell you?”

You nodded. You wanted to hear it in his voice, you were going to demand that he read it to you anyway.

“Her first husband was a writer,” he informed.

You lifted your eyebrows. Was that supposed to be clever?

“He often wrote poetry about how devastatingly beautiful he found her.”

You rolled your eyes a little, turning down to stare at his chest. He was wearing a shirt, but you could still see the muscles through the white material. “How did she kill him?”

“Scared him to death, she is very scary.”

You bit your cheek to prevent a smile.

“His fault, though. He was never healthy, did a few drugs he shouldn’t have. Drank too much, never ate right. He had a weak heart anyway.”

You hummed.

He wrapped his arm around your back and rolled you over onto the floor underneath him. He pulled your thighs apart before placing both hands on the floor for balance. Slowly, he pulled out and drove back in hard.

You gasped his name, arms winding tightly around his torso.

“He loves her skin,” he asserted.

You nodded encouragingly, you wanted him to tell you everything. “Mhm.”

“Loves how soft she is, especially her thighs, and he loves how she bruises.” He was steadily rocking his hips, speaking just loud enough that you could hear him over the wet noises of his cock sliding in and out of your body, but quiet enough that you were sure no one else would hear.

You reminded yourself you were downstairs, on the kitchen floor, it was important to remain quiet. Ransom’s family had caught you in a lot of low moments over the years, but this would take the cake. You turned your head, burying your face in the bend of his neck.

“He loves her neck, how perfectly it fits in his hands. He loves her lips, how they look wrapped around him, or when she’s smiling—”

“You wrote that?” you breathed.

“This isn’t some school-book-report shit like what Harlan was publishing.”

“Those weren’t children’s books,” you felt inclined to point out.

“Well, mine have sex.”

You snorted. “You’re going to write about other men fucking me?”

“A woman here and there,” he explained. “That’s why they have to die such horrible deaths.”

You laughed briefly, pressing your mouth to his shoulder when you worried you would moan.

“He loves her legs, how tightly they wrap around him.” As he spoke, he lifted your legs one at a time, pressing them to the sides of his body as a cue to hook your ankles together. “He loves her arms, how easily he can pin them above her head.” Again, he did just that and you were forced to lay flat on the floor, clamping your mouth shut to stifle the noises spilling out.

After managing to get both wrists in one hand, he placed his opposite forearm off to your side and set all his weight there. You could feel it in the way he got heavier against your hips, trapping you between him and the floor, controlling every aspect of how he was going to make you come.

He stared down at your face for a moment, watching you struggle to keep your composure as he was fucking into you harder now. He leaned down and your eyes fell shut, he kissed over both eyelids and said, “He loves her eyes, even when she’s looking up at him, demanding something, a new diamond necklace, a car, but won’t actually say the words because she’s so fucking spoiled.”

You smirked and he felt it, and his hips snapped up harshly to get it to stop. It only worked for a moment. You were smug, Ransom was pouring his heart out to you and confessed that he liked that you were spoiled? You would never let him live this down.

“He loves her cheeks,” he started kissing across your face and you couldn’t help but smile, “Especially when she’s doing that.” He stopped to pay special attention to your nose, “And he loves her nose, even though she hates it. And he loves when she pouts,” he lowered his mouth to give you several chaste pecks, until you were pouting because he wouldn’t just kiss you.

With a scoff, he finally let you kiss him back. It didn’t last long before he was on the move again, pressing his lips to your chin and proclaiming the fictional character’s love of that, then your jaw, your clavicle, and once he tore your bralette out of the way, your breasts.

As he continued to move down, he was sliding his cock out by the inch and you were trying to stop him from getting too far, you were desperately pulling at him with your legs, but Ransom was much stronger than you.

“He loves her stomach,” he muttered into your skin as he descended and finally, his cock slipped out. Because of that, he had to let your wrists go but you knew better than to try to move them.

“Ransom, please—”

“And he loves her hips.” As he pulled down your shorts, he kissed the skin he exposed, almost frantically alternating between left and right. Once the shorts were down, he spread your thighs and looked up at you. “And he fucking loves her pussy.”

You let out a strangled, high-pitched sound as he dove down and wrapped his lips around your clit. He stared at you the entire time as he sucked for a few seconds, then flicked his tongue back and forth, only to repeat the pattern until you were crying and squirming, staying in the position he had placed you in.

When he knew you were close, he pulled back. He only set small kisses to your aching center, hands moving up and down your hips, your stomach, your thighs. “He loves how sweet it tastes, he loves how fucking tight it is, how it feels like his cock was made to be inside it—”

“Ransom, please,” you blurted out. Your arms were stinging with the desire to reach down for him, but you knew that would change the path of this entire night. You just needed to be fucked. Simply. Intimately. None of the elaborate shit you both usually tried.

In seconds, he had made his way over you and was inside you again. You wrapped yourself around him, arms and legs, and held onto him tight enough that you were sure he wouldn’t be able to get away again.

“He loves every fucking inch of her,” he stated. “Because she’s his, she belongs to him and she’s never going to belong to anyone else.”

You scoffed. “But she kills him?”

“Well, she’s a complex woman.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not complex.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I just want you and this house, and I want all of this shit to be over so we can get rid of your family.”

He kissed you shortly. “That makes two of us, baby.”

There was a difference between loving something about someone and truly being in love with someone. You’d always loved things about Ransom, but it took you about a solid year to confidently admit that you were in love with him. He could say that he loved everything about you, but that was not him finally saying it.

“Does she love him?” you wondered.

He shrugged a shoulder. “He thinks so.”

“Does he love her?” This wasn’t asking for too much. Ransom could hide behind this fictional creation of his and say yes, and you would never ask again. You just wanted to hear it once, that wasn’t unfair.

He considered his answer for a long time, breaking eye contact to look down at where his fingers were hovering over your shoulder. He began to trace shapes there, still contemplating. “Sometimes…she thinks so.”

“But does he?” you pressed.

Again, more silence. He was trying to gauge what he could get away with. He always knew this was going to wear on you eventually, but he never thought it was going to be during one of the times he was inside you. How could you not feel how he felt about you? “I think—”

“Are you fucking serious!?”

You immediately knew whose voice that was—Linda. Shutting your eyes, you let your head rest back on the floor. The headache you had been crying over earlier was returning.

“RICHARD!” She turned out of the kitchen and began storming back to her room. “Richard, wake up! You need to talk to your son! Is there no place in this house anymore that is sacred?!”

Ransom sighed deeply and you looked up at him. “Well, do you want to make you come first before we go upstairs?”

You shrugged. “Okay. Hurry up, we don’t have to be quiet anymore.”

November: thanksgiving,

Ransom was on his best behavior, you theorized that was because he didn’t want you to again ask him for more of that insane basic human emotion. Whatever, you could not dwell. There were people dying in this world, and you wanted to waste time crying over your boyfriend who gave you everything you wanted, but just wouldn’t say a certain word to you?

Well, the answer was yes, but it was Thanksgiving and the Thrombeys had about a million and one weird-ass family traditions. That meant you were short on time to be pouting.

It was a freezing, perfect day. It had snowed all night and the house looked like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Yes, this was going to be a complicated day with a lot of personalities that were butting heads because everyone had been together for way too long, but you were feeling festive. You wanted to make the best of the day and you planned to force the rest of the family to follow your lead.

The start of the traditions was donating money. You were the one who brought it up as soon as Richard tried to skip down the list. It always started with donating. Harlan would write checks for half a million dollars and let every member choose where they wanted to donate, the past three years you were included in that. Harlan always liked you, probably more than he liked some of his actual family.

“I’m just not sure,” Donna was saying, “We haven’t made much money this year.”

“Are you kidding?” Meg demanded. “Your husband’s publishing company is still seeing sale increases.”

“Because of the death of the author,” Linda pointed out. “Meaning, we should be a lot more frugal. The money will not be coming in the same way that it was.”

“This is not up for debate,” you snapped. “Everyone pick a god damn charity. Harlan insisted on this every single year, and we are going to continue it. Unless you all would like to provoke his ghost to come murder us. He died in this house after all!”

“It’s money,” Ransom pointed out. “We have more than enough, some people don’t have any.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “My son is just trying to get you to have sex with him.”

You glared.

“Mother,” Ransom sighed. “This isn’t a discussion. Just pick your damn charity.”

“Donna, it’s fine,” Walt promised. “Meg’s right, we’ve had a great year. And Y/N is right, Dad always wanted us to do this. I will start with my usual charity, Homes for Our Troops.”

“Fantastic.” You took the check as soon as he handed it over. “Donna?”

“American Cancer Society, of course.” She held it out for you and then looked to Jacob. “I think this year—”

“I have a charity picked,” Jacob informed.

Everyone fell silent. Likely, everyone’s immediate suspicion was Trump’s request for donations since he was still insisting the election was fraudulent. However, no one said anything because no one wanted to be the first victim of Jacob’s impending murder spree.

“Can’t I pick my own?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you answered. “You can, because everyone can pick their own charity.”

“Yeah,” Walt echoed. “Of course.”

He wrote the name down and slid the check across the table to you.

Ransom’s hand tightened on your thigh, a reminder not to let anyone antagonize you this holiday.

“Canines for Disabled Kids,” you read. “Jacob, that’s really great…I didn’t even know that was a charity.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I like the idea that they can have dogs as friends and don’t have to make human friends. Humans are so stupid.” Then he returned all his attention to his phone.

“And we’re back,” Richard muttered.

Donna’s head snapped in his direction.

“Okay,” you interjected. “Joni?”

She chose a foundation interested in ending childhood obesity, received a snide comment from Meg about how even her acts of kindness were vain, and you intervened before it became bigger than that. Meg chose an organization that works to stop childhood prostitution, Linda went for homeless youth, and Richard selected Make-A-Wish Foundation. Walt felt the need to sarcastically commend him for his originality.

“Enough,” you said before Richard could respond. “My dearest Ransom, what have you chosen?”

He smiled at you. “Animal Legal Defense Fund. Their tagline is: all our clients are innocent.”

You nodded. “They are. All animals are innocent.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Can we move on?”

“Okay, mine is—”

“I can’t believe you don’t have a problem that she’s basically brainwashing our son,” Linda interrupted, turning to Richard.

“Linda, please,” Richard sighed.

“My charity,” you spoke loudly, gaining their attention once more, “Is Planned Parenthood.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “You want to donate your money to abortions?”

You glared. “That’s not all Planned Parenthood does, but…yes, I do. Babies suck, if a woman doesn’t want to have it, she doesn’t have to.”

Joni nodded. “I agree, completely. I’ve been learning in my group about how we are only placed on this earth to offer up our vibrations to one another. Our obligations do not exceed that. We don’t have to be anything! Not a mother, not a wife—”

“Oh, shut up!” Linda barked.

“Mother, calm down,” Ransom dismissed. “I don’t believe for a second any of you have not either had an abortion or been an accessory to one in the past.”

“I would never!” she gasped, pointing a finger at him. “And you better not ever let her!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that happening. I’ve been thinking about eliminating that possibility, surgically—”

Linda’s mouth dropped.

This was, of course, untrue. Ransom would, first, never sacrifice any part of himself for that reason. Second, the matter had not been discussed yet. You guys weren’t even thinking about marriage, so of course, children weren’t being brought up. But that morning, Ransom woke up in the mood for chaos, and maybe you sort of did, too.

“I wanted a second child,” she told Richard, “You said to stop after Ransom because he was “perfect”.”

“I did say that,” he muttered to himself, a look of pure regret on his face.

You smiled at Ransom. “You are perfect.”

He kissed you, gaining disapproving noises from most of the table.

“I will never be a grandmother!” Linda yelled, burying her hands in her hair and resting her shoulders on the table.

You glanced at Ransom.

He nodded toward the kitchen. “Now that that’s done, let’s start cooking.”

Joni and Meg were currently searching the entire house for the Christmas decorations. They always ended up getting put in the strangest places and since you and Ransom had moved in and not known where they were, you moved basically everything. It was possible that you were going to have to make do with the decorations you and Ransom had been using for the past five years at his house.

You had, however, purchased a lot of lights because the Thrombeys loved their blue lights. Tacky, you wanted the yellow lights and made sure to buy enough that even a single blue light needed to be on that house. Ransom was excitedly awaiting his mother’s reaction to that.

Every year, Richard and Walt would put lights on the house while the dinner was cooking. Ransom should have helped but no one actually thought Ransom would lift a finger, so no one wasted their breath. He was only helping you cook because, as mentioned, he was pretending to be a good boyfriend.

But he was a monster, a true monster that was currently squashing even more of your dreams. “The answer isn’t just no, it’s fuck no.”

You glared. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“You asked if it was a good idea.”

“I think it is.”

“Then why did you ask me at all?”

“Because I thought you would be nice for a second, just a second, Ransom. I’m not asking for a lot.”

“We are not getting Jacob a dog.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate dogs.”

“Well, I hate you,” you hissed.

He rolled his eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. This day is tiring enough already—”

“We’ll get him a small one, it doesn’t need to be those huge horses your mother calls dogs. A chihuahua, maybe. A Pomeranian, a dachshund—”

“Absolutely not, we already have Joni here, I don’t want some yappy animal—”

“Ransom!” you whined. “If we get him a dog, he might not become a serial killer.”

“He already is a serial killer, love, these are just the early years when he’s finding himself. The answer is still no.”

“Ugh, fine, can you just make the pie crusts, please?”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Three? For what?”

“Pumpkin, apple, pecan, Ransom. The same things your family has served every single year I’ve been here, and presumably, all the ones before that.”

“Ugh.” He stood at the counter reading the recipe, muttering his disapproval, up until he saw the ingredients on the counter. “What is all of this?”

“Um, you know that recipe in your hand? The final product doesn’t just appear.”

“No, what is all of this…gluten-free flour, oat flour? Where’s the normal flour?”

“That is normal flour, Ransom.”

“No,” he argued. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s normal to some people,” you countered. “And this year, it’s normal to us. Joni went out and bought the groceries. If you wanted something, you could have done it yourself.”

“You wouldn’t let me leave the house! You kept saying I was going to get sick and die.”

“You could have ordered them!”

“You can’t be serious. On top of this dreadful year, you’re trying to make us eat healthy food on Thanksgiving?”

“Ransom, make the pie crusts!”

It was silent for several minutes, probably because you were using the mixer to make the pumpkin filling. As soon as it was off, Ransom was acting like you’d asked him to perform surgery.

“What does toss mean?”

“What?”

“It says to toss the ingredients.”

“Um, like, stir, I guess.”

“You guess or you know?”

“Just fucking stir, Ransom. I make pies all the time.”

He huffed. “No, oh, no. No, this is telling me to touch things with my hands, that’s disgusting and I’m not doing that.”

You turned back, eyes wide. “Ransom!”

“I’m not touching butter with my hands!”

“What is wrong with you!? It’s cooking, you have to use your hands to cook!”

“I don’t like touching butter!”

“How would you know? You’ve never cooked a day in your life!”

“I’m not touching it,” he claimed.

You took a slow breath in and released it while counting to ten. “Then switch with me and make the apple pie filling.”

“Great.” He walked to your counter as you walked to his. “What is this? What’s in this bowl?”

“The pumpkin pie filling. Cover it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s where the apples are.”

His next question came after he pulled out the bag of apples. “These?”

You turned back, blinking. “Yes, Ransom, those are apples.”

“I have to cut them?”

“And peel them.”

“That’s going to take forever.”

“Ransom, I’m about to smack you.”

“This is a lot!” he pointed out. “Why are we the only people cooking?”

“We’re not, not anymore,” you decided. “Get out, you can go help your father and Walt with the Christmas lights.”

“And you’re going to cook alone?”

“I basically already am.” You turned around to walk to the sink to wash your hands. Unlike Ransom, you weren’t making one pie crust at a time, and you would only need to do this once. When you turned around, you knew Ransom was behind you, but you had no idea what he was doing.

You only saw how close he was when you felt something wet and cold against the side of your face. Whatever it was, he dragged it all the way to the opposite cheek. You smelled and tasted the frosting that you had made for the sugar cookies.

He peeled the frosted star-shaped cookie off your skin and ate one of the corners. “Your blood-sugar seemed low, I thought I’d help.”

You tore the cookie out of his hand and shoved it directly in his face.

He scattered back, eyes wide in shock—as if he expected anything less? “What is wrong with you?!”

You grabbed the retractable faucet from the sink and turned the water on.

“Do not!”

It was a warning you ignored. Within seconds, he was slipping along the kitchen floor, rushing back to you to get the faucet out of your hands. As soon as he had it, he turned it on you, and you screamed like a cat about to be thrown in a bathtub.

“Stop it!” you ordered. “You are ruining Thanksgiving!”

“You’re ruining it!”

You elbowed him hard enough that he dropped the faucet, then kicked your heels off to run to the counter with the cookies and frosting.

“Don’t you dare!” He rushed after you and wrestled the cookie out of your hand, ultimately crushing it into crumbs that scattered all over the counter and the floor.

You shoved your opposite hand into one of the bowls of frosting, whipping around to place your hand on his face.

“What the fuck?!” But he leaned down, clearly uninterested in an answer, and pressed his face into your hair.

“My hair?!” you shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!”

There were several sets of steps that you both heard, but neither of you wanted to let the other get the upper hand. When the family finally found you, you had slipped, ended up on your ass, and Ransom was holding you down, claiming that you caused too many problems when you were on your feet.

“What the hell is going on?!” Joni questioned.

“Ransom, get off of her!” Meg pushed her way between the two of you, pulling you onto your feet. “Oh, my god, what is going on? Are you okay?”

Well, you were both soaking wet, layered in frosting, furiously trying to get another cookie to throw at the other. Were you okay? Only physically. Mentally, you weren’t sure either one of you was ever on solid ground there.

“Enough!” Linda yelled. “What is this insanity!? We need to be eating in less than an hour and as per usual, you two can’t go five minutes without fighting! That’s it, everyone get out of this kitchen! This is why I cook, this is why I do everything! I’m the only one that can!”

She turned away to open the door to usher everyone out and you took your chance to get some type of retaliation that you had been longing for since before the damn stay-at-home order.

You were able to reach for a cookie before either Meg or Ransom could stop you, and no one had ever dreamed your target would be Linda, so for a detrimental moment, their reactions were nonexistent. Essentially, everyone could only stare in pure horror as they realized the cookie was darting straight for the back of Linda’s head. Which, in your defense, wasn’t your exact intention. You thought her back, not her head…but well, there was a reason you weren’t a professional athlete.

Gasps filled the room as soon as the cookie contacted Linda’s head, then again when it fell to the floor. Linda slowly turned, eyes wide, jaw set, shoulders tense—that must be where Ransom got it.

“This is my house,” you reminded. “You do not get to order me out of my kitchen!”

She looked at Ransom, silently urging him to make his alliance known right then. Before he had to say anything, yelling sounded from outside the house. Walt and Richard had yet to finish the one job they had, everyone figured that was the cause of the disturbance.

Quickly, you all made your way out to the front of the house. Richard had his leg wrapped up in a mess of lights and was hanging from the edge of the house. The same vines of lights were also wound around Walt, who was hanging onto the house for dear life.

“Oh, my god!” Donna yelled. “Oh, my god!”

“Are you serious?” Linda demanded. “There is a pandemic! You guys seriously want to end up in the god damn hospital during a pandemic?”

Joni sighed in utter frustration. “Walt, just hang on. We’ll get Richard down—”

“Oh, my god!” Donna continued, despite the lack of panic coming from literally every other single person present. Even Walt seemed less alarmed than her. She started running to Richard and on any other day, it would have been an effortless plan of action. On this day, that Massachusetts had just seen a hell of a lot of snow, when the pavement was dangerously icy, she fell.

Meg screamed. “Oh, my god, I’m calling Dr. Fields!”

“He’s a doctor!” Joni pointed out. “A physical doctor—he won’t know how to deal with this sheer stupidity unless someone broke a bone!”

Donna, now over her initial shock, was attempting to get up.

“Donna, I think you’re hurt,” Meg said. “Just stay—”

Jacob was cautiously moving closer to her, directing her to stay put when Walt had finally lost his battle with the house. His hands slipped off and he went sliding down the edge of the roof. Richard hit the floor first, eliciting more screams from Meg and Donna, and then Walt followed onto several snow-covered bushes, and everyone lost their minds.

“I’m calling Dr. Fields! I am fucking calling Dr. Fields right now!” Meg repeated, shaking so much she could hardly get the phone out of her pocket, let alone find which one she had placed it in.

Joni began making her way through the snow to check if Richard was okay.”

“Oh, my god!” Donna was still repeating.

“Mom, just stay down,” Jacob said.

“Jesus,” Ransom snapped. “How hard is it to put these god damn lights on this god damn house?” He was following Joni, confident in the theory that his father was simply being dramatic. Walt, on the other hand, might have needed medical attention.

Meg watched her feet as she was walking back inside. “Dr. Fields, we have a serious emergency right now. I think everyone’s dying!”

Ransom and Joni were helping Richard sit up when he turned back to you. “Hey, get inside, you’re wet and going to get sick.”

He had a point, so without argument, you turned to do so. You felt the boniest of hands on your shoulders before you were shoved down face-first into the snow.

That was when Joni started screaming. “Oh, my god, call the police! She’s going to kill her. Meg, call the police!”

Meg ran out of the house and saw what was happening and once again, started to panic. “Dr. Fields, you need to get here immediately!”

Before you even fully processed what had happened, Linda was on top of you turning you onto your back.

“You stole my house!” she screeched.

“Linda!” Richard scolded.

You saw her hands go for your throat—later, everyone would claim she was probably doing something else, she obviously wasn’t going to choke you. You did the only thing you could think to do, you grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in her face.

She toppled over and you made your way on top of her. You weren’t going to hit your boyfriend’s mother, but you did proceed to throw snow in her face until Ransom had gotten you off her.

The grand total of injuries was seven. Yet, the total of injuries that had occurred directly in the incident was five. Donna had a bruised tailbone, Richard had a broken leg, Walt had a sprained wrist, your knee was cut up fairly terribly since you fell on it when Linda pushed you, and Linda had stitches on her cheek because the first time you threw snow at her, there was a huge block of ice that you weren’t aware of. After Richard pointed out that you hadn’t started the altercation, she punched him, and he now had a swollen eye. After Ransom had gotten you inside, Meg, in her state of panic, hadn’t seen the door was shut and walked straight into it, and her nose was broken.

You weren’t sure how this family had managed more disaster with nearly 300 fewer people, but there you were. Ransom had forced you into the shower to get all the frosting out of your hair and to hopefully prevent the cold he suspected you were going to catch given the tiny outfit you were parading around in outside.

He lured you out of the shower with a mug of hot chocolate. Every space heater in the house was gathered in your bedroom and as soon as you were in his reach, Ransom wrapped you up in at least three heavy blankets.

When he sat you down on the bed, he pulled your leg out so he could tend to your knee. You felt like a child with him sat next to you with a first aid kit, too-delicately prodding at your irritated, aching skin. He was babying you.

You didn’t feel guilty for what you had done to Linda, but you did hate that Ransom was in the middle. “I’m s—”

He held his hand up to you. “Don’t.”

“But—”

He turned up to you. “Babe, she attacked you.”

“I…threw a cookie at her.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that was a little crazy.”

“I am sorry,” you huffed. “We said we weren’t going to let them bother us today.”

“You finally told her this was your house. I’ve wanted that since we first moved in. I know what we said, but all in all, I think we gained more than we lost.”

“What did we gain, Ransom?”

“Well, she knows you’re scrappy so she might think twice before pushing you again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything else?”

“Everyone is going to be preoccupied taking care of each other, Joni doting on Meg, my mom basically doing everything for my dad, Walt and Donna being overly protective of one another…”

“So, we can have sex in the kitchen and there’s a higher chance we won’t get caught?”

“That was exactly what I was thinking.”

You shrugged. “If we got Jacob a dog—”

“You know what?” he cut in. “Get out of these blankets, I haven’t spanked you in a long time even though you’ve deserved it about five times over by now.”

He made a show of attempting to get you out of the blankets even though you both knew he wouldn’t do it. You laughed the entire time until Ransom laid himself out on top of you, uncaring about how heavy he was.

“Is everyone okay?”

“They’ll live.”

“Well, I know Meg will—she’s going to get a nose job.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You are just going to have to live vicariously through her.”

“We kinda ruined Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I did not,” he argued. “The turkey is almost done, the pies are in the other oven, also almost done—”

“All three?”

He nodded. “Yep. Jacob, believe it or not, was happy to peel and cut the apples.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear, Ransom.”

“As soon as everyone stops acting like they’re dying, we’ll be able to sit down…well, Donna might not be able to sit down.”

You laughed. “Your family is insane.”

“And clearly, you fit right in.”

“Clearly,” you muttered. Unfortunately.

Christmas Eve:

Sometimes, you wished that you had listened to him when he said this wasn’t happening. Because then you wouldn’t have needed to worry about so many god damn people! It would just be you and Ransom in absolute seclusion, but no. No, you would never have it so easy during this fucking holiday.

How difficult was it to pick up the presents that you had ordered? You picked them out, you organized it all, you had only asked Ransom to drive to a single location and obtain them for you. Why hadn’t he? Because he was sleeping at 2 in the afternoon.

What did you have for Jacob? Not a damn thing. You had no presents for the teenage delinquent you were terrified of. You weren’t family, he was going to store you away in the basement and torture you until he got bored. Ransom probably wouldn’t even realize you had been missing until Jacob placed your body parts all over the house. And three of Meg’s presents were also missing, you knew Linda was going to make another comment.

You would hit her with more ice. After you strangled her son, of course, who was currently hot helping in any way at all.

“Ransom, put your fucking drink down and hand me the tape!”

“Are your fucking hands broken?!”

“I’m holding the box!”

He slammed his drink down on the bedside table and angrily stormed his way to where you were surrounded by boxes, wrapping paper, and a million other things he wasn’t even aware you’d spent money on. This was too much for his family and he was just waiting for you to realize that they were nowhere near worth the effort you constantly put in.

Ransom picked up the tape, tore a piece off, and placed it between where your fingers were resting on the box.

“Thank you so much,” you responded, pure sarcasm.

And god damn, he had had enough of your fucking tone. “You are driving me insane!”

“I’m driving you insane?! Your family has been ruing my whole fucking life since March!”

“I didn’t want them here!”

“Well, I’m a human with actual empathy for others, so I logically knew that that was not an option!”

“You were going to leave my mother out of your precious sanctuary!”

“Because she’s abusive!” You shoved your hands into your hair and shook your head. “I’m done, absolutely done. I can’t have this conversation with you again. Your mother sucks, why is this news to you? I’m so sorry for trying to hold her accountable for her actions. Oh, but of course, every time someone tries to make any of you face the consequences for your actions, you act like it’s a hate crime!”

He glared. “I hate you.”

“I hate you!” you seethed.

“I can’t fucking believe I actually want to do this!” he turned away, scrubbing one of his hands down his face. “You make me so fucking crazy.”

“Do what?” you demanded. “What the hell are you talking about now? What god-awful thing have you decided to do?”

He made his way to the bed, tearing open the drawer to the bedside table on his side. He was muttering quickly under his breath and even if his speech hadn’t been so hurried, it was quiet enough that you had no chance of hearing anything.

It was silent for several moments before he turned back to you and threw something on the bed. He gestured to it then crossed his arms over his chest.

Since your bed was a mess of dark blankets, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be seeing. You stood, carefully stepping your way out of the present-wrapping station you had created and neared the bed. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a tiny black box against the mattress.

You looked back at him, eyes wide, pleading. No…no, that was not happening. He wasn’t actually…

“Marry me.”

“What?!”

He actually seemed surprised by your reaction. He leaned over, snatched the box off the bed, and stomped back to you. “Marry me.”

“You’ve lost it,” you accused. “You’re actually literally insane. You need to be committed!”

“Yes, it’s insane that I want to marry you but for some fucking reason, I do!”

“Oh, my god, Ransom!” You slapped the box out of his hands and that was just too much for him. “I’m not fucking marrying you, you’ve never even told me you love me!”

He hurriedly picked up the box, tossed it back onto the bed, and then grabbed you by your arms. “You’re seriously fucking bringing that up now?”

“What does that even mean?! Yes, I’m bringing it up now. You marry someone when you’re in love with them and since you haven’t said it after seven years, I understandably doubt your feelings for me.”

“You are such a fucking brat.”

“You’re a brat!” you yelled, more exasperated than you’d ever felt. “You’re such a fucking entitled brat! There’s no other way to describe you. You just think I’m going to say yes and give you everything you want when you can’t even say you love me!”

“This is absolutely fucking ridiculous.”

“Just fucking say it, Ransom! If you love me, just say it!”

“You will not bully me into saying something that I don’t even deem as important.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Love is a word! Okay? It means nothing. My parents fucking say they love each other, then my dad fucked someone else. Neal and Joni said they loved each other every god damn second that they could but guess what. He still died. And don’t even get me started on Walt and Donna, their “love” created the next great serial killer of this wonderful fucking country!”

You were speechless, Ransom never talked to you like this. He never brought up the fucked-up aspects of his family that had consequently fucked him up as well.

He finally let you go when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, turning to walk away. You startled when he banged his hand against the wall. “God damn it!”

“Why do you make me say it to you then?” you demanded.

“I don’t know!” he admitted.

Again, you were both silent. You were thinking of the best way to respond, and you certainly couldn’t come up with that, but you knew what you wanted to say. “I’m not marrying you.”

He laughed.

It was a terrifying sound that gave you chills. He was going to kill you, you were 90% sure. As soon as he started walking toward you, you turned away to run to the bathroom, but Ransom had always known that would be your plan.

He effortlessly caught you and dragged you back to the bed. He shoved you down, pinned your arms to the mattress to stop you from hitting him, and slid his hips between your legs to make it impossible to kick him. “You’re going to marry me.”

“You’re going to force me to marry you?”

“I’ll drag you to the fucking courthouse if I have to.”

“The courthouse?!”

“I want to give you a wedding, the obscenely priced, overly dramatic show that I know you want. But if you won’t say yes, you leave me no other option.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do because my answer is no.”

Luckily for him, your outfit was not overly complex. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under your skirt because his hand was between your legs for most of dinner that night. You didn’t let him make you come because you were throwing a temper tantrum over the situation with the presents, but he was evidently not deterred.

After he moved your wrists together and kept you held there, he used his free hand to get his pants out of the way. In seconds, he was fully inside you and was offering you no time to adjust.

You realized why when you felt his hands moving over your head. Turning up that way, you saw him fumbling with the box. He was going to put the ring on your finger, and you had the sinking suspicion you might not be able to part with it if you saw it. But no, this was not happening.

You managed to get one of your hands free and yanked on his hair.

He kissed you because he had nothing left to do but bite your lip. Hard. He didn’t even falter when you cried out.

He was the idiot who let you keep your shoes on and you were limited on where you could get your heel. You did yoga, but you weren’t some contortionist. You had one option, and that was stabbing your heel into the side of his ass, and it was completely his own fault.

Finally, he pulled away and was forced to let you on top, which was the only advantage you needed. You smacked the box off the bed. However, now that he wasn’t overly concerned with holding you to the bed, he could pull your hair until you relented and fell back onto the bed.

He rolled over several times until you were both on the very edge, managing to kick your heels off in the process. He never stopped driving his hips into you, knowing that the only advantage he had was how weak you always got for his cock.

You could hear him reaching around blindly on the floor but with each brush of his skin against your clit, you got less scared about the idea that he would get the ring on you. You knew you didn’t want it. You knew you didn’t want to marry him and there was no way in hell you would willingly say yes, but fuck, you wanted to come.

You touched the side of his face and he finally looked back at you.

“Say yes.”

“Fuck you.” You pulled him down, your lips meeting his. There was blood in the kiss and your lip was throbbing, but you couldn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this violently, this angrily. He’d never fucked you like this before. You were no stranger to Ransom being a cruel lover, but there had never been so much pure wrath.

He had located the box, you could tell when his fingernails stopped clicking against the hardwood floor. You were panicking, not fully thinking through your plans, you just knew you needed to be able to reach the box. You threw all your weight at him and he was barely balanced as it was.

Despite his anger, he still had more of a mind than you—probably because he wanted something out of this, he needed to be mindful to get his way. He basically let you throw him on the floor because he worried about the results if he managed to fall on you.

Instead of retaliating any further, you grabbed his hand and brought it down to your center. He needed no further prompt than that, his thumb began to circle your clit as his other hand grabbed your hip and moved you along the length of his cock.

Where was the box? On his chest, he set this there because he was the cockiest fucking asshole in the world. He saw you eyeing it and smirked. “Go ahead, baby, take it, but you know I’ll fucking stop.”

That was unimaginable. Both hands reached for the one he had on your hip. You continued rolling your hips like it was the last time you were ever going to get to, dragging his hand up to your mouth.

“I swear if you fucking bite me,” he warned.

No, you weren’t going to do that. Yet. You choked yourself on his fingers, stifling all the pathetic sounds that were spilling out from you. Ransom simply enjoyed the show, enjoyed you fucking yourself on his cock, enjoyed you staring at him with those smoky, delicate eyes as you sucked on his fingers.

He stopped touching your clit once he felt you coming. He used that hand to hold you up on your knees and thrust his hips into you punishingly. You were dizzy, disastrously satiated and overstimulated. He finished with a shaking moan, a tell that he was trying to be quiet.

It wasn’t late, the family was undoubtedly aware of what was going on.

He turned down, staring at the place you were still connected. Ransom waited until his cum was spilling out of you and then yanked you back down to take his entire length. If there was anything that Ransom did love in this world it was filling you with his cum and watching it slowly pour out.

You only allowed him to do this several times before you finally bit down on his fingers. His hand lifted from your hip and tore your hair back hard enough that you opened your mouth to yell at him. When he could pull his fingers from your mouth, he wrapped that hand around your neck and pulled you flat down, your chest to his, the ring box trapped between you and him, digging painfully into your ribs.

He slammed you into the wall and you brought your legs up to hook around his waist. “Sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean to bite you.”

“After I get this ring on you, I’m gonna make you call your parents and tell them we’re engaged. And I’m gonna fuck you and make you call me daddy, just to remind your father how much of a daddy’s girl you used to be.”

“Why call when you could Facetime?”

“Then I’m gonna have you choking on my cock, baby, all they need to see is the ring on your finger.” The hand in your hair wedged its way between you and him and he located your clit once more.

It was too much but you knew Ransom wasn’t going to care. Begging him to stop would just provide him enjoyment and that was the last thing you wanted him to have. He kept his other hand around your neck because he knew you would say something that would annoy the fuck out of him if he let you.

When you were coming, his hips were moving once more and his hand abandoned your clit to move the box. You felt it sliding along your skin until it was gone and then you realized he wasn’t holding your neck anymore. He had your left hand held clutched in his and you felt the cold band he was sliding onto your finger.

You couldn’t do much, you had lost and you knew it. But you could leave a few more marks on him, so you latched your free hand onto his shoulder and dragged your nails down his back, and you bit down on his shoulder harder than you probably should have. He was a fucking animal, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get the ring on you, and once he had, he grabbed your face and shoved you back.

You knew he was trying to get you to look at the ring, but you refused. Your eyes were slammed shut and nothing was going to change that.

He walked you to the bathroom, pulling out to bend you over the counter because he knew you would instinctually lift both hands up to the edge. Once you had, he shoved his cock back inside you and grabbed your jaw to angle your face in the direction of your left hand. “Look at it.”

“Fuck. You!” you growled.

He smacked your ass and even though you shrieked like he was murdering you, you did not open your eyes. He repeated this several times until his own hand was stinging almost unbearably. New plan.

He used his feet to kick your legs apart further and you felt a sharp, sudden slap against your cunt. Your eyes snapped open and a scream tore from your throat. He almost felt bad until he saw your attention on the ring. Was he an ass? Yes. But had he won? Also, yes.

That fucking asshole. His hand dropped to rub over your aching pussy, cock still moving at a painfully fast pace. Ransom was fucking furious and the only way he could take it out on you was by fucking you this way.

You couldn’t say you had any complaints about it. Tomorrow, when you were pretending you couldn’t stand to look at him, you would be bruised and sore everywhere that he had touched you. You would be wet all day thinking about how it happened.

The fucking ring. A huge cushion-cut diamond set in a halo on top of a diamond-encrusted band. It wasn’t simple, it sounded like it, but there was something so beautiful about it. Fuck, you wouldn’t let this ring go unless you were dead. Because he was right. You liked money and diamonds and you were materialistic, and this was from Ransom and you loved everything he gave you. And at the end of it all, even though you were saying no to him, he shoved that ring onto your finger because you were his and that was never going to change.

“Say yes.”

“No.”

“Fine.” He reached for your hand but stopped when he saw you make a fist.

“Try to take this ring from me and I will fucking kill you, Ransom.”

He scoffed. “Great, I’m gonna get my phone to Facetime your parents.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Not yet,” he pointed out. “First, I need to fuck your mouth, but then—”

From outside, the dogs started to bark.

You let your head fall onto the counter and groaned. “I fucking swear, every fucking time we’re fucking—”

He pulled out and rushed from the bathroom.

“Hey!” you called out. “What the hell?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself as he searched for where he’d thrown his pants. When had he even gotten them off?

“Ransom?”

“Wait there,” he directed and then he dashed out of the room.

“Excuse you!” It wasn’t like you had much of an option, your legs weren’t working yet, and you were sweating and gross, and bruised and your lip was swollen and clearly bitten.

After several moments, he hadn’t come back. What the hell was he up to? You winced and hummed, made any noise that made you feel slightly better, as you tiptoed around the room looking for something to put on. You settled on one of his shirts and slowly, pathetically made your way downstairs. “Ransom?”

No response.

“Hello, anyone?” If someone else was around, you could force them to look for your boyfriend instead of having to do so yourself. But it seemed that you were out of luck on that.

The dogs were still barking like crazy, but why was no one else reacting? And why did Ransom care? He never paid attention to the dogs. You followed the sound of their barking, they had moved from the backyard to the side of the house. Which was odd because they never went there.

The garage? Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Linda complaining about something, being constantly interrupted by Joni, Walt, and Ransom. Okay, again, unusual. He tended to ignore his mother, not argue with her.

His eyes widened when he saw you in the doorway. “No, no, this has to stop. I need everyone out of this room.”

“What the hell is going on?” you questioned.

“We don’t want to alarm you,” Donna began, “But—”

“Pretty sure he has drugs,” Meg claimed. “Like, hardcore drugs. Heroin, probably.”

Your eyes widened at him.

He glared. “I don’t have drugs, don’t be ridiculous.”

You gasped, pointing in the direction of the dogs still barking outside. “Those are German Shepherds, they’re drug dogs!”

Meg gasped, nodding at you with wide eyes. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Knock it off,” Linda scolded. “Ransom, show us what you’re hiding right now, or we’ll tear this room apart.”

He rolled his eyes, storming over to the corner of the room where a sheet was laid over something. “Fine, merry fucking Christmas.” He yanked it off one of the old kennels Linda used for her dogs when they were being trained.

There was a long list of things you were suspecting to see. Three sleeping puppies? No, they were nowhere on the list. And then you realized that was why he hadn’t gone to pick up Jacob’s present.

“You got me more puppies?” Linda inquired.

You, along with most of the room, glared at her.

“No,” Ransom snapped. “One is for Jacob and one’s for Meg.”

Both Jacob and Meg excitedly ran to the cage, startling the puppies awake. Much to Ransom’s dismay, the baby talk began without a second thought and the puppies were whining and making those small noises that always irritated him.

One for Jacob. One for Jacob. Then…the third. Oh, god.

He turned to you with a sigh.

“Yes,” you said, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You ran across the room, ignoring all your aching limbs and threw yourself into his arms. “And I’ll stop being so mean to you, and if you want to do this at the courthouse, I won’t even be upset because you’re so good to me and I’m awful to you. I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” he assured.

“No,” you protested. “It’s a million times not okay! I’m so sorry.” You pulled back to touch his face. “I’m really, really sorry. But I’m going to be the best wife in the world—”

“What?” Joni cut in.

That was the only thing in the world that could have drawn attention away from the puppies.

“Wife?” Linda repeated.

You checked with Ransom and he nodded. He had been looking forward to this. All you had to do was hold out your hand and Joni and Meg were excitedly shrieking. There hadn’t been a wedding in the family in so long.

“Wow,” Walt said. “Ransom? Engaged, showing commitment? This is the strangest year I’ve ever lived.”

Ransom rolled his eyes.

Before another word could be said, Linda collapsed onto the floor. Richard and Walt were the only ones who felt alarmed at the situation, while everyone else moved in closer to see the puppies.

“Which one is ours?” you wondered.

“Yours,” he corrected. “And the blonde one. She was the least yappy I could find on such short notice.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Where did you go?”

“The pound, obviously.”

“I fucking love you,” you blurted out, grabbing his face to pull him down into a kiss.

Once again, the room echoed with disgusted sounds.

“Which one’s mine?” Meg wondered.

“I couldn’t care less,” he admitted.

“I’m gonna name mine Hugh,” Jacob announced.

Ransom gave you an expectant look.

“I love you?” you tried.

“Gonna need a lot more than that.” He picked you up and because you knew Ransom wasn’t going to accept any kind of attitude from you for a very long time, you hooked your legs and arms around him and willingly went.

“I’ll take care of your dog until you guys are done being gross!” Meg promised.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @donutloverxo​ @kleohoneyao3​ @cevans-fics​

ransom tags:

@la-cey​

[mammons-sugarbaby]

The bros reading MC’s diary Part II: Romantic!

Lucifer ⦁ He'd started giving MC piano lessons after their RAD classes, they'd requested it and he wasn't going to pass up a chance to show off his talents. ⦁ After MC leaves he notices they forgot their things, namely a few schoolbooks and notebooks ⦁ He also notices when he gathers them up that one notebook seems different than the others and opens it to see what it is ⦁ It's a daily journal of their time in the devildom ⦁ He flips through a few more pages and lands on a page that, to his surprise, is about him ⦁ He goes to the beginning and sees where it becomes less about general happenings and more about him

Diary Content ⦁ "Lucifer agreed to teach me how to play the piano! I've already been practicing a little so he would be impressed at how quickly I learned. I feel bad for lying but... It's a chance to be close to him, to get him to notice me. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate with him right next to me, and when our hands brush against each other...It take everything in me to keep my composure!"

⦁ "I'm so excited! Lucifer is taking me to Restaurant Six tomorrow! He says it's to reward me for my hard work, both for my RAD classes, and how well I've done in our piano lessons! My heart was beating so fast when he asked if I would like to go. I'm going to go shopping later for an outfit to wear, it has to be something special! I know it's just a treat but....I'm just going to pretend we're on a date."

⦁ "I'm so embarrassed! I was waiting for Lucifer in the music room and I started daydreaming about us sitting next to each other. Lucifer turned to me and our eyes met and I confessed my feelings and....then he leaned in and kissed me! So I was shocked when Lucifer was right in front of me suddenly asking if I was okay. For a second I thought the kiss had actually happened...But he just said we had better start lessons...and I was too nervous through the whole thing I kept messing up...I think I irritated him because he said that I I obviously wasn't able to pay attention and that continuing would be a waste of time..."

His Reaction ⦁ He had been surprised at how quickly MC had learned and suspected they knew more than they let on, and though he wanted to be mad or disappointed about the lying, he was actually impressed with the lengths they went to get his attention. He made a mental note to be more....attentive during their next lesson.

⦁ Lucifer recalled his shock at how well MC had dressed for the occasion, he hadn't expected them to go all out. At the time he felt a little guilty for not putting more effort in his attire, but seeing how MC stared at him and how they blushed when he looked at them or complimented them, he doubted they cared. He would ask them again when he had some free time, this time he would specify that this time was more of a...romantic occasion.

⦁ He recalled that day well, he had entered the music room and saw MC staring at nothing, a hint of a blush on their face. It had taken a few moments for him to get their attention, and now their reaction when they snapped out of it made sense. He felt bad now because he had snapped at them, but he would make it up to them in the future. He looked forward to teasing them, and....he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about kissing them at times.

Mammon ⦁ He was looking through MC's stuff to sell for quick grim ⦁ Finds an intricate looking book, it's looks expensive ⦁ He opens it and notices its a scrapbook ⦁ He soon realizes that there a lot of cut outs and pictures of him ⦁ And there are full pages of writing ⦁ Of course he's going to read about what they have to say about him, The Great Mammon!

Diary Content ⦁ "Managed to sneak in another magazine that featured Mammon without anyone noticing, I'd be so embarrassed if anyone found this book. I feel like a kid with a crush drawing hearts all over everything but...it's fun, and it's not like anyone is actually going to see. I'm almost embarrassed at all the times I've written about confessing to him."

⦁ "He makes my heart stop sometimes I swear, every time he looks at me, my mouth goes dry and I feel like I can't breath for a minute. He's just so damn hot. And he's funny too! And even when he's hyped up about another plan to make quick grim, even if it makes absolutely no damn sense, I can't help but nod along and want his plan to succeed."

⦁ "I know it's dumb but I just want to march over to him one day and demand to know how he feels about me. Sometimes he acts all flustered around me and his face looks like he's blushing, but then he says something that dismisses everything and just...crushes me a little. Today we were hanging out and one of his brothers teased him about being around me all the time and he told them it wasn't like he wanted to, he was just helping me with classwork. Which he was, and poorly at that, but it hurt a lot, I had to get out of there before he saw me cry. He apologized later but....he just gives off such mixed signals...I wish he'd just say how he actually felt."

His Reaction ⦁ He's floored, he had absolutely no idea they felt this way. At most he just thought they were a fan of his. But they were right, they had written what seemed like a hundred different ways of confessing their feelings to him. He felt his get hotter and hotter with each page he read.

⦁ He had just figured MC was kinda shy and was supportive towards everyone. He even thought they were fake laughing at his dumb jokes to make him feel better, especially since everyone usually groaned and said his joke was stupid. But the fact that they actually found him attractive and funny? He wanted to run to MC and wrap them in a bear hug.

⦁ Mammon hadn't realized he'd been hurting MC all this time, making them feel like he was stringing them along. He just got so embarrassed and didn't want anyone know how he felt about MC. He already got so much shit from his brothers, teasing him about falling for the human wasn't appealing. But he'd take their teasing over continuing to hurt MC this way. He couldn't bring himself to admit his feelings outright, but he wouldn't deny them anymore. 

Levi ⦁ He'd gone into MC's room to retrieve some games and manga he'd lent them ⦁ He saw a pile of books near a neat stack of games and assumed they'd left it on their desk for him. ⦁ It wasn't until he got back to his room and was organizing them that he realized he grabbed a book that wasn't his. ⦁ He opened it then quickly shut it after realizing it was their diary. ⦁ He argued with himself to read or not to read, but he saw his name! ⦁ Deciding, he opened the diary again, he just had to know what they were writing about him

Diary Content ⦁ "Hung out with Levi in his room today. He was watching a new show, as usual, and I asked if I could join him. He said sure, but there wasn't a whole lot of space to sit, so I tried clearing away a few things so I could sit beside him without being too close. But I guess I was still nervous being so close to him because I kept fidgeting and bouncing my legs. Eventually he got annoyed and grabbed my legs and put them in his lap!! I was so shocked my brain felt like it short circuited."

⦁ "While I was playing co-op mode with Levi tonight, he got in a rough spot and I ended up saving him. You would have thought I'd saved his actual life! He threw his arms around me and told me I was the best player-2 ever!! My heart was pounding, he usually wasn't so...hands on? I'm probably weird for thinking about it, but I imagined him kissing my cheek."

⦁ "Every day I feel like it gets harder and harder to be around Levi, I get so....tongue tied! And my heart feels like its beating a thousand times a minute! My face gets so hot and i feel like I can't even look at him or I'll confess on the spot! I haven't been hanging out with him as much because....I really like him but I'm sure that he'd think having a 'normie' crush on him would be lame and gross. And he seems so down lately I just want to cheer him up and see him smile again! Maybe I can give him head pats to cheer him up? It would give me an excuse to touch him at least..."

His Reaction ⦁ He remembered that night, mainly because when he had realized what he'd done, he got so embarrassed. MC had been really quiet and would barely look at him, of course they'd be disgusted by a gross otaku like him...

⦁ His brain had to take a moment to process the last sentence. They wanted him to....KISS them??? He hadn't thought about it when he had hugged them because he was so happy, but afterwards he couldn't stop thinking about it, how he wanted to wrap his arms around them again, to hold them..

⦁ So THAT'S why they had been avoiding him!! He thought after the previous two events, they were grossed out by him but....they liked him?? Like liked him?? He honestly couldn't wrap his head around it, he wanted to think it was some trick but....this was MC's diary, why would they lie about something that was only meant for their eyes?? MC liked him....as more that a friend....He couldn't get them out of his head for the rest of the day.

Satan ⦁ MC returned some books he'd lent them ⦁ While putting them away, Satan realized they'd accidentally given him one of their books ⦁ They'd already left though, he opened it to see what the book was about ⦁ It was a thick journal and he realized it was specifically a diary ⦁ And the page he'd opened to was about him ⦁ Intrigued, he sat down and flipped to the first page.

Diary Content ⦁ "Satan offered me a few books today that he enjoyed and suggested we start reading together so we could talk about them. I pointed out he's a much faster reader and he said we could limit it to a few chapters a week. He's so considerate and I really would love to share something like that with him! I know he gets a bad rep for being the avatar of wrath but he's surprisingly gentle most of the time. And I like a lot of the books he reads, so we have that in common. And if there's something I liked but he didn't personally find interesting, he still talks with me about it in detail and lets me be excited. Usually people ould just brush me off because they didn't care."

⦁ "I went to Satan's room earlier to hang out but he was so engrossed in reading I don't think he noticed me come in. I just found a spot to sit and started playing on my d.d.d, but I couldn't help but get distracted by him. I love watching his facial expressions while he reads, if he's around others his face gives nothing away, but when he's alone, or with me, that mask falls. He finally noticed me when I giggled at his shocked expression and seemed embarrassed, but I told him it was something on my phone. I would hate for him to put that mask up around me, I like seeing him openly himself."

⦁ "Today I almost pulled a huge pile of books on myself by accident. I didn't realize when I was trying to get a book from the top shelf that there were books piled on top of it! Luckily Satan was there to catch it before it fell and warned me to be careful. But when he stepped in to stop the books, he'd grabbed my shoulder and pulled me against him, like he was trying to shield me. Then when the books had steadied, he turned me around and asked if I was okay. The look of concern on his face...I can tell he cares about me. I know he didn't mean anything by it, but I swear my heart fluttered for the rest of the evening. I know I liked him before that but...is it cliche to say I think I fell in love? Maybe not that serious but....I definitely have strong feelings for him."

His Reaction ⦁ He was touched at MC's words, he already felt like they were a kindred spirit, but this really made him feel even more drawn to them. He loved being able to talk about a story with them; and realized soon after they had arrived and started reading together that they weren't as fast a reader, which made sense he'd been reading for much longer than they had been alive. He knew how it felt to be dismissed, and even if he didn't find a particular book to his liking, hearing MC's thoughts and feelings on it somehow made him see it in a different light.

⦁ He hadn't realized he let his guard down around MC so much, it almost made him embarrassed to know they had seen him make all sorts of silly faces, but reading that they enjoyed him being comfortable around them made him smile. He did trust them, more than he realized. And it didn't appear that they were aware that they too, made silly faces while reading. But they didn't hide it when they were around everyone else, in fact the only time he'd see them have a blank expression while reading, was when they were reading something erotic. He laughed because when he asked what they were reading to make their face so intense, they immediately turned red and they got embarrassed.

⦁ He remembered that day, how he saw the books teetering on the edge, that sharp worried feeling, and the way they felt against him when he pulled them back. He was able to stop the books from falling, but he was actually prepared to shield them with his body. And seeing their face, wide-eyed and a light blush across their cheeks, he was surprised at the restraint he had; because right then he had wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss them. But he didn't think that they held the same feelings for him and didn't want to make them uncomfortable. But now he knew they felt they same way, and reading about them falling in love, even jokingly, left him smiling for the rest of the day.

Asmo ⦁ He went into MC's room to show off some new beauty products he'd bought ⦁ They weren't in their room, so he texted them, they replied they'd be there shortly ⦁ he takes a seat on their bed and notices a notebook on their nightstand ⦁ He opens it and sees it's their diary ⦁ And more importantly, they're writing about him

Diary Content ⦁ "I almost managed to flirt back at Asmo with a straight face today. Almost. He's too good! Whenever I do manage to flirt back, the next thing he says leaves me a stuttering mess...I know he flirts with everyone so of course he's going to be amazing at it, but I wish I could fluster him at least once! I think he would look really cute being a blushing mess."

⦁ "It's hard not to take him seriously with the things he says sometimes. It's too easy to read into things. I know he's just teasing me and he doesn't mean the things he says, but sometimes....like today, we were sitting next to each other and he just! Put his arms around me! And said I was one of the cutest humans he'd ever seen!! He's seen thousands of humans, I don't see how I could possibly compare. I even said so and he took my face in his hands and had this really serious look on his face. He told me I shouldn't be so critical of myself and he knows cute when he sees cute! Then he told me we need to have a self care day soon."

⦁ "Asmo!!!! Kissed my cheek!!! Then whispered in my ear!!! All he said was "See you later~" but!!! I swear I couldn't speak for a solid 10 minutes. I sat there and daydreamed about kissing him back, and wrapping my arms around him, and holding hands, and going on cute dates, and all that during class! I missed everything!! And there's a test coming up.....The boy is going to be the death of me, especially if I fail this test and Lucifer finds out....Still...as pathetic as it might be to actually have a crush on the avatar of lust, knowing full well he doesn't feel the same way, it's just how he acts...I might just tell him how I feel so he can shoot me down and I can get over this silly little crush."

His Reaction ⦁ He loved when MC tried to flirt with him, loved seeing their face and seeing them try so hard to act unphased. There was a time or two when they actually had said something that caught him off-guard and made him blush, but he's well practiced at  hiding his feelings. 

⦁ He remembered that day! MC was wearing such a cute outfit and looked absolutely stunning, he couldn't help himself! And then when they put themself down it made his stomach drop. He couldn't believe they actually tried to compare themself. He wanted to go on a who lecture about how everyone has something about them that shines and they shouldn't compare themself, but them again he technically compared them to all the other humans he'd seen....He still meant what he said though, yes physically they were cute, but they sounded cute, acted cute, just....everything about them he found endearing. Even when they were angry, or sad, he thought the were one of the most attractive beings he'd laid eyes on. It threw him off when he thought about it too much, so he did what he did best and deflected, and pushed those thoughts and feelings down. But he couldn't just let them continue to think that they couldn't compare! So he suggested a self care day to try and lift their spirits.

⦁ Oh honey....he wasn't joking. More and more he found himself being serious when he flirted and asked after them. After a while he realized he was pursuing them, it was shocking because usually he was the one being pursued. He had figured MC had developed a crush on him, who wouldn't?? But it made him feel strange because he reciprocated their feelings. He started to plan to ask them on a date under the guise of studying, since they were...distracted during class. He didn't want them to get punished if the failed a test. Lucifer would blame him and tell him he wasn't allowed MC. He wouldn't follow the rules of course, but it would be a pain to try and sneak around to see MC. His thoughts wandered and he imagined kissing MC, something he'd done plenty of times before, but this time it made him blush and he felt giddy and nervous.

Beel ⦁ To be fair, MC told him he could borrow their study notes, but didn't tell him where in their room they left the notebook ⦁ He sees what he assumes is the notebook on their bed and grabs it and heads to his room ⦁ Once he gets settled, he opens it and reads half the page before it clicks that these are definitely not study notes ⦁ This is their diary, and they were writing about him ⦁ He shuts it so fast, super embarrassed, but he can't stop thinking about what he'd read ⦁ Guilty, he opens it to read more

Diary Content ⦁ "Beel asked today if I wanted to go with him to Hell’s Kitchen, he heard they had one of my favorite foods back in stock. I was surprised and asked him how he knew it was one of my favorites, I had only eaten it twice. He told me he notices how my face changes when I eat something I particularly like, and how I make a little humming noise. I was really embarrassed and it made me a little self conscious, so I told him I'd get back to him about it. I hated seeing his face fall...Then he apologized and said he'd see me later, which made me feel even worse!! I just... the thought of someone paying that much attention to me, to notice what I like and how I act when something makes me happy...I'm not used to it. Of course I found him later and asked him if his offer still stood and I swear his smile made me forget for a moment that there wasn't a sun in the devildom."

⦁ "I failed a test today!!! Lucifer is going to kill me...I told Beel about it and he asked if I would be okay if he helped me study. I told him I would be so grateful! I was so happy I hugged him without thinking and I swear I saw him blushing, I mean I was too but then he told me I could always come to him if I ever needed anything. I swear my heart jumped in my throat. He's always looking out for me, I know he's nice to everyone but....he always makes me feel like I'm special to him. I'm probably looking into it way too much but I might have a small crush on him. Not that he feels the same way, and I'm okay with that, but it's nice to know I have someone I can always count on."

⦁ "I want a black hole to open and swallow me!!! I'm going to hide in my room until I go back home I'm so embarrassed!! I was eating lunch with Beel and I was eating a  jelly pastry and he noticed I had some on the corner of my mouth so he asked me to hold still for a second, and wiped it off with his thumb then licked it! I just...couldn't stop staring at him and his mouth....He thought I wanted some of the food he was eating so he offered to let me have some, then held it out for me to take a bite. Then!! Asmo walked by and said how we were so cute together, feeding each other and acting like a cute couple! Beel was confused and told him we weren't dating, and Asmo looked surprised and told him that I had a crush so he thought I had asked him out. I haven't been answering my phone and I've been hiding out at Purgatory Hall for a few hours now. I don't think I can face Beel after this...."

His Reaction ⦁ Beel had seen Hell’s Kitchen had a dish that MC really enjoyed back in stock for a limited time, so he wanted to surprise MC. He thought he'd made them uncomfortable, in a way he kind of did but for a different reason. Maybe it was because food was his thing so he noticed how others reacted when they ate foods they did or didn't like. So he was really surprised when they found him later and apologized and asked him if he still wanted to go. At the time it made him really happy, even more so now. He felt his cheeks flush at the last sentence, did MC really feel that way?

⦁ He had seen how distraught MC was that day and when they told him what had happened, he offered to help. He usually got good grades and didn't think anything of it, but when they threw their arms around him out of the blue, and how happy they were, he got a little embarrassed. They just looked so cute and he found himself wanting to see them more so he told them they could come to him for anything. In a way they were really special to him, and he too liked them in more that just a friendly way. He felt really happy though, that they trusted him so much.

⦁ Things had gone back to normal since that day, mostly anyway. By the time dinner came around and MC still wasn't home, he went out and looked for them. Luckily when he texted Simeon and Luke, Simeon replied that they were at Purgatory Hall baking with Luke. He still wasn't sure how he felt at the time, since learning that MC also had feelings for him, but he didn't want to make things awkward so he asked if Belphie could go for him and bring them home. He replayed the events of the day over in his head, but this time from MC's point of view and how he would have felt had they acted as he had... He didn't want to make things awkward again since things had mostly gone back to normal but he also didn't just want to ignore the fact that they both had mutual feelings for each other.

Belphie ⦁ MC texts him asking if he could bring their notebooks they forgot ⦁ They were supposed to have a study session in the planetarium but MC had forgotten their things in the attic ⦁ He opens one of the notebooks to quickly scan over the notes they were supposed to study ⦁ These are not school related ⦁ This is their diary, and what’s more, there's a lot about him in it ⦁ His eyebrows furrowed and he settled in to read what MC had to say about him.

Diary Content ⦁ " Beel asked me today if I was mad at Belphie, if we had a fight. I was confused and told him no and asked why. He explained that he noticed when I would see Belphie, I'd usually try and leave the room, or I'd avoid trying to look at him again. I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious about it, but I couldn't explain the reason why to him. He told me Belphie was starting to get depressed, and mentioned that I might have had a change of heart due to the incident. I told him that wasn't the case at all! This is a mess....I'll either have to get over myself or tell Belphie the truth...It's not fair to him I'm acting like this."

⦁ "Belphie's noticed I haven't been coming over for naps as often, I always tell him I've got stuff going on. I used to be fine with cuddling for naps, was totally okay with waking up and having his arm slung over me. I don't know when it changed but I started feeling shy, I was less comfortable with him touching me. Not in a bad way! Just....I got hyper aware anytime he touched me, my heart would start pounding. And in the cases that I couldn't come up with a good reason to say no to a nap, I kept as much distance as I could. Saying I felt too hot to be all wrapped up has been a good excuse so far, and it's not a lie."

⦁ " Ugh! Everytime I try to talk to Belphie about why I've been acting so weird, one of his brothers comes around! Or Simeon...or Solomon...or Luke...It's like now that I'm trying to confess, everyone can sense something is about to go down! I just...want to tell him that I like him as more than a friend and if he can just bear with me so I can get over it, I mean he obviously doesn't feel the same and I don't want to make things more awkward and lose my best friend. Part of me wants Belphie to like me back, as more than a friend, but the other part knows that'll never happen and I need to just get over it."

His Reaction ⦁ At one point he barely spoke to MC aside from meals and in passing, they either didn't reply to his texts, or they took forever. He thought maybe they had finally come to their senses and realized that they actually hated him, and for good reason. Even though he knew they had every right, it still made him feel depressed and lonely, angry even sometimes; and one day he'd vented to Beel. While it irritated him that his twin had told MC, he was relieved to read that MC's behavior wasn't in relation to the incident. But now he was curious about what it WAS about.

⦁ He had noticed MC had been avoiding him in a sense, and at the time he wasn't sure what he'd done. But in the times that they had stayed over for a nap, they would practically be hanging off the edge of the bed, or as far from him as they could get. They told him they were hot, which given the red face and sweating, he believed. He had actually planned to get a fan and a mini air conditioner so they would be more comfortable, he still planned to, but now he had a different reason in mind.

⦁ Belphie remembered the various times MC would ask to talk with him, only to change their mind whenever someone else was around. He was actually going to ask them to meet him at the planetarium tonight and demand to know what was going on. But his brain stopped working when he read MC liked him. Like liked him. He laughed because he was doing the same thing, but he was much better at hiding his feelings. He'd had centuries to master it after all. He was tempted to let MC go through all the embarrassment of a confession after what they'd put him through lately, but right now all he wanted to do was find them and wrap his arms around them and tell them how dumb they were for crushing on a demon. A demon who was just as dumb for having a crush on a human.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Puzzles and Limes and Family Times

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Summary: Parenting kids is tough. Growing up and parenting your parents is even harder. Luckily T.K. and Carlos have each other to help figure things out. A post-ep for 2x11 "Slow Burn." Thanks to @bluenet13 for the help with the spicy food stuff and for inspiring what will likely be a prequel. And for just generally always being a supportive friend! 

                                   XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“How about a book?” Carlos asked.

T.K. shook his head. “He has books. I want something different. Something that will really distract him.”

“I still think a couple DVD’s might do the trick,” Carlos told him. 

“He has every streaming service known to man. If he can’t find it on one of those, it’s probably not worth watching.”

“T.K. as nice as it is that you want to get your dad a gift for his surgery, maybe we should think about it a little more since you don’t seem to know what you want.”

They’d circled the aisles of Target more than once, T.K. turning down every one of Carlos’ suggestions. “I just want something that’s going to keep him busy,” T.K. said. “He’s terrible at sitting still. I’m afraid if we don’t do something he’ll try and run a half marathon three days after surgery and kill himself.”

“Babe I don’t think there’s anything in the world that’s going to keep your dad recovering the way you want,” Carlos said. “He’s kind of a strong willed guy.”

T.K. sighed and turned the cart into the next aisle. “I know. I know, I just have to at least try.” He paused and grabbed a box off the nearest shelf. “What about this?”

Carlos raised his eyebrows. “A puzzle? Your dad doesn’t strike me as someone with the patience for puzzles.”

“Exactly. Maybe this will help him learn some. And,” T.K. tapped the box for emphasis, “this one has dogs playing poker on it. He loves dogs and poker.”

“That is true,” Carlos said, keeping his tone even and his expression neutral.

T.K. shot him a look of fond exasperation. “I know you’re humoring me but I’m going to pretend that was genuine.”

“And now you can humor me by picking out new towels,” Carlos said with a grin.

T.K. groaned. “I thought we already picked new towels.”

“We picked new master bath towels. We need some to match the guest bath.” Carlos grabbed his hand, towing him along toward the home goods aisles. 

“I didn’t realize you were going to use my moving in as an excuse to redecorate the entire condo,” T.K. said.

“I want it to feel like our place.” Carlos stopped and picked up a washcloth. “How do we feel about cream?”

“I feel like towels are towels. Especially in the guest bath.”

Carlos rolled his eyes and moved further down the row. “We have guests coming next week. Everything needs to be perfect.”

“Speaking of which, are you sure you want to invite my dad to dinner with your parents?” T.K. asked as Carlos silently debated the merits of blue versus off-white towels. 

Carlos looked at him in surprise. “He’s your dad. Of course I want him there.”

“It’s just…he can be…a lot sometimes,” T.K. said. 

Carlos raised his eyebrows and T.K. held up a finger in warning. “If you say I’m also a lot sometimes I’m taking the keys and leaving you here to Uber home.”

His boyfriend smiled and turned back to the towels. “My parents want to meet him. And your dad is very charming.” He looked at T.K., eyes sparkling with mirth. “Just like you.”

Now it was T.K.’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Besides,” Carlos said, dropping the blue towels into the cart, “having your dad there will take some of the attention off of me so my mom doesn’t tell every, single embarrassing story about my childhood. Instead your dad and my dad can try to one-up each other talking about crazy calls they’ve been on.”

T.K. wasn’t convinced yet. “He’s just really not been himself lately. And I have no idea what his mood is going to be like post-surgery. I don’t want him to leave a bad impression with your parents.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, it would be good for your dad to get out of the house. Be around family.”

T.K. sighed. “I guess at least if he’s with us I’ll know he’s safe. And it will give him something to do to keep his mind off how bored he is.”

“I thought that was what the puzzle was for,” Carlos said with a teasing grin as they walked toward the checkout.

T.K. sent him a withering look. “Just let me pretend it’s going to work and not sit on a shelf in the closet until the next time he has a garage sale. It makes me feel better.”

Carlos nudged him good-naturedly. “I will let you keep your delusion.” He stopped pushing the cart and leaned against the handle. “But it’s going to cost you.”

T.K. took a step closer and bit his lip. “Oh is it?” he asked, wondering exactly how randy Carlos was going to get in the kitchen appliance aisle. 

“Yep.” Carlos grinned. “We’re having camarones a la diabla for dinner tonight.”

T.K.’s face fell. “What? No! Come on I already looked at towels with you!”

Carlos just smiled and sauntered away with the cart, leaving T.K. alone in the middle of the aisle to hurry after him. “Okay but only a little spicy all right? Not ‘accidentally almost kill T.K. spicy’ like last time?”

“That was your own fault and you know it,” Carlos called back.

T.K. huffed. “That’s exactly why we don’t need a repeat!”

Carlos stopped and let him catch up. “If we’re going to live together we have to build up your tolerance to heat. Don’t worry,” he said, patting T.K.’s cheek, “I’ll be gentle.”

T.K. eyed him warily. “Nice try Reyes. I know behind that smile is a conniving, spice loving, diabolical monster.”

“What if I promise you homemade ice cream for dessert?”

“What because I’m a five-year-old and can be bribed to eat my dinner?” T.K. asked.

Carlos cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Fine,” T.K. said grudgingly. “But I want chocolate.”

“Then chocolate it is.”

                                XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. had never seen his boyfriend panicked before. Upset yes, excited for sure, but the most emotionally intense his mild mannered boyfriend typically got was moderately annoyed. Tonight however, he seemed like he might actually be about to lose his shit. And as intrigued as T.K. was to see where that might lead, a little voice in his head reminded him that Carlos losing his shit five minutes before his parents were due to arrive was probably not going to leave a favorable impression.

“Where are the tortilla chips?” Carlos asked, his voice sharp and pitched a note or two higher than usual. “I thought you picked them up on your way home today.”

“Right here,” T.K. said smoothly, opening the cupboard and pulling out the bag of homemade chips he’d purchased from a favorite restaurant down the street.

“And you told them to make the guacamole fresh right?”

“Yes, I stood there for fifteen minutes while the guy went out and hand picked the avocados,” T.K. said, trying not to let too much amusement color his tone.

Over the last few days the tension in their home seemed to have changed direction. As T.K. had grown more comfortable with the idea of his dad coming for dinner, (despite the one minor, running into a burning building incident that T.K. was trying not to think about) Carlos had gotten increasingly tense. 

The condo, always in a state of near perfect cleanliness now sparkled like something out of a magazine. And the list of instructions Carlos had left for T.K. to complete after his shift had been so detailed and exact that T.K. wondered if he’d stayed up all night writing it. Personally he thought that doing a deep clean of the refrigerator and painting over scuffs on the baseboards was a little bit of overkill, but he’d done as asked. Now, as he watched his boyfriend dart from one side of the kitchen to the other in a slightly manic state, he was wondering if he might need to intervene. 

Carlos pushed past him to take the perfectly made guacamole out and put it in a bowl. “Did you put a clean hand towel in the bathroom? The blue one?”

“Blue? I thought you said black.”

Carlos froze and glowered at him. “I’m kidding,” T.K. said, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Blue towel is freshly laundered and in the bathroom. I’m not sure exactly how the color of a hand towel could ruin the evening but I certainly didn’t want to risk finding out.”

Carlos’ face dropped a bit, emotional exhaustion pulling at him. “I know I’m being crazy.”

“Oh I think we surpassed crazy about two hours ago when you were picking individual pieces of lint off the throw pillows,” T.K. said with an amused smile. “Relax. Tonight is going to be great. You’re making a damn soufflé. How could anyone not be impressed by that?”

“Maybe I should have gone with something more traditional,” Carlos said, running an agitated hand through his curls for the hundredth time that evening. “My parents are traditional people. But your dad is coming so I wanted to pull out all the stops.” He peered through the oven door at the soufflé. “Maybe I should have done the beef. I’m going to take it out just in case.”

“Carlos, Carlos whoa, hey,” T.K. stopped him by putting his hands on his shoulders. “The soufflé is going to be great. Everyone is going to love it. Do not take that beef out of the refrigerator.”

Carlos’ eyes widened. “Oh my god I forgot to put the ice trays in the freezer!”

“Whoa, hey, nope,” T.K. held on a little tighter and didn’t let him go. “You asked me to do that this morning. Let’s just go sit for a minute—“

“I need to—“

“What you need to do is take a few deep breaths and get yourself together,” T.K. told him, pushing him gently onto a bar stool.

“I just want it to be perfect.”

“Babe I know. But it’s not going to be. Nothing ever is, so you need to let got of that expectation. It will be a great dinner because everyone who’s coming loves you and wants you to be happy.”

Carlos slumped a bit, mussing his curls a little more with his hands. “I’m nervous.”

“I know. But I’m going to be right beside you the whole night. And nothing your parents say is going to make me upset. Or want to leave.” T.K. leaned a little closer as Carlos deliberately avoided making eye contact. “That’s what you’re really worried about right? Not that they’ll say something to make you upset, but that they might hurt me?”

Carlos chewed at the inside of his lip and covered T.K.’s hands with his own, twining their fingers together nervously. “They just might not be as careful with their words as I want them to be. Sometimes they speak without thinking. They have old biases, things from church and the family…”

T.K. brought one of Carlos’ hands up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I know the difference between willful hate and accidental ignorance. I’m not worried.” He ran a hand through Carlos’ hair, fixing some of the damage he’d done to himself. “And nothing, not even rude parents or a fallen soufflé, would ever make me want to leave you.”

T.K. watched as some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. “I love you,” Carlos said quietly.

“I love you too,” T.K. said, squeezing his hand.

There was a knock on the door and Carlos sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

T.K. leaned forward so their lips met in a sweet kiss. “Absolutely.”

[kilgarraghforever]

So The Son Of Bigfoot is this film from 2017 and it's completely nutty.

The opening scene is this science man getting chased through a forest by a load of helicopters, men with dogs and a pointy-faced dude with very blonde hair. The lot of them have stupid hairstyles. Science Man climbs a cliff, is cornered by the helicopters and then jumps off a waterfall. End scene, cut to title, then the main stuff starts. (I think I'm going to explain the entire film, so anyone who wants to watch it (and I heartily recommend you do so) leave now.)

The main plot is about this kid who gets bullied by three morons with stupid haircuts. Here they are:

(Sunglasses has this silly little goatee thing at the back of his head)

The three morons stick a load of gum in his hair, so his mum has to chop it all off. Next day, it's all grown back, and kid freaks and tries to chop it off himself - which goes badly. He finds his dead dad's old hat in a draw to hide it, goes to school and basically has a weird thing where his hearing suddenly increases and so does his shoe size. The kid's feat literally bust out of his shoes. Kid ends up in the PE hall to escape the noise and surprise! the three bullies turn up, he accidently punches one in the face and so they beat him up, steal his backpack and throw it in a basketball hoop. The lot of them get called to the headmaster's office to be punished (suspension), in which the kid - Adam - meets some blonde girl who flirts with him, gets his bag back and is told to remove the hat, revealing that his hair has grown back completely. Before he has time to contemplate this, the bullies turn up again, chase him home and throw a rock through his window. Rock hits a vent, breaks it and hits something metal, so Adam sticks his arm down and finds a tin full of letters from his dead dad and an address carved on bark. He reads the letters and his mum gets home, he accuses her of keeping his dad's living-ness a secret. Yelling ensues, Adam runs away, y'know - the usual.

Meanwhile, this massive hair company (Hair Co) are trying to make some serum to make hair grow. It's run by the pale dude from before, who never gets named, so I'll refer to him as Asshole. Asshole is showing these three dudes around and nattering, and then they get to this science lab. A short old science man shoots an intern in the ass with a dart thing that causes him to grow an afro. The afro then promptly bursts into flames.

We return to Adam, next to a highway trying to hitchhike in the pouring rain. Truck driver stops and Adam guilts him into taking him to the address on that bit of bark. Turns out it's literally just a post box in a woods next to the road. Adam gets out, truck drives off leaving Adam alone and so he ventures into the unknown. He wanders around for a bit looking for a house or something, yelling "Hello?" into the void. He climbs a small cliff, yells again and hears something behind him. Sees some bushes moving, so he throws a rock at them. The bushes go "ow" so he runs off and right into a bear trap. He falls, skidding the rest of the way down to the road. During said skid, his backpack falls off. This is important. Adam gets knocked out by the impact and is left sprawled in the middle of the road. Some trucker - I'm going to call him Carl - is driving down it, reading a magazine and singing something. He sees Adam at the last minute, slamming on the breaks. He's clearly going to hit Adam, but before he can, this blurry humanoid figure runs out into the road, scoops up Adam and runs off again. Carl is very confused, so plays it back on his dashboard camera. He goes "Well, I'll be" and reaches for his phone. It has no service. Carl ends up at a diner with a phone box, calls 911 and reports that he saw Bigfoot. 911 hangs up on him. Carl then proceeds to call the magazine he was reading and gets told that his sighting will get published.

Back at Hair Co, Asshole sees the report and smirks at the short science man, whom I'll be calling Billingsley, as that is his name. Billingsley wants to go after Bigfoot but Asshole says that they gave up the search ten years ago, leading to the question: 'What the fuck, Hair Co?' They eventually decide to go after Bigfoot again after seeing Adam in the photo.

Carl, back at the diner, is talking to the serving lady who I've named Sugar. They talk about the Bigfoot sighting, and then a load of black cars and a freaking helicopter turn up. Sugar shouts for someone to raise the prices.

Turns out all the men in black people are Hair Co looking for Bigfoot - and Asshole is with them. Carl explains about where he saw Bigfoot and an agent finds Adam's backpack (I said it was important) and his address in it. Asshole smirks again.

Two of the Agents of Hair turn up at Adam's address, break in and find the letters. Meanwhile, Shelly - the mum - is driving to the address on the bark in search of Adam.

This is where it gets a little nuts. Adam wakes up in some tree next with Bigfoot - inexplicably in a pair of jeans that look far too small for him because of all the fur - is standing over him. Adam understandably freaks out and tries to leave, only to nearly die from falling. Bigfoot grabs him before he does and explains that he is Adam's dad. His not dead, very much alive, rather furry and never named dad. (For that reason I'm going to keep calling him Bigfoot.) Adam calls bullshit and threatens him with a twig, then sees that the middle of the treehouse is decorated in photos of him and his mum. This somehow proves to Adam that Bigfoot is his dad, and I'm sure you guessed from the title. He then freaks out again, calling his dad a monster and Bigfoot makes the most funny offended face in animated history.

He then accuses Bigfoot of running away, to which Bigfoot responds with "Woah." He then explains that someone *cough* Hair Co *cough* *cough* were hunting him and he had to leave to keep Adam and Shelly safe. Adam then asks him what he meant by 'lab rat', making Bigfoot change the subject to Shelly and whether she knows Adam is here. Adam lies, his dad catches it, and they argue for a bit before Bigfoot says "Your mum must be worried sick."

Cut to Shelly driving up to a blockade set up by the Agents of Hair. They say they're looking for her, and she tries to escape but the Agents of Hair stop her.

Back at the treehouse, apparently Bigfoot and Adam have stopped arguing and Bigfoot is going on about being sorry he missed Adam's childhood and how Shelly sent everything to him. Adam then asks if he's going to have Bigfoot stuff happen to him - mostly refuring to the fur (I'm not sorry for the pun) - and Bigfoot says no. He then explains that he's already thirteen and hasn't shown any signs of being a bigfoot. Adam says "Yes I have. My feet went weird and so did my hearing." They eventually work out that Adam got all of the cool stuff about being a bigfoot and none of the fur. Cool stuff? I hear you and Adam ask. Turns out bigfoots (bigfeet?) have healing powers (which is how Adam is walking on a leg that got caught in a beartrap), run really fast, hear super well (like things around a mile away) and can talk to animals. They then zipline down to the ground, do some weird surfing thing and fall over. During the next 20 minutes, we meet two racoons, a squirrel and a woodpecker. Oh, yeah, and a giant bear. There's some nonsense with two idiotic hunters, baseball, some geysers and then they end up back at the treehouse. This sickeningly sweet bonding shit is interrupted by the raccoons who report that the Agents of Hair are scouring the forest looking for Bigfoot. Bigfoot blames Adam, which is fair but also really not, who then decides to give himself up to Asshole and the Agents of Hair. They take him to his mum and he tricks them into climbing into a geyser. This pisses of Asshole who, in a plot to lure out Bigfoot, traps Adam in a car and sends him into a forest fire the Agents of Hair started. When Bigfoot shows up to try and save Adam, he gets Adam out of the car but is shot by Asshole with a stun dart. The massive bear whose name is Wilbur saves Adam but a burning branch gets in the way of him going back for Bigfoot, who is captured by Asshole. Adam then blacks out from smoke inhalation. When he comes to, Wilbur and the other animals decide to leave, but Adam convinces them to help him save Bigfoot in a Mission Impossible style heist.

Back at Hair Co, Billingsley has almost perfected a hair formula and shoots the intern again, causing all his hair to grow prolifically. Asshole is pleased by this.

While that's happening, Adam and the rest break into Hair Co's nearest facility, and during the commotion, all of them but Adam get captured. Adam makes it to his dad, who then refuses to leave in a plot twist everyone saw coming, aside from Adam who is confused. Asshole has apparently promised to care for Shelly and Adam and not kill them in exchange for Bigfoot allowing them to run experiments on him. Adam, who is not crazy and doesn't trust Asshole, tries to convince Bigfoot to leave but then Asshole himself turns up and takes Adam out of the lab. Asshole talks about how Adam is going to like being rich while Adam spots a fire alarm, breaks it and causes the only door in to seal itself with him on the inside. This greatly pisses off Asshole, who yells for security to open the door and that the fire is a false alarm. Security guy, who Adam and co knocked out earlier, comes to, hears fire and sounds the evacuation alarm. Asshole gets taken to the bridge, leaving only Adam inside.

Adam then steals an access card from a guard he knocked out, releases all the animals, including the ones used by Hair Co to test stuff on (who all leave the compound and follow the evacuating Agents of Hair), and cause chaos. During said chaos Adam gets a flare gun. He goes back to Bigfoot and this time succeeds in convincing him to leave, threatening to tell Asshole that he's a Bigfoot too. This sentiment is quite sweet as he says that "If you don't leave, then I'm staying. It's the two of us here or the two of us out there, but I'm not loosing you again." They leave and Bigfoot decides to go into a large production area and break all of the gas pipes, deciding that Hair Co is going to be put out of business, permanently. They break many gas lines, leading to the door to be sealed so no gas escapes. They escape through a vent and come out at the top of Hair Co, and zipline down to the bridge using the cables holding it up.

Asshole is there waiting for them. He has found out that Adam is also a bigfoot and shoots Bigfoot several times with stun darts then kicks him off the bridge. Adam, with the most 'fuck you' look, shoots the flare gun's flare into Hair Co, igniting the gas and exploding the building and making the bridge collapse.

Adam then runs to the end of the bridge and climbs down to try and find his dad. Asshole also falls off the bridge because of his own stupidity and the Agents of Hair being incompetent.

In the gorge below, Adam finds his dad badly injured and dying. He cries at first, hugging his dad and his hands glow with blue swirls of light that disappear as soon as he takes his hand away from Bigfoot's arm. He then remembers the healing powers his dad told him about, and uses them on his dad. The blue magic makes Bigfoot's body rise into the air as the healing powers try to heal him, then gently place him back on the ground after Adam is done.

Bigfoot doesn't move.

"No!" Adam cries out, sobbing again. Then Bigfoot moves and wakes up, they hug, the animals show up and it's all very sweet, blah blah blah.

And then along comes Asshole, looking rather deranged and pointing a stun gun at them. He starts monologuing about how "it did not have to end this way" and then is shot in the ass by Shelly. Bigfoot, Shelly and Adam decide on "no more hiding". Meanwhile, the male raccoon discovers that Asshole has been wearing a toupee the entire time.

It turns out that Billingsley and the intern survived.

A few weeks/months later (it's actually only about a week later) Bigfoot and the animals are living happily with Shelly and Adam, who is returning to school after his suspension.

On the way, the bullies return and try to beat up Adam, only to be scared by Wilbur the massive bear. They end up with broken bikes (curtesy of the raccoons) and bruises. The blonde girl from the office shows up at the end of the confrontation and asks to walk to school with Adam. She also asks what happened to his shoes, as his feet bust out when the bullies show up. He jokes that he should switch to sandals, and the film ends on them walking away with his shoes hanging from a telephone pole.

It's a wild ride and I'd honestly recommend it to anyone with an hour and a half to spare. Despite what it looks like, I didn't get in everything and the whole film is a lot funnier that I said here.

This film got an 8/10.

[leverage-commentary]

Leverage Season 2, Episode 10, The Runway Job, Audio Commentary Transcript

[Silence]

John: Marc?

Marc: Hi, I'm Marc Roskin, Producer and Director of this episode.

John: I'm John Rogers, Executive Producer, and the one with the Guinness, so you have no excuse for missing that cue.

Albert: And I'm Albert Kim, I'm the writer of the Runway Job.

John: Here we go. And this is a great opening sequence, what- is this a set Marc Roskin? How did you create this incredible look?

Marc: This is the largest girls school uniform factory on the west coast, and they-

John: So this is some sort of internet connection where you order school uniforms or-?

Marc: It was very hot. No, this was-

Albert: Strangely Marc knows a lot about girls’ school uniforms. I don’t know why, but-

Marc: Yes, this was an actual working factory. A lot of the background workers are some of the factory employees who knew how to operate the machines. It was right across the river, really close, and they opened their doors to us just like everybody did in Portland.

John: I love the fact that we wanted to do a fake sweatshop, so when we shot in there, when they saw the hours they shot the workers in the fake sweatshop, we're like, ‘These hours are horrible. How can you people work under these conditions?’ And Albert, since we’ve just seen someone collapse with these- this great shop, which, actually, I believe was the pitch. How did you come up with the idea for the episode?

Albert: Well as you know, I'm quite the fashion icon in the office, so it was quite natural for me.

[Laughter]

John: Yes.

Albert: No, I knew that I wanted to set an episode in the fashion world because it seemed like a fun environment to get into, and lots of great visuals and scenes with models and fashion designers and runway shows. So I knew the area was there, and then so the trick was coming up with a sympathetic victim, and then, as always, a credible villain and threat. So I did a little research and finding the victim wasn't too tough, because the real- in the real world, the fashion industry has sort of been dogged by allegations of sweatshop abuse for a while, so having the sweatshop victim came fairly easy. Finding the threat required a little more research, but as I dug into it, I found that it was actually a real world connection between sweatshops and global clothing counterfeiting, which is controlled by the Chinese Triads.

John: It's interesting because a lot of people talk about intellectual rights and stuff in new international treaties and people immediately think of movies, television, digital rights. A lot of it also involved intellectual rights on clothing.

Albert: Yes. Clothing counterfeiting actually counts for more of the income of these Triads than illegal narcotics trade. So it’s a huge billion dollar business for them and right then, sort of, the pieces fell into place for the elements of the episode.

John: And now these actresses are, Marc?

Marc: That is- um-

Albert: Jen.

Marc: Cathy Vu.

Albert: Cathy Vu and Jen Hong.

Marc: On our left and Jen Hong, and they were great though local Portland actresses. And they knew how to speak some Mandariarin and it worked out great. This was actually, in the shooting order, Jeri Ryan's first episode working with us.

John: Yeah, it's really interesting because, you know, the crew- the cast was genuinely kind of freaked out by Gina not being on set, and so a lot of the weird vibe you get on this episode is from ‘there's a new person’ and of course Jeri became great friends with everyone and really fit in, but it was a really interesting vibe the first couple days on set. It really felt like, yes, Jeri’s a new person here; we don't quite know how to handle it.

Marc: But we had to play it like she was already part of the team because we shot these out of order.

John: It does help that really you don't make her part of the team until the end of the previous episode. 

Marc: Right.

John: This is almost a cold relaunch.

Albert: And we played that in the episode, too, so you sort of everyone's tentativeness around her worked well for the dynamics within- the character dynamics within the story as well.

John: And this is, again, this wass also a scene we added just to- It was interesting, we really wanted to make sure that everyone understood that Sophie- Because originally there was going to be a giant gap between episodes, we wanted to make sure everyone understood Sophie signs off on this. You know, audiences were very attached to Gina Bellman - rightfully so - and we did not want them to think we were shuffling her off and bringing in a new actor. We listen to you. Not a lot, not really.

[Laughter]

John: But we do listen to the bigger screams. Also love the callback there that Hardison screwed up in the Ice Man and that's what motivated this entire- this entire replacement.

Marc: We always like to bring up Hardison's screw ups; blowing up offices and whatnot.

John: Blowing up offices. But it's interesting that this is one of those trios where you just kind of park the camera and, you know, they have the dialogue, just let them run; let them do 4 or 5 versions, get the hell out of their way.

Albert: And this scene is really our version of: the kids are wondering where mommy went. You know, so it's like they are a little uncomfortable, it's a new family dynamic, so they're on the phone with her.

John: Yeah.

Marc: Right. But of course, they don't want dad to know that they are speaking to mom.

Albert: Yeah.

John: Yeah, and that's a- that actually started in Ice Man, where they are calling and not telling Nate. And we continued it all the way through where they just don't feel comfortable letting Nate know. And that was a nice little moment with Beth, you know, just ‘I miss you’. It's not often we crack the shell on Parker, that's part of the advancement of the character, to show that she's comfortable in the family, even if she’s not comfortable with other humans. And these two actors the- not those actors, that's stock photography- but the two actors playing the bad guys are?

Marc: Grace and what's her last name?

Albert: Grace Hsu and Tom Choi.

Marc: Grace was a Portland local, she was fabulous; and Tom came from Los Angeles. They did a really great job. 

John: The con here is kind of convoluted. It's interesting, just watching this, is the idea that we really had to come into the fashion show from- the fashion industry is one of those industries where if you're inside it, you know everything. We had to constantly figure out, what does the audience need to know in order to understand what we're doing without overexplaining it?

Albert: Right. Again, this is a case where research helped. I mean, to actually looking into what happens during fashions shows. It's based on a real life event, Fashion Week, which normally takes place in New York though there are regional ones all around the country where there are big showcases for new designers as well as opportunities for the stylish designers to bring out their new lines and things like that. So we knew we had an event that was tied to a specific time which helped; it gave us a very limited time frame. And then, again, researching into how the Triads operate and what their connection is to the clothing industry. All of that just helped flesh out the con.

John: I love the Parker giving her instructions on how to be photographed, you know Sophie gave her instructions three weeks ago for some other con. And this was kind of fun, creating the idea for how do you create- in modern media, how do you create the illusion of an actual human existing for some period of time, object permanence to a great degree?

Albert: Right.

John: So you figured out how to- you know, my wife watches a lot of fashion TV and it was kind of backing up: how do I actually know who the hell any of these people are? And it was because of the fashion shows and magazines. Cover both of those and you're done. And DVRs have certainly been a boon. And also this, printing off one magazine it's actually easier than we made it look. 

Albert: Yeah.

Marc: Oh yeah.

John: There's actually a service that prints off short runs of magazines that you can use if you're say doing a trade show or running a con.

Albert: This was all done on location. Beautiful house. This beautiful house in- was it in Clackamas?

Marc: Yeah, just outside of Clackamas.

Albert: It was great. It was a huge mansion that worked perfectly, and we ended up recreating the mansion later when we blow it up.

John: Also that what they're doing there, where they are looping, that's exactly what it looks like at Electric Entertainment - it’s basically just a laptop and a mic in the kitchen and that's how we finish up these episodes. No, but it was fun to be able to say, ‘Oh well, put the words on her mouth when we’re on her back, just like we do with actors.’ 

Marc: Right.

John: Presently, Tim Hutton delivers no more than 50% of the dialogue you hear per episode. We put the rest in his mouth later with a cunning Tim Hutton imitator. Yeah, this is to close off the sale that she's locked in.

Marc: Yeah, just to continue the sale.

John: Now Marc, you directed a bunch of episodes by this point, coming into this, right?

Marc: Yes.

John: And what was it like having a new human on the staff?

Marc: It was interesting. We- it brought a new life to it, and was interesting to see how everybody worked together. And she was just trying to get a feel for everybody and, you know, she was really easy going and said, ‘Listen, if you want a different performance, please, I'm here to help you guys.’

John: ‘Who likes to do this style? Who likes to do that style? Is that head writer really drinking that much in the middle of the day?’ Basic questions.

Marc: What is that smell coming from his trailer?

John: It's shame. It's the smell of shame. This scene was actually not in the original shoot, right? We wound up- this is one of the scenes that was: how much do we explain to the audience? Do they explain what Fashion Week is or isn't? And when we kinda looked at the first cut, it was like, you know what? I know because I watch it on Saturday morning on fashion TV, but we gotta make sure we establish the rules.

Albert: Right. Just a little more explanation as to how the fashion world works and where the con is going; just another step in the process.

John: And an excuse to get Aldis in orange.

Marc: Exactly and have Aldis in orange and Eliot in mascara.

John: That's eye makeup, that's not mascara.

Marc: Sorry.

John: Don’t. Please. Please, I don't want that phone call again, don't make that mistake.

[Laughter]

Albert: What's great about that factory, even this part of this set was also in that factory. 

Marc: This was just another portion of it.

John: Wait, so all the dresses and stuff, did we bring those in or those were-?

Marc: Yeah, we just put up the bolts of fabric and some employees.

Albert: We spent a lot of time in that sweatshop.

John: Yeah. As one does.

Marc: As one does. 

John: I love, by the way, in this episode, just watching what Kane is doing behind her during this scene. I'm- he's making a lot of interesting choices for Eliot there. Especially with the card snap coming up. And this was a lot of fun, too; this was a lot of the fun of the show is learning all the rules and idiosyncrasies of each industry.

Albert: Sure, that's part of the formula is figuring out what's the interesting world you can look into and then diving into and explaining to the audience how these worlds work.

Marc: Well it's funny, cause she needs to explain it to her teammates on the show.

John: And the card! I love the card delivery.

Marc: And the card the bam, yeah, you get to explain it to the teammates and explain it to the audience as well.

John: We’re really replicating what we’re doing in the room. Which is, one person knows the field pretty well and they explain- I remember when we did Iceman and we were talking about getting the serial numbers off the diamonds and Chris Downey was like, ‘I'm not following’ and I went, ‘It's like getting VIN numbers off a car’. ‘Oh, ok perfect!’ And that wound up in the script. Also this was fun having somebody who didn't know how the earbuds worked; it kinda reset the rules for the audience. And some beautiful- how did we get all this beautiful Boston stock footage?

Marc: Some we bought, some we shot. 

John: You actually went out and shot a lot.

Marc: I did. Myself and Dave Connell spent a couple days running around the great city of Boston.

John: Now this is your directing debut, isn’t it Albert?

Albert: It wasn’t my debut, but it was probably the longest sequence I've done.

John: And it's just naked backs.

Albert: It was just tedious, grueling labor to just have to order these models around to take off their clothes and take off their shoes. No, it was great, it was. We already had the set, we finished the big scenes in the set, so Marc let me take a few people out and just get as much fun behind the scenes stuff you can, so that’s kind of where we ended up.

Marc: You and Norbert, right?

Albert: Yeah, Norbert. That was one of his first days there.

John: I love the hair. Whose idea was the Swiss Miss hair?

Albert: Well the other thing about this episode was hair, makeup, wardrobe, obviously had a field day with it. They were really excited about being able to put their best foot forward on a lot of this stuff, so they were able to-

Marc: Yeah, they really had a good time.

John: I also love the fact that Hardison is basically using CIA technique of human intel signals  and analysis on the PA’s on a fashion show to figure out who’s in charge without actually figuring it out. It's a lot of fun, and our friend Apollo Robbins helped us out with the envelope slip, and it helps that Beth is very good-

Marc: This girl is great; she was a lot of fun, this girl, Caitlyn, Caitlyn Larimore. We- she read for us a few times on other things; we just knew there was gonna be something for her eventually.

John: So really, if you're looking to act, you should get out of whatever little LA or New York, whatever little hick town you're in and move to Portland because that's where you're gonna get some work.

Marc: Move to Portland; that's where it's gonna happen.

John: This actually hacking into the printer is something we've done before. A favorite trick of Apollo is to print stuff out in your office when you don't realize something is about to happen. And then the slide- 

Marc: That wonderful calligraphy on those envelopes was my mother in-law’s.

John: Really? That's great.

Marc: Yes, Louise.

John: We didn’t pay her did we?

Marc: Oh god no.

John: Alright, just making sure. We are a cable show.

Albert: But she ends up featured as a featured extra in the episode, too. She's in the fashion show; you'll see her later staring down Parker.

John: Mother-in-law? You got your mother-in-law on tv?

Marc: That's right.

John: Wow, you're the best son-in-law ever. This actress- actually nice shot. We wound up repeating that character later. I remember we were kinda restructuring; we were like, ‘Oh, we can just use her again, that’s fine.’

Albert: I remember watching her read, and she was great at it, so we decided to, rather than use a separate character for a scene later on, just, you know, bring her back. And she wound up doing that scene later when they approach the security people.

John: Just some love for the extra, ‘Hey, how are you doing?’ A little something from Eliot just for you.

Marc: Just a little.

Albert: Well he had to know that if you're gonna do a fashion episode, one with lots of models, that Eliot was gonna be right in the thick of things there.

John: Yeah. And the overheard- How did you stage this? The overheard conversation is a staple of the show and the bane of all directors everywhere.

Marc: Yeah, we didn't have a lot of time on this day, but we figured out a way; just keep her in the background, eventually a couple close ups of her ears perk, and soon they'll drag her in deeper. 

John: Now each one of them is doing a specific person. I can't remember, he's doing-

Marc: Lagerfeld.

John: He's doing Lagerfeld. She’s doing Donatella Versace. I can't remember the British guy that Hardison is locked in on, cause I remember Aldis actually had pictures of him. I’m trying to remember...

Albert: André Leon Talley from Vogue, who is the legendary creative director of Vogue. And he's sort of channeling him. But yeah, again, during the course of research-

Marc: I got my ladder shot in there, by the way. I'm just two for two on-

John: On having ladders in your-

Marc: Yeah.

John: That's good; that's excellent.

Albert: This whole set was built; this was the whole fashion show.

John: We actually built this in the museum that we shot the finale for 207 in, right?

Marc: No, this was just an empty warehouse. 

John: Did we have permission?

Marc: Yes we did.

John: Good. Cause sometimes we don't; sometimes we just build stuff and then get the hell out before the cops show.

Marc: Yes, we used a lot of fabric to hide things.

Albert: But the beauty of it is, if you go to real fashion shows, it's kind of what it is. The highlight of fashions shows are supposed to be the clothes, so they keep the surroundings very minimal, and that's- that's always the idea of a fashion show. So luckily for us, it's fairly easy to recreate realistically as a set.

Marc: A lot of times it's just a wedding tent and a runway and chairs.

Albert: Well anyone who's watched Project Runway can see what it's like. It’s just a runway and some folding chairs.

John: I thought we built- that's interesting. Where did we go back to the museum for? I can't remember; it's gonna drive me crazy. Whose idea was the buckles?

Albert: Buckles was something I came up with in the script when I was trying to figure out how to explain what a poor designer Gloria is.

John: What's the one thing nobody likes a lot of?

Marc: Buckles.

Albert: So it became a little joke that someone that- someone, I think it was Chris actually pitched the joke about ‘pilgrim chic’ which we put in there, and found out later that that's actually kind of a real thing. If you make up any kind of joke in the fashion world you'll find out eventually that it's a real thing somewhere.

John: Yes.

Marc: This was actually the workers rec room, which was pretty much an open area room and- 

John: You're kind of ruining the whole sweatshop vibe with, like, ‘They had a rec room.’

Marc: Yeah, they had a rec room and basically we've pretty much four walled it. 

John: Yup.

Marc: And, you know, put in-

John: Which means?

Marc: To put up a wall to close it off. 

John: So this is a bigger space behind him.

Marc: Yeah, it's actually pretty much the same size, but it's just a platform where they had their lunch table set up. But we liked the ability to have shots like that where we can look down onto the floor, it was always-

John: And then shoot back up.

Marc: It was always something that I know that you guys mention, that we wanna have more connection with our victims. So we placed that shot-

John: It is tricky, particularly when we’re doing complicated ones, you can lose track of that vic that's in the opening, and we really tried this year to tie it back a little bit more.

Albert: Yeah, it was interesting. I had a conversation with another writer just the other day about - who works on a crime procedural - and they have the same issue about how to connect with their victims. It's much harder for them because usually their victims are dead. So they show up in the beginning dead, and they can wrap things up with the relative of the victim at the end. If you notice, what a lot of crime shows do is they have flashbacks, so then you get to learn the personality of the victims through the flashbacks.

John: Oh, interesting.

Albert: So we don't do that, but our victims are alive so there are opportunities, like in this scene, to reconnect with the people who we’re working for and establish what our emotional stakes are.

John: And this is also one of the places where we sort of set up- and if you watch what we did with Jeri’s character, and sort of the difference between Sophie and Tara Cole. Tara Cole is a short grifter. Sophie is never gonna push it, she's never gonna try to get the big payout. And Tara’s job is to get in and get out with as much money as possible, so this is one of the times where we really sort of set up how she needs to adjust. Though when you look at the back half, we don't really change it that much. The team doesn't really change, it's- she kind of adjusts herself to fit in the team a bit more. They wind up using her short term push just as a different sort of batter.

Albert: Whereas personality-wise, there's something you told me I remember which helped make everything click which was - Tara is really kind of a guy’s girl. You know, she's the kind of girl who sits around and watches football with the guys on Sundays. Sophie is very much a girl's girl; she's out there doing the shopping and fashion and all that stuff. So that kind of distinguishes the two characters. Although they fulfill the same role within the team, they're very distinctive in terms of their personality. 

John: But that's also from when we originally created the show. A lot of these characters have slightly different personalities, and the actors brought other personalities, and we realized as long as that job was fulfilled in the team, you can range pretty widely within there. How did you shoot- where the hell is she?

Albert: She's supposed to be-

Marc: Tashkent, right?

Albert: Tashkent. So- 

John: Uzbekistan?

Albert: Yes.

John: Oh right there you go. Of course. ‘Cause Tashkent is in Uzbekistan. Who doesn't know that?

Albert: Right.

Marc: And yes, so we shot Gina on a much later date, during a later episode, and just one green screen and some stock footage behind a little wind machine and there you are.

Albert: And camels.

Marc: And some camels, yes.

John: As one has in Tashkent. 

Marc: In Portland.

John: Oh no, we went to the Portland zoo see, I was hoping you'd give them the whole speech about sand, and yeah. That's a little bit of jealousy, a little bit of- and that was another thing, too, to make sure that Sophie wasn't just a character that you checked in with once a week. She had to have her own little arc that whenever you went to her she had a distinct attitude about the team. Yes and the reindeer gag, which I really foolishly insisted on keeping in the script because it was my favorite bit.

Albert: It was brilliant; it was great; it was all John.

John: That's mine. Whenever you see a joke that doesn't quite work and seems kind of doomed but we keep, that's usually me diggin in at the table, particularly if it's absurdist. Now did we put banners up or is that digital?

Marc: Digital. Those were digital banners on the building. Do our little whip pans to Eliot and whip back. 

John: Just to establish, yes, he's with a model. Where do you think he was gonna be? And he’s out.

Marc: And he's angry he has to leave the model.

John: The- and again, it was interesting to, sort of, know that we had to plot out these arcs on the back six, and figuring out exactly, like, how do we show trust and acceptance? And, you know, you can do it in dialogue, but you don't want people talking about their intentions. And the ear bud became kind of an interesting metaphor; it goes in and out of use over the back six and even with Eliot we wound up using it.

Marc: Yeah, it's like the chief asking for your gun and badge.

John: Yeah, exactly. And it also solved the problem later when you know it’s- she shouldn't have heard X. 

Albert: Right.

John: And that's a big problem on the show is in theory, if they can all hear each other’s conversations... Whereas a lot of cop shows, a big chunk of the time is, ‘What did you find out from witness x, Billy?’ What did you find out about witness y? Alright now let's put it together.’ They know. Now how did we do this blow?

Marc: Now that wass digital smoke, and that is a model.

Albert: Green screen model.

Marc: Yeah, we modeled the windows and actually shot it in our parking lot right here in Highland, in Santa Monica Boulevard.

John: Now we built- we do builds on the- building’s blowing up is better with models. The cars we've found we can do just digitally, but the buildings really look great with the model.

Marc: But we still use the model for the car as well. We just don't have the time or the money to do full explosions, you know, we do just a little aftermath with some debris and smoke.

Albert: Especially when it's someone's real house.

Marc: Yes.

Albert: Don't want to-

John: Generally they kind of frown on that, of just blow out the windows.

Albert: Because last year we did, Marc and I worked on another episode where we blow up a warehouse. And it was an abandoned warehouse, so you blow out the windows and break the glass, so it's not such a big deal.

Marc: Yeah, we did a little damage to the Prison Break set on that. What they shot was-

John: I remember, because I pulled up the day you were shooting that, I was like ‘I hope I haven't missed the blow.’ I was a quarter mile away and my windshield shook and I'm like OK, that was a little bigger than we anticipated’.

Albert: But this was a house with six kids was it?

Marc: Six kids, yeah.

Albert: So it was-

John: So blowing it up wouldn't have changed it all that much.

Albert: Probably not. Actually that family was incredibly neat.

John: And this is a lot of fun. And again, this is where, if you pay attention, we never tell you Tara’s backstory; if you pay attention all six episodes, you can figure out exactly what Tara used to do before she became a con woman. The information she knows, the way she puts stuff together, you’ll figure it out. Also the yelling. This was a lot of fun, because Eliot would be annoyed in this situation, and Chris Kane is never funnier than when Eliot is incredibly annoyed.

Marc: That’s right, and it's usually with Hardison.

John: Yeah. Thank you, I don't know how you make this show without phone cameras I really- we couldn't have made this show in 1978 this would've been a lot harder.

Albert: Or earbuds.

John: Or earbuds. Well earbuds we could've got around, but- no earbuds might have made our life easier, actually.

Albert: This was another thing that came up in research, actually, when I wrote a book about the Chinese Triads, and it is actually true that they're signature weapon is a meat cleaver. We looked at a few pictures of them, they're pretty impressive; they are really big and they have engravings on them, stuff like that. I've also looked at way too many pictures of victims of the Triads.

Marc: Yeah, missing fingers, and hands, and arms.

Albert: But that, again, it just added another fun element, knowing that there was, in reality there was a signature weapon that they use, and gave Eliot another fight scene.

John: Of course they'd be fancy meat cleavers, you're not gonna just pick a meat cleaver at Tesco or the kitchen section of Best Buy; you're gonna get one specially made. This was a lot of fun, too, something we haven't done in a while, which was watching Eliot figure out his fight space. You know, control access doing the math in this head. You know, it's always a little easier if no ones around him, just so he can tear people around a little easier. Fun stunt. Jerri did this, right?

Marc: Yeah, she was really nervous about doing her first fight with us, but she was a trooper; she did a great job.

John: She actually killed that guy. I feel a little bad about that, that's the first time we've admitted that, but you know. This was one of my favorite fights, cause we don't do a lot of weapon fights.

Marc: Yeah.

John: And it really reads well; the cleavers read real. Also we do a nice fight style with Chris here.

Albert: We did use cleavers back in the first season with the Wedding Job.

John: Oh that's right, we had the kitchen thing.

Albert: A kitchen thing. But it was a different kind of fight; it was a one on one in an enclosed space. This was an open space with multiple attackers ,and again, different props to use. So like, you saw the mannequin dummy there, and the rolling carts, and things like that, and so it ended up being a really fun scene.

John: And again, thank god for the surveillance culture - the fact that there are so many traffic cameras. Although you may bitch about privacy, it really helps us.

Marc: It really, really helps us.

John: This was interesting. This- I forget how this came up, I think the fact he had two IDs, but they had only checked one. I had a friend who was a Mountie- and remember, we were talking about my buddy who had done undercover up in Canada, and gh said the problem was, the guys got the fake, ran up records on fake Canadian IDs and you never knew the original crimes. Yeah. ‘Hey, how does Tara Cole know how to handle a meat cleaver?’ You’ll find-

Marc: Yup.

John: There you go, and that's a nice hit. And the head butt. I love the head butt, I'm sorry, man, that's a great way to end a fight.

Marc: She gets to take part.

John: Also, there's a lot of really nice hair flipping around in that fight scene, I gotta say.

Marc: I love-

John: I don't know whose looks better.

Marc: It's like a [Unintelligible. Sounds like ‘Germat’?] commercial.

[Laughter]

John: And that's, again, one of the problems with having a really uber competent team is, ‘OK they would have run this guy's background. What is the one loophole we could find that Hardison could screw up?’ You know, it's not screw up, it's nobody’s perfect.

Albert: It's just overlooked.

John: That's the trick, it has to always be some sort of fair play thing. Not a mistake, not just a ‘I didn't look in that drawer.’ This is a legitimate loophole.

Albert: Look how great this location is, though. It's everywhere; there's stuff everywhere. We really would not have been able to duplicate this on a set. 

Marc: No.

John: What? No?

Marc: Never. 

John: I love that he keeps the voice up here. That killed me here the first time I saw the dalies I was like, ‘Is he still doing Lagerfeld’?

Marc: Jack Bouvier. 

John: Yeah the fingerless gloves are really the pièce de résistance there. There's a lot of stuff there that could be on anybody, but the fingerless gloves really digs in.

Albert: Again, that's straight out of the Lagerfeld book.

Marc: Tim went for it.

John: Are those glasses actually rose tinted?

Albert: Yes.

John: Yes they are, that's magnificent. And the evil speech of evil: ‘Listen, I'm just a businessman. I have obligations.’ You know, in his head he's keeping many people employed back in China. You know, and he's a copy fighter, he's like those electronic freedom foundation guys who doesn't believe in copyright.

Albert: He's a hero, really.

John: He is a hero.

Albert: Of his own story, but- 

John: Exactly, he just happens to interact with our story. 

Albert: Exactly.

John: And this is actually a cue, this is a hint to where Nate’s- This winds up being the first episode of the second half of the season. This is kind of a hint of where Nate’s arc is going for the season, where he's getting so addicted to control and not losing and beating the bad guy, he's starting to make poor decisions. And he makes a series of remarkably poor decisions through the back six that really just the competence of the team protects him from.

Albert: He's kind of like those football teams that keep pulling it out in the 4th quarter and just decide that's just what they have to do. So they don’t mind coasting through the rest of the game or even, you know, getting down and behind before then.

John: Yeah it's- it's the mental discipline, and something that Parker says later on in the season which is, ‘Be the Nate Ford that we came back for.’ The mental discipline that made him legendary and which they count on is starting to slip. And it's not because of the booze, it's because of what he's substituting the booze with.

Marc: Right.

John: This is me drinking my Guinness, by the way.

[Laughter]

Albert: It's not your Guinness, it's what you’re substituting for the Guinness.

John: No, no, this is my Guinness; I'm actually drinking.

Albert: Oh ok. It's actually another Guiness that is substituting for his Guinness.

[Laughter]

John: It's, again, a Guinness that's somewhere else that I would like to be drinking. Some bargaining, trying to get them to take Eliot instead of Jeri.

Marc: That wasn't something he planned for. 

John: No, no, and it's interesting, and again, this is all trust issues. She kind of volunteered herself for this position, she’s, you know- 

Albert: The trick is, part of the whole episode was really the character dynamics. Because it was a new character, because it was a new team member, even though she'd been introduced in the episode beforehand, this is really the first full con they run together as a team. So it was a very tricky thing, and so I had the outlines of what the broad strokes would be, but this is the point when you go to the show runner and you say, ‘John how does this work, exactly?’ And then John takes over.

John: We stare at the ceiling and- that's what the writers room is for. And this is great, we actually wound up paralleling this shot. You created this shot for this episode, Marc; we wound up paralleling this argument in, like, two other episodes. There's actually a similar version of this shot in the first half in the season finale, where it's like, we are now sitting judgment of Nate Ford, and we’re a little distrubed that we’re not feeling very comfortable here. Yeah, and this cutting pattern replicates, and it’s interesting, and it's because we have editors working over certain episodes that make certain choices. And those are I think the names of-

Albert: They were real Electric Entertainment employees.

John: ‘Maybe I want to meet...’ Yes. Hardison is the most hard done by character; he never gets what he wants. And that, again, is one of those things where this episode was shot in 6 ½ days.

Marc: Yes, there's my mother-in-law.

John: There you go; she's a lovely woman.

Marc: A lovely woman.

John: Are you checking the list of actors to pick her name up? That's not good.

Marc: No, gosh no.

John: You know, we had four different ways this scam works. All depending on exactly how this shooting schedule worked out. And I remember I had to sit down with my wife and I was like, ‘Alright’, cause she's big into this, I was like, ‘Exactly what is the timing and choreography on a fashion show?’ And there, the thing with the dresses and they're all transported across town. So it was a good lesson for writers is, the great thing about TV is you're shooting every week; the really great thing about TV that will also drive you crazy is, you learn how to have a bunch of choices. Because sometimes the world decides not cooperate with you, and you can't shut down production for two days and just go- You've worked on big films, you've seen this. Like, ‘You know what? We're just gonna take a day off and find the right location.’

Marc: Yes.

John: No. Not so much.

Albert: The scene coming up with Parker in the gown. This is really, if you think about it and you say that you're gonna do an episode with the Leverage team involved in the fashion world, kind of the promise of the premise is you're gonna get Parker in a fashion show. In a gown, in a fashion show.

John: Right, because she's the one person who would despise it.

Albert: Right, and you kind of have to deliver this scene.

John: This was also shot later, and it was interesting because we don't usually get Parker and Eliot- you know, Parker and Eliot in a two-hander. And if you go back, you can see in the back half of the season when we- especially when we saw how it worked out in The Lost Heir Job, it became kind of a little more standard that we go to this partnership. You also see it pop up in the bottle show, the bar show, what the hell did we call it?

Marc: Bottle Job.

John: We called it The Bottle Job, that's right.

Marc: The problem with doing these two-handers is he can get her to laugh and break.

John: Yeah, Chris can crack Beth up. Him doing the dirty dresses on the floor line, Beth I think broke character maybe ten times because we are in the basement shooting that day. 

Marc: And this is the dress that Nadine our costume designer built.

Albert: Yeah.

John: It's a pretty amazing dress.

Marc: A beautiful dress.

John: The thumb drive of intent. Thank you thumb drive, for giving us a short hand so audiences know what we're doing. 

Marc: Yes, so she basically- you'll see that all of the Andre V, that's the Andre V character, has a touch of yellow in it.

John: That's right. Nadine created a unified theme for the fashion line - the fake fashion line that we were doing. 

Albert: She created an actual line.

Marc: Yeah, so she created a whole line and there's a touch of yellow in everything and as you’ll see when we get to the runway-

John: Where's this dress? We should auction this dress off.

Albert: Nadine probably has it.

Marc: It's actually in my car.

John: Oh no. I wish I didn't know that.

Marc: And then Dave Connell carried it with the lighting design as well.

John: Oh that's great, that is great. It's like we do this for a living.

Marc: Almost.

John: I love that Parker does the most- the little slide across the spot; that's a lot of fun. And now, did you shoot this at night? You had how many days on this set?

Marc: I think we did this-

John: You had the day, which was the warm up and then-

Marc: I think we had this location for two days.

John: That's not bad.

Marc: That's Jeffery Gilbert who played Andre V; he was just great. And I love Parker with the moves.

John: With the big head turn.

Marc: Just for a moment she thinks she got it under control, of course.

John: No, not so much. Walking is hard; walking in those heels is hard.

Albert: Walking in heels is hard.

John: I also love the little improv- it wasn’t in the script, but I remember seeing it in the dalies - she cracks her neck.

Marc: Yes that was definite Parker move. And I know this had to be- the scene coming up had to be a John Rogers line, where it's written that Andre V is banging his head repeatedly against the wall.

[Laughter]

John: Well, yeah, because I do that in the writers room.

Marc: And they said, ‘We gotta move on.’ I said, ‘No, I need to get the guy banging his head.’

John: Trust me, have some sympathy. And this is where we pay off the idea that Tara has heard about this team, and now believes she's given Nate one clue as to what she’s gonna do and she's desperately hoping they're as good as they think they are, and she’s doing the set up to this, she's setting up this beat. It was tricky, because we did actually play- she does actually look like she's selling the team out here, and if you're watching the DVD, you are watching all the way through the seasons. aAnd we did go back and forth on how loyal would she be to the team. And it really is the fact that one of the reasons you watch the show, or at least I think one of the reasons you watch the show, is the family vibe.

Albert: Absolutely.

John: And just having somebody who wasn’t into the family vibe in the middle of it, it might've been interesting from a writing standpoint, and we’re all fans of the show who write the show, it wasn’t interesting from an audience standpoint; it felt a little overly clever, a little constructed. But we do it just enough that we can get she's part of the team, but she doesn't buy into Nate’s bullshit, and as a result her actions in the finale make some sort of organic sense. And the van, oh, the van.

Marc: Gotta have the van.

John: Not anymore.

[Laughter]

Marc: Well-

John: No the- and this, again, we had like four variations how this particular con worked. Who did those designs? Who did-? We have a lot of actual fashion designs floating around in this.

Marc: I think Nadine.

Albert: Nadine and her team did pretty much everything.

John: They sketched them up and sent them off to Derek to do the computer graphics.

Albert: They did the sketches, they did the buckles sketches, they designed the clothes. Like I said, this was a real- this was a field day for the wardrobe and makeup and hair.

Marc: For the glam department.

John: That was nice, too. Cause the thing we originally missed, that having him hand him the badge, it’s a nice touch. Again, the trick when you’re doing- Some of the endings we stop and explain a lot, some just kind of unroll, and you have to make sure you set up all the pieces. And a lot of times when you're running and gunning and shooting, that stuff goes away.

Marc: It does. And so much of it is like, you get to a certain scene like, oh my god, in the flashback you're supposed to see that happens later.

John: Do you break those off separately when you shoot these or-? I mean, I know you, kind of, barely read the script.

Marc: A lot of times they are within the scenes and god bless Suzanne, our script supervisor, she just, she-

John: She's the best. She's actually the best I've  ever worked with.

Marc: She's the gatekeeper, yeah, she’s amazing. 

John: A Script Supervisor’s job, in case you don't know, if you're watching, is to sit next to the Director with a copy of the script, with special notations that they go to school to learn, to track what is in every shot, what the angles are, what the sizes are, who’s crossing, who’s walking in from what direction.

Marc: She's basically- she's keeping score and she’s the directors best friend, or worst enemy.

John: You will hear a lot of directors, even really experienced directors say-

Marc: As well as an editor, because, you know, an editor just gets a hard drive of footage, and if he can't decipher her notes, then he's gonna struggle as well.

John: I've seen really experienced directors, guys who are famous, they will finish and will turn to their script supervisor and go ‘What do I need?’ Cause they're watching the coverage while the directors watching the-

Marc: And we do a lot of different things and as a director, you're watching performances, and you're making sure you're hitting all the right emotional beats, and you know, when we do certain scenes where we have multiple characters, or you’re doing a 360-

John: We have a five-hander here.

Marc: Yeah, or doing a 360 and the camera’s going around and around, you need someone to be keeping score for you.

John: I like the physicality, by the way, watching this again, of watching Tim does with his face when he’s with the character and when he's just dropped it, and all of a sudden that kind of fake character, the wardrobe doesn't matter if he's just pissed, and you know he's dug in.

Marc: As soon as he's pulled off the glasses-

John: It's Nate.

Marc: It's Nate. 

John: Great job.

Marc: And we haven't even had him say that, when Tom, later on, you know, points that out, you're not even who you say you are, he, like, looks at him in a certain way.

John: Yeah. No, nice call. The- oh yes, this was, again, interesting, is one of the things that really depends on the speed with which these guys can rip this stuff off. You know, in one of the original versions we were talking about where the dresses are actually transported- right after the fashion show, the dresses actually are driven across town and are put in a private closed viewing for the buyers. They won’t let anybody else close to those dresses because even with photographs, they can be knocked off within a matter of 48-72 hours. Which is stunning, which is what you're trying to fight when you're trying to fight piracy. And hung by his own sin, which is one of the rules.

Albert: There's always a rule. Yup. Going back to the wardrobe and hair and makeup departments, the other thing you don't end up seeing is that they went through a lot of their own iterations of what- before what you see on the screen. They did a lot of tests, they did a lot of different looks. If we had time, we could probably show all these other test photos they took, and different hair configurations, and make up, and at one point they did this whole sort of Kabuki look, but we decided that might've been a little too fashion forward for this show. They really went all out.

Marc: They went all out.

John: Did you say fashion forward?

Albert: Sure.

Marc: And some of them were just based on the element of time, you know, we wouldn't have time to change actors over to a certain style, and-

John: Yeah, cause I mean, that's the thing, is when the difference between shooting Parker as Parker, and shooting Parker as Parker as fashion model, is two hours to change that character's look.

Albert: At least.

John: At least. And the walk of victory.

Marc: Dun dun dunnn.

John: This is nice, this is- I, you know, I always love the 60s, 70s call back; it's a nice style choice. Also, you've got that great street to shoot down. Where was that? Was that outside of-?

Marc: That was right outside of the actual warehouse location.

Albert: Across the river.

Marc: Just across the river from downtown Portland, so it was really close; you know, had a nice overpass.

John: Looked like that section of T that’s elevated.

Marc: This, again, is supposed to be in Asia, which was actually just another area of the warehouse again.

John: And then that's a kind of an iconic shot for this show now. That's nice, the Jeri Ryan era, as the fans call it. If you go on the boards and see the fans arguing over which six episodes are the best in the giant ouvre of Leverage ouvre. And she pays a horrible horrible price for her treachery.

Albert: Those are real working steam presses, and I can tell you from having been there, they were ridiculously hot. 

[Laughter]

Albert: I didn't want to be anywhere near it. I was like, ‘Wow, Gloria is really a trooper going through this.’ She had to learn how to operate it; it had, like, foot petals and things.

John: This is why it's good to be a writer, is, we write horrible things and then the directors and actors go live there, while we occasionally- Sometimes we venture from the hotel room to go visit the set.

Marc: At times.

John: But it's for the best if the writer isn't there; just causes trouble.

Albert: We can go pose and take pictures with the models; that's when we show up on set.

John: Yes. And then this is actually based on, there's a bunch of factories now that are owned by the employees that were taken over. Some car factories, some- there was a big thing in South America for a while of the workers seizing foreclosed factories and opening them up as co-ops.

Marc: I did not know that.

John: Yes, there you go. Anything we can do to undermine the infrastructure of capitalism of America in Leverage we try to, we try to.

Marc: Now this is a happier factory, it's brighter.

John: Brighter colors.

Marc: Yeah, it's brighter colors, there's sound.

[Laughter]

John: I love that. I love you sitting in the director’s chair like, ‘Alright, now make it the happy sweatshop.’

Marc: How else can we make them happy?

John: Lunch breaks.

Marc: Lunch breaks! Sandwiches. Sandwiches make everyone happy. Everybody’s happy with a sandwich.

John: There you go, and milk, that's delicious. Look, and we saw that particular extra was unhappy earlier.

Albert: That's right.

Marc: She was.

John: There you go; really sold it. And again, it's interesting because, you know, you shot two years of this now, and you understand the vics aren't a big part of actual screen time, they are on in the opening, they're on in the closing. Those actors are insanely important, because it means you have to like them really fast, and if you don't like them really fast, you know, it won’t pay off.

Marc: Yeah, and they have to keep up because, you know, it's not like we get a lot of time to do rehearsals, and so some of the crux of the episode can be in their hands.

Albert: Oh yeah, the emotional core of the story always hinges on the victims and their choices.

John: And sometimes those scenes with Tim Hutton in the bar, that's the entire reason you're gonna care about this episode. And this is a lot of fun with- this is when we- again, we really track, if you watch the back six episodes where Tara Cole feels in how she's getting the money. Happy about getting the money, ambivalent about getting the money, not caring so much, you know. She never doesn't care, cause that's just wrong. And now, it's interesting, Tim and I had a nice conversation about this particular phone call, cause he called me about this and he's like, ‘I'm not sure where we're going with this.’ I'm like, ‘You know that moment when you've had an argument with the wife and you've realized you've said the wrong thing and you can never take it back?’ And he's like, ‘Oh yeah.’ and I'm like, ‘That one right there.’ And it's one of my favorite little Nate/Sophie scenes and they're not even in the same room. Because it's, you know, it's- banter is fun, relationships are hard.

Marc: Right.

Albert: Oh I like that. Banter is fun, relationships are hard. 

John: And, you know, end of day, unless you show a couple of these scenes every now and then, you don't buy these relationships as real. And that's why I think one of the reasons the Eliot/Nate relationship feels very grounded is, we give opportunity for Chris Kane and Tim to kind of dig in on the fact that they don't always agree, those characters.

Albert: And you gotta give somewhere for the characters to go. That's the thing about a scene like this, at the end it gives them somewhere to go after here.

John: That was great. Thank you so much, guys, that was a lot of fun. The episode was fantastic.

Albert: That was The Runway Job.

Marc: Thank you.

John: Anything you wanna say to the nice folks before we move onto the next one?

Marc: Stay tuned.

[Laughter]

John: It's a DVD, I don't think they’re gonna wander off-

Marc: For the season.

John: Oh for another season, that's right. Season 3. Albert anything you wanna say?

Albert: No this was great, this was, I think, my third episode working with Marc. Third, that I'd written. Kind of fourth.

John: Kind of codependent.

Marc: Yes, yes.

Albert: We are, but I've learned that one thing: banter is fun, but relationships are hard, so we gotta keep working on it.

Marc: That’s right.

[snelbz]

What Happens In Vegas... {3}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz​ / @tacmc​ collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

I felt like I had just fallen asleep when someone began hammering on my door.

“Feyre? Are you in there?” The knob shook and it sounded like whoever it was was trying to get in. I’d locked it after the incident with Rhys, just in case he wanted to come back and finish the fight we’d started.

I blinked and sat up, looking around the room, bleary eyed. The last time I had looked at the clock, it was 4:17. It had taken me hours to fall asleep, with the loud music below and the knowledge that Rhys was probably giving Belly Chain the night I should have gotten in Vegas.

Another knock had me climbing across the huge bed and hurrying for the door, but as I reached it, I realized I wore nothing but Rhysand’s shirt he’d left in Vegas. Whatever he’d washed it with, it didn’t smell of puke. The man had some serious laundry skills. Aside from my ruined dress and a couple of other tops, it was all I had with me, so it would have to do.

I reached the door and asked, “Who is it?”

“Amarantha. I’m Rhysand’s PA.”

I cracked open the door and peered out. The elegant redhead from last night stared back at me, unimpressed. From being made to wait or the sight of my bed hair, I didn’t know. Did everyone in this house look like they’d just slunk off the cover of a magazine? Her eyes turned into slits at the sight of Rhys’ shirt.

“His representatives are here to meet with you. You might want to get your ass into gear.” The woman spun on her heel and strode off down the hallway, heels clacking furiously against the terra-cotta tiled floor.

I hesitated, watching her disappear around the corner before closing the door behind me. I slumped back against it with a groan before stumbling into the adjoining bathroom. After a look in the mirror, and a cringe, I decided that a shower was definitely necessary. 

The shower was amazing.

The cost of the bathroom alone was probably equivalent to everything I owned. I quickly washed my hair and scrubbed my skin, and I was letting myself out. After brushing through my hair and putting on the same clothes I felt like I had been wearing for years at this point, I was wandering into the hallway.

Amarantha hadn’t told me where they were waiting for me, and in a house this big, I wasn’t excited about looking for the right room. When I walked down the staircase, though, there was a group of men in suits, and I figured that I wouldn’t have to look too long.

“Feyre?”

I nodded, my reality settling in around me. I was about to get divorced. Divorced at twenty-one. What a fucking dream. 

“Follow me.”

Me. Although there were four of them in the group, he was clearly in charge. He was probably a few years younger than my dad, clearly full of himself, and obviously rich as hell. His suit was pristine, designer, his hair luscious and just trimmed and styled. 

“My name is Darren Hybern,” he said. “The band’s manager.”

I noticed he didn’t offer to shake my hand. “Feyre. Sorry I’m late.”

He smiled and his teeth were too white, too perfect. “It’s fine, not a problem at all.” His tone suggested differently.

He led us to a room by the front door, an office of sorts. There was a large table, the likes of which I’d only seen in boardrooms and interview scenes on tv and in movies. He gestured to the men, who’d sat down on one side of the table, a show of power in their impressive, immaculate suits. “Gentlemen, this is Ms. Archeron,” Hybern announced. “Jeffrey Baker, Bill Preston, and Ted Clark are Rhysand’s legal representatives. Why don’t you sit here, Feyre?”

He spoke slowly, as if I were a feeble-minded child. He pulled a chair out from the table for me directly opposite the team of legal eagles, then walked around to sit on their side. Wow, that sure told me. The lines had been drawn.

I rubbed my sweaty palms on the sides of my jeans and sat up straight, doing my best not to wilt beneath their hostile gazes. I could definitely do this. How hard could it be to get a divorce, after all?

“Ms. Archeron,” the one Hybern had identified as Ted started. He pushed a black leather folder full of papers toward me. “Mr. Lunasa asked us to draw up annulment papers. They’ll cover all issues, including details of your settlement from Mr. Lunasa.”

The size of the stack of papers before me was daunting. These people worked fast. “My settlement?”

“Yes,” Ted said. “Rest assured, Mr. Lunasa has been very generous.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry. Wha—.”

“We’ll deal with that last,” Ted rushed on. “You’ll notice here that the document covers all conditions to be met by yourself. The main issues include your not speaking to any member of the press with regard to this matter. This is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. This condition remains in force until your death. Do you fully understand the requirement, Ms. Archeron? Under no circumstances may you talk to any member of the press regarding Mr. Lunasa in any way while you’re alive.”

“So I can talk to them after I die?” I asked with a weak little laugh. Ted was getting on my nerves. I guess I hadn’t gotten enough sleep after all.”

Ted bared his teeth. They weren’t nearly as impressive as Hybern’s. “This is a very serious matter, Ms. Archeron.”

“Feyre,” I said. “My name is Feyre, and I do realize the seriousness of this issue, Ted. I apologize for being flippant. But if we could get back to the part about the settlement? I’m a little confused.”

“Very well.” Ted looked down his nose at me and tapped a thick, gold pen on the paperwork in front of me. “As I said, Mr. Lunasa has been very generous.”

“No,” I said, not looking at the papers, “you don’t understand.”

Ted cleared his throat and looked down at me over the top of his glasses. “It would be unwise of you to try and press for more given the circumstances, Ms. Archeron. A six-hour marriage in Las Vegas entered into while you were both heavily under the influence of alcohol? Textbook grounds for annulment.”

Ted’s cronies tittered and I felt my face fire up. My need to accidentally kick the prick under the table grew and grew.

“My client will not be making another offer.”

“I don’t want him to make another offer,” I said, my voice rising.

“The annulment will go ahead, Ms. Archeron,” said Ted. “There is no question of that. There will be no reconciliation.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

Ted sighed. “We need to finalize this today, Ms. Archeron.”

“I’m not trying to hold anything up, Ted.”

The other two lawyers watched me with distaste, backing up Ted with sleazy, knowing smiles. Nothing pissed me off faster than a bunch of people trying to intimidate someone.

Hybern gave me a big-toothed, faux-fatherly grin. “I’m sure Feyre can see how kind Rhys is being. There aren’t going to be any delays here, are there?”

These people, they blew my mind. Speaking of which, I had to wonder where my darling husband was. Too busy banging bikini models to turn up to his own divorce, the poor guy. I ran my fingers through my wet hair, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Trying to get my anger managed. “Wait—.”

“We all just want what’s best for you given the unfortunate situation,” Hybern continued, obviously lying through his big, bright teeth.

“Great,” I said, fingers fidgeting beneath the table. “That’s … that’s really great of you.”

“Please, Ms. Archeron.” Ted tapped his pen imperiously alongside a figure on the paperwork and I dutifully looked, though I didn’t want to.

There were lots of zeros. I mean, really a lot. It was insane. In two lifetimes I couldn’t earn that kind of money. Rhys must have wanted me gone something fierce. My stomach rumbled nervously but my puking days were over. The whole scene felt horrific, like something out of a bad movie or soap opera. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks hijacks the hot, rich guy and tricks him into marriage. Now all that was left was for him to use his people to chase me off into the sunset.

Well, he won.

“This was all just a mistake,” said Hybern. “I’m sure Feyre is every bit as keen to put it behind her as Rhys is. And with this generous financial settlement, she can move forward to a bright future.”

“You’ll also never attempt to make contact with Mr. Lunasa ever again, in any manner. Any attempt on your part to do so will see you in breach of contract.” Ted withdrew his pen, sitting back in his seat with a false smile and his hands crossed over his belly. “Is that clear?”

“No,” I said, scrubbing my face with my hands.

They actually thought I’d fall over myself to get that money. Money I’d done nothing to earn, no matter how tempting accepting it was. Of course, they also thought I’d sell my story to the press and harass Rhys every spare moment I got for the rest of my life. They thought I was cheap, trashy scum. “I think I can honestly say that nothing about this is clear.”

“Feyre, please.” Hybern gave me a disappointed look. “Let’s be reasonable.”

“I’ll tell you what…” I stood and retrieved the ring from my jeans pocket, tossing it onto the sea of paperwork. “You give this back to Rhys and tell him I don’t want any of it. None of this.” I gestured at them, the table, the papers, and the entire damn house. The lawyers looked nervously among themselves as if they’d need more paperwork before they could allow me to go waving my arms about in such a disorderly fashion.

“Feyre…”

“I don’t want to sell his story, or stalk him, or whatever else you have buried in subclause 98.2. I don’t want his money.”

Hybern coughed out a laugh. Fuck him. The phony bastard could think what he liked.

Ted frowned at my big sparkly ring lying innocently among the mess. “Mr. Lunasa didn’t mention a ring.”

“No? Well. Why don’t you tell Mr. Lunasa he can shove it wherever he feels it might best fit, Ted.”

“Ms. Archeron!” Ted stood, his puffy face outraged. “That is unnecessary.”

“Going to have to disagree with you there, Ted.” I bolted out of the dining room of death and made straight for the front door as fast as my feet could carry me. Immediate escape was the only answer. If I could just get the hell away from them long enough to catch my breath, I could come up with a new plan to deal with this ridiculous situation. I’d be fine.

A brand new black pickup truck pulled up as I tore down the front steps.

The window lowered to show my guide from last night, Cass, sitting in the driver’s seat. He smirked from behind black sunglasses, his hair tied at the back of his head. “Hey there, child bride.”

I threw a vulgar gesture in his direction and jogged down the long, winding driveway toward the front gates. Toward liberty and freedom and my old life, or whatever remained of it. If only I’d never gone to Vegas. If only I’d tried harder to convince Joey that a party at home would be fine, none of this would have happened. Gods, I was such an idiot. Why had I drunk so much?

“Feyre! Hold up.” Cass pulled up alongside me in his truck. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer. I was done with all of them. That and I had the worst feeling I was about to cry, damn it. My eyes felt hot, horrible.

“Stop.” He pulled the brake and climbed out of the truck, running after me. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

I said nothing. I had nothing to say to any of them.

His hand wrapped around my arm gently, but I didn’t care. I swung at him. I’d never hit anyone in my life. Apparently, I wasn’t about to start now. He dodged my flying fist with ease.

“Whoa! Okay.” Cass danced back a step, giving me a wary look over the top of his shades. “You’re mad. I get it.”

Hands on hips, he looked back toward the house. Ted and Hybern stood on the front steps, staring after us. Even from this distance the dynamic duo did not appear happy. Evil bastards.

Cass hissed out a breath. “You’re fucking joking. He sicced that ball sucker Ted onto you?”

I nodded, blinking, trying to get myself under control.

“Did you have anyone with you?” he asked.

“No.”

He cocked his head. “Are you going to cry?”

“No!”

“Fuck. Come on.” He held out his hand to me and I stared at it in disbelief. “Feyre, think. There are photographers and shit waiting out front. Even if you get past them, where are you going to go?”

He was right. I had to go back, get my bag. So stupid of me not to have thought of it. Just as soon as I had myself under control I’d go in and retrieve it, then get the hell out of here. I fanned my face with my hands, took a big breath. All good.

Meanwhile, his hand hovered, waiting. There were a couple of small blisters on it, situated in the join between thumb and finger. Curious.

“Are you the drummer?” I asked with a sniff.

For some reason he cracked up laughing, almost doubling over, clutching at his belly. Maybe he was on drugs or something. Or maybe he was just one more lunatic in this gigantic asylum. Batman would have had a hard time keeping this place in check.

“What is your problem?” I asked, taking a step away from him. Just in case.

His snazzy sunglasses fell off, clattering on the asphalt. He swiped them up and shoved them back on his face.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a house at the beach. We’ll hide out there. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

I hesitated, giving the jerks on the front steps a lethal look. “Why would you help me?”

“Because you’re worth helping.”

“Oh, really? Why would you think that?”

“You wouldn’t like my answer.”

“I haven’t liked a single answer I’ve had all morning, why stop now?”

He smiled. “Fair enough. I’m one of Rhysand’s oldest friends. We’ve gotten drunk and out of control more times than I can remember. He’s had girls angling to snare him for years, even before we had money. He never was the slightest bit interested in marriage. It was never even on his radar before. So the fact that he married you, well, that suggests to me you’re worth helping. Come on, Feyre. Stop worrying.”

Easy for him to say, his life hadn’t been skewered by a rock star.

“I need to get my stuff.”

“And get cornered by them? Worry about it later.” He held his hand out, fingers beckoning for mine. “Let’s get out of here.”

I put my hand in his and we went.

—————————

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the beach house we pulled up to wasn’t it. It was right on the water, the house lining the sand. It wasn’t as massive as the mansion we were just at, but it was pretty big. Much bigger than my parents’ house, anyways.

“What do you think?” Cassian asked, putting his car in drive in the driveway.

“It’s….nice,” I answered, at last, unsure of how to judge a house strictly from the outside. 

“Nice?” Cassian laughed. “This is my favorite place in the world...and you tell me that it’s nice?”

I laughed, purely because of his exasperated expression. “Well, I have to see the inside first.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged before helping himself out then walked up to the front door. I stayed close behind, afraid that the paparazzi would be hanging just around the corner. 

The inside was much more marvelous than the outside. It was simple but sleek and modern. Plenty of space surrounded me, and between that and the beach just outside the backdoor, I was growing calmer by the second.

As I admired the line of instruments lining the walls, I asked, “How many instruments can you actually play?” 

Cassian shrugged. “A few.”

I snorted. “Right.”

“What kind of music do you like?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

I shrugged. “A little bit of everything, mostly country.”

He groaned. “That’s, like, worst case music to like being married to a rock star. Do you even like hardcore?”

The smile I gave him as I walked into his living room was pained. “Sorry.”

Cassian’s house was clearly a bachelor pad/den of iniquity. I’d had a vague notion to make lunch to thank him for taking me in, but there wasn’t a single speck of food in the house. Beer filled the fridge and vodka the freezer. Oh, no, there was a bag of oranges used as wedges to go with shots of vodka, apparently. He’d ruled out touching those. Coffee, however, was something they both agreed was essential. After drinking three cups in the space of an hour, I felt a lot more like my old well-planned, caffeinated self.

Cass dialed for pizza and we watched TV late into the night. Mostly he found his joy in mocking my taste in pretty much everything: movies, music, the lot. At least he did it good-naturedly. We couldn’t go outside because a couple of photographers were waiting on the beach. I felt bad about it but he’d just shrugged it off.

This is my everyday life. It’s nothing new to me.

He paused on the country music channel as we were eating our pizza.

“What about this song?” he asked. “You like this?”

Miranda Lambert strode on screen in a cool ’50s frock and I grinned. “Miranda is a badass.”

“I’ve met her.”

I sat up straight. “Really?”

He chuckled. “You’re impressed I’ve met Miranda Lambert but you didn’t even know who I was. Honestly, woman, you are hard on the ego.”

“I saw the gold and platinum records lining the hallway, buddy. I’m thinking you can take it.”

He snorted. “Can’t you at least pretend to worship me?”

I bite into another slice of pizza. “Nope. Sorry.”

With a scoff, Cassian began to surf through the channels. Football, home shopping, Jeopardy!, and me. My face on tv.

“Wait,” I said.

He groaned. “Not a good idea.”

“No, just…” I held up a hand, and that seemed to have do it. He didn’t change the channel anymore, but I was fully aware that he was watching me.

The reporter showed up on the screen, talking about everything and nothing in between. I couldn’t help but try and grasp the concept of what she was saying, although the words really didn’t sink in. 

“Rhysand Lunasa’s new wife-.”

“Is that all I’m going to be seen as from now on?” I muttered, not really sure if I said it outloud or not. “Rhysand Lunasa’s new wife?”

Cassian didn’t respond. Or, maybe he did and I just didn’t hear him. The footage of me at the airport streamed across the screen and I frowned. I looked so scared, so off guard, so nervous. And I was, that wasn’t the point, but I figured the first time I would ever be on t.v. would be because of a great accomplishment, not because I was accidentally married to a rockstar. 

Cassian rested a hand on my shoulder and I looked at him. “Rhys is the favorite, darlin’. He’s pretty, plays guitar, and writes the songs. Girlies faint when he walks by. Team that with your being a young ’un and you’ve got the news of the week.”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“And he’s twenty-six. It’s enough of a difference if they hype it just right.” Cass sighed. “Face it, child bride. You got married in Vegas by an Elvis impersonator to one of rock ’n’ roll’s favorite sons. It was always bound to cause a shitstorm. Given there’s also been some crap going on with the band lately… What with Tamlin partying like it’s 1999 and Rhys losing his music-writing mojo. Well, you get the picture. But next week, someone else will do something wacky and all the attention will move on.”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

“I know so. People are constantly fucking up. It’s a glorious thing.” He sat back and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Now smile for Uncle Cass, cause like I said, this will all blow over in a week or so. You know you want to.”

I smiled halfheartedly.

“That’s a bullshit smile and I’m ashamed of you. You’re not going to fool anyone with that. Try again.”

I tried harder, smiling till my cheeks hurt.

“Damn. Now you just look like you’re in pain.”

Banging on the front door interrupted our merriment.

Cass raised his brows at me. “Wondered how long he’d take.”

“What?” I trailed him to the front door, lurking behind a divider just in case it was more press.

He opened the door and Rhys charged in, face tight and furious.

“You piece of shit. You better not have touched her. Where is she?”

“The child bride is otherwise occupied.” Cass cocked his head, taking Rhys in with a cool glance. “Why the fuck do you even care?”

“Don’t start with me. Where is she?”

Calmly, Cassian shut the door and turned to face his friend. I hesitated, hanging back around the corner.

Cass crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You left her to face Hybern and three lawyers on her own. You, my friend, are most definitely the piece of shit in this particular scenario.”

“I didn’t know Darren would go at her with all that.”

“You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know,” said Cass . “Lie to everyone else out there, Rhys. Not me. And sure as fuck not to yourself.”

“Back off.”

Cassian sighed. “You need some serious life advice, friend.”

“Who are you, Oprah?”

Coughing out a laugh, Cass slumped against the wall. “Hell, yeah. Soon I’m gonna be giving out cars, so stick around.”

“What did she say?”

“Who, Oprah?” 

Rhysand just scowled at him. He didn’t even notice me spying. Sad to say, even a scowling Rhys was a thing of rare beauty. He did things to me. Complicated things. My heart tripped about in my chest. The anger and emotion in his voice couldn’t be concern for me. That made no sense, not after last night and this morning. I had to be projecting, and it sucked that I even wanted him to care. My head made no sense. Getting away from this guy was the safest option all round. “Rhys, she was so upset she took a swing at me.

“Bullshit.”

“I kid you not. She was nearly in tears when I found her,” said Cass.

I banged my forehead in silent agony against the wall. Why the hell did Cassian have to tell him that?

My husband hung his head. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Seems you didn’t mean for a shitload to happen.” Cass shook his head and tutted. “Did you even mean to marry her, dude? Seriously?”

Rhysand’s face screwed up, his brow doing the wrinkly James Dean thing again. “I don’t know anymore, okay? Fuck. I went to Vegas because I was so sick of all this shit, and I met her. She was different. She seemed different that night. I just… I wanted something outside of all this fucking idiocy for a change.”

Cassian pouted. “Poor Rhysie. Did being a rock god get old?”

“Where is she?”

“I feel your pain, bro. Really, I do. I mean, all you wanted was a girl who wouldn’t kiss your ass for once and now you’re pissed at her for the same damn reason. It’s complicated, right?”

“Fuck you. Leave it alone, Cass. It’s done.” My husband huffed out a breath. “Anyway, she’s the one who wanted the fucking divorce. Why aren’t you giving her the third degree, huh?”

With a dramatic sigh, Cass gestured towards me. “Because she’s really busy hiding around the corner, listening. I can’t disturb her now.”

Rhysand’s body stilled and his blue eyes found me. “Feyre.”

Huh. Busted.

I stepped away from the wall and tried to put on a happy face. It didn’t work. “Hi.”

“She says that so well.” Cass turned to me and winked. “So did you really ask the mighty Rhysand Lunasa for a divorce?”

“She threw up on me when I told her we were married,” my husband reported.

“What?” Cass dissolved into laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. “Are you serious? Fucking hell, that is fantastic. Oh, man, I wish I’d been there.”

I gave Rhys what I hoped to be the meanest look in all of time and space. He stared back, unimpressed.

“It was the floor,” I clarified. “I didn’t throw up on him.”

“That time,” said Rhys.

“Please keep going,” said Cass, laughing harder than ever. “This just gets better and better.”

Rhys didn’t. Thank God.

“Seriously, I fucking love your wife, man. She’s awesome. Can I have her?”

The look I got from Rhys spoke of a much more reluctant affection. With the line between his brows, it was closer to outright irritation. I blew him a kiss. He looked away, hands fisted like he was barely holding himself back from throttling me. The feeling was entirely mutual.

Ah, marital bliss.

“You two are just the best.” A chiming sound came from Cassian’s pocket and he pulled out a cell phone. Whatever he saw on the screen stopped his laughter dead. “You know, you should take her to your house,man.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rhysand’s mouth pulled wide in a truly pained expression. I didn’t think it was a good idea either. I’d happily go through life without setting foot inside the house of horrors ever again. Maybe if I asked Cassian nicely he’d fetch my stuff for me. Imposing on him further didn’t appeal, but I was running low on options.

“Whoa.” With a grim face, Cass shoved his cell at Rhys. 

“Fuck,” Rhys mumbled. He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and squeezed. The worried glance he gave me from beneath his dark brows set every alarm ringing inside my head. Whatever was on that screen was bad. Really bad.

“What is it?” I asked. “Oh, you, ah… you don’t need to worry about it.” His gaze dropped to the phone again, then he passed it back to Cass. “My place would be cool, actually. We should do that. Fun. Yeah.”

“No.” For Rhysand to be so nice to me it had to be something truly bad. I held out my hand, fingers twitching from impatience or nerves or a bit of both. “Show me.”

Rhysand didn’t budge. “It’s not important.”

“Show me,” I snapped.

Cassian frowned as he looked at Rhysand. Rhys, on the other hand, was staring daggers at his bandmate, his friend. 

He handed the phone to me.

My cheeks instantly heated as I glanced down at the picture on Cassian’s phone, the picture that was all over the web. 

I was looking at a picture of the tattoo of Rhysand’s name on my ass, a picture that I didn’t even know had been taken. 

I tensed, my heart falling into my stomach. It couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. I had no idea how it had happened, and the thought of a picture of my asscheek ending up all over the internet had me ready to puke.

“Excuse me,” I breathed, shoving the phone into Cassian’s chest. The second he took it, I was hauling ass down the hallway, into the bathroom, where I slammed the door shut behind me.

I locked it and sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi, trying to slow my breathing, trying to be calm. There was nothing I could do. The picture was already out there. This was no death and dismemberment. It was a stupid picture of me in a compromising position showing more skin than I liked. But so what? Big deal. Accept it and move on. Despite the fact that everyone I knew would likely see it. Worse things had happened in the history of the world. I just needed to put it in context and stay calm.

“Feyre?” Rhys tapped lightly on the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” No. Not really.

“Let me in?” I gave the door a pained look. “Please.”

Slowly, I stood and flicked the lock. Rhysand wandered in and shut the door behind him. No slicked back, styled hair today. His dark hair hung down, framing his face on one side. He had three small silver earrings in one ear playing peekaboo behind his hair. I stared at them because meeting his eyes was out of the question. I was not going to cry. Not about this. What the hell was even wrong with my eyes lately? Letting him in had been dumb.

With a heavy frown he stared down at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it is. I should have looked after you better.”

“No, Rhys.” I swallowed hard. “We were both drunk. God, this is all so horrifically, embarrassingly stupid.”

He just stared at me.

“Sorry.”

“Hey, you’re allowed to be upset. That was a private moment. It shouldn’t be out there. We were in a private room. This should never have happened, but people get offered a lot of money for this sort of thing.”

I nodded, knowing this sort of thing happened to them all the time. He must have thought I was having a meltdown for no reason. “Can I… can I see it again?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Not really.” I chuckled, but there was no humor in the words. They sounded slightly unhinged.

Rhys handed me his phone regardless.

The image I was looking at this time was a different angle, more zoomed out, but there could be no doubting what it was, even on the small screen. There was a lot of skin on account of my being bare from the waist down. My naked butt sat front and center in all its pale glory. The party dress had been pushed up and I stood, bent over a table while a tattoo artist worked hard inking my rear. My panties had been cinched down, barely covering the basics.

At the other end of the frame, our faces were close together and Rhysand was smiling. Huh. So that was what he looked like when he smiled

I remembered it then, the buzz of the needle, and him talking to me, holding my hands. At first, that needle had stung. “You were pretending to bite my fingers. The tattoo artist got mad at us for messing around.”

Rhys tipped his chin. “Yeah. You were supposed to be keeping still.”

I nodded, trying to remember more but coming up empty.

I blinked, trying my damndest to keep my chin from wobbling but I knew I was about to have another round of tears. “Rhys, I- I’d really like to be alone for a few minutes…”

He made a growly noise and suddenly his arms wrapped around me, pulling me in against him. He caught me off guard and I stumbled, my nose bumping into his chest. It hurt. But he smelled good. Clean, male, and good. Familiar. Some part of me remembered being this close to him and it was comforting. Something in my mind said “safe.” But I couldn’t remember how or why.

A hand moved restlessly over my back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “so fucking sorry.”

The kindness was too much. Stupid tears flowed.

“I’d hardly even shown anyone my ass and now it’s all over the Internet.”

“I know, baby.” He rested his head against the top of mine, holding on tight as I blubbered into his T-shirt. Having someone to hold on to helped. It would be okay. Deep down I knew it would be. But right then I couldn’t see my way clear. Standing there with his arms around me felt right.

I don’t know when we started swaying. Rhys rocked me gently from side to side as if we were dancing to some slow song. The overwhelming temptation to stay like that with my face pressed into his shirt was what made me step back, pull myself together. His hands sat lightly on my hips, the connection not quite broken.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Of course.” The front of his shirt had a damp patch, thanks to me.

“Your shirt’s all wet.”

He shrugged.

I ugly-cried. It was a gift of mine. The mirror confirmed it, demon-red eyes and flushed fluoro-pink cheeks. With an awkward smile I stepped away from him, and his hands fell back to his sides. I splashed my face with water and dried it on a towel while he stood idly by, frowning.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said.

“Really?” I gave him a dubious look. Rhysand and me alone? Given the marriage situation and our previous sober encounters, it didn’t seem the wisest plan.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together, getting all enthused. “Just you and me. We’ll get out of here for a while.”

“Rhys, like you said out there, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You want to stay in LA?” he scoffed.

“Look, you’ve been really sweet since you stepped through that door. Well, apart from telling Cass about me puking on you. That was unnecessary. But in the preceding twenty-four hours you dumped me alone in a room, went off with a groupie, accused me of trying to get it on with your bandmate, and sicced your posse of lawyers onto me.”

He said nothing.

“Not that you going off with a groupie is any of my business. Of course.”

He turned on his heel and paced to the other end of the bathroom, his movements tight, angry. Despite it being five times the size of the one back home, it still didn’t leave enough room for a showdown like this. And he was between me and the door. Because suddenly exiting seemed like a smart move.

“I just asked them to sort out the paperwork,” he said.

“And they sure did.” I put my hands on my hips, standing my ground. “I don’t want any of your money.”

“I heard.” His face was carefully blank. My statement prompted in him none of the disbelief or mockery it had in the suited bullies. Lucky for him. I doubt he believed me, but at least he was willing to pretend. “They’re drawing up new papers.”

“Good.” I stared him down. “You don’t have to pay me off. Don’t make assumptions like that. If you want to know something, ask. And I was never going to sell the story to the press. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay.” He slumped against the wall, leaning his head back to stare up at nothing. “Sorry,” he told the ceiling. I’m sure the plasterwork appreciated it immensely. When I made no response, his gaze eventually found me. It had to be wrong, or at the very least immoral, to be so pretty. Normal people didn’t stand a chance. My heart took a dive every time I looked at him. No, a dive didn’t cover it. It plummeted.

Where was Joey to tell me I was being melodramatic when I needed her most?

“I’m sorry, Feyre,” he repeated. “I know the last twenty-four hours have been shit. Offering to get out of here for a while was my way of trying to make things better.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And also for coming in here to check on me.”

“No problem.”

He stared at me, eyes unguarded for once. And the honesty in his gaze changed things for me, the brief flash of something more. Sadness or loneliness, I don’t know. A kind of weariness that was there and gone before I could understand. But it left its mark. There was a lot more to this man than a pretty face and a big name. I needed to remember that and not make my own assumptions.

“You really want to go?” I asked. “Really?”

His eyes were bright with amusement. “Why not?”

I gave him a cautious smile.

“We can talk over whatever we need to, just you and me. I need to make a couple of calls, then we’ll head off, okay?”

I nodded. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

With a parting nod, he opened the door and strode back out. He and Cass talked quietly about something in the living room. I took the opportunity to wash my face once more and finger comb my hair.

“Give me the keys to the truck,” said Rhys, squaring off against Cass. 

He winced. “I was joking about giving away cars.”

“Come on. Quit bitching. I rode over on the bike and I don’t have a helmet for her.”

“Fine.” With a sour face, Cassian dropped his car keys into Rhysand’s outstretched hand. “But only ’cause I like your wife. Not a scratch, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhys turned and saw me.

A hint of a smile curled his lips. Except for that first day on the bathroom floor, I’d never seen him smile, never even seen him come close. This bare trace of one made me light up inside. My knees wobbled. That couldn’t be normal. I shouldn’t be feeling all warm and happy just because he was. I couldn’t afford to have any feelings for him at all. Not if I wanted to get out of this in one piece.

“Thanks for putting up with me today, Cass,” I said.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he drawled. “Sure you wanna go with him, child bride? This prick makes you cry. I make you laugh.”

Rhysand’s smile disappeared and he strode to my side. His hand sat lightly against the base of my spine, warm even through the layer of clothing. “We’re out of here.”

Cassian grinned and winked at me.

“Where are we going?” I asked Rhys.

“Does it matter? Let’s just drive.”

[anothertimdrakestan]

Burn (Tim Drake x Reader) angst????

Words: 1.6k

Req: Hello!! May I request Tim x reader angst?? The song “Burn” from Hamilton is stuck in my head so why not put it into context with Tim cheating on reader?? Thanks and bring on the pain..

omg i love this song and im shit at angst but you only get better from trying right??? so lmk how i did i tried lmao hope you enjoy!

You dove into Bart’s chest as the tears began falling. “Just say it’s not true, say I’m wrong. Just say it” you clutched the fabric of his shirt while he stayed silent, his arms rubbing your back. “I- we- we all thought you guys were over I didn’t realize I would’ve said something but he was so secretive” Bart murmured while you let the sobs wrack your body. 

“All the nights he didn’t come home from the tower he was with her?” You began, pushing Bart away while you felt like tearing your hair out. “Every time he left me on read he probably wasn’t even the person I was texting” you continued spitting out the words in such a way that Bart was flinching at your delivery. “And now, when he needs a fucking reason to be out of Gotham he’s on a trip with her? Just leaving me here like it’s nothing? Like everything we had was just a fun little power trip for him?” you were yelling by now. 

“No- I mean yeah, Tim’s an idiot. But maybe it’s not true, maybe you just need to talk to him or something” Bart piped up, your head whipped around. “Yeah? Who am I gonna talk to? Mr. Taking My New Girlfriend On A Getaway Trip? You know he didn’t take me anywhere. Months. I begged for a day together and he was just too busy. He’s not too busy for her though, clearly she’s everything I’m not.” your anger was seeping from you slowly, the realization that every time he told you he was yours he was probably sharing rooms at the tower with her. “god FUCK how long has this been going on? It’s been like a month since he moved in to the tower- dammit! My friends told me this long distance bullshit doesn’t work but ‘oh y/n we’re perfect it’ll be fine! I’ll fly home all the time! We can call every night’ that turned out great didn’t it.” you felt the hot angry tears get replaced with the slow rolling tears that reminded you once again you weren’t good enough to be kept around.

“Do you- maybe- wanna talk to him?” Bart was clearly terrified of you but you appreciated his help. “B, what good is that gonna do? You know Tim as well as- better than me. He’ll give me a shitty excuse that it was ‘for the greater good’ or that I’m ‘just looking at it wrong’ you know he’s better with words than either of us he could run- dammit he has run circles around me like a fucking toy” you had begun scrolling through your phone wondering how many texts got copied and pasted to another text thread with someone he probably cared about more than you.

“So, what are you gonna do then?” Bart had sat next to you on the floor, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while you scrolled through text after text noticing every red flag or lazy text. “Y/n that’s not good to be looking at, you’ve gotta block him or something” Bart whispered, staring at your screen probably reading every message in slow motion. 

“It’s not just the messages I’ll be blocking” you whispered, letting the seething anger slide back in. In what Bart would describe as almost super human speed you began the descent to freedom, blocking, unfollowing, and deleting almost everything that was reminiscent of you and Tim. Then you got to your main instagram account. “Fuck it” you whispered, unfollowing him knowing that tabloids would be starting the smear campaign now. 

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders at an immeasurable price- the price of heartbreak which you’ll be indebted to for a long time. 

~a week later~

“I have really got to buy myself some damn pajamas” you groaned to yourself, pushing down the little lovesick demon in your head that was telling you it was okay to keep sleeping in Tim’s hoodies and sweats because maybe he’ll apologize and you can take him back and be in love again and- not gonna happen. The celebrity magazines had been lurking near your apartment for days now, waiting to hear the newest gossip and find out what truly happened as you’d been radio silent- only adding to the interest of the paparazzi. As you realized you had to go outside today you prepared yourself for the onslaught of questions. 

“Y/N L/N WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU AND MR. DRAKE-WAYNE?” “MISS Y/N WHY THE UNFOLLOW?” “HAVE YOU BEEN SEEING HIS RECENT POSTS? WHO IS THE MYSTERY GIRL?” you cringed at the last question, reminding yourself that his actions didn’t matter as he hadn’t truly been a part of your life for months. 

Before you could get into the black SUV waiting for you, you were stopped and trapped until you spoke into the microphone in front of you. “Anything you can give us on Tim Drake-Wayne and you?” you took a small breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “I’m sorry I simply just don’t know who that is” you smiled between your words, using the confused moment on the questioner’s face to slip into the car and drive off, finally letting you exhale the breath you’d been holding in. 

~two weeks later~

You almost threw up at the sound of a once familiar knock on your door. 

“Y/n, y/n I know you’re here let me in we’ve gotta talk” his voice pleaded from your hallway. After three deep breaths and promises to yourself to stay strong you opened the door. Tim looked normal, it was horrible. You had been fighting to look that normal and were barely holding together but here he was, wearing the shirt he wore the night he told you he loved you with the ever present stern look like nothing had ever gone wrong. He moved to come inside but you blocked his path. “We can talk out here. I don’t have much to say” you hissed, watching him sheepishly back off. “Y/n I just wanted a chance to explain and give my side and-” you cut him off. “Apologize. You’re here to apologize and if you aren’t you’d better leave now” you were screaming and sobbing and melting down internally but you held your composure. 

“Well, yeah, that too. But also we need to issue a public statement because yaknow it’s kinda been going so fast and I think if we could just sit down and work everything out we could stay on better terms because I am so sorry love” you flinched against your own will at the familiar nickname. You took a second to remind yourself that he was again just using his words to get the better of you, you were not going to fall for the same trick twice. “There’s no statement Tim, I’m not clearing your name or coming to your side- hell, I’m going to go work with fucking lexcorp so you won’t even have to worry about seeing me at the office. You and I are separate entities, you broke that relationship when you began the lies and the goddamn cheating, there’s no public statement I’d make that would put you in a better light you’re lucky as hell that this is all I’m saying got it?” you watched him flinch at your words and against all your control you could feel your body begging you to hug him and kiss away the pain like you’d done for months on months. 

“Y/n I want to apologize, I should’ve never- it- it was a lapse in judgement but I want to make it right” Tim pleaded, you watched his facade falter, like he truly felt sorry. “That’s great Tim, I’ll try to remember that when I remember all the nights you said you were stuck at the tower with work when you were with her okay? Sound good? You have a good one okay?” you feigned a smile, shutting the door and crumpling to the ground. 

You let yourself cry silently, burying your head in your hands. Your heart was heavy, it had been learning to beat on it’s own now, not to the beat of Tim’s and it hurt. But it was done? Not really. Not when you’re in the public eye, running a business that would eventually have to work with Wayne Ent. it wouldn’t ever truly be over. Your body was practically turning in on itself, your throat burning as you held in sobs, refusing to let anyone know how deeply this wound would scar. A scar so jagged and deep you feared if would keep your heart permanently broken. 

So how does it end? Because this was supposed to be the closure everyone said you needed. Where you give him a slap in the face for hurting you, telling him to ‘fuck off’ and instantly the pain subsides. But the pain was so intense and raw nothing felt soothing anymore. In a span of weeks you’d lost friends, hell- you’d lost family, and you’d lost love. Because no matter how hard you try to pry the words he said from your brain they creep back in. Nights when he’d call you from the Tower and explain how much he missed you and how perfect you were, days when you got texts about how he missed kissing every inch of your face, memories of the beautiful moments you’d had together that you figured you’d be telling your kids about. Those don’t just die with the relationship. They fester and they boil into your skin, they run through your veins, they flash in your head, reminding you that even when you gave every ounce of love you could muster you still weren’t enough. That’s what will forever stick. So it doesn’t every truly end does it?

Because you can’t burn away scares without leaving a deeper wound. And your wounds were deeper than you could fathom. Your wounds had just simply broken you. 

Tim Drake had broken you. 

So how the fuck do you get fixed?

[myelocin]

the candid photos from amber eyes | kuroo tetsurou

synopsis: in which you find yourself traveling with a group, thinking about the reasons of what it is that makes you love traveling, and meet a photographer with a kind smile whose eyes glowed under the bumps of light on a bus ride home. 

characters: kuroo tetsurou, you

genre: fluff, travel!au

wc: 1400+

a/n: this is req #20 for stories in passing, for @haiikyuuns <3

-

You met Kuroo Tetsurou after answering the tour guide’s question of “what do you like most about traveling?”

This was one of your favorite parts of traveling with a group, you realize. Listening to stories and experiences about the world alike.

“I like to experience culture,” one said, and you noticed it was the younger looking blonde from the front of the group. She seemed to be just staring out. A heavily highlighted bullet journal, a roomy looking backpack, and the telltale DSLR with the extra big lens hanging from her neck.

You smiled; you could recall when you were just starting out and craved to capture the smallest details. Photographs were one of the best souvenirs, after all.

“My favorite part is the documentation,” the boy across you chimes in, raising up his camera with a laugh.

He smiles in a way that had you a little blinded.

“If you want some good photos, feel free to hit me up,” he finishes, smiling when the middle aged ladies standing next to him clapped him on the shoulder, undoubtedly planning to take him up on his offer.

“You okay with me taking random pictures?” he asks the crowd, who nods at his question before he turns to you, his smile still intact.

“And you?”

Shrugging at his question, you offer the expectant gazes a sheepish smile as a response. He didn’t seem to do any harm; plus, you always forgot to take photos during your travels, so you look at him and nod.

“Just make sure you take photos of the pretty stuff,” you laugh.

Across you, he beams. You suppose you’d have to hold him on to his promise as well.

-

It isn’t until a few hours into the guided tour that he takes the seat next to you on the bus ride home and strikes a conversation.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he smiles, holding out his hand for you to shake.

“(y/n),” you reply, shaking his hand.

“So,” he begins. “Has your answer from the question earlier changed at all?”

You stare at him, a little confused by what he meant until you eventually recall the tour guide’s words from earlier. Kuroo doesn’t stare straight at you, but rather right past you. You can tell he’s staring at the passing scenery on the window from the way his fingers hover over the shutter button of his camera that’s shut off.

Smiling to yourself, first, you recall his words. He liked documentation the best, apparently.

So with that thought in mind, you let yourself stare at his profile and begin to ponder.

“What’s your favorite part about traveling?” the question echoes in your mind. And you grin, softly, because you’ve always felt like you had an answer.

But in your case answer was more of a feeling instead of a statement. Traveling was something you’ve personally enjoyed doing—from the struggle of writing itineraries, the experience itself, and most importantly, to the tiny moments of serendipity that comes along the way.

At the same time, it was the people that made you want to seek more edges of the world to walk across. The locals and travelers alike—they made immersing yourself in the foreign sense of normalcy interesting at the very least.

There was something oddly intimate about creating connections with those you know may not be lasting. Then again, that was a case for every connection you’re bound to make in every lifetime—consistency is never promised. But when you travel, meet, then connect—the sense of yearning is only amplified.

You come to a realization that you seeked for that.

So as you stare at Kuroo, a stranger you just met at the tour some hours ago, you think about the question again and again willing yourself to form words for the feelings you know serve as your answer.

“You’re staring,” he laughs, then runs a hand through his hair when his question passes you.

Kuroo knows that look.

He sees it in every candid portrait he takes of every muse that’s caught his eye in the foreign cities he’s traveled to. He describes it as the look you have when you lose yourself in a state of just awe.

He’s well aware he’s had that same look on his face too. At every ancient pillar he’s standing in the presence of, in front of every shrine he’s only ever read about in travel magazines in his youth, and at every epiphany that’s struck and stuck with him over the footprints he leaves across continents.

“You have an answer don’t you?” he asks, and offers you a smile when you mutter a quick apology.

Laughing, you turn to face him instead of the window with the running image of scenery. The light hits him well, you think. The amber in his eyes almost look like solid gold, and it gleams of something unspoken.

So you smile. And almost immediately as the bus turns and the light’s angle changes, you see the words form in your mouth as Kuroo grins with the momentary burst of light that flood in the bus from your side of the window.

“I travel because the people I meet show the most beautiful stories,” you say like you’re exhaling a breath you’ve long held on to.

“Fitting,” Kuroo responds, leaning back to his seat and facing the front.

“So you leaving for home tomorrow?” he asks, breaking the short bit of silence between the two of you.

Nodding at his question, you respond, “Yeah. Packing up tonight. Early flight tomorrow.”

Beside you, he huffs lightly, knocking his shoulder against yours. ”We just met today, we didn’t get to bond enough.”

“See you in the next country, maybe?” you laugh, smiling at him when he laughs at your response.

“That sounds like a line a character says when they break up with someone they meet abroad,” Kuroo comments, laughing.

“I mean, you never know!” you exclaim.

“So I guess I guess after today we should, we should just say goodbye forever?” he says, nodding to himself like he wasn’t directing his question towards you.

“Social media exists,” you chime, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“Ah, is this your way of slyly asking for my contact info?” he teases. “So you can, as the kids say, slide into my DMs?”

You laugh at his choice of words; he seems to be rather proud of them too by the way he’s closing his eyes and nodding to himself.

“You talk like you’re not in your twenties,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Also, I was only going to ask for them because you did say you were going to take pictures. I always forget to take photos when I travel, so I figured since you offered might as well leech off of yours.”

“Is this the feeling of just being used?” Kuroo beside you groans, one hand on his chest in mock sadness.

Moments later, he laughs when you hand him your phone, telling him to save his contact details.

“But seriously,” he starts, after he hands you back your phone.

The bus turns again and the angle is bending the light in the way that hits the amber in his eyes again, and it looks so ethereal that you find yourself subconsciously holding your breath when he locks his eyes with yours.

“If we see each other in another corner of the world, then maybe we could grab dinner or something?” he finishes, grinning.

You smile, feeling a little bold.

“We’ll see.”

-

It isn’t until you’re at the airport early in the morning at 6am sipping a cup of something hot that always does the trick and perks you up for the day where your phone chimes with a message.

Kuroo’s face flashes on the screen and you smile at the message pinned with the attachments of what you could guess were the photos he took. Opening them, you laugh when you notice a huge majority of them were mostly candid shots of you, along with the scenic photos you asked him for.

Not once did you look at the camera too; always just looking somewhere far off. But the expression on your face was the same: one where your mouth was a little parted and your eyes twinkled with something you could only guess was awe.

“I thought I told you to make sure to only take photos of the beautiful stuff,” you text him next to the thank you for the photos.

Kuroo’s text comes in a lot sooner for someone you expected to still be asleep during this hour, but his response has you smiling none the less.

“I did :)”

To him, the candids of you were the most beautiful in his camera roll that day.

[cricketnationrise]

Wouldn’t it be Andoverly?

for day 6 of nurseyweek2021: friendship. also on AO3

_X_

Derek was pretty good at making friends. Usually. But he’d never been the new kid before. Elementary and middle school had been a breeze, his siblings paving the way for him with teachers, and Nursey’s willingness to share crayons worked in elementary school and hockey skills did the trick all through middle school.

Now though, he was all on his own.

His sisters had graduated years ago and Dan had skipped a grade, so he was gone. Derek had been counting on Dan being here more than he was willing to admit to his moms.

If he could just get through this first day of classes, he would be fine. He just had to make it to hockey practice. Derek could handle himself. He could. With a deep breath he left his dorm, ready to face the day. 

WHAM

Or he could just lay here forever.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you okay dude?”

Derek looks up from where he is sprawled on the floor to see a guy with a full mustache leaning over him, concern all over his face.

“Yeah, I think so,” Derek says, managing to sit up, rubbing his head.

“Oh shit, here, let me help you up man.”

Derek takes Mustache Guy’s hand, and is yanked up so powerfully that he almost goes down again.

“Thanks, I’m good now.”

“I really didn’t mean to plow into you like that. I’m glad I didn’t manage to damage your beauteous face. That would have been a real shame.”

“Thanks, I think. Um,” Derek didn’t know if Mustache Guy was hitting on him or just exuberant, so he went on as if the last part hadn’t been said, “Do you know where the Washington Building is?”

“Chyeah! I’m going there myself; we can walk together!”

“Awesome, thanks.”

“So you’re a freshman? Or a transfer? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” Mustache Guy says.

“Yeah,” Derek says, “A freshman.”

“That’s cool, man. You doing any sports? You’ve got serious muscle under that uniform.”

“Um, I play hockey. I got recruited actually.”

“HOLY SHIT DUDE! I’m on the team, too! Welcome, man! Defense, right? Call me Shitty – that’s my team nickname.”

Shitty is off like a shot, jabbering away about the team and how exciting it is that Derek’s there now, already talking about the schedule and fuck those Shattuck guys seriously, bro.

Derek interrupts the flood of information, “Your nickname is Shitty?” Derek asks, “How awful are the guys on the team if that’s your nickname?” he asks, aghast. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Nah, its chill bro, I go by Shitty actually. My family are a giant bag of racist bigoted assholes and if they weren’t paying for me to go here and for college, I wouldn’t go home at all. But the name they gave me is truly awful. My initials are BS. Get it? It’s a giant fuck you to the jerks who tried to make me as conservative as them. Jokes on them, even the teachers call me Shitty, or Mr. Knight if they’re feeling formal. That might be a defense mechanism on their parts though, since I refuse to acknowledge my actual name.”

Derek is feeling cautiously optimistic about this guy after all that. No one who was that aware about his own family would be an asshole to him on purpose. He has a good feeling about this guy.

“Well then, hi Shitty, I’m Derek. Derek Nurse.”

“Oh hey, you must be Dan’s little brother! Good dude,” Derek smiled – at least people had liked Dan, that would help. “It’ll be weird not having him here for graduation. Nice to meet you. I’m gonna call you Nursey unless you have any objections,” Shitty says.

“Nope, I’m good,” Derek grins, “much better than my last nickname.”

“Let me guess, ‘Big D’,” says Shitty.

“Yup. Not a great amount of creativity in my middle school,” Derek says.

“Well, come on Nursey, don’t want you to be late on the first day! I’ll tell you all about the team on the way.”

Derek smiles to himself as he listens to Shitty talk as they walk towards a cluster of old brick buildings. Even if he doesn’t get close to the other guys on the team right away, it seems like Shitty’s already adopted him.

_X_

He was already regretting answering his phone.

“Nursey. Nursey Nursey Nursey Nursey Nur –”

“Oh my god what do you want, Shitty?!”

“Come play shinny with me and some of the guys! One of the townies’ dad built a rink in the backyard!”

“Alright! I’m in – give me five minutes to finish up this writing assignment.”

“Righteous! See you outside your door!”

_X_

Me: Can you come over?

Shitty: Of course dude

Want me to bring anything?

Something wrong?

Me: anxiety attack

red gatorade

Shitty: oh shit

omw

try to regulate your breathing till I get there

grab Tigger too

_X_

“What am I gonna do when you graduate, Shits?”

“What do you mean, bro? You’re gonna light it up, that’s what you’re gonna do!”

“Shitty…”

“I’m serious, man. You are mad talented on the ice, so you’ll probably be bumped up to second or even first line. Your poem was selected as a freshman for the school’s literary magazine. People are always asking me to bring you places – they want to hang out with you!”

“But you won’t be here. What if they don’t like me as much when you’re not around?”

“Impossible my dude. You’re great all by yourself and you’ll settle in in no time. Anyone who doesn’t like you when I’m not there aren’t smart by default. You’re a popular guy, you’ll have good friends after I graduate, I promise. And I’m always a phone call or text away.”

“Thanks, Shits.”

“Got your back, man. Now. Help me figure out where I’m going to college. Harvard, Yale, Samwell, Princeton, Brown. I need your pro/con skills. So far all I have is not New Jersey.”

“When you’re right you’re right. I’ll grab my fancy pens.”

_X_

“Nursey! Representing Andover on that Taddy Tour! What up, bro?”

Nursey whipped his head around at the shout of his name. There he was – Shitty hadn’t changed one bit. Well. His hair was longer since he didn’t have uniform requirements to meet.

“Heeey! Shitty! Knew I’d run into you eventually. Man, Samwell’s pretty sick.”

He was already planning on enrolling, but having Shitty here sealed the deal. Shitty had done so much to help Nursey feel comfortable at Andover three years ago. Nursey had missed him like crazy when he graduated, but they’d stayed in touch over the next few years. Shitty was always down to chat, but Nursey was really looking forward to hanging out with Shitty again in person.

The last three years at Andover hadn’t been bad – but there was always a presence that was palpably missing, at least to Nursey. Now that he was here, chilling with Shitty again, a weight came off his shoulders. Shitty’s got his back. Always.

[lizacstuff]

Merhaba friends - SCK episode 35 asks

(Fragman 36 ask at the end)

Apologies to those of you who sent asks for last week’s episode and I didn’t answer them. The week got away from me and then suddenly it was show day, the episode aired, and the asks were no longer relevant. Even if I didn’t answer I appreciate you reaching out!

Anonymous said: I’m dying to know what you thought.

While my ego would like to think that there are a variety of subjects that people might seek out my thoughts on, I’m going to guess you want to know what I thought of episode 35. 

I had a mixed reaction. I liked a lot of things, loved a lot of things, there were some things I found disappointing, and a few characters I wanted to strangle. So let’s explore from that perspective. 

Liked:

Romcom feel was back. It felt lighter and was easier to watch than a lot of eps in this arc.

Aydan, Ayfer and Seyfi working together to unite the kids. They were actually funny and trying to do the right thing, even if their methods were a bit morally gray. 

Serkan and Eda’s photo on outdoor advertising and on the cover of magazines. We’ll ignore how quick the turnaround was to get those photos up, it was just plain fun to watch Serkan see himself on his drive into work and be embarrassed and aggravated by the whole thing, while there was also a little spark of excitement from him in being linked to Eda like that. That was enjoyable.

Melo is always the best bestie and Ayfer didn’t suck as an aunt!

LOVED:

Most every individual Edser scene. 

Serkan out-of-his head with worry, planning to jump into the frigid sea, even though he wouldn’t have any shot of saving her that way. That’s my ride-or-die, protective romantic robot! 

Serkan making faces as Eda plans her wedding. Excellent work from Kerem here. 

Eda buttoning up Serkan’s shirt. That was hot. It was also hot that he just let her. 

Sekan buttoning up Eda’s dress (get a room kids and start going the other way... unbuttoning, UNBUTTON) This scene was emotional and the sexual tension! 

Serkan clutching his chest. The poor boy was about to have a panic attack right there. Follow through, writers, give him the full fledged panic attack!  

The hair caught in the button (There’s that button again!) sequence. it was funny and sexy and made Selin into a foolish, immature third wheel. I’m all for it. 

Serkan apologizing to Eda for Selin, that was big because up til now he hasn’t really recognized how awful Selin is in most situations. He has blinders when it comes to her, mostly because he doesn’t pay attention, so it was satisfying to see him acknowledge her bad behavior.

EVERY MOMENT AT THE BOLAT HOUSE. That was a great sequence, and IMO we mostly have Hande and Kerem to thank for it and not the writers. They brought it to life and obviously a lot of it was on them to just figure out what to do in the scene.  I loved that Serkan saw Eda amongst the flowers in that painting. Swoon!  their conversation about how they were both hungry was hilarious. Every moment with them fixing the sandwiches was gold and then it just got better from there. With him being willing to share food, to the throwback “mesala” conversation to her listening to his heart. All so... so... good. 

However, while we definitely deserved those nice, long, funny, heartwarming scenes, I must say the writers didn’t use them to their fullest potential. How did the night end? How did they part? Why was no progress made after spending the night that way?  If the writers were even half decent at their job they would have had Serkan confess some feelings while high, but not remember in the morning thus giving us the parallel with episode 11 when he was sick. Eda would have felt defeated when he didn’t remember, again, and it would have made more sense why she thought the fake wedding was her last shot at getting through to him. 

Characters I’m mad at:

Ceren knows the whole episode that Deniz loves Eda, she knows he’s being weird about it, she makes up with Eda, and stills says nothing? WTF?

Engin makes it to the wedding, he knows Serkan has his memories back and he doesn’t stop the wedding to let Eda know before she says yes? WTF?

Ferit allegedly has the photos and he thinks the wedding is real, but he doesn’t show Eda the photos so she has a better idea of what she’s getting into? WTF?      (though through that whole Ferit/Selin scene I wondered if Ferit was just playing along with Selin, trying to get info out of her and he’s not really the one who has the photos. Time will tell. )

Selin/Deniz- Obvious, psychos, I need them freaking gone. How Deniz can claim to love Eda, but sit there and watch her look devastated and cry her eyes out at the thought of fake marrying him, while knowing he’s about to pull a disgusting trick is unfathomable. He needs to be committed.

Disappointing:

To be clear, I no longer care, but I can’t believe how badly they flubbed this storyline. That? That was the payoff for the hell we’ve been put through for 7 weeks? Wow talk about not worth it and anti-climactic. I’m not going to go on about all the ways they failed, but I could. 

While I fully believe that Serkan fell back in love with Eda before he got his memories back (see this post) he should have confessed to Eda before he got them back. That was the whole point of this entire storyline and they carried that the entire time, but then fumbled the ball at the 1 yard line. Good grief, these writers are bad. 

Serkan gets his memories back, he knows time is of the essence, and he still is torn and has to think about it? WHAT? Just no. Ridiculous. I realize they did it for maximum suspense, but they shouldn’t have. They really shouldn’t have.

That was their reunion after all we’ve been through? Come on, writers, step it up. I realize we no longer have the writers that gave us his love declaration in 11 or Eda’s and Serkan’s proposals, or their make up scene in 28 or their goodbye scene in 28, but this was lackluster. 

So, in summation, there was a lot that I really enjoyed, I thought the episode flowed better than some of the others in this arc, and lots of great individual Edser moments, it’s just the way they flubbed the whole storyline. I’m just so glad the amnesia is over, that thankfully I don't really care.

Anonymous said: when pushed by engin and aydan multiple times in the episode he never denies he ISN'T in love with her and rather skirts around the issue and deflects with "she's marrying deniz!" which should be proof enough he fell in love with her especially considering in 29 he was telling eda that "there was no such thing as love" between them. it was almost reminiscent of eda in 10/11 where she doesn't tell him her feelings bc she believes he wants selin, this time in reverse bc he believes she's moved on.

This came in response to this ask, and yes I agree. I should have hit that point harder, that Engin and Aydan ask him and he never denies it. When this arc started he would have denied it in a flat second. 

He fell in love with her again, full stop. It’s just a shame that they didn’t make it the entire crux of his love confession, we deserved to see that. Just one of the many ways the writers dropped the ball with this storyline. 

Anonymous said: The whiplash we got going from 26-28 to the drag of 29-35 though. 🤦🏼‍♀️ and you really could cut out that entire storyline and you wouldn’t be missing anything because really nothing happened. They didn’t even have Serkan stopping Eda before he got his memories back to fulfill a basic assumed foreshadowing. Like....huh?

I don’t want to be negative, but it’s crazy to me that they sped through wedding prep at a lightning pace and then went through this painful amnesia storyline at a snail’s pace. They should have had at least 5 episodes of wedding prep, doing just one pre-wedding activity per episode, but kept Babaanne around to create the drama. I wanted at least one episode of them back together, but keeping it secret so they could work against her. We were robbed of that!

Anonymous said: I know we’ve been hating a lot on the new writers but the showrunner still has to sign off on these scenes right? And it’s been the same one this whole time. What has she been thinking? Maybe the writers didn’t do their homework but surely she can tell that scenes being very out of character wouldn’t make sense?

Bold of you to assume there’s a showrunner as we know them on a Hollywood show. I assume you’re talking about Asena, but I always think of her more of a cross between an EP and a network exec. A bit more removed than a showrunner.  I have no idea who the guiding light of this show is since Ayse left. The production timelines are so tight, I don’t think there’s time to review scripts and reject them. Sometime I think it’s a wonder anything makes sense at all. 

Anonymous said: I see you've giffed some of the edser "questionable positions" bookshelf scene. (Awesome gifs btw). Honestly, that entire scene was really funny, with the rest of the art life crew jumping in. Even Selin made me laugh when she came in there and said "how did her hair get stuck?!" and Serkan very sarcastically replied with something like "I wound it up in there, what do you think??" Not to mention all the very close face talking that was going on!

Great scene! Here’s the gif set you’re referring to.  I suppose the writers proved they could do fun, and romantically comedic scenes if they want to. More like this, please. 

Anonymous said:

With these past 5 (?) episodes with these last set of writers, I truly believe that they did not go back to watch SCK at all before writing. Any past references were probably given to them on a checklist or something. Like I don't know if they even watched episode 28 with how they ended up doing away with the memory loss. Its kind of astounding how much they dropped the ball. Hopefully the rumors of new writers are true and they get enough episodes to give us a good ending to this story!

This came in right after the episode, but unfortunately, we learned today that we are apparently not getting new writers, at least not for episode 36.I was fully convinced we were since Sefkat (the production company twitter admin) liked Yasin’s post when he said we’d be getting all new writers for 36. Normally I don’t believe anything Yasin says because he has lied so many times that any info he actually has just comes across as a clock being right twice a day.  However, when she liked it, I found that convincing.  Also the way they cancelled shooting on Saturday and H/K were in for a meeting on Friday. Seemed like it was all adding up. We’ll see, maybe there will be new ones for 37??

As for not watching what came before, it certainly feels like they only skimmed and watched certain scenes and didn’t do a deep dive on the series. Watching all the eps in full should be a requirement before they start the job. I always feel they are  just off with Serkan’s characterization, they don’t quite get him and they turn him a bit into a cardboard cutout of early Serkan. It’s like the character sketch outline of Serkan, but with no depth. 

Anonymous said: When I saw the character description of the new cast member added to the show I was like "great, another possible screen space filler in regards to Aydan" but after watching the episode, I was actually really intrigued by his character. I know there's a bunch of theories out there that Serkan is actually his son, which I don't really buy into right now, but nevertheless he was a real potential to be a father figure in Serkan's life... and maybe the only guest character to not be a villain lol.

I’ll tell you this, that casting makes it seem like they at least want us to think he’s Serkan’s father.  He’s way better looking that Alptekin and he just looks like he could genetically be responsible for the magnificence that is Serkan. 

We’ll see what they do. I think it could be interesting, just because until Serkan met Eda he was so invested in being “Serkan Bolat” that having his identity shaken like this would be seismic for him. It could create some really good drama for him in all his relationships without tearing apart Edser. Also, if Alptekin knew it would go along way in explaining that relationship. Alptekin always demanding perfection and the cold way he sent him away to boarding school. It would explain why he could never earn his father’s love or approval, and that knowledge might give him some peace. 

In addition, and a big plus, it would mean that his biological father was NOT responsible for the deaths of Eda’s parents. 

Anonymous said: 1/ everyone for weeks was waxing poetic and had super detailed headcannons of how serkan would remember in really specific ways when he realized he was in love, something that ayfer kinda poked fun of at the beginning of the ep talking about the fake wedding, but i was genuinely laughing out loud at serkan and engin accidently getting into a fight and him yelling throughout it that he remembers and engin pushing him in front going "can you give him one good hit?!" lmaoo

2/ getting a good hit to the end to unscramble your brain that is already giving you flashbacks is more actually more realistic than the usual fairytale way.. sure, less romantic, but definitely more realistic. the man was already in love with her, super confused on what to do since he genuinely thought she was marrying deniz, and was already having flashes, all he really needed was good hit in the head lol. maybe eda should've kept going when they were boxing 😂

I like your take on it.

Anonymous said: i think they saw the fandom complaining week after week that there was too much heaviness/drama in their romcom and said "so you guys want romcom? here i'll give you full on romcom" which is what i thought this episode was! and i really appreciated such a fun ep overall to watch to bring this otherwise really sad and emotion heavy memory loss plot to an end.

Yes, the episode was a lot more fun than most that had come before it. If only they could have tied it all together. 

Anonymous said: Something that just occurred to me that's so crazy in addition to wrapping an episode days before it airs, is that in Turkish television, a series has like 1 permanent director and a small writing team that writes ALL of the episodes. In US TV, that's pretty much unheard of - different writers rotate owning each episode and the same director will shoot maybe 2-3 episodes at most a season. The production turnaround time is so short that it's insane that we don't hear of more last-minute delays

I know, I think about this all the time. It’s crazy to me that there’s only one director. Which is why there’s not a lot of added layers to this show.  When a director just has one episode on their plate and they spend a couple of weeks prepping to direct, every shot, every angle, every bit of set dressing can be meaningful. This show doesn’t have that kind of visual depth.  On the other hand you do get a director that knows the actors and crew inside and out and they all have a short hand which allows them to get to what they want faster and easier. That can’t be replicated with directors who come in for one episode. 

Anonymous said: Over the past month or so, I’ve been seeing so many people cancel Serkan and wanting Eda to leave him forever and move away, but she really never gave up on him and she might finally get him back this week 😭 in fact, Eda and Melo are the only people we’ve seen who have tried to help get his memories back! Everyone who has been friendly to Selin can disinvite themselves to the Edser wedding

I’m glad I didn’t see a bunch of this nonsense myself.  But, honestly, anyone who wants Eda to leave and not end up with Serkan... why are they watching this show to begin with? Did they take a wrong turn somewhere? How did they last this long watching it? We’re 35 episode in and this entire show is their love story, beyond that story and it being a vehicle to showcase Hande and Kerem’s awesome chemistry, it really doesn’t offer many other reasons to watch. 

And yes to jettisoning anyone who was friendly with Selin. PIRIL I’M LOOKING AT YOU. I sure hope Piril finds out exactly how low Selin will sink. She needs to feel ashamed for welcoming her back without question. 

Anonymous said: That fragman for ep 36...part of me wants to hope that it will all be solved pretty soon, since we got edser separated for so long we deserved them together now. But part of me also knows these writers suck so I’m expecting the worst. I just wanted edser together again 😭

I know. When I saw the full fragman my initial reaction was to yell “WHY CAN’T WE HAVE NICE THINGS!!!!!!!”  But I’ve calmed down now. 

It seems to me that we have Serkan and Eda together and working together to figure this mess out, which is good. we have romantic walks on the pier, and Eda spending the night at his place and a sweet breakfast setting with Eda in jammies. All good.  

But then we also have Selin and Deniz refusing to quit.  Selin comes up with the plan that if Deniz doesn’t sign the papers in time, then they will have to get a divorce which means Eda can’t marry for 300 days. So then, what? Deniz steals Serkan’s car and goes on the run? 

What they hope to accomplish with this, I don’t know. Because even if they succeed and Serkan and Eda can’t get married right away, it’s not like they’ll just magically decide that they want to be with those two psychos instead.  I can see Selin doing it just for revenge so she can make them miserable, but what’s Deniz’ motivation? The further psycho he goes, the worse Eda will think of him. Bizarre. 

As for the pregnancy thing. It sounds like Eda must hear that from someone. My money is on Deniz. That’s his Hail Mary to try and drive a wedge between Serkan and Eda. Because seemingly when Eda brings it up, Selin asks where did you hear that. Also, phew, Eda says right away that if its true that Sekan deserves to know, which hopefully will clear things up (because the writers showed us over and over and over again that they weren’t sleeping in the same bed) and it will show Serkan just what kind of crazy he’s dealing with. 

Anonymous said: I was pretty excited after watching the fragman, but surprised when I went on twitter and saw that almost everyone was really upset by it. I’m sure most people know Selin isn’t actually pregnant, but they all still somehow hate the storyline (possibly bc they think it’ll drive edser apart?) idk am I crazy for thinking that we’ll still get good edser moments and them staying together and fighting together? I guess the show needs drama to continue but I’m not mad because I think good edser will outweigh bad/miscommunication edser.

I’m sure we’ll get good Edser moments, but I can’t really fault anyone for being extremely annoyed by this fragman. I think this little plot point will end up not being a big deal at all, however, I can see how it feels like a kick in the face after what we’ve been through the last 7 episodes. It’s like can we get one happy episode? Just one?

Also it’s just very uncomfortable. I’m in the camp that currently thinks it’s impossible for her to be pregnant because they haven’t slept together. He was too fragile and injured before they came back to Istanbul (sleeping on the couch with his PTSD) and after he was too confused and consumed by Eda and just uninterested in Selin. I have to believe they kept showing us them not spending the night in the same place for a reason. 

However, if they were to have had sex, it’s very unsettling because it’s a little too close to him not being able to give consent. It’s Rape by Deception. He had a brain injury, amnesia, was suffering a myriad of traumas and was not in his right mind. He did not have the full set of facts on where their relationship stood, but she did (she knew he wanted nothing to do with her and told her he never loved her and didn’t even want to be friends) and instead of being honest she abused him. She lied to him. She didn’t tell him the truth about what had happened. She isolated him from anyone who could tell him the truth and manipulated him into thinking that she was the only person in the world he could trust and the person he loved and trusted most was untrustworthy and an enemy. 

However, as the audience we know the things she’d done in the past to abuse his trust, and we know for certain if he remembered, he would never consent to sleep with her. Never. So even beyond the cheating and the romance it would rob us of if they did have sex, it’s ICKY and GROSS and none of us want to even think of it.  I don’t expect TV writers in Turkey to be on the forefront of thought when it comes to issues of consent, so I’d rather this door just not be opened at all. 

But here we are, they opened it. Now all we can do it hope that it is a device to hear Serkan say that it isn’t impossible and for Selin to be fully exposed as completely unbalanced and a lying, manipulator.

Anonymous said: the fandom by use of sheer will forced this selin plot line into existence LOL. i swear since the beginning of the memory plot in 29, the "selin will lie to eda she's pregnant" rumor has been constantly making rounds, and i guess it's time to cash in. i will say that i've seen ppl thinking know that somehow serkan and her were intimate even though she's clearly lying.. guys, if there was even a POSSIBILITY she would've used this way back before now and would have told everyone, including serkan.

I agree with this. If this was a card she could play with Serkan, she’d play it. She’s been getting more and more desperate. And in the fragman there she is coming up with ways for Deniz to run away so he can’t sign the papers. If there was something she could hold over Serkan, she would, She’s not because then the con would be up, we’ll just have to wait and see how big of a lie she’s willing to tell. 

Anonymous said: I wonder if Selin was a spy when she was younger! That woman is always watching everything from her car! Even in the new trailer.

Ha! Let’s hope that in the end she’s not a very good spy and they finally get one over on her. Oh please oh please oh please let the stable boy be the one who has the photos and let him have more on her. I want there to be tons of photos of her in her car spying on them. That would be so humiliating for her. 

Seriously, though, who knows what happened to Selin to make her the way she is. Frankly, I don’t think my assessment of her has really changed (most of my old posts on her are tagged with “anti Selin”) She’s just a spoiled, selfish, entitled brat who thinks she should get anything and everything she wants. If she wants Serkan, she should have him, doesn’t matter what he wants or who she hurts, she’ll do whatever she has to do to make that happen. She was probably never told no as a child. So when she’s thwarted she thinks she’s entitled to whatever reaction she wants to have, if that’s ruining other people’s lives, so be it.  No one can be happy if she’s not. 

[ve1vetyoongi]

heart of gold (blades of ice) | ksj

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst.

Au: christmas!au, figure skater!oc, hockey player!seokjin

Word count: 20k

Summary: After a fall during figure skating practice dashes your dreams of competing at nationals, you vow to hang up your skates for good. That is until you cross paths with Kim Seokjin, captain of the ice hockey team, who is determined to get you back out on the rink and melt the ice in your heart.

Warnings: unprotected penetrative sex (don’t risk it protect ur biscuit kids), fingering, nipple play, handjobs, fluffy smut, mentions of panic/anxiety, cavity inducing fluff, all the cheesy Christmas cliches we know and love and also probably a number of terrible skating/ice hockey inaccuracies pls forgive me lol i tried.

Disclaimer: although some parts of this fic take place when the characters are teenagers, all smut takes place when they are legal, consenting adults!

A/N: hello 🥺 it’s been a while but i finally finished writing this fic for @jamaisjoons’ 12 days of bangtan collab! (link to be added bc tumblr sucks) I had so much fun writing something fluffy for a change (although there’s some angst in there too for all you sadists who ask me for more of that) and it really got me into the Christmas spirit this year so i rlly hope it can do the same for you 🥺🎄 a big merry Christmas to all of you guys, thank you for being here with me through 2019 and pls don’t forget to check out all the other amazing collab fics!! all the love hehe ~ 💞

You spot your best friend Seulgi sat on the bleachers immediately. Her red hair stands out like a sore thumb against the white glare of the campus ice rink.

It's mid November and the cold wind that whispers over your skin as you watch skaters glide past on the ice paints the tip of your nose a rosy pink, even with a scarf wrapped tightly around it. Seulgi doesn't seem bothered by the temperature, wearing nothing but a pale blue bodysuit and tights all while stuffing her feet into a pair of polished ice skates nonchalantly as you climb the steps.

Seulgi doesn't even have to look up to know it's you when you slump down beside her. You've been best friends since the age of five and she would recognise the frustrated sigh you let out beside her in an instant.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice quips, chastising enough to finally pull your eyes away from the rink. You don't respond, stubbornly slinging your chapped hands into your coat pocket and avoiding her gaze until you feel a gentle hand on your arm. "I thought you said you weren't going to torture yourself anymore, Y/N."

You finally turn to look at her. There's a flick of silver liner on her lids that sparkles like tiny snowflakes against her dark lashes. She looks like she belongs in one of those figure skating magazines you used to ponder over as a kid. Like she belongs here, belongs on the ice.

You belonged here too, once. Before the accident.

The accident. 

The accident that destroyed your dreams of competing as a professional skater. The one that every single competitive figure skater at the rink whispers about in the locker rooms when you aren't around. The accident that turned the looks of astonishment and wonder you used to receive as you whirled around the ice into nothing but half smiles and pity as you now stand beside it.

Seulgi is looking at you like that right now, her puckered bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she searches your face for any sign of brokenness. You focus on steadying the rise and fall of your breath, letting the ache that seems to permanently stab at your chest these days whenever you're reminded of just how much you miss skating float away with the wisps of condensation that leave your lips with every exhale of chilly air.

"Trying to stay away was worse," You shrug. "I like being close to the ice."

"That's what you said last week before you had a panic attack after I slipped in the middle of my routine," Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest. "What if it happens again?"

"I'm feeling better, really." You manage to look her in the eyes, attempting to sound as convincingly sincere as possible.

"Fine. But don't make me say I told you so." She tucks your hair behind your ear before she's distracted again. "Hey, don't look now but Jimin's heading this way!" Seulgi squeals, fixing her hair hurriedly. 

She crosses and uncrosses her legs before settling into a position she deems natural and alluring, though it just makes her look stiff. "Do I look okay?"

You let out a puff of laughter. Seulgi has been head over heels for Jimin for as long as you can remember. You disapprove for the most part since Jimin has a reputation for being a world renowned ass but what with her being the most envied figure skater at the rink after winning a gold medal at nationals and him being the top ranked ice hockey player on campus, it only seemed like a matter of time before they would "team up". And Seulgi seems determined to make it happen before the year is out.

You follow her gaze to where the ice hockey team are clambering out of the locker rooms, hoots of laughter echoing through the rink as they push and pull each other playfully in their wobbly skates.

Sure enough, it's Park Jimin who interrupts your inner dialogue as he skates over to the barrier, waving up at Seulgi who grabs you by the hand and pulls you down to rink beside her despite your grumbling. Moral support, she says.

"Seulgi!" His skates crunch against the ice as he swings to a perfect stop. "What's up?"

"Not much! This is my best friend, Y/N. I don't think you guys have met before—"

"I know who she is." Jimin looks you up and down. "Skater right?"

"Ex-skater." You correct him.

"Oh that's right." There's a glint in his eyes as he pretends to pout, tugging on his collar like he wants you to think he made a mistake. Everyone around here knows about the accident so it's hardly believable. Jimin knows that you don't like him. Is he trying to get under your skin? "Whoops."

"Anyway..." Seulgi swiftly interrupts the strangely tense staring contest going down between you and Jimin, hand curling around your forearm like she's afraid you might jump him or something.

Jimin's eyes snap back to Seulgi. "So, I've been meaning to ask. Would you be able to get free tickets for me and the guys for the Christmas party at the rink next week?"

You roll your eyes. So that's why he suddenly decided to come over here to talk to Seulgi. Jimin was known for picking up girls with his sweet bargaining talk and empty promises and dropping them when they no longer had anything to offer, and this seemed like another one of his tricks — after all, everyone knows that Seulgi's dad owns the town's biggest ice rink and that tickets for the annual Christmas parade are like gold dust to get your hands on.

Jimin flashes Seulgi one of his trademark pearly grins and you can see her panties practically drop as she nods eagerly, even despite the condescending look you give. Don't do it. You try to send the words with your brain waves or something but apparently thirteen years of friendship isn't strong enough to break down the barrier of Park Jimin infatuation.

"Of course! I'll add you to the guest list!"

You slap a palm to your forehead.

"Great! I guess you could call it a date..."

Jimin's sweet talking becomes too cavity inducing to bare so you resort to resting your chin in your palm and watching the hockey team play instead.

You've seen them practice here hundreds of times so it's no wonder the brand new player sat at the edge of the ice, doing up his skates alone in a number 33 jersey, stands out to you instantly.

The whistle blows and the game starts and you gasp when you see how easily and languidly he glides across the ice. "Who is that?"

Jimin follows your gaze, resting his elbows on the edge of the rink just in time to watch the mystery player slide past his opponent before sending the hockey puck flying into the net with an easy precision. His teammates skid to sharp stops, jaws hanging open in disbelief at his skill as they fumble to congratulate him with loud thwacks to the back of his jersey.

"Who is that?" Seulgi's mouth is open in disbelief as Number 33 just brushes his team off with a humble nod, as if the attention makes him bashful, and skates to the centre of the rink to maintain his starting position for the second round.

"Him?" Jimin rolls his eyes. "That's the new captain. Can't remember his name. Don't care, honestly. Said he moved here from downtown or something, I don't know, but everyone acts as if he's an ice hockey prodigy or something."

"He's good." You jump in. "I've never seen someone make a goal that easy before."

"I just don't understand why coach chose him to be captain instead of me." Jimin murmurs under his breath, though you still catch the disdain in his voice as Number 33 makes yet another goal. "There's only one scholarship up for grabs and it has to be mine."

The funny feeling is back in your stomach again as the game finally comes to an end and the guy in the number 33 jersey disappears into the locker room. You just can't put your finger on it. Why are you so drawn to this random guy?

"Earth to Y/N? Hello?" Seulgi waves a hand in front of your face and you notice the blush on her cheeks as Jimin jogs away. "Critique my salchow jumps while I practice?"

You nod and Seulgi disappears onto the ice, taking her starting position before the music plays and she glides across the ice with ease. But you barely even feel the pang in your chest like usual as you watch her perform a routine you know you could do a million times better because you're too focused on the name that echoes through the arena as the guy in the number 33 jersey emerges from the locker room, helmet in hand now as he shakes free his head of dark brown hair.

"Kim Seokjin!"

Suddenly everything becomes clear.

5 years ago.

Adrenaline runs hot in your veins as you tip toe onto the rink.

Seulgi's dad always let you be the first to break the fresh ice in. There's nothing you love more than the first crunch of your blades against the blanket of undisturbed frost, how the coolness of the ice hits your chapped skin as you gain speed, skates gliding on autopilot like they're following the map of patterns every spin leaves behind in the mosaic of ice.

Here it's easy to forget. All that matters is focus and balance and fingertips skimming ice. Reminding yourself to push further, to embrace the dizzy feeling of flying. Getting lost in the speed and the adrenaline and the goddamn burn in your quads as you close your eyes and spin and spin, arms poised like you might take flight at any second. Like you're one with the ice.

And when the determined sweat on your brow freezes and the blisters from your rental skates gets too much, you glide to the edge of the rink and drape yourself over the barrier with a triumphant smile. Your body aches and even though you shiver there's a warmth in your chest.

Freedom. And you can never get enough.

You don't realise your gasping for breath until a nervous cough pops your bubble of serenity and you're reminded you're at the ice rink and your shift is about to start and there's a strange guy in a fur hood and mittens peering up at you with wide eyes.

What the...?

"Can I help you?" You ask.

An awkward silence stretches out as the guy stares at you quizzically for a second, eyes dragging from your skates up to your face. You see him swallow thickly when he meets your gaze.

"Me?" He glances to the left and then to the right, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red when he finds the rink otherwise derelict. "Oh, uh...I was walking by just now and I saw you and—"

"If you wanna skate you need to buy a ticket." You hoist yourself off the rink, clomping across the heavy rubber carpet towards the ticket booth in your skates like you're on a pair of wobbly stilts.

He thrusts his hands into his pockets and trails a few steps behind you, eyes trained to the ground as you lift the hatch and slip behind the cash register. "Right. I knew that."

"What size do you need?" You call over your shoulder.

"Huh?"

He's a couple feet shorter than you and his forehead barely pokes over the counter of the booth but you can still sense the confusion in his voice. It takes all your strength to bite back a smile. "Your shoe size? For your skates?"

"Oh — right! Uh, 12 please." The guy scratches the back of his neck bashfully as you hand him a pair of freshly sharpened rental skates. His hand shoots out a little too eagerly, mitten covered fingers just barely brushing yours, the touch enough to send a jolt through your entire body like you'd just touched something icy cold. You pause, your own cheeks heating up now as the fur hood hugging his ears falls down to reveal a mop of messy brown hair and a pair of gentle eyes that won't quite meet yours.

You cough, eager to gloss over the awkward moment quickly. "First time here, huh?"

The embarrassed chuckle he lets out is endearing. "Yup. Is it that obvious?"

"Kinda." A smile finds your lips as he slips off one of his sneakers and fiddles with the laces of the ice skates clumsily. "So what brings you here?"

His foot finally slides into the boot. He smiles triumphantly. "I want to learn how to do what you did."

You quirk a brow. "Me?"

"Yeah. Just now, when you were skating. It was awesome. Like you were flying or something." He swallows. "I hope you don't mind that I watched, you can tell me if it's totally creepy-"

You cut off his nervous rambling with a chuckle. "It's fine, really." It's your turn to avert your eyes now. "Besides, I'm not awesome. But thanks."

You watch the professional figure skaters that frequent the rink to practice every week with their perfected turns and toe loop jumps and hand sewn leotards that glimmer in the rink's reflection. They are poised and disciplined, floating across the rink like their skates never quite touch the surface. You are nothing like them. And you never will be.

"Are you kidding?" The guy all but splutters. "You're the best skater I've ever seen!"

"And how many other skaters have you seen?"

"Zero." His eyes glint cheekily. "But I'm sure none of them could top you, skater girl.”

You practically choke at that, face flushing a deep red as you bump into a rack of ice skating brochures before panicking and dropping to your knees out of sight behind the booth.

Way to seem natural! What had gotten into you? Idiot.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching your inner arm like you might wake up from a crazy dream and this whole embarrassing-yourself-in-front-of-cute-boy malarkey would disappear with it. Alas, when your eyes open you find that you are very much awake and brochures cover the booth of the floor.

Luckily, he doesn't notice; he's already getting to his feet shakily, whitened knuckles gripping the side of the booth as he tries to find his balance. You remember how it felt the first time you wore a pair of skates. How the edges dug into your ankles and every step felt like you were on a tight rope. Now they felt natural.

"Woah!" His first steps are like watching a baby deer, arms outstretched as he desperately tries to maintain his dignity and stop from face planting before he even gets out on the ice. "This is harder than I thought..."

You slowly get up from your knees, a coy smile finding your mouth as you peer over the counter. The new customers were always the best to spy on; you and Seulgi spend hours back here behind this very booth spluttering over hot cocoa at the people who always seem to fall on their asses as soon as they touch the ice. If she was here right now she'd probably say something about how he was ticking every first skater cliche box possible.

Frantic windmill arms? Check. Nervous muttering? Check. The balance of a penguin in high heels? Triple check.

You rest your chin in your palm, biting back your amusement when he staggers over to the edge of the rink and tentatively takes his first step onto the ice. His skate immediately slides out from beneath him and his knuckles turn white around his grip on the barrier as he struggles to pull himself back upright, glancing side to side bashfully to check if anyone spotted his screw up.

"I meant to do that..." He grunts, taking a deep breath as he moves closer to the ice again. This time, his first step is successful and after a few almost mishaps he seems to finally get the hang of it, pushing his weight back and forth so that he moves — albeit shakily — across the rink, gaining speed by the second. He punches the air triumphantly, letting out a long hoot of elation.

"Look I'm doing it! — wait...ah!" Despair flashes across his features when he realises his body is headed straight towards the barrier at full speed. "How do I stop?!" He cries, legs scrambling to find their balance.

"Oh no..." You wince, covering your eyes. "This can't end well."

It's too late to help him now and all you can do is wince and watch in horror as he crashes onto the ice in a pile of clumsy limbs with a grunt.

"Ouch!"

You count the seconds that he's down, waiting for the moment his head pops up over the barrier. Ten seconds. Then twenty. Thirty, and still no sign of his dazed face or choppy bangs.

Oh no.

Before you can think better of it you are clambering over to the rink and gliding across the ice to where he lays on his back, eyes shut.

He's not...he can't be...is he?

"Are you okay?" You prod him with the toe of your skate. No response. Panic courses through your veins as you fall to your knees and shake him by the shoulders. "Oh my god, please wake up!"

A lazy smile appears on his face, words a little slurred. "I'm fine! I'm fine!"

You lean back into your heels with a sigh of relief as he scrambles onto his elbows and brushes the ice chips from the back of his coat.

"That was..."

"Dangerous." You deadpan.

"Amazing!" He breathes, pure wonder lighting up his face. "I want to go again!"

Your mouth hangs open as he tries to scramble to his feet awkwardly and without success, his skates sliding out from beneath him again. He grabs at the scarf strung around your neck to try and save himself, only he ends up just pulling you down with him into a heap on the ice.

"See! Dangerous." You tut, rolling your eyes as you feel the wet ice soak into the back of your jeans. Nice, now you would have to walk around looking like you pissed your pants for the rest of the day.

He pouts, blowing a frustrated puff of air from the corner of his mouth to dislodge the bangs that fell messily across his eyes in the scuffle. "You made it look so easy! How do you do it without falling on your ass?"

You snort. "You don't. If you wanna learn to skate you're gonna have to embrace having a cold ass once in a while. Skating is about being able to pick yourself back up again each time you fall." You rub the small of your back with a frown. "Even if it bruises."

You get to your feet and reach out a hand for him to take, pulling him up after you. When he finally finds his balance you grab him by the elbow to glide over to the safety of the edge of the rink where he can't be a liability to himself. He lets out a breath of relief when his fingers grasp the barrier.

"Aren't you scared to fall?" He puffs, wiping the sweat that has formed on his brow despite the chill in the air from the ice.

"Terrified." You grin when he glances up at you through his bangs, eyebrow quirked. "But that's part of the fun."

"Teach me." He says suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Teach me how to skate." He clasps his hands together, eyes full and round. "Properly! Like you. Please?"

You let out a sigh. You barely even know this kid. For all you knew he could be a crazy person!

But something about the way his eyes shine when he lifts his hands from the barrier and manages to keep his balance makes you hesitate. You recognise the flushing smile on his face, can imagine the warm feeling of triumph thawing his chest.

Passion.

How could you say no?

"Fine. Meet me here every day at 3. And don't be late."

"Deal." He holds out a mittened hand for you to shake. "My name is Seokjin, by the way. What's yours, skater girl?"

"Y/N." You say when you take his warm hand in yours. "Nice to meet you."

Three o clock becomes your favourite time of day.

Seokjin is like a snow storm in a cup. True to his word, every day when the clock ticks over to 3PM he comes flying into the rink in a flurry of cheesy smiles and dad jokes.

And even though you make fun of the bundles of scarves up to his eyes (that his mom made him wear, as he likes to remind you begrudgingly) and roll your eyes every time he trips over his own skates or bruises his knees or falls on his ass, you can't deny the fact that you're starting to enjoy having him around.

You're not the only one who loves his company. Everyone at the rink is talking about the guy with the bowl cut who is showing so much potential. Probably because Seokjin is much better than you at making friends, instantly becoming well liked in the skating community for his humour and his up and coming skating skills. You hate to admit it but when Seokjin smiles and flirts with the pretty figure skaters from Seulgi's class it makes you burn with jealousy, especially when they titter at his stupid jokes like they're the peak of comedy.

But when Seokjin sees you tying your skates and watching from afar he always turns down their offers to buy him coffee and bounds over to you like a puppy, ready to launch into a recount of some anime he watched last night or one of the advanced skating jumps he wants you to teach him despite barely being able to keep his balance on the ice.

And that's why Seokjin makes you feel like you belong here just as much as everyone else. Because he sees you when no one else does. Because you finally have something that is all your own.

"What's up, skater girl?" Seokjin shoots you a set of finger guns when you look up from the skating magazine in your lap before he leaps over the ticket booth counter. "No customers today?"

You shake your head. Sunday's were always slow days at the rink. That's why you liked these shifts. It's peaceful just being alone with the ice.

"Guess you could say we're totally ice-olated! Get it?" He cackles as he pulls out a pair of white skates from his backpack. His parents bought them for him as an early Christmas present. They are much nicer than your scuffed rental ones and you tuck your feet under the chair so that he can't see them while he ties up his laces.

You chatter absentmindedly as you make your way to the rink as usual. It's only been a few months of lessons but Seokjin doesn't even flinch now when his blades touch the ice, immediately taking off around the rink as fast as he can to blow off some steam before skidding to a stop in a flurry of ice chips when you flash him an amused grin.

"I can never get enough of this feeling." He spins in demonstration, the ends of his hair fluttering up in the breeze that whips around him. "Can we keep learning the routine today? I think I almost got it perfect last time."

"Sure." Seokjin had begged you for weeks to teach him a figure skating routine so you showed him one of the easy ones you saw the beginner skaters perform sometimes. He was getting pretty good now, rarely falling on his butt or missing a step like before. The concentration on his face as he copies your demonstrations and the triumphant grin that replaces it when he finally gets a jump right fills you with a sense of pride.

You're about to skate over to the boom box and hit play on some music so you can go over the routine when the door busts open and in walks Seulgi's figure skating class. You instantly fill with dread as their eyes land on you, scrutinising, and you feel a heat rise in your cheeks.

"Hey Seokjin!" One of them calls — Jennie, you think her name is — as she drapes herself over the barrier seductively. "Why don't you come over here and show us what you're made of? Without your, uh, friend"

"Sorry Jennie, I'm kinda busy right now." He shouts back. "Maybe some other time."

A weird combination of envy and sadness rises inside  you. "Just go." You mutter. "They can teach you a lot more than I can. I don't care."

Lies. You care so much the words taste sour leaving your mouth but you're sure the way Seokjin wistfully gazes towards the pretty girl with fluttering eyelashes who throws her sheet of black hair over her shoulder invitingly tells you all you need to know.

You sting with inferiority. You are just a rookie after all. A nobody. Why would Seokjin want to hang out with you?

With an awkward pout you take off and start skating in circles absentmindedly. It acts as a pleasant distraction, lets you breathe a little bit. Another pair of skates scrape somewhere behind you and then Seokjin's shoulder brushes up against yours. You push harder and faster but he's good now and keeps up with you easily, even as you both start panting with exertion.

"Why don't you take skating classes here like them?" He asks suddenly. "I know it bothers you. You spend so much time skating, don't you wanna do it for real?"

Seokjin's question takes you by so much surprise that you forget your balance and before you can react you're sat in a heap of limbs on the ice. You hide behind your hair when you hear the figure skating team tittering with laughter, amused that however hard you try you will never be able to skate like them.

"Because I'm not like them." You mumble. "I don't have supportive parents like you and I don't have the talent they do." Seokjin says nothing and you wait for him to leave you for Jennie instead but he just stays rooted to the spot. "Why don't you just get proper lessons if your parents can afford it? Why do you keep coming back here everyday to me?"

Seokjin doesn't respond. The next thing you know, there's a loud crash and he's throwing himself forcefully onto his butt on the ice beside you. "Whoops!" He says, putting on a show for the skaters to hear. They immediately stop laughing when he sends them a stern look.

"Because I like you." Seokjin whispers, but only loud enough for you to hear this time, making a point of rubbing his back like the fall hurt to make you laugh. "Not them."

He offers you a hand and you both scramble to your feet. The smile on your face hurts your cheeks but you can't bring yourself to let it go. And as Seokjin spins you around until your giddy and your teeth start to chatter you forget about the skaters and the inferiority and fill with nothing but belonging.

"You're getting better." You tell Seokjin as you skate hand in hand over to the edge of the ice. "In a couple of weeks you'll be able to skate without me supervising."

He smirks. "I know."

"How humble." You punch his shoulder but he barely flinches, just chuckles when you nearly lose your balance again and he has to grab you under the elbows to keep you upright. "Woah!"

When you look up you're practically nose to nose with him. His breath is warm when it tickles your cheek and you feel yourself go slack in his grip. Seokjin's eyes are filled with stars as they dip down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.

It hits you how much you want him to kiss you. How much you want to kiss him. Although he seems to have other ideas...

"Hey, I almost forgot!" He pulls away and you let out a shaky breath, scuffing the toe of your skate against the carpet bashfully. Seokjin's face lights up as he fumbles around in his big coat pockets. "I got you something for Christmas. Close your eyes."

"Huh?"

He's practically jumping from foot to foot with excitement now. "Just do it!"

You oblige with a fond shake of your head, squeezing your eyes shut, heart fluttering when Seokjin presses something cold and smooth into the palm of your hand.

When you uncurl your fingers you find a delicate Christmas ornament in your palm that is shaped like a pearly white ice skate. The tiny boot is tied up with red and white candy cane laces and the silver glitter on the blade sparkles in the low light.

"Oh Seokjin..." You gasp, turning it around in your fingers. "It's so pretty."

"Do you like it?" Seokjin asks anxiously, searching your face, a grin appearing on his lips to match your own when you nod eagerly.

"I love it!"

"I thought of you as soon as I saw it." He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "Now you can think of me when you see it, too."

You slide Seokjin's gift into your pocket, walking beside him in a comfortable silence towards the exit. "See you here again tomorrow?"

Seokjin's hand falters on the door handle, something close to pain crossing his features. You wait for him to answer your question but he never does. Instead you're being pulled into a tight hug, his arms squeezing you so tightly you start to feel light headed. At least that's what you tell yourself. It can't be the way his warm breath flutters against your neck, right?"

"Thank you. For everything." He murmurs into your hair. "For being you."

Your arms wrap around his back instinctively. "All of a sudden?"

"Just remember that, okay?" He flashes you a final small smile before his warm embrace is gone and he's out the door and being whisked away with the flurry of snow that has begun to fall.

Seokjin doesn't come back the next day. Or the day after that. Even when a week passes by with no sign of him you still find your head snapping up each time the door opens or you see the flash of a red scarf.

"He's not coming, Y/N." Seulgi sighs, pushing your legs down from where you balance on the windowsill with your forehead pressed to the glass to make room for her own body to squeeze in beside you. "My dad says his family left town last week, remember?"

You keep your eyes glued to the path outside. If you focus hard enough you can almost see him barging through the door like he always does, making his unruly presence known by calling out some irritatingly unfunny dad joke that still managed to somehow make you laugh when he cracked himself up. Or grabbing your hands and swinging you around on the ice until you're both panting and laughing and teary eyed at the same time but you don't care because you're together.

And if you close your eyes you can still remember how it felt when he wrapped you up in his arms before he left and you wonder if anything he ever said meant anything at all.

Fresh snow has started to fall and just like that the boot prints he left behind are covered up, like they never even existed. Like he never even existed.

You bite your lip. "How could he leave without telling me first?"

"Oh Y/N." Seulgi rubs your shoulder. "I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Whatever." You jump down from the window, slinging your hands in your pockets only to feel your heart pang when your fingers brush up against the Christmas decoration Seokjin gave you.

You dangle the string from your finger, admiring the way it sparkles and glints when it hits the light, even when your eyes start to fog up with tears that just won't seem to disappear no matter how hard you try to rub them away.

And with that you drop it into a stray box of Christmas decorations and it's like Seokjin really is gone for good now.

"Y/N?" Seulgi's dad pokes his head into the ticket booth. You have to wipe your cheeks with your sleeve quickly, mustering up the closest thing to a watery smile as you can. "I was thinking about your Christmas gift. How would you like some skating lessons with Seulgi. I watched you today and I think you're really talented. Let's not waste it, hm?"

Present day.

"So you're telling me the kid with the weird hair is back?" Seulgi asks, though you can only see her eyes peering over the top of the cardboard box filled with Christmas decorations that she lugs out of the storage closet. Her dad asked you to decorate the huge tree that looks like it belongs out in a forest instead of in front of the ice rink, which is how you find yourself balanced precariously on a wooden ladder trying and failing to lasso tinsel over the furthermost branches.

"He doesn't have weird hair." You say through gritted teeth as the ladder wobbles and you miss the branch once again. "And his name is Seokjin, Seulgi."

"Same difference." Seulgi barely puffs before her foot slips and the box is sent flying to the ground in a wince worthy crash of jingling bells and cracking glass that bursts all over the carpet. "Oh shit! These were my grandmas! My dad is gonna kill me...hey, can you rescue the survivors while I go get something to clean up this mess?"

"Sure."

"Don't start on the lights without me!"

Seulgi disappears into the back and you breathe a sigh of relief when you hop down the ladder and your feet touch the ground again.

It takes all your strength to heave the box onto a nearby table, frowning when you open the flaps to find nothing but a pile of sparkling crushed glass where Seulgi's grandma's prized ornaments should have been. Rolling up your sleeves, you begin to remove the salvageable ones, pausing when your fingers curl around a familiar shape.

When you open your palm it reveals a small silver ice skate with candy-cane laces hanging from a dainty silver string.

Seokjin's gift. How did it get here?

God, you really are hung up on this guy, huh? Wherever you go these days reminders of him seem to follow. Without figure skating to distract you, you have fallen back into your old missing-Kim-Seokjin ways and you can't help but scowl at your own weakness for some guy who just up and left without a single word five years ago.

"Hello?" A voice deeper than Seulgi's echoes through the rink, followed by a gust of chilly wind and the slamming of the entrance doors. "Are you open?"

Is that...

"Seokjin?"

His name leaves your lips as a whisper but the shrill sound of the ornament falling from your shock slackened fingers and shattering into a million pieces alerts him of your presence.

Shit. Seulgi is gonna kill you.

You bend to your knees, desperately trying to reassemble the smashed shards but failing miserably.

"It's ruined." You have to bite your lip to stop angry tears from sliding down your cheeks as you stare down at the miserable pile of broken glass. All that is left of a happy memory gone forever.

A pair of boots stop in front of you and when you lift your head you're met with a familiar pair of gentle brown eyes staring down at you in concern.

"Skater girl?"

He's back. Kim Seokjin is back. And he's here!

In your surprise you accidentally squeeze the glass between your fingers too hard, hissing when you feel a sharp scrape against your palm. "Ow!"

"Hey, watch out! You're bleeding."

The last place you expected to find yourself today was cradling your cut hand behind the ticket booth while Kim Seokjin of all people rummages beneath the counter for the first aid kit. It's almost as if he never left with how easily he shrugs off his coat and gets to work.

"You still keep it down here, right?" You nod and he lets out a little ta da when his head re-emerges behind a box filled with bandages and antiseptic. "I remember from all the times I fell out on the ice and you had to patch me up."

When he sits down on the stool opposite you it's like you're experiencing a severe case of dejavu. He looks exactly the same as he always did yet somehow completely different; his shoulders are broader than you remember them and it looks like he started gelling his hair back, exposing his forehead. Your eyes can't help the way they trace the curve of his jaw, sharper now, and the ice hockey shoulder pads that protrude from beneath his winter coat.

One thing is the same though. The way he takes your wrist gently into his lap and begins to wind a strip of bandage around it with caution, glancing up at you every now and again to check it isn't too tight or too painful. He always was the kind and patient one after all.

"There." He says when he's finished, thumb running across your wrist just barely before you take back your arm sheepishly, still avoiding eye contact. "You should really be more careful. You won't be able to train with an injured hand."

You wince at the mention of figure skating. Of course Seokjin hadn't heard about the accident yet — he was living in a different town when it happened. But that didn't make it any less painful.

Seokjin frowns when he sees your face, mistakenly reaching for your hand again. "Does it still hurt?"

You take a sudden step back and his hand falls to his side. "No. It's fine." You grab your bag with your good arm and swing it over your shoulder. "Thanks for this but I gotta go."

A hand curls around your arm, pinning you in place before you can even take a step. When you turn begrudgingly Seokjin is biting his lip. "Did I say something wrong?"

A sigh escapes you and Seokjin reluctantly lets you go when you shake your arm free of his grip, finally taking a deep breath to fill your lungs with enough courage to look him in the eye.

"You didn't say anything at all. That's the whole problem, Jin." His mouth hangs open and he starts to stutter something but you put up a finger and he stops, retreating back into his seat like a scolded puppy. "You just left! Without even telling me where you were going! And now you're back here?"

"Y/N listen—"

"Why? Why are you back Seokjin?" The way your voice wavers makes his eyes widen.

He scratches the back of his neck almost remorsefully, avoiding the real question and your eyes. "I...I transferred. I applied for a ice hockey scholarship to play here. I was actually hoping I'd find you here, to see if maybe you wanted to go skating again sometime or something..."

"Listen, I don't skate anymore okay?" You scoff, turning on your heels and marching towards the exit. "So don't bother coming back."

Just then Seulgi reappears from the back. "Y/N? I found some more decorations — oh."

The last thing you hear is her voice calling your name before you march right out of the rink and get as far away from Seokjin and the memories and the longing and the hurt as possible.

November has already rolled into December by the time you see Seokjin again.

Seulgi's family's ice rink is bustling with locals in scarves and wooly hats, alive with a buzz of excitement that mingles with the cheesy Christmas tunes playing overhead and the smell of hot cocoa from the concessions stand as the town eagerly awaits the beginning of the annual Christmas parade, of which the rink is the central attraction.

The rink is decorated to the nines and you can't deny it looks breathtaking; you aren't a total grinch after all. You're almost sure that you've woken up in some kind of alternate winter wonderland, like you're a character in one of those decorative snow globes they sell at the mall and the whole place could be picked up and shaken until the air fills with Christmas spirit like the first flakes of snow on a winter's morning.

Except nothing about working the ticket booth feels even remotely festive. Your cheeks have started to hurt from all the polite smiling at even the rudest of customers and the sly side eyes and grimaces you and Seulgi throw at each other every time you see another kid fall over and need first aid and there's fake snow in your hair and tinsel stuck to your shoe.

You've just slumped into a heap on the stool behind the counter after dealing with a particularly lumpy case of motion sickness from one of the parents begrudgingly skating like baby deers behind their children when you spot Jimin and the rest of the hockey team elbowing through the crowd to the ticket booth.

You can't help but roll your eyes when you see the pair of dark shades balanced on the bridge of his nose that just look silly with his winter coat and the smug smile on his face as he barges to the front of the queue and rings the bell on the counter like a man possessed.

"Can I help you?" You ask nonchalantly, inspecting your nails.

Jimin turns up his nose. "Is Seulgi around."

You shake your head. A lie. She's just in the back taking her gingerbread cookies out of the oven so she can hand them out to the children while they are still warm.

"No. You've got me. How many tickets?"

"We're on the guest list, actually." Jimin purrs. "Seulgi said so herself."

You pick up the clipboard on the counter and pretend to scan the guest list, pushing your bottom lip out mockingly as you shrug your shoulders. "Sorry. Doesn't look like you are. Now that'll be ten dollars each or I'm gonna have to ask you to leave—"

"Pfft, let me see that." Jimin reaches over the counter and tries to snatch the clipboard from your grasp but you just end up in a childish game of tug of war. With a scoff he suddenly let's go and wipes his hand on his jacket with a scowl, looking you up and down with gritted teeth. "What is your goddamn problem, Y/N? Would it kill you to be nice to me for once?"

"Me? Nice to you?" You let out an exasperated sigh, fists clenching as Jimin's entourage begin to look nervous, some backing up and others tugging him by the arm to back down which he only shakes off, eyes never leaving yours like he's daring you to look away first. "You are my problem, Park Jimin. You think you can come in here and use Seulgi? Well you'll have to cross me first—"

"Did someone call me?" Seulgi's sugary laughter rounds the corner before she does, confusion crossing her features when she sees Jimin's tense jaw and the murder in your eyes. Not exactly Christmas spirit, is it?

"Let's ask Seulgi herself about the guest list, shall we?" Jimin's face lights up with his signature smile that has Seulgi heating up in a blush and you mentally face palming as you reluctantly hand over the clipboard and watch Seulgi zero in on the PARK JIMIN she wrote in her own curly scrawl, the 'i's dotted with tiny hearts.

"Yep, you guys can go on through." She says with a grin, seemingly too blind with love to see the I told you so look Jimin sends your way.

"Seulgi are you really gonna—"

"I knew I could count on you Seulgi," Jimin drawls. "How about we go skating together?"

Yup. That's it. Your best friend has been taken over by the love bug and nothing you say now will bring her to her senses as she nods eagerly and begins ticking each member of the hockey team off her list.

"...Kim Taehyung...Jung Hoseok and last but not least, Kim Seokjin!"

Hold up...

When you stupidly snap your eyes up they instantly meet the very pair you've been trying to avoid. Seokjin's.

There he is in all his glory, tall enough these days to see over the counter. The smile on his face fades when he notices you too.

"Y/N? Hello?" Seulgi snaps you back out of your Kim Seokjin induced trance, blushing when you realise you must have been staring and that's probably why he's fiddling with his coat zipper and avoiding your gaze. "Can you handle the ticket booth for a bit while I go for a skate?"

All reservations are wiped from your mind and you have to swallow hard before any words come out that aren't oh my god or Seokjin. "Y-yeah, sure."

"Great!" She swings over the counter. You stare at your feet, face uncomfortably hot under Seokjin's gaze. Seulgi takes Jimin's elbow. "See you later!"

"Have f-fun." You manage to mumble, relief flooding your chest when Jimin and his entourage become smaller and smaller before disappearing amongst the indistinguishable hustle and bustle.

Your breath catches when you finally lift your gaze and find Seokjin still stood frozen in the same spot, opening and closing his mouth awkwardly like he wants to say something but doesn't quite know how.

I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave. I don't think you're a freak like everyone else just because of your accident.

You can imagine so many different combinations of words leaving his lips except the ones that he finally croaks aren't quite what you're expecting. "Uh, I need to rent some skates. I forgot to bring my ones..."

Oh.

A few awkward seconds pass until you realise he's waiting patiently for you to do your job and get him the freaking skates instead of standing open mouthed like some kind of frozen ice sculpture that doesn't know how to function, and you turn a little too abruptly, eager to hide the heat in your cheeks and nearly knocking the whole rack of rental skates down in your haste.

God! Why do you always embarrass yourself in front of him?

"I need a size—"

"12. I know." Your voice sounds small as you turn back around and hand him a pair of black skates, freshly sharpened just like how you knew he liked them. Or used to like them anyway. "I remember."

Something close to pain briefly flashes over his face and there's another silence that feels deafening despite the screams and cheers of skaters a few meters away that fill the atmosphere.

He coughs when his hand brushes yours as he reaches to take the ice skates and you feel your eyes widen when an electric current runs up your arm and settles in the left side of your chest with a funny pang. His eyes slowly meet yours, soft and gentle and filled with stars just like you remember them. Your heart starts beating so fast you're sure everyone at the rink can hear it now.

You can almost hear your words from the other day echoing in his head. Don't bother coming back.

And when he rips his gaze away from yours, the warmth of his fingers disappearing with it as he turns on his heels and starts to walk away without so much as a goodbye, you realise just how much you didn't mean them. How glad you are that he's back here, at the rink, like old times, like you've always silently hoped he would be despite never admitting it to yourself until now.

That's why you can't help yourself when you swing your body over the counter and jog after him, with a call of, "Hey, Seokjin, wait up!"

He stops abruptly at the sound of his name and you almost crash into the back of him, grateful for the arm that shoots out and catches you before you can stumble over your own feet.

"Woah, be careful. You coulda got hurt—"

His arm is still around your waist when you start mumbling incoherently, out of breath and desperate to get the truth off your chest in this sudden burst of bravery before you chicken out and retreat to the bubble of timidity you've found yourself in since the accident.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about the other day I was just kinda surprised to see you again and I lashed out." He cocks an eyebrow when you finish, before you're spluttering, "Good surprised! It's, uh, good to see you again is what I'm trying to say — really good to see you."

There's another silence that feels immeasurable and you feel hot embarrassment caress your face as you scan Seokjin's features for any sign that he's going to push you away or tease you for being such an idiot that still likes him even after he left you and—

Then he's laughing. Deep chuckles vibrating against your cheek as he pulls you into a bear hug and you're smushed up against his chest and breathing in his woody cologne until you're laughing with relief too.

"It's good to see you too, Y/N." He says when he finally lets you go and maybe he's just cold but you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his own nose as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets like he can't trust them not to reach out and grab you again. "Really good."

"Hey Kim Seokjin, stop flirting and get your ass over here stat!"

Seokjin's eyes roll in unison with your own when none other than Park Jimin's voice ruins the moment. When you both turn and find him leaning over the barrier of the ice rink, beckoning Seokjin with a single finger, you cant help but snort at the exasperated sigh that leaves the boy beside you.

"Will he ever give me a break?" Seokjin mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose and mouthing sorry as he nods his head to signal for you to join him. Jimin offers you both a salute in greeting.

"Captain," Jimin practically snarls around the word, contempt evident in his voice despite the grin plastered to his face. It only grows when he turns his attention to you. "And sweet little figure skating champion Y/N — oh wait!" He must see the way your face drops because he can't conceal the laughter that bubbles up next. "Whoops. Did I say something wrong?"

Seokjin looks between you and Jimin with confusion which quickly turns to concern when he sees the way your fists have started to shake. His hand falls to the small of your back and you briefly feel all your anger rinse away.

"Lets just go, Y/N—"

Jimin seems to have other ideas. "Hey Seokjin! Did you hear about Y/N's little...accident?" He calls. You stiffen and Seokjin finally meets Jimin's gaze head on, somewhat curious. "It happened right here on this very rink. The day before nationals, right princess?" Jimin waits for you to nod before he continues. "I'm sure she can fill you in on what happened while you two flirt like school girls. Maybe then you'll understand why she feels the need to make everyone around her miserable. Because her injuries healed but she's still broken."

A gasp comes from somewhere behind Jimin and you instantly recognise it as belonging to Seulgi who has just skated into the middle of the battle ground. She's not the only one who looks surprised — a couple members of the hockey team flash you sympathetic looks. It drives you crazy. You hate being their goddamn reason to throw a pity party.

"Even after my accident I can still skate better than you ever will Park," You spit. "And don't you forget it."

Jimin's eyes glint with something dark and you swallow thickly. Oh no.

"Then how about you prove it to all of us, huh?" He smirks when you just gape at him, the implications of his words sending a chill down your spine. Jimin pretends to tap the non existent watch on his wrist when you stay rooted in place with wide eyes."We haven't got all day. You gonna get your skates or what?"

Get your skates on. Right now?

"Okay." You wince at how timid your voice sounds, not even able to enjoy the surprise on Jimin's face because of the fear tightening like a coil in your stomach as you let your feet carry you over to the rack of rental skates.

When you reach for your favourite pair — your old favourite pair — you find your hands are shaking uncontrollably. They don't stop even as you somehow manage to slip them onto your feet and clomp back over to the edge of the rink where Jimin waits with a cheshire grin and Seokjin and Seulgi rush forward to stop you from taking another step as soon as they see the way your breathing has quickened and your practically gasping for air now. When did it get so hot in here?

"Y/N I really don't think this is a good idea, you don't have to—" Seulgi starts, but you brush her off, determined to prove Jimin wrong.

Sure, it has been nearly a year since you last got on the ice without falling into a panic attack. Sure, your heart is racing so fast at the thought of the blades beneath your feet touching the frozen surface you can feel it in your throat. Sure, you still let yourself cry sometimes when it's late and Seulgi's fast asleep and you wake up from a dream where you're skating and you're free and then the icy bitterness of reality sets in and you remember that's all gone now.

But you're not broken right? You can't be.

No. I'm not broken.

You grit your teeth. "I can do it."

I'm not broken.

Your knuckles whiten with how hard you're gripping the barrier as you drag your feet closer to the edge of the ice.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

I'm not broken.

Your vision starts to blur into a swirl of Christmas lights and ice skates and Park Jimin's stupid grin.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the tip of your blade touches the ice and then—

"Stop!"

An arm curls around your waist and pulls you back. You let out a sigh of relief. It's Seokjin and he's holding you upright now as you clutch your chest and try to breathe, determined to stop angry tears from slipping down your cheeks.

You're broken. Utterly and completely. Jimin was right.

"Back off, Park." Seokjin barks and you're aware of how Jimin is clutching his stomach, laughter spilling from his lips as Seulgi stares on nervously.

"Why? Because you know I'm gonna steal your scholarship at the Christmas Eve game?"

Seokjin scoffs. "Because you're being kind of an ass right now. Come on, Y/N, grab your coat."

"Why?" You manage to splutter, still needing Seokjin's support as he pulls you behind him to the locker rooms.

"We're getting out of here."

The sky has faded to a deep blue-black when you push out of the ice rink into the chilly winter evening beside Seokjin.

You pull your coat tighter around your chin, unsure if the way your limbs shiver is because of the December weather or the fear still lingering in the pit of your stomach.

Seokjin's presence beside you is comforting. It brings you back to reality somewhat. He doesn't mention the earlier tension between you, just flashes you a small smile instead. "Come on. Let's get warmed up."

The Christmas lights strung between lamp posts above your heads provide a subtle glow that makes his eyes softly gleam as he offers you a glove covered hand just like he used to, all those years ago before he left. With a shy glance you slide your hand into his, cheeks burning, but grateful for the feeling of Seokjin squeezing your hand reassuringly, grounding you like lead to a balloon.

Maybe you would regret it tomorrow when you remember that this wasn't going to last and he was inevitably going to leave you again. But old habits die hard and you can't resist the natural feeling of mutual comfort that settles between you like a warm hug from nostalgia.

Seokjin pulls you behind him to join the throng of people in woollen scarves and fuzzy earmuffs making their towards the annual Christmas market your town always throws to celebrate the holidays. The entire street is alive with joyous laughter and twinkling lights, the smell of freshly baked mince pies mixed with pine wreaths soothing you instantly.

Seokjin buys you both a cup of steaming mulled wine from one of the cozy market stalls with thatched roofs playing tinny Christmas tunes. You take it from him graciously, thankful for the fuzzy warmth it provides as you breathe in the festive aroma.

You walk together in a comfortable silence, enjoying the way Seokjin's arm brushes against yours sometimes and how he always blushes when it does. He keeps looking at you like he wants to say something but doesn't know how, resorting to sipping the hot liquid he cradles between his palms instead as if to stop the words from tumbling out without permission.

You're about to tease him for it, ask him to spit it out, whatever it is, or forever hold his peace — but then you see it.

Across the street sits a quaint shop with a SANTA STOP HERE sign on the door. It's decorated just as festively as the rest and would have blended in to the picturesque scene had it not been for the thing on display which catches your eye.

Before you know it you are wandering up to the window with wide eyes, breath fogging up the glass as you take in the pair of pearly white ice skates glaring at you from behind your own reflection. They're tied up neatly with a red bow inside the store's display and they seem to sparkle beneath the twinkling Christmas decorations like they're covered in thousands of tiny snow flakes. The sight nearly takes your breath away.

You can almost hear the way the blades would scrape the ice just the way you liked it, how the cold air would make your eyes water as they carried you around the rink. How the satin interior would never rub your toes and the fur trim would hug your ankles just right.

A pair of skates like these were supposed to belong to one of the pretty professional figure skaters you could never quite keep up with when you were on the ice, routines so rehearsed they could be free styling to the inexperienced eye, silver laces complimenting their daintily sequinned bodysuits.

Not someone who only has plain bodices and rental skates and wears ugly burns on their knees from hitting the ice too hard. Not someone like you.

Besides, you promised yourself you would never pick up another pair of skates again. What is the point in dreaming?

"So..." Seokjin starts, blowing at the steam swirling from his paper cup. "What happened back there? You seemed kinda freaked out."

You freeze. Seokjin shifts. "You miss skating huh?"

You drop your eyes to the liquid in your cup. Were you that easy to read? Or did Seokjin just remember you better than you realised?

"Mhm." It comes out a little choked but you force a smile, hoping he'll believe it even if it doesn't quite meet your eyes. "But I'm a law major now. Don't have a ton of time for competing anymore."

It isn't a complete lie. You are a law major now, much to the pride of your family who always thought skating was a waste of time anyway.

But becoming a lawyer isn't your dream. It was your back up plan. Because your dream of being a competitive skater will never come true now and you had to accept it somehow. Throwing yourself into classes and deadlines seemed like the best way to keep your mind occupied, even if it doesn't make you forget your troubles in the same way skating used to.

"Sounds boring."

You shrug. "Sometimes."

Seokjin narrows his eyes. "But I know you, remember? The Y/N I knew always had time for skating. Did...did something really happen?"

You bite your lip, glassy tears fogging up your vision. God, you told yourself long ago to stop crying every time someone brought up the accident. When you wipe at your eyes harshly with the back of your hand you hear Seokjin suck in a nervous breath.

"You don't have to tell me, I'm sorry for bringing it up—"

"No! No it's okay." You shake your head with a loud sniff. "It's me, not you. It happened a few days before I was due to leave for nationals. I was practicing at the rink with Seulgi like usual and the next thing I know I'm lying in a hospital bed with my leg in a cast." You sigh, a twinge of pain running up your leg as you remember the stiff feeling of the cast. "I don't even remember what happened, not really. Seulgi said I hit my head pretty hard. Haven't been out on the ice since."

"I'm sorry." Seokjin's eyes soften and his hand hovers over yours like he wants to comfort you but doesn't know how. "I can't imagine not being able to skate, I think I'd...I think I'd go crazy."

You shrug. "You get used to it after a while." A lie. "It doesn't matter anyway." Another lie. "Besides, it's not like I can't skate, my leg healed just like they said it would. I'm just..."

"Scared." Seokjin finishes. You feel a flush of embarrassment rush to your cheeks as you nod carefully. You've never told anyone this. Not even Seulgi. But something tells you Seokjin would understand.

"I want to skate again so badly. Like with every bone in my body badly. But every time I even get near the ice I just...freeze up like I did earlier at the rink." Your head falls into your palms, self condemnation evident in the spiteful laugh you afford to your own weakness. "Ugh you must think I suck so bad."

A group of carollers stroll by merrily and you're grateful that their rendition of Silent Night catches Seokjin's attention and covers up your embarrassingly loud sniffle.

"I don't think you suck." Seokjin says eventually, blowing on his hands to warm them up. "It's natural to be scared, especially after something like that. A wise person once taught me that even the best skaters are terrified to fall. It's part of the fun."

You flash him a small smile. The accident still feels raw though and you're eager to change the subject swiftly.

"What about you? Any grand plans for the future?"

Seokjin scratches the back of his neck bashfully. He never did like being boastful. "Took a year out so I could practice playing ice hockey. You've heard about the Christmas Eve game right? The scholarship board is gonna be there.

"Who would've thought that the Kim Seokjin, worst skater in town, would end up being captain of the team?"

He punches your shoulder playfully. "Hey! I wasn't that bad."

"You don't remember falling on your ass every time I tried to show you how to skate?"

Seokjin rolls his eyes. "Well a wise person once told me that being a real skater means being able to pick yourself up each time you fall." He rubs his chin playfully. "And something about getting a cold ass."

You scoff, somehow embarrassed that Seokjin had remembered the words you spoke all those years ago. Embarrassed at how weak you have become since then. "She sounds like an idiot."

"A wise idiot."

You shake your head fondly. Seokjin's laugh is warm and it makes you feel all fuzzy, like just for a moment the cavity in your chest is full. You realise then just how much you missed it. How much you missed him.

When you drag your attention away from the skates on display, your wandering eyes catch a glimpse of the Christmas fairground in the shop window's reflection. You let out a gasp, tipping your head back to look up at the giant ferris wheel that lights up with a million different rainbow colours like a firework against the dark blanket of night.

"You wanna go for a ride?" Seokjin asks, looking somewhat amused.

"Can we?" You're fully aware of just how childlike you must sound right know but the gleeful glint in Seokjin's eyes puts you at ease instantly, a smile lighting up his features that is brighter than all the Christmas lights around you. It's enough to make your stomach do somersaults.

You furrow your brows when Seokjin suddenly takes off into a run, scarf trailing behind him in the wind. "Last one there has to pay for our tickets!"

"What? Hey!"

Before you know it you're climbing into one of the tiny ferris wheel cubicles after begrudgingly paying for both of your tickets, the space between you and Seokjin so slim your knees touch. The ride feels shakier than it looked from the ground and you let out a shriek as it stutters to life, the cubicle rocking back and forth lightly as you begin to raise into the air.

Seokjin appears startled. "What's wrong?"

You weren't expecting the ride to go this high. Perhaps your crippling fear of heights would have been a good thing to mention before you got on.

"Falling." You manage to choke, hands gripping the safety pole so tight your knuckles turn white. "Scared of falling."

"Hey. C'mere." A mitten covered hand engulfs your own. It feels familiar, comforting. Your breathing instantly slows when Seokjin squeezes your fingers tightly. "I won't let you fall."

"Promise?" You whisper, still not convinced as you watch the people on the ground below get smaller and smaller.

"Promise." Seokjin chuckles. "Hey! Look!"

You manage to lift your gaze to where Seokjin's finger points, all fear melting away like snow when you lay eyes on the view of the town stretching out before you like tiny pieces of a toy village. The location gives you a perfect view of the giant Christmas tree that has been set up in town, decked with golden tinsel and shiny baubles alongside the thin layer of frosty snow that glimmers on rooftops and church steeples like a thousand stars.

"Woah." A gasp leaves you involuntarily. "It looks so..."

"Beautiful." Seokjin finishes your sentence with a smile but when you turn you find him staring straight at you. A blush caresses his cheeks. He coughs bashfully and you're reminded of the younger, shyer Seokjin you used to teach to skate at the ice rink.

The Ferris wheel comes to a halt when your cubicle reaches the very top. You smush your nose against the safety glass. If you squint you can just about make out the ice rink in the distance, along with an abundance of skaters gliding serenely across the ice. For a moment your heart leaps and you long to be down there, flying and spinning beside them, but then you remember the accident and you sink back with a frown.

Seokjin's velvety tone beside you brings you back down. "It's because of you, y'know."

"Huh?" You blink.

"You're the reason I started skating in the first place. I'd never be captain if you weren't such a good teacher."

You snort lightly. "If I'm such a good teacher how come I can't even skate anymore myself?"

Seokjin's smile is pitying but determined. He holds out his hand as if he wants you to shake it and you furrow your brows in confusion.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah...why?" Suddenly the cubicle starts moving back down and you are thrown into a less than graceful heap directly into Seokjin's lap. "Oh!"

"Woah there..." Seokjin's arms curl around your torso instantly, bigger and stronger than you remembered them being. You're hit with the scent of his laundry detergent and the lightly minty whisper of his breath across your cheek when you turn and find yourself nose to nose with him. "Be careful, skater girl."

A flush caresses your cheeks and this time it's not because of the cold. "I trust you!" You rush.

"Promise?" His breath is warm when it ghosts across your lips.

"Promise."

He just stares at you for a few seconds before you realise you're pressed so close to his chest that he can probably feel the way your heart is beating faster than one of those mechanical Little Drummer Boy decorations.

You cough and slide off his lap into the space beside him, muttering a few awkward sorry's and instantly missing his warmth when your fingers curl around the cold metal pole instead.

Seokjin's grin doesn't leave his face until you're both safely on the ground again and it only grows when you let him slide his hand into yours after he lifts you free from the death trap of a Ferris wheel and your boots collide with the sweet, sweet tarmac.

"Good. Because I have an idea."

"Remind me," Seokjin grunts as he hoists himself over the college campus gate, the locks and chains holding them together rattling under his weight before his feet land neatly on the other side. "Is trespassing illegal, little miss law student?"

"Very." You follow his previous actions, nimbly climbing the railings before letting Seokjin lift you to the ground on the other side. "Why are we here, anyway?"

His breath is visible against the darkening night as he pulls a key from his pocket, dangling it in front of your face teasingly. "Being team captain has some...perks."

"Perks? What kind of perks — Seokjin, wait up!" Before he can answer your question, he's already flattened himself against the brick wall with a sly smirk, looking both ways before sliding around the corner like a shitty MI5 agent. You stay put, arms crossed stubbornly, before Seokjin's arm appears from the dark mouth of the corner and drags you behind him with a yelp.

"Just trust me, okay?" Seokjin starts with a smile, but not before his face is draining of colour and he's lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "Shit! I forgot about the cameras..."

"Cameras?" You squeak, following his gaze up towards the CCTV camera pointed toward the entrance a few feet away, like it's a predator waiting to catch its prey. "Seokjin! We can't get caught, you could lose your chance at a scholarship and I could get kicked out and—"

"Chill, we've got this. I've done this hundreds of times!" Seokjin's eyes flit to the ground when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Just, you know, to practice and stuff. Not with other girls or anything. Not that there are other girls! Just you. Because you're the only girl that I ever — never mind..."

A few moments pass in silence as you just blink at him  while he scratches the back of his neck. Watching him toe the dirt with his shoe sheepishly has a small smile growing on your face and all your inhibitions get thrown to the wind as quickly as your heart has started to race.

"I trust you." Seokjin looks up hopefully. "Let's do it."

He practically punches the air at your unreserved participation. "Here. Put this on." He yanks the green winter hat off his head, revealing his cutely dishevelled hat hair, and pulls the fabric down over your head roughly.

"Hey! Watch it. I can't see!"

He just laughs, thumbs pushing back the material to reveal your eyes, the fond curve of his lips coming into view when your vision adjusts. His hand pats the bobble on the end of the hat amusedly, like he's satisfied with his work. You pout. "What? It looks cute. Now come on, keep your head down and no one will ever know it's us."

You shoot a final wide eyed glance at the camera. You had already lost one dream and you couldn't afford to lose another. And if you lost it because of your own stupidity...

To your surprise, Seokjin's mitten covered hand slides into yours and its the feeling of his big palm enveloping your own that brings you back down. Something about the way he squeezes gently is comforting and fills you with a warmth that makes the December night feel a lot less chilly.

Seokjin smiles when you squeeze back. "Ready?"

"Ready."

And then, before you can change your mind, your feet are following Seokjin's as you run together in a fit of giggles past the cameras towards a back campus entrance, a funny feeling of elation fizzing through your veins as Seokjin swaps the hand he's holding so that he can use his dominant one to fiddle with the key in the lock.

"Remind me again, little miss law student." After a few tense heartbeats, the door swings open, and Seokjin flashes you a mischievous grin. "Is stealing the ice hockey coach's key so you can sneak in to the ice rink after dark illegal?"

Your eyes widen as he disappears into the dark entrance. "Very illeg- woah!"

Before you can protest, Seokjin's arms wrap around your waist, dragging you inside with him. Your hands curl around his neck automatically when he swings you around and around until you're both dizzy and spluttering with laughter in the darkness.

"Seokjin! Stop! Where are we?" You murmur into his hair when he finally sets you down on your feet, chests flush together as he backs up so that your shoulder blades press against the wall.

"Can I ask you something?" He whispers, suddenly serious. Your eyes have barely adjusted to the low light but you can tell his lips are inches from yours and you shiver when his warm breath tickles your nose.

Your hand instinctively reaches out to brush away the bangs covering his eyes, breath catching in your throat when Seokjin's brown pupils bore into your own, close enough to see the frost on his dark lashes.

"Of course," You manage to squeak, suddenly aware of how you've been holding your breath. "What is it?"

Did you miss me as much as I missed you? Can I kiss you?

You squeeze your eyes shut when his lips brush your forehead. He smells of minty shampoo and you're sure your heart is beating so fast it's going to escape from your chest any second. If you just lean up a little, place a hand on his shoulder and stand on your tippy toes...

"Why shouldn't you tell jokes while ice skating?" He whispers against your skin. His voice sounds hoarser than before and you notice the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows hard. Is he trying as hard as you are not to kiss him?

"Enlighten me." You breathe.

He keeps drawing ever closer and you pucker your lips...

"Because the ice might crack up."

Your eyes snap open just as he finishes leaning in, reaching over your shoulder to flick a switch that has the whole room lighting up before you.

Oh.

You're briefly disappointed until your eyes finally adjust, and you can't help but gasp at the sight akin to a winter wonderland before you. Strings of Christmas lights are suspended carefully over the familiar campus ice rink you know and love, glimmering like multicoloured snowflakes in the ice's reflection. The bleachers are lined with frosted Christmas trees flashing with silver tinsel and baubles that glint like river-light against the night.

You bite your lip but that doesn't stop elated laughter from escaping you, throwing your arms around Seokjin's neck, his own deep chuckle joining in when he staggers and barely keeps his balance.

"I've missed you." You say when you finally come down and you're both just staring at each other giddily now.

"Even the dad jokes?" The nod into his neck in confirmation makes Seokjin punch the air, though his laugh suddenly trails off and he starts to wring his hands nervously a moment later. "You might regret saying that when I tell you why we're here..."

"Seokjin?"

He flashes you a sheepish smile.

"Surprise! I'm gonna teach you how to skate again!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Come on, you said you trusted me remember?" You feel the colour drain from your face, Seokjin's fingers tightening around your wrist when you try to back step. "I can tell how much you miss it, don't you wanna be able to perform again?"

The memory of how it felt to glide around the ice is enough to make you shiver, a longing settling in your stomach for the cheers of the crowd as you land a perfect jump mingling with your skates scraping the ice.

For the feeling of being free again. That's what you miss more than anything in the world.

"I do." You bite your lip. "But..."

"But?"

"But I'm broken, Seokjin! Just like Jimin said."

"Hey. Look at me." Seokjin whispers when you turn away, probably able to see the glassiness of your eyes as his forefinger bumps beneath your chin. "You're not broken, okay? You're just scared."

You hug your torso. "Well duh. What if something happens? What if I fall again but this time my injuries don't heal? Or worse what if you fall—?"

Seokjin squeezes your shoulders gently and you realise that you're rambling. You trail off when you find him smiling at you reassuringly. "Listen. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's completely up to you. But if you do decide to start skating again, I promise I'll be there to pick you back up when you fall okay? Just like you did with me."

A sudden confidence grips you. Freedom feels so close again you could touch it. Who better to experience it with than Seokjin?

"Okay. Let's do it. I want to skate again."

Before you know it you're sat on the bleachers, sliding your feet into a pair of skates Seokjin retrieved from the lost and found closet. Your shaky fingers pause when they find the laces. Seokjin's warmth appears beside you.

"You okay?"

He's frowning and you realise your teeth are chattering with nerves. "Mhm. Just cold."

"You can be honest with me, you know." Seokjin gets to his knees and gently swats away your hands from your skates, his own fingers deftly stringing the laces. "I know this must be hard for you."

"I'm just nervous." You swallow.

"I'll be by your side the entire time." Seokjin assures. "And if you even come close to falling I'll catch you. I'm not captain of the team for nothing right?"

You snort and kick him with the toe of your skate teasingly. Seokjin's tongue pokes out of the corner of his chapped lips as he concentrates on tying your laces into a neat bow, glancing up at you to check they're tight enough and flushing when he meets your gaze head on. It's endearing and gets your heart racing, and not just with anticipation or nerves any more.

"Promise?" Your voice shakes.

His hand covers yours in your lap. It's mitten covered and warm against your frost bitten skin. "Promise." He scratches his neck. "But if you want to back out at any time just tell me and we can forget this ever happened—"

"No!" You quip, squeezing his shoulder. "I want to do this. With you."

Seokjin flashes you a smile and offers you his elbow. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Panic rises like bile in your throat as you get closer and closer to the the rink.

"No, no, no." You freeze up. "I can't!"

"You can." Seokjin insists, wrapping an arm around your waist as he guides you to the very edge. "Just don't think about it too much."

Don't think about it? How can you not think about it when your heart is beating a million miles an hour and your vision is blurring and you feel like you're going to pass out every time your body tells you to run run run as far away from the danger as possible?

"Look." Seokjin uses the barrier to lift himself onto the ice, sliding his feet back and forth to convince you. "I'm okay, right? Haven't fallen yet."

"Yet." You swallow, gripping the barrier to keep your balance even though you're still stood on solid ground.

"I won't." He offers you a hand. "Now come on. It's your turn."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You'll be fine if you just stand on the ice right? Baby steps.

Your palm slides into his and before you can change your mind you're launching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you simply glide straight ahead into Seokjin's open arms. Relief washes over you when he holds you tight and you're safe again, one eye opening carefully to check you're really balancing on the ice and not a pile of limbs on the ground.

"See! That wasn't so bad right?" You shake your head. "Now you just gotta remember how to move..."

Your eyes widen. "Seokjin, I think this is enough for today—"

"Wait!" Seokjin fiddles with the zipper of his pocket to retrieve his phone, removing one of his gloves so he can tap at the screen. "We can't do this without music."

A few seconds later Seokjin is pressing play on a slow track he has downloaded on his phone and sliding one of his earbuds into your ear, the other into his own. You recognise it instantly as it's the same one you used to perform to when he begged you to teach him a routine five years ago. He grabs you by the arm again and smiles, big and bright. "Perfect. Ready?"

You're squeezing Seokjin's hand so tight you're sure the circulation to his fingers must be cutting off but he doesn't say anything, just keeps his other hand protectively at the small of your back as you slowly start to slacken your vice like grip on the barrier.

To your surprise, your feet move without you telling them too, naturally gliding along the slippery surface as if they've never been away from it. Muscle memory, you figure, as you find yourself beginning to gain some speed.

"I'm doing it!" You pant, relief washing over you as the breeze hits your face. "I can't believe I'm doing it!"

Your eyes are glued to Seokjin's skates, focusing hard on moving your own in time with his every step. You feel his chuckle vibrate through you and you don't even have to look up to know his eyes are shining.

"See? I knew you could."

The music humming through the headphones reaches its pivotal moment and you've done this routine so many times you know what move comes next. A one foot spin.

A bout of fear ripples through you again but Seokjin's right there to soothe you when he sees your eyes widening as he starts to twirl you around. "Just let go!"

"Let go." You repeat to yourself, finally taking your fingers away from the barrier as you lift one skate from the ice and begin to spin and spin and spin until the cold wind burns your skin and you're so dizzy you don't know whether to laugh or cry.

You don't even notice the music has stopped until you come to a shaky standstill. You're gasping for breath and Seokjin is just staring at you, mouth open.

"Damn. I forgot how good you are."

"Shut up." You're grinning now, elation coursing through every fibre of your being. "Let's go again! — ah!"

All the spinning messed with your vision and it feels like everything goes into slow motion as your legs crumble beneath your weight and your body collides with the cold ice. All you can hear is your heart, pumping into overdrive with fear as you close your eyes and brace for the pain in your leg to begin.

Except confusion settles in the pit of your stomach when it never does. You wriggle you're toes, relieved that they seem to still work and then you're sitting up in a daze.

Seokjin's face appears over yours, eyes filled with fear as he pulls your head into his lap. "Are you hurt? I'm so sorry Y/N, I never should have brought you here, this was a bad idea—"

Exhilarated laughter interrupts his concerned rambling and before you know it you're clutching your stomach and wiping happy tears from your eyes.

You're not broken! You're. Not. Broken. And for the first time since the accident you feel free again, like all the anger and hurt and sadness inside you just melted away to nothing.

"Huh? Did you hit your head?" He asks confused, coughing bashfully when you throw your arms tightly around his neck.

"Thank you! For bringing me here. Can we go again?"

Seokjin helps you to your feet but stops you from getting ahead of yourself. "I think this was enough for today but how about we agree to meet here again tomorrow at say...3PM?"

You reach out a now steady hand for him to shake. "Deal."

The next few weeks fly by when you have skating with Seokjin to look forward to every day.

As time goes by you start to regain your confidence, the panic that used to paralyse you whenever you set foot on the ice dissipating whenever Seokjin was around to reassure you.

You feel lighter than ever, like you're on top of the world. It's like everything is falling into place again. You have your skating back but more importantly you have Seokjin. And just being with him is like you're going at full speed on the ice, adrenaline and freedom coursing through you even when you're stood still.

It's like time stops when you're together just you and him and the ice, and that's how Seokjin finds himself running across campus in his ice hockey gear, late for practice again.

"So much for being a 'good captain.' Seokjin doesn't even turn up and he gets a college scholarship?" Park Jimin rolls his eyes at Jennie who is perched on his knee. Since Seulgi cut things off with him after his little show at the parade they've been pretty cosy, mostly because of their shared hatred for you and Seokjin respectively. "It's all that girl's fault."

"Who? Y/N?" Jennie says. "Ugh, I know. She's so full of it. I swear she thinks she's some pro skater or something."

"I mean, she is pretty good." Jimin confesses, stroking Jennie's thigh when she furrows her brows, smiling meekly. "But you're better, obviously."

"I don't know." She murmurs with a huff. "I was kinda glad when she stopped skating, y'know, because it meant that I was top of the league again. If she starts competing again..."

Jimin's eyes suddenly brighten with an idea. "Then we only have one option."

"What?"

"For me to become captain and for you to stay at the top, we gotta finish them once and for all."

"I like your thinking." Jennie purrs, but not before Seokjin runs into the campus locker rooms, out of breath as he fastens his ice hockey helmet around his chin.

"Sorry I'm late! I promise it won't happen—"

"Again?" Jimin scoffs, gesturing around at the rest of the team who are packing up their things. "Dude, you missed the whole of practice. We couldn't wait any longer so we had to start without you. Without our captain."

Seokjin throws his duffel bag into his locker, slamming the door shut a little too harshly. "And I said I'm sorry." A hush falls over the room, all eyes landing on the pair locked in a stare out. "I'll go practice now to make up for it, okay?"

He's hardly through the door when he hears Jimin snicker under his breath to Jennie. "This is why I'm telling coach he shoulda made me captain."

Seokjin freezes. "What did you say, Park?"

Jimin lets out a deep chuckle, standing up and squaring his shoulders though he's still a couple feet shorter than Seokjin. "I said that you're a shitty captain and I'm gonna take your place and your scholarship at the game on Christmas Eve."

"With your technique?" Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. "Tell me a funnier joke, Jimin."

"The only joke is your pathetic excuse for a skater girlfriend," Jennie spits, appearing behind Jimin and wrapping her arm around his waist in solidarity. "Maybe if you spent more time with your actual team instead of teaching that lost cause to ice skate you wouldn't feel so threatened."

"I'm not threatened." Seokjin clenches his fists. "...and she's not my girlfriend."

"Then prove it."

The contours of his face harden, jaw tense and shaking with a desire to set Park Jimin well and truly straight clouding his rationality as words he doesn't mean come flying out of his mouth before he can think better of it.

"Y/N means nothing to me, okay? I'm just teaching her to skate again because I feel bad about her accident." A finger pokes Jimin's chest harshly. Jennie seems startled. "And you're right. Maybe it is getting in the way of my focus. But guess what? From now on I'm only gonna be focused on beating your ass at the game on Christmas Eve and taking the scholarship that belongs to me."

"What?" A small voice sounds somewhere behind him and when Seokjin turns he finds you stood clutching the red scarf he left behind at the rink.

He can tell by the paleness of your face and the way your lip quivers that you heard everything. And before he can reach for you and explain, you're fleeing from the rink in a flood of angry tears for ever letting Seokjin melt the ice in your heart, even for a second.

"Y/N! Please wait!" Seokjin tugs at his hair exasperatedly, turning back to Jimin who is clapping with a dark smile.

"Looks like you have a choice to make, Seokjin."

"Go away, Seulgi." You grumble as your blanket cocoon is ripped away from your body. You hear the footsteps of your best friend patter across the carpet to the window, the light that floods into the room when she rips open the drapes making you groan. "It's too bright."

"Come on, time to get up!" You yelp when a perfectly manicured hand wraps around your ankle, dragging you away from the warmth and comfort of the body-shaped dent in your mattress. "This situation officially requires an intervention! And as your best friend I am taking it upon myself to get your ass out of bed."

It's been almost a week since you last saw Seokjin. Almost a week since he crushed your heart like glass and stamped on the shattered remains and threw them into the garbage disposal when you found out you were just his charity case and nothing more.

And more importantly, it's been almost a week since you realised just how real your feelings were for him. Are for him.

After a small struggle Seulgi wins, despite how erratically you kick your legs in a bid to break free from her grip, and you end up landing with a thud in a pile of blankets and throw cushions on the floor. You rub your eyes with a sigh. "An intervention?"

"Yeah. It's been, like, a whole week since I've seen you leave this room Y/N. I have skating practice in half an hour and you're coming with."

Seulgi gets down cross legged, shuffling up beside you and pulling the blanket over both of your laps. When you finally blink at her blearily for the first time you see her flame-like hair has been scraped back into a tight ponytail and she's wearing a matching mesh skating outfit, clearly ready for practice.

"Thanks but no thanks." You snort. "As much as that sounds thrilling I'm good here."

Seulgi shakes her head and prods your shoulder, sing song voice hardening into a lecture. "You can't hibernate forever, Y/N."

"Can too." Your fingers find a loose thread in the throw cushion in your lap, picking at it mercilessly to avoid looking your best friend in the face for fear that she would see through your facade. "I like hibernating. It's fun."

"Fun?" Seulgi rolls her eyes. A few seconds pass before she lets out a gentle sigh, her voice softening. "Listen...have you spoken to Seokjin yet—"

You wince. Just the mention of Seokjin makes your heart pang.

"No." Your voice wavers. "And I'm not planning on it. How can I after what happened?" Finally allowing yourself to talk about it feels good and before you know it you're burying your head in your hands and letting everything go. "God, I'm so embarrassed, Seulgi."

"Oh, Y/N." Her hand rubs your back soothingly. "What really happened between you two? Why did you run?"

You swallow hard. "I just...got scared."

"Of skating again? You seemed to be doing better since you started training with Seokjin..."

"No. I was scared of..."

"Your feelings for him?"

You pause, unable to help the small smile that creeps onto your lips even despite the warm tears that have started to roll unceremoniously down your cheeks.

"How do you always manage to read my mind?"

"I'm your best friend remember?" Seulgi draws a line between your foreheads before she wraps her arms around your waist and lays her head on your shoulder. You squeeze her back, silently thanking her for being there when you need her. "Besides, it's not like you've been hiding it. Whenever he's around you go all heart eyes for him." She grimaces. "I'm starting to see why you used to complain about me and Jimin so much."

"Do not!" You grumble, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks when she shoots you an are you serious? look. "Okay fine, lets say theoretically I am all heart eyes for him? What's the point in even admitting it when everything is messed up now, anyway? He said it himself. He never felt the same way about me."

"Well, theoretically, I would tell you to just talk to him. Bottling up your feelings isn't gonna change anything. Besides, I think you still have a chance at making things right. I've seen him waiting around outside the rink after hours. For you."

You avert your eyes. Seokjin? Waiting outside the rink? For you?

"He was probably just passing by or something." You grumble with a shake of your head.

"Everyday this week?" She raises an eyebrow. "Seokjin is good for you, Y/N. You've been different since he turned up...good different. Back to the Y/N we all know and love."

"If you love me so much why won't you let me sleep for a little while longer?"

"Please, you know it's just because I need my honorary wingwoman back. Kim Taehyung is coming by the rink tonight." It's your turn to raise an eyebrow. Seulgi laughs. "Okay maybe it's because I love you a little bit. I think getting back to normal and being at the rink will lift your spirits. Whaddya say?"

You roll your eyes but Seulgi doesn't miss the curve of your lips. "Fine."

She claps her hands gleefully, jumping to her feet and rummaging through your closet. She throws a Christmas sweater at your head. "I'll be waiting in the car!" She skips out of the room, humming the tune of a vaguely recognisable Christmas song beneath her breath. You shake your head fondly when wisps of her red hair poke back around the doorframe a moment later. "Oh, and don't forget to dress warm. There's gonna be a blizzard tonight, remember?"

A few minutes later you're sat in front of your mirror, brushing the frizz out of your hair in a bid to look somewhat presentable when Seulgi knocks on your door again. You roll your eyes. She's always impatient.

"Uhh, Y/N?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" You yell, grabbing your coat. "Hang on!"

"There's someone here to see you."

Your bag drops to the carpet with a thump when you round the corner and see him stood on the doorstep.

"Seokjin?"

Well, you can't see much of him because he's wrapped head to toe in snow gear and he has a huge box in his arms with a red bow on top and there's snow all over his coat but seeing him again makes your chest constrict none the less.

Seulgi still has her fingers on the door handle and she's looking between the pair of you with wide eyes as you just stare long and hard. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to it then." She sings, but it sounds squeaky and forced as she wraps a scarf around her neck, ready to face the blizzard outside. "Y/N, you know where I am if you need me."

You manage to get out a nod and then Seulgi is awkwardly shuffling around Seokjin who is blocking the doorway and seems to have forgotten how to use his feet.

It's not until the cold air from outside starts to permeate the cosy warmth from your crackling fire place that you realise Seokjin is really here — and he's still standing outside in the goddamn blizzard like he wants to become a human snowman.

His voice brings you back down with a jolt.

"Can I come inside?"

Slanted shadows cascade across Seokjin's face as he peers through the blinds. The street outside is buried beneath a blanket of snow, and even from where you sit with your chin in your palm on the back of the couch you can see an icy flurry of flakes falling from the sky like frozen jewels beneath the glow of the street lights.

"Doesn't look like anyone's gonna be driving anywhere tonight." Seokjin murmurs. "This blizzard seems pretty severe."

You raise your eyebrow with a sigh. First Seokjin turns up on your doorstep unannounced, teeth chattering and covered in snow, and now he's gonna have to spend the night here? With you?

Seulgi sent you a text to let you know she was going to be staying with Taehyung for the night (wolf whistle) and follows up with some flirty emojis and a comment about enjoying your alone time with Seokjin which you can't see happening anytime soon what with the thick tension that sits heavy in the air.

Yeah, this could not get any more awkward, right?

Wrong.

"Thank you for the dry clothes." Seokjin gestures to the much-too-small hoodie that stretches across his torso and the jogging pants that barely reach his calves. The biggest items of clothing you could find in the clean laundry basket to replace his snow-sodden tshirt and jeans that had become transparent in some places by the time you invited him inside. If the situation weren't so tense you'd find it funny. "I thought you were gonna leave me out there all night and let me freeze to death for a minute."

You don't laugh, just keep your eyes on the dark swirls of hot cocoa you stir in two steaming mugs. He flashes you an awkward too soon? smile when you hand the largest mug to him, watching as he takes a grateful sip and sighs when it warms his insides.

A few seconds of silence pass interrupted only by the crackle of the blazing fire that creates orange flickering shadows over the contours of his face while you curl up on the opposite end of the couch beneath the patchwork blanket Seulgi bought you last December.

Finally you let out a sigh, looking at him properly for the first time. He seems worn around the edges, eyes ringed a little red as he fiddles with his fingers awkwardly. There's a pang in your chest.

"Why are you here, Jin?" The waver in your voice makes Seokjin's eyes soften at the corners. "I thought we were over. Whatever we were..."

"I wanted to talk to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Couldn't you have waited until after the blizzard passed?"

"I needed to talk to you. To tell you the truth."

The truth. Did he really drive all the way over here just to rub it in that you meant nothing to him?

"What?" You scoff bitterly. "That you never really liked me? That I was just a joke to you this whole time?"

"No!" Seokjin reaches for you, some of his hot cocoa sloshing onto his pants in the process. He retracts his hand when you flinch. "That I'm a shitty, selfish idiot who got too caught up in his own drama to see what mattered most."

You dig your fingernails into your palm and promise yourself not to cry. "Then what about those things you said to Jennie, huh? Explain that."

"The scholarship." He tugs at a hangnail with his teeth, eyes filled with remorse. "When you saw me talking to Jimin that day he was trying to make me mad. He told me that if I kept skating with you..."

Suddenly it all makes sense. A wave of relief and realisation washes over you. It feels like your heart stutters back to life and you suck in a shaky breath.

"He'd tell the coach you weren't committed and get you kicked off the team." Seokjin nods and you instantly feel guilty that you didn't hear his side of the story before, fury towards Jimin burning up in your veins as you shake your fists. "That asshole! He's been mad this whole time that you got made captain instead of him and now he wants to ruin your chance at a scholarship? I have every mind to kick him in his tiny, useless—"

"I'm the asshole, Y/N." Seokjin tears you out of your rage as he leans forward and buries his face in his hands, shoulders quivering. "I let him get in my head and make me say things I didn't mean when I don't even care about the scholarship if..."

Your mouth is suddenly dry. "If what?"

He runs a hand through his hair carefully, finally lifting his gaze to lock with yours. "If I can't have you."

It's like you've been punched in he stomach but in the best way and you want to jump for joy or squeal like a goddamn school girl but all you can do is sit there with your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

"But now I've lost you again and this time it's for good and I'm so so sorry—"

Before you can think better of it you're planting your hands on Seokjin's broad shoulders, throwing your leg over his lap and crashing your lips together.

"Mmf!" It takes a couple seconds for Seokjin to catch up but when he does he lets out a tiny gasp, chest melting against yours as his lips finally move in sync with your own. "Oh."

The way he sighs into your mouth is like he's been waiting forever for this and you feel a similar sense of satisfaction, finally able to curb the craving for him that has been aching inside you for Seokjin for as long as you can remember.

"You haven't lost me." You pant when you bring yourself to break away for a breath. "And you're not an asshole. You've been working towards this scholarship for years so—"

It's his turn to cut you off now, Seokjin's fingers hooking beneath your chin and tilting your head towards him so that he can press his lips against yours in a tentative kiss, swallowing your words in transit.

It's slow and languid, the way he slots his plump bottom lip between yours, making you melt instantly. His cheeks feel warm and soft in your hands as you cup them, the action feeling somehow just as natural as the warmth blossoming in your chest when Seokjin moves his lips against your own with an impossible tenderness.

"I missed you so much." Your eyes are still squeezed shut when he places a peck to the tip of your nose, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as he forces you to look at him by bumping your chin playfully. "I'm sorry."

You pull him closer to you, so close you're sure he can feel the way your heart is beating like a drum. "Don't be. Just kick Jimin's ass at the game tomorrow, okay?"

"I can do that."

He smirks, leaning in for another kiss but hissing when his crotch brushes your thigh a little too directly that has a warmth pulsing between your legs when you feel the big problem he seems to be trying to hide.

You gasp. "Are you...?"

"Maybe..." A groan passes his lips and he tips his head back bashfully, unable to curb his smile when you start giggling into the crook of his neck. "What? I've been imagining this moment for years."

"Then hurry up and kiss me again, idiot."

This time the kiss is hungrier, tongue and teeth tangling together as his hands tighten in your hair. He tastes like hot cocoa and you can't help but groan when his tongue languidly brushes against yours, hips starting to press down into his teasingly.

"Need more, need you — oh!"

"A-are you sure? I'm good just kissing if you don't wanna..."

"No! I want to." You promise. "I trust you."

"Good." Seokjin's lips murmur next to your ear as his fingers dig into the underneath of your thighs, the hardness in his pants pressing against your stomach as he gets to his feet and you throw your legs around his waist with a squeal. "Because I don't think I could handle a whole night here with you like this." Seokjin's teeth pull at your bottom lip and you open your mouth to groan but Seokjin's eyes flutter closed and he ends up staggering straight into the elaborately arranged Christmas tree that Seulgi spent hours decorating. "Shit!"

You both freeze, staring at the mess of tinsel and lights scattered across the ground before you're shrugging your shoulders with a whoops! and guiding Seokjin to your bedroom as he chuckles beneath you. The decorations can be cleaned up later but you need Seokjin now.

Throw cushions soften the blow as you're dropped onto the bed and Seokjin crawls over you, parting your legs with his knee and wasting no time in attacking your neck with his lips. He smirks against your collar bone when you shiver as his hands creep up the hem of your sweater and you rotate your hips impatiently against his thigh, desperate for some relief from the throbbing ache in your heat.

"Can I?" You nod and he wastes no time lifting the garment over your head and you reach behind to unclasp your bra, a shaky breath leaving Seokjin when his eyes roam across your bare breasts, sitting back against his heels to drink in every inch of skin.

"You're beautiful." A heat rises in your cheeks when he attaches his lips to your hardened nipple, lavving his tongue over the bud, a groan tumbling from his chest when you tangle your hands in his hair and arch your back, desperate for more.

"Please." You whimper, hands feeling for the waistband of his sweats when he comes up for air with a pop. "Wanna feel you."

The rise and fall of his chest quickens when your warm palm grasps him over the fabric, pads of his fingers tightening around your thigh when you sit up so you can slip your hand into his boxers, letting out a moan of your own when your fingers finally wrap around the girth of him.

He's hot and hard and heavy in your palm and your heart skips a beat when your thumb spreads the bead of precum leaking from his tip down his shaft, the slick movement of your hand as you begin to stroke him increasingly faster making his head fall into the crook of your neck.

"F-fuck Y/N." He bucks up into your fist and you smirk. "F-feels so good. Been imagining this."

"Me too." You confess, giggling when he grabs your wrist and flips you over so he can press you into the mattress again. "Can't believe this is happening."

"Me either." His fingertips run down your sides tentatively, hooking beneath the band of your jeans which are quickly stripped away and thrown across the room with a grin. He stops when he gets to your panties though, glancing up through his dark lashes, eyes ever gentle and filled with a combination of lust and fondness that you know you'll never be able to get enough of. "Are you sure?"

Your heart thumps with anticipation as you nod, pulling him down to connect your lips. "I'm sure." And with your confirmation Seokjin is dragging the lacy fabric down your bare legs slowly until they join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

Seokjin's eyes dip between your legs when you part them shyly, an involuntary oh my god slipping past his lips when he sees how your folds glisten with wetness, palm coming between your legs so you can grind your neglected clit against the heel of it while he slips a finger into your tight heat.

"Oh!" The intrusion makes you writhe, on one hand grateful for some relief but on the other ever more eager to feel fuller. The pads of his fingers drag against your walls deliciously and the pressure on your clit is just right and you feel your climax steadily build between your legs. "Wait!"

Seokjin pauses and you take advantage of his momentary confusion by flipping him onto his back, bracing your hands on his chest. "Wanna make you feel good too."

"H-how..." Seokjin starts, but then your hand is wrapping around his cock and lining the tip up with your entrance before sinking down to the hilt with a soft exhale that mingles with Seokjin's. "Fuck."

It takes a couple seconds for you to adjust to the size of him and you rest your cheek on his chest, listening to the way his heart beats uncontrollably. His fingers stroke your hair and you feel so overwhelmed with warmth that you're sure of it now; you're in love with Kim Seokjin.

"Ready?" His nod is eager and when you start to move your hips his head throws back into the pillows and you can see the way his adams apple bobs every time his cock nearly falls out of your heat before your slamming back down again in a steady rhythm.

Eventually you feel the coil in your belly start to tighten again, eyes rolling back as you lose yourself to the feeling of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust and you're a mess of whimpers and breathy moans. Seokjin's big palms come up to cup your ass, holding you steady so he can pound his own hips up to meet your movements at an even faster pace than before.

"Seokjin!" You cry, bracing yourself with a hand on the wall behind the bed. The angle has your clit grinding against his pubic bone with every upward thrust and before you know it you're shuddering and reaching your high, vision turning black as you feel your walls tighten impossibly hard around Seokjin, the action enough to have him falling over the edge with you.

A few seconds pass where your pants of satisfaction just mingle together before Seokjin is cupping your face and whispering the three words you've always wanted to hear against your lips.

"I love you." He croaks, the sincerity in his voice making the corners of your lips turn up. And in that moment you feel the last pieces of your heart flutter into his hands and you know you are undeniably, irrevocably, forever and always his.

Seokjin suddenly flips you onto your back, leaving a series of playful kisses all over your face, each punctuated by a sillier "I love you!" until you're pushing him away by the chest and snuggling up into his side instead, head on his arm where you feel so safe and warm you never want to leave.

"Can I ask you something?" You whisper shyly. He nods, eyes falling shut as he plays with your hair contentedly.

"Why did you leave without telling me before?"

Seokjin brushes your noses together. "Because I knew I wouldn't be able to leave if you told me not to go."

You smile up at him, thumb tracing his jaw fondly. "You cheesy idiot."

Realisation flashes across his face. "Wait! I forgot about the cheesiest thing yet." You groan when he throws the covers off, assaulting you with a blast of cold air as he pulls his pants back on and disappears back into the living room. His head pokes around the doorframe cheekily, something hidden behind his back as he stalks back over to the bed, eyes glinting. "I got you something."

You furrow your brows when he produces the large box from earlier, now able to read your own name scrawled across the gift tag in his messy handwriting.

"Surprise!" He holds it out for you to take. "I wanted to wait until Christmas but now feels like the right time to give it to you."

Your fingers shake with excitement as they carefully untie the ribbon and remove the lid, revealing an abundance of pink tissue paper surrounding a pair of the most beautiful ice skates you have ever seen. The very same ice skates you remember seeing in that shop display at the Christmas market all those weeks ago, except the laces have been swapped out for a pair of candy-cane coloured ones, just like the miniature ornament he once gave you has been brought to life.

"Seokjin." Tears well in the corners of your eyes as you turn them over in your hands in pure disbelief. "They're really mine?"

He nods, scratching the back of his neck anxiously. "Do you like them?"

"I love them." You assure him, scrambling to your knees so you can plant your hands on his shoulders and kiss him hard and slow. "But I love you more."

His face heats up a rosy red and he pulls you into his chest to avoid the evidence (and the cheesy grin appearing on his face.)

"Impossible."

“Wait!” You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

Seokjin just laughs. “You’re the best Christmas gift I coulda asked for.”

It's Christmas Eve and you're sat in the bleachers, eyes glued to the number 33 jersey moving swiftly around a group of defence men on the ice below.

Through the unruly cheers of the crowd you can hear the faint throb of your own heartbeat pulsing in your chest, breathing rigid as the game gets tense — there's one minute left, the score is 2:2, and the opposition is pretty good for a college team — but you know Seokjin is better and you cross your fingers tightly as you see him steal the puck.

With a sharp flick of his wrist he launches the black puck into the air. It spins a few times before it slams into the net and the crowd around you erupts into a frenzy. Your heart beats with pride as his team mates lift him onto their shoulders, punching the air and thumping his back in elated congratulations. Even the scholarship board who you can see sat in the front row seem impressed, nodding their heads and scribbling furiously in their notebooks.

Kim Seokjin! Kim Seokjin! Kim Seokjin!

Seokjin lands back on his feet and then he's ripping off his helmet, cupping his forehead, and squinting up through the harsh reflection of the ice at the bleachers, scanning every single face until his eyes land on yours and a giant grin tugs at the corners of his lips. Suddenly it's as if everyone around you disappears and it's just you and him against the world.

But the moment is interrupted when Seokjin is suddenly knocked off his feet by another body moving at full speed. Park Jimin. You know it's him because you can see his hard eyes peering out from between the bars of his helmet as he throws his hockey stick down on the ice and angrily swings himself over the barrier so he can storm out of the rink.

A cacophony of gasps sound around you. The whistle blows. Seokjin is flat against the ice. Your heart starts to pound.

"Come on Seokjin. Get up. Please get up." You cross your fingers behind your back, brushing away the searing fear that runs hot in your veins telling you to run, that he's injured beyond repair. "Get up!"

And then, he gets up.

Before Seokjin can reach the edge of the rink you're running down the bleachers, pushing through the crowd to get to him. He's breathing heavily when he pulls off his helmet but that doesn't stop the beaming smile that appears on his face when he sees you coming his way.

"You're an idiot!" You whisper into his neck when you crash into him full force. His arms curl around your back, legs wobbling in his skates as he tries to find his balance and prevent you both from falling. "You could have gotten hurt! Or worse!"

"But I didn't, did I?" Seokjin cocks an eyebrow. "Not even gonna congratulate your boyfriend on his smashing win?"

Seokjin chuckles when you shake your head and hit his chest with a pout that desperately wants to turn into a smile. His eyes soften when they meet yours and you instinctively unwind your scarf and drape it around his neck when his teeth start to chatter.

You finally give in to the way the corners of your mouth tug. "Just shut up and kiss me already."

"Gladly." Seokjin chuckles, pulling your face into his hands and planting his lips on yours.

[itsthemoofacewriting]

A postcard home

This is for the Tumblr event the wonderful @zonamievents organised, today’s prompts are postcard and hot cocoa. I picked the former.

Summary: Nami thinks she’s so smart and cunning, but she can’t pull the wool over her own sisters’ eyes. Rating: K.

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN.

I’ve never written a no dialogue story before and I wanted to try it.

Enjoy.

Snow had finally settled over Cocoyasi village. It was late this year and everyone in the village had wondered if this would be the first year that they wouldn’t have any before Christmas. It was a big topic for weeks and Nojiko was slightly relieved when it did arrive so everyone would stop talking about it. Although, it certainly did highlight a change for the better. Gone were the times of discussing Nami or hiding from Arlong and his crew when they rampaged or banding together when someone was short on money.

It was a lovely, mundane difference.

The only issue with the arrival of snow, other than villagers now moaning about how hazardous the snow was, was that it was a tough season for Bell-mère’s mikan orchard. Don’t get her wrong, it looked beautiful, snow settled on top of the trees and hints of orange poking through the white, but it meant smaller than usual mikan’s.

Nojiko’s brought out of those thoughts when she heard the crunching of shoes against snow and it’s the mailman looking slightly out of puff. It wasn’t really a quick trip to her house from the village and the snow only made it harder. But she doesn’t dwell on that, because seeing him meant that it could only be one thing being delivered and it had her skipping towards the door to meet him there.

The door’s shutting quickly after his first knock and it’s probably a bit rude, he had clearly wanted to chat, but they can do that anytime, she wanted to look at this as soon as possible. Her fingers are itching.

It had been a while since she’d heard from Nami.

The envelopes open and she’s greeted by the picture of a large Christmas tree, decorated to the nines, on the front of the postcard. It’s a generic picture but it’s normally whatever Nami can get hold of but Nojiko’s still slightly impressed she managed to predict when it’d get here and find one to match that. Their postcards could take anywhere from a month to six to get to the other.

Flipping it over, she scanned the message:

       Everything’s good. Nothing new.

Nami’s messages were always short and to the point. It was hardly like Nami could go into great detail. Firstly, where would she find the time? And secondly, information was brief so nothing could be traced should the postcard be intercepted. And that was fine, it was enough just to know her sister was okay. Also, it meant if information was brief Nami would send photos along in an envelope with the postcard and she loved those.

And low and behold, there they were behind the postcard.

They were hardly ever works of art, but they were always fun and just from those still images Nojiko knew Nami was having the time of her life. Like she deserved to. Also, it was nice to see her sister, even if it wasn’t in person.

But the photo she’s currently looking at is a stark contrast to her sister’s words on the postcard. It’s a group shot of the crew and its chaos, some looking at the camera like good models, others laughing or bickering or extra limbs were sticking out of them, but that’s not what caught her attention.

It’s the man standing next to Nami.

Roronoa Zoro.

She remembered his stern expressions well from back then, always ready for the worst and, she reckoned, hoping for it at times if the blood thirsty gleam in his eyes she’d seen briefly was any indication. But she’d seen first-hand how all of that would melt away after victory or when he was offered alcohol and would laugh at the antics of his crew. A brute with a soft heart, it seemed.

To an average person, with no knowledge of the people in the photo, it would look like nothing, but call it a sister’s intuition… and, okay fine, the trashy gossip magazines she’s been buying to keep tabs on her sister between postcards, it’s certainly not an accurate description of Nami’s words ‘nothing new.’

They’re stood close together in the chaos, much closer than what one would deem friendly (Maybe she’s being over critical, sue her), neither facing the camera as they looked to be arguing. Nami’s finger is pointing at his chest and their faces are close as they exchange words, Usopp’s next to them looking exasperated. So nothing new apparently.

She’d seen the way those two were around each other before they’d left the village and she’d quietly hoped there would be some development. She had to play it cool with Nami though, show too much interest and she’d never find out without a face-to-face conversation. But with how brief their postcards are, she’s left analysing photos and trashy magazines with blurry photos of the two of them together. One time, it looked like they had been kissing off in the distance, but the quality was so poor most people didn’t believe it. But Nojiko could spot her sister anywhere.

Was it too much to ask for photographers to focus their damn snail before taking photos?

Nevertheless it was enough for Nojiko. Flicking through the rest of the photos she was disappointed that there was no more of the two together. Nami was such a tease, dangling a carrot in front of her just out of reach. But she couldn’t be too disappointed when she came across the photo of Nami with her mikan trees… and if she squinted, was there a splash of green hair she saw hidden in the trees?

Nojiko wasn’t born yesterday, Nami’s definitely playing with her. She’d spent her childhood growing up with Nami, she knew her sister like the back of her hand. But it still amused her that Nami tried to trick her, make her work for the information. It’s so like her.

A real witch, you might be tempted to say.

Quite fitting really. A brute and a witch, both too soft for their own good at times.  

In the quiet of her little home, she went back to the first of the photos and was still as she gazed down at the photo, almost like she was trying to soak it all in. Her gaze occasionally taking in the rest of the crew, but ultimately it stayed on Nami. Taking in her long orange hair playing in the wind, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open like she’s in the middle of a lecture. Despite the expression, there’s no weight to Nami’s expression, like there used to be back then. It made Nojiko happy. That was what she’d always wanted for her, wanted her to be where she belonged- at sea, even if it split them apart.

And it seemed Zoro had a part to play in that now, even if it wasn’t one hundred percent confirmed (To Nojiko it was but try telling that to the other villagers).

With one last long look at her sister, Nojiko was opening the envelope again to slip in the postcard and photos, ready to venture down to the village to show the others. However, as she did, the items were met with resistance and when she peered in, she’d missed something else.

Another photo.

With the new photo in hand, Nojiko’s serene smile curled into something much sharper. A mixture of glee and smugness that screamed ‘I knew it!’. It was probably for the best Nami wasn’t here, because that look alone would have her back up, like a cornered cat.

There was less of the crew is this photo, only the five that had been at Arlong park and it looked like they’d finally got their act together. All of them looking at the camera, Luffy’s arms stretched around to bring them all in and even with less of them, it still managed to be just as busy.

But that’s not what caught her eye, no. It’s the arm that’s wrapped around Nami’s waist and a Nami’s head resting on a shoulder. An arm that belonged to Zoro and Nami’s head on his shoulder. Both of them are smiling at the camera, leaning into one another and Nojiko doesn’t have to read between the lines this time to have her confirmation that they are indeed together.

She doesn’t stop to stare at it like the others because she’s too giddy and excited to stand still.

With a skip in her step, she’s shoving the photos and postcard into the envelope and slipping on her coat as she made her way towards the door. All the while thinking about how she wanted to play this with Genzo, so she could get the best possible reaction from him. He’d be horrified no matter what, but she really wanted to milk it. She had to get her kicks somehow.

And, she had some money to collect from some villagers. She was Nami’s sister after all, she’s always down for some easy cash- she just has no idea why they bet against her.

.

.

.

Two months later

It’s warm, the sun’s high and they’re making good progress towards the next island. For the time being, it’s something that doesn’t require her attention and she’s just about to walk across the deck to join Robin for some sunbathing when she heard the familiar cry of the News Coo.

Looking into the sky, it circled a few times before starting its descent and Nami was walking over to meet the bird at the railing.

Unlike the normal newspaper she bought weekly, it was a sealed envelope and Nami was quickly paying off the bird, barely taking notice of the price increase, so she could quickly open her letter. There was only one person this could be from.

The postcard was simple, just a picture of an orange cat, but based on the photos that slipped out of the envelope, it’d been sent around Christmas. Nojiko and Genzo were in one of the photo’s surrounded by snow.

She looked at it for a moment longer, thinking about where she would frame the photo before turning her attention to the letter. Nami had thought it was hilarious when she’d sent her postcard off to Nojiko, just leaving enough crumbs for her to figure it out so when she flipped the card to read the message, she gave a short, sharp laugh.

Nojiko had figured it out alright.

       Nice try. Since when did you take an interest in plant life?

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By plant life, am I referring to Zoro’s nickname Marimo? Yes, yes, I am.

I love the thought of Nami and Nojiko sending little postcards and photos to one another.

As always, please forgive any errors (especially as I rushed this to post on time).

Thanks for reading.