#no idea why i decided to write in present tense that's unlike me

[luckykittysshowerthoughts]

An Unfortunate Predicament [Michael x Reader]

[ GN reader, slowburn, fluff, mildly tsundere, SFW, hurt+comfort, 2.6k ]

"y/n."

"y/n. Can you hear me?"

You can just barely make out his voice past the ringing in your ears. You open your eyes, and... nothing. There's nothing around you, just blank space. It's like you're suspended in a pitch-black void.

You quickly sit up- making note of the clearly solid surface beneath you- and look down. More pitch blackness.

It isn't like it's dark. In fact, it's quite bright- you can see yourself just fine. There's just nothing else there. Nothing but a surprisingly bright light shining down from above. You look up, only to immediately glance away. It's like staring directly into the sun...

"What happened...?" You ask.

"Ugh, really, what did you get yourself into this time..." The voice speaks again. You quickly discern it's coming from directly above you, from the light. "I'd think you'd have learned by now not to eat anything Solomon cooks, but it seems you're just as stubborn as he is."

The memory comes flooding back, of Solomon bringing yet another one of his culinary abominations over to you. It's blurry, but you're pretty sure he even spoon-fed you...

Maybe it's time to start working on my boundaries.

"Ah. So that's how I got here," you say. "But still, what happened? What did it do? Where am I?"

"Whatever Solomon put in that 'chicken soup' of his has transported you into some kind of pocket dimension."

"Great..." You groan, patting the ground beside you. Yep, it’s solid alright.

"Honestly, it's always something new with that sorcerer. He's generally a reasonable person with a good head on his shoulders, but then he'll go and cook something up that poisons even demons, or transports someone through time, or... oh, I probably shouldn't have said that."

"Should I just forget you said that?"

"Please do. Though, I'm not sure you'll even remember any of this once you're out of here anyway."

You let out a sigh. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Don't worry. I'm here to get you out," the voice responds. "Now, this should only take a second..."

You're about to point out how he completely dodged the question, but figure now isn't the time. You're relying on whoever this is to return you to the real world, after all.

The sound of someone snapping their fingers reverberates through whatever kind of space you're in, before you flinch at the piercing sound of glass shattering.

"I- what the...” The voice exclaims in disbelief.

Up to this point, the voice had this undertone of superiority- the kind that screams 'I know things you don't', that considers itself above you and any situation that could present itself. It reminded you of Lucifer, in a way, just more on the patronizing end. However, all of that is gone now- this just seems genuinely taken aback, even startled.

That same shattered-glass sound rings through the space again, then a frustrated growl before trying again.

A pit forms in your stomach. This isn't good...

"That damn sorcerer," the voice mutters, mostly to himself. "Oh. Excuse my language."

"You can't get out, can you?"

He sighs. "It seems I can't."

"Great."

"Fortunately, unlike you, I should still be able to contact the outside world from here," the voice assured. "With outside support, we should be able to be extracted from here with little issue. I just need to give Raphael the instructions."

Raphael, huh?

"Who are you, anyway? You never answered my question earlier."

"You sure ask a lot of questions, don't you?" the voice responds, tone dripping with annoyance.

"Well, for as long as we're stuck here together, we might as well get to know each other."

Your remark is followed by a long moment of deafening silence.

"...hello?"

Another thirty seconds of silence pass by, and a nervous feeling starts building up in your stomach. Is he still here? Had you crossed him in some way, and if you had, is he still going to help you out of here, or just himself?

"He-"

"Ugh. Three hours... it's going to be around three hours."

You groan, taking another look at your surroundings. There's absolutely nothing to keep yourself entertained for the next three hours. There's nothing to even look at. And you're stuck here with some strange being that won't even tell you his name. Though, you're fairly certain you know who it is anyway.

"I can't believe Solomon pulled this off, and without even trying. His capacity to mess things up is almost impressive, isn't it? Though, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised anymore. Inventing an immortality potion, fighting a one-man war against the entire Devildom, shrinking Lucifer and suppressing his power, and now somehow trapping me... sometimes I worry what would happen if he decided to use his power to nefarious ends. And the whole cooking thing... why did he even have to get into cooking, of all things? I never thought I'd have to say the sentence, 'you were sent to a pocket dimension by chicken soup', but here we are. It's times like this that I understand why the Sorcerer's Society sent a dragon after him; this is ridiculous. He really causes me no end of..."

The voice trails off.

"Sorry. I'm rambling."

"No, no, ramble away," you respond quickly. "It's not like there's anything else for us to do here, anyway. Maybe your voice will keep me from going insane."

He scoffs softly. "I'm not here to entertain you."

"Would you honestly rather just sit here in silence? You're stuck here with me just as much as I'm stuck here with you."

That familiar radio silence fills the air again. God, this guy is petty.

Maybe I should see how big this place really is. There's not much to see, but maybe walking around will at least keep me from dying of boredom.

You get up from the floor (or, what you think counts as a floor?), pick a random direction and start walking.

"You know, not many humans would just walk into complete darkness with no directions. But then again, you've never been one to take the safe path, have you?"

You pause and frown. "You say that as though you know me."

"I've been watching," he admits. "The way you've forged such bonds with those brothers, influenced them so tremendously... I'd say you're flying too close to the sun, but everything seems to be going well. I'm happy you're making them happy."

"Well, thanks..?" You respond awkwardly. "I'm glad I'm making them happy, too."

"May I ask why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, they are demons."

"And? They're still dear to me."

"Dear to you, huh?" The voice asks pensively.

"Why are you so invested, anyway?"

There's a second of hesitation before the voice speaks again. Not a long spell of intentional silence like earlier, but a simple pause. As though he's contemplating what to say, or whether to speak at all.

"Because long ago, they were my brothers." The voice answers. "It's been a long time since then. But I do still have a smidgen of care for them. And seeing you get so close with them, it... it fascinates me."

There's an undeniable tone of loneliness to his tone, one that he's clearly trying to restrain but is leaking through nonetheless.

"Fascinates you?" You ask. You pause. "...well, you fascinate me, too, Michael. That's who you are, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?" He blurts in shock.

"You aren't exactly hiding it well."

Several seconds of silence ensue, and then a weak chuckle.

"You really are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"My life is full of surprises. I try to match the energy."

"I think I see why Lucifer likes you so much," he remarks. "And, yes, I am Michael. In case you needed the confirmation."

"Confirmation is always appreciated," you respond. "It's nice to finally meet you, Michael."

"I'm sorry? Nice to meet me?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "Why are you so surprised?"

"I apologize. It's just... I would have imagined Lucifer and those brothers of his would only have negative things to say of me. I had figured you wouldn't have the best impression of me, much less want to meet me."

"Meh, it's been a mixed bag," you shrug.

"Come on. You can't just say that; now I'm curious."

You chuckle. "Well, Mammon told me how you taught him about the constellations."

"He still remembers that...?"

"Apparently," you shrug again. "He tried to teach me too, but according to Luke he misremembered a lot. Still haven't had anyone teach me properly."

"Well, hold on."

"Huh?"

Another snap echoes through the void, and suddenly you're in an endless sea of stars.

"Woah..." you let out a gleeful giggle, eyes sparkling with wonder. "This is amazing!"

"I'm glad you like it."

You're startled to hear the voice coming from behind you rather than above you. Now that you think about it, the bright light beaming down from above is gone too...

You slowly turn around, and there he is, in the flesh. Your heart skips a beat as you see him, and you remember what you were told not too long ago.

He's everything humans expect an angel to be and more.

He’s just… magnificent. He’s beautiful in the most ethereal way, with a certain grandeur to him on par with Lucifer. You can't help but stare, taking in his features, basking in them like warm sunlight.

The playful smile fades from his face for a moment. "Come on, don't look at me like that. There's really not much to look at.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you utter under your breath.

“Whatever. Let's go look at the stars instead."

He gets that starry-eyed look of childlike excitement again as he brushes past you and points at a cluster of stars.

"That over there is Orion, humans also call it 'The Hunter'. What a lot of people don't know is that each of the stars have their own names, too. Look at those three stars across the middle, the belt. Left to right are Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. Now look up from there at the shoulders, now look just east of that... there's Canis Minor. Canis Minor is... oh, I never actually told you the names of the other stars in Orion, did I? I apologize. Anyway..."

You listen to him ramble on, pointing excitedly at various stars, constellations, and asterisms. Oh, and he explains to you what an asterism was. It's so easy to get lost in his words, even if it straddles the line between coherent thought and word vomit at times.

"What was that earlier about you not being here to entertain me?" You tease with a smirk.

He gives you a deadpan look. "This isn't for you. It's for me."

"Right," you chuckle and roll your eyes. "My apologies."

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Sorry~"

“You’re not sorry at all,” he sighs softly and shakes his head.

You give him a shrug.

“I don't get it," he utters, shaking his head once more with a soft smile upon his face. "You're just a human, but you talk to me like a friend. It's like you don't care who I am, what I am. It's absurd."

"Well, I've spent quite a while sassing Lucifer and his brothers. You aren't special."

"There you go again..." he sighs. "This is how you treat them, too?"

"Pretty much."

"You really don't care who anyone is, do you?"

"Nope."

"I don't understand how Lucifer hasn't killed you yet."

"Trust me, he's tried."

The two of you share a chuckle.

"You know, one time..." You delve into a story about you and Lucifer, one of the many times you drove him crazy.

Throughout the story, Michael leans in further and further towards you, completely captivated. He looks so utterly enthralled that you just can't bring yourself to bring it to a close. One chaotic story segues into another, and another. You feel like one of one of those camp counselors sitting around a campfire, telling stories to a circle of starry-eyed children.

"With the way you talk about him, I'd almost think he hasn't changed," Michael remarks with a distant look in his eyes, a sad smile tilting the corners of his lips.

"Really, he hasn't," you tell him. "From what I've heard, anyway. He's still Lucifer."

He lets out a sad sigh, eyes cast downward. "All this time, I've thought the Lucifer I knew died when I... when he became a demon."

He meets your gaze with a melancholic look.

"Well, he's changed a little," you agree, "but he's still the same Lucifer inside. I've seen enough to know that. I'm sure if you give him a chance..."

Michael sighs. "How am I supposed to face him as a demon? How am I supposed to look at him, not recoil at what he's become, what I turned him into?"

You put a hand on his shoulder. "Michael."

His eyes widen in surprise, as he’s momentarily snapped out of his episode of self-pity.

"Touching me too, are you? You really do know no bounds."

You swear you can see the faintest blush upon his face. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. Either way, that could be explored later.

"It's how I've gotten this far," you tell him with a smile. "I've gotten where I am because I, consistently, decided to take the plunge. And I think it's time for you to take the plunge, too."

For a long moment, he just looks down at the ground, his expression unreadable.

After what feels like forever, he meets your gaze again. "Let's get back to the constellations," he suggests with a weary smile.

"Okay."

And so, Michael returns to his rambles about the constellations, wildly pointing and gesturing into his projection of the night sky. A surprised blush heats up your face as you feel a feathered wing drape around you like a soft blanket. You look to Michael in disbelief, as he continues gesturing to the stars.

You shuffle closer to him, and without looking away from the distant stars, he pulls his wing over you tighter, almost squeezing like a feathery hug. His feathers brush against you, softer than anything you’ve ever felt.

You gently grasp some of his gleaming white feathers between your fingers and stroke them. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could touch,” he weakly chides.

“You’re the one who touched first!”

“Ugh…” he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, that over there is Lacerta…”

You settle back down underneath his wing, taking everything in. He’s warm, unbelievably warm. It’s as though you’re snuggled up in a heated blanket as the two of you gaze up at the stars. You feel like you could stay there forever.

I can't believe this is happening.

However, all good things must come to an end. Eventually, you start to notice the starry sky... breaking apart. Into little tiny pieces, floating away into the abyss.

"Wh-"

"That must mean Raphael succeeded," Michael says, stepping away and retracting his wing. "When this little pocket of reality is fully dissolved, we'll be sent right back to where we were before this whole ordeal."

A pang of disappointment hits you as you realize your little moment is coming to a close.

"Oh, don't give me that face." Michael says. "We'll see each other again; I promise it. So try to remember me this time, okay?"

You give him a weird look. Try to remember him this time...? What on Earth does he mean by that...?

Before you can ask, he takes your hands in his and squeezes them gently. Just as he does, a blinding light pours in and... now, you're in your bed.

You blink and sit up.

"Oh, thank goodness! What was that about; ya really had us scared there! Don't ya ever do that again!" Mammon's practically yelling into your ear.

"Mammon, there's no need to be right in their face. Not after they just woke up." Lucifer shakes his head. "Are you alright, [y/n]?"

"I'm feeling quite alright," you smile.

"Oh?" Lucifer gives you a weird look.

"You can go ahead and tell everyone I'm fine," you say, standing up and walking towards the door. "I'm headed to the library."

Meanwhile, in the Celestial Realm, Raphael breathes a sigh of relief as Michael reappears.

"Ugh, honestly, Michael," he shakes his head. "How did you even find yourself in such a predicament, anyway? I mean, you?"

"As I said. I had to help [y/n]."

"Were you even actually stuck in there, or were you just using it as an excuse to mess around when you have work to do?"

"...I'll leave that up to your interpretation."

"Michael...! Hey, don't just run off...!"

[nicklloydnow]

“I finished “Heat 2” the other night and then couldn’t sleep a wink afterward. Perhaps this has happened to you, where you’ve read an intense book or watched an intense film or TV show and your mind wouldn’t let it go. Didn’t want to let it go. Had to stay IN the story, even when you were pleading with your mind to not do that. I sailed through the final chapters of this novel and absorbed, through sheer proximity to its driven characters, a surge of my own. An inner voltage. Rest was impossible. I wanted to get up. Rob a bank. Rob all of the banks. Rob a mint. A treasury. Invade entire countries and then deftly help myself to the entirety of their riches. I wanted to do a lot of crime, and I still do.

I also wanted to become a different writer entirely.

(…)

So it was only natural that Mann, no stranger to rehashing his own material, would want to dive back into this particular world. Where this turns audacious is with Mann deciding to make his sequel to “Heat” not as a movie, but as a novel. His FIRST f—king novel, no less. He may have had bestselling author Meg Gardiner as his co-author for this book (I will now commence reading all of Gardiner’s work), but it still takes a lot of balls to make a sequel to a movie you made 27 years ago, do it in an entirely different form, and give it the straight-up title “Heat 2,” as if this is the most natural franchising move one could make. You’re flirting with fan fiction when you attempt this kind of stunt.

And indeed, the opening of “Heat 2” almost had me concerned that this stunt would leave Mann a wet spot on the bottom of a canyon floor. The prologue is a somewhat clumsy synopsis of the 1995 film. The prose is in present tense and reads very much like the stage directions in a screenplay. It’s clear Mann is doing this for the first time (“I have no idea how to write a novel, OK?” he told the New York Times).

(…)

If that sounds complicated to you, it doesn’t read that way on the page. This is because Mann breaks a lot of cardinal rules in “Heat 2” — “show don’t tell” being perhaps the biggest one of all — to give you a crystal clear idea of who these men are and how they’re maneuvering against one another. At first, this comes off as simplistic. But once you get into the rhythm of the language, those concerns fade away and the prose feels necessary. Active. In fact, nothing in “Heat 2” feels superfluous. In terms of story, it’s the rare sequel where both the original and the follow-up enrich one another. Consume both together and you know it’s the product of the same auteur. The same vision.

(…)

Most of all, you see the work. Mann, like our best artists, is so dedicated to authenticity that he does the research of a Pulitzer-winning journalist (as did Gardiner) to nail the exact details of the story: which guns the characters use and how they use them, which cars they drive and why, which stash houses they use and what those places look, sound and smell like. That work is on the page. The dialogue and details all feel real because they are real. Everything that feels fake or needless, including the word “and,” is left on the cutting room floor. What you’re left with is pure, 100% uncut story.

(…)

I have read a small number of novels in my life that left me saying “I need to write like this.” It’s a predictable list of titles for a prep school kid: “Catch-22,” “Confederacy of Dunces,” “Ulysses,” “World War Z,” etc. But “Heat 2,” more than any of those, showed me what it takes to write a story that’s unlike any other. You focus. Observe. Concentrate. Absorb. Then, only when you know as much as your characters know, are you ready to rock and roll. That is where the nuts and bolts of inspiration are to be found. Slap a WWMMD bracelet on my wrist, because “Heat 2” shows you how this is done. It’s not easy work, but the payoff is enormous.”

“Like Heat, the novel’s narrative unfolds in the labyrinthine spaces of post-industrial global capitalism: in the cracks and detritus of modernity, in the non-places.

This is a world where high-tech consumer products sit alongside covert military weapons in the marketplace. Where shopping malls proliferate like airports, with private armies – and where the internet is just one part of a logistical infrastructure forever greasing the wheels of capitalism.

Legal or illegal, it makes no difference, the novel suggests. Only the players change. They seek investment and profit wherever it comes, supported by security and communications systems and informational flows. Mann and Gardiner are clearly awed by the ethereal, electric brutality of this thing, this hyper-object called “free trade.”

(…)

The most important medium-specific aspect of any narrative is, of course, its style. Style is the thing that converts the presentation of information into art – the expressive dimension of a work foundational to its aesthetic qualities.

There have been some exceptionally written, stylistically idiosyncratic popular novels that have been perfectly translated into film. Thomas Harris’s Red Dragon is a great example, made by Mann as Manhunter in 1986. The pop, neon-lit prose of Harris is adapted effortlessly into Mann’s high modernist aesthetic, so that reading the novel and watching the film become strangely similar experiences.

An equivalent thing is at play in Heat 2. Mann/Gardiner’s style perfectly translates the style of Heat into a radically different medium. This is no small feat.

We read prose that interweaves vivid and precise description with expressionistic, existentially charged passages. We are awed, as in the film, by the starkly drawn genre characters, by the melancholic, romantic images of solitary figures battling for survival in a sparkling but meaningless universe of complex and overlapping forces.

(…)

Mann has always been an auteur interested in what it means to be American. He studied in London, and has approached the question throughout his career with an internationalist sensitivity across multiple films and genres – from his kinetic adaptation of the The Last of the Mohicans (by the godfather of American action novels, James Fenimore Cooper), to the biopic of American boxing icon Muhammad Ali.

This continues in Heat 2, with the literary medium giving him more opportunity to explicitly think about and theorise this Americaness.

(…)

Is this as good a novel as Heat is a film? Probably not. Heat routinely features in top 50 critic lists and enjoys enduring popularity. Heat 2 is excellent, written in lightning prose with flashes of brilliance, but it probably wouldn’t make anyone’s top 50 list of novels.

That said, its near seamless continuation of the story world of its antecedent makes reading it an incredibly pleasurable experience. And many of the touches that define Mann as an auteur – a hyper-real sense of place, an interest in the brutality and efficiency of global capitalism, a sense of character through surface details – are present in Heat 2.”

“Over the course of his long career, Mann has amassed untold amounts of research into various niche topics, from serial-killer psychology to cybercrime to 18th-century hunting techniques. The world of Heat offers him a big enough canvas to contain nearly all of those obsessions, and part of the fun of Heat 2 lies in watching its authors pull ideas and tiny details from across Mann’s entire filmography. A Thief-esque vault heist early in the book foregrounds the kind of process-oriented details that Mann fans rejoice over, such as which specific drill bit cuts best through poured concrete and how to bypass the relocking mechanism on a safety-deposit box. In the post-Heat timeline, a subplot involving malware recalls Blackhat, while a segment in Ciudad del Este, a free-trade zone in Paraguay, allows Mann to utilize a setting that was originally intended for the ending of Miami Vice (2006).”

“Each new Mann project shares a similar quality: it’s almost always simultaneously aesthetically of its time, but also way ahead of things. The whole idea for Miami Vice, for instance, can be summed up as “cop show plus MTV”: a formula tailor-made for its release in the ‘80s, but that, seen from today’s vantage point, seems the epitome of retro. There’s always this long strange gap, between when a Mann movie feels perfect and when it feels perfect again: being very closely tied to a specific time means you run the risk of feeling dated when that time has passed. I recall rewatching Miami Vice 20 years after it came out and thinking it looked so 1980; Heat similarly felt extremely ‘90s a decade after its release. And, somewhat tellingly, Mann’s 2006 film version of Miami Vice, starring Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx, was a box office success—but the critics weren’t as into it. One wrote, “Unlike the TV series, Miami Vice takes itself too seriously to be trashy—and too seriously to be much fun either,” while another felt, “It can look cool. But more often, as we wait for the lightning that never arrives, it frustrates.” At the time, people felt the movie was too post-9/11 gloomy and somber.

But the thing about Mann’s work is that, while it initially ages horribly, over the long run it matures into something spectacular. A decade and a half later years later, critics are writing about how Miami Vice went from “Misfire to Masterpiece,” quite possibly the only “cult favorite” I can think of that also happened to debut at number one and make $164 million at the box office. He has always had an eye (and an ear; the soundtracks are always top-notch) for details, the things that make scenes pop. All the blue light bouncing off of white marble or glass in Heat, the blinking lights of 1980s Chicago shining off of James Caan as he leans up against a beam in Thief, Don Johnson and Phillip Michael Thomas pulling up a Ferrari Daytona Spyder 365 GTS/4 to a phone booth under a neon sign as Phil Collins sings “In the Air Tonight.” These were all very specific choices and have left a lasting impact for a reason.

Heat 2 doesn’t have to contend with that. A film version might, but as a book that’s out in 2022 and set in both the late-1980s and mid-1990s, it’s basically Michael Mann historical fiction. That’s not something I ever thought I’d type, but given the opportunity, I wish there was even more of it now. It gave me a better understanding into how the creator of Heat saw an even bigger world, but also made me appreciate a guy whose work I’ve literally grown up on. That sort of thing doesn’t happen very often.

There are plenty of other directors who have great vision, who understand the style of a moment and how a certain song can truly capture the mood. But Mann’s whole thing is a trust in his own vision and an absolute belief that little details are a must. The guy seems to operate on a creative level not dissimilar from the one inhabited by some of the great fashion designers, who know that new seasons require new trends, but that good taste is timeless. Being able to turn that into a great story, whether Heat on the big screen or Heat 2 in a book, is a trick few besides Mann can pull off. There’s sex, violence, cool cars, bright lights, and a whole lot of grit. It all works together. When a character is at the Beverly Hilton—where “everything gleams,” including the “Lamborghini and the Bugatti parked outside the entrance, placed like ornaments,"—I kept thinking, Man, I can see that…in a Michael Mann movie. I want to see that in a Michael Mann movie. And if that doesn’t happen, then I’m happy I read it in a Michael Mann novel.”

[jasontoddiefor]

Retranslation of the Sith Code from a Linguistic Perspective

Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Nwûl tash. Dzwol shâsotkun. Through passion, I gain strength. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. Through strength, I gain power. Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. Through power, I gain victory. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. Through victory, my chains are broken. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. The Force shall free me. Wonoksh Qyâsik nun.

Star Wars has a couple conlangs – from Huttese to Ryl, many cultures in a galaxy far, far away have their own words. The, admittedly, most famous conlang is Mando’a, the language of the Mandalorians. It has recently gained even more popularity due to The Mandalorian and the many headcanons about the clones and their culture floating around in fandom. While Mando’a is undoubtedly the conlang with the most extensive vocabulary, it is not the soundest Star Wars conlang from a linguistic perspective. That honor belongs to the version of the Sith conlang that was later amended and developed by Ben Grossblatt.

The Sith Code, as we know it, was developed by David Gaider in 2003 for the game Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. Grossblatt’s conlang was created seven years later in 2010.

When you consider this, Grossblatt had two options when creating his conlang and translation of the Code. He could translate the Code from English into Sith, or he could pretend the English (or “Basic”) version of the Code resulted from a translation from Sith.

Why does this matter?

[AO3]

This question is easily answered when you think about the various meanings of the words. As every bilingual person knows, translating a text from one language to another isn’t easy because there are no two languages whose vocabulary matches completely. Let’s take an example from the Code:

“asha” (noun) is translated as “victory”.

This translation, however, does not explain what kind of victory “asha” refers to. While English may have only one term for victory, a Sith could differentiate between “victory you achieved on your own” and “victory by decimating your enemies”. Or “victory” might only be one translation of the word and others could be “dominance, control, superiority”. All these words lean into the direction of “victory” through the worldview of the Sith.

Basically, Grossblatt had to decide whether the English version should be the end result or the starting point of his version of the Code in Sith.

In this essay, I intend to treat the English version of the Code as the translation of the original Sith language. This is important because it means that this deconstruction of the Sith Code will be influenced by my own interpretation of the various other meanings as possible Sith word could have, which are not necessarily Canon/Legends based. I will be translating this Code line by line and, in the end, create a new version of the Code which will deviate from the Canon one but hopefully picks up the grammatical cues from the Sith version that the current one is lacking.

TLDR: I don’t want to just explain the grammar, I want to analyze it.

Now, a brief look at the in-universe history of the Code of the Sith to shed some light on the perspective I’ll take into consideration while translating.

The Code itself was allegedly created by the Fallen Jedi Sorzus Syn. It was meant to be a pendant and an update of the Jedi Code simultaneously. While this is technically speaking fine, we do run into some troubles from a historical perspective.

The Code was first authored on the planet Korriban in 6900 BBY. The Jedi Exiles didn’t speak the language of the Sith species, which were enslaved by the Jedi Exiles. They used translation talismans, which granted them the ability to speak and read Sith as if it were their mother tongue.

…

Yeah, that’s stupid. I know. But it’s space fairy tale science fiction, so we’ll accept it and move on.

If you are bilingual, you might notice that you are more capable of speaking about a given topic in one language than in the other. Therefore, it would make sense if it were easier for the Jedi Exiles to talk about the Dark side in Sith, which was uniquely suited to speak about it. However, when the Code only exists as a differentiating point to the Jedi, they were bound to slip into a rhetoric that would be more along the lines of that they’d used as Jedi. That could explain why the Sith Code in Basic/English seems to parallel the Jedi Code so much. My working hypothesis is that the Sith Code – given that it is supposed to reflect Sith philosophy – can stand on its own with its own meaning. Otherwise, the Sith would only ever see themselves in contrast to the Jedi, which, given their superiority complex, is a rather strange view. Therefore, my translation will focus on staying as close to the original Sith language as possible.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Nwûl tash. Dzwol shâsotkun.

Now tackling that first line of the Code. The interesting part here is that Basic translates the two sentences as one. The first sentence – Nwûl tash – consists of two nouns: “peace” and “lie”. The present tense copula (the “to be”) is dropped, leaving the two nouns. When comparing this to the following sentence, we immediately see the first issue. The verb dzwol refers to “to be”. We also know it can be translated as “to exist”, “to abide”. The question that arises at this point is whether the first sentence drops dzwol or another verb referring to “to be” that we don’t know. What becomes clear, however, is that different emphasis is put on the two sentences. Many languages drop the tense copula. When the copula is dropped, the relation between the other constituents (components of the sentence) is understood. So reading the first sentence, you gain the impression that the statement “Peace is a lie” is a fact of life. “Peace = Lie” would be a mathematical way of writing it down.

Another critical thing to mention here is that Sith, as far as we know, doesn’t make use of determiners (a/the), and as such, the statement could possibly also be read as “The peace is the lie” or “A peace is the lie” and so on. But given that we do not have any information on the grammar in that aspect, I will not elaborate any further.

Now, let’s take a look at the second sentence by comparison. Here we have an explicit present tense dzwol. Unlike the rest of the Code, this sentence follows the VSO word order. Given that the rest of the Code uses topicalization, we can conclude that the verb dzwol is the focus of this sentence. Given that we are also given the translations “to exist, to abide”, perhaps it would be a more appropriate choice to use one of these words when translating to properly show the difference between the omitted present tense copula and the explicit one here.

Following this, we have to deal with shâsot and -kun. -kun refers to the adjective “only” and modifies the noun. shâsot is interesting because we are given the translation “passion” in the Code. The vocabulary list, however, translates it as “struggle”. While both have overlapping meanings, I would argue in favor of the “struggle” translation.

“Passion” stems from the Latin “passio” meaning “suffering, enduring”. Nowadays, it is used­ in Christianity to describe the suffering of Christ, but also, citing Merriam-Websters here, “the state or capacity of being acted on by external agents or forces”, as well as being motivated/moved by intense emotions. However, “struggle”, is defined as “to make strenuous or violent efforts in the face of difficulties or opposition” and “to proceed with difficulty or with great effort”. Given that the first sentence of the Code refers to the idea that peace doesn’t exist, I believe an emphasis on the aspect of fighting, which we find in “struggle”, would be appropriate.

Personally, I’d prefer “to exist” over “abide” for the verb as well. “abide” may imply that only the struggle has to be endured. I’d favor a reading that instead emphasizes the contrast that the absence of peace means the presence of nothing but struggle. My translation of the first line of the Sith Code would therefore be:

Peace is a lie. Only struggle exists. Nwûl tash. Dzwol shâsotkun.

Now we can consider the next line: Through passion, I gain strength. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk.

Before we can tackle the translation, we have to consider three grammatical construction.

Sith is typically VSO (Verb Subject Object).

Sith has instrumental case, which is marked on the noun with -jontû. Generally, this is translated as “by” or “with” or “using”.

Sith has alethic verb mood, which is marked on the verb with -atul. Alethic mood refers to “the truth in the world” as opposed to epistemic mood, which is “the truth in an individual's mind” (epistemic). While this differentiation is not without criticism, given that all truths in the world are filtered through our perceptions of the world, it is interesting to note that Sith apparently does make this difference.

Now that we have considered these, I will break down the second sentence. The first thing I have to mention is that this sentence and the following ones are topicalized. Shâsotjontû is the word shâsot in instrumental case. As before, I prefer the “struggle” translation. The instrumental case itself is translated as “through” which is an interesting choice as that is not a standard translation. I’d instead go with the “using” translation as it further highlights that a Sith utilizes whatever tools they deem necessary and needed. Objects and people are measured against what value they have for a given person, how useful they are if you want to spell it out. Furthermore, it highlights that the Sith, at one point, actually discussed the Code and the “best” way to use the Dark side.

The verb châtsatul is in alethic mood and translates to “gain”. This, again, also fits well with the “using” translation of the instrumental case. The subject of this sentence is nu the first person pronoun “I”. tyûk translates to “strength”. Here we run into the previously elaborated victory problem as well. The Code gives us no explanation of what kind of strength is meant here. The idea that it’s only physical strength is, of course, ridiculous. It could also cover mental strength and strength in the Force, as well as the words “might”, “courage”, “durability” and so on. This issue concerning the lack of vocabulary will continue to follow us through the complete translation of this text. As I have now elaborated on it twice, I will only make references to it in the future, with perhaps here and there a suggestion for a more appropriate translation.

My translation of the second line, taking -atul into consideration, would therefore be as follows:

Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. Using struggle, I necessarily gain strength.

Now we can turn to the third line: Through strength, I gain power. Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan.

The only new word here is midwan, which is translated as “power”. Again, the definition of power in this context isn’t clear. The translation of this line would be:

Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. Using strength, I necessarily gain power.

We can now turn to the next line: Through power, I gain victory. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha.

I already elaborated at length on the various possible definitions of “victory”. I, personally, prefer a reading that equals “victory” to “dominance”. What I also thought was interesting here is that the morpheme “asha” appears to be very common in Star Wars across cultures and languages. There are multiple people named with variations of that morpheme. And then, of course, there is also the planet Ashas Ree, which is deep in the territory of the former Sith Empire and had a Jedi Temple built on top of a Sith Temple. Ashas Ree could be the Basic version of a Sith term. While we do not have the word “Ree”, phonologically, it would be pronounced /riː/, and Sith has the consonant /r/ and the vowel /i:/.

A side note about Sith phonology: Sometime between the Jedi Exiles taking over and the Prequels era, the Sith lost the vowel /e/ or /ɛ/ as the Sith of that time still had words like “jen” meaning “shadow”, “dark”, and “hidden”. As this word, and others making use of it, are apparently still in use today, their vowel probably changed to /i/, /æ/, or /aɪ/. Or maybe the word “jen” is pronounced as it once was as English/Basic does have these vowels, and people can therefore say “jen”.

Returning to our translation, we can read:

Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. Using power, I necessarily gain victory.

And now we’re going to look at a line that made me cry:

Through victory, my chains are broken. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak.

Once more, before we can actually look at the translation, we have to look at the grammar. This is the breakdown Ben Grossblatt made of that sentence:

Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. Victory+INSTR break+ERG+LG INAM OBJ chain my+PL. Through victory, my chains break.

INSTR refers to instrumental case I already elaborated on.

ERG refers to Ergative. The interfix -win- is added to a transitive verb to indicate ergativity, meaning that the grammatical subject of that verb is its semantic object, while the true semantic agent remains unexpressed.

LG INAM OBJ means “large inanimate object”. This refers to the fact that the verb kots is part of a group of verbs called “handling verbs”. These verbs mark what kind of object is affected by them. -ot is the marker for “large inanimate object”. When searching for languages that use these “handling verbs”, Navajo was one of the first results.

Sith plurals appear to be marked on the articles or, given the lack of such, on the possessive markers: nuyak is therefore “my” and “the object I possess is plural”.

Now that we have tackled the grammar, I will elaborate on how it applies to this sentence. The ashajontû construction should be well-understood by now, so I will not linger on it.

Interesting is here that the possessive marker nuyak also indicates the number of the possessed object. In a way, this enhances the claim on the object as it is more intrinsically connected to it. The possessed object here is itsu, the “chain”, which only gains its plural through the possessive. It would be interesting here to know what the other verb markers are as “chains”, in this context, are categorized as physical objects. At the same time, their meaning is obviously meant to be metaphorical. Knowing whether Sith can make the difference and might choose to do so here would be beneficial when analyzing this line. However, evoking the image of physical chains here, which are broken, makes the act seem more striking.

And now we’ll tackle the verb. The root kots gets inflicted twice by the ergative marker and the object marker. According to Grossblatt, it can be read as “completely shatter” or “completely break”. As the purpose of the object marker -ot has already been elaborated on, I will now focus on the ergative marker.

Ergativity is one possible way of hiding the concrete agent of action without passivizing the sentence. Consider “The window broke” vs. “The window was broken” vs. “I broke the window”.

This makes the overall translation of the sentence rather interesting. The original translation reads “Through victory, my chains are broken” which is passive and not ergative. Therefore, it would be more correct to follow Grossblatt’s reading of “my chains break completely”. Still, the fact that we do not have an overt agent here makes this sentence quite interesting. While the method – ashajontû – is known, the agent could be either the speaker themself, or another person doing it for them. Given that the adverb “completely” is added to the verb, perhaps this sentence suggests that on your own, you can come quite far breaking your chains but not reach that finalized step. For that, you need victory.

Furthermore, this offers an interesting perspective on the Sith and their teachings, especially on the Banite Sith, if you read “victory” as something closer to “dominance”. In this case, the sentence almost seems to imply that by becoming stronger and surpassing another person, perhaps your Master, you manage to break your chains completely. An even deeper reading might allude to how the Sith conceptualize the chains that keep them. They appear to put their own freedom and thirst for power above everything else. Perhaps that is already too much interpretation for one line, but it was worth noting. In any case, my translation of that sentence is:

Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. Using victory, my chains break completely.

After this heavy sentence, we only have one left!

The Force shall free me. Wonoksh Qyâsik nun.

This sentence is relatively uncomplicated. nun is the accusative pronoun “me” and Qyâsik is the Sith word for Force. wonoksh is the word for “to free” in future tense. The future tense is marked by -oksh and this is the part where we get to the slightly complicated/annoying part of the sentence.

Again, we don’t know if this is the only future tense Sith has or what its exact purpose is. As opposed to English, which technically speaking only has the tenses “past” and “not-past”, Sith marks a definite future. However, this future could also have undertones such as an imperative mood. Sadly, we don’t know anything about it. Now for the future tense. As inquires across the globe have told me, “shall” is pretty outdated. In a modern translation of the Code, you’d probably say:

Wonoksh Qyâsik nun. The Force will free me.

But that detail is relatively minor. Now that I have broken down every line of the Code, let’s put it back together.

Peace is a lie. Only struggle exists. Using struggle, I necessarily gain strength. Using strength, I necessarily gain power. Using power, I necessarily gain victory. Using victory, my chains break completely. The Force will free me.

Does this Code sound better than the original work? Probably not. I have to say, I do prefer the “struggle” translation and I like the first line more in my version, but otherwise, this Code doesn’t sound particularly great. However, it was also not meant to sound good. The purpose was to create a translation closer to the Sith language version, to reverse-engineer it if you want. I do think that this endeavor was worthwhile as, for me, it has shed some more light on the thinking of the Sith.

And also this:

Sources

Star Wars: The Sith

Sith Language

Speak like a Sith article

Sith Code

Ben Grossblatt’s breakdown of his translation

Sorzus Syn, author of the Sith Code

History of the Sith Dynasties

Wookiepedia Search of asha

Translation talisman

Ashas Ree

Temple of Ashas Ree

Grammar

Zero copula

Merriam-Webster on passion

Merriam-Webster on struggle

Alethic modality

Navajo Handling Verbs

Navajo Classificatory Verbs

Ergativity

Instrumental case

Color Coded Version of this Essay

[thesunshinebunny]

It’s Show Time

I made this request several months ago and I had many comments wanting a second part with the song More (K/ DA) and since the problem with the publications is now fixed, I think it’s a good time to write it once and for all before returning to the orders.

In this second part, reader is fused with Evelynn and Seraphine, you’ll understand what I mean.

I hope you enjoy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VTkBuxU4yk

Days, weeks without the leaders knowing anything about your new singing career. Since you got off the stage that beautiful day, dozens of record producers, even audiovisual managers were at your feet asking, imploring you, to give them a chance in their agencies. After long days and millions of messages per hour, which they played as background music in Mr. Trein's classes, you decided to give this new career a chance in a completely different world from the one you were used to.

Weeks since you last told them about a new song that was being produced with three more members, it seems you were going to be part of a group band, but you didn’t delve much on the subject for confidentiality reasons. The only thing you could tell them is that, in a couple of weeks, and the famous day finally coming, a music video with the respective band was going to be released.

Leona and Riddle weren't very excited. Let's see, don't get me wrong, Leona was very proud with all the little act you put on on stage, you even made Vil himself shut his mouth, 1000 for the effort, not just anyone does it. But he wasn’t very "into" in your music career. Yes, he was happy that you found something to distract you from all these catastrophic events at school, but other than that ... nothing more. Instead, Riddle… he doesn't know much about this whole world, he had an idea, and he was happy that you could meet other people outside of school. Perhaps he would be more excited by the time he waych the music video.

And like I said before… the famous music video release day had arrived.

The leaders were having a routine meeting, almost nothing interesting and very little to report, maybe a few complaints from the cafeteria or flight classes, but as I just said, nothing important. The mirror chamber was on the verge of being clear, faces of exhaustion and disinterest poured out of the doorway when a whirlwind of five multi-colored heads arrived to collapse the seven dormitory leaders.

"Care to explain what this outrageous come for?" Riddle was about to turn his trademark color as he saw his two residents sprawled on the floor after colliding with Kalim and Idia's tablet.

"Wooow, that happened so fast, my head hurts" Azul held out his hand to the white haired boy and helped him stand up, while the tablet flew off and floated in the middle of the room as usual.

Leona and Vil looked at the scene with contemptuous looks, just as their irritation was clearly evident at being pushed by their residents. As for Malleus, who hallelujah had been notified at once about the leaders' meeting, he simply deigned to observe the scene in a mocking way, but never disrespecting his classmates; a little giggle and he was composed again.

"It's out!!" Ace and Deuce jumped off the floor and faced the crosshairs of their dorm leaders. Ace continued to take out his cell phone and enter the conversation he had with you, clicking on the link you sent him a few minutes ago.

"What went out?" Azul, intrigued by his comment, approached the redhead, except that he ended up being dragged out of the room. Each freshman grabbed the arm of their respective leader and led thm into a classroom with audiovisual projectors ... except for Sebek, he simply asked his young master to follow him. In all this tumult, Ace connected his cell phone to a projector, revealing a black screen on a white canvas in the middle of the classroom. The seven leaders were completely lost, some even wondered why they had followed them, ahem… Leona more than anyone.

Now, with the cell phone connected, the speakers at full volume and each participant sitting in a chair, trying to be as comfortable as possible in their pompous suits, and with the lights off, Ace gave play and music began to reverberate throughout room. Multiple vibrant colors invaded the vision of everyone present, shapes, figures and objects began to come out of nowhere and a voice dislodged them all.

Akali that girl, 'kali go grr 'Kali don't stop,' kali don't skrrt 'Kali got a job,' Kali go to work 뜨거워 언제나, don't get burnt

The first to appear on the screen, the origin of that unknown voice was a girl with an incredible blonde hair, long and in a ponytail, which if were loose, it would’ve reach the floor. The faces of most of the boys showed confusion, it was obvious that they didn’t know her, much less had you talked about her in one of those short conversations about the video clip. The only ones who knew who this girl with violet eyes was, which matched her purplish top with sparkling blues and a shorts that barely covered her butt, were Vil, Idia and surprisingly Ace.

Without giving many explanations, avoiding distracting others from the girl's movements, Vil commented aloud, seeing Kalim's face when he didn’t understand why he wasn’t seeing one of his great friends first and foremost in the video clip, that the girl was from a female-only academy, much like NRC.

All I'll ever know is life up on a throne 시작 하면 끝 을 보는 거야 You want More

Everyone turned to see the others, even Leona raised his ears when he heard your voice appear for a fraction of seconds, to end up combining with the voice from another girl. This second girl was one of tall build, pale skin with red eyes and bicolor white and blue hair; Unlike the first, she was already known within the music industry but she had never recorded a video clip with another person.

In the middle of the shots of her, Deuce saw your profile hiding behind a mural, even some shots of your hands playing or ... moving your fingers in the air. With the chorus appearing on the screen, tension began to build in the environment. Why weren't you showing up? The directors gave you the ugly eye and left you behind? Why weren't you dancing with the other members?

During the chorus, no matter how high it was, the guys could hear your voice. It was there, it was in complete harmony with the other voices, but at the same time, you weren’t there. For some it was going to sound a bit embarrassing to admit, that they could discriminate your voice from any other, even in the midst of a crowd of people. Azul and Idia had found a video of your little recital and had downloaded it for…the great seven know for what; perhaps to have it in loop for hours. Even Malleus was getting impatient not seeing you on screen, not seeing you enjoying yourself like the other members were showing it.

When I go, it's for gold Yeah, they cool, but I'm cold I don't fit in the mold I'm a rebel

The video now showed Neige walking down a large red carpet, having people asking for photos and autographs, aside from reporters and paparazzi taking photos. And besides, couldn’t miss the bodyguards, scaring off every crazy fan who threw themselves on him. Throughout that walk, Neige was dedicated to signing autographs left and right, never stopping to look at people. Perhaps the aesthetic they wanted to give him was from a famous and megastar, but seeing this brunette so ... carefree made Vil tense.

As much as the events of the NRC’show have remained in the past, one doesn’t simply forget their rivalry, and much less now that he had to see how his greatest rival, both in modeling and now in music, was part of his first video clip with the person who refused to participate in his musical group. Yes, Vil was dealing with serious problems of guilt and regret.

What's higher than the top? That's me Come take a look before falling at my feet

Again, the only thing the camera showed was your profile, hiding and appearing behind murals. For the last time you came out behind a marble figure, the camera made a 180 ° turn, starting from your back, but it didn’t end on your chest, it was in a downward movement, until it ended at your feet, just at that your sentence ended and your body was left squatting on the reflective floor.

At this point you could see the despair of Kalim and Riddle in their eyes. They were both sitting in their chairs and leaning forward, hoping that they could see your appearance more clearly, but each time your profile appeared, the camera would turn to another objective. Both boys had their hands fisted over the edges of their seats, while their body jerked back involuntarily when their expectations were not met.

All I'll ever know is life up on a throne

Again, the camera avoided having a complete shot of your body. This time, what looked like an aerial view of the studio, or whatever that black room was with blue, light blue and purple lights, began to spin on itself, without turning on your body, at the same time each time it approached your back. At the moment of collapse, you made an almost imperceptible movement, turning around and hitting the camera with your open hand and sending it flying into another space, again changing the perspective and the person as the center of attention.

Jack was wagging his tail at all times, he was undoubtedly enjoying the video clip, both the aesthetics and the melody. Obviously, he wanted to see you even more on screen, but inside he knew that at some point you were going to appear, even to blow up the whole video.

Again the chorus appeared, like the first time, you didn’t appear, no matter how many changes of perspective there were. It is as if the most famous people, or at least with the greatest recognition, were predisposed to have more camera time. Even Malleus was beginning to grow impatient. He had seen you happy weeks ago and he could see the excitement in your eyes when you told him about the video clip when the idea was still starting. He wanted to see you more, just like everyone.

The screen went black, and in a moment of great tension, doubt and nerves, the boys thought the clip was over. Ace and Deuce were about to bolt, ready to beat up and kill the record company that had "hired" and duped you, but a little glint and a hand hovering over a window stopped them in their tracks.

Way out 感觉 犹如 海浪, on the wave now 不断 往前 遨游, never weighed down This is how I do it every day, wow, wow

And finally… finally, you appeared in your great splendor. Your hand lightly decorated with a blue ring chained to your wrist was the starting point for a great sequence shot towards your body, revealing your arm covered with a semi-transparent black mesh jacket with purple and light blue highlights, and ending in a black top, purplish with pink and sky blue iridescent patterns. And your face… woow, your face made up like a rising star, cold-toned glitters and shadows, silver pearls around your eyes, and shiny pink lips.

Everyone, absolutely everyone was stumped. Your way of singing, the movements that enchanted the camera, the warm tones that came from your lips; your simple presence blended with the aesthetics of the video. Even singing in Chinese was a nice touch to throw off anyone hearing and / or watching this show.

Kalim, finally seeing you, let out a cry of joy and clapped as he had never done it before at one of his parties. Riddle was proud and couldn't help but smile to see you shine. Leona smirked when no one was looking at him, watching as your head fell into contact with a bed and your whole body merged with the objects and the predominant aesthetic.

More Know I got it, so here you go You look like you could use some more Know I got it and never runnin' low

Your walk towards a large illuminated door, ending up turning around and appearing in the middle of a room with the other members to give the last chorus, left everyone excited. They had already seen your movements and the way your body moved to the rhythm of the music, as if you didn’t have a skeleton, but watching you dance on the big screen, with a musical group, having better and closer shots was another different experience completely. 

Let's say also, there was a bit of jealousy on the part of the boys when they saw some shots showing you with the other members, interacting and being very touchy. Your smile, as beautiful as it was, that someone else, outside of NRC, was responsible, made the boys' blood run hot.

Never givin 'less and that's how it'll stay You know I got it like all day, all the time

The room was silent for a few seconds, ending in cheers and applause from the first years. Ace disconnected his cell phone and was ready to make a video call when a message notification echoed off the walls. The guys gathered around the device and read the message, your message.

"Get ready, I'll get more;)"

[midnightsconspiracy]

Office Romance?

Office Romance? - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: It's Mouse’s first day in the 21st district. Jay introduces him to the whole team, except you who seems to always be out until you finally meet at Molly’s and completely hit it off

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2193

Requested: Nope but my requests are currently open

A/N: This is my first time writing for Mouse and the longest fic I’ve written, so hopefully everyone likes it! :)

Masterlist

It was Mouse’s first day in Intelligence, it was finally the day that he was going to turn his life around. No longer living in sketchy areas and gaining felonies but instead becoming a legit member of society and working for a reputable institution, the Chicago police department. He had been recommended to the boss by his friend and former military buddy Jay Halstead, who unlike himself, had managed to get a proper holding in society after being discharged from the Rangers. This was finally his chance to show Jay and everyone else who cares about him that he could do something else good with his life and that he was more than just his time in the military.

Meeting Jay outside the district, the two men embrace in a warm hug, briefing saying their hellos and reminiscing on old times before they ascended the stairs. They pasted Sergeant Platt, Jay giving her a small hello in which she ignored and Mouse, despite having only met her once, gave her a polite smile. Punching in the passcode alongside his handprint, he unlocked the door climbing the second set of stairs up to the place he would call ‘home’ for hopefully years to come. Reaching the top Jay paused, Mouse quick to follow his actions.

“Guys this is Mouse, Mouse this is the Unit. That’s Dawson, Lindsay, Olinsky, Atwater, Nadia, and Sergeant Voight’s in his office.” The people in the room all averted their gaze from their own individual work, with Voight even exiting his office to greet him as well, to greet the newest member of the team, all presenting him with a momentary smile, short greeting, or handshake.

“Oh and Y/LN and Ruzek are currently out chasing up a lead right now but should be back soon,” Jay quickly followed up, trying to familiarise his buddy up with as much as possible to make him as comfortable as he could, knowing mouse struggled with rejoining society.

“Ok-k, well it's good meeting everyone, and I hope I can be of assistance to you all,” he mumbled out nervously, he admired Jay and Voight for giving him this opportunity but it still didn’t stop the feelings that they had a level of superiority over him due to their jobs. Taking him downstairs to his own tech room, he prompted Mouse to take a look around to get accustomed to his surroundings.

“What do you think buddy?

“I think it will do the job just fine,” he smiled back to jay reassuring him that he could do this.

“Ok, well if you’re all good I’ve got work to do myself,” Jay announced before turning and leaving Mouse to his own devices, finally leaving him to prove himself worthy.

—————

Mouse’s day was hectic, to say the least. Members of the team were constantly in and out of the tech room or calling him, getting him to give them vital information as quickly as he possibly could. But he thrived in the conditions present, what previously was extreme anxiety when he first entered turned into adrenaline. He hadn’t experienced such a high-intensity situation since his time at the Rangers, but he loved it. The Rangers was the place he felt most at home and alive, but the ‘accident’ had caused him to be honourably discharged. He wanted to be back in Afghanistan with Jay and his other military buddies desperately, feeling as though he had a place there, that he was actually contributing something good to the world, but this would do for the time, this was the best thing for him right now.

From what he could figure out, the unit was dealing with a human trafficking case in which multiple girls were found dead by the Docks, thrown into a container, and starved to death. Pulling up the names of multiple different men, he stared into their eyes as the pictures came up on his screen and felt no remorse for them as he heard each man be dragged into the cage one by one. The team managed to successfully find lead after lead, deciding to either all roll out together or keep sending Ruzek and Y/LN out. It was already about halfway through the day and Mouse still had not met the said people, only occasionally hearing their voices or being told to send them the information he was finding.

—————

As the day further progressed things started to flatline, leads found previously being a bust and nobody seeming to find anything worthwhile. The whole team worked tireless upstairs as Mouse found them the material they needed downstairs. Finally, after an hour of absolutely nothing, Dawson managed to get vital information from a CI and so a feasible lead was afoot. As the others were gearing up and getting ready to finally make some arrests, Jay popped his head into Mouse’s tech cave.

“Mouse I need you to send me the information on Spencer Phillips ASAP,” he was just about to walk out when he turned his head slightly to utter a few final words to his friend,

“And good job buddy, we really appreciate it.” Mouse smiled as he looked up the information for Jay, maybe he was going something good for the world, especially if his dearest friend thought so.

—————

The lead had been successful and two arrests of notable people in a human trafficking ring were arrested. The case was not fully closed, the organisation still up and running, but the perpetrators of the murders were put away to never see a day in the sun again. That was enough for Voight to warrant the members of his team a break to go home, rest and in the younger detective's case visit the local bar, Molly’s. Coming back up to the main room Jay greeted Mouse, patting him on the back for a job well done, he had underestimated his friend, thinking that he may struggle with his job just as he had coped with his anxiety and PTSD after coming back from the Middle East. Walking further into the room Mouse finally got to see the infamous man who had manage to evade his line of sight for the whole working day, Adam Ruzek. Approaching him he finally got to introduce himself.

“Hi, it's nice to finally meet you”

“Yeah, you too Mouse, I feel like I’ve been swept off my feet the whole day, you coming to Molly’s”

“I wasn’t planning to but sure why not?” Mouse had a vague idea of what Molly’s was, Jay sometimes talking about the bar run by first responders, but he was excited to finally see it for himself. Turning to Jay, who was packing his stuff up at his desk, he assumed he would want to go to the bar alongside the rest of the team,

“Molly’s then?” He smirked knowing Jay would never turn him or drinking down,

“Of course.” Leaving the district together, the two guys headed in the direction of the bar relieved to finally get away from work and have some downtime. Unbeknown to them you were in the changing room with Kim chatting away, excited to go for a drink and ready to go upstairs to meet the new tech guy. Little did you know you would be very disappointed when you did so.

—————

Arriving at the bar the men settled into the unit's usual booth at the back of the bar, flagging down Hermann to get two beers so that they could finally unwind from a long day of stressful events.

“The rest of the team should be here shortly, but how was your first day buddy, tell me all,” Jay asked hoping that his friend liked the position so that he could work towards becoming an outstanding member of the community and chuffed that he was working alongside his best friend once more.

“It was good man, I don’t really know what else to say about it. Um..I finally felt as if I was doing something with myself, I felt that adrenaline I missed from the Rangers, but I miss it, the thrill, the relationships, everything really Jay.” Jay sighed not knowing what to say, annoyed at his friend for missing it, he had spent so long trying to pull Mouse out of that bad place, a constant cycle of anxiety, depression, and PTSD, that it hurt him that he wanted to go back. The tense situation was interrupted by the rest of the team arriving, taking up the rest of the room in the booth with Erin snuggling up to Jay and Adam getting up to buy a round for the table. All the usual suspects were there enjoying themselves, except one, you.

You had gone home to shower and get out of your work clothes before making your way to meet the rest of the team for some rest and relaxation, maybe nestling a few beers throughout the night. Making your way into the bar, you passed members of firehouse 51, making small talk with them before moving towards Hermann to get yourself an alcoholic beverage. Thanking him you turned to walk over to your unit's table, spotting an unfamiliar figure in the corner of the booth next to jay, which you could assume was the new tech guy Mouse.

“Christ Y/LN where have you been?” Your partner Adam boomed, already a little tipsy from the two beers he had consumed.

“Sorry I had to go home first, wanted to freshen up,” you smiled amused at how much of a lightweight Adam really was, despite claiming otherwise.

“Y/N this is Mouse, I don’t think you’ve met yet,” Jay interrupted you, drawing your attention away to introduce you to the nervous man beside him. Looking him dead in the eyes, you noticed how attractive he was, you had just presumed that Mouse would be less than average looking considering his measly nickname, but no, the man in front of you was undeniably handsome with a charming smile and deep blue eyes.

“Hi, it's nice to meet you, sorry I didn’t meet you earlier, seems like we were both at the wrong place at the wrong time,” you gave a shy smile, sitting down next to Kevin trying to look confident despite the nervousness you felt inside.

“I-its good to meet you to Y/N, seems like the universe is not in our favour huh?” He stuttered equally as nervous, for what you assumed was first-time jitters, but little did you know it was because he found you equally as attractive.

——————

Throughout the night you continued talking with all members of your unit but especially Mouse. You felt naturally drawn to him, not just because of your attraction but also the stories he told that fascinated you, some from his days in the rangers and other ones from his childhood. By the end of the night, you too had managed to move to sit next to each other, with the members of your unit seeing you hit it off immediately and so pushed you together hoping for another office romance. Completely enamoured by him, you didn’t even notice that the other people in the bar were starting to trickle out slowly and Hermann’s last order was thirty minutes ago. Finally noticing your surroundings after the bartender had called your name and told you it was closing time, you checked your watch noticing the late time. Turning to Mouse you smiled and softly spoke about the revelation,

“I didn’t even realise how late it was, maybe we should get out of here, wait wait! Not like that, well unless you want you.” Noticing what you had said, you shyly smiled hoping he wouldn’t think you were too weird.

“That sounds good,” he cheekily smirked moving out of the booth, allowing you to get out too and heading towards the doors of the bar, saying a brief goodnight to Hermann on your way out. You walked down the street together to where your cars were parked, going at a slow pace, trying to extend your time together for as long as possible. Locating your car you stood next to it as you went to say your goodbyes to the handsome man in front of you.

“Thank you for keeping me company tonight, I really enjoyed it”

“Yeah me too, but I was hoping we could do it again sometime, just you and me?” Completely taken aback you stuttered to think of your response, you weren’t not thrilled about it at all, just completely surprised that he liked you as you did him.

“I’d love to Mouse, give me your phone,” handing you his phone you put your number in, silently hoping he would be one of those guys that actually use your number instead of ignoring it completely. Proceeding to hand it back, you both stood in silence not knowing what to say. But in this situation, no words were needed, only actions. So when he leaned in to place his lips, you gladly reciprocated the affection, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. Little did you know this would lead to a lifetime of desire and devotion.

[extravaguk]

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m 

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 

But apparently, you did. 

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 

"Let me take you on a date." 

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 

"N-no!" 

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

[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​

[knox-enden]

I had an idea, I wanted to write it. Let's gooo

TW: Implied Death, Death

*-*-*

Tommy's father always told him to never go past the Nether Portal that was located just a few miles down from their home. Tommy's father had also told him to never enter said Nether Portal.

Now, Tommy didn't always listen to his father. In his defense, his brothers didn't either. Tommy's brothers were just more careful in their rule breaking, where else Tommy was always ready to present his disregard for the rules in a flashing show.

So when Tommy's father went once more on one of his trips, the ones that Tommy's father never tells him of, well, Tommy can't help but think that this was a perfect time to past the Nether Portal. And more importantly-

The perfect time to go through it.

Of course, Tommy would have to be careful. He wouldn't want his brothers to try and chase after him, always concerned for his safety they were. It got annoying sometimes. Tommy was a big man, he was able to protect himself. After all, he had just turned thirteen a few months ago! He was a strong man!

In the dead of night, as the gentle sounds of the arctic that laced the outside of their very, very old home, Tommy crept from his bed. He made sure to keep an eye on the twins, careful to keep quiet whenever they made any motion in their beds.

Tommy grabbed his red backpack he had secretly stored up and made his way downstairs, climbing down the ladder that had been repaired far too many times. Tommy didn't understand why his father didn't simply replace the cracked and splintered wood. But then again, his father was very strange.

Tommy glanced around the room, realizing he couldn't find his regular red jacket. That was a problem. He needed that! Tommy, as quietly as he could, searched the living room that the family was so accustomed to.

A hint of blue caught Tommy's eye. The closet door had been left open, and Tommy saw a blue cardigan, made of wool. Tommy grabbed it, noticing how unique the patterns were. They almost resembled discs and flowers. Tommy smiled to himself. How lame.

But, it was better than nothing. Tommy slipped the blue cardigan on, noticing how warm it was. How had he never noticed it before? Perhaps he didn't need it then.

Now that Tommy had something warm to wear outside, he grabbed his bag he had left at the door, and races out. Once more, careful to leave not a sound.

And Tommy's brother told him he couldn't be quiet. This'll show him, Tommy decided.

Tommy traveled through the light snow. He was lucky enough to pick a night where no snow was to fall, and the only thing to keep him company was the stars that lite the sky above. He stared at the stars, noticing all the different shades of colours that passed around them.

There was a name that Tommy was thinking of. But he couldn't place it. Perhaps he'd figure out later.

The Portal was taller than Tommy expected. Made of a pure dark rock, obsidian, Tommy would guess. He roamed around it, noticing a few chunks had fallen from it. Tommy huffed at that. Lousy portal.

Tommy scuffled through the snow, locating any pieces of fallen obsidian he could, careful not to harm himself on any of the sharp edges. He slotted the chunks back into wherever they would fit. To Tommy's surprise, he noticed that they didn't fall. Weird magic stuff most likely.

The Portal did not light. Tommy stamped his foot. Of course, he needed fire. A bubble of though entered Tommy's mind as he smiled.

He reached into his bag, pulling out a small metal box. Known to be his brother's lighter. His brother didn't smoke, but always kept the lighter on him anyways. Tommy didn't know why.

Tommy swept a bit of fire onto the obsidian, watching the portal light with purple swirls. A success! Tommy hopped in excitement, not another thought as he jumped right through.

The first thing Tommy felt was heat. Not blistering heat, not enough to make him melt, but certainly enough for Tommy to take notice. His arctic home was always cold. Always. Sure it was sunny at times, but the snow was always a reminder of what Tommy would always feel.

So to feel this heat? It was enriching to Tommy. Exciting even!

The second thing that Tommy noticed, was the rocks that scattered across an otherwise red floor. Tommy crouched, staring at the rocks. Cobblestone. It was cobblestone.

Tommy loved cobblestone.

So, naturally, he followed the rocks. Only registering halfway through that it was a path. And when he made it to the end of said path, he stared in awe. Broken bridges, some more ruined than others, played across the insides of the Nether. Some paths bathed in cobblestone, some paths with an obsidian lining. It was new.

Tommy followed the paths, a part of him begged to follow the obsidian. A feeling of dread and desire rushed through him, staring at the pathway that led to said feelings. Tommy wondered if perhaps had he not caught the sight of signs, then he would have followed the path. But signs were too interesting.

If only the signs had anything written on them. Words etched away, almost has if claws had come to them, destroying them. As Tommy studied the claws, they reminded him of the old abandoned shed that laid in his backyard. Another place that his father had forbidden him to venture in. The shed was littered in claw marks. Almost like these.

Tommy frowned. There was another feeling in him. One of familiarity. But it mattered not, as when he looked away from the sign, he saw a Portal. Another Nether Portal. Except this one, was still lite. Perfect!

He rushed towards the portal, and yet again, he jumped through it without another thought.

Now, Tommy had seen ruins before. He saw his old shed in his backyard after all, but, his shed was nothing compared to the absolute mess he had wandered into.

There was obvious signs that buildings had once laid there. Obvious signs that life had once stayed upon these paths. But, it was destroyed.

Tommy saw the gentle remains of buildings, swarmed by greenery. It was beautiful, yet sad. Tommy wondered what had happened here. He wondered how many good memories laid in these ruins.

As the night continued, so did Tommy, venturing out into the ruins of what looked to be a city. There were buildings, some prettier than others, in tatters. Some seemed intact, a brick building with bits of white painted stood beside another brick building, bright greenery and flowers laced that building. Tommy led his path forward, glancing down at the wooden path before his feet.

The feeling of them was marvelous. They felt special. Important. Tommy barely missed the realization that unlike the rest of these ruins, the wooden path had no greenery growing upon it. Only around it.

It was so beautiful.

A large thud caught Tommy's attention, switching his head to look behind him as he saw a creature. At first, Tommy concluded an Endermen, simply based on its height and colour. But then Tommy saw white. Black and white skin covered the tall creature. It was bent over slightly, as if it had developed the habit to bend.

Tommy, for but a swift moment caught it's eyes, a green and red. Odd for Endermen, who usually have bright purple.

"H-Hello." Tommy spoke, hopefully the creature was sentient and hopefully kind. But the big man Tommy wasn't scared. The creature said nothing. Just, stood there. Tommy noticed black and white hair, tracing all the way to the ground, leading a trail from the wooden path. The black and white claws the creature owned certainly weren't ignored by Tommy. For but a split second he wondered if those claws would match the marks from his shed and the signs.

"Who?" The creature spoke, the words gargled as if it hadn't spoken in a very long time.

"I-I'm Tommy. The biggest man ever!" Tommy stamped his foot, to show how tough and brave of a man he was. Tommy noticed the way the creature tensed, before relaxing.

"Tom...my?" The creature gurgled out. As if it was piecing together a story Tommy didn't know of.

"Uh, yeah big man. Tommy. Tom-my." Tommy repeated. The creature jumped at that, almost like Tommy did when he was excited.

"Tommy!" The creature's gurgled voice was gone now. Tommy noticed the colourful purple dots that began to circle around the creature.

"There you are Tommy!" The creature, sounded young. For an Endermen that was. Tommy looked up, confused.

"What?" Tommy deadpanned. Why did the creature speak to him with such... Fondness?

"I've been looking all over for you! Tubbo has been upset for so long now- But now you're here and he'll feel better again!" The creature hummed, reaching and taking Tommy's hand. Tommy tried to protest, but the grip was to harsh.

"Hey!" Tommy exclaimed, "What the fuck man? Who the fuck are you?" Tommy asked, very much not wanting to be a snack if that was the case. And who the hell was Tubbo? The creature turned back, staring at Tommy in amused bewilderment. There was an edge in the eyes of the creature. Tommy had seen it before, in his father's eyes so often.

Sorrow.

"It's me, Ranboo, of course. Are you having memory issues?" The creature, Ranboo, laughed gently, "That's my thing Tommy. You should know that!" Ranboo? What kind of a stupid name was Ranboo?

"I don't even know who you are!" Tommy yelled out, flinching at how Ranboo tightened his grip on Tommy.

There was so much sorrow in his eyes.

"Ha. Ha." Ranboo's fake laughter was hollow. "Very funny Tommy, now come on, Michael is also waiting! He'll be so excited to know that you're-"

A golden arrow pierced Ranboo's arm, causing him to let go of Tommy. Tommy ran back from Ranboo, but never admitting he was afraid. Ranboo screamed, clutching his arm. A hiss formed to his face, glaring at where the arrow had come from.

"Leave him be Ranboo." Tommy froze as he heard his father's voice. Ranboo, also seemed to become frozen. A sorrowful smile on the creature's face.

"Philza! You're here too!" What? Tommy glanced up, noticing his father stood beside him, an empty expression resting on his face.

"Ranboo, leave." Philza threatened. Tommy knew it was a threat, but from the way the creature laughed, it didn't seem to register.

"But why? Tubbo needs to see Tommy! Tubbo has so much to say! And Michael! Michael too! And Techno, and Wilbur, and Quackity!" Ranboo went on, another emotion spreading through his voice. Tommy would call it desperation. Tommy found it creepy that the creature knew his brothers names.

"Ranboo..." Philza gave a pitiful hum. The creature shook its head, a smile planted on its face. A hollow smile.

"Ah, hold on Phil, I think I just heard Niki and Fundy calling me!" Ranboo exclaimed, a purple glint in his eyes. He turned around, calling out to nothing but the air as he fled from the father and son.

Tommy didn't noticed he had held his breath until he was breathing again. He glanced up to his father, whose expression was mixed with a colourful display of emotions. Tommy could recognize pity out of all of them.

"Dad?" Tommy started, "Who was that?" Instead of an answer, Tommy was met with a bitter glare.

"You are in so much fucking trouble." Philza barked lightly, yeah, Tommy expected as much. Tommy saw Philza falter for a moment, staring at Tommy's attire.

"Tom's, where did you find that?" Philza asked, pointing towards the blue cardigan that Tommy had on. Tommy shrugged.

"Found it in the closet. It look warm." Philza stared at the boy a moment longer, before looking back towards the creature, Ranboo, who was standing around, talking to no one but himself.

"It looks as if my trip is on hold for now." Philza sighed, "Let's go Tommy. I'll explain in the morning."

Tommy knew that was a lie. But Tommy didn't worry about it. Philza will talk to Techno or Wilbur about it, he always did. And then they'd tell Tommy.

Tommy nodded. Another question formed in his mind.

"Hey dad?" Tommy asked, quietly as the two made their way back to the portal, ignoring the chattering of the weird Endermen creature.

"Yes?" Philza asked, looking down to meet Tommy's eyes. Blue eyes met with blue eyes. Tommy stumbled in his footing, clutching his blue cardigan as if it was something he needed. Something he couldn't be without.

"Dad... Who's Tubbo?"

[twst-headcanon]

Hii 🙃 May I request some headcanons for Ace, Deuce, Idia, Malleus and Leona with a s/o who loves stuffed animals and takes them everywhere?If it’s possible could you do a bonus reactions when their s/o uses the plushie to kiss them? Make it as fluffy as possible please >//< By the way I love your writing 💕

Heeyyyyyy !! So here is (finally !) the answer for your request ! Mod Amy helped me writing this I hope it’ll meet your needs !! It was fun to write and I might have get overboard at moments tehee~~~. Also thank you for your kind words, it makes us more confident and fired up !! Anyway enjoy reading !! ~Mod Ebi

Warning: Sweetness overload (or so I think), if you get cavities we won’t be responsible for it !!

S/O who loves stuffed animal and takes it anywhere.

Ace:

Well he was surprised at first. « Eh ? A stuffed dog ? Isn’t that a bit childish ? » Ace for the love of whoever you want please think before speaking. And the moment he saw their tense face, he immediately told himself « oh shit I fucked up » yes you did.

Poor boy felt really bad and apologies but the more time he spend with the plushie, the more he grew attached to it. “I’ve only had this smol cutie for a day and half. But if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this school and then myself.” They even became besties. « If it wasn’t already yours, I would have already adopt this ball of floff. » Sorry Deuce, your spot was taken.

Ace wouldn’t ever admit it but it brings him comfort to hug it when he sleeps during class using it like a pillow. It’s a wonder how the teachers never scold him about that.

And because he likes to hold it, he uses Grim as an excuse « You already have to hold Grim, let me hold my little puppy ! » and thus, he carries it around on his shoulder -No worries he won’t let it fall when if his life is at stake.-

If you use the plush to kiss him, he’ll give the dog many smooch back ! Until he sees his love a bit envious, that’s when he drown them in kisses too !!

Deuce:

What a cute bunny !! Does it have a name ? For how long did you have it ? He decided that from now on, he’ll to hold it his heart ! It’s just so lovely ! Like them !!

However his lover might not mind the way people talks about them carrying a stuffed animal but he does. He tried to warn them threaten them gently not to, but it didn’t work. What could he do to show some support...

OH !💡! He just got an awesome idea !!

A few days later when Deuce comes to his lover, he shows them a package. “Look at what my mother send me !” It was an old hare plushie. “This was mine when I was still an infant. I asked her to send it back to me. That way not only we match but your plushie won’t be alone anymore !”

Because he thinks his lover and their plushie are alike, he tried to sew a spade pattern under the eye of his hare (at the same place he have his.) Unfortunately he can’t sew for shit and had to ask help from Trey.

Once they use the bunny to kiss Deuce, and he asked he in return “A kiss ? I see then who would you a kiss back from ? Me or my hare ?” Ask for both and both you’ll received !!!

Leona:

At first he didn’t care that much about it. As long as they didn’t ask him to carry this lion plushie, our favorite lion shouldn’t have be bothered about it. Shouldn’t have.

Aha well too bad for him, because a big surprise he never thought would ever happened hit him in the guts.

This plushie was ☆*:.｡ everywhere ｡.:*☆.

During class sitting between him and his chosen one while they brush it.

During lunch “No Leona I won’t feed you, what if I stain my plushie ?”.

During your napping quality time, cuddling the stuffed animal instead of him.

... This has to be a joke. Who’s the boyfriend here ? Leona Kingscholar or that damn plushie ?!

No, wait a minute l! There is NO way his pride would let him to be envious of a fake lion ?!!?!?

BUT THEN HE SAW IT. His lover. Kissing. The toy.

OK THAT’S IT. LEONA HAS ENOUGH.

“Oi ! Stop that right now.” Leona ? What is it why do you look so upset ? “Put this damn plush down. Why do you keep pamper this thing more than me ?”

“... Leona. Love. Are, are you jealous ?” “Haa ?! Of course not what makes you think so ?”

He totally is. You can hear Ruggie wheeze in the background.

“*chuckle* Oh Leona if you were envious you could have say so ! I guess I’ll just have to correct that.” FINALLY.

But the only thing they managed to do, is make the smaller lion kiss him.

“Grrr you got this all wrong. Let me show you what I meant earlier.” And Leona swept them off their feet to kiss them like there is no tomorrow.

Idia:

*Gaaasssp* A STUFFED CAT ! IT LOOKS SO FLUFFY !!!!! HNNNN HIS HEART IS SOFT. Can he hold it too ? Can he pet it ??

He is totally on board with his lover carrying a plushie around. Usually cats flee before him, thanks to it he could try and train how to interact with felines !

Oh ! Maybe he should also tell how admirative he is of them ! Idia is aware that people can be mean, and for his lover to hold always with them without minding other’s thoughts ! How could he not fall even deeper in love ?

Now, your plushie have two person gushing and pampering it ! And when Ortho saw you he couldn’t help but to say : « You looks so cute together !! Like a family !!! If Idia is the father and you the other parent, does that mean I am « ojitan » ? »

Idia.exe has stopped working. ORTHO COULD YOU PLEASE NOT BROKE YOUR BROTHER LIKE THAT ??? HE IS BLUSHING SO MUCH HE LOOKS LIKE OVERHEATED.

-Not that any of you mind that, rather his comments made the both of you really happy-

If they use the plushie to kiss him, Idia will at first blush hard -his hair might as well turn a bit red- but he’ll use the plushie to kiss them back *indirect kiss !!!!!*

If he feels more bold, Idia would even turn it to a snuggle session and kiss them on their head and lips.

Malleus:

He might not show it, but Malleus found that little bat plushie extremely cute ! Unlike some he understands that you like to carry it around, regardless of if it’s a memory, if it helps you relax or even if there is no reason.

If anyone dares to make a bad comment about it, he’ll make sure remember their face. -But let’s face it who would dare to do it knowing that Malleus is their boyfriend.-

In a way to support you, he presents you his tamagotchi !! “Now like this, we know each other’s friends. They could even be friend don’t you think ?”

If you ever need it, Malleus would hold your stuffed bat for you (like if you need to go to the bathroom or whatever.)

During time like this, while you are not aware or watching, he’ll groom and talk softly to it, admiring it like he admire gargoyles.

“My friend I have a request. Please for the times I am not around, could you protect them for me ? Here is a little charm that would guard you if anything happen. I’ll count on you.”

If they use the plushie to kiss Malleus, he’ll chuckle and gently kiss you back. “Fufu did you perhaps wanted to start a Chinese whisper game ? Every loving gesture, I’ll lavish it a hundred times more back to you.”

((So I am not sure about the name “Chinese whisper game”, it’s called “téléphone arabe” in french but I’m not sure if I got the right translation here.))

[imagine-loki]

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12 Final Chapter.

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

NOTE: final chapter

Loki scoured his desks and shelves for those letters. When the knock came to his door, he gave a nod to Tatianna to open it. The maid, who had been working diligently with him in search of said letters, rushed over to check it was who she had been sent for. “The Postmaster, Lord Johan, Your Highness.” She introduced as the Postmaster came in. 

“Lord Johan.” The Postmaster bowed. “Prince Loki, I came as soon as I could.” “Thank you.”

“How can I assist you, Your Highness.” “My brother has informed me that three letters were brought to my rooms over a period of months from the Ljósáfar palace.” 

The Postmaster’s eyes widened. “You did receive such, Your Highness. I organised them for your rooms myself as I do all the mail for your family. They even had the name of the sender on them, the Princess Raven of Alfheim. Such fine writing she has too. Artistic and neat.”

Loki nodded and took little heed of the statement, It was well-known that the Postmaster was a graphophile, he supposed a few millennia of looking at different handwriting would turn almost anyone into one. 

“I have never received them.” The Postmaster’s mouth opened to speak. “I am not, for one moment, suggesting you to be telling me falsities, Lord Johan, I know of the due care you put into your work but also I know you have entirely no reason to lie.”

“On two of the three occasions, they came alongside other post. On the final one, it did not and I ensured they all made their way to your rooms. Because of their importance, I placed them in the centre of your desk rather than the usual place.” Loki’s eyes widened and he looked at his desk, which was kept clean for when it was needed for work matters but there was nothing on it at present. “It begs the question then, where did they go, and why would anyone do such a thing as to move them?” He looked at Tatianna as he spoke. The maid shook her head slightly. Loki did not suspect his maid. He questioned her for a moment upon returning to his rooms, asking her if she recalled such letters but she stated that she did not. He had no reason to suspect her, she did not have anything to gain from dishonesty and she had even been readying the rooms in case Raven was to be joining Loki in them. She had tidied shelves in case she too was a reader and had books to join Loki’s. She had gone through each and every item of clothing of his that she could find, discarding the damaged, repairing others making room for the new princess. If anything, Loki suspected she was half excited to have a woman to assist tending to. She loved fashion and hair meaning having a princess to assist with events would undoubtedly be something pleasant for her. “Tatianna, have you tried behind those scrolls?”

“No, Your Highness, I will try now.” She darted off to do that. “Do not forget, Your Highness, Her Majesty insists you turn up for dinner. Missing lunch was unacceptable, missing dinner is...well…” “Let me guess,  if I do not turn up, I will have Gungnir force me to turn up?”

“Something to that effect.” 

Loki rolled his eyes at his parents’ attempts at threats. “Very well, you keep searching.” She nodded and did so. “Where in the realms are they?” Loki muttered to himself. * The prelude to the dinner did not fair as badly as Loki had worried that it would. For most of it, he spoke with the Ljósáfar princes, all of whom seemed amiable in their own ways, but what he did notice was his mother looking worriedly at him, though he barely acknowledged her unless she spoke to him directly as he did not want to embarrass his family and that there was no sign of Raven. 

When dinner time arrived, he began to feel insulted that she had been able to avoid it while he was being forced to endure it. The fact that it was a public dinner made it all the worse. The whole realm would hear the announcement of the forthcoming wedding and she was not even present. What also caught his attention was the Vanir that Thor was clearly speaking within an intimate manner before the meal but who was sat down separately for the meal. He recognised her. She was of good personality but little on looks but she was from a powerful house and Asgard’s tie to Vanaheim had to remain strong so he suspected that she would be announced as Thor’s betrothed as soon as Loki’s marriage ribbon was tied. Raven was of far better looks and he knew from her knowledge of literature that she at least was not without a mind but he still felt angered by it all. 

Thinking in his own mind, he heard nothing of the talk around him. It was only when he noticed a severely tense atmosphere around him that Loki got pulled from his thoughts as a shadow came into view beside him. At first, he thought the tense atmosphere was from Raven, who finally decided to grave them with her presence but after a moment, seeing her meek demeanour, he noticed she was the subject of the tense atmosphere, not the instigator. Sitting beside him, she did not even try to look at him or engage him in any manner. 

“It’s good to see at least that your brothers and parents disapprove of your actions,” Loki growled lowly to her as the noise around them increased, allowing them some privacy to speak. 

“My parents do not care in the slightest about that. They were more worried about me embarrassing them by learning to sew and such than anything. They were simply glad that I was no longer there being of age and unmarried.” She stated in a monotone that still seemed to seep sadness. 

Loki frowned slightly. “So what has them all looking at you as though you are a disgrace?” His curiosity got the better of him. 

“I should not be in public at present. It’s disgraceful. They disagree with your parents insisting that this dinner go ahead, they felt it should have been postponed.”

“I am very much inclined to agree with that sentiment. Though, I doubt our reasonings are the same, are they?” 

“I very much doubt it.” She toyed with her hands. 

Loki watched the action carefully, realising she had been doing so with nervousness and anxiety clearly for at least the day if not longer from the marks on them. “You will pull the skin off if you keep doing that.” She stopped and put her hands to her side. “I’m curious, what happened to the woman that stormed my room today and called me a...was it a pretentious prick?” Raven’s eyes widened and she looked around at her parents, praying to every Norn that they had not heard. 

Loki studied her reaction. Thor’s and his mother’s words coming to the fore of his mind. They were both right, he didn’t like this more than he disliked a woman that would snap back. He didn’t like being called a pretentious prick but the silent and moping creature next to him was a thousand times worse. “So, you have left two things unanswered, how you shamed them enough to want them to call off this dinner announcement and where you hid the woman that barged into my rooms?” Raven said nothing for a moment, her tongue toying with her teeth as she considered her answer. “I should not have done that and I sincerely apologise for having done what I did to…”

“Norns, stop. I don’t want to hear it. Just answer my questions.” Loki hissed. 

“Because I am bleeding.” She said nothing more and waited for his reaction, awaiting disgust. 

Loki did not comprehend as to what she was referring to for a moment. He was going to insist that she head to the hospital wing for herself when it dawned on him what she was referring to. In his own mind, he thought to make a comment about it explaining her attitude towards him but he knew that was a cheap excuse. She had stated several times she was told off by her parents for being sarcastic and outspoken. Even when they were waiting for dinner to begin, her brothers had made comments on her behaviour being seeing as unlike other Ljósáfar women. “I am failing to see how that affects things. I am aware it is not an overly pleasant situation for a female but there are surely some things that can assist?” Raven gave a small smile at his innocence to the situation. “In Alfheim, high-born women are not seen while bleeding, or pregnant, or not until she is a certain date past childbirth, it’s seen as shameful and dirty.” “But they are basic parts of being female.” Loki didn’t even think over his reply, it came straight out of his mouth before he could process it. He looked at her, seeing the agreement in her eyes making him realise her earlier words on trying to see if she could be forced to continue such a life and how much they actually meant. Suddenly, he realised there was some sense to her actions. Insane as they were. He knew his and Thor’s lives were restricted by their positions in society, but what Raven was describing was nothing short of a form of imprisonment to him. “Obviously, it is different here. Mother did not retire from court until she was almost due my brother and myself.” He didn’t know why he used that example, she made it clear she did not like the idea of even having children but he wanted to settle her some bit. 

Raven merely nodded. 

As Loki was going to ask her about the letters, Odin rose to his feet silencing the room. He spoke on and on of the honour of hosting the Light Elves, the sharing of ancient magical knowledge and other such things, how they have been allies through several wars, nothing, of course, on the ones they were adversaries and other such words. No one spoke through the Allfather and when he ceased that speech, there was a cheer and raising of cups and tankards. When he spoke of the marriage, Loki gave a slight nod, as would be expected, while Raven looked around in a manner that she hoped offended no one yet knew it would offend her family terribly. When another cheer was made and another drink was taken, the talking began in earnest. 

Raven seemed to think to do nothing but swirl the contents of the cup. 

“Have you had mead before?” Loki found himself talking to her both out of boredom and curiosity. 

Raven shook her head. “It’s nice, though.” She kept her voice down. 

Loki pursed his lips. “Could the woman from today who sassed me please come out? Is there a button that activates her or is it only until a certain time of day, then at night, this meek creature emerges?” Raven’s eyes flickered toward her father, which Loki caught. “Ah, that explains things.” He leant closer causing her to shift slightly in her seat. “As of tonight, you realise you are supposed to adhere to Aesir norms, not Ljósáfar ones. Now, I need to discuss a matter with you.” 

“Regarding?” “Some letters.” Raven frowned at him. “It was brought to my attention today that you sent letters to me before this...charade.” Raven looked at him suspiciously. “I did. Three.” 

“Yes, Thor mentioned and the Postmaster confirmed.”

“And going by your reaction, you doubted this?” “I never received them.” Raven could not help pursing her lips in disbelief. 

“I did not.” “You leave all of your post on that platter, you never miss anything. I saw that myself.” Loki studied her carefully, seeing the disbelief in her eyes. “You think I discarded them without reading?” “You read everything, this I know.” “I never received them.” He stared straight back at her, his rich green eyes willing her to see he was being truthful. “The Postmaster placed them on my desk but I never got them.”

“All three escaped your notice?”

“It appears they did.” “One I would believe, three, I am sceptical.” 

“So was I when I heard such for the exact same reason,” Loki admitted. “Did you move them when you came?” “I...They would not have still been there by the time I came.” 

“But you did not see them in the room, since you organised things in it?” “No, you’re not listening, they would not have still been in existence. I used paper made with Cat’s Claw oil, meaning…” “It dissolves within a month,” Loki completed. “Why, though?”

Raven nodded. “Yes, I did not want private correspondence with headed paper to be at risk of forgery, so I use that oil. Don’t you?” “I will now.” Loki could not fault her logic. If anything, he was embarrassed he had not thought of it. “What did you write?”

“Nothing too taxing. What were the best books to understand Aesir court and history best? I had heard you were an avid reader, so who you enjoyed? What other hobbies you had, nothing too intimate. The first and second were similar as I thought you had not received the first for whatever reason. The last was a tad more abrupt. Then I stopped trying.” She toyed with her hands again. 

“You’re damaging your skin.” Loki admonished. “I am sorry your letters went unanswered. I don’t know what happened to them, I will find out but I did not ignore them.” “I believe you.” 

Loki could see she meant it. “If I had seen them…”

“We could be dealing with a different situation right now. Not that it excuses my actions.” 

Loki nodded slightly. 

“I am sorry for what happened. I truly wish I had not done such. But thank you for your concern also.” 

“Concern?”

“When I told you I would be leaving your service and I seemed upset, even though you were upset, you were adamant that if I was being mistreated, I could tell you. Even when you felt terrible for yourself, you showed concern for me, even when you did not like me. I think it showed me so much about you.” She gave a small smile. “Even if you think little of me as I truly am.” 

Loki was going to challenge that but he saw the slight smirk and playful glint in her eye. “Norns, you switch between two different demeanours faster than the Bifrost travels realms. It will be exhausting to keep up with.” “I think you forget that I know what you are like. We will be suffering together.” 

Loki chuckled to himself, thinking that this situation may not be entirely terrible if they tried. Seeing the hopeful look on Raven’s face, he suspected with some work, perhaps they could. 

Raven found herself looking at a certain someone staring at her disapprovingly in the crowded room. She took a moment to realise just who it was before giving the other woman a raised brow. For her part, the other woman seemed genuinely startled as to the Light Elf she had previously spoken down to. With Loki’s interest in the princess and the princess knowing full well who she was and what she had said, she knew there was no manner to get into her good graces under false pretences but also that the Light Elf knew full well about everything and could ensure she kept a close eye on such, so she looked at her food again. 

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FOUR - A Rogue One Fanfic

So this part/scene got a little out of control. Ironically, since I only had the base idea of when it would take place until I started writing it. You can also find/read this story on AO3 now.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Four

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some sappiness?

Words: 2,978

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

...

“Ms. Erso, it is time for you to vacate the infirmary.”

Jyn jerked, jarred from sleep and reaching for the knife she no longer had on her person. Her situation settled back around her surfacing consciousness, calming her immediate fight-or-flight response but keeping her on edge.

“No,” she told the medical orderly droid. “I already told the doctors, medical staff and you lot that I’m not leaving Captain Andor. I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“Yes. You were most clear regarding your intransigence, Ms. Erso.”

Droids had the worst attitudes. Shouldn’t med ones be programmed with a better bedside manner?

“But the bed is needed,” the droid went on when she just wanted it to go away so she could wallow in the overwhelming mix of emotions drowning her; loss, guilt, relief. “There are numerous incoming casualties from a skirmish in the Za’dan sector.”

Jyn scowled, but didn’t budge.

“What difference does it make if I leave? It’s not like I’m taking up an extra bed.” As if to prove her point, she shifted closer to Cassian in the infirmary cot, making her already petite body take up even less room.

“Captain Andor is to be processed for discharge. So you will keep your superfluous vow that he won’t wake up alone. Even though he wouldn’t be alone anyway. There are medical staff and med-droids present.”

Jyn was too alarmed by the droid’s revelation to mind the griping typical to its type.

“You’re discharging him?!” Jyn shifted, pushing herself up to study the unconscious man.

How well she knew every bruise and injury visible and many hidden by the white medical tunic and pants. She’d passed out herself from exhaustion as they began treating her injuries, but as soon as she’d woken up, she’d bullied, threatened and pleaded until they brought her to Cassian, making her wait outside the operating room, only able to watch as they finished the surgeries and treatments. They’d let her curl up in a chair next to the Bacta tank they’d stuck him in afterward, and no one even questioned by the time he was relocated to an infirmary bed when she climbed in beside him.

She’d seen the bandages, bruises, burns and scars. And she knew how they’d changed as the hours, the days had passed. Barely days, just three days since Scarif. Were they insane? They were just going to turn him out, in his condition?

Apparently, they were.

The med-droid was already injecting him with something, and Cassian was rousing. Jyn’s heart beat faster and she practically held her breath, on her knees on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with anticipatory anxiety, clutching at her kyber crystal with one hand. His past few hours of sleep had been strained. He’d been unconscious but also tense, in pain. She’d felt it in the rigidity of his muscles, the periodic hitches in his breathing.

“Did you give him more meds for the pain, too?” she asked the droid. How could they ask him to get back on his feet when he was in so much pain just lying still?

“Yes. And the stimulant should keep him awake until he gets settled back into his quarters.”

Jyn sagged in relief slightly until Cassian came crashing back into reality with a gasp and a jerk, and bewildered, began to thrash. She threw herself on top of him, placing her hands on his shoulders to hold him down, hoping he wouldn’t hurt himself worse, but understanding how confused and frightened he must feel.

“Cassian, It’s Jyn.” As if that would make a difference to him, if he even remembered her upon waking from a days-long practically-a-coma, someone he’d only met far less than a week ago and since had suffered devastating traumas. “You’re safe. You’re on the rebel base on Yavin 4. In the infirmary.”

Almost instantly, he went still, calmed, like a switch had been thrown. But she supposed the man did have quick reflexes, was highly adaptable to various situations. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made it so long as a rebel spy.

“Jyn?” His eyes found her face. They were a little glassy and unfocused but were still, well, captivating, dark, intelligent and expressive. “What happened?”

“We did it.” She shifted back to kneeling beside him, gave him a smile, a genuine one albeit bittersweet. They had succeeded in their mission, but at a tremendous cost. “The plans to the Death Star were received by the fleet.”

“Are they planning an attack?” Cassian pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing and inhaling sharply, making Jyn picture the freshly healed surgical incisions that were doubtless strained by the movement.

“I…” Jyn had never thought to ask. The moment she realized they weren’t going to die on that beach, making sure Cassian survived had become her only concern. “I don’t know.”

“I should report to Command.” Cassian moved to get out of the infirmary bed, but Jyn stopped him, grabbing his arm to hold him back. She shimmied across the bed and hopped off it to stand in front of him.

“If they needed any more information or intel, they would’ve asked me.” It sounded plausible, even though if they’d tried it, she couldn’t rightly say she would’ve cooperated (they hadn’t listened to her the last time she tried to convince them of the truth), but especially if it meant leaving Cassian’s side. Even for a moment. How had someone else become her primary, her only concern, that she now cared only for his welfare? “And you’re not in any shape to help. Give yourself a little more time to heal.”

She reached for him as he was already trying to stand, stiffening and wobbling for a moment when he was fully upright. But Jyn would support him without him needing to ask, slid her arms around his waist and tucked her shoulder under one of his arms. He leaned into her, likely without even realizing it. From what Jyn could tell, Cassian was an independent sort of person, like herself, but unlike herself, was not too proud to accept help, being more of a team player than she ever had been.

His fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed shut. He took a long, deep breath, swaying a little.

“How far are your quarters from the infirmary?” she asked.

He sighed. That close, was it?

“Can you make it? If I help you?” Jyn looked around, but the droid had already stripped the bed and skittered off. She would go find whatever he needed for assistance because maybe he was a little proud, too, and had sacrificed a good portion of his independence by leaning on her. She waited, letting him decide, despite her wanting to wrap him up in soft warm blankets in a fluffy bed of pillows and keep him safe.

“Let’s try it. I should probably find out how bad the damage is sooner than later.” His expression had gone tight and unreadable, and her heart broke to think of the justified fear he must be feeling, that he may have suffered permanent damage that could affect the rest of his life, that might take away his purpose of serving the rebellion.

“They healed the blaster wound easily, but you’ve got an impressive scar,” she said as he took a tentative step, using her like a crutch, not questioning why or how she knew his wounds and medical diagnosis and treatments. “The fractures in your vertebrae and ribs probably haven’t completely knitted yet but the prognosis is good.”

Well, this wasn’t so bad. His weight was a burden making her own steps difficult, but Jyn didn’t begrudge it, not when it meant he was alive, and on his feet even. And they were already at the infirmary door. The medical staff hadn’t given them even a second look, but Jyn steeled herself for the possibility of stares as they entered the rest of the base. She couldn’t care less but these were Cassian’s fellow soldiers and he deserved their respect and not pity.

“They replaced your hip and part of your femur,” she said when they entered the hallway.

“Is that why it feels like I’ve been sliced open from my ribs down to my knee?”

“They sealed you back up.”

A light chuckle escaped him. “Things could be worse, then.”

They could, they really could. If Jyn were to make comparisons, it wasn’t just the fact that they hadn’t died on Scarif like it seemed they should’ve, but this situation she found herself in, saddled with a wounded spy (by her own choosing), on a rebel base, a Death Star out there somewhere in the galaxy… It was still the best place she’d been in since… Since she was abandoned by Saw at 16? Since her mother had died and her father had been taken?

Part of her that enjoyed the warmth of Cassian’s body beside hers, the feel of his wiry flank beneath her hand, the smell of his skin, even the weight of him he placed on her shoulders, that part proposed that this was the best situation, the best time in her entire life.

How pathetic did that make her?

She enjoyed dragging a severely wounded man around some giant old ruins half-reclaimed by the jungle converted to a military base… sort of base… The Alliance was so loosely confederated, everything seemed slapped together and piecemeal.

But hopefully the medical facilities had been up to par… They had seemed nicer than anything Jyn had ever experienced. But that wasn’t saying much at all.

“You need a minute?” she asked, finally realizing Cassian’s steps and breathing had become labored. She maneuvered him towards a wall and leaned up against it with him, nodding to a passing rebel soldier of indeterminable rank and unnotable appearance.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you’d left me on Scarif,” he said, his voice low, quiet and pained as he almost-panted, sagging against the ancient stone wall.

“No,” she said. “You don’t mean that.”

“I was ready to die.”

She didn’t want to hear this. The meds and the strain were making him say things. She told him as much.

He shook his head.

“Listen to me, Jyn.”

What could she do? What could she say? That she didn’t want to hear how he valued his life so little, that he’d throw it away just for the slim chance of providing an opportunity for the rebellion to destroy some Imperial weapon, a terrifying one, but one weapon of many. She-

“I felt peace. For the first time in my life, probably.” His voice had gotten even lower and quieter, almost a whisper, wistful even. Jyn didn’t dare look at him, had to concentrate on breathing normally when she felt his fingers slip into her hand. It was easier to consider her unsolicited affection for the man when he was giving no indication of whether or not he returned it. “And I think it was because you were there. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I didn’t feel alone.”

Oh, Force. He was getting delirious, saying things that, from what she knew of him, he would never share even if he did feel them.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your own bed.”

He didn’t say anything else as they traversed several more halls, and Jyn wondered if she’d hurt his feelings by not responding to his raw, quiet confession. But he continued to lean on her without any hesitation and the silence between them felt comfortable. It was strange. He’d made her so tense in the beginning, the way he watched her, how secretive he was, so guarded. But somehow, somewhere along the way, she grew to not only feel comfortable with Cassian Andor, but to trust him as she’d never trusted anyone else before.

And she thought, maybe he trusted her in return. He followed her on a suicide mission, let her support his injured, vulnerable self on Scarif, let her drag him off that cursed planet, and now lead him across the rebel base, passing by people who really amounted to the only family he’d ever had.

There weren’t many, however. And none stopped. Or stared, too much. The med droid must have been right about the incoming survivors of the skirmish, everyone seemed a little rushed and mission-oriented. Or maybe there was more going on…

“Stop. Stop.”

Jyn immediately froze.

“Are you okay?” she asked, shifting beneath Cassian’s weight to try to get a good look at his face. “Do you need a break?”

“We’re home,” Cassian said, his eyelids sliding nearly shut before they shot open again.

“Oh,” Jyn said, ignoring the way something fluttered inside of her over his choice of words. “Which one?”

“Left side of the hall.” He indicated the door directly to their left with a nod of his head. The stimulant must be failing to combat the pain meds, and his body’s need to rest, to heal. Because he was getting heavier and more slack in her arms.

They staggered over to the door to his quarters and he was at least coherent enough to punch his code into the lock. His room was by no means large, barely larger than Jyn’s cell on Wobani. But at least he didn’t have a cellmate, er, bunkmate… Well, not officially…

She basically dumped him on the narrow bed, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, making a groaning sound of relief and taking several deep breaths, his legs hanging awkwardly off the side. Not knowing what else to do, she bent to lift his legs and slide them onto the bed, forcing him to lay down in a less uncomfortable position. She pulled the white slip-on infirmary shoes off his feet and tossed them in a corner, feeling only a flash of contrition over sullying the pristine room. It was so austere, even with two of the walls comprised of the old stone of the ancient temple. It could’ve been anyone’s quarters. No. That was wrong. It’s nondescriptness, everything hidden away in the meager storage units, only Cassian would keep his personal space in such a spartan manner.

“Cassian…?”

He mumbled something she took to imply he was listening and not passed out yet.

“Do you have extra bedding? A blanket or something?” She could do without. She had, many times. But it would be a little bit better than sleeping on the bare hard stone floor.

“No… Jungle moon… Already too hot… Why?”

“I was going to sleep here, if you don’t mind,” Jyn said. Why was this an awkward conversation to have? Why was she so afraid he’d say no, send her away? “On the floor.”

His eyes opened and that furrow formed between his brows as he studied her with a gaze that seemed to be having trouble focusing. But then he was scooching over until he was almost touching the wall.

“I think this is a nanometer larger than the infirmary cot,” he said. “What do you think?”

Jyn tried not to smile as she kicked off her own flimsy infirmary shoes and climbed onto Cassian’s bed to stretch out beside him. Something inside her sighed, content. She didn’t let it out.

“I don’t know…” she said. “But I guess if they made the infirmary beds nicer than the barracks, they’d have sick rebels all the time.”

A chuckle escaped through his nose.

“I don’t think they usually offer an ángel as a companion, either.”

“What?” Jyn shifted onto her side to study his face. His eyes were closed and he seemed content. The pain meds must be working.

“My mother was a believer in an Ancient Festian religion that worshipped a creator god. I don’t remember very many specifics...” Jyn didn’t dare breathe out, afraid of interrupting the story, softly spoken with hints of nostalgia, sharing a childhood memory, an intimacy she knew Cassian permitted, well, probably no one. “Except, there were these creatures that did the creator’s bidding, guiding people, aiding them, saving them… Angeles… I don’t know the word in Basic…”

He looked at her, and her apprehension about breaking the spell ebbed. Cassian knew full well who he was talking to, even if the pain meds had loosened his tongue, broken down the rigid walls he kept around his private self.

“I don’t know the word, either,” Jyn said. “I’’ve never heard of such creatures, mythical or otherwise.”

Cassian laughed, a soft little rumble that was accompanied by that rare smile of his that was brighter than a yellow dwarf sun and warmed her just as well. But, “What’s funny about that?”

“You…” His hand found hers, fingers sliding against her palm to curl around hers, engulfing her smaller hand. He shifted to face her, wincing a little, but his expression was soft if serious and . “Jyn, you saved me, guided me, are still coming to my aid… You’re my angelita…”

Oh, shit, he was so tired and drugged up he was becoming incoherent. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember saying such emotional things- oh.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles, making her swallow a gasp of surprise, and fight the sigh when he held her hand to his chest as he lay back, his eyelids finally losing the battle and sliding shut.

Oh, Cassian…

“Don’t worship me,” she whispered to his sleeping form. “I’m nothing worth venerating.”

Of course, was she behaving any different when it came to him?

They were quite the mess, the two of them.

She wriggled her fingers in his hold until she was able to interlace them with his and feel the warmth of his palm against hers. Jyn closed her eyes, immersing herself in the quiet, safe moment.

[drawlfoy]

Colorblind

masterlist request guidelines yes ma’am i’m back

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

request: yes! thank you kind anon :) this is the first request that really got me out of my writer’s block so i appreciate it!

summary: soulmate!au where the entire world is black and white except for your soulmate. y/n’s situation is a bit...unconventional. 

warnings: swearing and a little gore but it’s not explicit at all and just a mention

a/n: helloooooooo everyone! i know i’ve technically been “back from the dead” for nearly a month now, but this is the first time i’ve decided to jump back into writing. i’ve been working on the wonders of ohio bit by bit and have been horrified to see just how much my writing has deteriorated since last summer (when i was writing 1k words+ a day). i’d like to get into writing genuine original work during this quarantine, so i’m using my blog as a chance to polish up my own writing and work the kinks out before i touch my original ideas. thanks for being so patient with me !

music recs: figure 8 from peach pit, don’t delete the kisses from wolf alice, and bad things from cailin russo

word count: 3,098

Y/N frowned as she stirred the honey into her tea, watching the sugary swirls as they dissolved into the bottom of what she had been told was an amber drink. Her best friend, Tina, sat across from her in her snug Gryffindor robes, energetically recounting just how beautiful the color blue was.

“I had no idea, Y/N,” the brunette gushed, her cold triangle of buttered toast lying long forgotten on her plate as her hands added animation to her story. “You have to see it. He told me that the red in our robes brings out my eyes too--something about the color wheel and how green is opposite of red--and we made each other hold up our things so we could see what color its meant to be...honestly, it was such a dream...”

Even though Y/N was thrilled that Tina had found her soulmate in the convenient place of the Ravenclaw house--really, she was ecstatic for her friend--she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. She did quell the bitterness and envy that threatened to crawl its way up out of her throat, instead choosing to sit and pretend to listen as her own thoughts trailed off with a vacant smile on her face.

She’d been alive for 16 years, seen everyone there is to see at Hogwarts, traveled to every country that had a sizable young magic population, and had let her parents submit pictures of her to wizarding families all across the globe--only to still live in a dull world of simple blacks, whites, and greys. Friends like Tina had told her vibrant stories of the stunning hues of green, blue, red, purple, and gold, but Y/N had no way of knowing what they actually looked like, relying instead on her parents’ soft explanation of green as the color of life, blue as the color of peace, red as passion and anger, and yellow as the feeling of the sun hitting your skin after a long winter. 

Infuriating. She despised the security questions she had to fill out to open her Gringotts account (What’s your soulmate’s surname? What’s your favorite color?) and the unimpressed look of the goblin teller as they quietly conferred with her parents (”Sir, we rarely have complaints over this--statistically speaking, soulmates are found by the time a wizard or witch is old enough to handle money...). 

In other news, her love life was barren and dry, and at the end of the day, it was better to just not dwell on where she fell short. 

“I’ll stop going on about me,” Tina said, finally reaching down for her breakfast. “I want to hear about you. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with that crabby posh Daddy’s boy in Potions. You have my moral support. Always.”

“You mean Malfoy?”

Tina quirked an eyebrow as she took a sip of her own tea. “Yeah. Y/N, I have no clue how you’ve gone so long without being put off by that wanker. He’s so annoying. I know you don’t believe me, but you’re about to see for yourself in...erm..” She made a show of checking her pocket watch. “Less than an hour.”

“He doesn’t seem that bad,” Y/N countered. “I’ve spoken to him once or twice in the library. Doesn’t have much to say, but he was cordial. I’m not horrendously upset that we were assigned to be partners.”

“Did he know you were a Gryffindor?”

“I have no idea. Neither of us were wearing our robes, so I couldn’t tell you.”

Y/N’s friend rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re going to be singing a very different tune come lunch. Trust me.”

<^>

The wooden stool that Y/N was perched on was uncomfortably wobbly as she waited, albeit a little nervously, for her potions partner to arrive. It had been an unwelcome selection process--or perhaps, lackthereof--that began with Slughorn reading off a canned speech regarding house unity and the importance of bridging the gap between old rivalries and ended with groups that consisted of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor and directions to create an immaculate Draught of Peace.

Not her favorite way to spend a Friday morning, but she admitted to herself that it could be far worse. She could be paired up with one of Malfoy’s goons--Crabbe or Goyle--who were by far much more obnoxious.

A slight movement in the corner of her eye pulled her attention back to the present. Y/N started at the dark figure standing by the empty stool next to her.

“Excuse me,” Malfoy said simply, placing his satchel on the table in front of them and sitting.

Y/N sent him a weak smile as she unrolled her parchment and began reviewing the ingredients. 

“I don’t mean to sound brash,” she began as she sorted the ingredients at their table, “but I’m pretty good at Potions. If you want to, you can just read the directions while I prepare everything.”

He seemed like he wasn’t quite listening to what she was saying, instead his eyes, unfocused and slightly cloudy, were settled on her braid that snaked around her shoulder.”Er, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Okay.”

As the pair began, Y/N couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy looked tired. His normally pristine and glowing skin looked dull and lifeless, decorated with dark eye bags under his slate-grey eyes. She was struck with a sudden desire to ask if he was alright but decided against it. The furrow in his brow as he glanced over the directions reminded her that they were simply partners for the week--and that Slytherins generally got into a hissy fit if people tried to act too buddy-buddy with them too quickly.

“Add the moonstone until it starts to steam,” he said after a few moments, apparently not noticing that she was already emptying the powdered moonstone into the cauldron. “Stir until completely dissolved.”

“Add syrup of hellebore.”

“Stir until the consistency is akin to cream.”

This went on for the rest of the lesson--Malfoy softly instructing her while Y/N consulted her own set of directions, just in case. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how unusual his hair was. It was unlike any other white she’d ever seen before--instead, it had some kind of warm hue to it. Y/N knew that no one her age actually had naturally white hair--Malfoy clearly had some iteration of “blond”, whatever that meant--but all the other light haired  wizards she had met had slightly grey tinges in their hair...not whatever he had going on. She shrugged it off and kept stirring.

An hour passed by much quicker than anticipated, and to her surprise, Malfoy never said anything even mildly irritating. Y/N stored this tidbit of information away with the interest of asking Tina why she thought he was such a dickwad. 

“I think that’s all we have to do today,” Malfoy said once they had added the porcupine quills and set the lid on for the night. 

“We really let it sit here until Monday?” she questioned, reviewing the parchment one more time. “That seems a little excessive.”

“Well, it’s not like--” He began waspishly before he took a breath and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Er, I mean, I know that Slughorn casts a preservation spell on them over the weekend. There’s really no other way to do it without booking an entire day.” 

“I guess that makes sense.” 

He sent a surprisingly soft smile her way. It appeared that they had finished earlier than the rest of the students and had a couple more minutes until they were dismissed, so the silence around them was tense. Y/N decided to take a risk and ask something she assumed everyone, especially someone as allegedly ostentatious as Malfoy, liked talking about.

“So,” she began casually, twiddling her thumbs under the desk, “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

The few moments of complete and absolute quiet that followed after this question prompted her to send a glance over to Malfoy, who looked...completely stricken?

“Er....” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked her up and down. “Yes?”

Y/N had never had an interaction so awkward as she waited, tense and very weirded out, for him to just go ahead and pose the question back to her so she could break the ice and complain about how she’d searched far and wide for her soulmate and failed--but it never came. Malfoy just stared at her for another few heartbeats before he shut his slightly gaped mouth and turned to pack up his belongings.

Not another word was exchanged between them until Slughorn officially announced that they were all dismissed as long as their brewing stations were spotless. 

Malfoy was out the door before she even had a chance to say goodbye.

<^>

“So?” Tina sat at the edge of her seat, waiting for her friend to relay all the details of her potions adventure.

“Super weird,” Y/N answered. “He was nice. Didn’t say anything mean about my house or parents or wealth or anything. I asked him about his soulmate, though, and he totally clammed up.”

Tina’s eyes narrowed as she shifted on her bench and drew closer. “I haven’t heard a whisper of anything about his soulmate. Poor bloke probably doesn’t have one. I’m not surprised...no one deserves to be stuck with him forever.”

“No, that’s not it,” Y/N countered. “First of all, he’s not bad. I told you. Second of all, he told me he had one and looked at me like I was stupid for not knowing. It was weird.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it. He probably thinks he’s so important and sought after that all anyone talks about is him and was just offended that you didn’t know, I guess. This is what I mean. He’s such a prick.”

“Maybe.” Y/N found herself looking over to the Slytherin table, her eyes stopping on the curiously colored hair of a certain 6th year. He seemed especially down, hardly touching the spoon in his stew and choosing to look like the definition of angst instead. 

But in a very attractive way she admitted to herself. There was no denying it--Draco Malfoy was beautiful, in a tragic sort of way, like how paintings of imaginary places that you’ll never be able to actually visit for yourself are beautiful. 

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, jarring her out of her whimsical train of thought and bringing a blush to her cheeks. For once, she was relieved that no one could see her in color.

<^>

By the time Monday rolled around, Y/N was feeling more and more uneasy about her whole situation. Malfoy ignited some kind of weird feeling deep inside of her--almost like butterflies--as he absentmindedly tapped his lips with his quill, studying the directions sheet in front of them.

“How was your weekend?” Y/N asked, her voice a little pitchier than she would’ve liked. He arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at this, hardly even bothering to glance her direction. 

“The usual,” he drawled. “I studied, mostly.”

“Nice. Way to keep us all on our toes.”

The slight smile that stretched across his face and the dimples that followed nearly made her knees weak, her hand shooting out to grasp the edge of the table before they gave in. “Yeah. You know me. The wild card.” His voice seemed bored, but she was just glad that the words coming out of his mouth weren’t entirely insufferable. 

Y/N sent him a soft smile, fiddling with the edges of her robes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tina watching them intently.

“We only have to stir it 12 times counter clockwise and 14 times clockwise and add the unicorn horn powder before we let it simmer until Wednesday,” Y/N mused as she finally tossed the parchment back on the table. “Easy work. We should be done in about a half hour, give or take.”

They made quick work of the directions, the smell of their potion taking an amiable lilac like scent. 

“I think that means we didn’t royally fuck it up,” Draco offered as she rolled her sleeves back down and settled into the stool next to him.

Y/N smirked at him, a glimmer in her eyes. “We? Don’t you mean me?”

He laughed stiffly before immediately sobering up and packing up his things. “Sure. I’m going to ask Slughorn if I can leave early. See you.”

With that, he got up and left her alone. At face value, Y/N didn’t expect the situation to mean that much to her, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth and stung more than expected.

Shake out of it, Y/N, she chided herself. What does it matter, anyways?

<^>

A knock on her dorm room shook her out of a particularly thrilling study session for her DADA exam, whose notes she promptly shoved into her satchel at the suggestion of a welcome distraction.

“Come in!” she called. 

The door opened to reveal a particularly devious looking Tina. “I come with questions.”

“Please distract me from that tragic exam tomorrow,” she moaned, throwing herself on her bed. “Anything is better than thinking about it.”

Tina’s lip quirked as she settled down next to her friend. “It’s about your dear Potions partner.”

“What about him?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at him today.” Tina propped her chin up into her hand. “You like him.”

“I most certainly do not!” Y/N said hotly. “I mean...I think he’s cute, and his hair reflects the light in this really cool way, but no! I’m not an idiot!”

“Of course you’re not an idiot,” Tina soothed. “He’s objectively a very pretty person. No harm in appreciating that. And now that you’ve spent a little more time with him, and you’re realizing that maybe he isn’t an arsehole, I could totally understand why you’d develop feelings for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“How am I being ridiculous?”

“He’s already found his soulmate, Tina. I’m not masochistic enough to want to pine after a boy who already has his person.” As the weight of the words sunk in, Y/N could feel her chest tighten for just a moment. Tina just kept watching as she moved to gently wrap a hand around her shoulder.

“So say I do like him, just a little bit,” Y/N continued as her voice grew softer. “Say I actually let myself develop feelings for him even though I know there’s no way he’s my soulmate. Say I actually give in and have to see him every day knowing that he’s in love with someone else. Don’t you think that’s a little too much for me? I want to find my soulmate! I don’t want to mess around with anyone unless it’s with them.”

Her friend was quiet, but she moved her arm to wrap around Y/N’s frame. 

“I’d just really like to find my soulmate already,” Y/N finished up. “And I’m afraid that they’re not even out there. So, no. No detours allowed.”

Tina smiled a little at this, sitting up to instead pat her friend on the back. “You’ve always been the more focused one. I respect that. But I am saying that there’s no harm in seeing other people while you wait.”

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah. Fairs. Now, I hate to say this, but I have a list of spells a metre long just waiting to be memorized for the exam tomorrow. I’d love to tell you the rest of all my gushy secrets once that’s taken care of.”

“Of course!” Tina kissed her friend on the cheek and skipped off. “Just don’t go too crazy studying. I still need a best friend to bitch to at breakfast.”

“No promises!”

<^> 

“Add a little more powdered moonstone,” Malfoy instructed from her right, “Just until it starts to boil.” 

Y/N went to reach for it, catching a glimpse of her partner on the way. There was something just so magnetizing about him, something so delicate and stunning. She couldn’t help but feel a quick twinge of envy for whoever his soulmate was. 

The sound of the moonstone slipping into the potion pulled her back into reality, and she quickly stirred to avoid an unwelcome explosion. 

“And now the chopped gillyweed.” 

Y/N turned to their stockpile of ingredients, only to see whole cloves of gillyweed.

“I have to confess something,” she said, still stirring vigorously. Malfoy snapped to attention so quickly it almost made her jump. “I’m shit with a knife. Can you chop it for me? I have to keep stirring this anyways.”

What looked like disappointment flashed across his face for just a moment before he stood up and reached for a knife. “Sure.”

Y/N nodded and turned back to the concoction, careful to make sure that the moonstone wasn’t clumping together at the surface as she waited for Malfoy to be done with the gillyweed.

“Fuck!” 

Y/N turned to see Malfoy’s hand covered in--no way.

His hand was covered in blood, as was the knife that was held tightly by his right hand. 

“Fuck, fuck, can you hand me a towel?”

Y/N couldn’t help but stare as the words from her parents floated back into her head (Green is the color of life, blue is peace, red is passion and anger...). 

“It’s red.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Your hand. It’s red.” Now that she looked closer, she could see hints of colors that she’d never seen before in him--a soft hue that reminded her of first kisses and the scent of roses in his cheeks and lips, a warm, sunny glow in his hair, and a cool, startling color in his eyes that seemed like the color for getting thrown into a cold lake on a summer afternoon.

He was staring right back at her, his eyes wide and his breathing quick. 

“It’s you, isn’t it,” she breathed. “It’s been you all along. If only you hadn’t worn those blasted black suits all the time instead of your robes..”

The corners of his mouth crinkled into a smile.

“Ms. Y/L/N, step out of the way,” Professor Slughorn interrupted, rolling up his sleeves and getting his wand out. “Draco, boy, this looks deep. Get on up to the infirmary now. Don’t dally.” 

“Meet me,” he whispered as he made to leave. “Tonight. In front of the library. I guess we have some things to discuss.”

“Yes, yes, I guess we do.” Y/N cheeks were hurting from smiling, and as he left the room, the color fading from her vision, she had never been so content to be in pain in her life.

final a/n: hi everyone :) welcome back! can’t wait to write more! sorry if this was a bit of a trainwreck...i haven’t written in a long time and this is the first thing i’ve done since college apps. all feedback is appreciated! thank you! also apologies for any plotholes or spelling errors! i wrote this in a day and i know it’s a little messy oops

[monaownsmyass]

New Perspective

If you have any fic ideas or requests you'd like me to write, you can leave me an ask!

Book: My Two First Loves, Chapter 51

Pairing: Ava Lawrence x MC (Emma Price)

Genre : Fluff

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 4,511

A/N: What would’ve happened if MC went college touring with Ava in Ava’s PoV. A certain couple also makes an appearance and gives Ava some advice 😉

Tag list: @ineedskyecrandall @kamilahsayeet2063 @avalawrencefl @lovekamilahsayeed @thequeenkamilahsayeed @heygmicheelle @djtjsmith14 @jjlover01 @soft-for-drake (lmk if anyone would like to be included or removed in my next fics.)

I stopped outside Emma's house by her driveway and honked. I knew she saw me 'cuz she was sitting on her porch steps but I still did it anyway.

"Get in, loser! We're going college hunting!"

She looked down and shook her head as she made her way to my car but I saw that smile on her lips.

She opened the passenger's side door and got in. She closed it before she looked at me and said, "For the record, that was highly unnecessary."

"For the record, where's the fun in not doing it?"

She rolled her eyes but I knew she was the complete opposite of annoyed.

When I first asked her if she wanted to go college touring with me, I was hesitant. It took me the whole day to decide whether or not I should've sent that message. Eventually, I thought 'Screw it!' and hit the send button. Instant regret flooded me as soon as I did and I left my phone unattended for the next few hours, dreading to see what her reply was.

It normally wouldn't have been such a big deal. She was my best friend after all. However, after that day when Mackenzie asked us to model for her, things became... awkward. It wasn't a bad awkward but we became kinda nervous around each other. I thought back to the day where I figured out that maybe, the girl I was crushing on, my best friend, had a crush on me too.

"I wanna capture the real you," I remember Mack saying vividly. You two have been friends forever! You gotta be able to come up with something!"

"Well, in that case..." Emma glanced at Mack and then at me. Just being under her gaze was enough to make me lose my train of thought. "Ava, come sit on my lap!"

My eyes widened but I caught myself, not wanting to be obvious. I cleared my throat and decided to tease her back. I smirked and placed my hand on my hip.

"Should I give you a lap dance while I'm at it?"

I did not expect the next words to come out of Emma's mouth.

"I mean, if you think it'll look good for the cameras..." she flirted back, speaking low in an enticing voice.

My breath hitched. It's not as if we haven't flirted before, we definitely have. Platonically flirting with each other was something we've always done. But this wasn't it. It felt more than that, it wasn't friendly at all. I could feel the tension between us as she looked me straight in the eye. Her eyes burnt into mine and I could see the want in them.

Any longer and I would've passed out.

I shook myself out of my daze and I sauntered up to her. The show must go on anyway. I wrapped my arms around her neck and painstakingly slowly slid myself down onto her lap, my entire body brushing against hers. The friction between us felt electric on my skin.

I was breathless at the close contact but I managed to ask, "How's this?"

"Great!" Emma squeaked out in a high-pitched voice.

Oh?

Just a few seconds ago she was making come-hither eyes at me and was acting all confident. Now she was a blushing, stuttering mess. This wasn't just two friends playing around, was it? The excitement I felt and the way she squirmed in her seat told me otherwise.

"So feisty, I dig it!" Mackenzie called from behind the camera. I almost totally forgot that Emma's little sister was photographing us. But I wasn't done yet.

My heart was pounding so hard in my chest but I had to know if I made Emma nervous the same way she did me, butterflies in stomach and all that.

I brushed my fingers lightly against the side of her face, stroking her soft skin before placing a gentle kiss. I brushed my lips against her cheek and saw her eyes widen and mouth opened, agape.

I felt her tense under me and hesitantly let her hand rest around my waist.

I could feel the heat radiating off her body and I was sure she could feel the same coming from me.

I leaned in close to her ear, my breath skimming her earlobe and whispered, "Relax." I felt her shudder and saw goosebumps appear on her skin.

Interesting.

"Perfect! I got it!" Mackenzie announced, causing me to spring apart from Emma.

"Oh!" Emma said, flustered. "Good, good."

After that situation, we kinda avoided each other a little. Don't get me wrong, we didn't go out of our way to not talk or see each other, but we didn't make the effort to do reach out either which is very unlike us.

A week later was when I decided to invite her to join me in college touring. I missed her and I knew ignoring whatever that was going on between us wasn't gonna help the situation either. I admit that part of me had asked her to follow me in the hopes that we could finally talk about it. Which explains why I was so nervous went I sent her that text.

To my great relief, she responded with a very enthusiastic, 'I'd love to!' when I checked my phone much later that day.

And here we are now, me in the driver's seat and her in the passenger's of my sedan, blasting music and on the way to some college. I glanced at her to find her already looking at me. Instinctively, she averted her gaze but just as quickly, she looked back at me. I guess she figured there was no point hiding.

"What?" I questioned with a smile, eyes back on the road.

"Nothing," she paused. "I just feel like I haven't seen you in a while."

"We see each other everyday."

"I know, smartass," she responded, laughing. "I mean, I feel like I haven't actually seen you for a while. How are you?"

The statement brought heat to my cheeks and I didn't need to look at her to know her eyes were piercing through my soul, wanting to know if there was truth behind the words that would pass my lips.

"I'm good." And it was true. Now that she was here, I've never felt better.

We made it to the first place on our list, Hartfeld University, which was also the school Emma was aiming for. We looked around together and I noticed that she was particularly interested in a cinematography course that was definitely perfect for her.

As we explore the campus, I could see her eyes light up and I knew she was exactly where she was suppose to be. I was happy for her but I couldn't help but feel a little jealous and insecure about my own future. I was so unsure and uncertain about what I wanted to do it made me anxious.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Emma asked me quietly as we walked through the courtyard.

"Hm?"

"You seem kinda spaced out. What's up?"

"Ugh," I sighed. "It's gonna sound stupid but I just realised how in over my head I am about this whole college thing!"

"It's not stupid, it's normal."

"Maybe, but god, I'm already uncertain about the present, how am I suppose to know what I wanna do in the future?"

Opening up to Emma had always been easy. She was a calming presence and whenever she was around me, I felt at ease.

She slowed down beside me and gazed at me. Once again, I felt nervous. "Uncertain about the present?" My palms sweated up as she spoke her next words. "What do you mean?" she asked even though I knew she knew exactly what I meant.

This was the moment I was waiting for, right? To finally confront my feelings about her and confirm hers. To finally have a talk about us. But I didn't. It was the main reason I asked her to tag along but yet, I wasn't ready. And to be honest, I'm not sure if I ever was gonna be ready.

"It's okay," I said. "If you're done here let's head on to the next uni."

"Okay," she uttered. I could sense the disappointment, as if she wanted me to share more. As if she was hoping I was gonna bring it up.

I ignored it and drove to the next place on out list.

After a few more stops, we finally made it the uni of my top pick; Belvoire University.

We made our way around the campus and looking at all the students there made me feel intimidated but having Emma by my side grounded me. I found myself wondering how on earth I could've ever felt awkward around her over the past week. She was my calm in the storm and I definitely would've been having a panic attack without her.

But then I felt her hand graze against mine as we walked and I suddenly remembered why. As much as she calmed my thoughts, she was also the cause of it to go into overdrive.

My initial instinct was to move away and brush it off as an accident but with everything that had happened between us lately, could it have been intentional? My mind raced. I may not have been ready to talk about it but that didn't mean I couldn’t act on it and test the waters.

Steeling myself, I decided to take the leap of faith. I sucked in a breath and let my hand brush against hers, as light as a feather. I felt her hand stiffen and for a moment, I thought I misread the entire situation and made a mistake. Our friendship has been put through the wringer and I don't think I could take it if anything else happened.

But something did happen. Something that would change our relationship as we knew.

She reached out and held my hand.

This action may seem small but it was the hugest thing to me. We've never held hands before and it felt strangely intimate. Maybe it was because I've never held hands with a girl, let alone a girl I liked, but the contact sent a jolt up my arm and through the rest of my body.

I turned my head to Emma's direction to find a small grin playing on her lips. I glanced down at our intertwined hands. My heart fluttered and I felt myself smiling at the sight.

So this is what it feels like.

We continued to walk down the pathway in comfortable silence, arms swinging slightly by our sides with our hands still in each other's. The soft hand in mine felt nothing like the rough ones I was used to. It was different. A good different. A better different.

Eventually, we came to a point where we decided to part ways to explore on our own since we wanted to check out different things. Emma's hand slipped out of mine and I ached to grab it and never let her go. But I stopped myself and watched her leave my side, waving me a goodbye.

"We'll meet back here when we're done, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, trying to mask the disappointment and anxiety I felt without her by my side in a foreign place despite finally feeling like I could be myself here.

Gripping the pamphlet in my hand, I strode to one of the buildings but almost immediately realised I had no clue where I was going. I looked around, trying to decide who I should ask for help. I saw a bunch of rowdy frats boys and snobbish sorority girls and made the subconscious decision to steer clear of them.

I peered around more and my eyes landed on two girls sitting by a picnic table by themselves. They were giggling with their arms around each other. They looked like they were in a world of their own even though there were plenty of people around them. Something about them drew me towards them. Before I could think about it, my feet led me to their direction.

"Uh, hi!" I interrupted, announcing my presence to the,. Both heads turned to look at me. "Sorry to intrude, but I was wondering if you could help me?"

"Sure thing! What can we do for ya?" replied one of the girls with a slight country twang.

"Well, I'm touring the university and I think I'm a little lost," I chuckled nervously.

"Oh, babe," the other girl in a pineapple jacket said to me sympathetically.

'Babe?' I thought, feeling myself blush. I knew it was friendly but being called that by someone pretty was bound to have that effect on anyone.

"Forget the touring, if you want to survive Belvoire, you gotta know how things are run here."

That piqued my interest.

"What do you mean?"

Both girls just looked at each other.

"You might want to take a seat for this one."

I did and they explained all the essentials I needed to know. By the time they were done, I was pretty sure I was staring at them in disbelief.

"Oh," was all I could say in response.

"Yeah, Belvoire isn't for the faint of heart," explained the girl with the accent. "I swear the only reason I'm still here is 'cuz of this amazing woman right here." She nudged the girl beside her and smiled.

"You give me too much credit, darling."

They leaned in and kissed each other. When they pulled back, they stared into each other's eyes, smiling softly at the other. They looked so in love. I wondered if I could ever have that. Not only being crazy in love with someone who felt the same way towards me but being comfortable and confident enough to show that love off to the world.

I may have been staring too long and hard at them even though I was lost in my thoughts 'cuz one of them asked, "what's wrong?", breaking my reverie.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "You guys are just cute together."

"Tell us something we don't know," joked the girl in pineapples and I laughed along but then she added, "So who's the girl?"

I froze. "Wh-what?"

"I was once where you are at one point in time. I know that look. And I know that you're dying to talk to someone about it so c'mon, you can tell us."

I sighed. There was no point denying it.

"My best friend," I muttered and hid my face behind my hands. "Who also likes these two other guys."

"Oh, babe," she said again.

"I know. I know, but I can't help it, she just feels... right. Like we were made for each other." I slapped my palm against my forehead at my words. "That sounded pretty cheesy, huh?"

"A little," the other girl giggled. "But trust me, if it's true, it's true." She took her girlfriend's hand and kissed it.

"Okay, cheeseballs, let's get back on topic." Pineapple Girl said but she was grinning. "Do you know if she likes you back?"

I scrunched my brows. "I think so? I mean, I can’t say for sure but I do have a strong feeling she might."

"Here's my advice. Just go for it. Even if ya think you have the slimmest chance, just go ahead and try your luck," said Country Girl. "And that goes for anything in life."

"But we've been friends for years, and I don't want to screw it up if things go south."

"But could you live with yourself if you never tried?" asked Pineapple Girl. "Could you settle for good if you knew you had the chance to make it better? Every stroke a painter does could risk their masterpiece but it's also another step closer to creating something beautiful, so go create something beautiful.

"Okay, Plato, when did you become so philosophical and wise," her girlfriend teased.

"You still have a lot to learn about me, love."

"Looking forward to it."

They continued their flirty banter but their words stuck with me and struck something within me, which made me ponder. Would I risk our friendship for something greater? Could I?

"I may have another problem," I interrupted. "I'm not exactly out. To anyone."

"Not the most progressive place you live in?" asked Country Girl.

I snorted. "You could say that."

"All I have to say is people will surprise ya."

"I'm just scared people will start treating me differently and stop talking to me."

"They aren't worth your time anyway, then. But I grew up in the Midwest and maybe I was lucky, but I definitely didn't have it as bad as I thought I would. I'm not saying you should come out if ya don't want to, but if you're ready, I suggest giving people a chance."

"Hey, worse come to worst, you're leaving for college soon anyway, so it would be the perfect place to start over," Pineapple Girl joked. "Belvoire might be a hellhole at times but our sexuality isn't a grievance here."

Listening to them made me see things in a new light. Maybe I was ready to deal with the feelings between Emma and I. I looked around and saw all the college students minding their own business and realised I had no reason to be intimidated. They didn't bother that I was some high school kid. They just didn't care.

And usually, I'd be extremely cautious about my every action, not wanting to give away the fact that I was not as straight as everyone back home thought. That I was gay, a lesbian. But being here, with Emma, when I was holding her hand, that wariness faded and I felt like I could finally breathe easy again.

Just then, I spotted a familiar figure making her way towards us. Even in a place full of eccentric people with unique personalities like Belvoire, she still shined the brightest. Like a diamond in the rough, a rose among thorns. And I was proud that I got to call her my best friend. My first love.

"Hi!" she greeted me with a smile. "I was wondering where you went."

"Hey, how was touring?" I asked, gesturing her to sit beside me.

"So boring without you." She pouted and grabbed onto my arm. My skin under her palm tingled. "But the people here are definitely... interesting though."

"You can say that again," Country Girl said with a laugh.

"Oh, right," I said, forgetting that we were in company. "Emma, these are-" I paused and turned my attention towards them. "Sorry, I don't think I caught your names."

They laughed and Pineapple Girl introduced her and her girlfriend.

"I'm Zoey and this lovely woman right here, is Bea."

"I'm Ava, by the way."

Emma also gave them a little wave and a smile to be polite.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Ava, Emma." She checked her phone and looked up to address me again.  "As much fun as it was talking to you, Bea and I have somewhere we need to be soon."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to take up that much of your time."

"It's fine, babe." At the mention of the pet name, I felt Emma beside me tighten her grip that was on my arm. I raised a brow. Was she jealous? "It was nice talking to you."

Emma and I moved to get up and Emma was a few paces in front of me when Zoey called out to me.

"Ava, hold on just a moment."

I turned to look at her. "Yeah?"

"She likes you too, I can tell."

Bea butted in, teasing. "Zoey would know, right, bestie?"

Zoey rolled her eyes but pulled her girlfriend in closer to her to give her a side hug.

I caught up to Emma and we made our way back to my sedan.

So I wasn't just imagining thing.

It was gonna be sundown soon but I wasn't ready to say goodbye to Emma just yet. It's been hours but I still have yet to do the thing I mainly invited her for. And as if she read my mind, she spoke up.

"Where to next?"

I looked at her, confused. "Um, home?"

"Oh," she said softly.

"Unless," I quickly interjected. "You want to do something else? Before I send you back?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw her bite her lip and give a tiny nod. "I don't want to say good bye to you yet."

My heart did a flip at her words and at the tone of her shy voice.

"Me too," I admitted and saw smile. "Alright, I know exactly where to take you."

I drove us to an open field that was seemingly in the middle of nowhere. I parked alongside a few other cars and Emma glanced around. She took in the sight of the other cars and then noticed the big screen in front of us.

"We're at a drive-in theatre?!" She asked, shouting.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to check this place out ever since I heard about it. And since it's on the way and I know you've always wanted to go to one so I thought why not." 

She stared at me, speechless.

"Unless this was a complete mistake and you want to go somewhere else then it's-"

"No! No, nothing like that!" She cut me of as she lunged towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Thank you!"

"Oh!" I returned her hug, resting my arms around her waist while chuckling. "You're welcome."

She squeezed me tighter before pulling back to her side again. I could feel myself blush furiously even minutes later. We talked for a bit before the movie started playing.

It was hard to focus on the film playing on the giant screen in front of us when beside me was the most gorgeous girl I knew. Her hand rested beside mine in between us.

My eyes may have been directed straight ahead but I was hyperaware of the tiny gap separating our fingers. Any closer and it would touch.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long to see what would happen next. Emma's pinky brushed against mine and I averted my gaze down towards our hands. That simple gesture was a dare, a taunt. 'Come on, do it'. Ironically, it was also all the encouragement I needed.

I hooked my pinky around hers, waiting for her to pull back but she didn't. Slowly, I placed my hand on top of hers and gently squeezed. She took the next initiative to finally turn her hand so her palm met mine as our fingers interlaced.

I sighed, letting out a shaky breath which caught her attention. Her eyes shot in my direction and that action caused me to do the same to her. Her gaze glanced down at our interlocked hands and immediately back up to my eyes. She stared at me as I stared at her, the movie long forgotten. I could see the flame in her eyes as they bore into mine.

And in that moment, there was nothing in the entire universe I wanted more than to just kiss her.

I found myself leaning forward and maybe it was too dark to tell, but I was certain I saw her do the same.

I stopped myself before moving any further. My brows furrowed even as my eyes searched her pretty brown ones. Was I willing to risk our friendship? What we had was good. I thought back to Zoey's words. It was good. But it could be better. And I sure as hell would rather try than remain wondering what could've been.

"Ava," she drew out just above a whisper.

Maybe I wasn't ready to talk about it, I don't know when I'll ever be. But action speaks louder than words and I wanted to be as loud as possible. I was tired of pretending and hiding and I didn't want to wait any longer.

I held the back of her neck and crashed our lips together. The instant our lips met, I melted into a sigh. If I thought feeling her body pressed against mine was electric, the way her lips felt on mine was explosive.

I was invigorated from the way her lips moved on mine, exhilarated from the way her hands grasped onto my shirt, intoxicated from the way the scent of her perfume fogged my sense. Energy surged through my body and chills ran up my spine.

If this is what kissing was supposed to feel like I never wanted it to end.

Her hands left my shirt to travel down my arms and then to the small of my back. Her touch even through my clothes was making me heady. She bit my lip and that's when I lost it.

"Oh, Em!" I moaned into the kiss, unable to help myself.

The sound seemed to push her further. Never breaking the kiss, she got up from her seat to cross over to mine. She straddled my lap and locked her arms around my neck. My hands gripped her hips in response.

My body burnt as we kept kissing. She was driving me crazy.

"God, Ava," she groaned softly which ignited a fire within me. "You're amazing."

"Mm," I hummed in acknowledgement as my hands trailed to her thighs, giving them a squeeze.

The kiss was slow and intense. It was emotional and personal. I could sense that she was as eager as I was but we kept our pace, taking our time and enjoying the feel of the other against our own until we finally broke apart.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that," I panted, my arms encircling her waist to pull her closer into me.

She giggled and gave me a kiss on the forehead. She still had her arms around my neck as she brought my head to her chest and rested hers on top of mine. I could feel her heart beat going a mile a minute. "I have some idea."

She pulled away to look at me.

"What?" I questioned, laughing.

"Earlier I told you I feel like I haven't actually seen you in a while. What I meant to say was that you are absolutely breathtaking and beautiful and awe-inspiring and I can't believe I'm lucky enough to be here with you."

I let out a huge grin at her confession.

"I feel the same way about you," I whispered before pulling her back into another kiss.

As we kissed, the only space that existed was us in my car. The movie playing, the other people, everything outside, it was all distant. It was all in the background. The only thing that mattered then was Emma and I in that moment and with every brush of our lips, we were creating something beautiful.

Together.

(More fics!)

~*~*~

Bonus scene!

“Zo!” I felt my girlfriend nudge me.

“Yeah, babe?” My eyes that were trained on the screen averted to look at her.

“Is that Ava over there?”

“The girl we met earlier?” I squinted in the direction she was pointing at. Despite it being dark, I could still recognise the face and figure shifting in the car parked a few spaces away from ours. “Oh! It is!”

 “And she’s with Emma?”

We watched as they leaned in towards each other. After a short while, Ava grabbed the back of Emma’s neck and their lips connected!

“And now they’re kissing?”

I laughed and said, “She wasted no time with that. I’m proud of her.”

“They’re so cute,” Bea said with a smile, looking back to me.

“They are,” I agreed. “But so are we!”

She giggle and nodded. “Of course we are.”

I gave her a peck on the cheek before resting my head on her shoulder and enjoying the rest of the movie.

[dramatic-squirrel]

Daminette December Day 1- Inspiration

Here is my first attempt at writing for Damianette December. For my own sake, I have chosen to be liberal with the themes but (at least to me) they still fit, so fight me.

@daminette-december2019-2020

Her mind was blank. Even though she saved Paris on a daily basis, could create a new stage outfit for Jagged in 3 days and babysit for Manon, she couldn’t solve this problem. It was her first Christmas with Damian and she was spending it in Gotham, yet she couldn’t figure what to give him.

“Tikki, what am I supposed to do!? I don’t have any ideas. I want it to be perfect but I don’t know what to give him.” The park was empty except for them, everyone else was inside avoiding the cold.

“You don’t have to be so nervous Marinette. Damian will love whatever you give him.” Tikki patted her in comfort through the purse she was always in.

“Yes, but I want it to be perfect. It’ll mean more if I put a lot of thought into it, it’s just that I can’t even think about what to get in the first place,” her pacing left a long trail of footprints in the snow. “I don’t want it to be generic, but his family is rich. He literally could get anything he wanted, what do you get someone who could just buy it themselves anyway?” At that point, the only thing she knew for certain was that she was going to handmake the gift.

She didn’t want to mess it up either. She really liked Damian. Unlike her, he was always composed and calm and even though he came off as rude to most people she knew that he really cared about those he let into his life. She saw how gentle he could be, especially to his pets, and she saw how his pets trusted and loved him. She knew that, despite the fact that he claimed his friends and family annoyed him, that he cared about them. She even bet that he would do everything he could to protect them.

Damian was amazing, and the one final thing she knew about him was that Damian wasn’t really used to affection. He brushed off Dick’s constant care towards him, even though Damian relied on Dick the most out of everyone in his family.

So she wanted to make something special for him, that would show that she also cared about him. But no idea’s were coming to mind.

“Why don’t you try walking around Gotham a bit, Marinette?” Tikki’s voice was reassuring. “You always come up with great ideas when you look at the environment around you. I’m sure if you looked around Gotham, where he lives, you’ll come up with something.”

A sigh left her in resignation. “You’re right Tikki,” she tried to be positive about it all. She still had time, and she always managed to solve her problems in a pinch. Her confidence restored itself as she left the park to go wander around the city he called home for the past six years.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Things were not going so well for Damian either, although he had to admit, he hadn’t seen a problem until Grayson had brought up the issue. 

“So, Babybird, want to tell me what you got Marinette for Christmas or am I going to have to guess on my own,” he barged into the room like he owned the place.

“What are you talking about, Grayson?” The complete confusion on his face clued Dick in to the fact that Damian was not in fact joking around. 

“You are aware that Christmas is coming up soon right?”

“Yes?”

“Okay,” the utter despair on Dick’s face as he realized what this all meant. “I’d have expected this when you first came here but, you do know that it is usual to give gifts to people on Christmas, right? Bruce has celebrated Christmas with you, I think you’ve even given Jon a gift. So, you know that your supposed to give a gift to Marinette right?”

For the first time in his life, Dick saw Damian look uncertain about something. “Well, I assumed since we’ve only known each other for a few months at this point, that we didn’t know each other well enough to present appropriate gifts to each other. After all, I doubt she knows all of my interests or what i might need, and I certainly don’t know that much about Marinette. In fact, I doubt that she is getting something for me in the first place.”

Dick could only shake his head in dismay as he placed a hand on Damian shoulder. “I can tell you, without a shred of doubt, that Marinette is preparing a gift for you. She’s the kind of person that gives everything her all, including her relationships. Lucky for you, there is still time to get her something, so do you have any ideas?”

Shocking him further, Dick saw another emotion on Damian’s face that he’d never seen before, panic. Damian had no idea what to do, he never really had to think about getting gifts for others. He never cared about anyone enough to have to deal with this but, Marinette was different. She was sweet and understanding and badass, she could handle her own against some of the Gotham Rogues with no problem. And when she smiled it was so bright that it rivalled Grayson’s, it was like an angel smiling in front of him. 

He never really cared before if people hated him but, Marinette was different. “What do I get her Grayson? I don’t know nearly enough about her to get her something she would like.”

“You know that she’s a fashion designer, you could give her something related to that.”

“That’s idiotic. I know nothing about what she would need or what would be the best present. She probably has most of the essentials and I have no clue what specific equipment or supplies would be most useful for her. Maybe I should do some research on Marinette to find out.”

“No no no. Wait a minute Damian. I’m here to stop you from doing stupid stuff like that. Before you invade her privacy and screw things up lets calm down and think this through a bit more.” He managed to stop Damian. “If you aren’t sure what she would like, or need, how about you make something for her. Marinette makes a lot of things by hand so she would know and appreciate the hard work you’d put into making a homemade gift.”

Damian nodded his head in understanding. “I am good enough at painting that I should be able to make something that she would like, but I still have to know what to paint. Thank you Grayson, I need to ponder over this for some time.”

He left the room without looking back at his brother. Grayson just committed to watching over his younger brother until he was sure that things were going to be all right.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days before Christmas, Marinette and Damian met in a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that Tim recommended to Damian. Since Marinette had to go back to Paris soon to spend the holidays with her parents and helping out at the bakery. They decided to celebrate Christmas with each other a bit earlier.

They sat down and ordered their drinks, hot chocolate for her, and a cup of Assam tea for him. Their drinks arrived and before Damian could bring it up, Marinette spoke up first.

“So, I know we never really discussed this beforehand but, because it’s the holiday season, and I wanted to give you something nice, I got you a present. Of course, you might not like the gift and if you hate it I’d understand and I can get something else for you but, I hope you like it.” Her rambling cut off as she shoved the package she was carrying in his face.

The gift was long and rectangular. It was wrapped, in much to his secret embarrassment, in dark green wrapping paper with the Robin logo stamped all over it. Sometimes he wondered if Marinette actually knew his identity as Robin. He opened it up and stared in surprise at what she got him.

“I was having trouble deciding what to get you, when I was walking around Gotham and I saw a shop that sold old weapons, like swords and stuff,” she started to explain. “I remembered that you had this katana in your room that didn’t seem to have a sheath and I got inspired to make this for you.” 

The katana sheath she made was a dark green, so dark that, unless under bright light, it looked black. In a black paint, that was almost obscured by the dark green, she added a subtly design to the sheath, a chinese-style dragon. Near the top of the katana was the only bit of bright color to the whole design, a bat painted in gold. 

The words left his mouth before he could stop it, “A dragon bat,” he whispered. He couldn’t believe how well the sheath fit him. From his favorite color to the subtle design to the reference to Goliath that she didn’t even know about. “I love it Marinette. It’s the perfect gift. In fact, it makes me a bit nervous to give you my gift now but, it would be rude not to.” 

When Marinette saw the painting and what he had painted, she was confused for a moment before tears started falling down her face. “Is that… me?” she had to ask because she couldn’t believe it. 

When she started crying he freaked out for a moment and quickly explained. “Grayson recommended that I make something for you so I made this painting. I had to think for a while before I could figure out what to paint. Grayson suggested that I paint a portrait of you as I see you, so I felt inspired to make this. I apologize if your upset that I painted you without asking first, I assume that’s why your crying?” He wasn’t really sure.

She shook her head. “No, no, it’s just, the painting is just so… I never knew you thought of me that way. It’s so touching, I’m actually really happy. Thank you so much Damian!” She pulled him into a hug, and although he tensed a bit, he soon hugged her back. 

Damian had chosen to paint Marinette from when they first met back in Paris. Except in the painting he had given her white angel wings and managed to make her look stunning. It was a painting that removed any doubts she may have had about his feelings her for, and it was a gift she was going to treasure for the rest of her life.

[starsinmylatte]

A Song Among the Stars Ch 3

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/tags:

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (never by Thrawn)

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Masquerade

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Summary: Lyra's life was turned upside down the day the Empire took her. Once a renowned singer and performer on the Outer Rim, she is now little more than a songbird trapped in a gilded cage. Forced to perform and used as Imperial propaganda for years, she grew to despise her life until one fateful night and a chance encounter with a certain Grand Admiral.

Author's note: Hi everyone! Please let me know if you enjoy chapter 3 of A Song Among the Stars. I'll have a masterlist soon with all of the chapter links, but here's the link for the first 2 chapters on Tumblr and AO3 here. Tumblr likes to hide my writing, so please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it!

A big thank you to @pala-din-djarin for formatting advice!! 💙💙

AO3 link here for chapter 3 if you'd prefer!

Song Suggestions At the beginning: Thrawn - AtinPiano The dance: Masquerade Ballet Suite: 1. Waltz - Aram Khachaturian

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

The edge in the Grand Admiral’s voice glittered with dark promise, and a tense silence fell. Even in my current state, I could tell that he was definitely not asking; his statement was little more than a scarcely veiled command. Bost stood incredibly still as the oppressive atmosphere continued. I could tell he was carefully considering his options, but there couldn’t have been many, as Thrawn’s commanding body language clearly showed he had no intention of backing down.

Suddenly, the sound of frantic footsteps broke the silence. All my muscles involuntarily tensed as my instincts screamed danger. Three more shadowy figures came running around the corner of the maze behind Bost. Fearing the absolute worst, I physically and mentally prepared to defend myself again. I dropped my weight evenly between my legs and shifted into what I assumed was a passable fighting stance. Apparently, the change in my posture did not escape my new friend even though I was still completely behind him.

“There will be no need for that,” Thrawn’s voice had returned to its original soft, dulcet tone, “excellent timing, Commander Vanto.”

How did he recognize him? It’s kriffing pitch-black out here!

I quickly decided it was a question for another time and relaxed ever-so-slightly as Thrawn acknowledged the newcomers. If he knew them, considering the present situation, it was currently good enough for me. Thrawn gestured back towards me and spoke again in an infuriatingly calm tone for the situation, “Please escort her back towards the ballroom. I will join you momentarily; the Commodore and I have something to discuss.”

I had no idea what Thrawn needed to discuss with Bost, but anything was better than me being chased down.

The three shadowy figures stepped into a patch of starlight. Any relief I felt earlier was amplified tenfold because Dreycolt and Arkmad were instantly recognizable. They stood slightly behind the third man, who I assumed was Vanto. All three of them looked ready for a fight, and their facial expressions flickered between worry and relief. Vanto gave Thrawn a curt nod before pushing past Bost and offering me his hand.

I don’t know him, but I don’t have much of a choice here, and there’s not really any time to think…. I have to trust my instincts.

Tentatively, I reached out and placed my hand in his; he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Vanto’s hands were noticeably calloused, which gave me another sensation to focus on. However, even with those feelings grounding me to reality, my frazzled emotions swooped in like carrion birds as the adrenaline started to wear off. Intrusive thoughts started to slip through every mental wall I had in place as he led me away from the maze and back through the garden.

Stars, what do they even think about this situation… How is this going to be handled? Is the Empire going to somehow blame me for causing a scene? Am I going to be the one punished??

Before I realized it, we had walked about half of the way back to the ballroom. Vanto led me to a nearby bench; I gratefully sat down and stared back in the direction of the ballroom. The flickering lights, laughter, and faint music indicated that the party was still in full swing and would be for some time. There was zero chance of me leaving early because the second part of my job tonight hadn’t even started.

Vanto took a seat on the bench directly across from mine, and I didn’t even have time to open my mouth before words came tumbling out of his, “Are you alright?”

I immediately recognized the accent, and it momentarily drew me out of my melancholy state. “Commander Vanto, you’re from the Outer Rim too,” I noted with as much of a smile as I could manage.

He returned the smile, but his deep brown eyes and creased eyebrows still showed unease, “Yes, I’m from Lysatra, but please call me Eli.”

It was obvious that Eli wanted to discuss the incident, but it was so very rare to meet another person from a world near mine on Coruscant that I actually felt slightly relieved. It was like having a small piece of home nearby.

Another pleasant change was that the starlight shone bright enough for me to fully see in this area of the garden. Eli’s tanned face seemed kind, even though half of it was hidden by a black mask, and his dark hair and eyes were a welcome contrast to Bost’s icy complexion. Maybe it’s a sign that everything will be ok.

I could tell that Eli was trying to find the right words to continue, but he only managed to gesture around like he was trying to pull them out of the air. That alone told me all I needed to know; he had a rather good idea of what Bost tried to do.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself as I nodded with all of the confidence I could muster. You must be strong. “It’s happened before. I didn’t have anyone to rescue me, but I survived then, and I will survive now.” I was reminding myself just as much as I was informing Eli.

His face paled. “This isn’t the first time?” He trailed off before nervously running his fingers through his dark hair. I heard him muttering something under his breath that sounded like a long string of swearing in another language.

Any chance of further conversation was stopped by the sound of footsteps and the arrival of Dreycolt. He was out of breath from running through the garden, but he still managed to get the words out, “I cannot apologize enough for what happened. We tried to get help, but….”

The apology is nice but pointless.

I raised a hand to cut him off. “I’m assuming you don’t know Bost like I do. That conniving bastard would have found a way to dispose of you both so he could get me alone. However, you getting help likely saved me; the Grand Admiral arrived at a very timely moment.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but a pointed look from Eli cut him off. I raised an eyebrow at the two men.

Eli rushed to speak first. “I was the contact if there was trouble, but we weren’t expecting anything like this.

Something doesn’t quite add up here…..

At that point, I noticed both Dreycolt and Eli had the same insignia on the shoulder of their uniform: an extremely stylized black tribal design with three heads. It was emblazoned on a grey circle, and the whole thing was ringed in red. They had to be from the same fleet, and if Thrawn knew them immediately….

Suddenly, everything clicked into place as I locked eyes with Eli. “You’re all from the Seventh Fleet, and Grand Admiral Thrawn is your commanding officer.”

“Quite perceptive.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden reappearance of Thrawn’s smooth voice behind me. Unlike with Dreycolt, there had been no footsteps or any other warning of his arrival.

Kriffing hell, why is this man so silent? He may have helped me, but that doesn’t give him the right to scare me out of my mind a few minutes later.

Concern flashed across Eli’s face as he wordlessly reached out to make sure I wasn’t too rattled by the shock. I took a deep breath and nodded slightly in reassurance. My thoughts raced through my previous mantras. You are fine. You are safe now. Eli shot an annoyed look at the man behind me as I composed myself and turned to face Thrawn so I could properly thank him.

It was still dark but I immediately realized that he was tall. Very tall. Even though I was looking up, my small stature combined with my seated position meant my gaze fell on his broad shoulders. I instantly noticed the crisp, white hue of his close-fitting dress uniform and the shining rank bar he wore confirmed his earlier claim. He was absolutely a Grand Admiral.

He smoothly stepped backward and acknowledged me, “My apologies, it was not my intent to frighten you.”

Any words coming out of my mouth died at the tip of my tongue as I finally saw Grand Admiral Thrawn fully illuminated in a patch of shifting starlight. All thoughts of this rank or thanking him abruptly left my mind as one thing became abundantly clear: he was not human.

Where the neck of his pristine uniform ended, his skin was blue. Not merely tinted with blue, but it was truly the beautiful color of a deep pool of water that had frosted over in winter. My gaze continued its path upwards and traveled to his face, which was partially obscured by an ornate mask resting atop high, regal cheekbones and an aquiline nose. From beneath the mask, his ruby eyes seemed to burn into mine like red-hot coals.

Trying desperately not to make a fool out of myself, I did my best to snap out of the shock. Grand Admiral Thrawn was the only non-human Imperial of any significant rank I had ever met, and I severely doubted any others existed. Every Imperial gathering I attended before this one had been filled with countless human guests, but I had only ever seen non-humans used as servers or entertainers. Talle, Kaia, and Ahni had never served a non-human Imperial, but almost all of the other handmaidens were non-humans taken from their worlds.

Why is he working for the Empire in this high of a position?

I fervently hoped the dim lighting hid any sign of my surprise. After all, no matter the reason why, this man was still a Grand Admiral. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t request some kind of a favor in return for saving me earlier. I knew enough legends about the types of favors high-ranking Imperials often pulled or traded, and I was already way more indebted to Thrawn than I was comfortable with. His appearance may have surprised me, but I refused to let my lack of knowledge show. I fully realized that lack of knowledge was a weapon the Empire had firmly pressed against my throat, and it was marking me as prey like blood in the water.

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, and mentally berated myself. This was all my fault. I had gotten too complacent and comfortable with the Imperials. I had no idea Bost was even here, but I let down my guard and accidentally gave him an opportunity. Dreycolt, Arkmad, Eli, and now Thrawn…… There was absolutely no guarantee that I could trust any of them.

Think, Ly, you have to think. These people prey on the weak, so you have to seem strong, at least for now. At the very least, use caution. Just get through this night.

It was like flipping a switch mentally; all of my walls flew back up, and my emotions dulled until everything was just numb. The sparkling, faultless personality I used in Imperial society clicked back into place. I inclined my head respectfully and addressed Thrawn, “Grand Admiral, I cannot thank you enough for your help tonight; your quick response to the situation likely saved me.”

“There is no need,” his voice was still impossibly soft as he regarded me. I lifted my head and met his eyes for the second time; the heat of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “From the state of his hand, I would say you were defending yourself admirably.”

My face flushed, “Still, I do not know what would have come of the encounter. If it came to a case of my word versus his, especially since I injured an Imperial officer, I doubt anyone would take my side.”

As a “guest” of the Empire, I had everything to lose based on my reputation. If I angered the wrong person or fell from social favor, I would no longer be useful as propaganda……. The weight behind my previous words went unspoken but was understood by all.

An indecipherable expression crossed Thrawn’s face. Krayt spit, he’s hard to read. Most people had tells that let me read their expressions like an open book, but the Grand Admiral seemed to be very different.

“However, I do have one question. What happened to Commodore Bost?” I couldn’t help the tiny falter in my voice when saying his name, but it was small enough to be excusable.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed and seemed to burn brighter, “I sent him to be treated for his injury. However, I made it perfectly clear that you were a guest and asset of the Empire, so his behavior towards you would not be tolerated.”

I mentally scoffed. So that’s what upset him. Not the injustice committed against me, but the mistreatment of Imperial property. I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the protection he had provided, but my blood absolutely boiled at his words. However, I gritted my teeth and smiled at him, “Again, I do not know how I could possibly ever thank you enough for this.”

I wasn’t worried about the medics treating Bost; they knew enough about Imperial society to keep their mouths shut on what and who they treated. Most likely, they assumed he was one of the many starting an after-party early. The rumors of the extreme tastes of some officers and politicians often spread like wildfire among the servants and handmaidens. Talle had been unofficially requested at an after-party once before, and she told me stories that made my stomach turn.

Thrawn inclined his head towards me in acknowledgment of my thanks, and I continued speaking, “However, I do need to return to the ballroom. The orchestra will be the main entertainment for the rest of the night, but I was requested to be available as an escort. I’m sure my dance card is already quite full, and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

After all, what good is propaganda if it isn’t thoroughly used, I thought dryly. It honestly did not matter to me if I kept anyone waiting; in my opinion, they could wait for all eternity. Unfortunately, it would matter a lot to my handler if they complained.

“Don’t worry, Captain Dreycolt and Lieutenant Arkmad will still be accompanying you. Both of them are already on your card,” Eli reassured me as I turned around to face him again. “I also took the liberty of placing myself on your card so that I will be close by too.” He pulled out a small datapad and continued, “We are all spaced evenly throughout the remaining time so that you will have someone checking on you often.”

Now that was reassuring. As much as I wanted to be wary of Eli, he seemed to be very kind and it was making it hard to keep my guard fully up.

I thanked him with another smile and reached up to check my hair. Thankfully, all of Kaia’s hard work seemed to have paid off. Not a single pin or gem felt out of place, and I chalked it up to a minor miracle. After a brief inspection, my dress was still pristine, and my shoes were fine too.

I stood up from the bench and turned to address Thrawn once more, but he had stepped off to the side and seemed to be in deep conversation with one of the medics. His current expression was much easier to infer because the poor medic looked terrified. I quickly decided that I didn’t want to know, and it was better that I didn’t ask.

When I glanced back towards the ballroom, Eli offered me his arm, and I accepted the gesture. He signaled to Dreycolt, and the three of us began the short walk back through the garden. Thankfully, it was uninterrupted and uneventful.

Arkmad was waiting for us at the same side door he and Dreycolt had helped me exit from earlier. He was fixated on the small datapad he was holding and muttering under his breath. The datapad looked very similar to Eli’s, but this one was exceedingly familiar.

I peered down at the list displayed on it, “So, who’s on the card tonight?”

“Oh, just the usual mix of the usual senators and high officers. You actually seem to be in higher demand tonight; the performance earlier must have really impressed some important people,” he responded with a sympathetic look. “It looks like your card is completely full for every dance tonight.”

Oh, joy. Sometimes I was lucky enough to escape the last few dances, but, of course, tonight couldn’t be that convenient. I sighed inaudibly and shifted my feet. At least these shoes are comfortable.

Arkmad tapped me lightly on the shoulder and gestured to the far side of the ballroom, “Your first partner will be waiting for you near that column. The next song is about to begin, so I suggest you get started.”

The first thing I did when I stepped inside was signal the nearest server. I took a glass of sparkling wine, quickly glanced around to make sure nobody was staring at me and downed it. I felt the effects of the strong alcohol almost immediately; one glass was nowhere enough to make me drunk, but I hoped it would further dull any remaining nerves. I returned the glass to the tray and ventured off in search of my partner.

The first few songs passed by quickly. The slight buzz from the alcohol lightened my mood and made it easier to tune out any faults of my partners. Some were heavy-handed with flattery or praise, intent on trying to steal me away for the night. Others had already indulged in too much alcohol to the point where their breath smelled of the wine and their steps faltered. At least they all seemed to be decent dancers, and I was skilled enough in social etiquette to politely refuse or divert the conversation.

I truly had no problems dancing; most of the time I rather enjoyed it. My education at the conservatory had included many lessons on the classical styles and different regional dances in addition to my more intensive singing lessons. We were all supposed to be well-rounded performers, so the education contained much more than just singing, even though it was my main focus. When I was taken to Coruscant, it was vaguely easy to learn any dances I didn’t already know. Most of my partners here were higher class, so they had some kind of dance instruction at least once; they weren’t always graceful, but almost all of them were bearable partners that only sometimes stepped on my feet.

As the orchestra played on, the long list on my dance card grew shorter. Some faces were new, but many were the same senators and officers that often requested me. Before I knew it, I had danced with both Arkmad and Dreycolt, and less than half of my list remained.

I told both men the same thing when they checked on me: the rest of the night was going well. They each seemed satisfied with that answer and moved to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. As Eli’s lively dance was finishing, he pushed his stray hair back into place with a gloved hand, “Miss Lyra, it was a pleasure.” He gave me a small bow as an excuse to lean in close and whisper, “Are you doing alright?”

I responded with a curtsy and an almost imperceptible nod. “The pleasure was all mine, Commander.”

He seemed satisfied with my answer as he walked off to join the other men on the balcony. I had turned to grab another glass of wine before my next partner found me when an all-too-familiar voice turned my blood to ice.

“I do believe that I have the pleasure of claiming the next dance. It seems the man on your card….. won’t be able to make it.”

I whipped my head around and stared directly into the cold, glacial eyes of Commodore Bost. Somewhat vindictively, I noted that his injured hand was bandaged and slung across his chest. He had also donned a plain, white half-mask that covered the scarred side of his face since our last encounter.

My heart raced in my chest; I scanned the upper balcony for Eli, but he was nowhere to be seen. I caught Dreycolt’s eye and he raced off with a panicked expression at the sight of Bost standing in front of me. Even though my heart was racing and panic rose in my throat, I knew that as long as I stood inside the ballroom he couldn’t harm me; even Imperials dew the line somewhere.

Bost reached out to seize my hand and I snatched it away from his grasp. “I refuse to dance with you. You aren’t the name on my card and I have no reason to accept your request.”

He clicked his tongue at me mockingly, “So defiant…” He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “However, I am a very patient man. I can be here all night if that’s what it takes.”

Another shiver ran through me at Bost’s chilling words. I closed my eyes and winced at the foul feeling of his breath on my neck. Suddenly, a looming presence appeared behind me and Bost quickly stepped backward. Assuming Eli came to my rescue, I turned around and gave a low curtsy in greeting, but I instantly realized my assumption was profoundly incorrect; the figure standing in front of me was dressed in white.

Still in my low curtsy, I raised my head and stared directly into the smoldering gaze of Grand Admiral Thrawn. His red eyes remained fixed on mine as he bowed and offered me his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Thrawn’s request rang in my ears. Did he actually want to dance with me, or was he just guarding an Imperial asset? Either way, I was incredibly grateful for his second timely arrival of the night. There was no other choice for me but to take his hand.

Before I could, Bost made a small noise of protest behind me. Thrawn rose from his bow and silenced him with a single look. The Grand Admiral’s voice had the same dark, commanding edge as it had in the garden, “Commodore Bost, your presence here is not required. I will be claiming the rest of Miss Lyra’s dance card tonight.”

My thoughts raced again at his statement. Sometimes a particularly wealthy or powerful person would request multiple dances a night, but someone claiming the rest of my dance card was absolutely unheard of. However, I highly doubted anyone would be willing to argue about it with Grand Admiral Thrawn if he was serious.

Bost must have realized the futility of his position; he glowered at me, turned away with a flourish, and exited the ballroom. I sighed audibly, “Thank you for stepping in again. However, I don’t wish to be a burden on you for the rest of the night.”

The corner of Thrawn’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Not at all. I believe it will provide an enlightening distraction.” He offered me his hand again, “May I?”

Kriffing hell, he was serious then. I gently placed my right hand in his left, and he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around mine. The orchestra played the beginning notes of the next song, a waltz, and he seemed to recognize the dance immediately. Thrawn murmured appreciatively, “ah, an excellent choice,” as he pulled me in until our chests were almost touching.

My cheeks colored slightly and I prayed he couldn’t tell. The familiarity with which he moved me was almost seductive when combined with his velvety soft voice and the lingering effects of the wine.

The dance began and we glided across the ballroom floor to the music. This was one of the more difficult dances of the night, so many stepped off to the side and watched the braver couples attempt it. I knew it by heart, but Thrawn led us with an intensity that told me he did too.

Some of my previous partners could dance very well, but none moved with the same warrior’s grace that he exemplified in every step. The feeling of his broad chest against mine and his strong arms firmly around me made my mind spin. He was so unlike anyone I’d ever danced with; he seemed to move with the same strength and confidence with which he commanded.

No, no, no... you are not doing this. It’s just the wine and your overcharged emotions running all over.

I distracted myself from the dance and his burning touch by studying the intricate pattern on his mask. It was white, but under each eye a thin strip of red in a slightly darker shade outlined the openings and made his gaze even more intimidating. An intricate pattern of entwining, golden snakes bearing their fangs delicately wove their way around the mask’s rim.

In the back of my mind, I came to a sudden realization: Thrawn was testing me. As the song progressed, he began using more and more complex movements. It was as if he was trying to see if I could keep up with his brutal pace.

Kriffing blue bastard. I’m not some little thing for you to toy with.

Well, two could play that game. I locked eyes with Thrawn, gave him the most stubborn look I thought I could get away with, and switched my step pattern up. If his gaze was smoldering before, now it was blazing. He flashed me a grin that was absolutely feral and twirled me out on his arm. As he brought me back in, he pressed me against his chest and dipped me low. He murmured in my ear and his breath smelled faintly of the sweet wine, “Very enlightening, thank you.”

The rest of the night passed in a similar fashion. Thrawn led and I matched his pace step for step, challenging him the entire time. By the time the final note on the last song rang out, we were both breathing noticeably harder. A single strand of his neat, dark hair had fallen into his face and I knew some pins had fallen out of mine. This was the first time a dance partner had made me break a sweat since I was at the conservatory.

He released me from his arms, and the loss of contact was more disappointing than I cared to admit. The Grand Admiral bowed one last time as Eli, Dreycolt, and Arkmad appeared behind him. His voice seemed to have the slight accent from the garden as he addressed me, “You dance quite artistically; thank you for indulging me.”

Thrawn turned away and shared a quick word with Eli, who had an expression of shock on his face. Their conversation lasted for a few minutes before he addressed me again. However, this time his accent was gone. “I’m afraid I must take my leave now, but Commander Vanto will see you safely home.” He reached up to push the stray lock of hair back into place and walked off the dance floor and out of the building. Dreycolt and Arkmad shared a look before following closely behind him.

Eli still seemed to be in a state of surprise. He shook his head like he was clearing out his confusion and offered me his arm, “Miss, if you’re ready, we can head outside. I have a speeder waiting for us.” I smiled at him as we walked out of the ballroom and into the crisp Coruscanti night.

Tags: @mittheresabosen @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @handbaskethell

[inadaydream99]

I love your works so much! Could I request a txt fanfic of Taehyun, kind of enemies to lovers where he accidentally ends up saying something hurtful but after seeing how sad the reader actually gets he just becomes all soft and comforting and maybe confesses?🥺 thank you!!

Hey, thanks for sending a request! This took me ages to write but I really hope you enjoy 😊

Can We Start Over

“Uh uh, no way! I’m not going with her.” Taehyun protests to Yeonjun, stomping his feet on the ground like the bratty child he is. Or well, you think he is anyway.

“Look. I can’t go cause I have too much work that needs to get done today. Just do me the favour and I’ll owe you, alright?” Yeonjun pleads, watching as Taehyun rolls his eyes and lets out a disgruntled sigh.

“Fine.” He caves in, turning his attention onto you. He glares as you sit on the sofa at the back of their practice room, minding your own business by tapping away on your phone.

“I haven’t got all day, let’s go.” Taehyun grumbles as he strides over to you.

Your gaze lifts away from your phone screen, wide, innocent eyes locking onto Taehyun’s frame. He looks so agitated just by the fact he has to socialise with you.

“Alright.” You comply as you stand up off the sofa, tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans before following behind as he walks ahead of you. “Bye guys, wish me luck!” You lightheartedly joke, waving to Yeonjun and Beomgyu as they momentarily pause their conversation to return the wave.

“So...” You awkwardly attempt to strike up a conversation, watching Taehyun’s irritated expression and seeing if it changes at all when you try to engage with him.

His head turns to look at you, expression unchanging as he shoots daggers in your direction. He’s clearly not in the mood. But it’s not like this is your fault. No, you’d only asked Yeonjun to accompany you to the doctors because you didn’t want to go alone. You had no idea that when he’d agreed it was out of the pure kindness of his heart and that he was double booking himself.

The waiting room is deadly silent, you and Taehyun being the only people present and it only unsettles you more that he is so cold towards you. You can feel the anxiety creeping up your body the longer it lasts.

When your name is called you stand up, brushing the palms of your hands down your jeans in an attempt to wipe away some of the clamminess and turn to look at Taehyun when he doesn’t make a move to stand with you.

“What. You need me to go in with you and hold your hand?” He snickers, his tone patronising as he raises a brow at you. You knew he would mock you but the doctors has always been a fear of yours. Ever since you were a child just the thought of going to the doctors had you on edge, and although you’re not really sure why, it’s one of the things that causes the most anxiety.

“Would you?” You timidly ask, vision falling to the floor when you hear Taehyun laugh harder. “You know what, forget it.” You mumble, walking away with tears pricking your eyes.

~

“How’d it go?” Yeonjun asks as soon as the front door opens and you walk through. You can tell he’s genuinely intrigued and cares about you, knowing that it’s a very daugnting thing for you to do. But Taehyun had soured your mood and you’re not interested in talking to anyone for a while.

Yeonjun shoots a quizzical look over to Soobin when you walk straight past them without so much as a glance. And instantly he knows that it’s got something to do with Taehyun.

“What did you do?” He flatly questions, his tone conveying how disappointed he is.

“She seriously wanted me to go in the doctors office with her. Can you believe that?” Taehyun laughs, still finding the whole situation amusing, unlike Yueonjun and Soobin who just stare him down, unimpressed with his attitude.

“Yeah, I can believe that!” Yeonjun raises his voice, fists clenched and teeth gritted as he becomes increasingly angry with the younger. “And I hope you did.” He glares at Taehyun, almost seeing red when Taehyun fails to answer.

“Seriously? You’re mad at me for doing you a favour. Just because I didn’t go into the office with (Y/N) doesn’t take away from the fact that I went with her.” Taehyun argues back. So he made you go alone, it’s not like it was a life or death situation.

“Do you even hear yourself Taehyun?” Soobin questions while he calms Yeonjun down.

“Oh I’m sorry, do you want me to go apologise to the spoilt little princess? Is that what you want? Cause it’s not gonna happen!” Taehyun continues to sass.

“Tae...” Soobin tries to cut in and stop his ranting.

“She always gets her own way! But you’re blind to it! Yeonjun go here with me, Soobin I wanna watch this movie, Kai I want to order pizza.” Taehyun mocks you in a whiny high pitched tone. His impersonation isn’t lighthearted and funny, it’s spiteful.

“Taehyun!” Soobin finally cuts him off, indicating for him to turn around.

“What, I— oh.” He begins, falling silent when he sees you stood in the doorway, lip quivering uncontrollably as your glossy eyes fail to hide the hurt.

As soon as you lock eyes with Taehyun’s you break, rushing out of their apartment to anywhere as far away from him as possible.

~

The moment Taehyun saw your expression he regretted his actions. The heartbreak in your eyes something that he can’t unsee.

“I messed up bad didn’t I?” Taehyun sighs as he rubs the palms of his hands down his face. HueningKai nods as he places the glass of water down on the table in front of him before settling on the sofa.

“Soobin said that Yeonjun has gone to make sure (Y/N)‘s ok, but I don’t expect that he’ll be talking to you for a while.” HueningKai informs. He’s the only one that is actually giving Taehyun the time of day, keeping him updated on the situation that he’s caused.

“That’s the least I deserve.” Taehyun mumbles, zoned out gaze locked onto the floor beneath his feet.

“Why do you hate her so much?” HueningKai breaks the silence that settles in. The question makes Taehyun visibly tense. He’d never realised that’s how it came across...

In all honesty Taehyun doesn’t hate you, he never has. He just finds it extremely entertaining to wind you up and he thought you found it funny too, considering you usually give just as good back. But today he took things too far, he was grumpy because he’d not had much sleep the previous night and was forced to go with you to the doctors. He’d taken his frustration out on you, even when you’d been too anxious to bite back.

“I don’t...” he mumbles deep in thought.

“Then show her that.” HueningKai encourages, patting his friend on the back.

~

“I’m gonna make him regret hurting you so much.” Yeonjun comforts you, his arm draped around your shoulder as your teary eyes peer up to meet his concerned gaze.

“You really don’t have to...” You sniffle, forcing a meek smile on your face.

“But Taehyun shouldn’t get away with treating you like this.” Yeonjun persuades, squeezing you in closer and shaking you a little to make you laugh.

“And he won’t. I just need some time.” You compromise, leaning your head on his shoulder and shutting your tired eyes.

“It’s funny, I always thought you two would end up together.” Your eyes shoot open, alert and freaked out. You and Taehyun? Together? Not in a million years.

“What on earth made you think that?” You blurt a little harshly, but it makes Yeonjun laugh none the less.

“I don’t know... it’s just, I see how you bounce off each other when you argue and I’ve just always thought that if you were to turn it around and work together instead, then maybe you would actually make a really good team.” He explains, watching your reactions closely as you pull away from his embrace enough to face him properly.

You’re not really too sure what to think or how to feel and initially the idea of you and Taehyun being together freaks you out. But, the more you let the idea sink in, the less repulsed you feel.

And the thought stays with you even after Yeonjun leaves to go back home, right up until you fall asleep. And in your dreams you find yourself imagining what it would be like to hold is hand and to feel his loving gaze on you... and to know what it would feel like to kiss him.

~

“Yeonjun at least tell me (Y/N)’s ok?” Taehyun begs, following Yeonjun around their dorm like a lost puppy. He knows that Yeonjun is bound to give in soon enough and stop freezing him out. But the longer it lasts the less hope Taehyun has of ever succeeding.

“She’s fine.” He grumpily mumbles, so quietly in fact that Taehyun barely catches what he says.

“Is she still mad at me?” He presses, taking the opportunity to find out as much information as he can while Yeonjun is actually talking to him.

“I don’t know Taehyun! If you want to find out that bad then why don’t you go ask her yourself.” Yeonjun spins around abruptly, catching Taehyun so off guard he almost crashes into him.

The resentful expression on Yeonjun’s face makes Taehyun take a few steps backwards, intimidated by the anger that’s radiating off of him.

“I just-”

“Feel guilty?” Yeonjun interrupts, his tone condescending. “That’s always the way... but just so you know, regret is stronger than gratitude.” Yeonjun continues when Taehyun doesn’t respond. He’s trying the get the message across to him that he only cares because he feels bad, because if Taehyun really does care about you then he will make the effort to make sure you are ok.

~

You’d decided to brave visiting the guys dorms, mostly because you have missed hanging out with everyone. But there is a secret underlying reason for your presence.

Ever since Yeonjun mentioned about you and Taehyun making a good couple you haven’t been able to shake the thought. It’s not like you’ve forgiven him for the way he has treated you, you’re just desperate to see him. Even if it is just in the form of subtle glances.

“I know what you’re doing.” HueningKai catches you off guard. He’d been observing the way you were constantly on the lookout, almost like you are waiting for something to happen... or to see someone in particular.

“What do you mean?” You play dumb, hoping he hasn’t really caught onto the fact you want to see Taehyun.

“If you really want to see him then what’s stopping you?” HueningKai leans in and keeps his voice hushed. He can tell you don’t want anyone else to know and he respects that choice.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure if I should... or if he would want to see me.” You whisper back.

“Trust me, he does.” HueningKai manages to respond before your attention is moved onto a knocking from behind you. “And that’s my queue to exit.” HueningKai speaks up as soon as he sees Taehyun standing in the doorway, standing from the sofa and making his way out of the room.

“I’m so sorry.” Taehyun immediately apologises the instant you are alone. You can tell he’s being sincere as he approaches you. “How I treated you was wrong and if I could go back in time and redo everything then I would.” He continues, his gaze not once moving from watching you.

“Please, you don’t need to say anything.” Taehyun quickly speaks up when he notices you’re about to respond. “I just wanted you to know how badly I feel about everything... and that I never once hated you.”

You aren’t sure how to respond. Of course you were still hurt by everything that’s happened but you know that sometimes it’s better to forgive and forget. Especially when you can tell that Taehyun’s apology has come from the heart. You can’t hide the smile on your face when you conclude to yourself that this is finally time for a fresh start between you. It’s what you’d been hoping for... it’s a sign that he cares.

“I don’t know what to say...” you beam, your grin so infectious that Taehyun can’t help but to reciprocate.

“All I need is one answer.” Taehyun pauses, continuing when you nod your head in encouragement. “Can we start over... as more than friends?”

The hopeful glimmer in his eyes makes your heart race and you swear you’ll never allow yourself to forget the elated grin the appears when you softly utter “yes” in responce.

You burst into a fit of giggles when Taehyun rushes over to you and picks you up, twirling you around in his arms.

“I promise to never hurt you again.” He whispers once you both recompose from your moment of joy, nuzzling his nose against yours affectionately.

And you can tell that he truly means every word.