#[i tried making a bracelet & fucked up. so i spent an hour it felt like unravelling it. abd then remaking it. oops.]

[euclydya]

girl. the . why can't i sleep.

[nhlclover]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: in the wake of your painful break-up with jack, you find comfort and blossoming feelings with luke.

warning: part two to this fic, bsf ! luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x reader, angst, jack once again being a terrible (ex)boyfriend, little tiny bit of swearing

word count: 2.93k

In the days that followed your birthday, your head felt like it was in a blender. The entire day had left you confused, hurt, and angry. The sting of Jack's absence was a constant ache, and the silence that followed was deafening. You hadn't heard from him at all — not even a ‘sorry for bailing on your birthday’ text. The uncertainty about your relationship status gnawed at you, making you question everything.

Luke had been a steady presence during this time, though he couldn’t provide any more information about Jack’s whereabouts or reasons. He had barely spoken to his brother since their blowup at the arena. Their encounters were limited to brief, awkward glimpses at the rink, where Luke made a point to avoid prolonged interaction. In the meantime, Luke had been staying over at your apartment and occasionally at Jesper's. You hated how you had come between two brothers, creating a rift between two people who had once been so close.

The days dragged on, each one marked by the same painful silence from Jack. You tried to go about your daily routine, but the weight of your unresolved feelings made it difficult to focus. Work was a welcome distraction, though your colleagues noticed the change in your demeanor.

One evening, when you were sitting on your couch, a knock at your door drew your focus off the baseball game playing on your TV. When you opened the door, you were met with a remorseful-looking Jack.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You hesitated momentarily, wondering if it was a good decision, but ultimately stepped aside and let Jack in. Jack had spent the last couple of days in a haze, his argument with Luke replaying in his head. His words had been harsh but true, piercing through the fog of Jack's self-deception and forcing him to confront the reality of his actions.

As he sat across from you at your kitchen table, the silence between you two was almost unbearable. Jack's eyes wandered, unable to meet yours, focusing instead on the bracelets on his wrists.

He took a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours. “I’m so sorry… for everything, y/n,” he said. “I know I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and I let you down, not just on your birthday but so many times before that.”

You felt your emotions rising in your chest, tears brimming in your eyes as you remembered your birthday. You remembered waiting throughout the night as everyone who wasn’t your boyfriend arrived to celebrate your birthday. The memory of the pitying glances you’d received as the hours passed by only amplified your heartbreak.

Jack reached out, taking your hand that was resting on the table in his. His touch was tentative as if he feared you might pull away. “I’ve been a fucking idiot,” he continued. “I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t important to me, and I know I’ve messed up more times than I can count, but… I don’t want to lose you. I need a second chance.”

You considered his words but couldn’t help but feel that they rang empty. You took a shaky breath, pulling your hand away gently. “Jack, it’s not a second chance at this point… it’s a fourth or a fifth,” you said. “The amount of times you’ve left me sitting in front of my mirror, my makeup completely done and so excited to go on a date with my boyfriend, only to have you text me that you can’t make it? I can’t keep doing that.”

Jack’s face fell, the true extent of his non-committal behavior sinking in. He looked down at the table, unable to meet your gaze. “I know, y/n… I’ve been awful, and I’ve let you down so many times. I can’t even begin to make up for all the times I wasn’t there for you.”

You wiped a tear from your cheek, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s not just about the dates, Jack. It’s about feeling like I’m the last thing on your mind, like an afterthought.”

Jack’s eyes snapped back to yours, soft and desperate. “You’re not an afterthought, y/n.”

“Jack…” you shook your head. “If I was everything to you, you wouldn’t have missed my birthday. You wouldn’t have let me down time and time again. I can’t keep being disappointed. I can’t keep letting myself get pushed around like this. I feel like I’m a little girl again, crushing on the older brother of my best friend, wondering if he’ll ever give me the time of day or even spare me a glance.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped as the weight of your words hit him, each sentence like a physical blow. He knew you were right. He knew he had no defense. No valid excuse. He could see the pain in your eyes, shown with every tear that came down from your sullen eyes.

Jack recognized he was at the point of no return. You weren’t going to let him keep acting like this, at least not with you. A silence fell between the two of you as you read Jack’s anguished eyes, realizing he’d backed down.

“You should go, Jack,” you said softly, the finality of the words hanging in the air.

Jack nodded, standing up. He hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but knew there was nothing left to say, nothing that could change the damage that had been done. He simply walked to your side, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, before leaving you sitting at your kitchen table, alone.

The door closed behind him with a soft click. You sat there a moment, the still silence of the apartment pressing on you. The reality of the situation finally hit you, and you felt a sob rise in your throat. You buried your head in your hands, the tears coming hard and fast, falling to the wood below you.

It was a mix of sadness and relief that washed over you. The sadness of losing someone you once loved deeply, and the relief of finally choosing yourself.

In the aftermath of your breakup with Jack, life felt like a whirlwind of emotions. Everything from pain to sadness to solace passed by you. Luke, true to his nature, was by your side through it all. The pain of Jack's absence was tempered by Luke's unwavering support. Slowly, you began to see him in a new light.

At first, it was the little things. Luke always knew how to make you laugh; his lighthearted jokes became a soothing balm for your broken heart. You began to notice how he always seemed to be there for you, how he never seemed too busy or distracted to listen. One evening, after you’d complained about your day at work, he came over with takeout and offered to watch the new season of Bridgerton, despite having complained about it previously. As you ate and laughed together, a warmth in your chest began to develop.

The next few weeks brought more of Luke's comforting presence. He came over to fix your leaky faucet that your super had neglected to fix despite your incessant asking. Each hangout also functioned as his way to check in on you, ensuring you were doing okay since the break-up. One night, he brought you a bouquet of flowers, just because he thought you’d like them.

The repeated small gestures spoke volumes to you, changing the way you saw Luke. You realized that he’d always been there, quietly supporting you, understanding you in ways that Jack never did. That realization hit you during one of your late-night conversations, as Luke listened intently while you told a story from your day.

The days passed and the relationship you once had as children came back in full force. You started looking forward to the moments you got to spend with Luke. You began to crave his company, seeking him out even for the simplest things like grabbing coffee or taking a walk in the park, even offering to work out with him despite having to go through his intense hockey regimes.

It all came to a head one evening as you sat on your balcony, watching the sun set upon the city. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, the cool breeze blowing over your skin. You turned to look at him, the setting sun casting a golden glow on his face. It was in that moment that you realized just how much he meant to you.

The more time you spent with Luke, the stronger your feelings grew.

However, with your blossoming feelings came an overwhelming sense of fear and guilt. Fear, because acknowledging these emotions might disrupt the delicate balance of your lives, and disrupt the friendship you'd both held dear for years. Guilt, because crushing on your ex-boyfriend's little brother, even if you knew him first, felt like a cardinal sin, and the idea of causing a rift between them was almost unbearable.

You found yourself in a near-constant state of inner turmoil. The joy of being with Luke was tempered by the anxiety of the potential fallout. What if Luke didn't feel the same way? What if he did? The questions spiraled in your mind, each one bringing a new wave of dread. You were scared of complicating things, of making a mess of something so precious. Your friendship with Luke was one of the most important things in your life, and the thought of losing it because of your feelings was terrifying.

As these emotions churned within you, you started to withdraw slightly, afraid that any small gesture might betray your true feelings. You became hyper-aware of every interaction, second-guessing yourself constantly. Did that touch linger too long? Was that compliment too heartfelt? You began to isolate yourself, creating a distance in an attempt to protect what you had, but this only made the feelings more confusing.

Meanwhile, Luke noticed the shift in your behavior. He brushed it off, as he knew how stressed you were due to work, but when it remained for weeks at a time, he couldn’t ignore the growing distance. He noticed the way you hesitated around him, whether it was when you were going in for a hug or when you laughed, and it was missing the usual genuine ring to it. It was as if a barrier had formed between you, sending profound unease through him.

He started to question himself, wondering if he'd done something to cause your withdrawal. Was he too forward in his gestures of friendship? Did he unknowingly overstep boundaries in his efforts to make you feel comfortable around him again? As he reflected on your interactions and the days spent together, doubts crept into his mind. Maybe he misread your signals, mistaking your friendliness for something more. The fear of having made you uncomfortable ate away at him, casting a shadow over his every interaction with you.

Luke finally decided he couldn't ignore the growing tension any longer. He knew he needed to confront you, not only to ease his own concerns but also because he cared deeply about your well-being. You’d been dodging his calls, coming up with excuses to avoid one-on-one hangouts with him. It pained you to do that, especially after experiencing that with Jack, but you didn’t know if you could be in the same room as Luke without the fear of ruining things coming back.

Since you’d been almost completely ignoring him, Luke knew his only option was to go straight to your place and confront you directly. After a game, he left nearly as soon as media was done, speeding to your place, where he knew you’d be. Because, even though you were ignoring him, he knew you would’ve watched the whole game, your eyes glued to Luke whenever he graced the ice.

The knock at your door at eleven at night sent a worry through your core, but when you saw the curly-headed boy on the other side, the worry subsided before morphing into a different type of fear.

“Can I come in?” Luke asked when you opened the door. He was right about knowing you had watched the game, glancing at the ESPN post-game highlights playing on your TV.

You nodded silently, letting Luke inside. He didn’t sit down, instead standing in the middle of the room, fiddling with the bracelets on his wrists. The sight was all too familiar to when Jack came over a couple of months before. The reminder that you were crushing on your ex's younger brother pounded in your mind, discomfort washing over you.

He noticed the tension in your posture, the way your gaze flickered nervously whenever he tried to meet it. “I… I can’t shake the feeling that something's off between us recently,” Luke said. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart clenched at the concern in his voice. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, putting up a mask of sincerity.

Luke could tell instantly that your vague answer was a lie. The way your arms wrapped tightly around your torso, one that donned his hoodie. “Y/n, if you think I’m believing that, you’re out of your goddamn mind,” Luke said.

You swallowed hard as you looked into his eyes, so full of warmth and genuine care, you found yourself unable to keep up the facade. You let out a sigh, shoulders slumping as you finally admitted, "No, everything's fucked."

His brows furrowed in concern, and he took a small step closer, a silent invitation for you to continue. "Luke, I… I don't know how to say this," you started, your voice trembling slightly. "But being around you lately… it's been… difficult."

Luke’s stomach churned as his fears suddenly came to fruition. He was right; he overstepped and misread your actions. You watched as Luke's expression softened even more, his eyes reflecting a mixture of confusion and concern. "Difficult?" he asked gently.

You took another deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. "I’ve been avoiding you because… I realized… I have feelings for you, Luke. And it scared me. Not just because of Jack and everything with him, but because you’ve been my friend for so long. I didn’t want to mess things up between us."

Luke's posture softened, his concern melting. "Y/n…"

You pressed on, unable to stop the flood of words. "I’m so sorry if this makes things awkward or if it complicates your relationship with Jack. I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings, so I tried to keep them locked away but being around you… God, it got so hard and I couldn’t keep pretending they weren’t there. I’m sorry for everything, I’ve screwed everything up."

You didn’t know when the tears started, but you felt them slide down your cheeks, dripping onto Luke’s hoodie you wore. When you finally finished, you looked at Luke, your heart in your throat. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you done freaking out now?”

You blinked, taken aback by his calm response. “What?” you croaked out.

Luke smiled, a genuine warmth that reached his eyes. “Y/n, I like you too. Fuck… I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, hope mingling with disbelief. “You do?”

As kids, your parents would always tease about the two of you maybe liking each other, which you’d always deny. Quinn would always poke fun at Luke, saying he was in love with you, but you always brushed it off. Cause you were just friends.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. I've been… scared, too. Scared of losing what we have, of messing things up. But… I can't ignore how I feel, either.”

Relief and joy flooded through you, mingling with the lingering fear. “So… what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Luke took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you, taking your hands in his. “Now, we take things one step at a time. And we’ll talk to Jack when the time is right. We figure this out together.” Luke told you. You felt your heart beat steady, Luke’s calming presence taking over. “But for now, can I kiss you?”

Your heart soared, and you nodded, a smile breaking through your tears. “Please.”

Luke's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that lingered. He leaned in slowly as you closed your eyes, anticipation fluttering in your stomach. The moment his lips touched yours, a spark ignited between you, sending a rush of warmth through your body.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Me too,” you admitted, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Luke pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The two of you stood there for a moment, just holding each other and savoring the moment. Eventually, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "What about Jack? How do we tell him?"

Luke sighed. “We’ll be honest with him. I’m sure he’ll be happy for us... Actually maybe not." Luke said, remembering his brother's words during their spat a couple months back. "But whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.”

You nodded, Luke’s words allowing your nerves to calm a little. "Okay. Together."

[catladyoftheyr]

Muscle Memory PT 2

PT 1

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Word count: 937, just a short chapter :)

Summary: you left something at the bar and Miguel offers to drive up to return it; Miguel has some alone time after work and has some ✨ fun✨ while he watches the videos he took last time (this chapter is really just Mig jerking off sorry not sorry)

Warnings: m masturbation, porn, no plot just smut really, mention of unprotected p in v and facials, mentions of jealousy.

Tag: @safixiovi

You’d been back home for a couple days and were heating up leftovers for dinner when you heard your phone ping. You picked it up and saw a text from Miguel

Mig: hey did you lose something?

You: maybe, what is it?

You racked your brain for any potential missing items, but you misplaced things fairly often so it could be anything. Your phone chimed again with an incoming picture from Miguel. It was your charm bracelet with your initials. It must have slipped off when you were at the bar. It looked like the clasp was broken so you made a mental note to get it fixed when you found time.

You: yeah it’s mine. Thank you for finding it! Can you hold onto it for a little while? I don’t know when I’ll have time to drive into town.

Mig: I can run it up to you this weekend. I don’t have any plans anyways.

You: That's like a 2 hour drive, Miguel. I can’t ask you to do that. Especially just for a bracelet.

Mig: good thing I’m offering then. We can make a weekend of it; the bar will be fine without me. Unless you were planning on having someone else in your bed this weekend ;)

You: who still uses the winky face? I’ll see you Friday.

You grabbed your food from the microwave and ate quickly, not caring that it was still cold in the middle. You were always so busy with work that you had a tendency to neglect household chores. As a result, your apartment had started to fall into disarray. You groaned, knowing you had limited time to clean and prepare for your guest. Luckily the kitchen wasn’t too messy, seeing as you weren’t incredibly fond of cooking. You loaded the dishwasher and went on autopilot to tidy the rest of your small apartment.

Miguel’s POV

Miguel locked the back door of O’haras behind him and made the short drive home. He had your bracelet safe inside his glove box and told himself he’d replace the broken clasp before Friday. He let out a deep sigh, exhausted from the evening's work. The bar had been busier than usual and Miguel had had to pull triple duty to call outs. Once past the threshold of his bedroom door he began to immediately peel off layers of clothing before collapsing into bed in just his boxers.

He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come, but he knew it was a lost cause. His mind drifted to the upcoming weekend plans. He wondered what you were doing, what you were thinking about, if you were thinking about him too. Were you alone like him, or was there another man in your bed? Miguel felt a pang of jealousy when he tried to picture you with someone else. He selfishly wanted you to himself.

Miguel thought about the nights you’d spent together, and told himself no one else could measure up to him; that other men couldn’t pleasure you like he does. He’d had his own string of lovers in his bed, but no one matched the chemistry between you and him. Miguel remembered how you looked going down on him, the devilish grin you wore when teased him. He felt his cock twitch as his thoughts grew more lustful.

Memories of the last weekend came flooding back to Miguel, and he grew harder thinking about the way you pressed against him at the pool table, how your mouth felt, and how fucking tight you gripped him when he pounded into you against his car. Miguel pulled his cock through the opening of his boxers and began to pump it slowly and deliberately in his fist. He opened his phone in his other hand and scrolled until he found the footage of him drumming into you. He turned the volume up as loud as it would go, the sounds of skin on skin and raw pleasure filling the room.

“Fuccckkkk” he groaned, slightly quickening the pace of his fist. The way you moaned drove him crazy. He wished he could video call you right now, show you how even when you’re not around he was still enamored by you. He watched the screen intently, remembering how it felt to be inside you, how your pussy gripped him just right. He watched himself grope at your breasts and how they bounced when he fucked you. Miguel’s breathing got heavier, and he stroked himself firmly, watching how your eyes rolled back when he hit your g-spot. He moaned your name as he saw you shake with your orgasm on screen; he bucked his hips into his hand as remembered how it felt to be inside you.

Miguel swiped to the photos he’d taken of you with his cum on your face. You smiled proudly at the camera, so eager to show off for him. He could feel himself getting closer to his own orgasm. “Fuck, nena” he gasped as he pumped his cock as fast as he could. Miguel closed his eyes and pictured himself splattering on your pretty face again, tongue out and eager to taste him. He felt himself shoot warmth out over his hand and torso and sighed as he came down to earth again.

He reached wearily for the tissues on his night stand and cleaned himself quickly. His eyes fell shut heavily as his fatigue began to set in. Miguel sighed as he reached for a spare pillow and rolled over hugging it tight to his check. Sleep came quickly now, and he was sure he’d dream of you.

[mudskip-drabbles]

“kinky” + cockwarming, collar ( obvs ) — Rick wants to make his boyfriend’s dick feel all nice and cozy, and I support him in this

well That didnt take you long (affectionate)

Giovanni had no idea who first came up with this whole cockwarming thing between the two of them, but it really didn't matter because fuck he loved having his pretty little boyfriend perched in his lap, panting into his ear as he waited like a good boy until Giovanni decided to fuck him stupid. He'd never even considered himself the domineering type, or much of any type before Odi, having only really dabbled in blowjobs and the like with fleeting hook ups when the urge struck him.

Now? Gio didn't think he could ever give up this up. He'd die without his perfect, beautiful, breathtaking boyfriend (and by extent, his ass. His dick wasn't to be overlooked either, or his sex drive. Gio had really hit the jackpot with this one)

Having the whole apartment to themselves, Molly currently at a 'slumber party' with Trixie and Feenie at the latter's giant mansion of a house, they decided it was the perfect time to catch up on one of the animes they'd started a few weeks ago, but hadn't found the time to finish.

The cockwarming thing...was just kind of a given, really.

They hadn't even talked about it, not a word that didn't involve the show passing between them as they tried to remember where they had left off. One minute they're bickering over which character had the better powers for evil, and the next Odi was sat snuggly in his lap, Gio's arms wrapped around his waist and a chin over his shoulder as they both tried to actually focus on the tv.

No wonder they could never remember where they'd left off.

Gio couldn't really say how many episodes had past since they'd begun, his attention only able to focus on Odi and how he was trying so very hard to keep still. A deep chested laugh was felt more than heard at the observation as Gio's hands slide along trembling thighs, only one breaking away to flick at the bell of Odi's collar, it just barely rattling with each tremor held at bay. -- It filled Giovanni with so much pride and warmth that Odi adored that collar so much, to the point he hardly ever took it off, Gio remembering how he'd said it was like a 'friendship bracelet but better' when they'd talked about him wearing one in the bedroom. Gio had spent hours painstakingly stitching the purple leather and the soft inner red velvet to perfection, and even longer setting a string of red, heart shaped rimstones around the band. The bell had been an afterthought, but as soon as he'd seen the heart shaped trinket, he knew it had to be a part of it.

That bell was the best decisions he'd ever made. (At least in terms of Odi and their sex life, but that was hardly the point).

"You ready for the next episode, baby?" Cooed oh so sweetly into a pointed ear, Odi could only get out a whimper at first, quickly realizing that if he opened his mouth, he'd more than likely only be able to beg for Gio to fuck him. As much as he wanted that, this little waiting game was much more fun.

So he gave a vigorous nod instead, teeth biting hard into his lip as Gio shifted to reach the remote, the new angle his dick now pressed at so very close to being exactly where Odi wanted, no needed it to be-

"Oooddiiii~" By the smug honey coating his name, that hadn't been the first time it had been called. "I just realized I was totally spacing out during those last few episodes, so I'm gonna play them again if-"

"No!" So loud and sudden, it had startled even Odi, his breath coming out much quicker after the squeak of protest. "I-I mean-" The thought was left unfinished, it being smothered by a tut tut tut as idle fingers toyed with that bell once more.

"What have I told you about lying to me, puppy?" It wasn't a reprimand, not really.

"T-To- To n-not to-" Nails dug into the arm still wrapped around his waist, Odi hanging on by just a thread as Gio purred:

"Very good~" Another whimper from Odi, this time being paired with a roll of his hips that had Gio's hands scrambling to keep him still lest he lose his composure as well.

"Not so fast, baby. I think you got something you wanna tell me first, isn't that right?" A near frantic nod that had fire shooting through both Gio and Odi's veins as the bell jingled in time. "Weeelllll...?" Forget a thread, Giovanni was only holding on by the wisps of what had once been a thread.

"I...I-I..." A whine, Odi once again trying to roll his hips, to get the slightest amount of relief. Just a little bit and then he knew he could keep being a good boy for Giovanni, he could keep going, he just needed to-

"Odi." Firm, it wasn't meant to be part of the scene.

"I need you-" Gasped out so quickly, Odi felt himself getting lightheaded as he slumped against his boyfriend's chest. "Please. I can't- I want to, but-" Silenced with a gentle shush, Gio pressed gentle kisses along Odi's neck as a reward, his hands leaving trembling hips to snake under his shirt that Odi had pilfered that morning.

"Good boy. I'm so proud of you baby, you did so good for me." Odi didn't even try to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks at the praise. "Go ahead, baby. Take what you need."

And that was all the permission needed for Odi to start bouncing on Giovanni's cock, his mind already blank as gentle hands helped guide him up and down.

"There you go, that's my good boy. Such a good little puppy for me." Giovanni sounded like a man drowning, but this wasn't about him right now. Odi was too far gone to form words at that point, only sob filled moans and half formed pleas of Giovanni's name able to fall from drooling lips.

Surprisingly, it was Giovanni that came first, the sounds of his boyfriend pleading breathy cries for simply Gio himself, anything he would give, just please-- It was too much. Sharp teeth dug into Odi's shoulder as he slammed his now sobbing boyfriend fully onto his cock, his hips thrusting up to earn the most precious little squeaks as he milked himself dry in a deep slow grind that had Odi seeing stars.

Odi himself had been gone the moment sharp teeth had sunk into his heated skin, the feeling of being so full too much for his mind or body to handle.

Later on, they would both be happy they'd had the forethought to wrap a blanket around their laps to save time on cleanup.

Breathing heavy enough to rattle the couch, they sat for several minutes simply basking in the feeling of one another, it being Odi that moved first when a flash of the TV caught his attention.

Looking up as Odi reached for the remote, Gio had just enough time to see the 'Are you still watching?' message be clicked away in favor of starting from the very beginning of the show they were supposed to be watching. Giving a laugh, Giovanni settled more comfortably against the couch once more, their earlier position of a hugged waist and a chin over Odi's shoulder being resumed as the opening theme rang out.

"Let's try to pay attention this time, kay?" They both knew that was never going to happen.

[loveandthings11]

Christmas in Connecticut ❤️

Summary: After being a little too dedicated to business school work and a little too inattentive to his relationship, Kendall shows up at Rava's house on Christmas Eve to fix things. Sweet Christmas fluff! Read on AO3

Merry Christmas, @tvgremlin!! 😘🎄🎅🏻

“It seems like you probably want space, so I’m going to go,” Rava says as she zips up her suitcase after a week staying with Kendall back at Harvard. It had felt weird to be at the business school after so many of their memories were made in on the undergrad campus. This week, she’d been disappointed to have spent too much time alone while he studied into the night and gave monosyllabic answers while staring down at the pages and declining almost every idea for date nights and parties. She’d decorated his apartment for Christmas while he focused and she tried to be understanding.

“No, come on, I want you here, I- just, you know, I had to study, you have no idea the pressure I’m under right now-“

“I have no idea? It’s all you talk about anymore,” she says. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to get the job no matter what.” He looks hurt, but she’s just done right now. 

“So- what, you think all this is for no reason because my dad’s just going to let me take over? You don’t think he’s looking for any reason not to give it to me? He already thinks I’m a lazy, partying-“

“Partying? You skipped all three of the Christmas parties with our friends last week, so if he thinks that…“ she trails off and stares at her shoes. Her eyes fill with tears and her voice breaks. “Everyone kept asking me if we’re breaking up.”

He softens and walks over to her.

“No, fuck, no, of course not,” he says as forcefully as he can without upsetting her further. “You- you told them no, right? I mean, you know that’s not happening.”

“Yeah,” she answers, not enthusiastically enough. “I mean, I know you had to study, but could there be a balance? I feel like I barely saw you.” She sighs and he feels annoyance, guilt, and worry converging all at once. She looks at her watch and glances at the sparkly tennis bracelet he’d given her last Christmas. “I have to go home.”

“No- wait, just stay and talk-“ he starts.

“I’ll miss my train,” she says.

“Take the helicopter.” He’s asking more than insisting. She shakes her head. She needs to have some time to herself.

“No… thanks, but just not this time. Okay? I’m gonna be late. I’ll call you.” He feels his stomach flip as she walks over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and walks out the door.

………..

“You’re leaving on Christmas Eve, Kendall, seriously?” Shiv rolls her eyes and her brother heads toward the door. "You're being dramatic," she echoes Caroline's old catchphrase.

“Yeah, I don’t really know why we’re acting like being in the same room is a good idea and I just- I have to go." He's not in the mood for verbal battles and has more important things to take care of.

“Guys, let’s just understand that our brother has a serious commitment to someone he’d rather be with than us tonight- his coke dealer,” Roman says loudly. Logan almost imperceptibly shakes his head in disapproval and the minuscule movement is missed by no one.

“Right, that's where I'm going,” Kendall snaps at Roman as he walks out, face burning. No matter how many times they spar, he can’t seem to make the words bounce off instead of sink in and cause him pain. Somehow the jokes don’t quite feel like jokes. He thinks about the only person who’s always on his side and feels like he’d do just about anything for one of her endless hugs right now. Maybe she’d see him tonight- it’s been two days since she went home for the holidays and he misses her.

An hour and a half later, he’s nervously standing outside her parents��� house wondering what he was thinking coming here when he’s never met her family before. He hopes she’s the one to answer the door and is relieved she is. She’s a little shocked to see him and quickly realizes that he must have needed an escape. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking up at her even as he’s a little slumped. “I should’ve spent the whole time with you, that was- I don’t want you to think I don’t want you to be there, I always want you to be there.”

“Okay. Well, thank you for that- are you okay?” She asks. Even through the uncertainty and upset feelings, she can’t stand to see that forlorn expression.

“I- yeah. I don’t know.”

“Festivities not so festive?”

He looks down.

“Not so much."

“Because… your dad was terrible and your siblings didn’t care?” Her expression is slightly bored. She doesn’t want to hear the same story as an excuse for him acting so distant last week. He shifts uncomfortably. She must be getting sick of him and his situation. If she’s not sympathizing then no one will.

“No- well, yeah, but I get that you don’t care,” He sighs. “Actually, I don’t even fucking care, I wasn’t even really… there. I was- in my mind I was here, and- I just wanted to see you and tell you I’m sorry. Doing it tonight is probably really dumb, I’ll let you get back to your whole family and everything.”

He turns back to the car and figures he’ll find a hotel somewhere. She looks at the snow on the ground for a second before deciding what to do.

“No, don’t go,” she says. He turns around. “It’s not dumb. I couldn’t really focus on anything here either.” She pauses. “I can’t just let you go back home.”

“No, I could go back to the city, get the Four Seasons, I guess. Last time the Plaza was kind of-“ she’s raising her eyebrows. “Yeah, whatever. Just not… there.” He looks at her and hesitantly takes her hand. “I-I don’t want space from you. I want things to be good.” She nods and holds his mittened hands.

“Me too.” She’s shivering without a coat and he pulls her toward him.

“Fuck, it’s really cold. Can I just… be with you for a while?” He asks, those eyes somehow bigger than they were a minute ago.

Sometimes she can’t believe he can still be vulnerable like this after being in a family like that.

“Of course,” she says. “It really is freezing!” She sees her breath. “Come on,” she says quietly, leading him into the house and closing the door behind him. They’re both relieved at the immediate warmth. She unzips his coat and gives him a hug underneath it to warm up further. He snuggles his face into her hair for a moment, absorbing her as much as he can. She looks up at him and gives him a kiss.

“I’m sorry about your family,” she says gently. She looks sad. “On Christmas Eve, too. I do care. I really care. Sorry it seemed like I didn’t, I was just- mad. You know I’m always here, right?”

He nods as he hugs her back. This is exactly what he was hoping for. They hold hands for a minute longer and she leans into him as he looks around the foyer. The seven-bedroom house is beautiful and spacious and full of cheerful Christmas lights. Happy holiday music wafts in and it smells like sugar cookies. Kendall feels a pang of envy. He thought scenes like this only existed in movies.

“So this is real, huh? You live on the fucking Hallmark Channel,” he smiles. “The cookies, the lights, the garlands, are-are you about to choose your small-town hardware store boyfriend over me?”

“This is Greenwich, Kendall. And you seem to know a lot about the Hallmark Channel,” she smirks at him.

“I work in media,” he insists. She doesn’t need to know about the secret Christmas movie he’d watched last week. It was romantic, but it had made him just a little anxious to see his type being portrayed as a shallow villain, and he wondered if she watched things like that.

“Yes,” she nods gratuitously. “Media. Of course.”

Rava’s mom comes into the room, pearl earrings and white cable knit sweater the perfect picture of the holidays.

“Oh, my God, honey, he really does exist!” She jokes.

“Oh, my God, Mom, you’re the worst,” Rava tries not to grin as Kendall watches her blush. “Mom, this is Kendall.”

“Kendall,” she says warmly. “I’m Cheryl. It is so nice to finally meet you. Just as cute as the pictures. You’re all I hear about from this one.” She pats Rava’s arm as she dies of embarrassment. 

“Okay, Mom.”

Kendall chuckles.

“It’s- really nice to meet you, too. And I’m glad to hear that,” he smiles at Rava, who refuses to look at him. “I brought some champagne,” he says, pulling out a bottle that only those in the know would understand costs as much as a small car.

“Oh, well, you’re even more perfect than I’ve heard,” Rava’s mom smiles in recognition at the bottle. Nothing she’d buy for herself, but something she wished to have. Kendall smiles at the idea of Rava saying he’s perfect. “Come in, come in- you better hang on to him, my beautiful girl.” Cheryl pets Rava’s hair and her daughter rolls her eyes. 

“I don’t have to stay long, you know, interrupt the whole Christmas Eve celebration,” Kendall says carefully as he takes off his coat and hangs it up in the closet.

“Don’t be silly! It’s one holiday of many in this house. We’re thrilled you’re here. Stay as long as you’d like.” Cheryl gestures to the menorah on the mantle with pretty gold twinkle lights strung across the mantle around it. She can picture the kind of cold, awful evening he must have left to come here on Christmas Eve without planning it. She has a feeling if he didn’t stay here he would spend the holidays alone.

“Have a seat by the fire,” she says, leading them in. Kendall and Rava sit on the couch and take in the warmth as she walks to the kitchen. Kendall looks around at the tall, grand Christmas tree, full of colored lights and personalized ornaments.

“Where’s your dad?” He asks.

“On the phone with my aunt and uncle,” she smiles. “They talk forever.”

“That’s nice,” he says genuinely. He can’t imagine. He wishes he and his siblings were like that. He decides he’ll text them something nice on Christmas tomorrow. One step at a time. Rava’s mom comes back in with a plate of decorated sugar cookies and champagne glasses. 

“Have some cookies. Calories don’t count at Christmas,” she winks. She pours the champagne and sits back on the comfortable armchair across from them, tucking a lock of hair back into her elegant updo.

“So, Kendall, how is Harvard part two? Business school as fun as college?”

“Not even close,” he smiles. “But it’s great, I’m- learning a lot.” Rava smiles. She knows he could probably teach some of the classes he’s taking after basically growing up in a business school.

“You probably don’t even need that,” Cheryl laughs. Her laugh is easy and light just like Rava’s.

“Oh, I do,” he says earnestly. “I’m- hoping to take over Waystar someday and I don’t think that would happen without an MBA.”

“Is that definitely what you want to do?” she asks him. Somehow she looks right through the façade in two seconds, just like her daughter.

“Absolutely. Been planning it forever.” She notices the automatic answer. He means it, but she’s guessing he’s never been allowed to think of any answer but that one.

“Then I’m sure you’ll do it,” she says sincerely. His honest look of gratitude makes her want to pat him on the head.

“Thank you,” he says. “I hope so. School’s pretty far from Rava in Connecticut, though,” he laments, looking at her for a second. God, she got prettier in the last two minutes. He didn’t think he could want her more, but he does. Rava looks at him for a second too long for there to be anyone else in the room.

“It is far,” Rava says. 

“I’m sure all those helicopter rides make it better,” Cheryl says with a knowing look. Kendall smiles.

“Yeah, it’s just easier,” he replies casually.

“Well, cheers to that!” She laughs and looks at Rava. “And cheers to your father probably actually attempting to wrap the last-minute gifts he got me. Honey, send out good thoughts that it’s those diamond bracelets we saw last month when we were out shopping!”

“Well, let’s hope!” Rava laughs.

Her mom takes her champagne glass and goes to find her husband.

“Your mom’s great,” Kendall says, already feeling more cheerful. He picks up a cookie and takes a bite. “I feel like- that went pretty well, right?”

“It went so well!” She takes a sip from her glass and pulls him to her for a slow kiss. “I missed you,” she smiles into his lips. He’s so relieved.

“I missed you, too,” he whispers.

She pulls the cashmere throw blanket off the back of the couch and covers them with it, laying her head on his shoulder and looking over at the Christmas tree.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” she says, wrapping her arms around him.

For the first time, he lets himself imagine what his life would be like all the time if he left the Roy fold. It hurts a little to think too hard about. It’s been planned. But he leans into Rava’s embrace. Maybe he can somehow have both. Maybe next Christmas she’ll have some new jewelry on her finger. He smiles at the thought.

“I’m really happy, too.”

[tsareviich]

@w4ntd : EUGENE KNEW HE WAS A GUY WITH A LOT OF ENERGY. but even he found himself suddenly running on empty. the move. his birthday. the excitement of experiencing pride in a new city. taking care of a new puppy. it was all a lot. part of him was worried as their anniversary approached. they were in a new stage of their lives together and eugene found himself coming up with a blank over and over again. they had a dinner planned. but it was too fancy for eugene to even pretend to pay for the bill. and any time he tried to look for a gift he found himself looking up furniture for the new apartment or dog toys.

and then the unthinkable happened. he had spent so much time fretting over a gift that he didn’t even imagine that he would be spending… boyfriend-less. and part of him felt like it was alexander’s fault. maybe the one percent really could control the weather. it just seemed too according to plan that vasily’s first business meeting happened to fall at the end of June and butted right up against their anniversary. though that would require the man to care enough to remember the date he wished didn’t exist.

one canceled dinner plan and a long workout to work through his emotions, eugene flopped on their bed. his hair was still wet from the shower as he waited for his video call to go through. his fingers toyed with vasily’s anniversary gift. a simple braided purple and blue bracelet with their initials with a heart in between. simple. and maybe a little immature. but it had made eugene simple and he hoped it would make vasily smile too. though the smile was different than the one he attempted to plaster on his face as the video connected.  ❝ happy anniversary, my love. ❞

he knew agreeing to this trip would be a bad idea. it was close to their anniversary, yes, but vasily had figured he'd be home in time, even if it was cutting it a bit close. even if he got in that day, he would have been okay with that. half a day together is better than nothing. which is... exactly what he's getting. and it angered him. he wanted to blame his father, but vasily doubted he even knew it was his and eugene's anniversary anyway. plus with how many daughters he just happens to be introducing vasily too, it was no surprise his father didn't know (or care).

vasily had been on the phone with the airline for hours, almost begging for a way to get him home. he had been close to begging a few times, but never got that far. though he's pretty sure he did make a few people cry, but that was... mostly an accident. he didn't understand why they couldn't get him home. it wasn't even raining that hard. just... drizzling a bit. hurricane warnings, please. they were being dramatic. it was fine. he wanted to get home to eugene and no amount of weather would stop that... until it did.

at least seeing eugene, even if it was over video chat made it better. " happy anniversary, my darling. i wish i was there but the fucking flights are canceled. " he mutters something under his breath in russian before looking back at him with a smile. " as soon as i get home, i'm going to make it up to you. whatever you want, wherever you want to go, you and i will go. and we'll even bring bella. it'll be a nice family trip. "

[danger-noodle-uwu]

I'm new to tumblr so is this how you do request? May I request the brothers forgetting mc's birthday and later remembering it. How would they react? Maybe they were busy or something. Your choice if you wanna do the dateables too.

Trigger warning

Mentions of Angst/sad/slight comfort

Lucifer

Busy almost all the time, the first-born barely spent time with our dear Mc. He would try to finish the work only for more to be slammed on his desk.

Never would his brothers acknowledge his efforts or the sacrifices he made for them. Instead they'd mock him. Mock him for being absent at all family times. Mock him for doing what he does.

It was once again such a time, such a day. They didn't bother to care what the day has held for his beloved. It was their birth.

The birth of the one who truly changed his life along with his brothers. It was such a blessing yet he forgot about it. Entirely.

The Avatar of pride was strong, Lucifer wasn't. He was weak. Vulnerable. Especially against his brothers whom he adored with his entire being.

And the mocking words had stabbed him deeply, which made his current state as to how it was. Drunk. Wounded. Crying.

Rubbing his eyes, he awoke to a mess of his office which screamed the need for cleanliness.

During the process, he found the calender. A sweet calender gifted him by his doll.

A smile had crept on his face as he lifted it for what? Perhaps to calm the unsettling feeling in his bones that told him to run but where he didn't know?

While their lover was, Mc wilted much like a delicate flower would if the sun stopped shinning, they were laying curled on the floor of his room. Mc needed him.

How could he forget his own lover's birthday?! even after he promised... it hurts.. so much...

Yesterday. The poor human cut the cake wished themselves a happy birthday when he didn't...crying...in pain...

The realization hit hard. He ran to Mc's room as fast as he could. A shiver ran his spine and the horror in his stomach grew as each and every step was taken.

Yet could not find them, so he went over to his office expecting a fuming Mc.

He was once again not right, for his beloved was breaking down as he took them into his arms. Consoling.

He apologised and comforted them. Reassuring them over and over again. Reminding them his heart still is with them and no-could ever take it away.

He later threw a party, just like how you wanted. You. Him. And the growing fragrance of the candles surrounding you both.

Though late as it may have been, it was the best birthday the innocent human had. Smiling while he kissed your knuckles, he asked for your hand in marriage.

Never had you expected this...

"I Found the reason for my smile, the day I found you. Will you let me be the reason for your smile and marry me, my love?"

Mammon

As most had expected, he forgot your birthday due to witches or the modeling gig, he did not.

Instead he forgot about preparing your birthday gifts. His excitement had always gotten the best of him.

The Avatar of greed did not have enough budget to prepare the gift you dearly wished for, therefore multiple part-time jobs and skipping RAD became more often.

Despite the scolding, he didn't bother and worked on, just imagining the smile you'd make once you saw what he got you.

''I'll make Mc smile. Just one more hour extra and the budget would be*chef's kiss* '' he thought as his co-workers packed their belongings up.

It was late night and the moons shined brightly over the streets of devildom however he wasn't much worried because it was not like your birthday the next day. (it was)

Stretching his arms, he woke up around 1:35 pm due to his fucked up sleep schedule, only to be greeted by your excited figure cuddling him.

Grey-haired demon thought it was the Delirium before the day itself. He was wrong.

At first he acted totally oblivious to the fact any special day was just around the corner. He knew that surprises even more better!!

And then your great mammon ignored you for a while to rid of the risk of you following him to the destination.

Though his plan was to get your hopes down, he ended up making you cry. It hurts a lot especially when the love of your life forgets your birthday afterall you gave him everything he wanted on his.

The visit was successful. He even had extras left to treat you!!!

The was big achievement for someone who hated working to the slightest, to work for 3 weeks and multiple jobs!!!

But before he left, the seller mocked him about being a damned day late for this gift could have been sold at a better price if not booked.

That is when it all clicked and he panicked. Today was your birthday! Oh shit!!

He rushed home back to you. As he ran, he planned how to ask for your forgiveness.

" Oi Mc I'm sorry!--Oh hell no!!" "Mc I fucked I am sorry, please forgive afterall I'm your first man.--fuck this shit imma just play smooth."

Panting, he paused right before the door of your room and knocked lightly. Seeking your permission to enter.

You lazily opened the door for him, tired after shedding many tears for him.

Mammon instantly knew what to do. "Oi Mc I'm sorry for not wishing ya' a happy birthday earlier but I was busy buyin you somethin', here darlin' close your eyes."

Hearing his apology, you felt oddly happy and followed his request. Soon you felt a soft cold metal cling to your wrist. A bracelet, huh.?

"Open y'er eyes, human." On your wrist was bracelet that said 'His human' and another matching one was on his wrist which said 'Their stupid' . (Now isn't that adorable?)

"I was savin' up for this, so ya' better appreciate it. Hmph!" Giggling you yelled 'I love you' at him making him blush immediately.

However, when he spoke, he spoke genuinely and not in tsundere.

"Ya' make my life worth living. You bring smiles to my face, and y'er touch shows me how much you love me and care for me. Y'er my friend and my lover. Happy Birthday!"

Leviathan

With envy filled to the brim, Leviathan was very focused upon you and having your attention only for himself. To not let anyone snatch you away for they could better be than him, he'd make notes to treat you like royalty and improve his guilt-tripping habits.

Guilt, regret, shame. His heart screamed within the confines of his chest, as he rubbed your back assuring you that he still loved and will continue to do so.

It was his envy. It had always been his envy. Who always held him captive like a bird in a cage, he struggled to break free. He just couldn't.

The fault was his for if he hadn't given in to the jealousy named poison, you would be happily celebrating your birthday rather than crying in his embrace.

The fault was his for if he hadn't screamed at your friends who just came to congratulate you about getting in a relationship with the demon you very much loved and to wish you a birthday.

They left because of him. Not because he humiliated them but he forgot his own lover's birthday and called them a pathetic cheater, as they didn't feel like reminding of what the day was. They had left off with their friends, returning at HOL at night only to get yelled at.

Caring friends as they were, they tried convincing Mc to leave which his love refused. So, they left pitying the poor human.

No-matter how much Mc begged her companions to stay, they didn't.

Oh the suffering for His Normie, they ran upto him vulnerable-ly and started hitting him weakly, breaking down. Why was he? Why was he like this?! Why must he always leave you crying due to his envy?!

"Hey easy...calm down please, I'm sorry. I really am sorry, please forgive me and I promise I will make everything right. Please." "How..?" "Please trust me. My love." "Are you sure..?" "Yes...yes...I love you..."

Could you really trust his statement? You wondered. He could forget his word much like how he forgot your birthday.

The great admiral of hell's navy was true to his word, and successfully united you again with those who almost abandoned you or it seemed like--but no they were just disappointed. They were never going to do such a thing.

The meet went smoothly, and soon the the sun was setting casting shadows along with dying light, it was a dreamy sight for anyone.

Leviathan had known that he still had to make upto you properly and therefore, he took you to the cosmos of frodane.

Red, blue, yellow, any colour you could possibly think of was there, shining as brightly you were.

Taking in a shaky breath, the Avatar of envy gave you a bouquet, each flower consisting different scent which complimented the other.

The shimmer in your eyes gave you away and he gave you a sweetly addicting kiss while mumuring...

"I always cause some mess. It is never your fault. I’m sorry for making you feel unhappy. I cannot believe that I cause hurt to you. You are my only hope for my life. I promise you that I will do my best to make a better version of myself for you, my 3rd waifu~"

-------------------------------------------------------

And here we go... the pain and the suffering. Lol

Hope you like it and stay safe everyone. ♡♡♡

Have a good day!

[choiwrites]

kth | the day after valentine’s (m.)

Words: 4.5k Synopsis: Taehyung, your best friend, had asked you to come over to help him arrange his furniture after moving for the hundredth time. It’s the day after Valentine’s and all the getting laid stuff is over, right? Not for Taehyung. Also, who the hell buys condoms after Valentine’s day? Rating: 18+ Author’s Note: This is a messy drabble that I have no intention cleaning or editing. I wrote this at liek 2am so a lot of typo’s ahead y’all.

When you agreed to come over Taehyung's apartment, you thought he needed help with arranging the stuff that came from his moving van today. But no, your best friend's not the most truthful person you know.

He spreads across his dirty old couch, one he'd kept from his college dorm, wearing nothing but his basketball shorts that holds tight against his waist. Seven years since meeting him, he's done nothing to change his lifestyle. Every month, it's the same old scenario of him moving to another place after getting evicted for God knows how many times, and you watching him play a mobile game while you beg him to please start unpacking before a landlord sends him on his ass again.

"Let me finish this level, I'm so close." He looks for a second to study your reaction, annoyance painted clearly on your face.

You shrug, and your eyes dart over the cigarette pack that almost hides in one of his Goodwill boxes.

"I though you quit?"

Confused, Taehyung follows your eyes and he regrets in an instant bringing you here.

"I haven't had one in two months. I'm stressed lately."

Sighing, you try to understand. Taehyung's been on and off with cigars, he'd buy one in secret but sooner or later, you'd always find a lighter in his laundry when coming over. You advice him to keep his hand busy, and you'd even given him a bracelet that chimes. He removed it three months later and you never asked where he threw it away.

"Fuck," his finger swipes his screen as if he wanted to break it, "I almost got it!" he yelled.

He switches off his phone, now staring back at you. Your eyes fall, he's always intimidating. You couldn't blame him, you were always intimidated.

"What?" you croaked.

"What do you mean what? What's your plan?"

"My plan? Why do I have to make the plans?" Your fingers find the hem of your thin baby blue shirt.

"Because you're the smarter one. How do I arrange all my shit? You got any idea?"

"Taehyung, we've been doing this for ages. How come you still depend on me? There will come a day that I won't be here anymore and the only person you could depend on is yourself." Was it seeing the cigarettes that raised your voice, or remembering that he threw your handmade bracelet? You couldn't care less.

He was quiet. Then he opens his mouth, and he's quiet again.

"You sound like my mom," he says, meaning to tease you as if he hadn't used that for the hundredth time. "Was your date last night that bad? I told you you should come with Hoseok and I on Valentine's, we had an amazing night at Jungkook's crib."

There he goes again, ignorant of your troubles. Classic selfish Tae, the exact same one who stood you up on homecoming because he spent it having sex with Tilly Janes in his car. You're still upset about it, he didn't even think of going inside to give you at least a minute to dance with somebody on the dance floor.

"Mind telling me what happened? Did you get laid?"

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

"Fine," almost tired in his tone.

And you spend a few more minutes in silence, guessing each other's thoughts with the way both your gaze lands on the floor. He clears his throat and forgets what he's about to say. You wish you didn't cancel your nail appointment today just to be with your best friend who still, in no surprise, doesn't have a single plan in his life.

Taehyung suggests he buys a stock from the grocery first, and when he says stock he means an awful lot of Oreo cookies and Lays. You agreed with him and he gets dressed, though the soles of your feet still hurt from walking in heels for three hours straight last night. If only you knew that Hyungwon would be bringing you to a walking spree, you wouldn't have worn a formal attire.

Taehyung spends his time choosing between peanut butter and double stuff. You tell him to pick the peanut butter one because you've never seen him finish the double stuff, he always throws the leftovers saying it was too sweet. He ignores your opinion and chooses the double stuff over the peanut butter.

He asks you again whether he should buy milk or pineapple juice instead, and you tell him to pick milk because whoever drinks pineapple is a monster. He nods in affirmation, commenting about how pineapple has a really weird aftertaste. And he brings the milk back to the shelf, putting the pineapple juice in the cart.

"You should dress like that." He points at a mannequin dressed in sportswear.

"You don't tell me what to wear, young man. I don't even jog."

"I'm just saying you'd look hotter." He scans you head to toe and your knees weaken a little.

He takes a route to the meat section, you already know why. He just wants to brag about being a vegan. Jungkook had convinced him last month to finally turn vegan, and he's been talking about it non-stop.

"I can't stand the smell of meat anymore, it's disgusting." He pinches his nose, wrinkles forming on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Vegan. We get it." You rolled your eyes.

"No, really. It's making me vomit," he says, nasally.

"Just make sure that once I cook chicken alfredo, your mouth wouldn't water."

Upon reaching the counter, Taehyung approaches the magazines and candy bars, leaving you in line.

What does he need this time?

And when you're up next in line, he comes back with a tight fist, hiding an item as he crosses his arms.

He thought he was sleek, but when he throws the condoms next to the Oreos, you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're buying condoms after Valentine's Day?" You throw your hand to your mouth, suppressing an uncontrollable laughter. "Did you run out last night or you're only getting laid today?" you added.

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

You sighed. "But seriously, I know you wanna answer that question."

In the mood, you poke at his waist and he flinches like a worm. Taehyung was cocky, but he can be cute sometimes in ways he doesn't intend to.

"I ran out last night. Lucky you who don't need to buy another one since none of your dates ever pass your standards."

You couldn't point it out in what he said that made your heart throb, it felt a little offensive. Taehyung knows so much about you, it can get scary when he opens his mouth. What's he thinking right now? Cute little y/n, no one's ever good enough for her fragile heart. Cute little y/n, always finds a mistake in every part.

"That's not true, you know? I just don't settle that easily."

The corners of his lips lift, eyes rolling in disbelief. He was skinning you alive with that gaze, annoyed. He has a sarcastic smile sprawled all over his face, you just wanna punch it away.

On the way home, you thought about what he said for a second... For a while. You thought about it for a while. Was Taehyung right? Was his perception of you correct? Whatever it was, it did hurt. All you ever did for Taehyung was to be a good friend, and he gave nothing in return. You weren't expecting anything, but deep inside you knew Taehyung loves you just as much as you love him. But like every other person, insecurity gets in the way in relationships.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't even treat you as a friend.

No, you argued inside your head.

Sure, you've seen him in his most vulnerable moments. You've seen him break and you've seen him fall, you've seen him lose the inner parts of his soul. You've seen Taehyung happy, and you will always remember that specific laugh he lets out whenever he pretends something is funny. You know that he blinks when he curses because his body rejects it. He told you about his broken dream of becoming an astrologist, and you daydreamed together about the stars and the way they collide like magical dusts.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't know you like you know him.

Before the thought gets answered, Taehyung was already groaning as he puts the bags down to his counter. You had forgotten you arrived.

"We should start with your room. I'll place your clothes in your closet and you go arrange your miscellaneous."

He doesn't nod. Why won't he nod?  God, please, Taehyung, just agree with me once.

He remains standing with both his hands on either sides of his waist and he does nothing else. Still standing feet away from you, just knitted brows and a stern expression that you couldn't read. What is it this time?

"How was it?" His arms cross on the buff his chest, waiting for a response as he tries to read your reaction the same way you're reading where he's coming from.

"How was what?"

"The sex, y/n. Was it so bad you're in a bad mood today?" A laugh pauses in his throat, replaced by a rise of the corner of his lips.

It was a tug, or maybe a push, in your stomach that made your minds do wonders of spins. Such an unpredictable person Taehyung is.

There was nothing to deliberate inside your mind, nothing happened last night. Hyungwon went home without a kiss on his lips, and you're limbs gave out due to the amount of walking.

"There's no sex. We didn't have sex."

"Let me guess, he insulted your outfit? If not, he probably split the check." His index finger extends, eyes wrinkling to get out any more ideas from his dirty little head.

"Can you just- Ugh! What's with you and your insults?"

"How was that an insult? I was guessing which of what he did didn't pass your golden standard."

"If I had a better standard, maybe you wouldn't be my friend." Ouch. It wasn't directed to you but sometimes you just want to dissolve after saying something.

"I'm your friend because you have a high standard." He wasn't offended, not a single bit from what you have said. Was Taehyung that oblivious of how miserable he is? "If we weren't friends, I'm pretty sure I could get inside your pants."

You hoped he regret what he said, just as much as you wanted to dissipate earlier.

"I'm sorry, Taehyung. But my 'golden standard' would never, and I can't stress this enough, let you get in my pants, in an alternate universe where we aren't friends."

"Lies. Lies. Lies. I could easily get you swooning for me in just a matter of seconds, y/n. Stop, and I can't stress this enough, lying."

"Sure, Taehyung. Whatever you want me to fucking say." You turned your back on him to get a grip of yourself. You grunt, you shudder, and you sighed.

Cocky. Bastard. You could join those words together and it would still perfectly describe Taehyung. Perhaps you have a list of two words that could go either independently or together they'd still describe Taehyung well.

Arrogant. Pervert. Overconfident. Asshole. Striking. Idiot. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I. Just. Want. To. Punch. Him.

He places a grip on your arm to spin you to him. "I want you to say it," with a guttural voice coming from the pits of somewhere within his diaphragm, it's crazy how smooth it escaped from his lips.

"Saywhat?" as opposed to yours that escaped with so much tremble and crisp, thinner than air.

"Consent," he began. "I'm pretty sure I can reach your standard."

It was probably a bad idea. And a bad idea is followed by a spontaneous drive to try it, that's how it's done in movies. You'd probably regret it, right? But you'd regret it more if you don't get a chance to prove Taehyung wrong.

Fine. He needs a wake up call. He needs to wake up from that delusion he'd built inside his towering cocky arrogant head, no pun intended, that he's not every girl's cup of tea.

"You know what? Sure. What do you want me to do? Ride you? Then give you a blowjob after not finding the clit-"

He pulls you, hand reaching your lower back to push his groin toward your front. You were far behind than he was, Taehyung was already hard and eager. His lips were hot, warm around the tip of your tongue that vividly tastes the mint and smoke he had had earlier this morning. It was evident in the sloppiness of his kiss, swiftness of his wandering hands, and blazing fire underneath the lust of his eyes, Taehyung isn't exactly as what you have thought him to be.

The men you've slept with before, they were a floating fish in the sea. But Taehyung brings you sea deep into the weakness of your knees, the floor may have shaken 'cause you find yourself falling on his body and he catches you just perfectly, bodies molding with each other on the floor. Taehyung grips your thigh, to the north his hand traveled, his thumb harshly caressing your slit.

The position made it hard for him to move, he was struggling to reach every part of your body as he would have wanted so he pushed your body, and you look him in the eyes with question, both hands resting on his chest as he continues to play with your clit. He earns a sly grunt from you and he'd do anything to hear it again.

Then he was standing, carrying your body to the nearest stool he could find, desperate and quick. With one sharp thrust to lock you in position, he inhales the moan that went from your lips to his throat. Then he stops. He stopped.

"Moaning already, are we?" He lifts his brow, a crease forming on his forehead.

"Can you just get to it?"

He laughs. "That's not exactly how I always do it. I like to take my time."

You punch his shoulder, a questioning look taking over his features. Embarrassment flows through you. "This was a mistake."

He kisses you again, eating whatever insult was about to come out of your mouth. He wants to whisper it, that thing he have always wanted to tell you, in between kisses. Because now that he's got you under his touch, his tongue is burning just to say it. To distract himself, he digs into your waist deeper, sinking those three little words under your skin hoping you'd realize it.

You pull away, pushing him away from you. "Something wrong?" His nails have left their mark before you could figure out.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong."

There is though. You're not a stranger to not know the look on Taehyung's face. You recognize this one, it happened before. The trembling lips and crimson cheeks. They bring you back the day after prom, the day after Tilly Janes took his innocence.

"What happened last night?" you asked him, arms crossed against your chest.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come-"

"You came Tae. You came hard, didn't you? I can't believe you convinced me to go to prom just so you can leave me in there alone."

"I didn't want to. Listen, okay, I realized something last night."

"I don't need your apology, Taehyung. I don't need it. Jimin took me home last night."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because some asshole left me without a ride. That's why!"

"I was looking for you last-"

"Shut it. He asked me on a date. So thank God, I'm at least in a good mood today to not flame on you."

"He asked you on a date? Are you going?"

Trembling lips and crimson cheeks. He gulped so hard you heard it.

"I am. Hey, are you okay?"

"I just can't believe someone would even ask you out. I'll be going, forget I came."

It's the same face, the same gulp. You put your hand on his cheek, like what a mom would do to an injured child, and he holds it so you won't ever let go of his face.

"We can stop. I know. This was a bad idea. We shouldn't have done it."

He shakes his head, his other hand creeping behind you. He latches his lips onto yours again, pulling your shirt up to reveal your stomach. The kiss was different, a touch of hunger for affection. A slow open one, mostly the breaths clashing in a soft whisper.

"I want you, y/n. I want you," he whispered to your mouth. You push him to the couch, straddling him and he groans in satisfaction. He pulls you closer, enough for his chin to land on your chest and he looks up in pure admiration of you.

There was more behind the words he said, but with the heat pooling in between your thighs, you couldn't care less as of now. It's something you'll resolve after. He tucks a strand of your hair as he makes thrusts underneath you, the thick cotton of his sweats didn't do anything to conceal his cock aching for you.

You remove his shirt, not being able to take your eyes away from his body. Sweet and honey under your gaze, he tenses them and you couldn't help but laugh at this. Kissing every inch of his exposed skin, you kneel as your knees approach the floor, not breaking eye contact with Taehyung while untying his sweats. His hand fails to fall steady on your arm and his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.

There's warmth that spreads across your stomach, different from the one in between you thighs. It's like electricity that continuously ignites a fire inside you when you notice his excitement, eager to have your mouth around him. A sign of reciprocation that he wants this just as much as you do no matter how hard you try to deny it, a catching fire of the thought that maybe he looks at you the way you look at him throughout all these years. Even now that you're not looking in his eyes, the continuous ignition of sparks inside you still teases.

You reach for his length, softly wrapping it in your hand and his breath quickens along with your heartbeat. Studying every detail, even the cold tones of the veins that spreads like tree roots. In usual occasions, giving head never takes your time. You suck it and finish it, no more and no less, nothing special really. But it's Taehyung, and his difference from others makes you uncomfortable in a way it shouldn't be possible. Trying to forget these unnecessary emotions, your thumb circles the head of his cock and he couldn't help but make his lip bleed, the agony of it keeping him awake to not fall into your dreamy touch.

His shorts reaches the floor and you made it quick to to kiss the base of his glistening length. Your index finger making lines on his thigh while the other keeps his cock steady as your lips move upward. You've never imagined how he would taste, but you were always sure he tastes exactly like he tastes now. Bittersweet. He throbs at the heat of your breath, thighs almost jumping when your fingers find his balls. He emits a groan that strengthens the force you're putting in your thighs to keep your core intact.

Down you go, the head of his cock deepening in your throat just like his grunts, getting lower and lower until he thrusts upwards making you gag and he releases a high-pitched whimper of your name. Tears blur your vision and a moan sends minimal vibration to his cock.

"I don't think... y/n, fuck, I'm not gonna last long," he confessed, and you finally look up to see him without removing him from your mouth.

You tongue swirling still and he has gone rabid trying to control himself, clenching your hair as he lets himself go maniac against your throat. He stares at you with mad eyes, his mouth failing in keeping him quiet. Only his groans, his throat-fucking, and your whimpers that you can no longer suppress. You're a little scared maybe he'll get too confident and tease you on your gagging, calling himself so big he made you cry.

He pulls your hair and he tries to get a hold of himself, catching his breath to gain stability. Before you can wipe the corners of your lips, he was standing up and taking your shirt off. He frames his chin with his index finger and his thumb, making you grow conscious of your own body. He had no reason to be looking so long, he'd seen you in a two piece more than one occasion. And he's going behind you, putting a finger at the waist of your shorts, bringing it down slowly until it lands by itself. He wraps your hair in a pony as the other grips your ass, a throaty growl escaping from his body.

He rotates you to the other side, an empty blank wall where you can see the fool you made of yourself. The argument ends here. The argument has ended since he had kissed you like no one had kissed you. You shouldn't have underestimated Taehyung, because he's now biting your shoulder as he slowly descends you to the wall. He hums, this close he can hear the tiny whimpers you try to keep to yourself, your fragile voice that can break once you open your mouth to say something. He can hear them all and he's aware of the power he has over you.

A hand holds both of yours behind your back, and once he has successfully taken your white underwear off, he's positioning the fat head of his cock right in your entrance.

"Make it easier for the both of us and just say it, y/n," he commands, his breath echoing in your ear sending voltage in your spine. He bites your ear and he whispers again, "Baby, please."

"What?"

Taehyung laughs at your adorable cluelessness. He doesn't answer. The next thing you hear was the expansion of his breaths, getting heavier and heavier it's almost a hum as he slides himself inside you.

"Taehyung," you say in a falsetto, "god, Tae, fuck!"

"Hmm, fucking tight. You're so fucking tight, y/n. Your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well," his knees bend to enter you deeply, this sharp thrust hitting a spot in you you never knew you'd feel, "maybe now you'd let me fuck you often, huh? You're gonna take my cock anytime you want, I'll fuck your brains out, ruin you and your cunt."

You respond with a soft murmur of you're not entirely sure what, because Taehyung was already fucking your brains out and you had no other thoughts but the feeling of his cock that slips in out of you so easily. He'd hit that one spot and you're going to release yet another cry and he'd enjoy every note of it. You're a mess with strands of your hair sticking to your face as the sweat trickle down your temples.

"Tell me what you want, y/n. Want it fast, baby?" He speeds up his thrusts, your ah's getting louder as he almost sends you to your high. "Or you want to cherish every inch of my cock?" He slows down which brings you wailing, whimpering his name over and over until you're no longer sure if it's even coming out right. His free hand lands on your ass and you gasp as if inhaling after suffocation. "Answer me," he speeds up his pace again, "answer me, y/n."

But you couldn't, there's nothing in your body that you trust right now especially your voice. He growls, unsatisfied with your silence which leads him to pulling your hair and pushing your back to the wall. You're almost embarrassed to see his eyes once more in the state you're in, overpowered by the despair of wanting nothing but to have Taehyung take you to your climax. Your eyes are begging for him, hell there were tears coming from them as he enters you again.

He cries out, "I want to fuck you all day long, would you let me do that?" He continues to carry you upward the wall and your weight would go down whenever he pulls himself from you. You nod and as he sees this, his head moves back to watch your body crumble before him, giving him no more than satisfaction. "Look at you desperate for my cock, such a fucking whore for me, aren't ya?"

In every "hm" he makes, he enters you harder and rougher, makes you want to stay silent. You bite your lip, feeling yourself come to a close. Your thighs pulling together like magnets, wrapping his waist while it shakes and he doesn't take one second to land your body on the couch, watching your orgasm hit you with spasms traveling your whole body. Taehyung wraps his cock in his hand, moving toward your mouth as he jerks himself off to his own orgasm. You take the spurts of his fluid landing on your tongue, his waist twitching while he groans for each drop of cum.

He sighs, falling onto the couch where your legs are still apart. He smiles at your nakedness, not giving a second thought as his middle finger enters you once more. Your body  sits straight, only to land on the sofa's arm. "You're so fucking pretty," he commented, his body hovering over yours again. He kisses you.

"I can't handle," you say before Taehyung cuts you off with another kiss, and another, and another, his finger in and out of you which as the minute grows only turns from pain into pleasure again.

"You're going to," he whispers and he kisses you again, until you're crying his name and he just studies the way you react to his slender finger. "So pretty, so, so," he curves his finger resulting to your second orgasm, "pretty." He makes sure you see his savoring your juices in his mouth, and once he was done lapping up his finger he puts them inside your lips, tasting nothing but his saliva.

"Do you get it now, y/n?" He unclasps your bra, and from then on he ignores your eyes. "This is why I run out of condoms."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Block Party Barbecue

Fandom: Marvel (Single Parent AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: Chubby!Bucky and reader are dating and during a barbecue a woman gets flirty with him. Reader doesn't get jealous right away because she thrusts him. Unfortunately he doesn't know how to handle the attention the right way and reader does get jealous over him seemingly flirting back. He doesn't mean to but he's overwhelmed. Maybe with some happy ending? ❤️

The sun was beaming down on you and Becca and the rest of the children surrounding you at the arts and crafts table that was set up for the block party. Becca, at seven years old, was trying to make a bracelet with her name on it. Her brows were furrowed, blue eyes, like her dad’s, filled with determination as she strings beads one by one. 

You chuckle and kiss her head and look over your shoulder to see Bucky chatting with your neighbors: Sam and Nat. A white t-shirt still clings to his round belly due to the water games groups of you played earlier. He takes a sip from his beer and, as if he felt your eyes on him, he looked your way and gave you a wink. 

“I finished!” Becca announces and you turn back to her to see her name spelled out in beads with mismatched beads surrounding it. 

“Great job, Becs! Looks super cute! Would you like me to tie it for you?”

“Yes, please!” she nods and holds out her wrist. You tie the bracelet around her and you bump fists. 

You both get up from the bench and stretch a little bit, “You hungry?”

“A little. Can I get popcorn?” 

“Sure, let’s go see if your dad wants some.” Becca mindlessly grabs your hand and you both walk over to Bucky who’s now chatting with a rather attractive mother. You don’t immediately get jealous. You trust Bucky and you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

When you near, you see the woman squeeze Bucky’s bicep. You know exactly what she’s doing and you’re hoping Bucky catches it. But he doesn’t. Instead, he chuckles and smirks, flexing his arm and allowing her to squeeze his arm again. She squeals in awe about “how strong” he is. 

You narrow your eyes at the two and then gently yank Becca back to prevent her from getting closer to her father, “Actually, he looks busy. We’ll just get some for us, okay?”

Becca replied with a bright, “Okay!” and followed your lead towards the food area. 

The sun was going down and Bucky felt like he hasn’t seen you for hours. He’s seen Becca since she’s ran up to him a few times to ask a question or to show him her latest project. But you? Nothing. 

The lower the sun gets, the more people head back into their houses, which makes it easier for him to see you. He finds you, tossing leftover water balloons to each other and backing up with each toss. 

Becca tosses a balloon towards you and you miss it, which causes it to burst at your feet. You scream as the water hits you and Becca’s laughter echoes through the neighborhood. 

Bucky smiles as he approaches the two of you, “You guys not tired?”

Becca shakes her head, “Nope!”

“Well, everyone’s leaving, sweet pea. Plus, you should get inside before you get sick. You’re drenched in water.”

His daughter’s shoulders sag in disappointment, “Okay.”

Bucky then looks at you and sees you’re staring at your feet, “Doll? You coming with?”

You shake your head, eyes avoiding his, “No, I-uh-I think I’m gonna head home now.” Bucky knows something’s wrong, but he’s not sure what or why. He figured you had a good time with Becca. Then why did you look so sad?

Becca runs up to you and tugs at your arm, “Can you at least walk home with us?”

Never able to say no to her, you nod, “Of course.”

The three of you walk all the way down the street to the court where the Barnes residence sits. When you get to the front door, Becca hugs you, “Bye Y/N! I’m glad you came today. I had fun!”

You softly giggle and hug the girl back, “Of course, Becs.” she pulls away, giving you a last wave before heading inside to take a bath. 

Without looking at Bucky, you turn around and murmur, “Bye,” but he catches your arm.

“Sweetheart, hey. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you mumbled with insistence.

Bucky shook his head, “You and I both know that’s a lie. I-I haven’t seen you all day, doll.”

“Maybe if you paid less attention to the women fawning over you, then you could’ve spent more time with Becca and I!” you spit at him and Bucky reels back.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Earlier. Becca and I were coming up to you from behind and you were talking to some woman-some beautiful woman-and she was clearly flirting with you. At first, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about. But then you started flirting with her and making her laugh-I just....it made me feel like shit, Bucky.”

“Fuck, baby, I’m-I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to-I didn’t know-well, no. That’s a lie. I knew what I was doing.”

You whipped your head at him with wide eyes, “W-what?”

But Bucky’s hands are on your shoulders and he’s shaking your head, “No no no! I didn’t mean it like-fuck!” he runs a hand over his shaved head, “She wasn’t budging. I tried giving her so many outlets to get her to leave, but none of them worked. I was freaking out on how else to get her to leave, so I just ran with it? I mean, flirting back with her did push her away for a little bit, but then she kept coming back and-anyway, I eventually told her she misread everything and that I’m happily dating you.” he sighs and cups your face, “I’m an idiot.”

You sniffle, “Yeah. You are.”

“Babydoll, I never meant to hurt you. I just-I was taken by surprise and overwhelmed. Not many people find me appealing so when Caroline came on strong I didn’t know what to do. But nonetheless, it’s no excuse. I’m sorry my actions made you feel like shit.”

You sigh, leaning forward and resting your head on Bucky’s chest, “I sometimes feel like I’m not good enough for you. I feel like I’m not pretty enough, that I don’t do enough to show you that I love you, that I-”

“No, baby. No.” he arms wrap around you as you softly cry, “You do more than enough, for me and Becca. You’re enough, sweetheart. I promise. I was just being stupid. I’ll do better. Promise.”

“I’m sorry for getting jealous.”

“I’ll accept your apology as long as you accept mine for being dumb.”

“Deal,” you murmur and hug Bucky back. 

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You turn around to face Becca and wipe your eyes, “Yeah, Becs. Sorry. I’m just really drained and crying helps tire me out more.”

“It’s okay to cry sometimes,” she says and looks up at you with a heartwarming smile. 

Bucky comes up and wraps his arm around your waist, “You sure you wanna go home? After we call wash up, we can cuddle and watch a movie?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” 

He kisses your head and the three of you head inside the house. Everything was gonna be okay.

[mimiwrites2000]

What Does White Mean?

Chapter ONE / two

(completed)

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

(side pairings: Pieck Finger x Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun x Hitch Dreyse, Mikasa Ackreman x someone new)

Words count: 3416

* spoilers for chapter 131 and up

Summary:

The ocean lulled them to sleep, and the sun woke them up with mild kisses. Tangled with each other, in their cabin by the beach. After the war ended, they moved together, ever since, they faced obstacles, issues, and misunderstandings. One of them was Armin’s seashells. Stubbornness got in the way, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

He already filled two boxes to the rim. Pieces falling out from them, the wooden edges of the boxes barely holding them in. 

Sea shells in necklaces, bracelets, rings. But nothing was good enough, nothing was perfect.

He didn't know what the perfect one looked like, but he knew that none of them was it.

In his small workshop, that was, in fact, just a tiny storage room before he started this hobby, Armin worked his way through another piece of jewelry.

A seashell with streaks of pink, light as Annie's lips. Dots of sparkling white adorning it, just like the sparks in her eyes.

He put the final touches on the necklace, twisting the clasp in its place, giving it two tugs to insure its firmness, then opened the cabinet in his desk, and pulled out a third box.

Imperfect piece number one went in the third box.

Great.

The storage room— the workshop had a small, triangle, frosted glass window, but Armin didn't like it, it made the small place even smaller. After he moved in with Annie, he changed it immediately, to a clear transparent glass. 

Their ocean-view cabin met Armin’s dreams to the smallest detail; one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchenette were enough to satisfy them and convincing enough to buy it without second thoughts.

He spent most of his mornings either strolling by the beach or in Annie's arms, and his nights by a bonfire or under the sheets with her.

They had their breakfasts on the porch, with the salty wafts drifting with the ocean breeze, the crooning of seagulls their only companion.

Everything seemed perfect.

Except for the nights when he woke up in cold sweat, screams rupturing his lungs, Annie’s hands trying to calm him down, embracing him and running through his hair. Or mornings while Annie took longer in the shower, while he sat outside, listening to her silent sobs.

But they were ok. Armin always hugged Annie when she stepped out of the shower, and whispered that they're ok, they're alive, healthy, together.

They're ok.

But this jewelry crafting thing came out of nowhere. And Armin wished he learnt about it long before.

It was Annie who suggested it, when she saw his seashells collection accumulating to the ceiling, she said he might as well make good use of it. She didn’t specify jewelry crafts, but he found that these delicate shells needed a delicate use.

And there he was, in his former storage room, picking through seashells, twisting wires and knitting in beads.

He had been trying to make her the perfect piece. He still didn’t find the perfect one.

He eyed the two boxes — the newly third one joining them. He never thought about selling them, or giving them to anyone else, or throwing them away…

He wondered why.

Maybe because he clutched onto one seashell for more than four years, and the habit was born with the many nights he spent eyeing it, whether it was in his room at night, or in front of a crystal in an icy cold basement.

Knock knock!

“Don’t come in!” Armin’s words overlapped, he was so immersed in his daydream that the knocks on the door made him jump in his seat.

“I won’t, I promise,” from the other side of the door, Annie grumbled. Armin felt bad, he never let her in his workshop, mainly because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise that he still didn’t figure out, and secondly… well, he wasn’t ready for any judgment on his poor jewelry crafting skills.

“Armin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“It’s getting late, I was wondering if you can… you know, get dinner ready? I don’t feel like burning the kitchen.”

“Oh right,” he got up and opened the door, only to be met with an arms-crossed Annie, a passive look on her face. He didn’t know if she was upset because she was hungry, or because he was, once again, keeping her away from his workshop. “We don’t want a burnt kitchen now do we?” he asked, half jokingly

Annie tried cooking once, on his birthday. She tried baking a simple cake. They ended up with a piece of a circular char, on top of it one single candle.

“I don’t think we have-” the rest of the sentence was swallowed down Armin’s throat when he saw groceries lining up the kitchen table.

“I went out an hour ago, I didn’t want to disturb you, but don’t worry, I checked everything on the list, twice.”

“Ah, yes, thanks.”

Guilt swelt in his guts.

She didn’t want to disturb him…

She was upset with him.

He rolled up his sweater’s sleeves, washing his hands, before he started opening the groceries bags, emptying them on the counter.

Annie on the side crossing her arms.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, trying to ignore her glaring eyes by inspecting a head of lettuce in his hand.

“Anything, it doesn’t matter.”

One 

Two 

Three-

“Maybe something fast so you can get back to your small workshop-”

“Okay Annie listen-”

“No you listen!”

The lettuce head froze in his hands.

“You’ve been doing this for weeks! Even- even I don’t know how many months!”

Armin slowly put down the lettuce on the counter, looking down at his feet.

“And you never let me in! Like, ever! I don’t understand why!” she continued, her arms flailing around, before resting on her hips, “every single day, every fucking day you lock yourself up in that room for hours! And I know you’re playing around with your shells but why are you hiding like this?! I’m not gonna pretend that something is not up,” she was pacing around the kitchen, Armin watching her from the corner of his eyes. “I know I’m the one who suggested it, but- but-” she sighed, “even when we go out on the beach, your eyes are always down, searching for even more shells! What is up with you?!”

“Annie-”

“I don’t understand what you’re hiding, I don’t understand why you’re hiding it,” suddenly she stopped, Armin looked at her, “we moved in together, Armin, we live under the same goddamn roof.”

“Annie-”

“What?Annie what? You’re sorry? Keep it to yourself! You’ve already apologized twice before but nothing ever changed,” she turned, and before he could stop her, she stormed into their bedroom.

And he was left alone in the kitchen.

The ocean waves swayed in a symphony, but when he looked outside, all he saw was a dark mass that swallowed him whole.

Armin huffed, he knew this was coming, he knew it so well.

Annie wasn’t wrong.

But she wasn’t right either.

He was doing it for her. He was locking himself up to make her the perfect jewelry.

Armin kicked the heel of his shoes against the cabinet. Thud thud thud. Putting a rhythm to his mind and his thoughts.

Maybe... she was right. She didn’t know what he was doing, she felt left out.

They only have each other.

No one should leave the other in the dark.

No matter what.

Armin pushed himself off the cabinets, and walked towards the room.

He stood at the threshold, watching Annie curled on her side of the bed under the duvet.

He pressed his lips together, but he didn’t dare make a sound, even though he knew she was aware of his presence. 

He sat on his side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

Annie didn’t move.

Armin sighed. He fucked up, and he must fix it. 

He kicked off his shoes, and slithered under the duvet.

His face confronted her back.

One

Two

Three-

She turned around-

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Armin bit his lips to stop himself from smiling, while gazing at Annie’s stoic face, with a slight dip between her eyebrows.

They talked, confessed, together at the same time, their words overlapping.

“I know your craft means so much to you-”

“I’ve been leaving you out of this-”

“I don’t mean that you should spend every single moment with me-”

“And I want to spend more time with you-”

Then the last sentence, they breathed it together, “I promise to be a better person.”

Their eyes on each other, blue meeting blue.

Magnetic force pulled them towards each other, capturing each other's lips, hands running over each other's bodies.

Their clothes were stripped and thrown on the floor, while the groceries in the kitchen were left untouched.

~~~

The most valuable times for Annie were these moments when she woke up beside him, heads on the same pillow, skin on skin, under the blankets.

The warmth like an aura around his body made her alive, incomparable to soft rays of early morning sun filtering through the window.

It was so early and everything was quiet, even the ocean fell in a quiet slumber.

Without moving, she checked the time.

There was still a couple of hours before Armin's usual wake up time.

She usually got up before him, went on an extra walk, or maybe a dip in the ocean.

But getting up from bed and leaving this beauty behind would be as bad as a crime.

So she stayed, watching his face. His breath warm on her face, his lips slightly parted, bangs ruffled on his forehead. Mildly, she caressed them, brushing them off his forehead. Before she cupped his cheek, and she held the world and the sun and the ocean— all together in her palm.

His eyelashes fanned upon his closed eyes like sun rays. She tilted her head up, and kissed his eyelid, soft, like a feather.

Armin was a light sleeper, the last thing she wanted was to ruin his sleep.

A cold breeze wafted through the window, Annie shivered. She noticed Armin hunching his back, he must be cold as well.

She inched closer, cautious, wrapping her arms around his frame, over his shoulder, nesting her head on his chest. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed her muscles, and in those moments, deep inside, something would stir in her, feelings she wasn’t aware she would experience one day.

Arms wrapped around her, and she tensed, did she wake him up?

She peeked up at him, he was already watching her, his eyes barely open.

He tried to speak, but no voice came out. After he cleared his throat, he tried again, “Good… morning.” his voice deep, hoarse.

She rubbed her feet against the mattress, “Did I wake you up?” she whispered.

He squinted his eyes, deep in thought, “If I said no?”

“Good.”

“And if I said yes?”

Annie runs her tongue on the inside of her teeth, “I can make it up for you.”

At that, Armin props himself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue.

With one finger pointing at his chest, she said, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

He snorted, the voice vibrated through Annie’s body, and she had to swallow.

“No,” was his simple, predictable answer.

“Your lose,” She said, swinging her legs off the bed, but before she could stand up, arms wrapped around her, rolling her in bed.

~~~

Breakfast time was long gone, so, after Armin went through the groceries from the night before, he made a light meal for both of them. While he cooked, Annie watched him, sitting on the counter, her legs swinging.

She enjoyed watching him cook, muscles of his arms flexing as he cut tomatoes, brushing his bangs away from his face, wiping his hands on the towel.

By that point she could blindly sculpt a statue of his body.

He also enjoyed catching her off guard, catching her eyes every now and then. When they first moved together, she would blush furiously and avert her eyes, but now, even though she still blushes, sometimes she would pay him back with a sudden kiss, or sometimes she would dare him with more than a kiss.

It was the privilege of a peaceful life, the result of going to hell and back, tolerating an agonizing pain for years.

A slow-paced life, where everything was in place, everything was right.

They reached the end of the labyrinthine, they might as well celebrate their victory.

Post afternoon, and after a meal with their legs tangled under the table, they strolled along the shore.

Annie never imagined that she would settle down in a cabin by the beach, every day the seagulls waking her up, and every night the ocean waves lulling her to sleep.

Hand by hand, shoes off, the sand tickling her feet, like walking on a pile of feathers.

The sun above them soft on their skin, a chilly afternoon, perfect for a walk.

Armin tried so hard to keep his gaze on the horizon, fighting the urge to peak down and hunt for shells.

He wouldn’t rest until he found the perfect shell for Annie’s piece.

However, he remembered his promise to Annie, wanted to spend more time with her, she wanted to spend more time with him.

An especially shiny shell caught his attention, tempting him to kneel down, and plunge his hands in the sand and go back to the cabin with a bag full of new shells. 

“I was thinking of going to town for a few days,” Annie said, catching Armin off guard, “my father wrote to me and said he’s holding a dinner, and we’re invited.” 

“Oh, yeah sure,” Armin answered. Her father lived only half an hour away, in the town, alongside a couple of their old friends as well.

They lived with him for a couple of weeks before, as they went hunting for their own place. He was an old nice man, but he certainly had a temper.

Armin was exceptionally nervous around her father for the first few months. For what reason, he still didn’t know, but something about that man made him rethink everything he wanted to say twice.

But after all, her father accepted their relationship, if not a bit too dramatically, for he cried and hugged Armin for the first time.

In the end, they had to move out, Annie was adamant they had their own house.

Armin smiled, “You can move out and live with your father.”

Annie raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I can move with you-” his voice got muffled; Annie’s palm on his mouth.

“No.”

“Whyyyy?” he asked, his voice choked up with a laugh, he wanted to try biting Annie’s hand on his mouth.

“If each of us would get a different room, then yeah sure,” she answered, lowering her hand, and continuing her walk.

“Not my fault you’re too loud-”

Annie started running.

The nearby village could hear Armin’s howling laugh. 

~~~

Annie waited at the cabin longer than Armin would need to catch up to her. She wondered what was taking him so long, though she had a clear idea what was holding him off.

She waited by the door, but then the sun got a little uncomfortable, so she went inside. She hated that the first thing she thought of was checking Armin’s workshop.

She immediately shook her idea, shoving it away. Intrusiveness wasn’t her trait.

But the door glowed in her sight. Walking to it, and turning the knob seemed like the most tempting thing ever.

No

“No,” she said it out loud, to convince herself to stop.

She would certainly be upset if she was in his shoes. She would never do that to him.

Nope.

Never.

One 

Two 

Three

She walked to the door. An old, small door, compared to a standard door, Armin had to bend to get through, but Annie bet she can walk through it, with her head brushing the door frame.

A tiny place for a workshop, she thought, she wondered how he keeps his tools there, the dozens of seashells bags going there, never going out again.

She was burning to know what was in there.

She was in front of the door, she could lift her hand, and turn the knob, and she could see it all for herself.

Finally,

She reached for the antique door knob.

Her palm rested on it.

Turn it turn it turn it turn it-

She twirled and walked away, right to their bedroom, without even a glance back.

A minute or two after, she heard the door of the cabin open and close. Annie got up, not thinking much of it, “Hey what took you so long-”

Armin stood there, with a handful of seashells in his hands.

Annie threw her head back…

One

Two 

Three

“Listen-”

“It hadn’t even been a day, not a single day had passed,” Annie said, frustration evident in her voice, which was as rare as the sky turning green.

“Annie, I can explain.”

Annie crossed her arms, waiting for him to explain.

Armin sighed, he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, he had to come up with something.

“I’m making something.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“No no no I mean I’m making something,” he said, his closed clutch on the seashells flailing around.

Annie sighed, “Try again.”

“I’m honest, I’m making something.”

“And?” she inquired.

A moment of silence passed, Armin trying so hard to come up with something, anything.

Annie knew that face very well, the face Armin makes when he’s trying to come up with a good fight in a debate, the face he does when he would lob a few words to hypnotize a whole crowd of people.

But not on her.

Never on her.

She knew him too well for his own good.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, returning to their room. She threw over her shoulder, “Tomorrow is the dinner at my father’s house,” before she vanished from sight.

Armin, left alone, stared down at the seashells in his hands.

~~~

Armin spent most of the night in his workshop, his hands working, but his mind somewhere else.

He didn’t talk to Annie since their confrontation, nor did any of them eat.

Embarrassment gnawed at him, he promised her, yet he broke the promise.

He must be a terrible partner.

Armin sighed.

He wondered why he was even trying to make Annie a piece of jewelry, to win her heart? 

Pfft

She was better off without him anyway.

She could leave him at any second and he wouldn’t even question it. She was smart, pretty, skillful, talented, gorgeous, sweet, and... nice.

And what was he? He couldn’t think of one good trait about himself. Not good enough to match hers.

And he fucked up.

He groaned, letting his head fall on the desk.

The pile of the new shells sat in his sight line, waiting to be cleaned of the sand, but he had no intention of doing so. He wanted to cage himself in his workshop forever, rather than facing Annie again after he broke his promise.

Armin swallowed, wondering how he would meet her father the next day.

Mr. Leonhart was protective, way too protective. Armin knew he wouldn’t hesitate to cut off Armin’s head if he hurt Annie.

Naaah.

He thought. Annie is much more mature than that.

He snorted at himself, he had some stupid thoughts sometime, but this one was the stupidest of them all.

Annie ranting to her father about her boyfriend.

Pffft

Armin straightened his back on the chair, thinking of what he should do.

Then, at that moment, a glimmer caught his eyes.

Armin shook his head, peeking outside the small, circular window.

He wasn’t sure if it came from outside or from the inside, but then it happened again, this time, he was sure it came from the inside of the workshop. Armin looked around, trying to find it.

The moon light filtering through the glass, gleaming upon the pile of seashells accumulated on his desk.

The glimmer happened again.

But that time, Armin caught it.

It came from one of the seashells. 

Armin scattered the pile on the desk, going over each shell, rotating it under the moonlight, trying to find that one seashell.

On his seventh try, he found it.

Something clicked, and Armin knew exactly what he had to do. Everything cleared in his mind, and he found it absurd that he only saw it now.

Locked in his small workshop, with his back bowed down. Armin finished his perfect piece when the first ray of sunshine broke the night.

.

.

.

uwu thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! next chapter (which is much much longer) will be posted in a couple of days or so can't wait for the other ships to make their cameos hahhaaa thank you for reading! like always, feedback, kudos, all is much appreciated

[spookypotato]

Leo’s 20th Birthday

Sooo It’s already the baby’s birthday here and I dont want to wait, so let the fluff begin!

Happy birthday, Leo! ☀️💛 Nutter butter baby! He will always be the baby, but technically he’s not even a teen anymore. Anyway. I hope you enjoy.

Birthday-boy and boyfriends by the incredible @lumosinlove

Idea from @noctualilith thank you

Yes, I am excited about a fictional characters birthday. Everyone that knows this ray of sunshine would fall in love. 

CW: there is a bit of food mentioned

When Leo was 13, he celebrated his birthday with all of his best friends. Eloise made him a lemoncake and Wyatt took them out on the boat to go swimming. It was the last birthday, where he felt completely free in his actions.

When Leo was 14, he got his first crush. The first one he realised was a crush at least. He told no one. He was too afraid, not even of the teesing. He was afraid, because it was a boy. His friend to be exact. His birthday party was fun for him, he didnt know about the other guests. He focused on his friend. He wanted to spend the whole party with him. And they were friends, he could. So he did and he had fun.

When Leo was 16, he decided to tell his friend. Since they spent so much time together, his crush never really faded, so after two years he just decided fuck it. If it went horribly wrong, he didn‘t care anymore. He needed this out of his system. So Leo told him. His friend didn‘t feel the same, but he didn‘t seem to mind about Leo. He did tell him however, that it should rather be kept a secret, because if the others found out, he might even be thrown off the team. This was what terrified him. Before, he was scared of maybe loosing his friends, now he was scared of loosing everything. He‘d worked so hard for being where he was. He had a chance of playing in the NHL, if he kept it up, at least that‘s what his coach was telling him. So he decided to hide it.

When Leo was 17, he told his family. Leo gathered all his courage and told them at a family lunch. They had the best reaction he could have wished for, really, but he had lived to long thinking it‘s a bad thing, so he assumed they were just being nice parents. When they made him a bracelet however, he knew they hadn‘t lied. They wouldn‘t have thought about giving him this gift, if they had been disapointed in their son. They showed him, they were proud. He knew now, whatever happend, he would have his family standing behind him, supporting him. He could at least be open about his feelings, where it mattered the most, home. He could let himself go, gush about that cute boy he saw in the coffee shop and feel excepted everytime his father mentioned Leo at his age, settled down with his maybe-husband by then, possibly with children, running around in their backyard.

When Leo was 18, he got drafted into the NHL. His dream came true. All the sacrifices he had made to get there, were finally worth it, because he could turn his passion into his career. All the boys, he had forced himself not to look at for too long, so people wouldn‘t even question him. All the girls he had pretended to be interested in, those moments were worth it. He felt amazing. He achieved what he had worked for, but now he was facing a new problem. Even though Leo was a gay teenager, the naked guys walking around weren‘t actually a problem for him. Well, not all of them. Of course, the world was against him and chose two incredibly attractive people, who he couldn‘t even look at too long, nevermind kiss or date, to go with his NHL-goalie-gryffindor-dream package. He had to prove everyday how much he wanted to play hockey and how much he was willing to sacrifice.

Before Leo turned 19, he was hiding. He lived a dream, that slowly broke his heart. He was playing professinal hockey and loved it everyday, but he was also pretending everday, that he didn‘t want. So he hid it, because hockey was his dream and now was the time for hockey. He could probably still find a nice boyfriend at 40 years old, if they even kept him that long. For now he planned on staying focused on his career.

But before Leo turned 19, he also decided to just throw those plans out the window and kiss Finn. He hadn‘t planned it- not to say he didn‘t want to do it- it just shouldn‘t have happen, but it did. The second their lips touched though, he forgot why he shouldn‘t have done it. How could this not be right, when Finn and Leo both wanted it so much.

For a moment, at the airport he was reminded, why it was wrong. Why he couldn‘t risk it now. But then he thought about it. Thought about how much happier Sirius had been, how even a NHL player could have, what Leo wanted. And so he tried his best to get it.

And he did.

His 20th birthday was a wednesday.

Leo‘s eyes opened in one go and his feet jerked up.

„Logan!“, he groaned sleepily. The brunet had bellyflopped onto him, shaking him awake in an instant.

„Leo, Baby, Peanut, Nutty, Butty!“, Logans face looked like he had surprised himself with the last name, „That‘s a new one, but it works“, repositioning himself better on his boyfriends chest, hands supporting his head, he smiled dopely up at Leo.

Leo let his eyes slip closed for another second, Logans weight grounding him and his warmth surrounding him. It was too early. They had practice and he knew that, but it seemed earlier than usual. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at their alarm clock.

„Logan!“, he groaned again, as he saw, that they were awake an hour too early.

Logan shifted, having layed down his head on Leo‘s chest, he tilted his head up to look at the blond.  „As much as I love that my name is the only thing on your mind right now, a, Finn must be getting jealous and b, we did actually have a reason to wake you earlier.“ Then Logan leaned up and started trailing lingering kisses up his boyfriends neck over his jaw, finally reaching his mouth.

Leo happily complied and kissed him slowly. They broke apart to soon in Leo‘s opinion, but it was all worth it to just see as Finn came in through the door, still only dressed in his underwear. He was carrying a small box, wrapped in newspaper and a bright yellow bow tied around it. He sat down on the end of the bed and Logan moved off of Leo and next to the red head. They looked at him expectantly. He sat up slowly.

„Happy Birthday, Baby!“, both Logan and Finn more or less shouted as soon as Leo looked at them.  He was a bit overwhelmed, but then remembered. Today was his birthday. He hadn‘t really celebrated it for a few years, he didn‘t even know why. This however, warmed his heart. Both the boys he loved so much, beaming at him from the end of the bed.

„You know how hard it is to keep up a normal conversation with you, before saying that? I promised this one though“, he shoved Finn playfully, „that I would wait for him to finish everything. But I had to wake you! It‘s your birthday! Happy birthday, Peanut!“

Leo wasn‘t even sure if Logan had taken a breath in between his rambling but he smiled softly at them. Felling their love warming him, even through the distance between them.

„You already said that.“, Leo commented, but smiled, „Thank you both so much. Come here.“

They both more or less jumped at him, Leo recieving the best cuddles and a few more whispered ‚happy birthday“s from Logan and Finn, until they were all wrapped around each other, Leo in the middle. It felt nice to be in the middle for once. He held Logan securely in his arms, slowly stroking a hand over his side, Finn wrapped up around him, making him feel warm and protected. He liked being the big spoon and having Logan in the middle, but he could see himself sneaking in the middle every once i a while.

„We can still sleep for a bit.“, he heard Finn say from behind him. He had gotten the blankets over them again and was already burrying his nose in between Leo‘s shoulder blades. „Sorry for waking you this early, Nutty. We had to prepare things.“, Finn stopped for a second, like waiting for Leo‘s reaction, but then continued, „and we just couldn‘t wait to cuddle you.“

Leo made a soft noise, his hand combing through Logans hair, who was already back to sleep, really more like you expected from an excited baby, rather than a professinal hockey player. It was only then, Leo thought about what Finn had said. Under normal circumstances Leo might have sat up upruptly and ran to the kitchen, to the inevitable mess that must be there.

„Whatever it is you did-“, Leo started, but then thought again.

He was surrounded by love, on his birthday. The love he had always desired to have, espcially on his that day. All the fun events couples in movies had planned for each other to make their birthdays special, he had always wished for that. He had always thought, he could never have that, but now he did. He had it doubled.

Snuggling back further into Finns chest he repeated, already drifting back to sleep, „Whatever it is you did, thank you.“

[jjmaybud]

two of the same | kiara carrera

summary: it’s your and kiara’s wedding day and there’s a surprise waiting at the end of the aisle.

pairing(s): kiara carrera x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warning(s): fluff, swearing, alcohol use.

author’s note: every two hundred days I post an imagine. this sucks but its been a work in progress in my drafts for like seven months and I just wanted it out there.

For as long as you could remember, Kiara and you have been on the same wavelength. You had met when you both were fourteen and trying to save turtles from the seagulls loitering on the beach. You were a pogue, but you kept to yourself most of the time until the day you both were out on the beach swinging thick sticks at any bird that tried to take your sea turtles. After that, you became inseparable. Sometimes you would finish each other’s sentences—the pogues gagged every time. You could look at Kiara, and she would know what you were thinking like the time you didn’t have enough money for some Mike and Ike’s at the gas station. Once Kiara caught your eye, she distracted the store owner so you could sneak out with a box or two. There were times when you didn’t even have to look at her. She knew what was going in your head, and you knew what was going on in hers. Anytime your mood changed, anytime you didn’t feel like you were enough, she knew how to approach each scenario with what you needed.

And when you started developing feelings for her, you didn’t even have to tell her. You did, though. It was the only time you felt like you needed to express in words rather than the connection you shared. Kiara deserved words.

You took her out on HMS Pogue to a nice place that wasn’t traveled very often and sipped on cheap beer the two of you snatched from the boys. She could tell you were anxious about something but knew to give you time. You would spit it out eventually. But once the sun started to go down, she was worried for the first time that you wouldn’t say it at all. She knew how you felt about her. She was sure you knew how she felt about you. But now you were sitting there, nervously swinging your legs over the edge of the Pogue, and she wasn’t sure if she was right this time.

Deciding against words, Kiara placed her hand on your lower thigh and rubbed her thumb into your soft skin. Your legs stopped swinging immediately, and the both of you felt the tension disappear.

“I’m in love with you,” you blurted. “I know we never say what we’re feeling to each other, we just know, but I wanted to make sure you knew just how much I’m in love with you. Kie, I would travel the world three times around in just this little boat to measure how much I truly love you."

You rambled on listing times when you knew you loved her and metaphors of just how much she meant to you. You told her that you didn’t know if she could even tell how you felt because the feeling was so new and exciting and terrifying. You never felt this way about anyone, even the list of celebrity crushes that had come and gone couldn’t compare to the way you felt about her. The way her cheeks crinkled her eyes when she smiled, the way she couldn’t go anywhere without her bracelets, the way she cared about everyone else way more than she cared about herself. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect for you.

She cried, and then you cried because she was crying. The hand on your thigh moved to the side of your face with her finger tips weaving in the little hair at the bottom of your neck and her thumb catching the tears that came down your face. She guided your face to hers and pressed her lips against yours in a sweet kiss. It was unfamiliar territory seeing as how your previous relationships have never felt this intimate. Have never felt this freeing.

∴∵∴∵∴∵∴

That was years ago. Now, both of you had just graduated college and freshly twenty-three. Today was your wedding day. You were going to marry the girl you’ve been in love with since you were sixteen. The two of you had your ups and your downs. Your fights could break any couple a part but not you and Kiara. Because even though you fought hard, you loved harder.

You stared at your reflection in the antique, gold-trimmed mirror. Her parents insisted the two of you got married where they hosted Midsummer’s every year. Your parents had passed away a couple of years before, so the both of you granted the Carrera’s that much since they were paying for it. After all of the mischief the pogues and you caused at that golf course, you and Kie were surprised they agreed to let you have your wedding there. Neither of you cared where you got married. You’d have a courtroom wedding if it meant you two could finally prove your love on paper. Kiara didn’t really care about being “legally bound to someone like you’re their property,” but she thought since it was two women it felt like a big fuck you to the misogynistic system of it all.

You smoothed out your flowing summer dress that went down to your knees with spaghettis straps that showed off an appropriate amount of cleavage and shoulders. The only thing on your feet were the bracelets the pogues each made each other when you were all young and dumb on one ankle and the one that only had one matching twin on the other that was worn by the woman waiting down at the other end of the aisle. The flower crown on your head wasn’t as bulky as the one on Kiara’s head from the Midsummer held during the treasure hunting summer, but it was definitely a homage to the most awesome and awful summer ever.

“Y/N,” John B said from the doorway. He smiled as you looked at him through the mirror. “Ready?”

You laughed. “Since I saw her.”

You turned around and walked over to take his outreached elbow.

“You look beautiful.”

The other two boys were waiting in the hall. Smiles broke out on the everyone’s faces as you each took each other in. Each of the boys knew this would happen eventually. You knew they would be there for you no matter who it was. Pope held the turtle-shaped ring box since JJ called for the job as flower girl. JJ took his job proudly and seriously as he held the basket full of flower petals. Kie and you decided not to hear them bitch and moan about wearing anything resembling formal attire so you let them wear whatever they wanted. Luckily, John B was able to talk Pope and JJ out of wearing the tacky tuxedo t-shirts, and they all settled for similar looking beach attire like they used to wear when they were teenagers.

“Let’s get these two hitched! Come on!” JJ yelled and took off down the hall, careful not spill the flower petals. You were impressed.

Pope kissed you on the cheek and asked, “Nervous?”

“Never.”

The three of you walked to the end of the hall. John B and you stopped before you could pass by the wall of windows, so you didn’t see Kiara before it was time. Pope went on just in time to see JJ dancing down the aisle to Crazy in Love by Beyoncé and see his finale.

“Dude! How am I supposed to compete with that?” You heard Pope yell over the music. The crowd starts to laugh before their laughs turn into cheers as Pope does his thing down the aisle.

You shake your head. “I can’t wait to see the wedding video.”

“Oh, yeah, you won’t be disappointed.” John B laughed.

The music switched to the instrumental of If I Could Fly by One Direction that you chose. You almost dragged John B the moment you heard the beginning chords, but you held yourself back and waited for John B to lead you. You forced yourself to wait again until you got to the doorway to look at Kiara. You could already feel the tears build up behind your eyes at the anticipation at how gorgeous she would look like waiting down at the end of the aisle. As people set their sights on you, you could hear gasps and whispers but you thought it was just because of how good you looked. But when you looked up to catch sight of your future wife, you knew that wasn’t what caught their eyes.

In sync, you and Kiara threw your head back and laughed heartily from the pit of your gut. Even with the setting sun behind her, you could clearly see the dress she wore that matched the one you spent hours deciding on before you chose it to wear on your wedding day. From head to toe, you matched. You decided to wear matching flower crowns because there was no way that your dressed would match. The two of you thought it was too insane that you didn’t even have someone check to make sure.

Through an enormous amount of giggles, John B finally got you down the aisle where he handed you off to Kiara before taking his spot next to Sarah on Kiara’s side. Kiara lead you to your spot next to JJ and Pope. Both of your hands went to each other’s face to wipe the tears of laughter away.

“How? How does this happen to us?” You asked.

She laughed some more and said, “Because we’re two of the same. And I love you just the way you are.”

Oh, how you wanted to skip to the kissing part.

[kimoralov3]

Love to Hate Me

Requested by: @NuclearPizza84

Word Count: 2314

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x mutant!black!fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, fighting, fire, use of mutant abilities, Erik being an ass

(Y/N)'s POV

Picking up my book, I flipped through the pages. Yeah, I'll leave the science stuff to Charles.

"(Y/N), I would like to introduce you to my new friend Erik. He'll be staying with us while I build up the school. Erik, this is my younger sister (Y/N)." Charles said as he walked into the living room. I looked up, waving at Erik.

"Hello, nice to meet you." I got up and held my hand out for him to shake, but he just looked at it then looked back at me. Well that was rude. 

"(Y/N), do you know where Raven is?" Charles didn't seem to notice his new 'friend' being a dick. 

"Last time I checked she was in her room. She might be taking a nap right now though." I explained as I pointed in the direction of the bedrooms. Charles nodded and made his way down the hall, leaving me and Erik alone.

"So do you have any abilities?" Erik finally spoke up. So he does speak. Good to know.

"I can control and create fire. You?"

"Now why would I tell you that?"

"So I tell you mine but you're gonna bitch about me knowing yours? Seems totally fair." I sassed as I crossed my arms over my chest. Erik rolled his eyes, brushing past me and going in the same direction as Charles. Asshole.

----

6 months.

6 months of having to deal with that asshole named Erik Lehnsherr. Surprised I haven't 'accidently' killed him yet. Charles had gotten the school set up to open in the fall, so me, Raven, Hank, Alex, Seth, and him have been perfecting courses for any possible mutation our future students might have. Erik was supposed to be helping, but he spent most of the time complaining about the way things were playing out.

"I'm glad to see that all our hard work has paid off." Erik announced as he walked into one of the training rooms. This specific one was made to withstand high temperatures, so it was perfect for me and Alex to use for practice.

"Your work? You ain't done shit this whole process." I said as I took off my gloves. 

"Like you have? Every time I run into you you seem to just be standing at your desk." Erik scoffed. 

"I'm the one who's been hiring all the builders and chefs, Erik. I'm the one who's spent 20 hours a week contacting parents and trying to convince them that we can properly care for their child. And what have you been doing? Walking around and putting your unwanted opinions in the air. So don't come to me talking about how I'm the one who hasn't done any work." 

"Is everything alright here?" Charles asked as he walked in. 

"Your sister is being a bitch." Erik said calmly.

"I'm being a bitch? Real mature." I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to what I was doing before Erik interrupted me. As I was getting a mannequin from the storage room, I felt a pull on my bracelet. What the hell? I looked up to see Erik holding his hand out in the general direction of my arm. "So you're seriously gonna do this?"

"(Y/N), Erik, enough. Now is not the time." Charles warned. Before he could step in, Erik used his powers to push him out the room, locking the door. 

"That's better. Now, shall we begin?" Erik asked as he took off his jacket and threw it on the floor. I took off my bracelet, throwing it at him. 

"I'm not wasting my time with this, Erik. I have training to do."

"So you're backing out, just like that? That's a shame. I thought (Y/N) Xavier would have more courage than that." 

"You want to fight, Lehnsherr? Fine, let's fight." I huffed out as I summoned a fireball, purposefully missing him by an inch. He dodged it, although it wasn't going to hit him anyway. 

"There we go! Come on, don't hold back." Erik shouted as he slipped my bracelet back onto my arm, pulling me towards the wall. I focused all the heat in my body to my wrist, melting off the bracelet. That was one of my favorites. I made a trail of fire around the room, taking it up and down the walls and around the ceiling. The final curve made a circle around Erik, trapping him where he stood. 

"Is that good enough for you?" I asked as I dusted my hands on my pants. Erik tried to step closer to me, causing it to grow high enough to reach his waist. "Is this what you wanted? For you to be 6 steps away from catching fire? Because if so, all you had to do was ask."

"Oh don't be like that, (Y/N). You know this is all in good fun." Erik gasped out.

"Do I? Because the whole time that we've known each other, you've been an ass. I tried to properly introduce myself, you ignored me. I offered to show you around the grounds, you called me a silly girl and walked off. I even offered to help you train, but you just pushed past me. I have tried multiple times to get to know you, yet everytime you act like a dick. So no, Erik Lehnsherr, I don't know that this is all in good fun, because I don't know you at all!" I shouted. Each word I got closer, and each sentence I became more and more upset. The fire grew bigger, the circle around Erik closing more and more the angrier I got. Erik didn't speak, he just hung his head down in shame. Pathetic. "So now you have nothing to say?" 

"(Y/N), I didn't-" Erik was cut off by the sound of the doors swinging open, Charles and Raven standing there. I extinguished the fire, brushing past the two of them and running to my room.

----

Erik's POV

"Why can't you just get along? What's the point of the useless bickering and fighting? What has she done to deserve this kind of treatment?" Charles shouted as he paced back and forth in front of his desk. 

"Charles, you know I never meant for it to get as bad as it did just now. I thought that I was helping her." I explained as I watched him pace.

"I know that Erik, but you can't expect the woman you've treated like gum on the bottom of your shoe to know that. Why can't you just tell her the truth? (Y/N) is very understanding."

"It's not that simple, Charles. Especially after all this time. She hates me." 

"You'll never know until you try. At least start with an apology. While you're doing that, I'm going to go asses the damage in the training room. I wish you luck, my friend." Charles patted me on my shoulder, walking out of the room. 

This is not going to go well for me.

----

(Y/N)'s POV

"What's going on between you and Erik? I mean, I know the two of you have never gotten along that well, but it's never gotten to the point where the two of you use your abilities against each other." Raven asked as she sat on my bed, handing me a cup of tea.

"There's nothing going on between us, that's the problem. Ever since he's gotten here, he's done nothing but pick at me. I've tried to be nice to him, but he always shuts me down. It wouldn't be so annoying if he wasn't so fucking hot." I grumbled as I took a sip of tea. 

"What did you just say?" Raven asked as she looked at me in shock. 

"What?" I didn't say anything out of the ordinary.

"You just called Erik hot." Shit.

"What? No I didn't." I avoided her eyes, setting my tea on my dresser. Wow, that's very nice wood work. How have I just now noticed this?

"Yes you did! I definitely heard you say it." Raven said as she moved to stand in front of me. I sighed, rolling over so I was facing the window. "(Y/N), tell me the truth. Do you like Erik?"

"Maybe." I whispered. 

"Well why haven't you asked him out yet?"

"Did you not see what happened earlier today? Erik clearly hates me, and I don't think that that's ever going to change. So why even bother." I explained as I rolled onto my back. Raven laid next to me, putting my head on her chest and rubbing my back. 

"I don't think he hates you, (Y/N). I just think he doesn't know how to properly express his feelings. He's been through a lot, so it might take a lot to bring down those walls. Just give him time, I'm sure things will fall into place." 

"You sound like our brother." I mumbled as I closed my eyes. She giggled, patting me on my arm.

"Well, I am the one who has to sit there and listen to his stupid thesis, because somebody just so happens to be asleep whenever he needs opinions."

"Yeah, well you spend enough time listening to Charles and you'll learn how to avoid his 3 hour long thesis."

----

It's been 2 weeks since the incident, and Erik hasn't even attempted to make it look like he hasn't been avoiding me. I went back to helping make final preparations for the start of school, and Erik went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing. 

"(Y/N), Charles said that he wants to talk to you in his study." Alex said as he walked up to. 

"About what?"

"He didn't say, just said that it was urgent." He walked off, leaving me to make my way to Charles' study. Wonder what he wants now. I knocked on the door, pushing the door open slightly.

"Charles? What's up?" I asked as I stepped in. Charles wasn't at his desk, but there was someone sitting in front of the desk. Erik.

"He isn't here."

"Yeah, I can see that. Guess I'll come back later." I said softly as I moved to leave the office.

"(Y/N), wait." Erik called as he softly grabbed my hand. I looked at him, then down at our hands. We've never actually touched before. "I want to apologize for what happened a few weeks ago. And for how I've been treating you ever since we met. You've done nothing to deserve that."

"Apology accepted, I guess. Is there something else you need?" I asked as I looked him in the eyes. I think I just found my new favorite shade of blue. 

"Yes there is. I guess there is no time like the present." Erik said as he looked down at me.

"What are you talking about?" 

"Follow me." He said. He didn't give me much of a choice, he just grabbed my hand and pulled me somewhere more private. He walked towards the stairwell, taking me onto the roof. 

"What, are you gonna push me off the roof or something?" I joked as I looked over the ledge. It is a pretty far drop.

"Why would I ever do that?" Erik asked as he stepped closer to me. 

"I don't know, maybe because you hate my guts." I said nonchalantly. Something flashed across his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. 

"(Y/N), I would never do anything to hurt you." Erik whispered. 

"Really? Why have you been treating me the way you have then?" I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head to the side slightly. 

"Because I think I love you." He said softly. My heart skipped a beat, causing my breathing to slow a little.

"What?"

"I said I think I love you. And I think I fell for you the moment that I saw you. That's why I was such an ass; I wasn't sure how to properly show you how I felt. That's not an excuse for my actions, though. You don't have to accept my confession, but I just thought that I'd let you know. I'll leave you alone for now." 

Before Erik could walk away, I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down so we were eye to eye. I looked in his eyes, then to his lips, then back at his eyes. "If you're going to kiss me, go ahead and do it." I said softly I gave Erik a slight smile. He leaned down some more, our lips brushing. I pulled him down more, our lips finally meeting. I've been waiting for this moment for almost 7 months now.

"Sorry, I didn't realize that I was interrupting something." Charles' voice called from the entrance to the roof. Erik and I pulled apart, turning our attention towards Charles. 

"You're always messing something up, Charles. What was it you needed?" I asked, not stepping away from Erik.

"It's not important. Carry on you two." Charles said as he made his way back into the house. I turned to Erik and slapped his chest lightly.

"You didn't think to lock the door?"

"Well to be fair, most normal people don't go onto the roof when they're looking for someone." Erik explained as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

"We both know that Charles is far from normal. He probably used his telepathic abilities to find us." He said as he looked back at the stairwell door. I giggled, turning his head back to face me and giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

"Or he set this up to get you to confess your feelings." I said as I leaned my head against his chest. He seemed to mull over the thought for a second before letting out a scoff.

"That little shit."

[princessphilly]

Hockey Fic Exchange: Second Chance in Chicago

This is for the @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange. I was matched with my friend, @texanstarslove​ and it was relatively easy to give her what she wanted. 

Title: Second Chance in Chicago

Player: Jonathan Toews

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 6410 words

 March 2007

“Wouldja look at that? There’s the future NHL star, looking like the dork he is.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue as Rachel announced the presence of the asshole himself, Jonathan Toews. They were all sophomores at UND but he had gotten drafted third overall by the Chicago Blackhawks last year. Hockey ruled UND so the team already had a high profile. But this year’s team looked like it would do some damage in the tournament so all eyes were really on them.

Tonight, Lizzie and her friends had decided to go to a frat party at the Beta house. It was a cold early March Thursday night but she had been in the mood to party. Unfortunately, the party had been invaded by the hockey team.

Jonathan grinned, his deep brown eyes sparkling like he had already pregamed. “Hey ladies,” he greeted before grabbing Lizzie and giving her a hug.

“Ew!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away. He definitely had pregamed, he smelled like good old Vladimir vodka. He was going to have a fucking hangover tomorrow.

Jonathan pouted. “I thought we were friends, Lizzie,” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie again

“When did you think that?”

Rachel and Bethany snickered. It was a bit of a running joke, this animosity between Lizzie and Tazer. No one quite knew how it really started except it had been a freshman year hook up that ended bad. At least, that was the rumor. Ever since, Lizzie couldn’t stand Jonathan and Jonathan did every thing possible to needle her.

Lizzie flipped her hair over her shoulder before elbowing Jonathan in the ribs. Giving him an angelic smile, she ordered, “Don’t touch me.”

Being the drunken asshole he was at the moment, Jonathan leaned down and murmured in her ear, “You didn’t say that last weekend.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away before stomping towards the keg. Jonathan shrugged as TJ and some of the other hockey players came in. She was able to avoid him for the rest of the night and even flirted with a couple of junior guys she hadn’t met. Of course, as soon as she went to get a breather from the hot party, Jonathan was already outside.

Shivering, Lizzie huddled close to the door, planning to ignore Toews. There had been a snowstorm the other day and there was a good ten inches of snow on the ground.  

“Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

Lizzie let out a loud sigh. Of course, he couldn’t respect her silent plea to be left alone. “This is North Dakota. It’s always snowing.”

Turning to her left, Lizzie looked at Jonathan. For once, he didn’t have his cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the one in complete charge’ look on his face. He looked slightly pensive and a bit unsure. “Here, have my hoodie.”

“I don’t-,” Lizzie started to say but she relented as Jonathan put his hoodie over her head, pulling it down. She was cold as fuck, shivering in just a short-sleeved shirt and her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for several moments, breath turning into puffs of icicles before Jonathan finally broke the ice. “Ridley, really?”

“Oh, you know him?” Lizzie tensed, UND wasn’t as big as other schools but she could at least have found someone that Jonathan didn’t already know. But then, hockey ruled here and he knew more people than her so yeah, just her fucking luck.

“He’s cool.” Jonathan shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous as fuck. It really wasn’t his area to talk, he didn’t really want to be a cock-block, but fuck it. “He’s not an asshole or anything. But we both know that’s not who you really want.”

“Oh really? Who told you what I really want?”

He hadn’t really planned to do it now; Jonathan had planned to go for it next month. But he already had told coach and his teammates that he was going pro after this season, so he might as well do it. “We have unfinished business, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie froze at Jonathan’s use of her full name.  He was the only one here at UND who ever used her full name. It brought back memories, those first weeks of spring semester of freshman year. Memories of doing things that would have had Momma reaching for her rosary and Papa yanking her out of UND to go into a convent. She bit out, “No, we don’t.”

“So, that’s why you called me last Saturday, asking me to come over after the game?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I was drunk,” she very primly replied, staring at her nails. She thought to herself, ‘I need a manicure.’

“Then last weekend, you came over and you definitely weren’t drunk.”

Lizzie shrugged, pretending she didn’t hear what Jonathan said. She didn’t want to admit the truth; Jonathan made her nervous. She was 19 and every time she was with him, she felt like this could be something that could be forever. But Lizzie had plans; she was planning to go east for law school, get out of North Dakota forever. This wasn’t the time to even think of settling down with anyone, especially not with Jonathan since he was going pro. Even though, her traitorous pussy reminded her, Jonathan made her cum better than anyone else and wasn’t scared to choke, bite, or spank her unlike other guys.

Jonathan growled, of course Lizzie would be acting obtuse. He wasn’t looking to settle down or anything serious, he was just about to turn 19 and about to go to Chicago in five and a half months to start his pro career. Jonathan did really like Lizzie a lot and wouldn’t be against putting a label on what was going on. Then, Lizzie got cold feet last year and had been stringing him along for over a year. It would be nice if Lizzie actually admitted that they had something going instead of being nasty to his face but fucking with him late at night.

“Okay, since you don’t want to face reality, I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair that you like to treat me like shit in public but you want me to fuck you when no one is looking.”

Lizzie opened her mouth before closing it. From the tone of voice that Jonathan had used, it sounded harsh. Like she was using him like a whore. But Jonathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry about my hoodie, I’ll get it before I leave.”

Jonathan turned around and went back inside of the party. Lizzie stayed outside for several more minutes, pensive. Then she harrumphed and rejoined the party, resolute that she was going to ignore Jonathan once she gave him his hoodie back.

**

Twelve years later

Lizzie brushed her ginger hair over her shoulder. It was weird to be ginger for the first time since she was fifteen. The past years, she had been a very faithful blonde but it was time to do something very different.

“Not bad for a rancher’s daughter.”

Lizzie twirled in her full-length mirror, admiring the way the navy-blue dress fit her body, accessorized with her diamond hoop earrings, tennis bracelet, class ring, and the brand-new patent leather heels she had managed to score on clearance at Neiman Marcus. Very much the uniform of an intellectual property litigator who had just made partner, not the yee-haw who had went to UND. But right now, as she thought about tonight, Lizzie felt like the yee-haw she tried to suppress.

Tonight, there was a fundraising cocktail hour for her firm, Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper. This would be the first one that Lizzie attended since she transferred to the Chicago office from Atlanta. She was good at gladhanding and charming people, attending Penn Law had sucked the yee-haw from Lizzie’s accent. Now, she was Elizabeth Romanelli, ready to make connections while raising funds for the Children’s Miracle Network.

Only fly in the ointment was that this fundraiser was being held at the United Center. Not only that, it was rumored that the firm was able to get a couple of players for the Blackhawks to appear. Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper did some work for the Blackhawks, mainly with local TV contracts and sponsorships. Lizzie took in a deep fortifying breath. “It has been years,’ she told herself. “There’s no need to be nervous seeing Jon again.”

She turned around and grabbed her coat. It was mid fall but the temperature dropped enough at night that Lizzie wanted to wear her coat just in case. Before she left, she looked at her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her old wedding ring off her finger. It was a new start, time to act like it.

**

The fundraiser went pretty well, in Lizzie’s eyes. It was her first firm social event in Chicago so most of it was spent shaking hands, exchanging business cards, and talking some shop. There were a couple of Blackhawks players there, none of that Lizzie recognized. She admitted several times while in conversation, that she was more of a college hockey than pro hockey fan.

Then, the one person she was hoping wouldn’t show up, showed up. Lizzie worked hard not to check Jonathan out but he had the kind of presence that commanded attention. His hair was cut short and the once lanky frame had filled out completely. Lizzie smirked when she saw one of her fellow attendees lick her lips but she couldn’t blame her. Jonathan looked delicious in a black suit with a pristine white shirt, no tie. He looked like casual, dominant elegance in a hockey player package as he made his rounds the room.

“You’re lucky that your department doesn’t work with the Blackhawks on anything,” said the woman who licked her lips. Lizzie looked down and looked at her name tag, it said ‘Elise’.

“Oh why?”

Lizzie took a sip of her pinot grigio, waiting for a reply. Elise didn’t disappoint as she whispered, “He’s single and my law school loans say he would be perfect for them.”

She couldn’t resist laughing at that statement; Lizzie totally understood where Elise was coming from. But as soon as her laughter faded, there was Jonathan Toews, right in front of them. Elise looked up at him, obviously starstruck. Lizzie put her best courtroom face as she stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Romanelli. You are?”

Jonathan blinked when Lizzie introduced herself as Elizabeth Romanelli. She was Lizzie MacArthur in the flesh, all these years later. Grasping her hand, Jonathan said, “Jonathan Toews, but you know who I am.”

Jonathan kept his best PR smile on his face as he processed his thoughts. This was Lizzie, the only one who got away. She was a redhead now, not a blonde, but those green eyes were still the same. Deep green eyes that always brimmed with an intelligence that had made Jon feel like he was an idiot when they first met at UND.

“Oh, how do you two know each other?”

Lizzie managed to keep her expression completely neutral while Jon reddened a bit. He dropped her hand as he said, “We went to college together.”

“Where was that,” Elise innocently asked and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or if she was being a bit catty.

“I went to University of North Dakota with Mr. Toews for undergrad,” Lizzie said. “Then I did Penn Law.”

Elise replied, “Oh. I remember reading that once.”

Lizzie refused to roll her eyes as Jon made small talk about the hockey season with Elise. Spotting a waiter, Elise raised her hand for another glass of wine. Tonight, was looking like it was about to be long. Before she could make her escape, Elise exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Mr. Schmidt, I need to talk to him! It was so nice to meet you and talk to you, Mr. Toews, Ms. Romanelli.”

Lizzie sighed as she scampered away, leaving her alone with Jonathan.

“Long time, no see,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water. Tomorrow was a game night and while he enjoyed drinking, he had no interest in doing anything that would keep him out of peak performance. But looking at Lizzie, he wished he had something stronger. The years had done her good; she looked curvier, stronger, hotter. He felt his pants tighten and Jonathan thought of his smelly hockey gear to deflate his hard on.

Lizzie stroked the curve of her new wine glass before replying, “I know. Wasn’t necessarily planned.”

“Romanelli?”

“I was married,” Lizzie’s smile tightened.

Jonathan quickly replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything that would make you feel- “

“It’s okay, let’s not go there, okay. Before you ask, I’m a widow.” Lizzie looked down at her wine. It had been long enough that she knew she wouldn’t break down but it was awkward to talk about it with her first college hookup/almost boyfriend. After all these years, Jonathan still had an affect on her. She felt a bit lightheaded but her once dormant libido had flared up as soon as they shook hands. It was as if her body had decided that someone worthy was nearby and it was time.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated, his voice low as he ran his fingers through his short hair. It was a bit overwhelming seeing Lizzie again but he was already damn sure that he needed to see her again. As they exchanged pleasantries, Jon moved on to another group at the fundraiser. But every now and then, he made sure to catch her in the crowd.

At the end of the night, he was finally able to get Lizzie alone, again. “Now that you’re in Chicago, why don’t we go out? As old friends?”

Lizzie laughed as she waited for her coat. “We weren’t old friends and you know it.”

“But who said that we can’t be at least friends now?”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a big smile while she scoffed, “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me all night that you aren’t interested in being just friends.”

“How was I looking at you?”

Jonathan leaned into Lizzie as he noticed that Seabs was nearby. While he loved Seabs as a brother, he didn’t want him to have any idea of what he was planning, yet.

Lizzie batted her lashes at Jonathan before replying, “Like you never seen a woman before. I have to keep the conversation business casual but we both know what I’d really like to say.”

“Then, you should let me have your phone number.”

“Smooth, Toews,” Lizzie commented. “Very smooth.”

“I try.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself; as Lizzie received her coat from the coat check, he helped her put it on.

“Wow, I don’t know if you’re actually a gentleman now or if you’re trying to get points,” Lizzie quipped.

Jonathan gave her an aw-shucks grin and a shrug. Despite her better judgment, Lizzie figured that it couldn’t hurt. She didn’t really know anyone yet in Chicago and it would be nice to talk to someone who she at least knew from college. But she didn’t want to openly give it to Jonathan so she took the moment to turn and grab paper and a pen from a table. Writing her number and snap down, she slid it into Jonathan’s pocket.

“There, now you can never say I never gave you anything.”

Lizzie turned and sauntered away. Jonathan fished through his pockets and grabbed the paper, grinning and laughing to himself.

**

Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit. He knew how to attempt to get a woman’s attention. The flowers were a nice touch; not too ostentatious and he was smart enough not to attach his name to them. But Lizzie knew exactly who they were from because there were exactly nineteen pink and nineteen white roses in Monday’s bouquet. Yesterday’s bouquet was a set of nineteen purple flowers that after she looked them up, Lizzie found out that they were purple columbine. Today’s bouquet involved nineteen white camelias and nineteen red chrysanthemums.

“This guy must really like you.”

Lizzie turned around to see Peter, her paralegal. He was pointing at the flowers, a pensive look on his face.

“Really? He just wants my attention.” Lizzie dismissively waved towards the flowers but inwardly, she was loving it.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever you say. Anyway, I have five messages from the managing partners.”

“I already know what they want and I already reviewed the files and sent them to Kristin, Jacques, and Malik. They are working on the briefs for the arbitration and they should all be done by the end of the work day. I will prep my own opening argument myself for the hearing when we are done talking. You can quote everything I just said in your email,” Lizzie stated with a smile on her face. This was her first arbitration hearing at the Chicago office with her new associates working under her. But she knew it would go well.

“But the flowers. I’d look them up, Ms. Romanelli. He’s sending you a message with each bouquet. Especially that first one with those kind of pink roses, maiden blush roses? Oh, he’s definitely telling you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Lizzie brushed Peter off, her mind already back on work. However, she messaged Jon later, I like jasmine, lily of the valley, the most.

The next day, there was a bouquet with yellow jasmine, lily of the valley, and red pink flowers, the number adding to 19 and a note, looking forward to seeing you tonight.

**

Lizzie was still a mystery and Jonathan was desperate to figure her out. This was their sixth date and every time he felt like he was getting closer to her, Lizzie pulled back. Jon understood but at the same time, he was getting annoyed. He was also horny as fuck and trying very hard not to let his cock dictate his actions.

Tonight, Lizzie wore a little black dress with strappy heels to dinner and all Jonathan could think of was having Lizzie wear those heels while he fucked her hard and fast. It took all his willpower to keep the conversation light during dinner as his traitorous brain filled with all kinds of dirty images. Now, they were having post dinner drinks at a place Kaner had suggested. It was very intimate, the kind of place for seduction. Unfortunately, Jonathan thought, there would probably be no seduction tonight as he stood on the wall with Lizzie.

“I intentionally wore these for you.”

Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes at Jon’s dumbfounded expression. She wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on men. Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit; he was doing a good job of not being a stupid hornball.

“I love them,” Jonathan drawled before taking a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. He told himself to be patient, as they continued to talk but after another half-hour talking about football, Jon finally broached the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you,” Lizzie countered. She went out on a couple of dates with a couple of different guys when the Blackhawks were out of town because, in her mind, she was still a free agent. Doing that actually made Lizzie feel more comfortable with going out with Jonathan. Not that the other dates were bad but Lizzie had to admit to herself that there was still something more with Jonathan.

“No,” Jonathan admitted. His DMs were full on all social media so he could go out with anyone he wanted if he truly felt like it. But right now, he really was just interested in Lizzie.

“That’s nice.”

Lizzie twirled the straw in her cocktail. Jonathan thought about what to say but ended up blurting out, “I still think about some of the things we did.”

“Woooooooow.”

Blushing, Lizzie bit her lip. Some of those memories had come back since she had seen Jonathan again. Some of those things that had seemed extra sinful at eighteen and nineteen were mainstream these days. Plus, Greg had tried but he didn’t have that same aura that teenage Jonathan had. Adult Jonathan had that dominant aura in spades and it was tempting.

Lizzie added, “And?”

Jonathan moved closer to Lizzie, his big body bracketing hers, his monotone voice even deeper, “You remember when I tied you up the first time?”

“That was…. interesting,“ Lizzie replied. She felt flushed, that memory now in her brain. They had been fumbling around and Jonathan had tied her up before making her beg and scream his name. But the knot had got stuck and after he cut her out, Lizzie had chafed skin on both of her wrists. “It was an interesting experiment.”

Jonathan licked his lips. He noticed that Lizzie was flushed, her body leaning towards his. It was almost heady, the tension, he could taste it. So, he decided to press into the attack.

“We’ve both grown up now. I mean, I know what I love to do in the bedroom and I’m not a teen boy fumbling around.”

Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Jonathan’s pronouncement. Steeling her face so that she looked impassive, inwardly she was freaking out a bit. Jonathan had been pretty good fuck in college, better than the rest of her boyfriends before she married Greg. But this Jonathan, three times Stanley Cup winner and hockey superstar Jonathan, he seemed lethal.

And he knew it as he gave Lizzie a little smirk and a wink.

“Don’t worry Lizzie, no one is going to judge you now if you like a little pain. I definitely won’t. You know I liked giving it to you when we were experimenting.”

Exasperated, Lizzie exclaimed, “You’re still so arrogant! I seriously doubt you’d have a chance to fuck me again.”

Jonathan moved closer and Lizzie backed up, backing into the wall. Jonathan got close enough that Lizzie could smell his expensive cologne but far enough that she could easily move away if she wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re still lying to yourself all these years later,” Jonathan murmured, his dark brown eyes looking black. “But I’m patient, I can still wait. You still want me and I’ve always wanted you.”

Lizzie bit her lip and Jonathan resisted the urge to groan. He had thought that he had forgotten her but just meeting her again two months ago had brought back those old feelings. Now, he was getting tired of playing cat and mouse but from what he had learned from TJ and Ridley, Jonathan was trying to be careful and tactical with his advances. He at least managed to get her to go out with him. His cock could wait.

Of course, after telling himself that, images from a decade ago filled his head. Ignoring them, Jonathan instead taunted, “Nothing to say? I never thought lawyers could be rendered speechless.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie reached out and touched Jonathan’s sweater. It was super soft and felt like it was made from the finest cashmere. She finally replied, voice low and soft, “Why am I so attracted to you? This shouldn’t really be happening.”

“Fate.”

It was a very simple reply as Jonathan grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, just a brief touch of closed lips to skin. But it felt like electricity coursed through both of them. Jonathan recovered first before giving Lizzie a devilish smile. “Night, night Elizabeth.”

***

“He’s way too smooth.”

Lizzie took in a deep breath as she watched the first snowfall of the year through her office window. Rachel’s laughter at her complaint registered super loud over her ear pod.

Rachel commented, “Of course he is, he’s had over a decade of practice. I can’t believe he’s still interested; I think Jon has dated models and he could date anyone. You’re lucky as hell, Lizzie.”

Lizzie pouted as she moved away from the window. “I don’t know if I want to be lucky.”

“Well, I remember all of the sneaking around you’d did when we were in college. You had no problems fucking him in private.”

“RACHEL!! Oh, my Gawd, you knew that?!?”

Lizzie put her hand on her forehead, mortified. She thought she had been cautious.

Rachel chuckled before continuing, “No one else figured it out. But it was obvious that sparks were flying. And then Jon goes pro and you end up dating around until you met Greg. But you never were as happy as you were freshman spring.”

Lizzie sighed, feeling a headache beginning to start. “Greg, you know I loved Greg.”

“I know honey, if you hadn’t, I would have seriously considered stopping the wedding,” Rachel consoled. “And he did help you escape the ranch and your parents’ plans.”

“I’ve been a widow for 3 years and this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man,” Lizzie blurted out. Her cheeks reddened as she realized her admission.

There was an extended pause before Rachel finally replied. “Then you should go for it. Greg wouldn’t want you to give up on sex because he’s gone.”

Lizzie flipped through the messages on her work phone as she pondered Rachel’s words.

“I gotta go, Alyssa is about done with school and the baby should be up any minute. Stop thinking and just fuck him. Just remember to put color corrector and concealer over any marks Jonny leaves on you.”

Lizzie exclaimed, “Rachel,” but she had already hung up. Checking her personal phone for messages, Lizzie grinned when she saw she had a snap from Jon. Opening the snap, she saw a photo of Jon signing jerseys and picks with a note of can’t wait to give you one.

Lizzie responded; too bad I’ll be too busy to get one for the next couple of weeks

Lizzie put her phone down, ready to focus on her work before getting a new message from Jon. I told u I can be patient.

**

Lizzie looked down at her list of pros and cons. All the pros were reasons why she should fuck Jonathan: get rid of all the unresolved tension from college, he’s an already proven great fuck, probably the best guy to be her first fuck since Greg passed away. The cons were that he was Jonathan Toews, he was famous, and he did have the ability to be an asshole. Her skeptical side told Lizzie that she probably couldn’t keep it casual but the other side was like, was that a bad thing?

Shaking her head, Lizzie pulled on a pair of jeans before putting on a sweater. The Blackhawks were back in town and last night, she went to the game courtesy of Jonathan. Lizzie had taken Elise with her and they enjoyed the Blackhawks winning against the Flames. It was actually fun as Lizzie explained some of the finer points of hockey, such as power plays, penalty kills, offsides, and the fact that all refs in all sports were absolutely awful. Tonight, she actually told Jon she would come over after they saw a movie.

Lizzie was curious about where Jonathan lived. She knew it was in an area called Lincoln Park; she lived in the outskirts of the North Side. Her student loans from law school demanded payment so Lizzie moved in the nicest area she could afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood. “Get a taste of how the rich live tonight,” Lizzie said to herself. However, she did put on a matching pair of underwear just in case she decided to do more.

**

Jonathan looked at Lizzie as the car pulled up to his place. He had been on his best behavior tonight; no sly comments, etc. after last time. But Lizzie had been cuddly during the movie and now, she… he couldn’t read her actions.

Jon entered his code and led Lizzie inside. “Very nice,” Lizzie commented as they walked through the first floor of his place.

“Oh wow, you have my favorite flowers,” Lizzie exclaimed as they walked into his kitchen. There was a vase with Spanish Jasmine flowers.

Jonathan shrugged even though he was inwardly pleased. He had ordered them this afternoon, a rush order when Lizzie said she would come over. Now she was here and he felt at a loss. His cock said to seduce her, his brain said to wait for her cues and see if she was actually interested. Jonathan grabbed two cups and got himself and Lizzie a glass of water before guiding her back into the living room.

“More movies,” Lizzie teased as she made herself comfortable on his leather couch.

Jonathan shook his head no, suddenly nervous as he cut on the TV. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

Lizzie smirked as she watched indecision on Jonathan’s face. Tonight, had been their first date since that conversation and it was obvious that Jonathan was still very interested but didn’t want to do anything that seemed pushy. Lizzie thought at first it was because they were out in public but she realized that if she wanted to actually go there again, she would have to bring it up.

“What are you thinking about, Jon,” Lizzie asked, intentionally shortening his name.

Jonathan put his arms on the back of the couch and mentally said fuck it. “Do you want to good answer or the dirty answer?”

“Dirty answer?”

Lizzie grinned as Jonathan gulped then groaned.

“I keep looking at your ass in those jeans and I want to grab it so bad,” Jonathan admitted. Lizzie looked at his big hands and she decided that tonight was the night.

“You can grab it, if you want?”

“Huh, what?”

Jonathan looked so dumbfounded that Lizzie giggled. “I said you can grab it. That’s another way of saying, you can touch me.”

“Are you sure,” Jonathan asked, locking eyes with Lizzie.

Lizzie rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand. “I came here with the full intent of getting fucked. But if you aren’t interested, that’s okay and we can hang out before I go home.”

“Oh, do you really want me to fuck you?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flung her hair behind her shoulder. “I want you to kiss me, eat my pussy, maybe I’ll suck your cock, and then fuck me, if you want to get precise.”

“Goddamn,” Jonathan breathed. “Fuck, then why don’t you sit in my lap?”

Lizzie climbed into his lap before locking eyes with Jonathan again. His deep brown eyes looked nearly black and he had stubble all around his jaw. She traced his jaw with her fingers before running her fingers through his hair. His voice a deeper monotone, Jonathan murmured, “I’m not going to bite, unless you want me to do that.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie brushed her lips over Jonathan’s, once, then twice. Then she leaned down and nipped his lip. “I like biting,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. Jonathan’s arms came around her waist, keeping Lizzie in place as he began to take over the lazy kiss. Need stretched through their kisses, tongues interacting as over a decade apart melted away. Then Jonathan pulled away. Lizzie reached to pull her sweater off but Jonathan stopped her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in forever on a couch, at least not this time.”

Lizzie laughed as Jonathan picked her up and nearly ran to his bedroom. She didn’t even get a chance to look around and admire before he was on her. Jonathan’s hands were all over her body as he desperately kissed her. Before Lizzie realized it, her sweater and bra were off and so was Jonathan’s hoodie and t-shirt. She could feel his rock-hard abs against her body as Jonathan rolled so that Lizzie was on top.

“Your tits are still fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie beamed as Jonathan gently kneaded them in his hands.

He murmured, “They are still so sensitive,” as her nipples hardened quickly in his fingers, watching Lizzie’s changes in expression. “So, you’ll tell me right away if I do something you don’t like?”

“Like what,” Lizzie asked.

Jonathan lightly grabbed her throat, something they had never done before but something he had learned that he liked to do. “Like that.”

“Mmmm, this is good,” Lizzie replied. Choking was one of the kinks she had explored with Greg and that she missed.

“Fuck, you got dirtier,” Jonathan stated before rolling Lizzie under him again.

“Why don’t you stop talking and undress me some more,” Lizzie ordered.

Jonathan laughed before idly replying, “Normally, I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do but we haven’t even negotiated that yet. And we aren’t, not tonight.”

Lizzie’s giggled as she shimmied out of her jeans. But those giggles were replaced with moans when Jonathan’s fingers brushed her upper and inner thighs before stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.”

He had planned to go slow but Jonathan was pretty sure that wasn’t happening, at least not for this first round. He needed to be deep inside of Lizzie, back where he belonged. Jonathan stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers, revealing his very hard cock. Lizzie reached up and ran a hand over his cock before pumping it with both hands.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Jonathan warned as Lizzie began to jerk him off. “I want to cum deep inside of your pussy, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed. There was something in the way that Jonathan said her full name, it made her pussy drip even more.

Jonathan reached into his night stand and grabbed a condom. “Be a good girl and put this on me.”

Lizzie took the condom from Jonathan’s hands and opened it. Then she guided it over his cock with a wicked grin on her face. Leaning back on her elbows, Lizzie smirked at Jonathan before sucking her lip into her mouth. “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jonathan growled as Lizzie spread her legs, showing him just how wet and ready she was for him. Pulling a leg up and over his shoulder, Jonathan entered Lizzie slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lizzie moaned, her hands grabbing anywhere they could on Jon as he fucked her, slow soft strokes turning harder with each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Lizzie groaned as Jonathan gave her a harder thrust, hips grinding with each stroke.

Jonathan managed to reply, “Your pussy still feels like it was made for me.”

He was already close and Jonathan couldn’t hold off even though he could tell that Lizzie wouldn’t cum with him this time. Jonathan’s lips found Lizzie’s as he kissed her while he came. Lizzie let Jonathan ride his high out, she could feel that she was getting closer but she wasn’t there.

Jonathan slumped against Lizzie for a couple moments before withdrawing from her pussy. He took off the condom, telling Lizzie, “Stay there.”

Dumping the condom into the trash, Jonathan pulled Lizzie to the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs, Jonathan knelt in between, fingers spreading her folds. Then his tongue licked her clit and Lizzie arched off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Jonathan cooed as he played with her clit. Then he dove in, licking her juices from her pussy before tongue-fucking Lizzie’s entrance. His fingers continued to roll her clit with light pressure, enough to keep Lizzie on the edge but not enough to get her to cum. Then Jon sucked her clit into her mouth and bit it very lightly, enough of a shock to get Lizzie to cum with a scream, fingers grabbing sheets to hold on for dear life. Jonathan muttered something in French as Lizzie rode out her high. Then she fell asleep with a light snore.

**

Lizzie laid on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head, body too depleted to move yet. But she peeled herself up as Jonathan was sitting up next to her, a MacBook in his lap.

“Wow, what time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight,” Jonathan replied. He had changed into a pair of sweats and Lizzie licked her lips. He looked really good in gray sweats.

She shrugged. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“I cleaned you up after you passed out.”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a wicked grin as she blushed. “It’s been a while,” she replied.

Lizzie got up and Jonathan pointed to his left, indicating that was the way to get to the bathroom. Lizzie stepped inside of the master bathroom, still too tired to check it out. After taking care of business and washing her hands, Lizzie walked back into Jonathan’s bedroom. Jonathan handed her a t-shirt and said, “You’re too tired to attempt to drive home. You can stay here; I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I like cumming so you don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

Lizzie gave Jon a saucy smile while he groaned.

**

Let yourself be happy. Find that guy again, the one who was before me. I just want you to be happy, don’t shrivel up and die because I’m gone.

Lizzie looked at the note, last note from Greg before he passed from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her wedding ring was on next to it, the simple gold band twinkling in the late winter sun.

Today was her seventh month since her move to Chicago, fifth since she met Jonathan for the first time in years. Tonight, she was going to the game, Elise going with her but this time, they were going to sit with the WAGs. Lizzie had met Jonathan’s closest friends and teammates and it was obvious that there was something happening between them. But Lizzie felt the need to look at this one more time.

“I’m going to be happy, Greg,” Lizzie whispered before putting her old wedding ring and the note in a box, setting it next to a vase of nineteen red tulips that Jon had given her. Then she pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent all work calls on her work phone to voicemail. Picking up her personal phone, Lizzie smiled as she looked at the text from Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to run this time. She was going to embrace a future with Jonathan.

[emy-loves-you]

Accessories and Crushes

This is Day 1 of the TSUS Challenge: Dukexiety!

Summary: Remus buys some jewelry to make himself look good and impress his crush, Virgil. But why does he look so upset by that?

Pairings: Dukexiety, background Roceit

Word Count: 3769

Warnings: Bullying, stealing, miscommunication, implied violence, blood

"C'mon boys! You need to leave now or you'll be late!"

"Coming Mom!" Both boys called out, Roman from the bathroom and Remus from his bedroom. The green-clad twin had finished putting on his makeup and was now frowning at his reflection. Something was missing. There was some part of his style that was incomplete. It had been missing for a while now, and because of it Remus looked incomplete. Bland. Boring. And he couldn't tell what was missing. He'd tried switching out his makeup palette (Roman had so many leftover, since he liked to do his own makeup in theater. He wouldn't miss this one), he tried different outfit styles, he even tried things that he never imagined wearing like skirts and high heels, but nothing felt right. Maybe I need new accessories?

There was a knock on his door and Roman poked his head in, a lopsided grin on his face. "C'mon, we gotta go before mom kills us."

Remus scoffed, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Psh, I've been ready. I was waiting for you, prettyboy. How many hours did you spend in the bathroom this time?"

Roman made a sound that their mutual friend (and Roman's crush) Janus dubbed an 'offended Princey noise' as they walked out of their house. "First of all, low blow. You can't just use that nickname-"

Remus snorted. "Of course I can. Just not in front of Janny.” Janus had made up the nickname years ago, and Remus constantly teased Roman with it. (Honestly, Remus was halfway tempted to lock the two of them in a closet and leave them there until they either made out or beat each other up)

Roman continued as they approached the school. “Secondly, I’ll have you know that every moment I spend in that bathroom is absolutely vital to my daily routine.”

Remus smirked. “Yeah? Even the 20 minutes you spend just belting out romantic Disney songs to your reflection?”

Roman blushed but didn’t back down. “Yes.”

“Hmm, a blushing Roman. The perfect way to start my morning.” Janus suddenly slinked up behind them, throwing his arm up over Roman’s shoulder.

Roman groaned, blushing harder. “I can never tell when you’re being sarcastic and when you’re being genuine.”

Janus chuckled softly. “If you knew, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun to do.”

The bell rang and Remus groaned. “Gotta go. Catch ya later.” He quickly made his way to his first class, silently glad to be rid of the two hopeless lovebirds. He got to his class with 5 minutes to spare and was going to play on his phone and ignore everyone like he usually did when he saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye.

On one of the student’s desk was an ornate wooden box, filled to the brim with hand-crafted jewelry. The student in question, Jacob Smith, was currently counting a large stack of cash as he waited for the bell to ring. Remus got up to look at the jewelry and he smirked. “Hey, Prince. I’m selling my sister’s hand-made jewelry. Like anything you see?”

Remus glanced down at the jewelry. There were dozens of accessories in a ton of different colors, but there were a few that caught Remus’ eye. There was a matching set of 2 bracelets, a ring, a chain necklace, a choker, and a pair of earrings. They were all a metallic dark green with black and dark purple accents. Remus looked at the prices Jacob had given the jewelry and winced. They were all super expensive, but they were also high quality and hand-crafted, so Remus wasn’t going to complain.

Jacob smirked as Remus paid for the jewelry, about to say something when the bell ringed. Remus sighed and put the jewelry away, grabbing his notebook to take notes. Even though Remus was the school’s resident ‘bad boy,’ he still liked to keep his grades up. Remus hated that he was always stereotyped as lazy and dumb. Yes, he regularly punched homophobes and transphobes. Yes, he tended to struggle in English because metaphors were bullshit. But that wasn’t his fault! There were only a handful of people that Remus wouldn’t immediately punch their teeth in for calling him dumb, and only three of them went to this school. Of course, there was Roman and Janus, but there was another person who was allowed to insult Remus, even if he never did.

Eventually, lunchtime rolled around, and Remus ignored his usual routine of vandalizing homophobic lockers to instead go put on his jewelry in the bathroom. He spent the whole 15 minutes making sure that the jewelry looked perfect and his make up was flawless. He had someone to impress, after all.

A few more hours passed and Remus was finally in his last class of the day, impatiently waiting to see his crush walk through the door. Virgil Storm, resident emo and snarky introvert. He and Remus were forced to work on an English paper together last year, and now he liked to sit next to Remus during class. Remus knew this was only so they could work together on creative writing assignments, but a part of Remus dreamed that Virgil sat next to Remus because liked Remus, not just tolerated him.

When Virgil finally walked through the door, seconds before the bell was supposed to ring, Remus barely resisted the urge to grin and wave frantically like an overexcited puppy. Instead, he gave his meat flirtatious smirk, angling his body to show off as much of his new jewelry as possible. Instead of smiling (or blushing like Remus fantasized), Virgil froze in place. He gave Remus a look that made his heart sink. He looked… betrayed? That didn’t make sense. But before Remus could get up and ask what was wrong, the bell rang and Virgil took a seat in the front of the classroom, away from Remus.

Now, most people would be able to see that Virgil was upset before he even walked into the room. They would realize that Virgil isn’t having a good day, and would give him some space until he was ready to talk to them.

Remus is not most people.

He spent the entire class staring at Virgil, several pencils snapping as he pretended to take notes. Virgil slouched forward, ignoring Remus’s gaze burning holes in his hoodie. When the class ended, Virgil practically ran out the door. Remus growled and stuffed his things into his bag, shooting a quick text to Roman.

Re- (2:21 PM) Staying after, go on without me

He turned off his phone, not waiting for a response as he stalked out the door. He knew that Virgil didn’t take the bus, and Remus had a feeling that the emo hadn’t left the school yet. He probably didn’t go to his locker, and he hated all of the teachers, which left-

Remus slammed the bathroom door open, Virgil jumping from the sudden sound. He was hovering over the sink, his face red and puffy from crying. His shock quickly morphed into anger as he glared at Remus. “What do you want? Here to rub it all in my face?”

Remus growled, ready to rip his own hair out. Or Virgil’s. He hadn’t decided yet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Virgil barked out a laugh, and Remus ignored how beautiful Virgil looked, even when angry. “Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! I thought you were my friend!”

A part of Remus’ heart broke at his crush calling him just a ‘friend,’ but the rest of his heart shattered as he processed what the emo said. “Of fucking course I’m your friend!”

Virgil glared at Remus, pointing at him accusingly. “Then why the hell are you wearing those?!”

Remus looked down at his jewelry, which he had bought and put on just to impress Virgil. They had to be what he was talking about, since it was the only significant change to Remus’s normal outfit. He actually liked this jewelry a whole lot. And now his asshole crush was getting pissy about it. “What’s wrong with me wearing jewelry, huh? You got a fucking problem with it?”

Virgil growled, slamming his fist onto the countertop. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it, dumbass! I’m not stupid, I know where you got those!”

Remus huffed. “You got something against Jacob? I know the guy’s an asshole, but are you seriously gonna hate me for buying his little sister’s jewelry?”

Virgil froze, his hands gripping the bathroom counter like a death grip. “Little sister? So you didn’t know?”

Remus was confused, but he was still more irritated than anything. “Didn’t know what? What the fuck are you talking about?!”

Virgil stayed quiet for a moment before he started screaming. “THAT SON OF A BITCH!” He slammed his fists back on the counter, fresh tears rolling down his face.

Remus rushed forward, pinning Virgil’s wrists down so he couldn’t hurt himself. No matter how pissed he was, Remus couldn’t see his crush get hurt. “What the fuck is going on, Virgil?”

Virgil froze again, looking away. “It’s none of your business. Just leave me alone.”

Remus growled, adding pressure to Virgil’s wrists, ignoring the way he winced. “Not this time, emo. You can’t just accuse me and say we aren’t friends, then tell me to fuck off when I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” He stepped closer, not giving him any room to squirm away. “So we’re not going anywhere until you’ve told me what’s going on.” Virgil looked away, and Remus growled. “You said that we’re friends, right? Then fucking treat me like one.”

There were a few moments of silence between them before Virgil sighed looking away, mumbling. “My name’s on ‘em.”

Remus’s grip loosened, confused. “Huh?”

Virgil groaned, pulling himself out of Remus’ hold and grabbing him by the wrist, removing his bracelet with practiced ease. He showed Remus the inside of the bracelet, where V.S. was stitched into the fabric. “Jacob’s little sister’s name is Sally. That’s my name. I sewed and etched it into every product.”

Remus stared for a minute until it hit him. “Did you make these?”

Virgil blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I sell them online. They take forever to make but it’s fun and I make a good amount of money off of it.” He huffed. “I shouldn’t of brought them to school. Yesterday Jacob had found me and was be-” he coughed “was talking to me, and he found them in my backpack. Said he would sell them for me, and in exchange I wouldn’t leave with a broken nose. All of the popular kids knew that I made them, because they bought a ton and flashed it off in front of me in the hallways.” He sniffled and wiped his tears away with his hoodie sleeve. “I… I thought you knew too. I thought you were like them.”

Remus stared for a few minutes before getting out his wallet. “How much do you normally charge for these?”

Virgil sputtered. “W-what? You don’t-”

Remus growled. “I know I don’t have to. Now. How. Much. Do. You. Charge?”

Virgil rambled off the price and Remus frowned. That wasn’t even half of what Jacob had charged for them. Still, he paid the price that Virgil listed before opening a backpack and grabbing a notebook and pen. “Do you know everything that he took? And how much you usually charge for them?” Virgil nodded softly, still a little mystified. “Can you write them down? Or if you have a picture it would be helpful.”

Virgil carefully wrote them all down, giving descriptions of each piece of jewelry and their worth. Remus nearly growled when he read the list. Virgil was missing almost $200 worth of jewelry, and based on Jacob’s prices, the asshole was going to make at least a $500 profit from all of this.

Remus took back his notebook and put it away, giving his crush one last look. “I promise I didn’t know about any of this, but now I’m going to fix it. Here,” he grabbed Virgil’s wrist and scribbled something on the back of his hand “here’s my number. If those assholes try something like this again, give me a call and I’ll go punch their teeth in.”

Virgil looked away. “You don’t have to…”

Remus chuckled. “Punch their teeth in? It’s kind of my signature move by this point. It would be a shame if I didn’t.”

The emo blushed, finding his shoelaces to be more interesting than looking Remus in the eye. “You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

Remus shook his head. “You earned my niceness, fair and square. You’re my friend, Emo. Do you know how many people get to call me that and mean it?” He snorted. “Do you know how many people get to call me a dumbass without immediately getting their bones broken? It’s a very short list.” He sauntered out of the bathroom, stopping as he reached the door. “You mean a lot to me V. And I’m gonna make these assholes pay.” He didn’t look to see Virgil’s reaction as he walked away, one goal in mind: make Jacob Smith’s life a living hell.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Virgil went to class the next day, still in a slight state of shock. He felt numb all over, like he’d been drenched in ice water and was still dealing with the aftershocks. A lot had happened in the past 2 days, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down for a nap and not wake up until it all blew over.

Yesterday was awful. Usually Jacob just beat him up and went along his merry way, but instead he decided to ruin one of the few things that made Virgil happy. Jewelry making had been his passion for years, and seeing dozens of bullies showing him their new jewelry with a vindictive smirk, and knowing they were his but he wasn’t making a single penny, hurt him more than any punch or kick ever could.

But what hurt was seeing his only friend (and crush) sitting in the back of the room, showing off the jewelry that Virgil had specifically made with him in mind. Remus had been smirking, just like the bullies had as they flaunted off their jewelry, and Virgil had felt his heart break into a million pieces.

But that was yesterday. Today was a new day, and Virgil was wanting to crawl into a whole and never come out. Everyone would still be buying and showing off Virgil’s jewelry, some knowing where it came from, others having no idea. Jacob would probably come to beat Virgil up when he ran out of jewelry to sell, demanding more products that Virgil refused to make. He wasn’t going to spend all of his time on these products just to put money in Jacob’s pockets. And to top it all off, his friendship with Remus was probably ruined. Judging by how he acted yesterday, Remus would probably get upset if Virgil tried to distance himself again. But he was dreading the day where Remus would realize that Virgil wasn’t worth a decent English grade and tell him to fuck off.

Virgil was late to school today, so he didn’t actually realize that something was amiss until around lunch. No one had come up to Virgil to show off their jewelry, and a lot of students were staring at the emo as he walked by. When he took a closer look, he realized that the kids who had shown off their jewelry to him yesterday weren’t wearing them anymore, and some of them were sporting some nasty bruises. The ones who were wearing them were constantly staring at Virgil and… smiling? That was weird. But as Virgil sat down to eat his food another, more important question arose.

Where’s Jacob? And Remus?

His questions were answered in English class, where he overheard two students chatting as Virgil stepped in. Apparently Jacob and Remus had gotten into a fight and were now suspended. Virgil sat back in his normal spot, ignoring how the room went quiet as the ice water feeling returned with a vengeance. Remus got into a fight? Over him? That didn’t make any sense. Just the fact that Remus apologized and paid Virgil his debt for the jewelry was more than Virgil deserved. But the fact that Remus got into a fight with Jacob, because Jacob stole from Virgil, made something in his chest stutter. It made his heart race and his breath stop for a minute. Keep it cool Virgil, it’s not like someone as cool as Remus would ACTUALLY like you. His fight probably had nothing to do with me.

“Um, Virgil?” Virgil looked up at the random student next to him. Bethany, his brain half-heartedly supplied, still in a half state of shock. She was fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist, and it took Virgil a moment to realize they were his bracelets. “I-uh… I wanted to say sorry for what happened. Jacob told us he had brought those bracelets from home. We had no idea they were yours.” She pulled out her wallet. “Can I repay you for it? Or maybe buy more to make up for it?”

Virgil shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. You already had to pay a stupidly high amount to Jacob, you shouldn’t have to waste more on me. I’ll be behind for a while on money, but I’ll get back up there eventually.” He blushed. “But if you want to buy more…” He scribbled down a url on his notebook paper and handed it to Bethany. “I have a website where you can customize your jewelry. It’ll take around a month or two depending on what it is, but I’ll have it done and shipped to your address as soon as it’s done.”

She took the paper and smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much! See you later Virgil!” She went back to her gaggle of friends, showing them the website url as they took pictures and typed it into their phones. Virgil smiled softly, glad to have at least a few potential customers after this.

When class was over, Virgil quickly grabbed his stuff from his locker and walked out the door. He was making his usual journey across the football field and towards the neighborhood when a familiar figure waved in the distance. Remus was underneath one of the bleachers, a familiar box in one hand and his backpack on the ground. Virgil ran over and hissed. “What are you doing here? You’re suspended right now! If they catch you on school grounds you’ll be expelled!”

Remus chuckled. “As if that would stop me from visiting my favorite emo.” Virgil flushed and looked at the wooden box. Remus suddenly perked up as he held out the box. “I got you your stuff back!” He sounded like an overexcited puppy and Virgil bit back a giggle, instead taking the box. He frowned when his hand came back wet.

“Uh, Remus?” He looked at his hand and cringed.

Remus tilted his head to the side, still resembling a puppy as he excitedly spoke. “Yeah?”

Virgil showed Remus the box. “This box is wet.”

“Yeah?”

“...With blood.”

“Yeah?”

“...Is it your blood?”

“I don’t think so!”

Virgil nodded, wiping his hand on his black skinny jeans. “Okay… thank you. It-” he looked away, blushing. “It means a lot to me.” He opened the box, looking at the contents. Around a third of the original jewelry was in the box, most of it he vaguely remembered the bullies wearing yesterday.

Remus smiled brightly, bouncing slightly as he grabbed his backpack. “That’s not even the best part! Look what I found while beating that asshole up!” Virgil hesitated before opening the bag, the not-so-nice part of him imagining Jacob himself shoved into the bag. Instead, the bag was filled to the brim with cash. Virgil stared at the money in shock while Remus explained. “That’s everything that he earned for selling your jewelry. He charged for a lot more than you did, but now you’ve made all of your money back and then some!”

Virgil tried to count the money at a glance, but his head started to spin after a minute. “Remus. How much money is in here?”

He giggled. “Almost $600. Jacob got a lot of money selling your stuff. He also had an extra 50 bucks that I added to the pot as compensation.”

Virgil nearly dropped the backpack in shock. He’d never had that much money before. This is it. I can actually start a business with this money. I can throw it into my bank account and actually have a chance at making jewelry after high school. At least as a side-job. He looked up at his crush, who was still bouncing slightly as he waited for praise. He did this for me. Remus gave me this chance. He did this because he cares. No one’s ever cared about me this much before.

Virgil didn’t realize what he was going to say until it was already out of his mouth. “Do you like coffee? With me?” He realized how jumbled his words were and he blushed. “I mean, would you like to go get some coffee with me? I know a good caffe a few blocks away. I know we aren’t too close, but maybe we could get to know each other better?”

Remus froze for a few seconds before he chuckled. “I don’t actually like coffee.” Virgil almost felt his heart drop, but his crush smirked at him. “But I know I’ll enjoy anything with you.” Virgil squeaked with a blush, and Remus chuckled. “Let’s go! We’ll get you some coffee, and we can talk about the inspiration behind your jewelry. Especially these.” He held out his wrist, showing off the dark green bracelet, a small purple heart sewn on the inside. Virgil blushed again. They both knew what inspired it. They both knew that Remus had inspired it. Or rather, Virgil’s feelings towards Remus. And Remus seemed okay with it, judging by his flirtatious chuckle and teasing grin.

Virgil eventually grabbed the resident bad boy’s hand, dragging him out from under the bleachers and towards the nearest cafe. He never thought he’d have a chance, but Remus gave it to him. And there was no way in hell that Virgil wasn’t going to take it.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @drarrymalecsolangelo @count-woe-laf

[trillian-anders]

four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 16k

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

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

2018

What a fucking asshole. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want triple.” 

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

She cried. 

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

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

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

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

But it was fine. 

It didn’t really matter. 

You just wanted to go home. 

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

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

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

It doesn’t matter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ransom-”

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

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

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

75

80

85

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

90

95

100

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

105

110

115

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

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

“Take me home.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me my keys.” 

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

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

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

“Give me-”

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

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

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

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

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

2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck he was going to kill you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again. 

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

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

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got him regular Trojans. 

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

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parents-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More.

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

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

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

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed. 

“I’m no better off than you now.” 

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

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

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

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

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck. 

“No Ransom, you did.” 

2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom was disgusting. 

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

He was doing this shit on purpose. 

And you hated him for it. 

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

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

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

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

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

Is she gone yet? 

Fucking prick. 

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

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

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

Crime of Passion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.” 

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

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

Ransom was as good as he was, better even. 

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

This was promising. 

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

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

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

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

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

Eager replies. 

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

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

...and yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every. Night. 

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was nice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you going to-”

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

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

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

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

“I know.” He swallowed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t ask you to.”

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

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

Fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never gets old. 

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

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

It was intense. His love for you.

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

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

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

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

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

He’d bought you a house. 

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God he is beautiful. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

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

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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