#and i fucking hate how i feel my chances for a scholarship is so low so im just panic applying

[vanishintoyou]

5mb file size limit is ridiculous

[mqverick]

scummy man || ✮⋆˙ .

“Cause he’s a scumbag, don’t you know?

I said he’s a scumbag, don’t you know?”

────────── ★ ───────────

The moment Daniel Kaffee walked into your office with his stupid apple and his stupid, childish ‘hi’, you knew you were fucked from top to bottom. Of course, they hadn’t taken you seriously when you petitioned Division to have counsel assigned. They brought you the first idiot they came across.

You’d written a seventeen page memo to Bronsky outlining the situation, you’d pleaded your case for a half hour in his living room on a Sunday afternoon, and Division assigned a Lt. Junior Grade? They had too be kidding (or hate you).

You’d managed to scare him, at least, and that you were proud of. He seemed like the type, who was particularly full of himself, which was proven as quite the right accusation, after a few minutes of speaking with him. He was just a bunch of royal bullshit, you’d decided — fucking wanted him off the case, even though he hadn’t even started yet.

He was never going to take it seriously, judging on how loose and cool he acted. For crying out loud, Dawson and Downey were at his sake, while Daniel could not care less about them, opting to practice baseball instead, because he claimed he had a critical game coming. Was that guy serious?

“Lieutenant, would you feel very insulted if I recommended to your supervisor that he assign different counsel?” you threatened, face burning as you struggled to contain your anger at his complete indifference to the situation.

“Why would you do that?”

He had the nerve to ask. “You’re not fit to handle the defense. One second more with you and the marines will have sealed their poor fate.”

Daniel nodded, unimpressed with your tone.

“You don’t even know me. Ordinarily, it takes someone hours to discover I’m not fit to handle a defense. You’ve known me for less than ten minutes.” He walked away from you, as if your threat was a joke to him, like he didn’t believe you.

You stupidly stared at him, blood boiling as you wondered how impossibly scummy one could be.

“I do know you. Daniel Allistair Kaffee, born June 8th, 1964 at Boston Mercy Hospital. Your father's Lionel Kaffee, former Navy Judge Advocate and Attorney General, of the United States, died 1985. You went to Harvard Law on a Navy scholarship, probably because that’s what your father wanted you to do, and now you’re just treading water for the three years you’ve gotta serve in the JAG Corps, just kinda laying low til you can get out and get a real job. And if that’s the situation, that’s fine, I won’t tell anyone. But my feeling is that if this case is handled in the same fast-food, slick-ass, Persian Bazaar manner with which you seem to handle everything else, something’s gonna get missed. And I’d be damned if I allowed Dawson and Downey to spend any more time in prison than absolutely necessary, because their attorney had pre-determined the path of least resistance,” your monologue prevented you from taking a breath, confidently crossing your arms like you’d just won an argument, as Daniel took a quick sip from his Yoo-Hoo, staring intently at you. The sun was hitting his face and if you allowed it to yourself, you could’ve observed how stunningly green his eyes were.

“Wow,” he admired, very taken aback. “I’m sexually aroused, Commander. I may be picking the wrong time to ask you this, but are you seeing anyone right now? ‘Cause I think you and I would be perfect together. It’s clear that you respect me and that’s the foundation for any solid—”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You let out an angry exhale and grabbed him by the collar of his thin baseball shirt, pulling him towards you. He gasped in surprise, breath caught in his throat as you stabbed your finger into his chest as a warning.

“Listen there, Kaffee, I will have you removed from the case, so don’t go around being cute and unbothered. Mark my words, you just waisted your last chance with me.”

And with that, you threw him back to the bleachers, storming away in annoyance and over the top frustration. Never had another human being ever crawled up under your nerves so quickly, it had to be an astonishing world record.

When you walked into your office the next day just to find Daniel sitting on your chair already, you neared the dreadful experience of going into cardiac arrest. You silently wondered how he’d managed to sneak in, but decided to ignore him.

“You didn’t do it.”

His words were softly spoken, causing you to look at him, undoubtedly baffled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You didn’t do it,” he repeated with more emphasis, as if that would help you understand what he was referring to. “I thought you really wanted me out of the case, so I went to check, see if you talked to my supervisor. You didn’t.”

Oh, so he was talking about that. You played it off as something frankly unimportant, not even bothering to reply anything to him. If you turned your back around just for one second, you could’ve seen exactly how distressed he was.

Daniel got up from your chair, walking up behind you as he towered over you, hands unexpectedly nervous, seeing as they couldn’t stay still for a full minute on the waistline of his uniform trousers. You chuckled silently to yourself, nose scrunching in pride as you turned your back, looking dead into his eyes, your own ones fixed on the way his Adam’s apple moved in his neck as he gulped.

“Good job, Lieutenant. I see you took my words seriously for once. Need to keep into mind that you shit your pants way too easily, threats have you following every order you’ve been given.”

Daniel’s eyes were blown with disbelief of your manners, brows raised in offense. There was no doubt that you were prepared to make his life a living hell, had every intention to cause this case to be his first and last one, because the way it was going, he’d either rip apart his diploma or plain out kill himself. And who had the delightful opportunity to hear Daniel complain day and night? None other than Sam.

“She hates me, I don’t even know why,” he cried while pacing back and forth in his small living room, bat placed over his shoulders as he rested his hands on it, mind far away from the case. Sam sighed, sinking back into the couch. “She barely even knows me! I always do stuff wrong for her, she’s never satisfied. Little miss perfect,” he continued without a break, swinging the bat now as he ignored the board that stood in the middle of the place. Sam felt nauseous, having baring his unstoppable yapping for what felt like decades, even though it’d only been less than ten minutes.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his unlimited boredom and he got up to see who it was, ignoring the way Daniel kept going on and on. He looked over the eye on the door, almost letting out an audible groan at the fact that it was you who had knocked, meaning that your appearance would drive his friend even crazier.

“Come in,” he whispered lowly to you as he unlocked the door and let you in. You shrugged your jacket off your shoulders, noticing that Daniel hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that someone else had gotten into his house. “Damn, I’ve never seen him like this before. Normally he loses interest in a girl after a date or two…” he commented with a smirk, but you ignored him.

“You know, I wish she could’ve taken me out of the case, so that I wouldn’t have to see her face again,” Daniel admitted frustratedly, stopping dead in his tracks momentarily as he laid his eyes on you. Suddenly, hitting his head as hard as possible with his bat didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. Oh, he was fucked to the core.

A smug, proud smile spread across your lips.

“Talking about me, Lieutenant Kaffee?” you rhetorically asked, crossing your arms and puffing your chest out arrogantly as you strode confidently across the room to get to him.

Daniel pretended to turn a deaf ear to your question, head strictly observing the case’s board as he gripped on the hand of his baseball bat. He wished the earth would open up and swallow him out of existence, his brain bleeding at the pure satisfaction he’d so universally given you by admitting the very phrase that you’d been accusing him of; dropping the case, because he couldn’t take the seriousness of it. And oh, well, because he couldn’t bare another second with you breathing down his neck and constantly criticizing him without even caring enough to get to know him — not as Daniel Kaffee, but Marine Lieutenant Kaffee. You had no idea of his potential, yet you still found it in you to look down at him, underestimate and humiliate him.

Sam incredulously just existed there, not taking any stance against either one of you. He’d been friends with Daniel since ages, which cast him to be very close to his way of thinking, and he knew for an undeniable fact that his friend was building up a brick wall of denial, hatred and irony just because he wouldn’t want to face the reality of the situation that pained his mind.

Daniel was captivated by you, Sam claimed.

He silently watched the way his eyes never left your face the entire time you spent in the small apartment, while working on the case, the split second that Daniel subconsciously let his jaw slightly hang open when you determinedly explained every detail of how to teach the marines how to act in the courtroom. Of course, Daniel was going through a matter of confusion.

You stood an obstacle to his limitless confidence and that wasn’t something he particularly wanted to experience every passing day, thus why he’d convinced himself that he hated you. But that was simply not true, at least according to Sam’s observations, which always proved to be right.

“I hate her,” he’d say all the time, but even the sound of his voice gave away the fact that he didn’t. How could he, anyway? Despite the hard time you were giving him, you actually worked by his side, boosting him even more. Come on — he was going to be in a courtroom — he’d never been in one before. All because of how stubborn you were with this case. Daniel loved it.

“Nobody likes her very much,” he’d said in Cuba, shouting his statement loudly enough for all the people in the convertible to hear despite the dizzying noise of shots and fighter planes. You’d rolled your eyes, opting not to give him the chance to stupidly smirk at himself for managing to piss you off (that was exactly his only goal).

───

Predictably enough, Daniel was laying down on his couch as a baseball game faintly played in the background, preventing him from concentrating. Truth be told, his mind was blank. He’d prepared himself mentally for what was coming; they’d lose the trial, make complete fools of themselves in front of an entire courtroom. His father was shaking his head disappointedly at him, Daniel knew it. He fiddled with his bat, glancing at the remnants of the two days old pizza he’d heated up in the microwave fifteen minutes ago, lazily thrown in a piece of kitchen paper, next to a half empty bottle of Yoo-hoo. His white uniform from earlier was thrown in a pile in a corner, like a piece of garbage he was itching to get out of his house.

A sudden buzz from his bell was heard, throwing him off as he jumped a little, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he went to the door, wondering who it could be at that time, since he wasn’t even expecting anyone. Or so he thought. The moment he opened the door, you stormed inside without even waiting for him to invite you in. Daniel stood speechless for one second, then shrugged it off, simply because it was you, and your ignorance of him was unquestionable. He looked shit, he realised; dressed in a dark gray T-shirt that had small oil stains on it because of the pizza, an abstract, unbuttoned red, brown and green colored shirt thrown over it.

“I’ve really missed you. It’s been almost three hours since I last saw—” he began sarcastically, but you cut him off abruptly, while placing a stack of papers onto the living room table.

“I can already tell that you forgot we had to meet up to discuss about the case by the way you’ve shamelessly displayed your gross dinner all over the files we need to present tomorrow. Good job, like always, Kaffee.”

Daniel didn’t bother to huff or give out any reaction, at that point, he knew that you were aware of the fact that you pushed his buttons just by breathing the same direction as him. He let his bat against the arm of the couch, taking a folder into his hands and pretending to examine it.

“Is Sam not coming?” he asked without raising his eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know, he’s your buddy. Aren’t you supposed to know better than me?”

You judged his choice of childish drink with a long, disgusting glare, then buried your face into the papers as well. Dawson and Downey relied upon the three of you deeply and if proving them not guilty meant you had to spend your Friday evening in Daniel Kaffee’s apartment, then so be it. It was a lot quieter than usual and the unfamiliar emptiness had you wondering. The baseball game was still on, distracting you from thinking clearly. “I think Kendrick ordered the Code Red. So do you,” you mumbled out of the blue, catching his attention in a second.

“You didn’t just come here to bother me?”

“You’re the worst lawyer I’ve ever met,” you spoke rudely, noticing Daniel’s face drop. “Why don’t you get the poor guys a new attorney, huh? You stand no chance anyway, you’re too afraid.”

“You still haven’t taken the time to get to know me, so I don’t think that you have any rights to go around telling me what to do, Commander,” the boldness of his tone matched yours as he sat on the couch, still denying the urge to look up at you, gauge your reaction to his words. He liked to ignore you, it gave him the impression that he had some sort of power over you that drove you as far mad as you did to him. Ignorance was kind.

“Think I’m going to change my mind about you the moment I hear your childhood sob story? They can all say you’re the best damn lawyer it’s ever been their pleasure to have as an attorney, and I still wouldn’t be convinced. But go on, though, I’ll humor you for tonight. Were daddy’s expectations really that high that they scare you off to do your job correctly?”

He pursed his lips, a slight furrow between his brows again as he stared pointedly at you. His heart crashed every time you went down the family path, not fully understanding how you’d figured him out so quickly and with less effort than even Jack put into his conversations with him. “Okay, then, if you really believe all that, get me replaced, I won’t stop you. Or did you already try that with no luck? Please, spare me the psycho-babble father bullshit, though, it’s your only argument and it’s getting tiring.”

“At least I have an argument.”

“Fucking congratulations! That’s just splendid!”

“Another lawyer won’t be good enough!” you accidentally admitted on your temper. Your eyes widened at the echo in the dead silence, that grew in the apartment, after what you’d just blurted out. Daniel’s eyes softened, filled with pure bewilderment, jaw going slack. His upper front teeth were visible as he stared at you stupidly enough to have your cheeks burning the brightest shade of red. You tried to find an excuse to reason yourself, but nothing could cover up the royal bullocks you’d thrown all over yourself.

He’d never let you live that moment down.

“You frighten me. I’m involved in a situation now, in which the stakes couldn’t be higher. I’m not going to take time out to give tutorials in criminal procedure to an internal affairs schoolgirl who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing and still has the nerve to threaten my lead.”

“I just melt when you sugar-talk me, Danny.”Daniel felt a sudden rush of heat form in the back of his neck, traveling all the way up to his face at the sound of his nickname falling out of your lips. It wasn’t even a big deal — everyone called him Danny, yet the way it sounded in his ears when you uttered it out, it felt as though someone had turned up the dial on his internal embarrassment thermostat to maximum, and now he was sure he was ready to burst at any moment. The awkwardness of the moment had both of you completely mute, blankly finding random things in his house to interestingly stare at, as if they were suddenly very important. “Anyway, I think you know exactly how to win. They need you.”

A dumbstruck smile lightened up his face.

“You really think so?”

“Do you have something to drink?” you dodged the question, knowing that you’d revealed too much of your genuine feelings about him. Of course you admired him, how could you not?

“Yeah — Yeah! Something to drink, yes, just a second, let me see what’s in the fridge,” he exclaimed, inexplicably jumpy as he practically flew to the fridge. The corners of your lips turned upwards, enjoying the way he struggled to roam through the drinks and food, some things falling over in his attempt to search in the back. When he finally approached you, he was proudly holding a small bottle with a yellow Yoo-hoo tag on it.

You sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s chocolate milk, you’ll love it.”

What the hell, you thought, taking the drink from him as he handed it over to you with a warm smile. Your face was filled with disgust, almost hollering at the smell. When you let a few drops touch your lips, you coughed dramatically and shook your head in denial of what you’d just drank, placing the bottle back on the table.

“That’s the most foul thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Wait until you try my cooking. I usually save that card until the fourth or fifth date, though,” Daniel smirked, eyes gleaming under the bright yellow light of his living room. He looks so dumb, how is this man a navy lawyer? you questioned yourself.

“Explains why you’re single, then.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Is it Jack Ross? ‘Cause I think he likes you back, you should totally make a move,” you teased him.

“Maybe said someone is annoying me as we talk.”

“Come on, Danny, can’t take a joke?”

He didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and twirled his bat on the ground, while pacing around the coffee table. “Can I ask you something personal?” he asked out of the blue, causing a pit of anxiety to form into your stomach.

“I suppose you’ll ask even if I refuse.”

“Look at you, you’re finally getting to know me.”

“Shoot, Kaffee.”

“What made you become a lawyer for the Navy?”

Your expression changed, now fully confused. You wondered how he’d possibly come up with that question all of sudden — was he doing some sort of research on you, get you exposed and out of his lead case so that you wouldn’t annoy him anymore with your constant complaining? Or was it more just Daniel being… well, Daniel and randomly coming up with the most out of context questions and things to discuss about?

“They wouldn’t let me fly the planes,” you simply gave and he tsk’ed with a dramatic head shake.

“Pegged you for the one that never gave up. You are becoming less of a role model on Junior Lieutenant Kaffee now, Commander. You’re like seven of the strangest women I’ve ever met.”

“That’s rich of you to say,” you added a little too quickly and loudly for your liking, hating how you were always so eager to defend yourself in situations that didn’t ask for it. “I’m the girl guys like you hated in sixth grade.”

Daniel’s eyes softened as he hesitantly took a seat next to you. “You’re wrong,” he muttered through his lips, looking down at his entwined fingers before exhaling exhaustively. “You’re the girl guys like me pulled the pigtails of at minor interactions just because they were too afraid of letting her know how they really felt about her.”

A pause. Silence built up in the room as Daniel kept looking down on his lap, eyes closed as if he was hoping for something, as if he was scared that the moment he’d open them, you’d be gone, because he’d screwed everything up again. But you were still there when he eventually decided to look over at you, staring blankly at him with no emotion whatsoever. He despised the fact that he couldn’t read you, hated the thought of not knowing exactly what went through your mind during that moment; it caused him too much anxiety, plus, with his little experience with girls, he’d never lived anything similar. They were all so chattery and urgent to fuck him that they didn’t hold anything back… and then, there was you.

You, who Daniel didn’t know how to feel about.

And suddenly, he couldn’t stand — bare — the fact that you’d been staring at him with so much to say, all that visible through your glassy eyes, and it was killing him, causing his stomach to flip, because he was ridiculously unaware about whether he did the right thing to reveal so much with that metaphor, or if he’d just ruined every aspect of professionalism between you.

“Kaffee?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, his voice worn out, shaky as if he was about to break down right there in front of you. Your lack of response made his heart feel tight. “I’m not going to reassign Dawson and Downey to another lawyer, by the way. Neither will you ever be able to replace me, because I’m going to stick here.”

You instantly warmed up. For the first time, his confidence gave you that slight ounce of reassurance that you needed to get, put the colour back in your eyes as you grinned proudly at him, not caring about the so though Commander title you’d been given. “What made you change your mind?”

“Not you,” he replied, reciprocating the calmness and brightness of your face. “Just… don’t wear that perfume, it wrecks my concentration.”

“Really?” you asked in awe. Daniel just smiled. You noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he inhaled the courage to say something, then…

“This might be the wrong time to ask this, but would you really hate the idea of me taking y—”

“I am so sorry,” Sam interrupted, barging into Daniel’s apartment while panting, struggling to take his coat off as he put a hand over his chest. “I had to take care of my daughter, she got sick and my wife wasn’t home, I — Oh, I walked into something there, didn’t I?”

You think? Daniel mutely thought of saying to his friend, so mad inside as he glared at him with burning passion to slam the door shut into his face and returning to the conversation he was having with you less than twenty seconds ago.

“I need to go, anyway, I promised the Marines that I would visit them and help them prepare for the court. I’ll see you tomorrow, Danny. Bye, Sam,” you dismissed them, getting up from the couch and waving goodbye to the two of them as you walked outside with a small smile.

“No wait!” Daniel called, but it was already too late. “What the fuck, Sam?! You know something called knocking on the fucking door?”

Sam didn’t reply, simply because he was too busy explaining the story of why he thought he wouldn’t make it to the case preparation as he cleaned Daniel’s living room. He realised that his friend was paying no attention to him at all, only staring at the almost full Yoo-hoo bottle you’d left on the table from earlier, and that was all Sam needed to know exactly why he was being ignored. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Daniel never replied.

───

“Hi!” he greeted you with the following day, head peaking in your office through the half closed door. He looked dumb, his oversized blue varsity jacket covering most of his palms as he held onto the door with a wide grin, eyes sparkling. You couldn’t understand his excitement.

“Hey,” the reply was dry and held back.

“I think we might actually have just enough evidence to prove Dawson and Downey innocent, all thanks to you,” he claimed happily, allowing himself fully into your office. You gave him a weird look but didn’t question anything, instead ignored him as you organized the discarded papers on your desk into folders. Daniel’s face dropped at your lack of enthusiasm for him, worry written all over his face as he quickly began fiddling again.

“That’s quite literally my job, Daniel.”

“Did I do something to offend you?” His heart was racing now, mind stuck in the loop of any words that he could’ve said to cause your so indifferent reaction. “You’re giving me the cold shoulder. I thought we moved past that.”

“It was just one conversation about the case. It’s not like we’re expected to act like friends after not bickering for a total of five minutes.” Oh. Daniel’s stomach was tied into knots, he felt as though he’d been kicked in the crotch with the worst possible amount of strength. His face was paled, eyes growing blurry as he nodded at your statement, not finding himself strong enough to say anything back to you, and instead choosing to walk out with his last pieces of remaining dignity.

He thought you might had started liking him. Even a little, he didn’t care about the numbers.

Daniel got easily emotionally influenced, though, and his performance at the court was screwed. He wouldn’t communicate with either you or Sam, interrogating the men on the stand with such frustration that the jury sighed every five seconds. You pinched the bridge of your nose and tightened your fingers into fists, crumbling a paper in front of you as Sam touched your shoulder in a way of telling you to calm down.

But how could you? You were losing the case already and it hadn’t even been a day. What is he doing? you thought, relentlessly questioning his choice of tone and movements. You had no idea how you restrained yourself from slapping him against the wall when he returned to the desk, hands shoved into his pockets as he set his jaw.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you whispered yelled at him, but he didn’t even bother to look at you. When the judge dismissed everyone, Daniel walked away as if nothing had happened. Your head was going to explode, you decided, as you followed him, high heels slamming against the floor. You’d strangle the soul out of him, who would even defend you? Sam followed silently, keeping it low-key as he whispered at you not to create any more trouble. Daniel was seemingly upset and at the back of your mind, you wondered if the reason was the fact that you’d neglected him less than an hour ago back in your office. You felt like you should’ve kept that for yourself and tell him later eventually, when the trial would be over. “Do you have any idea why he’s like this?” you turned to the other attorney.

“Why do you think?” was the only thing he left you with, his words ringing in your head as your pace quickened unnecessarily faster than expected. Your breath was coming in short, eyes stinging as you repeatedly called for Daniel’s name in the corridors without any response.

He was proving you right by all this.

All your doubts and fears about him being unable to thoroughly handle the case were bursting one by one, getting huger and huger until you’d start breaking down in a corner on his behalf. You hated Daniel Kaffee more than any other person.

“Daniel, fucking stop!” you shouted and he finally stilled. Your immediate instinct was to take a break from the intense walking, hand over your chest as you tried to regain your balance.

“Maybe you should’ve asked for them to keep me out,” was all he said before disappearing outside. He was mad, but mostly exhausted with everything, especially overwhelmed by you. He was done trying; finished with the case, finished the way you treated him — how one day you loved him and the next day you pretended he wasn’t even there, as if he didn’t exist. And he was fine with that, you didn’t want him, he could live.

But you gave him false hope, or so he thought.

“Lieutenant!” he heard you yell again, your pants mixed with the sound of your heels against the hallway floor. He decided not to turn around, didn’t want to hear anything that you had to say. “Lieutenant Kaffee!” And suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, letting out a breath as he slammed his arms against his sides in defeat.

“What? What do you want from me?” he asked with frustration, voice raspy and shaky as he firmly loosened the black tie that felt like it was cutting the air out of his lungs, suit all messed up and wrinkly from fighting it off his body. He felt heavy, bothered, didn’t want to exist anymore.

“What do you mean what?” you asked with fragility, and it was the first time he’d ever heard you speak a sentence so softly and fearfully.

“I mean what is it?”

“I wanted to say that you did quite well in there, even though it was your first time and that—”

“Please — don’t even — don’t even start…” he cut you off mid-word, eyes squinting close as he tried not to look at you, afraid that just one glance at your face would be enough for him to bend.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re giving me mixed signals!” he abruptly bursted, making you jump a little. You’d never heard him raise his voice like that before, despite the fact that you’d been into countless bickers before with him. No, there was something different this time, something more into it.

“What?”

“You’re — you’re confusing the shit out of me! One day you fucking hate me and the other you get so nice with me that it almost makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have a chance with you… Start things over. And then you go back to day one — and no one has ever… I feel like one day I’m saving you from a burning building and the next I’m throwing you to the sharks, this — this is exactly how it is with us and it’s all your fucking fault! I’ve tried so hard with you, to make myself worthy, to catch your attention, to make you realise that I don’t think I’ve never admired a person more than you in my life before… and you keep throwing everything away! And I’m fine with that, but for the name of love, stop giving me hope that one day maybe you’ll actually start liking me.”

His monologue left you speechless, every word, every breath engraved and buzzing into your troubled brain as he walked away, this time without being stopped by anyone. Daniel felt like rubbish. On one hand, he felt relieved for letting the thoughts that had been eating him alive out, but on the other he felt even heavier. He knew he’d risked so much for speaking up, but the final straw had been put into his overfilled glass.

For a short moment, he considered turning back.

Perhaps you’d have something to say to him, but that was exactly what he dreaded. The more he’d spend looking at you, waiting for an answer or even the slightest reaction, the more he’d want to listen to what you’d have to say to him, and that was cautionary for his condition. Obviously, he’d fallen for you along the line. You’d screwed him over so deeply that he didn’t know where to grasp at to save himself from losing the grip he had by the end of the cliff. No, he decided, if you wanted him half as bad as he wanted you, you’d go after him, search for him, ask people, show that you cared, even if the amount wasn’t a great deal.

It was insignificant to him, if you cared about him as much as he did for you, he just wanted you to care. Even as a companion, or a respected fellow attorney. You didn’t follow him, though, and the sad part was that he wasn’t even surprised. Of course you had nothing to say to him, you’d made that very clear by wanting him so badly off the case that you were prepared to move the sky and earth just to earn the satisfaction of watching him be defeated. And if you so utterly needed him uninvolved, why did you give him motivation not to quit? Why did you keep pushing him?

Every ounce of feeling that he had for you was a big, unanswered why that tortured him inside.

Daniel wished he could erase from your memory what he’d just confessed. Make you forget all about it, have you look at him with the same hateful eye that you always did. Because now, you’d look at him with pity, scared of what to say to him (he’d revealed way too much and he was only just realising it) — gosh, he’d ruined it. He was so exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Ethic violations were involved in the mess, as well, because of course they would be. A sexual relationship with a fellow counsel in the middle of a trial? What was he thinking? As if you even wanted him breathing near you in the first place.

───

It had only been three, going to four hours, ever since Daniel got his heart crashed, made a fool of himself not only in the courtroom, but also in front of you. For him, it felt like days, even a full week. His only company was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s that he’d almost finished, stuffing it in his coat’s large pockets as he walked back home.

This was how you felt about him. You hated him.

And he’d have to make amends with that, but not without the encouragement of cheap alcohol pouring into his system. Thank god for Ross, who always bought him all the booze he needed.

You, on the other hand, had wasted all of your breath trying to look for Daniel everywhere. It’d almost been an hour and you were at the hands of Sam, trying to think about all the possible locations that his friend could be at. You searched for him at the O Club, down at the basketball court, even his own apartment, but he was nowhere to be found. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, caught in your throat as you walked back to his neighborhood, opting to give his apartment another try. It’d been more than thirty minutes ever since you first went, maybe he’d returned by now. Your hands were shaking as you brought a loosely balled up fist to the surface of the door, hesitantly knocking on it once, twice — then heard steps from inside.

“Go away.”

Your entire body eased momentarily at the sound of his voice. Good, he wasn’t dead. His tone was cold and distant, nevertheless, and you knew that he was in no mood for seeing or even speaking to you after how you’d behaved during his speech, or even earlier, during the trial. Your mouth went dry at the first attempt of speaking back to him.

“Danny—”

“You’ve got no place to call me that.”

Oh. So, you’d really broken him.

“Daniel,” you corrected yourself halfheartedly, your hands rubbing up and down against the sides of your outer thighs, “can you let me in?”

“No.”

Your face dropped. You weren’t used to Daniel being so… you didn’t even know how exactly to describe it. The relationship between the two of you hadn’t started on a brilliant basis, neither did it get any better throughout all the time, but even though he didn’t seem to like you very much, he’d always been open for you, in some sort of way that your mind still struggled to comprehend.

“Daniel, please,” you begged, stepping back, surprised when his door creaked open just an inch to reveal his heavy lidded, blurry eyes.

“Do you have anything to say to me about the case? Otherwise, get moving, Commander.”

“Did you… Are you drunk?” you found yourself asking worriedly, ignoring his previous question.

“Why do you care, huh? Last time I checked, you didn’t give two shits about me!” he yelled, slamming the door back shut into your face, causing you to flinch. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“So this is it?”

Daniel swore he was only a second away from exploding, your question sending him over the edge as he chuckled in frustration, not knowing whether you asked what you asked simply to piss him off, or if you were genuinely placing an inquiry that you had been unclear about.

“This is what? Are you fucking with me?”

“You’ve hated me ever since you stepped into my office. You always did, say it. Just say that you hate me, you can’t stand me anymore, come on. Or is this just for Sam’s ears? That you wished I’d taken you out of the case just so you wouldn’t have to listen to my voice any longer. Come on, Kaffee, that’s all you’ve got to say.”

Daniel backed away in disbelief, then made you silently wince as he punched hard against the door, the sound of his skin hitting the processes wood ringing in faint echoes inside your eardrums. You’d driven him out of control.

“Me? Hate you? How could you possibly say such a thing — I — I…” Daniel wasn’t sure how to continue the sentence. There were too options and both of them would have a negative impact upon your relationship with each other and case.

One; he could let his tipsy mind ramble on and on about how you hadn’t once left his mind ever since he saw you for the first time, that he’d never felt so intimidated by anyone, never had fallen into such a deep awe of someone’s passion and ability to pursue their goals in life. That he wished he could possess the one thirds of your courage and determination, because you were honestly scared of nothing, got all the questions you wanted answered within a heartbeat. You didn’t back down in any occasion, you were your own person and Daniel had fallen so deeply in love with everything that you so proudly owned in your character that he thought he was a lost card.

Two; he could never continue the sentence, trail off and stay completely silent, see if you had anything to reply to him — and of course, he opted for the safest option, which was the second one. He was too scared of wearing his heart on his sleeve, knowing that you’d break it anyway.

“The fact that you’re so fucking scared of being a lawyer is beyond me. You’re in the Navy for crying out loud, get a hold of yourself,” was all you muttered in response, leaning against his door, completely unaware of the fact that he was also in the same position, that if the door disappeared in thin air that very moment, you’d fall on top of him with your mouth so dangerously close to his own that he’d pass out (and so would you, in some extent.)

Daniel’s every muscle was so tightly contracted, that he believed they’d crash altogether without any warning if he spent one more minute, forehead pressed against the door, knowing damn well that you were still outside, that you breathed just as heavily as he did, that he’d tied himself to the tracks, ready to be run over.

He knew that whatever was happening in that moment would reek of runny makeup and salty tears, sweat of agony running down the faces of two attorneys, bewildered and scorned as they fell into silence in preference of doing what they’d studied in law school for four years; defend their own selves, master the words. The ability of speaking had died down your throats near the day you chose bitterness over respect for each other.

Daniel averted his eyes to the ground, mustered all the courage he could possibly get and loosened his fingers in his fist. He called your name once, twice, but no reply ever came back. He knew you’d left, could understand it by the way he peaked through the glass hole in his door and saw that no one was there. His logic screamed at him to stay where he was, crash in the couch, close his eyes and sleep, forget about the case, forget about you, the conversations, the feelings, the tension, everything. Take down the entire Jack Daniel’s bottle and lean into the cushions without any further thinking.

Thank God that Daniel hated logical reasoning.

His door flew open as he hurried outside, not caring about his half unbuttoned dress shirt and blowsy uniform. It had been raining for hours now, the steady patter of water hitting against the windows of his small apartment long since faded to a dull rush in the back of his mind. He stepped out of the building, the thick material of his coat almost getting soaked through instantly. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out how far ahead you’d gotten, the pouring rain blurring his vision as he eventually spotted you on the road.

“Commander!” he shouted, but you didn’t turn, so he called for your name instead, numerous times until your feet gave up. A piercing gust of wind shook the trees above your head, showering your already miserable frame with a fresh deluge. You wiped the water from your eyes with a wet sleeve and tucked a lock of long brunette hair that fell into your eyes behind your dampened ear.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” you said with a steady voice, barely audible in the downpour. Daniel tried to catch his breath as he finally reached you, looking like he was about to either melt along with the rain, or simply vanish.

“No, I can’t accept that. We — We braved extraordinary circumstances to get over here. You need to give me one chance,” he begged, but you kept walking, tired of his mediocre speeches and dramatic overreactions everywhere possibly imaginable. You wanted facts, wanted to listen to him fully, crystal clearly admit what he had to say. Not dance around it like he’d catch on fire. “Hey, I’m talking to you! Fucking listen to me!”

“Fuck off, Lieutenant Kaffee!” you screamed back, not caring about the fact that the rain would probably give you a deadly cold the following day, if not kill you by throwing you off at a very abrupt road pit. Daniel was soaked, hair sticking to his forehead and still very drunk. He felt embarrassed of how high pitched his voice got whenever he yelled from the top of his lungs, almost sounding like a complaining kid at the supermarket, who wouldn’t get the sweets he wanted from the counter while waiting to pay.

He needed answers. Did you even like him?

“You’re saying I’m scared and you can’t even face how you feel!” he shouted catching you off guard. “You can’t even look at me without lying.” Your blood was boiling into your veins as you gave him that chance, which he so desperately wanted, to explain himself to you, to see what he had to say.

“What did you just say?”

Daniel came closer, hands shaking from the temper building within him, looking pathetic as his hair dripped along with the rain down his face.

“You say I’m scared, but you’re terrified. At least I’ve shown you how I feel about you. I give myself away, because I can’t hold back everything that goes into my head the second you walk in it. I’m too weak to defend myself when it comes to you — look at me, you make me forget how to do my job — and I’m one of the most qualified lawyers out there, according to the Navy.”

“What are you talking about? You haven’t even once told me anything about how you feel about me. I’ve overheard you say to Sam that you hate me, that you wish you couldn’t hear my voice. What the fuck were you on about, huh, Kaffee?”

Daniel threw his hands and looked up, gulping down his worn out feelings as he tried to collect himself from breaking down in front of you, yet once again. “You know what Sam said to me when I kept telling him all that stuff about you?”

“I don’t care about what he said to you,” you scoffed in annoyance, ready to leave again, when you heard the words fly out of his mouth.

“That I’m in love with you!”

Daniel ached to prove that you were the scared one in this, breath wasted as he summoned every single ounce of remaining strength he had to grab you by the arm and yank you close to him, crashing his lips into yours forcefully. He never imagined the first time he’d get to kiss you to be that way. His body was trembling in fear (and because of the weather), heart hammering in the most literal way possible. The kiss barely lasted, seeing as you pushed him away almost instantly.

He felt crashed into millions of pieces, exploding like they did in the cartoons. He’d gathered so much courage to finally kiss you, and there you were, looking at him like he’d committed some sort of unbelievable crime, like he’d offended your honour. Daniel felt like an idiot; he’d ruined everything even worse. Had he really misinterpreted every look, every conversation, every fight? He wanted to cry, so he did. His tears ran down his salty cheeks, mixing with the rain, which allowed him to sob as hard as he needed to, not caring whether it made him look more pathetic and weak than he already was.

Who was going to see anyway?

You weren’t saying a word and Daniel was sure that another heartbeat was all it would take for the organ to crawl up inside his throat and hurl out, break; rip in two. He’d said his biggest fear, had actually put the exact words in it, then proceeded to throw an action. And he was destroyed, not because you didn’t kiss him back or because you pushed him away, but because you had chosen the mute torture of silence.

“…What else do I have to do to prove to you that I’m so fucking head over heels for you that I can’t possibly concentrate on anything else? I might lose the case and make a fool of myself, because you make me not think,” he tried again, this time with a fragile and weak voice. He honestly had no idea what more he could do to convince you about his feelings, about how nuts you drove him with your attitude and insane personality.

But again, you opted not to say anything. Instead, you quickly took a few steps forward, grabbed him by the ends of the collar of his long, black coat and pulled him into you, mouth capturing his own swiftly as you tilted your head to the side, deepening the kiss. Daniel was paralyzed for a short second, not knowing if he’d been struck by some sort of lightning that had killed him and brought him to a different reality, or whether you kissing him was an actual, real, skin to skin thing.

Stupidly enough, he allowed his lips to turn upwards into a broadening smile, responding with such enthusiasm, even though he was ridiculously taken aback by your choice of action. It took him a minute to regain his composure, the storm — hell, the entire world — around you feeling meaningless as his hands laced with yours, causing your grip on him to relax a little.

Daniel was falling fast, faster than ever, craving more of your scent and the feel of you pressed closer and tighter to him, the taste of alcohol mixing along with the buds of your mouth, unsure how this whole story had even began for him.

But his stupid, stupid lungs had to find air, and he was forced to separate from you with the feeling of gravity being torn out of his core. You’d disconnected your hands from his (with another pitiful drop in his stomach) so you could run them through his disheveled, wet hair, and his eyes fluttered close at the touch. You looked up at him with an emotion that neither of you could really find the words to explain, and Daniel wanted to kiss you again, heat rising to his face, forming a what he thought could be a permanent blush as his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

“I’m so wet,” you realised out loud with a dumb smile, trying to hold back a giggle as you watched him bemusedly, eyes glowing brightly at the way he looked at you with such confusion, a bulge straining into his damp uniform pants.

“What — wha… what?” his voice was high pitched and shaky as he cleared his throat. “Oh! Shit — the rain, let’s — let’s get you inside!” He was so flustered and hard, just from one kiss, and he stuttered in every word he spoke. He took his coat off and covered your head with it as he grabbed you by the hand, hurrying back to his apartment.

When you went inside, you acted all unbothered, like nothing had even happened just a moment ago, and it was killing Daniel, because he was terrified of you throwing him away once again. He helped you to the couch, then rushed into his bedroom, pulling out every piece of clothing that he had in the wardrobe with such anticipation as he anxiously roamed through the selves to find blankets to offer you, get you dry from the rain.

“Okay, this is all I have. Do you prefer the pink or the... what color is this — orange? Coral? Erm, which one—” he was getting tongue tied and you found it adorable, taking both blankets off his hands as he stared at us, mesmerised. You looked over your shoulder, as if he was looking through you, then returned your gaze at him, getting nervous. “I’ll — I’m going to make coffee!”

You heard him smack his forehead as he went in the kitchen and grinned like a child. “Daniel?” you called from the living room with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“It was coral, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“The blanket. It was coral. Can I change my clothes? I’m getting your couch wet,” you asked.

“Sure! Closet’s in the left.”

You got up, wrapped in the blankets as you walked into his closet, shamelessly going through all of his ridiculous, childish, cheap shirts that you so deeply hated (loved). You found a black shirt, which you threw over your body as you picked a checkered shirt to put on as well, feeling a little lump from the chest pocket. You went through it and pulled out an unused condom, cheeks turning pink as you held out the object and went to the kitchen, proudly exposing it in your hand.

“Is this a gift?” you questioned, laughing wholeheartedly when you noticed Daniel’s cheeks burn red in earth swallowing embarrassment.

“Oh… uhm,” he snatched the condom off you, “you’re wearing my special shirt.”

“Your what?”

“My special shirt. It’s for… good luck… for when I go to baseball games and everything. Or — Or dates. Nothing important, no need to make a great deal out of it.” He felt dead inside, still very confused by the fact that you still hadn’t made the smallest reference to the kiss you’d shared. Was it just a thing that occurred due to the heat of the moment? It broke him just to think so, because for a split minute, he gave himself the permission to picture the two of you together, as an actual couple in love. Was he supposed to bring it up first? Were you waiting for him?

Daniel felt like a jerk, unintentionally pouting.

“Please,” you mumbled. Please stop being pathetic, I really like you too. “Danny?”

“It’s still raining. You can stay… I mean, if you want to, of course.” And gosh, both of you were about to melt, saying nothing, just staring at each other with millions of words being exchanged just through the different kinds of gleams in your eyes. You fucking hated Daniel Kaffee so much.

“Danny?” you repeated and he urgently shook his head, letting you know that you could keep going with the question. You smiled warmly, wrapping your arms gently around his neck, then, “I’d love to stay overnight. Oh, and you’re like seven of the strangest men I’ve ever met.”

FIN.

for your information, me and @honeymvnt wrote this together. might be one of the best things i’ve ever had the chance to write, ilysfm lia 🫵🏼🎀

[z-eel]

Stick with me here.

A modern au set in America. James football player regulus runs track. This is Trans regulus au as well. Sirius already ran away, but they go to the same school they don't really talk. Regulus is super close with Pandora he stays over at her and Evans alot they are twins in this au. Nobody is super rich in this au. Ok, the plot is Regulus and James start dating they keep it on the down low only Remus and Pandora know. Then, one day BOOM Regulus gets pregnant he's freaking out he finds out with Pandora he was staying over. She's like you gotta tell James so he tries telling James, but he sucks at it, so James makes it sound like he NEVER wants kids with regulus. So Regulus is like I gotta get rid if this baby so he tells Pandora but their state doesn't allow it so they are like we gotta go out if state and Evan just so happens to over hear him and he's like dudes Barty has a truck he'll take us. So they all leave on a road trip to go to a clinic. Back at school, Dorcas is catching Marlene up on what is going on, and Marlene is like that probably why James is freaking out that regulus isn't messaging him and stuff. So she let's it slip to sirius, who really freaks out, and long story short, James group goes on a road trip to catch up with regulus group becuase regulus group won't answer their calls.

And all sorts of wacky stuff ensue. I actually came up with this idea after taking cold medicine while in a bath.

this is everything to me right now, i wish i could just give you 50k words of this right now, but since i am incapable of doing I instead present you with a snippet of what I have in the works...

-☆-

“Now we wait.”

Three minutes, that’s all he had. That was all the time he had left to think about every possibility under the sun. Stupid box with that stupid maybe cat, Schrödinger's Cat, that’s all he could think about. He was that stupid cat.

Never in his life has he hated cats more than he did in this exact moment.

“How would you feel if you were pregnant?”

Now that was the question, how would he feel?

He’s never met a pregnant person before or at least he didn’t know them personally. His cousin had been pregnant five years ago but he didn't have many memories of what it was like, or any questions he might have asked. He did remember the swell of her stomach and the way she would hold it so lovingly. Nothing like the harsh words his mother would tell him. Nothing like the look of disgust in her eyes when she manges to find a picture of herself while she was pregnant.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel as long as my mother doesn’t find out it was even a possibility.”

“Regulus.”

“No, Pandora, she'd have me hanged, and who knows what she would do to James. He’s got that scholarship he needs to worry about, I can’t let my mother ruin that for him. So, no, it doesn’t matter what I want, I just need to make sure I don’t mess things up for James.”

Pandora took in a breath. She clearly wanted to fight him on it.

“Has it been three minutes yet.”

“It’s barely been a minute Regulus.”

Fuck, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do it.

“Please distract me.”

“You can’t just avoid talking about the possibility Reg.”

“No, I don’t have to think about anything because there’s a chance that all of this is pointless and I made a big deal out of nothing.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m scared Pandora. I’m scared that I’ll have broken my promise to my mother. I’m scared that I’ll have forced James to stick by my side, ruined his chance to do something with his life. Scared that he might leave me. Scared that I don’t want this. Scared that I do want this. Scared that I’ll have my hopes up and it would have been for nothing.”

His breathing was too fast, the air entering his lungs but having a hard time coming back out. He was scared of having his hopes up. Fuck.

[heli0s-writes]

Eat the Rich*

Summary: You’re just a girl in a bar way above your tax bracket and Ransom  really doesn’t care for what you’re wearing.

A/N: There are no spoilers for the movie. But, there IS... Smut. Dirty talk. Class warfare in the form of hate-fucking. 2.9k words of FILTH. I need to be exorcised for this. Thank you @evanstarff​ and @tropicalcap​ for sending me straight to hell.

The entire lounge seems to turn when you enter. Eyes slide back and forth your way, mid-conversation mouths dipping into low frowns. Amidst the old-money frat boys from Cambridge, Beacon Hill Barbie socialites, and Downtown business young bloods, you’re a flagrant contrast in ripped jeans and an old hoodie.

A favorite hoodie. An incendiary hoodie.

The kind of hoodie that is worn with pride around these West End parts. Even the group you arrive with tried to hackle you out of it— bachelorette party decorum, they cried, will you please take that thing off?

Your cousin might be marrying Silverspoon Asswipe and stringing herself up pretty next to all his call-girl friends, but you are a Jamaica Plain girl through and through and you will not stuff yourself into a glitzy cocktail dress before this hoodie.

She waves her hand at the hostess to distract her from your outfit, rustling the satin sash over her glossy sweetheart neckline, “Reservation under Prentiss; it was booked this morning?” And then a sharp look at you as if to say, you made the reservations, right?!

Duh. Your eyes respond when the hostess begins to lead your party back. You follow the tail end of the throng, veering off towards the bar; the miasma of Chanel perfume is enough to gag, and the cigar smoke is only a tiny bit better. Not like they’d care or even notice.

“Do you have PBR?”

The bartender stutters and before you can make him any more uncomfortable, a deep voice from beside you nips it in the bud.

Broad shoulders turn until you see his face. Amused, with a single raised eyebrow, mouth just barely tilting up at one corner. Mid-thirties and extremely well-groomed. Slicked back brown hair and classic Ray Bans hang from the collar of his sweater. Too handsome for his own good with the unmistakable swagger of someone grown up filthy rich.

“She’ll have the Glenfiddich. Neat.”

Certainly smug enough to butt in like you’re old friends.

“Will she?” You ponder defiantly at the pursed lips nestled over a strong jaw.

His own thick crystal glass is easily tipped into his mouth when he takes a too-large swig. Signet rings on two left fingers glimmer, and with a low exhale bordering a growl, he hisses through his teeth, “Yeah. I think you will.”

Bold blue eyes roam over your top and the statement printed there for a second before he scrutinizes your face. Then, purposefully—and knowing that your eyes are on him-- he looks back down to the swell of your chest.

A hum of approval before he faces forward again, only giving you his side profile.

“Wow,” you scoff, “Dick.”

The grin that splits his mouth for a second looks angelic if angels could be full-grown men with full-grown egos to match. “Close. It’s Ransom.”

Amber sloshes when the bartender returns, and you chance a sip because even your pride isn’t stupid enough to pass on a free glass of Glenfiddich.

The whiskey bites for a second before rolling smoothly down your throat. There’s an inherently superior taste to these luxury drinks, but you pull a face all the same, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Ransom chuckles, head turning just a tad as he looks to you from the corner of his eye.

“You making a statement with that thing on, or what?”

“You’re the one making a statement with that ladies wool scarf from Drake’s.”

Ransom jerks to you fully now, attention snatched by your wit as he leans in, “Where’d you come from, little girl? Not everyone walks into Carver’s dressed in rags.”

He really is a piece of work. When you tell him your neighborhood, as expected, he snorts with disdain, but his eyes fall back on you again, highly intrigued. “There’s more to you, isn’t there? My scarf, that attitude. Someone taught you a thing or two, didn’t they?”

The single-malt mouthful is singing in your veins and if your confidence was thinking about simmering down for a second, it’s forgotten itself inside the furious swirl. The hand around your empty glass clutches just a tiny bit tighter.

“Oh, come on,” Ransom waggles two fingers for another round, “Let’s see, I’m thinking… blue-collar parents, siblings, maybe with shared rooms in your dilapidated Jamaica Plain home?” A tap of his finger to that pink bottom lip too damn pretty to be on his wretched face, he pretends to mull a thought over.

He looks you up and down, taking just enough time to where you feel violated under his gaze, “I know: Public college. Two-year community. Working a day job in Back Bay made you bitter, didn’t it? Hence, statement piece.”

“Asshole,” you snap, unraveling at the seams with rage, and the bartender quickly flits away again, “Full ride to Northeastern, four years with honors. Back Bay can’t fucking afford me.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his derisive silence incenses you even more. He couples it with a slow flick of his tongue over teeth, flagrant staring, and the piercing blue of his eyes spotlight a trail—across your shoulders, down your arm, jumping from your fingertip to your thigh, and then it dips between.

Every inch of your body prickles alive with reaction, so naturally, you spit, “Fuck you.”

Ransom’s smile grows until it nearly looks genuine, but then the sharp points of his canines sink right into your gut.

“When?”

There is something ugly and incredible simmering behind his thick curtain eyelashes. A clear ocean grows stormy, sizzling like a cruel tempest rushing to life. The yellow gaussian blur from dim scone lights suddenly cast shadows over his sharp nose.

He slaps too many bills on the polished ebony and the swish of his scarf flicks over your knee when he stands. Ransom towers over you, light pink flush of inebriation and excitement growing hotter on his sculpted cheeks. He leans in, the open flaps of his overcoat falling around your shoulder, threatening to swallow you inside all his dark.

Low timbre and dusky spice goads, “Put your money where your mouth is, scholarship; that sweater’s not all talk, is it?”

Dick!

-

Big hands yank the hem up over your head for a second before something changes his mind. The heavy steel door is latched twice over and he’s pushing you into it with his imposing frame. Your skull hits the metal as his knee parts your thigh, leg shoving itself up in-between until you’re on your tip-toes, with nothing to do but land on him. The heat of it rushes all the way up to the top of your head, pouring from your mouth in a choked mewl.

Ransom rucks the top over your breasts until the words scrunch up at your collarbones and you think it must bring him some masochistic satisfaction to know their unforgiving glare:

Eat the Rich

His warning chills your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck that line from your brain. Fuck it right out.”

He yanks everything south of your waist to your ankles and pulls himself free from his pants, effortlessly tearing a condom from inside his leather wallet and slipping it on. Between the time he gets your bare ass on the counter and the sound of the rubber snap, he’s already branded a purple streak onto the side of your neck and you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see his length rising from beneath his cable-knit. Bright pink and angry, and so goddamn thick it makes you whimper. Ransom smothers it with his demanding and hungry mouth, impatient at being empty, stinging with whiskey and force. He’s probably never waited on anything in his life and within a short fifteen minutes of meeting him, you know that to be true.

Not a care in the world is given as goosebumps break out all over your arms.

He spins you into the sink countertop and then the two of you are staring at each other in the mirror’s reflection. His hands return to your hips with a bruising clutch and those thick fingers begin to rub the slick between your folds all over your thighs. Fucking A-- It’s good. Idiot rich boy does have the Midas Touch.

One long leg kicks your jeans completely off, sole of his shoes stomping all over them. He’s unforgivingly large and he knows it because everything about Ransom Drysdale is a statement: his clothes, his attitude, his dick. There’s a joke in here somewhere about him being the very epitome of it, but he’s glaring at you with that pretty bottom lip stretched between perfect white teeth and maybe you can forgive the fact that he’s leaving boot marks all over your jeans and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on your back.

“Tell me,” he teases, slipping one finger in, the metal of his ring pressing up against your clit, “Tell me you’ve had it like this before.”

A slow roll of his hips against your ass, letting the weight of his cock pressed hot and tight between his body and yours. You find yourself inching higher, micro-movements attuned to his, staring but unseeing at his face, buzzing with the raw need to be clenching around more than one finger.

“Not like this, not off Glenfiddich, in Jamaica Plain…”

And without thinking, because there isn’t much to think about, you hiss, “Oh, fuck you!”

Ransom chuckles into your ear because your voice breaks just a tad and he’s going to win this fight. Claws and teeth out sharper than knives, he bites down on your shoulder and slips in another finger. The distinct sensations—soft, slippery, strokes and the sting of his teeth—are scrambling your brain.  

He grips himself tight, pushes in with uncharacteristic restraint, and you’re so desperate and aching for it all you can do is push back and pray the sound you might be making isn’t loud enough for everyone in the damn place to hear.

You stifle a grunt with his next languid stroke and Ransom raises an eyebrow, “What? You suddenly shy now?”

It might be just a restroom, but it’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been inside. Carver’s cigar room’s private single occupancy nook and he’s usurped it to screw you senseless. As if reading your thoughts, he rolls his eyes and continues, glaring at your half-lidded reflection.

“Who gives a shit?” Then, another smirk, “If you’re gonna scream, get my name right.”

Your belly is quivering from the pressure, holding yourself together as best you can before he takes you to pieces. The grooves in his rings cut into your skin. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers crawling up your chin to shove inside your mouth.

Like everything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he’ll own this, too.

And then it’s only punishment. Ransom twists your hair around one fist, other forearm pressing like an anchor on your sternum, wrist shoved through the neckline, hand splayed open and clutching your throat and it goes nearly all the way around. The reflection of your panting mouth and bouncing breasts matching his every thrust is lewd and vile and so goddamn good.

“I bet you fuck on top, don’t you, scholarship?” He releases your throat to pinch your cheeks together, tipping your head derisively, making you nod yourself stupid—awful and humiliating but it unexpectedly thrills.

“Bet you’re too proud to ask.” He makes you nod again, “Bet you want someone to fuck you open just like this—all filthy and sloppy—“

And he doesn’t have to make you agree that time, you’re already limp in expectation and your reflection, damn her, she nods.

He’s still fully dressed, coat swaying to cocoon the both of you in what is probably a hundred thousand dollars. His watch, his rings, his fucking boxers. That stupid cable knit sweater.

A yelp leaks out with your orgasm- unexpected and high and quick, like a wounded animal as you tip your head back onto his shoulder. He doesn’t stop, even for a second. Ransom thrusts deeper, and on the cusp of your second undoing, he licks an errant bead of sweat down the back of your neck.

“You got one more. Yeah, that’s right— one more— God, your pussy loves it. Squeezing me fucking good.” He’s sick. He’s sick and Jesus Christ, aren’t you, too? “Yeah. Push back on my cock. Fuck yourself with it…”

He guides your fingers to your clit with his free hand and begins to rub in motions. Your eyes flutter when he breathes into your ear, “There you go, scholarship, you’ll never get dick this good again—so go ahead and be selfish. I wanna see you all fucked out, fucked stupid, coming all over my dick.”

With two fingers sluiced with your spit, Ransom crams them up next to his cock and you can’t believe how he did it so easily but maybe you can. Yes, filthy and sloppy and never like you’ve had before. Your hands grip the counter top so tightly the tips look white and bloodless and the strained coil inside snaps clean in two.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! God!”

You slump backwards, fingertips to toes shocked tingly numb, boneless and empty of all thought, but he holds you up with ease. Ransom shushes your gasps, paws your breasts and fluttering sternum, runs his hand over your face and throat. The pinch of his fingers returns to your cheeks and he drags his other hand from inside your pussy up into to your mouth. Slick and dripping, a little rubbery from the condom, but otherwise just like yourself.

“Well, look at that. Aren’t you just…”

He pauses to view your blissful face, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, head resting on his shoulder, slanted just enough so that the tip of your nose brushes his jaw. A quick laugh, strangely knowing and a bit sweet or maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, before he turns cold again.

“Make good on your slogan. Get on your fucking knees.”

His hand looks ridiculous, big and strong and wrapped around the best part of him, completely filthy with you smeared over his fist and you slide to your knees, forehead resting briefly on his knee. His pants have fallen around his ankles, boxers still midway, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly do much more than give him a light kiss to his inner thigh—God knows why—before you peel the rubber off.

It lands into the toilet and you obediently stick out your tongue, still panting to catch your breath as Ransom aims toward your open throat. “There you go,” he groans, fisting himself, “That’s it. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

And you don’t.

-

“So,” your old mentor asks, familiar low drawl of his voice crackling with the tone of a lifelong smoker, “What do you think?”

A hum passes through from your end as you think about all the ways Ransom Drysdale Thrombey pulled you apart and in all the ways you’ll probably think about for at least a couple of months.

“He’s exactly who you think he is.” You rock back and forth on your feet near the curb, “Disrespectful…” Scholarship, Ransom’s voice sneers, “Selfish…” Who gives a shit? “Manipulative.”

Well look at that… aren’t you just… And the glimmer of those big blue eyes half-crazed with lust and control, drinking in your reflection in the mirror, makes you clench up right there in the parking lot.

“You think he’s a killer?” Blanc asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” You reply, “Depends. He takes what he wants when he wants it… Could care less if he burns the world down with him. You divine the rest.”

Benoit Blanc’s frustrated sigh is all the response you expect him to give. This case with the Thrombeys really has gotten him all twisted up. He wouldn’t have called you for a favor if it didn’t. Of course, when he asked you to check Ransom Drysdale Thrombey out, he’ll be at Carver’s tomorrow around ten, he probably had other scenarios in mind…

“Well,” he mumbles, “Thanks again. These people sure are hell to be around. Give the new Prentisses my best, won’t you?”

You say your goodbyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket, shifting with a wince when the soreness between your legs throbs again. With a sigh into the dark autumn night, you shove your hands inside the center pouch of your hoodie, keeping your head low but still wary enough to find your Uber.

Ransom left you in the restroom about ten minutes ago, sitting on your haunches, still trying to remember how your lungs work. Right before the door shut, he had turned around and gave you one last smirk, pointing right at your top with glee. “How’d I taste, baby?”

Blanc needs to be careful, not that he isn’t— because he always is, as nutty as his brain works, he is. But Ransom is the only Thrombey you’ve met and if there are ten more of them… Blanc would do good to watch his ass and maybe get some extra help.

A jangle disrupts the quiet when you begin to play with what you’ve taken. Jagged metal edges. Heavy iconic insignia laying benignly in your palm before you tug it out.

Idiot. Good dick or not, an idiot is an idiot is an idiot— especially his kind. Didn’t even notice you slipped these right out of his coat pocket. You swing the ring around your flexed pointer in swift, angry circles, keys clanging together before your hand shuts it up.

With a hard wind of your arm back, you fling the set long into the night, satisfied when it lands behind a building some distance away.

Ransom Drysdale, you think, enthusiastic smile growing on your face as your ride pulls around the corner, have fun looking for those tonight.

Dick!

-

Ransom tags: @mermaidxatxheart @dumbubblegum @sapphirescrolls @gothambrat @southerncross47 @bubblegumpeeeach @fiercephantasmagoria @saliarheva @amberakawolfie

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[we-are-inevitable]

how would davey’s family play into the new au?? do they know about his rebel phase as it’s happening, or does he try to hide it? did the way he was raised influence why he would want to act out?

so one of my biggest inspirations for this was thinking about davey just,, getting addicted to freedom because, lets face it, he probably didn't have much to begin with??

like- he was free, but he wasn't free. His family loved and supported him, yes, but they did it to the point of suffocating him; constantly checking his grades, wanting him to be the best in school and the best on the basketball team and the best in his clubs and organizations and it all worked out in his favor, yeah, but getting a full ride to college on academic scholarships means nothing to Davey when he's literally fighting for the chance to live the way he wants and not have to constantly follow everyone's expectations for himself, yknow ??

his family wants the best for him, and davey HAS the best, but once he gets a taste of that rebellion- of doing everything he's ever been told not to do- he gets hooked on the adrenaline rush.

and tbh i think he'd probably go low contact with his family at college ?? i feel like davey would almost be resentful of the pressure his parents put on him throughout his childhood. he knows that they meant well, but he also wants a little time to be selfish, so he only really talks to them when he has to.

SO, Esther and Mayer don't realize that Davey has gone a little off the rails until he comes home with six tattoos and a few piercings and a pack of cigarettes visible in his pocket. they don't realize that their baby boy isn't a baby anymore until it's too late, i guess.

and when they try to help him get back on track, he takes it the wrong way and gets upset; he doesn't want them to control him anymore, so he probably drops all contact unless absolutely necessary, and doesn't come home until he realizes that he's fucked up and he needs their help.

also i think that they'd like. fucking HATE jack with a PASSION, and probably wouldn't even like him after he and Davey get back together once they're both sober and stable, so !! yeah

[blackmissfrizzle]

Sanctuary

Summary: The reader gives Spooky an ultimatum when he abandons Cesar.

Pairing: Spooky x black!reader

Warnings: Mention of smut & language.

Bacon was sizzling in the pan, the potatoes and eggs were being kept warm in the oven, and you were flipping tortillas while dancing to your Spotify playlist.

“Good morning,” Spooky greeted you, his voice full of sleep.

Still mad that he didn’t care that Cesar had nowhere to go you ignored him and the one thing Spooky hates is being ignored.

He caged you in between him and the stove. “You still giving me the silent treatment, ma?”

You wanted to bump him out of the way, but you didn’t feel like hearing him yell, so you actually spoke to your boyfriend. “Can you please move? I need to get the eggs and potatoes out of the oven.”

Stepping back, Spooky moved and took a seat at the table. Bending down you got the food out the oven and you could feel him admiring your ass.

Silently, you made his and yours plates, slightly slamming his plate down. Oscar always led the prayer and the only time he heard you spoke was the amen.

Halfway into breakfast, you broke and told Spooky what’s been on your mind. “I’m gonna let Cesar stay with me.”

Oscar put down the taco that was halfway to his mouth and just stare you. To others it was supposed to be intimidating, but to you it didn’t mean shit. “Run that by me one more time.”

“I’m gonna let Cesar stay with me,” you repeated yourself, resuming to eat your food.

“No, you’re not. He’s not allowed on Santos’ streets and no girlfriend of a Santo would do that.”

“Well, one of those could easily change.” The threat of y’all breaking up is what caused Spooky’s usual calm demeanor to change. He backed out his seat, causing the chair to scrape across the floor, grabbed your seat to face him and leaned over you.

“You threatening to break up with me?”

Pulling his face closer to you, you kissed him aggressively. First, he was shocked because Spooky was the aggressive one, but once he was over the shock, he got used to it until he wanted to dominate you. Remembering that you needed some air and you had to tell Spooky something, you broke the kiss. “That’s exactly what I mean,” you whispered against his lips.

Oscar pushed off the chair and started pacing. “What do you want me to do? The cuchillos made that call, not me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe put your family over the Santos,” you say sarcastically.

“The Santos are my family!” Oscar yelled back.

Unfazed by his outburst, you began cleaning up. Spooky eyed you warily, knowing you could go off at him at any moment for him yelling at you, but you never did. You continued cleaning the kitchen, then headed to the room to change.

When you came back out, you had your overnight bag in your hand. “You can throw away the rest of my things. I don’t need em.”

Spooky tried to snatch the bag out your hand but you were faster. “Y/N, quit your shit and put the bag down. Now!” He ordered you.

“No! I tried to reason with you last night and you blew me off. I tried again this morning and you still won’t budge. I’m not gonna let an innocent kid, a kid I consider a like a little brother live on the streets. So, if you and the rest of the Santos have an issue with it, y’all can kiss my black ass!” You walked towards the front door, but Spooky blocked your exit.

“You think you can do whatever you want because you’re the so-called Princess of Freeridge? You don’t even know how hard it is to live in Freeridge!”

Princess of Freeridge was a nickname that you believed you didn’t deserve. Your dad was the one, who was born and raised in Freeridge, and he was respected by all. He wasn’t affiliated with either the Santos or the Prophets, but both gangs knew not to mess with him, he was dangerous on his own. Eventually, he got out of the hood, got a football scholarship, and made into the NFL.

Once, your dad was big time, your grandma refused to leave her house in Freeridge and being a big momma’s boy, your dad made you and your brothers visit Freeridge frequently. You must’ve been just like your dad, because you took to Freeridge instantly. It was like you were meant to thrive in that neighborhood. Even your dad noticed, and he always said he felt more comfortable with you in Freeridge by yourself than your three older brothers. Also, it didn’t hurt that your uncle, who your dad could barely stand was a Prophet.

With street cred from your dad and uncle, you were practically untouchable in Freeridge. Whenever you were in Freeridge, you somehow always ended up hanging out with Spooky, which eventually turned into a romance.

As you got older, you tried to help the community. You organized various block parties against gun violence, built a community center named after your dad, and helped ex-convicts find legal and sustainable income. But eventually, you would go back to your home in the hills and live your ‘rich girl life’ as Spooky would describe it.

A knock on the door alerted you. When you reached for the doorknob, Oscar slapped your hand away and pushed you behind him, being his overprotective self.

One look out the door and Spooky rolled his eyes. “Oh, you called this pendejo?”

The man he was referring to was your bodyguard, Ray. Even though you could hold your own and no one would be stupid enough to try something with you (except them young’ins as your dad claimed), your dad insisted that you have a bodyguard especially since you came from a famous family.

Ray ignored Spooky and turned his attention to you. “Y/N, you ready? Everything at your grandmother’s is ready.”

Ray and Spooky never liked each other. Spooky swore up and down that Ray had a crush on you and would put the moves on you if he had the chance. Ray, a veteran and an ex-convict himself said Spooky was too small-minded. If he was gonna be a criminal, it better be to make his life better and he believed that it wasn’t and that Spooky was gonna drag you down, not elevate you.

“Yeah, I’m ready Ray. Can you take my bag to the car? I just need to speak to Oscar real quick.” Hesitantly, Ray stepped off the porch to the car.

Grabbing each of Spooky’s hands, you pulled him into a hug. “I love you and I will always love you. Just when you come to your senses, let me know, Oscar.” You kissed him goodbye and hoped with all your heart that he would change his mind.

—

Weeks had passed since you saw Spooky, but you never really had the time. You had to take care of Cesar, listen to his own relationship problems, make sure your play cousin Jamal didn’t get in anymore trouble, and work.

A girlfriend of another Santo bumped into you at the grocery store and told you about the party the Santos were having. She insisted you go because all the hoes would be on Spooky since he was single.

Jealousy reared its ugly head and that’s how you ended up at the party. And homegirl was right, girls were all over Spooky. You were about to go in on him when you saw a very underage person by all the liquor.

“Ay, Ruby what are you doing here?” You questioned one of Cesar’s best friends.

The endearing but annoying teen looked up to you with low eyes. “Your ex-boyfriend dragged me here. And by the way, may I mention that your post-breakup glow is phenomenal.”

Leaning down, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. Just for that I won’t give you any shit about drinking, as long as you can hold your liquor.” Even if he didn’t compliment you, you wouldn’t have snitched on him. It wasn’t too long ago when you were the one drinking underage.

Taking a drink of your own, you roamed around the party, mingled with some folks until one of the girls in Spooky’s lap decided to say something. “What are you doing here? Didn’t Spooky drop your ugly ass?”

Choosing to ignore her for the sake of the party, you turned around and walked away, but homegirl didn’t get the message and pulled you by the shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me, you Prophet bitch?” Her words barely registered in your head, because all you could do is stare at the hand, she decided to touch you with.

Everyone else got quiet to watch the showdown, but Spooky rushed to intervene. He knew once you got that glossy look in your eye it wasn’t long before you started swinging and there was no way Bianca could hold herself against you. Even Spooky was scared to try you.

“Bianca, yo, chill!” Spooky tried to warn the girl, but she was too dumb for her own good.

“No, fuck that! This little rich girl thinks just because her dad grew up in Freeridge, she can do whatever she wants, but she ain’t one of us! She’s more of a Prophet because of her bitch-ass uncle and cousin. She doesn’t deserve a Santo like you, Spooky.” Then the dumb bitch decided she could kiss Spooky in front of you. When she finished, she let Spooky go and smirked at you like she just won him. If she had any social awareness, she would’ve noticed he was disgusted by the kiss.

One look at you and Spooky knew he couldn’t stop you. He slyly stepped out of the way and let you do your thing.

You weren’t one for talking, so you let your fist fly and connect with Bianca’s jaw. She was out cold with one punch. People thought you were soft because you grew up privilege, but you always proved them wrong. They seemed to forget that you had three older brothers, all in professional sports, and one was a mma fighter. Hell, you basically grew up fighting.

Bianca’s friends tried to jump you, but none had hands like you. “Don’t you even fucking dare, Spooky,” you warned him against trying to get the girls off you.

Eventually, they gave up because of the embarrassment of getting beat up by one girl. Leaning over a semi-conscious Bianca, you told her and the other girls surrounding, “Leave Spooky alone and keep my name out your mouth or I won’t go easy on you next time.”

You gave her one good kick and turned to grab Spooky, tonguing him down in front of everyone, marking your territory. The hoots and hollers from everyone alerted you that you weren’t alone, so you stopped kissing him.

Spooky had that lustful look in his eyes and you knew your drought was about to end. He threw you over his shoulder and led you to his house while everyone else cheered you on.

Once inside the house, Spooky set you on your feet and tried to kiss, but you moved out of the way. Hurt that you rejected him, Spooky threw a photo of you and him across the room. “What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N? You gonna claim me in public and reject me in private? What do you want?!”

The pain in his voice caused you to cry. Never in your life have you ever heard Spooky this emotional and to know you were the cause was breaking your heart. “You,” you whispered in between hiccups.

“You got me, baby. Come back home.” He opened up his arms, inviting you back.

Shaking your head, you countered, “I can’t. Not unless your taking Cesar back.”

Spooky ran his hands from the back of his head to the front of his face. This woman was going to drive him crazy. “Come here.” He ordered, taking a seat on the couch. You followed his instructions and instead of sitting next to him, you sat in his lap. Snuggling into him you smelled the beer, weed, and mesquite wood making an intoxicating scent that described him.

Gripping your chin hardly and staring deep into your eyes, Spooky began to speak. “You gotta keep this to yourself. I mean you can’t tell anybody. Not even your pops, understand?”

Sitting up straighter at the seriousness Oscar’s voice you nodded your head yes. “What’s going on, Oscar?” You asked, only using his government name when you were serious.

He began telling you of his and Cesar’s plan of getting him back in the good graces of the Santos. They planned on setting up the Prophets and he even ensured that it didn’t involve your uncle getting caught up.

When he finished explaining, you stood up from his lap and began pacing. Your silence was making Spooky nervous, he grabbed your hand to stop you. “Baby, you good?”

Slapping his hand away, you stood over him and began yelling. “Hell no! You mean to tell me I’ve been moping around about your ass for weeks and almost fucked another guy, for you to tell me you’ve been playing me?”

“Who you almost fuck?” Spooky disregarded the rest and wanted to know who was dumb enough to mess with Spooky’s girl.

“Nah, don’t worry about that. Did you fuck any of those bitches, Oscar Diaz?” You were hovering over him, pointing your index and middle finger on his temple, not caring that he didn’t tolerate that type of disrespect.

Spooky smiled up at you. He was happy that you were just as possessive over him as he was over you. “No, quierda.” He pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I love your crazy ass too much to do that.”

“I love you too,” you muttered against his lips before kissing him. Spooky’s hands went from your hips to under shirt to your bra strap. To help him out you shrugged your shirt off and once it was off it was like he sobered up. Spooky pushed you off his lap and he stood up looking for your shirt.

“What the hell, Spooky?”

“This plan ain’t happening until a couple of weeks and for no one to suspect anything we need to keep up appearances.” Spooky explained, trying his best not to continue what you started.

“Which means you’re still not talking to Cesar and we’re still not together,” you finished for him. “How are we gonna explain tonight?”

Spooky waved you off and smacked his lips. “Man, Julio and his girl breakup and fuck all the time. It ain’t far-fetch for us to be doing the same.”

Smirking you reached out for Spooky’s belt to undo. “We haven’t fucked yet.”

To stop you, Spooky grabbed your wrists and turned your back against his chest. “And we’re not until all this is over, because if I get one taste of you, I’m not stopping.”

He was right, both of you could be insatiable. Reluctantly, you put your shirt on and began making your way to the door. You wanted to stay the night, but the temptation was too great.

“I’m sorry, I lied to you for so long. I didn’t want to involve you with all this.”

Caressing his cheek, you replied. “No, I should’ve known better. Under all that roughness, you’re a good man, Oscar Diaz.” You reached up to kiss him on the spot where your hand was.

Turning the doorknob, you were about to open the door when Spooky stopped you. “Aye, who’s the fool that’s dumb enough to try to fuck you?”

“No one important,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Just let him I’ll shoot him if I need to.”

“Stop it!” Hitting him in the stomach to reprimand him. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

As soon as you opened the door there was a bunch of cheers for Spooky. All of his friends hyped for him ‘getting some.’ To put on a show, he smacked your ass when you turned to walk to your car.  You glared back at Spooky to let him know he would pay for that, but it didn’t faze him. Instead he smiled and mouthed ‘I love you.’ And at that you couldn’t be too mad, because despite all the ups and downs Spooky always had the best intentions and was the man for you.

Tags: @soufcakmistress​ @chonisberonica​ @marvels-gurl​ @veryfastspeedz @bananasandhoney​ @badbitchtingzs 

[wanderingcas]

☆ for @cottondean, as a part of her benefits on my Patreon! thank you so much for your support:’) ☆ prompt: a college au where big, tough (*cough* softie) football player!Dean calls entomology major!Cas to come get a spider out of his kitchen because his roommate is gone

. . . 

There’s a certain part of the quad that Castiel loves to sit. It’s a small field of grass with two large oak trees, far away from the busy shuffling of students walking from class to class. It’s the only patch of nature he can seem to find within a five-mile radius in the bustling city. 

Before he buries his head into the textbook for his Insect Behavior lecture, he takes a moment to tilt his head back against the tree and squint up at the sun, shattered by the hundreds of leaves fluttering in the gentle wind. He takes a large breath and sighs. It’s the calmest part of his day. The only peace he can find with his back-to-back classes, labs, homework, and it’s just lovely to be able to sit and—

His phone buzzes obnoxiously in his jeans pocket. He opens an eye and glares at it. Closes his eyes and tries to find his peace again. The phone vibrates again, this time louder and more insistent. 

With a sigh, he fishes out his phone and flips it open. 

Hey, this is Cas, right? It’s Dean Winchester, we were in Biology lab together last semester. Okay this is a weird thing to text, but you like bugs and everything, right? Well I don’t, and there’s this spider and it’s HUGE like this might be a freaking tarantula and can you kill it? Kevin usually does but he’s out of town.

Castiel stares at the block of text. Another text message comes in: 

Kevin’s my roommate. I should have mentioned that 

He’s pushing the button to respond when another text buzzes in his palm: 

OMG it’s on my cookies!! Wtf!! 

“What the fuck indeed,” Castiel agrees in a low tone. He clicks the call button and holds the phone to his ear.

“Oh hey,” comes Dean’s deceptively breezy voice over the receiver.

“Dean?” Castiel asks. “Are you okay? Your texts seemed very… distressed.”

“Me? Distressed? No way. You can ignore that. I took care of it. I just—” Dean abruptly makes a very high-pitched noise. 

“The spider is still there, isn’t it?” Castiel asks.

“It’s staring at me, Cas. I think it can smell fear.” 

“Oh my god.” Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can be at your apartment in five minutes. Do you still live in the same room?”

“Yes,” Dean whispers. 

Castiel stands and shoulders his backpack. “Why are you whispering?”

“Did you not hear me when I said this is a devil spider?” 

Castiel sighs as he begins to walk to the Circle Apartments across campus. “Well, just make sure not to make any sudden movements, or it may think you’re prey to hunt.” 

“Oh my god, Cas, why the fuck would you tell me—”

“I’m kidding,” Castiel sighs. “I’ll be there soon.” 

Another text comes in as he ends the call. Charlie’s quick text flashes across the screen.

U @ the tree?

Castiel texts back, No. Going to help a friend.

ooOOO who??

Castiel glances around before typing out, Fall semester hot lab partner. 

Rolling his eyes at the caps locked letters he gets back from Charlie, he shuts his phone. Telling only his best friend Charlie about his crush on Dean Winchester is already one person too many. 

Castiel remembers Dean’s apartment’s location from the night they studied for the Biology lab final together. They had sat on Dean’s bed, listening to Led Zeppelin while Castiel quizzed Dean (being an Entomology major, he knew most of the material from his AP Bio classes in high school, so didn’t need to study as much). He still remembers the tint of blush in Dean’s cheeks whenever Castiel praised Dean for his correct answers. 

“You’re actually making me think I can get this stuff,” Dean had said. “I always thought I was too dumb to get this science crap. Not a ton of time to focus on academics, with the football scholarship and all.”

“Of course you can get it,” Castiel said. “You’re far from stupid, Dean.” 

When Dean had grinned widely at that, Castiel had decided that he’d love to put a thousand more smiles on his handsome face.

Castiel shakes his head as he climbs the stairs to Dean’s apartment door. He lost his chance with Dean months ago; he needs to remember that.

He’s barely rapping his knuckles against the door before it bursts open. Dean yanks him inside. “Hurry, it disappeared! I think it went under the stove!” 

Castiel stumbles into the narrow hallway, catching himself with a hand against the wall. He stares at Dean, who is dressed in nothing but gym shorts and a thin white t-shirt, oven mitts on his hands and a colander on his head.

“What in the hell are you wearing?” Castiel asks.

“Defensive gear,” Dean replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Castiel blinks. “Um—” 

Dean grabs Castiel’s arm and pulls him toward the kitchen. “C’mon, dude, it’s getting away!” 

“Dean, it’s not going to hurt you,” Castiel says as he trips after him. “Most spiders in this region don’t even bite.”

“Yeah, most, but knowing my luck this one will.” Dean pushes Castiel forward, hiding behind his back. “Okay, now, go do your… bug whispering.”

“My chosen major does not mean I whisper to bugs,” Castiel says.

“You know what I mean. Go, like… beat it into submission.”

Castiel sighs. He carefully walks across the linoleum kitchen floor, careful not to step on the small creature in case it decides to run under his feet. He spots the spider climbing its way up the side of the stove. 

“Hey, little one,” Castiel says softly. Based on the lack of distinct marks on its brown body, it’s likely a harmless cellar spider. Holding out his hand, he stops the spider’s trek with his fingers, cupping it in his palm. He ignores Dean’s horrified gasp behind him.

“You’ve had a busy afternoon,” Castiel murmurs to the small spider in his hands. He stands and turns toward Dean. “Can you open a window?”

Dean scrunches his face into a frown. “But it’ll just come right back in.”

“It’s warm outside. It’s likely that it’ll simply go look for food.” 

“Ugh. Fine.” Dean tentatively steps past Castiel and opens the balcony screen door. “Put it out here, I guess.” 

Castiel walks out onto the porch and carefully deposits the spider onto the railing. “Good luck,” he says as it scurries away. 

“You’re safe now,” he tells Dean tonelessly as he walks back into the kitchen, sliding the balcony door closed. 

Dean sighs and pulls off the oven mitts. “Thanks. I hate those things.”

“May I suggest that you may have arachnophobia?” Castiel asks. 

“How can you not with those things?” Dean dramatizes a shudder. “They’re nasty.”

Castiel shrugs. “I think they’re quite beautiful.”

Dean gives him a strange look. Huffs a laugh. “You know, I forgot how quirky you are.” 

“It has been a few months since our class concluded.” 

“Yeah. I guess.” 

Castiel pointedly does not mention, or think about, the awkward moment that made them stop speaking again after the end of the semester. 

Dean waves a hand. “Well, anyway, thanks man. For helping me out, and all.” 

The moment that Dean had leaned toward him on the bed, only inches between them, his eyes closing—

How fear made Castiel quickly jump off the bed, avoiding the kiss at all. 

“It’s no problem,” Castiel says quickly, shutting off his line of thinking. He avoids looking at Dean’s lips. “I should probably get back to studying.”  

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Dean rubs at the back of his head. His hair is sticking up wildly after taking the colander off his head. “You know, I’m in another Biology class, actually.”

Castiel’s eyebrows raise. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” Dean grins. “Kinda was inspired by you, actually. You made me like that last class, so I thought… why not another one?”

Castiel feels something in his chest lighten. He smiles. “Oh, that’s—that’s good.” 

They both stand awkwardly, staring at their feet. “You know—” Dean says as Castiel begins, “I should—”

Dean smiles. Castiel hides a laugh behind his hand. “You go,” he says. 

“I was just gonna say, uh—” Dean waves a hand toward the living room. “I was actually about to study, too, if you, well… want company?” He quickly adds, “I can make you dinner for helping with the spider, too.”

Castiel says, “I do remember your cooking being delicious.” 

Dean’s face lights up with a grin. “So you’ll stay?” 

“Yes. Besides, if any insects come flocking at the smell of food, I will need to be here to protect you.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and aims an oven mitt at Castiel’s head. Castiel ducks, this time letting his laugh resound throughout the kitchen. 

They barely get any studying done; Castiel doesn’t mind. He’s perfectly content sitting in Dean’s sunny living room, watching Dean animatedly show Castiel each of his records and ramble off facts over the booming bass. Castiel complains about his classes, propped against the counter with a glass of wine in hand, as Dean cooks pasta. 

They watch Casablanca on the couch; it was Dean’s mom’s favorite movie, and coincidentally, Castiel’s. Not that they make it far; they’re in each other’s arms, kissing and ripping off each other’s shirts like their lives depend on it, barely five minutes into the movie. 

Castiel is lying contentedly on Dean’s bare chest and listening to his heartbeat when he murmurs, “I hope more spiders come into your kitchen.” 

He feels Dean kiss the top of his head. “Y’know what? Me too.”

. . . 

☆my patreon☆ ☆my ko-fi☆

[anotheronechicagobog]

Enemies to Lovers Noah Sexton x dawson!reader

requested by: @bitweird1​

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, child neglect, slightly Dawson bashing but they really just didn’t know, canon compliant threats

You had spent your entire life struggling and working your ass off. No social life, extracurriculars for the sole purpose of applying to universities, and spending the majority of your life studying because according to your dad at least one Dawson had to become a doctor and your older siblings had decided that it wouldn’t be them, leaving you to do nothing but prepare for the future that had been hand-picked by the man you felt abandoned you. And then Noah fucking Sexton just waltzes in having put in half the effort and riding the coattails of his much more intelligent sister who gave up a career as a doctor because of sexism. He spent far too much of his time flirting with everything that had boobs and a pulse. You didn’t like him because he took nothing seriously and didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, and he hated you because you were incredibly uptight and didn’t have a sense of humour.

“Maybe you’d have more friends here if you didn’t have a stick shoved up your ass.”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to become a doctor.”

Everyone was getting really sick of your fighting, so they banded together and made things worse. They had badgered you until Doris had enough and dragged you to Molly’s. You refused to drink or eat anything, resulting in more snide remarks between you and Noah. Just when everyone was developing a migraine before they were anywhere even close to drunk your parents burst through the door and marched over to you. And suddenly, everyone in the bar, including your siblings, were subjected to and twenty-minute rant from your parents about how you should be grateful they pushed you towards medical school and all the activities that got you scholarships, that they didn’t abandon you, and that they clothed and fed you because a third child cost so much money, how you never took anything seriously and were always joking around, and how you were a disgrace to the family. Once they finished, your dad dragged you out by your arm, your mom followed muttering about why couldn’t you be more like Gabby and Antonio.

You walked into the ED the next day as robotic as ever. The pitiful and awkward stares were ignored with ease, it was something you were quite used to if you were honest. Your parents were always scrutinized by your teachers and DCFS. At the end of the day, though, they weren’t abusive enough for any charges or housing changes to be set. They weren’t like that with Gabby and Antonio, who had mostly moved out by the time you were in kindergarden, you were their last chance to help them prove to their family that they didn’t fail as parents. And they made sure you knew it.

“Dr. Dawson, you’ve got a patient in treatment one. Also, uh, are you okay? I feel pretty bad about last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about anything. I’m fine, and my parents were right I should’ve been studying. It was a poor decision on my part not to. I’m gonna get to this patient, but you really don’t need to feel bad, okay?”

She nodded absently as you turned your back to her. ”Hi, I'm Dr. Dawson, can you tell me what brought you in today?”

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

Your patient had just gone up to the OR to have a blood clot removed and you made your way to the doctor’s lounge, followed by Noah Sexton. ”Hey, Y/N, are you-”

”Yes, Noah, I am okay. Yes, I'm sure. I am fine, I am always fine.”

”From my experience when people say they're fine they're usually not.”

”Noah, I am okay.”

“I don’t believe you.”

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

The next few weeks were a maze of pitiful stares, hushed concerned words, and a silent Noah. All of it was completely unnerving. It all came to a head when Dr. Charles approached in the ED you about starting therapy with him, talking continuously about all the points ‘brought to his attention’, not even giving you the time to tell him the majority were false. “Excuse me?” 

Your stomach coiled in anger at his words. Not only were you more than capable of doing your job, but you already had a therapist. With basket case parents like yours, it was blatantly obvious that therapy was required. But the audacity of your co-workers to gossip so much that it came to the point over half the points Charles brought up were complete BS was astounding. Not only that, but he’d apparently spent the last few days internet stalking you to try and find some of your demons. “Dr. Charles, do you consider me a danger or liability to any of the patients or doctors at this hospital because of my relationship with my parents?”

“No, you actually seem to be well balanced mentally.”

“Then what, on earth, made you think it was appropriate to go around behind my back asking everyone at the hospital their opinion about me and what happened at Molly’s, or stalk me online to try and get a read on me, and then ask me blatantly at work, in the middle of the shift, in front of all my co-workers and superiors? What made you think it was okay to loudly bombard me with rumours and hearsay while I’m working?”

“Well, I thought that since it’s my job to check on all the ED docs, I’d check on you.”

“... You’re joking, right? I am the only person in this department who goes to therapy. Don’t kid yourself, you don’t check on anyone here. You judge them and make sure they know it. And quite honestly, you don’t have the best reputation for looking out for the mental and emotional state of your colleagues. This confrontation was not only completely inappropriate, but rude, obnoxious, presumptuous, riddled with unchecked errors, and unprofessional.”

“That’s not how I would word it.”

“It’s how I see it, and how I’ll word it with HR.”

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

No one was pitying you anymore, not since the tongue lashing you gave Dr. Charles, who was on very thin ice with the hospital. While bringing up Robin and Sarah may have been a bit of a low blow, it exposed some issues with Dr. Charles that needed to be addressed. The only person who acted as if you were made of glass was Noah Sexton. While he had been a bit of a pain in the ass, this was worse. He was being sickeningly nice to you and it was getting on your last nerve. Yes, your parents were abusive. Yes, you had a messed up and traumatic childhood. But did that limit your abilities? No. Did that make you mentally unstable requiring therapy and fragility from your coworkers? Absolutely not.

He came in with coffee exactly the way you liked it, again. With a muffin, again. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what, Y/N?”

“Stop acting weird. You don’t like me, you hate me, actually. The only reason you’re being nice to me is because my parents resent my existence. I do not need or want your pity. So stop treating me like a china doll, and start treating me like your coworker.”

“Okay, okay, I uh... I’m sorry. I just, I feel guilty, okay? I gave you such a hard time for being so frigid and then when your parents showed up at Molly’s and started screaming at you for existing and having a life of your own, it just all made sense. And I gave you shit and trouble for coping with your crazy-ass parents. And then Dr. Charles came by to talk to you and I just felt even worse because even though I didn’t tell him anything, it was our fighting that put the spotlight on you in the first place. You shouldn’t have had your dirty laundry aired to the entire hospital, that’s happened to me a few times and it’s horrible, and I feel bad because I know that I was a contributing factor to all the shit you’ve had to deal with at work.”

“I get where you’re coming from, but let’s be real, everything would’ve turned out exactly the same way if you weren’t involved. The gossip mill runs strong at Gaffney.”

“Yeah, it does. I still feel bad.”

“Well, you’re forgiven then. So you can stop treading delicately, buying me coffee, and being creepily nice to me.”

“I am not being ‘creepily nice’! And how can being nice be creepy anyway?”

“Yesterday you followed me around offering to help me take my gloves on and off constantly, to the point where a patient who came in for falling out of the ceiling above the women’s changeroom said ‘that’s just weird’.”

“... Okay. I’ll stop. But I gotta be honest, I don’t think I can go back to arguing with you all the time.”

“That’s fine, just stop acting so weird that a couple I caught having kinky sex after an STD swab said ‘that made us really uncomfortable’.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Seriously, you didn’t have to tell me twice.”

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

SIX MONTHS LATER

You and Noah had actually managed to become good friends and roommates. Shortly after he started acting like a normal person around you, not an instigator or a psycho, you found yourself enjoying his company. And yesterday, when you’d come home to find your room completely torn apart by your mother because your father had tried to frame you for using weed, you were done. Most of what you owned had been destroyed in your mother’s search, which sucked, but it made packing up all your stuff into your car much easier.

So far you’d ignored 43 texts, 12 calls, two visits from Gabby when she brought in a patient, and one visit from Antonio who didn’t even bother trying to lie to you. He also threatened to impound your car, you threatened to tell Voight about the time he and Lindsay got drunk and hooked up. It didn’t even matter that she was in New York now, Voight wouldn’t even blink before bludgeoning him down. He swore at you, “how could you break mami’s heart like this?”, and “can’t you just behave and do what you’re told for once?”

You looked him dead in the eyes, heart beating erratically at you older brother supporting your parents belittling and abusing you, “You sound like dad Antonio.”, watched his face fall, and left. Noah stopped him when he went to follow you. “You good?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t have a place to go tonight.”

“Did your mom kick you out?”

“No, I left. I can’t do it anymore. I break out in hives whenever I even think about my mother now. I just can’t go back.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I have been looking for a roommate, we can move you into my place after shift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Now come on, it’s prank week. Stohl pissed off Manning last week and she’s been planning revenge ever since, you do not want to miss this.”

And you didn’t. You entered the ED to find one of the most hated doctors in med spitting out Gatorade. “WHaT thE heLL?! That was sooo-ughghghg-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before running to the doctor’s lounge to throw up in the bathroom. To Natalie’s credit, she didn’t crack a smile or react at all as she gracefully stepped over the spilled orange Gatorade. She briefly reminded you of a fae, graceful, beautiful, and cunning as all hell. You made a mental note never to cross her. Later at lunch, Natalie opened her sushi container, slightly deconstructed each piece, loaded all the pieces up with wasabi, reconstructed them, and popped one in her mouth. Everyone sitting near her had their eyes flash in recognition. Stohl had a habit of stealing other people’s food, and no matter how many times anyone told him to stop, they were just bullied into compliance. As a result, everyone had to dictate their food choices around his palette. Which meant no spicy food. Something that sucked for nearly everyone because hot food was a favourite for most people in the ED. But Manning wasn’t taking his shit. Not today. Something that worried everyone sitting around her because she would get in trouble for eating her own food how she liked it. It wasn’t until one of the HR workers, Holly, sat down beside Natalie and engaged in conversation that everyone realized the full scope of her plans. Stohl plopped down beside you and stole half of your sandwich right out of your hand. Ranting and raving, insulting everyone, stealing food, he made his way all around the circular cafeteria table until he got to Nat. He scooped up to pieces and threw them in his mouth just after he finished the words ‘insolent underlings’. Everyone held their breath as they watched his pale face redden exponentially. His eyes widened. And then he screamed. 

He yelled, he swore. “I’m going to report you to HR! You tried to poison me!”

“You stole food from everyone, something inappropriate, unethical, and unprofessional. You stole her food. That she made spicy to her tastes. She didn’t try to poison you.”

“And just who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Holly Scott, from HR.”

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

You and Noah were doing great, as roommates and as friends. “Hey, do you have any plans for dinner tonight? My parents invited me over for dinner and they asked me to extend an invite to you. It’s nothing major, they wanted to meet my previous roommates, too. Make sure you’re not a hooligan.”

“Okay, sounds fun. What should I bring?”

“Yourself...?”

“It’s rude to show up at someone else’s home without a gift.”

“You don’t need to bring my parents a gift.”

“Oh, I’m bringing a gift. I’m just asking you for some input.”

“Okay, well they really like wheelie shoes-”

“Ha, oh my god, I meant for what your parents would like, not you. And want wheelie shoes? Those have been out for a while, Noah.”

“Hey, do not laugh at me! They are just a very effective and fun way to get around.”

“Would you like them to light up too?”

“... Is that an option?”

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

You knocked on the door while Noah rolled his eyes at you. “I grew up here!”

“Well you don’t live here anymore and it’s rude to just barge into someone’s home and act like you own the place.”

“Oh, you must be Y/N! I wasn’t expecting anyone to knock, usually, Noah just barges in and acts like he owns the place. Come in, come in. It’s freezing outside.” You gave Noah a side-eyed smirk as you took off your coat, while he looked bashfully embarrassed. “Uh, here Ms. Sexton, I brought some homemade empanadas, they can be put in the fridge or kept in the freezer, and it’s best to reheat them in the oven. 350 F, ten minutes from the fridge and about 20 if they were put in the freezer.”

“Oh, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I was raised that when you go over to someone’s house for dinner or an event, you bring a gift. And it was either this or a house plant.”

“Ha, good idea going with the food, it’s a Sexton family trait that will kill all the plants we touch. Thank you very much.”

“Hello, you must be Y/N. It;s wonderful to meet you- and what smells so good?”

“Y/N brought empanadas, and they are going away so that you and I can enjoy them later. Now everyone, to the dining room, dinner is just about done.”

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

Things started to change a bit a few months later when Choi had to physically restrain Noah from attacking a drunk bar fight patient who called you a slut in the middle of the ED. You’d been confused but Maggie just kept saying that it was a matter of time.

When you’d been hanging around at Molly’s with Noah, Sarah, and Darren, Noah had his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders, something your sister gave you the eyebrow for from her place at the bar.

After you’d been mugged and beaten, you’d run to the 21st, where your brother promptly unleashed the most fearsome demon hell has ever cowered from, AKA Hank Voight, he also called Noah. And when your brother finally made an arrest and got Voight to calm down a little, he’d entered the breakroom to find you fast asleep, curled up against Noah. Who sat in an incredibly uncomfortable position, holding you and stroking your back. You missed the dark look that crossed his face, or the one of fear that had crossed Noah’s but something of an understanding had fallen to Noah. The two of you needed to talk.

So you did, and it went well, so well that you planned a date. Then another one. And another one, until you two had been dating for six months and figured it was time to tell your families. You were shaking in your boots, the Sexton’s were all incredibly close and incredibly doting on Noah, so even though they liked you, you had absolutely no clue as to what the reaction would be. To your relief, it was happiness, they loved you as much as Noah apparently, and they relished in the changed you’d caused in Noah.

Your family, on the other hand, did not react well. Which was why you’d made sure that you told them in a very public place, and had only ordered waters before you told them. There was yelling, screaming, your father waving his arms around so much Antonio had to use his cop voice on him. In the end, you and Noah had been there for around five minutes before throwing some cash at the waitress as a tip for leaving her with your family, and hauling ass out of there. The two of you had ended up just eating pizza on the boardwalk in your fancy clothes and heading back to the apartment late.You both had work the next day, but while you were an intern, Noah was not. And while you were off giving a patient a sponge bath, your siblings cornered Noah at the nurses desk. “Sexton, is there a place the three of us can talk?”

“Uh, sure, this conference room is free...”

“Perfect.”

“So, I take it this is about-”

“Nuh-uh. You do not talk. We do.”

“You are dating our baby sister.”

“We may not be as close to her as you are with your sister, but she still means a lot to us.”

“We love her. We are two people with some pretty dangerous skills. It is for these two reasons that you will not hurt her. Ever.”

“And if you do, don’t forget who I work with.”

“No one will ever find your body.”

“Are we clear?”

“Uh, hmmh... Clear. Crystal clear.”

“Good. Now do you know where Y/N is? We’d like to take the both of you out to lunch or something, just the four of us, to make up for the dinner of many disasters.”

[diegolabhont]

The beginning

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe) 

Pairing: Zoey Wade x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes) & Poppy Mid-Sinclair  x Trans!Male MC  (Beck Hughes)

(Keep reading please, I have an explanation)

Genre: None (in this post, al least)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really.

Tags: @nevermindme-justreading

SO... here´s the thing:

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes) Beck is a trans latin guy, but you´ll see about that as the story takes off. This is just the presentation for the MC. Sorry

Now, about the PAIRING... I, as a writter, didn´t want to loose the opportunity to writte for my Queen Zoey and my other Queen Fic!Poppy (I SWEAR THAT´S NOT BECAUSE SHE´S ASIAN) so I will be using the same character to both, kinda like choices style, kinda. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i´m sorry fo the grammar errors. Also, I don´t live in the US so sorry if it´s a little bit weird.

CHAPTERS

Chapter one 

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

Belvoire University. That´s where they were. During all of those years of hard work and hidden passion for music after heavy and demanding tasks back in the family farm, the last thing Beck Hughes thought would happen to them were getting a full scholarship for a music and composition major in one of the most prestigious institutions all over New York and they were truly, truly grateful. If you ask them, the view in here was too flashy for their simple taste, but they couldn´t complain, after all, they did have one of the best music programs at their disposition.

In the meantime, they were walking through campus feeling oh so in home. The gazes of the students around fixed on them as if Beck was some kind of alien in this glamorous and wealthy world. Beck didn´t care honestly. Too long ago they got used to teasing, to comments behind Beck´s back, to be judged for banal and superficial things. At least nobody was being dangerous. That´s why they walked with confidence and upright posture, feeling the strap of their guitar case dangle across their shoulder through his leather jacket. Maybe that bored and unimpressed expression they put up to pretend was the one to blame for the ruckus, especially when they clearly didn´t belong there, or maybe it was Beck´s second hand clothes, they didn´t know, but all that stopped mattering when their fear to be inside of a school drama came true the moment in which a noisy blonde bumped into their way.

At first they didn´t understand the magnitude of the problem, why was a simple coffee such a big deal? All the blonde girl had to do was move her lazy ass and ask for another one to herself instead of yelling to this poor girl just like a Karen. Yes, it was naïve of Beck to believe that they could interfere to peace the waters; the only thing he got was to bring all the fury from the banshee imitator right at them. Well, at least the first victim looked a bit more relaxed.          

“Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that?!” She yelled “Do you have any idea of who am I?”

No, who cares?

“I´m…”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about who she is. But you should worry about who I am”

Beck heard a voice talking right next to them, but again… Who. Cares? People was staring still; can we all just forget everything or doing a raincheck? Beck snorted with annoyance while turn around to face the new combat player logging in.

“Come on, tag along, shall we? Let’s acknowledge everybody’s name! The guy in the back, who are you? Who are everyone? I totally care!”, he thought for a split second, but their brain stopped working completely to the sight of a stunning and beautiful strawberry blonde standing right in front of them. He didn’t even notice how everyone was deadly quiet.

“Shit, she´s gorgeous…”

“And I’m about to become your first and last memory of Belvoire University”

Aaaand… she ruined it. Beck let out a chuckle, a challenging, mocking smile on his face.

“Is that a threat?”

Please, there was no possible way she could do anything to make them back down. Nothing. It took two steps from Beck to close the distance between them and the strawberry blonde, leaning gracefully to poke fun at the noticeable height difference. The girl didn´t back down neither, accepting the challenge with a murderous, threating look.

“You won’t last a day here”

Oh, that how it´s going to be, I see…

“I'm a trans person in a conservative, religious town… Try me”

Blonde´s face was a poem. The surprise so clearly drawn on her face that they could see exactly how her brain stopped, looking up and down Beck, astonish, processing the information, … “Ow, I broke her” They thought, amused. People were completely eating all up the show, Beck could feel every eye on the interaction, what was going on in this school? Fuck, where did they got into?

“Look, I gotta go. If you find something clever to say, just text me, a ‘right?” Said Beck, very willing to leave.

“Rude!”

Squawked Young Karen.

“Oh, snap. New Dude´s not backing down!” said someone.

They didn´t even care, Beck kept walking without looking back and they would be considerably far if not to a hand clawing back their free shoulder.

“How you dare—!“

“Hey, Beck! Look at the time, we gotta go!”

A girl shows up from nowhere, took his arm and pulled them out of the commotion, running away as if a bear were behind them. Seriously, what the hell? The girl, that finally looked like the danger was gone, stopped right in front of a large and fancy door and slammed her keycard against some kind of sensor.

“Wish the circumstances were different, but welcome to de Winfrey dorm complex, AKA your new home!

She was agitated, naturally, but was until that moment that Beck had the chance to look at her with more detail… Gosh, are really all the ladies here that pretty? What´s in the water? Her hair, her eyes, those lips... She was completely flawless, a breath taking beauty.

Feeling confused and intrigued, Beck stumbled inside looking around in awe. Just a fraction of that room looked even more expensive than their own home!

“So… you are my… counselor or something?” they asked, the gorgeous girl looking too young to be one, though. She then cracked up a smile and a little chuckle.

“Beautiful”

“Starting with the wrong foot here and there, don´t you?” She grinned back to they and all the things Beck could feel was embarrassment and a beating heart making heat on their face. “You got out of that one alive. Barely.” She said, looking concerned once again, the laughing disappeared from those cute eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly… You´re gorgeous” A slight blush appeared on her cheeks, alarming Beck.

“Did I just…”

“…Is what I was thinking, but did I just say it out loud?” I hate me, I hate me, I hate me…

“You did, and you´re absolutely, positively right. I´m Zoey Wade, your roomie…”

Oh, so she has a name… wait a minute…

“You´re my roomie?” Beck asked taken aback, what does this means? They felt restless, kind of anxious. It´s this even allowed or the school was acting based on...

Zoey seemed to understand the internal fight in their mind because she immediately clarified.

“You don´t have to worry, this kind of dorms tend to be mixed so it´s kinda normal. Besides I check your info on The T and I saw you were LGBT+ so I´m not feeling…”

“My what?” That´s where she realized.

“Oh! Right… Ok, I´ll make it simple. Here there is a whole system here based on reputation.” Zoey took her phone and showed Beck a long numbered list.  Number one and on the top were the same girl they encounter earlier: Poppy Min-Sinclair was there, showing a radiant and flashy perfect smile, next was the banshee named Chloe St James, people, people, people, and low, low into the very bottom, was Beck Hughes… Or we most say “Newbie” Hughes. 

“Y´see... you are the new addition and The T´s been all over you. Specially because… well…” She looked reluctant to say it, but it wasn´t actually bad to Beck. They were used to.

“I don´t belong. Got it”

Beck let the guitar case on the floor, right next to the couch, walking around to see their new place, feeling Zoey´s eyes on them all the time.

“I don’t really care, I came here to have a good time and enjoying my music” and to save my life, basically. “So… mind if you show me some fun?” Said Beck, a little flirty. They were a little insecure, taking their chances… New town, new life, right? The seductive smirk they got back relaxed them a little bit more.

“Oh, Beck… I think we will be getting along just fine.”

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 25 (Orange)

Summary: Well... when Bo fucks up, she really fucks up, Luckily, CVS is open 24/7. Even luckier, Alistair’s coming with her. How hard could it be to get some damn pink hair dye anyway?

---

There was nothing like the Normandy needing some repair work done that made him appreciate down time.

“You like that, Saren? I got it from your favorite place as a little surprise while I was out getting supplies for everyone.”

The small, round ball of fur continued to shove his food into his bulging cheeks. He was going a little faster than usual of course – that's what happened when he got his favorite snacks – but soon it would all be stored away for later. Until then, he would continue to look absolutely adorable as he sat in his enclosure.

Alistair had picked up more food and bedding for the hamster while he was out, along with a few chew toys and a new hide. Maybe he was spoiling Saren, but... well, why not? Space hamsters may have lived longer than their Earth counterparts, but they still maxed out at 10. They hadn't been sure how old   he was, so... why not make every day count?

Besides, he had pissed on Miranda. That made him a hero.

“It was really busy at the shop when I popped in today. I guess word got out that I go there.” He chuckled as he watched his hamster finish stuffing himself silly. “All full? You look like a little beach ball, Sar.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore he saw Saren's cheeks puff out in indignation.  At any rate, he was soon tunneling into his bedding, to wherever he was storing his food in this cage layout. Alistair would find the remains eventually when he cleaned. It was kind of like one of the weirdest treasure hunts he had ever taken part in...

“Well, bye I guess.”

He shrugged his shoulders and started to return to his desk. However. A beeping from his omni-tool drew the Spectre's attention. There was a message there from Bo – fucked my omni-tool again, might have water damage. Fix?

Oh great... water damage.

“She's lucky I got some extra parts when I went shopping.” Alistair shook his head as he grabbed his tool box and jacket. “Saren, watch the room while I'm gone. If you see anyone from Cerberus sneaking around, you know what to do.”

That was of course look cute to entice them in, then bite the shit out of them. It was a good plan, and Saren executed it like a pro. That's why he always felt a little better when he left to go on missions. How could he not when he had his own personal attack hamster?

Bo hadn't said where she was, but he knew her enough that he stopped by the crew floor to find the XO office. The door was open, so he nudged it open and stepped through. There was water running – was she showering?

Well, good to know she trusted him.

“It's on the desk!” Her voice called out over the water. “Did Saren like the snacks you got?”

Alistair settled into his CO's desk in order to fix her very water-logged omni-tool. He cocked his eyebrow as he examined it further. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but parts of the band looked to be faded to almost white. A smell test confirmed it as he shook his head. Luckily, he had a replacement band in her size.

“Yeah. Did you forget to take this off when you were bleaching your roots though?”

Bo shut the water off – must've been done rinsing. “Some of it dripped while I was working.”

Of course it did. Alistair resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he pulled the stained band off. After that, it was simple diagnostic and replacement. Apart from the soldering of some replacement bits around the screen, he could've done it in his sleep. Luckily, he was awake so that made it go much faster.

He hummed to himself as he worked. “No big deal, I figured you'd need a new one eventually so I picked one up.”

“Gotta love a well-stocked tech.” Bo sounded like she was shifting around. Then she stopped moving. “Aw fuck...”

Alistair cocked his eyebrow as he put the omni-tool down briefly. “Everything alright in there?”

His XO didn't answer. From the sounds of things, she was getting dressed. At least he knew she hadn't fallen or anything, but her silence was a little concerning. However, going into the bathroom was a bad idea, so he was left waiting on the other side.

“Bo?”

Two red eyes were soon on him. “We're going to have to go back to CVS.”

At first, he started to open his mouth to ask why. That question was answered for him as Bo came into view,  adjusting her shirt as she walked. She had indeed finished bleaching her roots and touching up the color but...

Well, that wasn't pink. In fact, it was pretty damn fucking orange.

She shot him a look that definitely could've killed. “Well, get it over with.”

Alistair returned the omni-tool to his toolbox for later and started patching up details for returning to the dock. “Well... let's be honest, ginger's better on me than you. You can fix that at least, right?”

After all, there was only one redheaded Shepard on the Normandy, and he was under 6 feet tall. Besides, pink really was more her color anyway. He may have been an utter failure when it came to fashion, but at least he sometimes knew basic color theory.

Sometimes, anyway... he still didn't see why he couldn't wear neon blue sneakers with green laces.

“Yeah, just go already.” her hood was already up over the nightmare. “Before anyone really starts making Shepard siblings jokes.”

Perish the thought...

---

“Have I mentioned how much I hate C-SEC?”

“Many, many times.”

Alistair could feel a dull headache throbbing at the base of his implant as he and Bo finally cleared security. For some reason, flying in on the fucking Normandy always attracted some measure of attention. He wouldn't have minded, but they were kind of on a tight schedule.

Bo still had her hood up as they walked. “I swear I checked that damn box before I bought it, how the fuck did this happen?”

“You're asking the wrong guy, maybe the manufacturer mixed up the packages or something.” He shrugged. “I'll check it out later once we get back.”

Hell, maybe a low blood sugar had caused it. Bo might not have been as sensitive to biotic-induced hypoglycemia as he was, but there were times she still got it. For all he knew, this could have been a hypo fuck up. Of course, he'd never suggest that – that was just insult to injury.

What could he say, he was a paragon of virtue like that. Though, maybe he should consider adding a CGM to her omni-tool when he got back...

At least the CVS didn't look too busy from the outside. The parking lot looked pretty empty, but that was probably due to the time. Even the Citadel had slow periods between shifts after all – people had to sleep and eat sometime. It was just a stroke of luck they hit it when they did.

What wasn't so lucky was the guy Bo all but body checked as she entered the store.

Alistair opened his mouth to apologize, but he didn't get the chance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone coming. His reflexes kicked in, and soon a glowing blue barrier was erected around whatever was moving towards him. A shot ricocheted, and then they were down on the ground with a hole in their leg.

Huh. Now why would two guys in dark masks with guns be in a CVS? And why did the few people in there look like they had just seen a ghost?

“Oh, thank God. I thought - “ The clerk paused, realizing who was standing over her would-be robbers as if they did this every day – which, to be fair, they kind of did. It was just usually in armor. “Wait... are you Commander Shepard?”

Alistair was already checking vitals through the barrier. “Yeah. Bo, go get your stuff. I'll handle these two until C-SEC shows up.”

Their gear and weapons were honestly nothing special, and their plan seemed laughable at best. It was just their luck they had run into amateur hour at thievery school. Well, no doubt they had both earned scholarships to clown college for their boneheaded stunts.

At least the bullet wound didn't look like it had broken anything vital. He'd be able to stand trial for sure at this rate.

“Fuck...” Yeah, his sentiments exactly. “How'd you find us?”

Bo appeared from the aisle, carrying the correct box under her arm. With her hood still up, she slid it over the counter. “We walked in. Can I buy this now, or does C-SEC need to count the total?”

“Oh, they didn't get the chance to take anything! You two showed up just as soon as they drew their guns!” There were stars in the clerk's eyes as she ran Bo up. “I don't know how to thank you, I thought I was going to get shot!”

Alistair's medigel applicator dinged as it dispensed the appropriate dose for the would-be robber still trapped in his barrier. It would hold until he got proper medical attention with C-SEC. With that done, he checked on the other genius. He was still on the floor, groaning.

No surprises there – it was hard to take a full body check from Bo “The Pink Monster” Shepard and  make it out without anything broken. Definitely had at least some kind of concussion if the unfocused vision was anything to go by.

Well, at least he didn't crack his skull. Those were messy.

“I doubt they would've hit, their aim was terrible.” Bo accepted her bag just as the C-SEC sirens announced their arrival. “Well, took them long enough.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Al, mind handling them? I'm gonna get back to the Normandy.”

Normally, this was the part where a commanding officer would have totally pulled rank and made his XO stay. After all, he hated dealing with C-SEC as much as anyone did. However, unlike most CO's, he wasn't a total asshole. That he saved for people who deserved it.

“Yeah, hurry up before they realize it's you.”

Bo actually passed two C-SEC officers on her way out, hood pulled low. Alistair shook his head as he straightened up. His hands still felt sticky from the medigel, but there wasn't much he could do about that at the moment.

At least there were no news cameras.

“Stop right-” A turian with purple tattoos lowered her gun. “Commander Shepard?”

He responded with an awkward wave that highlighted the sticky residue from the medigel. At least nobody could blame him for the gunshot – for once he wasn't armed, even though his Spectre status gave him that permission. Who needed to bring a gun into CVS anyway, except idiots like the ones on the floor? “Wrong place, right time. These two need medical attention, but I think they'll be ok. Their pride, not so much, but I can't fix that.”

That dull headache promised to get worse with the incredulous looks he was getting from the officers. Alistair could only hope that the store's cameras were working, otherwise they were going to have to interview him. And oh, he hated going down to the C-SEC offices more than pretty much everything except the Illusive Man, low blood sugar, and the sound of his own voice.

Bo better thank him for this one later... hopefully when her hair was back to pink. Again, orange really was more of his color. Chalk it up to the Irish genes and all.

“So... guess you want to have a chat then?”

Why did he even ask... fuck. He should've stayed in his room with Saren.

[trex98dreams]

Chapter 8: Remember?

3 Days Later.

Y/N’s POV

Surprisingly, a few days after that conversation, my friends stop talking about Jimin and to my relief, he didn't follow me around campus anymore. Even a glimpse of him is unseen. I'm back in my normal life without him again.

Today, Me, Youngji and Dahyun were heading to Hanbin's dorm where he had invited us over for barbecue. It wasn't a surprised because Hanbin told us he wanted to prepare something special for Dahyun. So cheesy. I cringe at the idea of a romantic Hanbin.

As we arrived, i can see Jackson and Hanbin in the kitchen, nervously fidgeting as we arrive. There's no barbecue feelings here at all. Not even a food or drink. Youngji and Dahyun went to the kitchen and begin to do something but stopped as i watched them.

"Hey Hanbin, where's the beef?" I ask him.

Hanbin laugh nervously, "Oh..! I forgot to but it, i'm going to buy some at the market, who wants to go?" He asks and they all raise their hands. I happily followed them but Jackson stops me.

"Huh? What?" I ask. Why are they acting so weird?

"You. Stay. Someone needs to fire.. urm.. the charcoal.. yeah." Jackson stutters. I frowns.

"I can smell something fishy..." i said but Youngji and Dahyun laugh it off.

"Nothing's fishy okay! Go! We'll be back before you know it!" They said and push Jackson and Hanbin outside.

I sigh and went to the kitchen alone. I opened the fridge to get something to eat but i stopped as i heard footsteps.

I closed the fridge and immediately felt my heart beats faster at the sight in front of me.

Standing in front of me was Jimin, staring straight into my eyes with a sad expression. I walk pass him swiftly but he didn't stop me this time. Instead, he let me slip away just like that.

I twisted the door knob a few times but it was locked. Great. I was being locked in here with Jimin by my friends. Now it makes perfect sense why there's no beef. Curse them.

"Open this damn door right now!"

I yelled and when there's no response, I stand leaning at the door frame not wanting to face him. I mentally told myself 'don't look at him' a few times in my mind when i heard his footsteps slowly behind me.

"It's all my idea. Don't blame them. They gave me 10 minutes to meet you," He softly said behind me.

That voice. My best friend's voice. Except it's not him anymore.

"Y/N, please.. listen to me.. stop running away.." he pleads but i stayed quiet. That's when he softly held my shoulder which makes me immediately jerked away.

"10 minutes. Just say what you want so i can get the hell out of here." He tense at my tone.

He went silent for a moment before he continues.

"Y/N, i know i promise you a lot of things, to always be there for you, to protect you no matter what, and to keep our friends-"

"Stop reminding me all those. Just go on with what you're saying." I cut him harshly. He sigh deeply hearing my voice. This time he went closer to me. I can feel his hot breath on my ear.

He took a deep breath.

"Y/N, a year after we fought, I found out the truth. That you weren't the one who texted Seulgi's mom about us, it was Seolhyun all along. Sungjae had confessed to me about him telling Seolhyun everything about us, after Joy walked in on him cheating."

"He told me that Seolhyun use your phone that day, saying her's were missing and took a chance to text Seulgi's Mom when you're not looking. He also revealed that she was the one who took our picture when we were on a date. Sungjae shows me his conversation with Seolhyun about her plan."

I stayed silent. If he told me earlier when we're still friends, i would easily laugh at him and comfort him saying 'That son of a bitch!' Or an 'I told you so'. But what's left for me to say is nothing. The damage has been done. The wounds he gave had already turned into a scar. It's slowly healing when he decided to show up again.

I didn't say anything. I'm afraid if i do, i won't be able to control my emotions. Jimin huffs softly behind me and continues.

"I'm so sorry Y/N. Gosh i feel like a total shit all these years for not believing my own best friend. I was too.. young, too immature and too foolish to understand what our friendship means and i know I've cross the limit when i say those words. It still haunts me everyday Y/N. It still do,"

"And to think that i'm the one who hurt you, it hurts me more. I try calling you, but you changed your number. I went to your house to apologize but you're family had moved and i heard about your scholarship. I try reaching for your friends but the only one you're friends with during high school were Youngji and she've moved too. I try everything Y/N but I failed. I was devastated. I lost you when you were out of my reach." He explained everything to me.

I closed my eyes. "It's been some painful years, Y/N. I'm devastated with my own self. I shouldn't have said those words to you. I don't know what came over me that day, but i know i didn't mean any of it, trust me. Even when i showed up here, i don't even know if facing you were a right thing to do because i was so embarrassed of myself." He slowly confess.

"Would've been better if you didn't show up at all," I muttered yet he can still hears it.

The awkward silence can be feel in the air as minutes pass by.

"Y/N, look at me.. please." He pleads. Jimin begins to grip my shoulder gently but I refuse.

"Y/N, Look at me." He asks again.

I gather all my courage to finally look at him properly and as we both look into each other's eyes after all these years, we were both on the verge of tears.

Jimin never cry, not in front of me at least. Wet tears streaming down both of our faces. That's when i gave up. I had held it too long. I can't take it anymore. I had to let it out.

I push him away.

"Why Jimin, Why? Why do you doubt our friendship?? You know if you said one word of apology that time i would immediately forget the whole situation but you said people like me..? It hurts me so much Jimin! So fucking much!"

"Your words cuts me real deep Jimin. You said yourself our friendship is a mistake isn't it? On top of that you insulted me! You believe their words, but not mine.. what kind of friend are you?" I ask him sharply. At this state, he's crying at my words.

"I know Y/N, I know... but please.. listen to me, i didn't mean what i said that time, i-" he said but i cut him off.

"Everybody said what they mean when they're angry Jimin. We all knew that. But you? Do you really think that low of me?? Or is that what you always think about me? That i'm using you for your money because i'm not as rich as you are, or as Seul-" i was startled when Jimin grip my wrist. The pain was reopening. I didn't notice i was crying too.

He explains. "Y/N, This is not about them. This is about us. I don't care about them anymore. I care about our friendship. I spent years reflecting what i did. I appreciate you, just as much as you appreciate me...please.." he pleads me again. I huffs in disbelief. The tears were still in our eyes. I wanted to hurt him like he did to me.

"I don't need your consideration and your caring stuff and i certainly don't need YOU to tell me what to do," I use his words when he looks at me painfully.

"Y/N.. stop-"

He knew what i'm trying to do.

"I think you should go, you ruined everything in my life. We should never be friends. I hate you." I murmurs despite it's painful to said it out loud but I want him to remember.

"Y/N, stop it-"

He warns me and then i hit the end. The end that make my tears spill a lot more.

"I would choose Seulgi any day over you."

"Stop! Stop it Y/N! Don't say it again... please.." He sobs then he knelt down and took my hand. He looks so fragile.. like he could break any second.

"Do you think about how i feel when you say that? Do you know how broken i am? Do you know that 'hate' is a strong word?" I asks him again and again not hiding my tears anymore. He didn't say anything afterwards. Just tearing in front of me.

"I hate you Jimin. I really do." I told him as i tried to release his grip on my hand.

He paused and stares at me.

"You.... hate me?"

I didn't look at him.

He inhale an amount of oxygen.

"Please don't say that Y/N, please. I know I'm a jerk... an idiot, a bastard for doing that to you. I know whatever i say will never mend your heart or our friendship like it used to but that's why i'm here Y/N." He said.

"Do it Y/N. Hit me. Kick me. Punch me. Do whatever you want to me. Hurt me physically because i will never know how you felt when i hurt you inside but i know it will never be enough. Just, please.... don't hate me. Please don't say that because i have live with so many hatred towards myself after i hurt you. I can't bare if you hate me too," he cried.

"Do it Y/N. Let me feel pain. I deserve it. Hit me please. Punch me till i bleed. I don't care. Hurt me as much as you want." He begs and i melt down at the sight.

Jimin was kneeling, begging for me to not hate him, crying in a weak state pleading me to punch him. He's not the arrogant Jimin. He's the vulnerable one. I softened as I see Jimin had changed. Maybe he did realize what he did to me was wrong. Maybe all these years, Jimin took the blame on himself. I don't want to hurt him. I have learn to let the grudges go, even if it's hard.

"Get up Jimin. Don't do this. I don't want to hurt you." I said softly. He shook his head, eyes on the ground. I pulled him up and he stares at me, eyes still red from crying too much. He wipes my tears with his hand and gently stroke my cheeks.

"Don't cry.. please.. i'm sorry Y/N. Please forgive me. I'm sorry for being such an asshole to you. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for everything i said. I'm sorry for not being there for you during graduation. I'm terribly sorry for being the worst best friend in the world." He spoke in a gentle tone looking deeply into my eyes.

I wiped my tears and he hugged me. In that sudden moment, i realize, i miss my best friend. I miss his scent, his everything. It would be a lie if i say i don't want our friendship anymore but i can't just take him back. We stayed like that for a long time and Jimin seems as if he doesn't want to let go.

"I'll try forgiving you Jimin," i whispers slowly. He smiles and hugged me tightly. When he unhugged me, i continued.

"But i will never forget. I can't promise you i'll be forgiving you wholly and we're going to be like we used to, but i'll try. And you just can't expect me to give you a second chance, you have to earned it." I said. He smiles and this time it's a happy one.

"Thank you Y/N. Thank you so much. Don't worry, i'll prove you i'm worth to be forgiven. I'm worth to be your best friend again. This time i'll make it right." He smiles showing his cute chubby cheeks.

...

I woke up at the sound of Jackson and Hanbin's shrieks when i realize i had fallen asleep at Hanbin's couch with Jimin's shoulder as my pillow. Jackson took a picture and i kick his leg making him yell in pain.

"Congratulation! You're friends again, i'm taking this picture so the moment will last longer," he said to us. Youngji and Dahyun smiles warmly at me, relief that everything's over. Jimin woke up and look at me with smiling eyes.

I quickly got up and repair my shirt. "Urmm.. sorry," i mumbled to Jimin. "It's okay, you always use my shoulder as your pillow," he smiles. I quickly pulls Hanbin and Jackson's ears because they locked me in.

I look at my watch. The sun is almost down by now.

"So... see you guys tomorrow, i'll be heading home now," i said and heads to the door.

They laugh seeing me flustered. Jimin had offer to send me home but i'm not ready to show him my apartment yet because this friendship thing is too early. He frown but still, he's happy.

Before i go, he stares at me on the doorstep. I look at him wondering what he wanted to say.

"Will i see you tomorrow too Y/N?" He asks curiously.

I give him a small smile.

"Urmm yeah.. maybe you will."

...

2 days later.

We sat in the cafeteria and Jimin had joined us comfortably today. He was so happy on the fact that we were friends again.

"Do you want to eat anything Y/N? my treat," He ask me, a bit hesitant and bold because this friendship is still fresh. I look at him.

"It's okay Chim- I mean Jimin," i stutters.

He smiles widely. "I haven't heard anyone call me Chimchim in ages." I ate my food silently but my friends laugh at our awkwardness when we notice a few girls were whispering behind us.

"Whoa.. whose that sexy thing? Isn't he new? Why is he seating over there when he can sit here with us?" She whispers but i can clearly hear her jealous tone but i don't care. I'm used to people saying this when Jimin and i went recess during high school.

But that time, Jimin enjoys the spotlight and he didn't say anything. But this time, he did.

"Because i'm her best friend so if you mind, we're taking a decent lunch right now, so please be quiet." He told them and they shut it. I smirk. Jackson and Hanbin laughed, high-fiving him. He's really taking our friendship seriously this time.

We were finishing our lunch before we went to our next class session when the girl behind us whispers again.

"And who is 'that' cute hottie? Why is there so many hot new students here??" She squeaks and we all giggles looking at their direction.

We look at the strange cute guy who were wondering around the cafeteria, probably confused as hell to where his class was when i spotted him staring down at me.

He looks familiar... somewhere..

Like from an old memory...

...

...

...

And It hits me.

I look at Youngji, and she look back at me. We both knew what this look is. The 'oh-my-god-he-still-exists-look.' My eyes widened. No wonder he stares at me.

My first love, my first crush, my first heartbreak.

Jeon Jungkook.

🍡

[reddieandgoodnight]

Can we get a part two? for #12, when they broke up in highschool but came back. (Reddie)

Yes, anon, you may! Sorry for the wait on this! Hope you like it! :)

 Tried to tag everyone who asked me about a sequel. I’m sorry if I missed anyone! @constantreaderfool, @girasol-eddie, @tinyarmedtrex, @anellope, @wiersel, @roobarrtrashmouth

Part 2 of this 

Eddie gazes down at his hands, clutched together on top of the table. He feels more than sees Richie sitting across from him — Richie’s presence has always been huge to him, taking up space in the air in a way no one else ever has.

They’re sitting in the back room of the coffee shop at the table where the baristas take their breaks. Eddie knows he could have asked Richie to come over to his house, but…that felt too personal, too much after all these years — no matter how many times Richie had been in that same house before.

Richie hadn’t batted an eye when Eddie steered him into the back room, so maybe he had the same thoughts — or was at least aware enough of how vulnerable Eddie felt with having Richie suddenly show up like this after no calls, no emails, no nothing after ten years.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about what to say to you for so long,” Richie says after a few minutes. Then stops.

“I’ve thought about it, too,” Eddie admits quietly.

“Eddie, I’m really sorry,” Richie continues, toying with a ring on one of his fingers. “I know I already said that…but I can’t say it enough.”

Eddie gives a small nod. “I guess I just…still don’t understand. I thought…” He sighs. “I thought we were happy. I thought you were happy. But…I guess you weren’t.”

“I was happy,” Richie says.

Eddie can’t stop a snort from escaping him. “Right. So happy, you broke up with me and then didn’t talk to me for ten years.”

Richie looks chastened by that. He lets out a breath, laying his hands flat on the table across from Eddie. “I promise, Eds — Eddie.” He corrects himself quickly. “When I said it wasn’t you, I meant it.”

“Then what was it?” Eddie asks, hating the heaviness rising in his heart. He’s asked himself this question so many times, wondering what he could have done, what he could have said to make Richie stay. 

And he’s imagined so many different answers, he’s almost afraid to hear what Richie has to say. “I just… I don’t understand,” he whispers.

Richie’s eyes close, brows drawn low. “You got that psychology scholarship.”

“I thought that was a good thing?” Eddie says, the statement coming out as a question laced with the confusion rising inside him.

“It was a fucking amazing thing,” Richie agrees earnestly. “You were the youngest person to get it. But I just…” He trails off, hesitating for so long, Eddie hears the clock strike eight behind them.

“You worked so hard to get into NYU,” Richie finally continues. “You were busting your ass every single day. And then you got that scholarship — which you deserved so fucking much. You were finally getting out of here, out of Derry. Away from your bitch of a mom. And I just… I couldn’t match that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie says, bewildered.

“Look, you were going places. Have gone places.” Richie stops, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want to hold you back. It was better for you to…focus on what you were doing.”

Eddie gapes at Richie. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Eds —”

“No!” Eddie snaps, pushing away from the table and jumping to his feet. “You broke up with me because you — what? You thought you were helping me? Or something? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” He takes a few deep breaths, hating the angry tears pricking at his eyes. “Well, I hope you’re happy. Because you fucking wrecked me, you asshole.”

Richie stares up at Eddie with wide eyes, but he says nothing as Eddie rages on.

“Do you think I was happy and perfectly able to focus on my work when I went to school? No! Because I was thinking about you, you absolute idiot!”

Richie jerks back at Eddie’s words.

“That just isn’t fair, Rich,” Eddie says, voice getting a bit wobbly. “That’s just… That’s not fair. I thought…” His voice drops to a whisper as a few stray tears run down his cheeks. “I thought you hated me.”

“Eddie, no,” Richie murmurs, standing and looking like he’s about to reach out to Eddie.

But Eddie wraps his arms around himself, utterly miserable as he takes a step back. He doesn’t think he can take Richie touching him, not if he doesn’t want to break into a million pieces.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Eddie asks, wiping at his cheeks with shaking hands. “You broke up with me out of fucking nowhere. Richie, I… I loved you.”

Tears are welling in Richie’s eyes. “I loved you, too.”

“Jesus, Richie,” Eddie murmurs, letting out a short laugh that isn’t really laugh at all. “You’re the one who made me realize I was even gay. I gave my virginity to you. All the first times — you got every one of them. How could you even think I wouldn’t want you right next to me?”

“Because I’m fucking stupid,” Richie mutters, voice breaking.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about any of this?’ Eddie says, shaking his head. “You just fucking left me standing in the road. And then you went to California and you — You never even picked up a goddamn phone.”

“I didn’t have your number,” Richie whispers.

Eddie scoffs. “Seriously, Rich? Any of our friends would have given to you. Even Bill — and he said you could go to hell.”

Richie’s lips turn up just a little at that. “That’s fair.” A pause. “I wanted to call you, so many times. But I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk to me — and why would you? And then so much time went by… I thought it was better to leave you alone. Let you get on with your life.”

“Then why did you come back now?” Eddie murmurs. “Was it really for the album?”

Richie looks at him, and Eddie thinks he can fall right into those brown eyes.

“There’s no album,” Richie says.

Eddie blinks. “…what?”

“The band is taking a break. And they all got sick of me…whining about this boy I used to know. Told me to do something about it. And I finally decided to listen.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Listening isn’t your strong point,” he blurts without thinking.

He doesn’t step back this time when Richie tentatively moves closer to him.

“I really fucked up,” Richie continues, voice low. “And I don’t… I don’t expect you to forgive me. I really don’t. But I… I’d like to try to maybe fix things, at least a little bit. If I can.”

Eddie lets out a slow exhale as Richie reaches out and gently takes Eddie’s hands in his, hold loose enough that Eddie could easily escape.

He can’t help but think about how long it’s been since he’s felt Richie’s hands in his — the hands he used to hold every day. They’re still a little bigger than Eddie’s, long-fingered and warm.

Eddie finds his fingers tightening around Richie’s.

And Richie’s do the same in return.

It’s quiet for several moments outside of their breathing. But…it isn’t a bad silence.

“It’s…it’s been a long time,” Eddie says at length. “I’m not the same person I was when I graduated high school. And I know you aren’t, either.”

“No,” Richie agrees. “And I know I don’t deserve it, but… I’d like to get to know Eddie Kaspbrak again. If he’ll let me.” He gives Eddie the tiniest, timid smile.

Eddie lets out a trembling breath, heart beating so fast, he wonders if Richie can hear it.

All the horrid pain Richie caused him is still there, buried deep inside him, clawing at him whenever he draws too near to old memories. And having Richie in front of him now, asking for another chance, hasn’t taken it away — hasn’t removed all the nights he spent sobbing into his pillow, wondering what he did to make Richie not want him anymore. Nights spent realizing that heartbreak isn’t just a word — it’s something that destroys you from the inside out, leaving you with the taste of ash in your mouth and a loneliness so deep, it burns.

But now…it feels like maybe those things can maybe go away someday. Maybe he can heal, just a little.

“Okay,” he whispers.

And oh, it seems his battered heart hasn’t completely forgotten that feeling of lightness Richie’s answering smiles always used to give him.

“Um, do you want to go back to my house?” he asks softly. “To…talk?”

“I’d like that,” Richie says.

And when Richie slowly and very tentatively presses the softest kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth, Eddie doesn’t pull away.

He still hasn’t forgiven Richie. Isn’t ready to jump headfirst into…whatever this is. Not yet. But even so…

Richie’s lips against his skin still feel like home.

[grizztomysam]

Grizzam College Song Fic AU Preview : Mumford & Sons - If I Say

Angst galore and homophobic slurs present...so just forwarned....

===================

Grizz and Sam finally establish a friendship after being partnered in English class during the start of Grizz’s senior year. Although it skirts the borders of what is deemed platonic. Shared glances after inside jokes are exchanged linger a little too long, accidental and not so accidental touches result in hitched breaths and Grizz preens a little to much whenever Sam looks at his lips when he’s speaking.

Months pass, the duo get considerably closer and Grizz scraps his initial plan to come out in college. 

He’s fallen in love, it’s no longer a crush. 

He’ll tell Sam his true feelings after their last game for the season and ask Sam to prom.

The night before this was to happen, Grizz is over at Sam’s studying for midterms. Sam says a particularity witty quip to something Grizz can’t even remember but he’s laughing and crying and Sam has somehow straddled him tickling his sides making him laugh harder. And he can’t hold back any longer, flips them both and kisses Sam likes he’s always wanted to. Since the first time he’d glimpsed the blued eyed boy when he was 12. 

There too caught up in the moment to see the figure watching and recording from the slit in Sam’s slightly opened bedroom door.

Before Grizz leaves he makes sure Sam will be coming to the game. 

“Of course, it’s your last” Sam’s lips are especially red and so inviting. Grizz wants so bad to kiss him again.

“I have something to tell you.”

“So secretive” Sam signs with a soft smirk, eyes shining.

Grizz just smiles back, kisses him gently on the cheek and leaves.

But life’s a bitch. Somehow adverse to letting people be....happy.

Campbell comes into his room a while later, he’s still on cloud nine and can’t seem to fall asleep. But the look on his brother’s face...his eyes have a calculated quiet to them, stark and garish juxtaposition to the smile on his lips, has Sam sitting, nerves electric and hackles up.

“Stay away from Visser, Fag.” He says this without preamble. Says it as if he’s telling his little brother goodnight and not to let the bed bugs bite.

“Why?” He’s learned to speak in controlled tones, volume steady and low. That’s how you speak to a rabid dog, muscle tensed and ready to pounce.

“Because the boy’s got a bright future. Football scholarship and all. Wouldn’t want to be the reason that gets taken away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh Sam, you sure are daft. Let me talk in laymen’s terms. You break this abomination of a relationship you have with Grizz. And I’ll make sure William behaves tomorrow night.”

“Who the fuck is William.” The creeping dread that’s got the hair on his nape standing dissolves his resolve.

“Tsk Tsk, language, Samuel.....You see William is a boy that happens to love the little pills I give him every other week. Can’t get enough of them. He also happens to be on the opposing team playing against Visser tomorrow. A defensive linebacker...big massive boy. One word from me. I don’t know...something about not having anymore of his favorite pills unless he does something to Grizz Visser during game night. Nothing big. A broken arm...leg.”

“I hate you!” He doesn't so much scream it but breath it from every hurting vein in his body. 

Because he hates Campbell. With the very fiber of his being he wants to take something sharp and stab it into the jugular of his brother’s neck. Watch him bleed out until there is nothing left but a sunken shell.

“I know...Do what’s right.” He leaves, an almost pitying look on his face, as if this was something out of his control.

“Why...”

He turns back to look...blinks with empty eyes and smiles. “Because I can, little brother.”

Sam doesn’t sleep that night. Gets sick twice at 4 in the morning. Cries silent  wracking sobs as he grips the rim of the toilet bowl. 

He manages to avoid Grizz during the day. Ignores the texts that pile up. Skips the one class they have together after feigning a stomach ache. Even tho it really wasn't’ pretend.

He arrives home and finally texts back “Sorry ate something weird after you left last...night spent most of the day at the nurses office..I’ll see you at the game tonight”

The answer text is immediate “Awe..I could have kept you company...I can’t wait to see you.”

It leaves a tightness in his throat, so he closes his eyes and tries to disappear into the nothingness for a while. Tries not to feel.

He sends a text asking Grizz to meet him under the bleachers before the game, arrives an hour before to make sure there’s plenty of time for Grizz to sneak away and see him. 

He can almost feel the eagerness from Grizz’s text. Pictures his face, all bright eyed, nose scrunched in that adorable Grizz way, eyes crinkled at the corners with a grin.

Sure no problem. I missed you all day.

He wants to run away, far where no one can hear him and he can scream until his lungs burn out and his eyes no longer know how to cry. 

Grizz is waiting for him, decked out in his football uniform, hair in that topknot that drives him crazy. He’s all anxious energy and beauty. Sam has to look down pretending to pick at lint from his sweatshirt. Blinks hard and steels himself.

“Hey, you ok?” Grizz has ambled forward from his lean against the wall, eyes concerned, arms offered to hold.

Grizz is going to see right through this whole thing.

He walks pass him and leans against the opposite wall. The worry on Grizz’s face cuts at his heart with a blunt knife.

“You sad?...Last game and all.” He’s stalling but his mind is blank.

Grizz doesn’t push and walks towards him. So close that if he looks up from his gaze that’s now level with Grizz’s chest, all he’d have to do for a kiss was rise up slight on his toes because Grizz has leaned down tilting his chin up.

“I was going to wait until after, but I really want to kiss you right now and I need to say this first.” And Sam is crying because life is fucking unfair.

‘I love--”

“Stop....you don’t” he signs and sobs,  pushing the older boy away. 

Grizz stands steady, grabbing his face, confusion laced with an unease that has Grizz frantically searching his eyes.

“Sam--what is this?...Last night--” 

“Exactly...last night. Was a mistake.” He won’t look Grizz in the eye, instead focusing on his lips

“No!! It wasn’t!”

“Yes...this thing can’t happen. You don’t want me like that..feel for me like that. You think you do but you’ll wake up tomorrow..or few days later and realize all this won’t be worth it.”

Grizz roughly shakes his head at the words, forcing Sam to look him in the eye, hands firm but gentle as they wipe his tears away.

“No” It’s a sharp exhaled declaration,” I’m been feeling this for a while now. And I know you feel the same way--”

“Don’t you dare! You’re telling me how I feel now? What? Because your Grizz Visser?? Star football player..who fucking quotes shit like your from the dead poet’s society. Got girls practically salivating to get you to look at them. And me..the fucking gay deaf kid. Poor little Sam Eliot. You must think I’m so desperate. Pathetic enough to jump at the chance to have a piece of you..huh??  I’m probably some pet project...check off your box for humanitarian electives.”

Grizz stays quiet, frozen shock but visibly flinches at the words that are hurled in a slurred deluge from Sam’s mouth.

“News flash, Grizz, this might be a shocker, rejection is probably a foreign concept but I. Don’t. Want. You!!” he spits it out, tries to sign with trembling fingers that wish to rip Campbell from limb to limb.

He wants to wash his mouth out with bleach.

“This isn’t you..I don’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth.” It’s a whispered sentiment as Grizz drops his hands from his cheek, into balled fists by his side and the sudden emptiness in Grizz’s wet gaze is starting to scare Sam.

But he loves Grizz. 

Fuck.

He really really does. And he’ll hurt Grizz first before Campbell can touch him.

And Campbell hurting Grizz scares him more.

“Stay the fuck away from me.”

He leaves without looking back. 

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

If I say I love you, then I love you

====================================================

This song hurts my insides so good...and le ideas came about. Please listen to this song if you want your heart ripped out and tap danced on. 

Just a taste people..got legit concrete ideas of how i want to finish this...So let me know if ya want more. 

[hclles-blog]

hey guys ! this has been sitting in drafts for at least a day now, but trust me when i say i’m as excited as i was when typing this fucking monster of an intro SDKFGJKFD but i’m jules, kard and clc supremacist and a struggling student about to apply to the english faculty of my uni ! like i said, this is a super long intro, so get settled as i introduce asteria’s resident skating brat halle, a bitch who overworks and doesn’t know how to chill long-term !! stats page is HERE for your reading pleasure, extensive plots and an extra list of options are linked accordingly !

jeon somin, cis female, she/her. — have you seen ( hyunmi “halle” chae ) around ( hecate ) ? they’re a ( twenty-two ) year old ( senior ) who’s majoring in ( kinesiology. ) i know they’re busy with ( dance club, women’s volleyball, and kappa delta sorority ), but you should tell them to check their latest starred rating ! ( jules, 21, she/her, gmt-3:30. )

honestly she is.. fucked sgjfsgdkl

this is mostly a carbon copy of an intro i’ve made for her in the past, so while some random points seem a Little dated or repetitive, they’re valid enough to stay here sfdlgkdg

i’ve had inspo for her after the olympics and rly wanted to use her somewhere, so if some things here seem a little.. idk, farfetched for your taste, we’ll pin it on that sfdgkdfj

this is her as popular vines

so chae hyunmi aka halle, ulsan born, raised in seoul and relocated to toronto, canada with her parents, little sis and partner to train bc..

she’s a figure skater, good enough to win ( .. junior ig ) titles when she was in her early teens, so it was only inevitable for her to leave for toronto to train with the Best eventually

she’s competed in international competitions, as part of a pair, and made her olympic debut in sochi by the skin of her teeth; her highest placement was third place ( not at sochi pls sgjkld she prob ranked in the top ten at best ), so she’s got a medal or two to her name

ultimately it was after sochi that she saw her coach and ( ex ) partner intervene with her.. unhealthy practicing habits

she’s a perfectionist through and through, so of course she’d spend hours on the ice at just seventeen/eighteen years old, even younger tbh, to get a routine right. but she pushed herself harder and harder, where small missteps would lead her to fall hard and recover for days on end, even spraining her ankle just before competition season was to begin

so when her coach insisted she take a break, her parents following suit, it was with good reason — one that she didn’t fucking see fsdkgkl

even so, them pushing her to prioritize education for a bit, to get ahead of the skaters who would prob only be able to do so upon retirement in a good few years’ time, and hanging up her skates until she saw it as.. less than something she needed to abuse herself to feel comfortable with, for as long as they would do so led to her resolve shattering and her applying for universities in canada, the us and sk ( the sly brat reasoned that it’d be nice to be reconnect with her roots.. for the sake of having something going for her beyond just competing in pyeongchang ! )

but the latter wound up being a bust bc she opted for asteria u, close to some of the popular yet secluded skate clubs the greats went to during their off-season training.. and before tr*mp got elected bc she would’ve cancelled everything, demanded her money and scholarships back, had she arrived after that LSDFGJFKLD

should be noted that her grades were good, she had a super brief volunteering stint and she’s a rising star ( well, was.. the bitch wouldn’t be competing again anytime soon to keep herself where she was within the skating circuit ) in her favoured sport, so she deemed all of this inevitable sfkljfdgk

though the school didn’t and still doesn’t offer its own skate club so, that was a slight drawback for the invested bitch

the transition wasn’t too hard ofc; she got comfortable with the campus and was back on the ice in no time, joining one of those aforementioned skate clubs under her parents’ noses and making the most of it as comeback/olympics prep

she saw herself as poised to be added to the roster once again, now a singles prospect after a major falling out with her longtime partner for one too many dumb bitch moves, and was desperate for it; however the stars didn’t align back in 2017 during her sophomore year, when she just missed obtaining qualification while now on canada’s roster on a technicality, and nothing could’ve compared to the agony that was missing her chance in something she invested sm practice, time and compliance with the people around her to pull through and get to pyeongchang

she’s still distraught over it, it’s been a couple of years since that happened and she gets emo real quick, misty-eyed if you bring it up ( she uh, has issues with moving on from things if you can’t tell )

suffice to say she resents her coach for his minor contribution in fucking her and himself over, dropped him out of anger ( a move she.. does feels bad abt on a personal level but professionally ?? pft ) and linked up with one back in toronto who she’ll begin seeing when she’s “ prepared ” to give it a shot again

meaning she’s currently on hiatus from the sport, but she knows a good few people think her career is Over now — and it pisses her the Fuck off

studying kinesiology despite wanting to be a skating coach when she retires as a competitor, bc she rly loves being active and thinks she’d be a resource in the field down the line ok ??

anyways, she’s found new things to invest her time in, such as the sorority, dance club and volleyball

dance helps with the choreo for her routines.... or Did, but we all know she’s still doing Some amount of skating on the side so

and it helps in areas where muscle memory and years of flexibility can’t quite do so

volleyball’s a great second option for her as a sport, mostly bc she can exert as much of her frequent frustration as possible into a game and act like it’s just her being into it. though she really can be That competitive, as you can see, rather than bratty

so, moving onto other things —

personality and other shit

she is.. a mess rly

inflexible, independent, charismatic, etc

most of her actual personality is further down oops dsfgjklfg

kinda detached ?? like she doesn’t want too many distractions and she deems relationships as the fucking Worst for it.. she’s had some pals from skating with potential go downhill when they got too deep with certain partners or just with too many side hobbies, social obligations, so she’s trying to be level-headed while not destroying her social life ?

idk it’s hard to explain, she’s an enigma even to me in that area

only dated once or twice. the first time being when she was like nine. with her first pairs partner that she quickly ditched.

not.. super sexually active either ( rip ?? )

but she’s been Involved with people so fdskng

on the ice, or just in whatever she’s applying herself to, she’s domineering and blunt, v strict on herself though she’s slacked off a bit over the years.. so imagine how self-disciplined — in the worst of ways — she was when she was younger

with a rigorous work ethic like hers, her being a leader among those at the local skating club implies that she’d be strict too with what little power she has.. but she’s kinda chill overall ?? tho you still have to get your twizzles right before the end of the day, don’t care that the hockey players will be out in two ! let’s go !

uh.. her attitude carries over with a Lot of things. she especially has no time for people who are Committed to their sport but show poor performances bc of laziness, distractions, etc. so brace your kids for hurricane halle ??

call her ice queen. try it. try it. GKFDJKGDSF she hates that nickname 95% of the time, usually bc she assumes people are basing it off of her initial/professional demeanour first and her passion second

she rly just has a hard shell where it matters, aka her career and stuff, but is a semi-precious gem overall

or, for a better way to describe it though it sounds like i’m just repeating myself: she gives off Proper head bitch vibes ( subtract the Need to feel powerful in being a piece of shit to anyone who walks past you ) but she’s really just a blunt and serious brat with a super dry and at times menacing sense of humour

she won’t hesitate to call you out on your shit or make it clear that she doesn’t like you, though, even if she appears cordial on the surface

as a result, hockey players HATE her !

bc she rips into them the most for frequently poor experiences with her fellow ice people. most of which are them hogging her reserved practice time, and being thirsty and pretentious dicks about it within and outside of the arena

kind of dramatic and a meme ngl, curses quite a bit, whips out korean or her conversational-level french far too often — especially if she’s shit-talking bc you made an ugly choice but is trying to be a Supportive Friend

english name came from halle berry bc hyunmi thought she was rly pretty on all the red carpets her mom would have on growing up sfgdkjflk

unwinds with the usual netflix and wine

oH also prob still hurts herself by overworking, especially after That Lost Opportunity, i hate

she’s pan but..... girls disappoint her far less than guys so she has a preference djfgskgdkf

all of that being said, it clearly plays into how she’s perceived by others, so —

her view and reception on starred

she..... probably doesn’t do too hot tbh

well. maybe she Does if starred's social ladder resembled most high school/college shows, movies.... rps, but it doesn't really so —

in all fairness, she probably does do better than i'm assuming rn bc.. she Is a character of sorts, who knows gskfksl but MOVING ON !

her blunt and kinda snarky attitude is partially Why she hates this point system, bc people tend to kiss ass just so they aren’t given a low rating whereas she can only hold back about 5% of her unfiltered opinion — but that’s IT !

tbh she relies heavily on her involvement in extracurriculars, and especially her public image from her glory days, more so than she herself to keep her head above water

so she looks entitled from that alone

given the way i’ve played her in the past, ik she might come across as a hbic type: thinks she’s the best ( which.. she kinda does sjkfgd ), savours the power she tries to or does in fact exert, doesn’t come across as particularly sympathetic or nice, etc

but she’s just a shit disturber with thick skin and a slight kink for receiving admiration and respect, puts herself first a little too much

in fact, she doesn’t really Care to hold people by a leash, but yeah, it can come across much differently since her tone never really Shifts if she doesn’t know you well, doesn’t trust you, knows you’re naive with such things, doesn’t like you, is just fucking around or in a sour mood.... the list goes on

so if your character focuses on who’s the nicest or most cheerful when giving high ratings, makes a v quick judgment on their character from a first impression, she’s gonna be near the bottom of their list dfsghkfgj

and like i said, she doesn’t care for the system Enough to change any of this, so she gets by

KDFJGSKFL uh, let’s end it there bc this is painfully long — congratulations if you’ve made it to the end of this intro from hell ! if anyone wants to plot, like this or im me !! ( ps, if you prefer d*scord like yours truly, just ask for it or send me yours ! )

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

oh baby, you could devastate me [one-shot]

moodboard courtesy of @reylocalligraphy

Rey works for the Admissions & Recruitment department at the University of Naboo because she loves her alma mater and never wants to leave. Kylo works for A&R because he's the disgraced former president of a for-profit university, and his mom told him to. When these two are paired up, things go... surprisingly well, actually.

Until they start sleeping together, that is.

For Day 5 - Alternate Universe of @reyloveweek.

Below please find nearly 10k words’ worth of a uni recruiters!AU. (Is that a thing? I’ve made it a thing. I apologize.) Also, my first M-rated fic ever.

Also available on AO3.

The summer after high school, Rey makes a two-hour drive to the nearest big city in order to attend a U of Naboo reception. It’s taken her all year to save up enough money for the trip, and she’s pretty sure it won’t lead to anything – this is the University of Naboo they’re talking about, and she only applied because her guidance counselor managed to get the application fee waived – but this might be the closest she’ll ever get to her dream school, and the forums tell her the food at these receptions are great, so off she goes.

She sits through an hour-long presentation, tries to pace herself at the buffet, and nearly smashes a plate full of tiny appetizers into the chest of one Amilyn Holdo, the provost herself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” Rey stammers as she takes three steps backwards and sets her plate down on the nearest table. Half of the appetizers fell to the ground when she made a last-minute adjustment to avoid Holdo, and her cheeks burn with shame as two staff members rush forward to deal with the mess. She’s about to crouch down and help them when Holdo wraps one well-manicured hand around her elbow and gently pulls her away.

“It’s okay, Rey. I should’ve watched where I was going, really,” the woman says with a smile, and Rey can only blink at her dumbly while she processes that sentence.

“You… you know who I am?”

“Of course I do! Your essay has been making the rounds at the university, you know,” Holdo tells her almost proudly, referring to the essay Rey hates herself for writing, the one that’s all about the sob story she never tells anyone, the one her guidance counsellor had assured her would get the attention of the scholarship department. “We’re really looking forward to having you join us this fall. And on behalf of the university, I’d like to be the first to congratulate you – in person – on winning the scholarship. It was a close call – we always get such strong applicants – but I fully believe you deserve it.”

And that’s how Rey learns that she’s won a life-changing full ride to the University of Naboo, courtesy of the Padmé Amidala Education Fund.

The next two months are a whirlwind of selecting her courses and uprooting her entire life and applying for part-time job after part-time job, but it’s all worth it – the past two months of planning and the past year of waiting and the past eighteen years of hard work – the second Rey sets foot on campus.

For the first time in her life, she feels at home.

A week before graduation, Rey gets an email that sends her sprinting back home.

“Finn!” she calls out to the empty apartment the second she gets home. “Finn! I got the job!”

Her roommate comes running out of his room and charges at her, picks her up in a huge bear hug and allows himself five seconds of excited, high-pitched squealing. “Me too! I just got the email!”

They scream in joy and dance around the apartment and pop open a bottle of sparkling juice that’s been gathering dust since their housewarming party three years ago.

A month later Rey and Finn show up for their first day of work at the Admissions and Recruitment department, a job that’ll allow them to stay in the safe and familiar bubble that is U of Naboo indefinitely even though they’ve just graduated.

Poe Dameron, head of the department and Finn’s longtime crush, takes it upon himself to personally show them around an office they’re more than familiar with and introduce them to staff members they’ve already known for years, thanks to their work as student ambassadors. “Best job ever,” Finn gushes in a low whisper when Poe reminds them that their work as recruiters will include a lot of travel.

The first few weeks go remarkably well.  They’re paired up with various members of the department to learn the ins and outs of the job, and their first major assignment – a briefing for that fall’s incoming students – goes off without a hitch.

By October, Poe decides they’re ready to travel.

“Rey, you and Jessika will be heading to Coruscant,” Poe tells her, and she bites on her lip to hide her smile when Finn lightly elbows her and excitedly mouths Coruscant!!! at her. “You’ll be hitting up a lot of high schools and a few education fairs, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it. And Jessika is one of our most experienced staff members, so you’re in good hands.”

“Finn,” their boss says next, and there’s no mistaking the apologetic look on his face. “This was totally random, we needed someone to pair him up with and he’s burned through half of the department already-”

“Oh, no,” Finn says, holding his hands up as he takes a step backwards. “No no no, please don’t say-”

“You’ll be heading to Canto Bight with Ren.”

Rey watches with equal measures of sympathy and amusement as Finn stomps his foot. “Poe,” he whines. “You know he hates me.”

“I’m beginning to think he hates everyone,” Poe mutters under his breath before he starts comforting Finn and assuring him it won’t be that bad.

It is that bad, Rey figures when Finn sends her four disgruntled texts within the first hour of his trip with Ren. Canto Bight is a city best described as an excess of extravagance, and Rey knows that Finn will instantly fall in love with the glitz and glam of the place. It’s a shame that he has to share the experience with Kylo Ren, the surliest member of their department and a notoriously difficult person to work with.

On their own flight to Coruscant, Jessika fills her in on Ren’s checkered past, the highlight of which has to be his involvement with a for-profit uni that turned out to be a scam. “They shut the whole place down, even threw the founder in jail, I think,” Jessica whispers over a dinner of surprisingly tolerable airplane food. “The only reason Ren didn’t go down with him is because they found out he really didn’t know anything about the scam. It was all Snoke and Armitage Hux, who was CFO of the parent company. Ren cooperated with the investigation and testified against them both, and when it was all over Leia Organa dragged him back home and insisted that he apply for a job here.”

“Leia Organa?” Rey asks in confusion, wondering why the President of the university would involve herself in something like this.

“Oh, I forgot,” Jessika sets down her cutlery and turns to Rey. “Mrs. Organa’s his mom. They try to keep it a secret, so that people don’t think she got him the job. Though really, if nepotism were involved you’d think Mrs. Organa could’ve done better than a lowly recruiter position in Admissions and Recruitment. Not that I don’t love our jobs, but… you know. The guy was president. And she’s the president. It’s obvious she wasn’t involved in this beyond making him apply.”

“Right,” she mutters absently as Jessika goes back to her food, her mind reeling from this new information. They don’t talk about Ren again for the rest of the flight, and when Rey lands she busies herself with catching up on her messages while Jessika takes advantage of the duty-free shops.

Worst job ever, Finn’s latest text reads. Pray you never get paired up with Kylo Ren.

Rey manages to go a full year before Poe comes to her with that all-too-familiar look of preemptive apology.

“Fuck,” she mutters as Poe hands her a file, unease pooling in her stomach. A year is plenty of time to hear all of the department’s worst horror stories about Ren, and she’s been dreading this moment ever since Finn’s first run-in with the man.

“I’m sorry, Rey,” Poe says, and she knows he means it but still. “He’s worked with literally everyone else, and not a single one of them is willing to do it again.”

That reminder really doesn’t help. “You’re making it worse,” Rey tells him as she flips the file open to find nearly a year’s worth of scheduled trips. “What the hell, Poe? You’re making me work with him permanently?”

“No! God, no!” he exclaims, taking the file from Rey. “This is Ren’s schedule, not yours. You’ll be heading to Coruscant with him,” Poe points out the details for the Coruscant trip, which seems to be more or less the same as the one she took with Jess a year ago. “And we’ll see how it goes from there.”

“What do you mean, we’ll see how it goes from there?” Rey asks warily.

Poe sets the file down on her desk and sighs. “Look, I’ve been watching you work for a while now and I think you and Kylo could really get along. Not as friends or anything, but I think if anyone in this office can work with him, it’s you. You don’t let others get you down, so I know he’s not going to depress you or anything, but you also don’t put up with bullshit, so he won’t be able to walk all over you.”

In some strange way, all of that is probably a compliment since it’s coming from her boss. But pretty words aren’t going to distract Rey from the matter at hand. “So this is a trial run for some kind of, what, permanent partnership?”

“Only if you’re okay with it,” Poe assures her. “I promise, Rey, if you really hate him then we’ll just go back to making him work with rotating partners. But I really think this could work, if you’d just give it a chance.”

Poe gives her those puppy dog eyes Finn is such a sucker for, and she caves with a heavy sigh. “Fine. One trip. And then we’ll see how it goes.”

Badly, Rey predicts as Poe thanks her. It can only go badly.

They decide to meet at the airport after a string of brief, to-the-point emails discussing their upcoming assignment. Ren is seldom in the office – god knows what he gets up to, but it’s not like anyone’s going to complain about not having him around – and the few times she’s spotted him skulking around, Rey has gone out of her way to avoid interacting with him in person.

Which means that when she walks up to him at the airport on a chilly October morning and introduces herself, it’s the very first time she hears his voice – his normal speaking voice, that is. Everyone in the office has overheard his occasional heated debate with Poe behind closed doors.

“So you’re the girl I’ve heard so much about,” Kylo muses as they shake hands, and the combination of his thoughtful tone and his low voice nearly knocks Rey off her feet. Isn’t this the guy who routinely yells at Poe about mismanaged funds and unnecessary trips? Isn’t this the guy who greets everyone with a scowl, then proceeds to ignore them as much as possible?

Flabbergasted, Rey turns to her default setting when meeting strangers: suspicious. “What do you mean?” she asks warily, pulling her hand out of Kylo’s when she realizes they’re sort of just…holding hands.

It’s not unpleasant.

Kylo shrugs; the motion looks out of place on his broad shoulders, too casual for a man who routinely stalks around the office and leaves a cloud of gloom and doom behind him. “Everyone in A&R loves you. Even Poe gushes about you all the fucking time. It’s like you’re God’s gift to this whole damn department.”

Poe does not gush – not unless it’s about Finn, anyway – but Rey’s too busy taking offense at that last muttered bit to contradict him on his claim. “I just care about my job,” she crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at Kylo, “unlike some people.”

He stares at her for a beat, something incomprehensible clouding his eyes while he scrutinizes her. Finally Kylo sighs, shakes his head, and throws a mumbled “whatever” over his shoulder as he turns his back on her and proceeds towards the check-in counter.

Rey feels oddly guilty as she scurries off to catch up to him, and she spends the rest of their time in the airport dissecting their brief conversation to figure out whether she was needlessly rude.

But this is Kylo Ren – the bane of their department’s existence, the asshole who insisted on referring to Finn by his employee ID. No matter how gentle or teasing or whatever his tone had been, none of what he’d said to her could possibly have been anything than a snide insult… right?

It’s a five-hour flight to Coruscant, which is all the way on the other side of the country. As soon as they’re in the air and the seatbelt signs are turned off, Rey reaches for her laptop and starts working on her slides for their presentation.

“This is a waste of time,” Kylo mutters as he flips through their itinerary. “Coruscant U is our biggest rival, and they’ve beaten us in the rankings for two years now. Anyone there with the grades and money to get into a top five uni has probably already applied and accepted an offer to go to CU.”

Rey bites her tongue, counts to ten, and plasters on some semblance of an encouraging smile – her best customer service smile, Finn calls it – before she turns to her downer of a colleague. “CU might have beaten us in pre-med and law, but we’re still globally #1 when it comes to the arts and engineering. We’ve also got more reasonable tuition, more famous faculty, and the biggest university library on this continent.”

Kylo shakes his head at her. “Sure,” he scoffs derisively, but his pinched features have given way to something almost like a smile. “Kids will definitely pick a university based on library sizes.”

“I did,” Rey shrugs as she goes back to tinkering with the size and color of her text. From the corner of her eye she sees Kylo still turned towards her, still watching her. There’s an awareness around his presence, of his presence, that she’s never really felt with anyone else. But then again, she’s never spent a full year hearing about and dreading and avoiding anyone else, either. That’s all there is to it, she tells herself.

“Did you?” Kylo asks after a while. “Pick U of N because of the library, I mean.”

“Among other things,” she says, as if U of N hadn’t become her dream school the day Luke Skywalker joined their faculty, as if the deciding factor had been anything other than a full scholarship. These are things Finn and Poe and Jessika know about her, things they earned with respect and friendship and common decency.

Kylo Ren hasn’t earned any of that, but he does earn some brownie points when halfway through the flight he turns to her and says, “That would’ve worked on me. Your pitch from earlier, about our arts program and our tuition and the library. It was a good pitch. I see why the department loves you.”

It’s the longest string of sentences she’s ever heard him put together, heated debates with Poe included. When she lands, a text from Finn awaits: how’s it going? I know he’s a monster but please don’t kill him, he’s sorta childhood friends with Poe and that would be awkward.

Rey sneaks a look at Kylo, standing by the baggage carousel after offering to wait for her bag if she’d get them both some coffee in return. When he catches her looking, he offers her the tiniest of smiles.

She smiles back and shoots off a reply to Finn. Surprisingly well, actually.

When Rey comes into work with a smile on her face a week later, Poe follows her to her cubicle with baited breath.

“So…” he produces a to-go cup of her favorite coffee and hands the blatant bribe to her nonchalantly. “How’d it go?”

She takes her time sipping her coffee, setting up her computer, pulling her planner out of her bag. When her boss starts wringing his hands in obvious unease, Rey tilts her head and allows her hair to fall forward and hide the smile tugging on her lips at Poe’s expense.

“Rey,” Poe finally snaps when she pulls up a blank document and pretends she’s going to start typing up her report right there and then.

“Oh, right,” she turns to him with an innocent smile, lets it widen into a grin when Poe huffs at her. “It went okay. You can go ahead and partner us up for the rest of the year.”

Poe blinks at her.

Rey stares back.

“Oh my god, you mean it?” he exclaims loudly, his voice drawing the attention of her cubicle mates. Poe clears his throat and pulls an empty chair up to her table. “Rey, you’re serious? You’ll do this for me?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Not everything is about you, Poe. But yes, your days of Kylo roulette are over. No more blindly selecting his next victim and getting all the blame for it.”

Poe draws even more attention when he lunges forward and picks her up off her chair, drawing a surprised yelp from Rey when he pulls her into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The rest of the office casts them puzzled looks that slowly morph into expressions of sheer relief when Poe whispers the news into Jessika’s ear, who quickly spreads it like wildfire.

For the next week, Rey is treated like a benevolent goddess, sent from the heavens above to take pity on Kylo’s poor, tormented colleagues. Every single day there’s someone waiting to treat her to lunch (and a horror story or two about their time with Kylo), and no one steals any of her snacks from the breakroom as a silent gesture of appreciation.

The first few times she comes back from an assignment with Kylo, she’s painfully aware of everyone’s eyes on her, of everyone holding their breath and waiting for her to declare that she’s changed her mind and he can be someone else’s problem because she’s done.

It never happens, and slowly life at the office settles into a new normal – a ‘normal’ which now includes Kylo smiling at her whenever they’re both at the office.

The rumors shouldn’t come as a surprise, but they do anyway.

She remains blissfully unaware of the office’s favorite gossip topic for the first four months of their partnership. And then–

“Jessika thinks you and Ren are sleeping with each other,” Finn declares at lunch one day, prompting Rey to choke on her sandwich while Jess punches Finn in the arm.

“No, I don’t!” she cries defensively while Rey struggles to catch her breath in between bouts of coughing. “It’s just something Rose said about them. Right, Rose?”

Rose, who’d been in the midst of offering Rey a glass of water, freezes. “What? No, no, it was definitely not me. Snap, didn’t you say something about Ren the other day?”

Poor Snap stares at them with his best deer-in-headlights look and shakes so hard his fork clatters to the ground. “It’s just. He smiles. At you. A lot.”

“So what?” Rey rasps, her voice still scratchy from the coughing. She clears her throat a few times before adding, “I smile at all of you a lot. It just means we’re friends.”

“Yeah, buuut…” Jessika trails off with a shrug as everyone else shares a knowing look.

“He doesn’t really smile at anyone else,” Rose points out gently. “And the way he looks at you…” she sighs, looking dangerously close to swooning.

“Look, I hate to admit it,” Finn says quietly as he leans forward, blocking the others out from their conversation. “But Ren actually acts like a person around you. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“Oh god,” Rey groans, letting her head fall forward into her hands. “Not you too, Finn.”

Finn gets the message and forcefully changes the topic to his budding relationship with Poe – because he really is the best friend a girl could ask for – while Rey composes herself. She joins the conversation a few minutes later, and shoves all of these ridiculous ideas about her relationship with Kylo to the back of her mind.

The thing is… Kylo does smile at her an awful lot, doesn’t he? She’s never even seen him smile at Poe, and they’ve apparently been friends since they were in diapers. And there have been times, on the plane first thing in the morning or at the bar after a long day or even just on the way to their separate rooms, when they accidentally fall asleep on each other’s shoulders or their knees bump or their hands brush – times when Rey wonders, what if?

So two days later, when they’re having drinks together at a hotel bar in Corellia after a long day of briefing sessions, Rey finds herself saying, “The entire department thinks we’re hooking up.”

Kylo sets down his whiskey, a local variety he appears to begrudgingly appreciate. All of a sudden Rey finds herself wondering why she didn’t just ask about that instead of blurting out the first thought that came to mind. “And why is that?” he asks, turning around in his bar stool to face her.

“Just, you know,” Rey falters, swipes at the salt on the rim of her glass and absentmindedly licks at her finger out of habit. Somewhere between licking the salt off her finger and finding the courage to face Kylo, her brain finally catches up to her actions and points out, in a rather panicky and loud voice, just how obscene that gesture could be in the wrong situation – a situation like this one, where you’re discussing why your colleagues think you’re sleeping together.

In the dim lighting of the bar, she thinks she spots a smirk playing on his lips.

“Because you’re not an asshole to me,” she blurts out, shoving her margarita glass aside so forcefully the contents nearly slosh over the rim. “They think that just because we get along it has to mean something. You know, because you’re legendarily awful to everyone else.”

“Is that all?” Kylo raises one skeptical brow, because of course the man has perfected the single-raised-brow look. Rey suspects that in any other situation, it might be an effective manner in which to convey disappointment while still giving off an air of superiority, somehow. But in this case, it comes across as a challenge – familiar ground, then, in this odd partnership of theirs.

“There was something about the way you look at me,” Rey adds almost casually as she moves closer, turns to mimic Kylo’s position and shifts her feet to his footrest so that her legs are bracketed by his. He leans in, presses the length of his legs up against hers.

“How do I look at you, Rey?”

He’s warm where they touch and his voice makes her toes curl and still, still there’s that familiar glint of a challenge in his eyes even as they flit down to her lips for the briefest of moments before they move back to her eyes.

“You tell me,” Rey hears herself saying as she moves to the edge of her seat, close enough for her knees to graze the inside of Kylo’s thighs.

“Rey,” he murmurs, eyes searching hers as one hand reaches out to curve around her hip, warm and heavy and not enough. “Are we doing this?”

She backs away, hops off her stool and watches a flicker of disappointment flash through Kylo’s eyes before he sets his features into a polite mask. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed-”

“Kylo,” she can’t help but smile at him, at the way he perks up like an overeager puppy when she curls a hand around his arm and makes her intentions known. “Settle the tab. I’ll be upstairs.”

Then, for good measure, Rey leans in close enough for her lips to brush his ear and whispers, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Kylo goes back to his own room after – they’ve still got some packing to do – and they don’t talk about it on the flight home the next morning. They talk, instead, about the whiskey he both hates and loves, about the father he both hates and loves. Somehow, it feels more intimate than what they’d shared the night before.

Two days later they find themselves in Jakku, and Rey finds herself drowning in memories when she’d rather be drowning in him. She sticks close to him as they make their way to their rooms at the one respectable inn the town has to offer, and as soon as Kylo opens his door she’s pushing him past the threshold and into bed.

After, while Rey stares out the window at the oppressive, suffocating sight of the never-ending wasteland she once called home, Kylo takes it upon himself to do some research on this one-horse town they’ve somehow found themselves in.

“Why are we even here?” he wonders out loud after going through some unhelpful data. Jakku is a tiny town, with an even tinier population. As far as prospective students go, they only ever get a handful of applicants at most each year. It makes no sense whatsoever for the university to have channeled any money or manpower here at all, let alone two of their best recruiters. “I know I said Coruscant was a waste of money, but this, this really makes no sense at all. Why did the department even–”

“It wasn’t the department,” Rey says quietly, her hunched back still turned to him, her unfocused eyes still staring out at the desert. “Necessity is the mother of all invention, right? That’s what they say, at least,” she shrugs, twisting slightly so that half of her face is visible to him, so that all of him is visible to her.

Kylo watches her with confusion on his face but patience in his eyes. Somehow he knows to set down his tablet, to crawl across the bed and move closer to her.

“Necessity is a fact of life here in Jakku,” she tells him, pressing her cheek to the sun-warmed glass as Kylo comes to sit right at the edge of the bed, just two feet away from the ratty old armchair she’s curled up in. “It’s all we ever know, from the day we’re left in this desert until the day we leave it. You’d be surprised what kind of innovation that can lead to.”

“You’re from here,” Kylo realizes out loud, his voice uncharacteristically gentle and hushed.

“I grew up here,” Rey murmurs. “I thought that all the things I did, all the things Jakku kids grow up knowing how to do, were just ordinary skills – or less than that, even, because none of us learned from proper schools or fancy textbooks or futuristic labs. And then I went to Naboo and I realized that none of this is normal, none of this is even close to average.”

Finally she tears her eyes away from the window, turns back to Kylo and his understanding eyes. “There are kids here who are just like me. Kids who’ve had to make do with scraps all their lives, kids who are more creative and intelligent and inventive than you could ever believe. They might not make it to Naboo– not everyone can be as lucky, even if they deserve to be – but I just want them to know that someone believes in their potential, that they have potential.”

She reaches for his hand, and Kylo tugs at her until Rey turns her back on the desert and moves back to him. “Let’s get back to work, then,” he says even as he pulls her into his lap and wraps his arms around her waist. “I want this to be our best presentation ever. They deserve that much.”

Rey smiles, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him slow and lazy. “You’re not all bad, Kylo Ren,” she declares with a grin.

“Call me Ben,” he murmurs against her lips, pulls her back in and holds her close.

They don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about it when they fall asleep in each other’s arms, or when they wake up and head to the airport together. They don’t talk about it when they run into each other at the office, or around campus. They don’t talk at all outside of work, in fact, and even at work they only ever discuss upcoming assignments.

But it works, somehow. Rey knows it can’t last, knows Kylo – call me Ben, he’d told her, but somehow she knows that only applies to very specific situations, the ones they don’t talk about – probably never meant for it to. But for now, as long as they’re traveling every week, as long as they can disappear into a world of their own every now and then, it works.

Two months after that first night in Corellia, they find themselves in Kylo’s birthplace of Hanna City, Chandrila. He’s tense the entire flight there, grumpy as hell when they land, and he outright ignores anyone who recognizes him.

Their presentation at the local high school is… difficult, especially when one of the teachers turns out to have been a classmate of Kylo’s back in the day and keeps trying to rope him into some reminiscing. After, when they’ve dumped everything back in their rooms and Kylo suggests hitting up the hotel bar, Rey comes up with a different idea.

“There’s a beach here, isn’t there? And the sea?” she asks, going through tourist attraction pamphlets on his coffee table while Kylo changes out of his work clothes.

“Rey,” he pokes his head out from around the bathroom, “I’m not exactly in the mood for sightseeing.”

She neatly rearranges the pamphlets, stands up and crosses the room to lean against the bathroom doorway while he finger-combs his hair. “Please, Ben? I’ve never been to the beach.”

Kylo catches her eye in the mirror, sighs and turns around to face her. “Only because you’ve never been,” he tells her and then adds, with an unexpected tinge of hometown pride, “and because Hanna City has some of the most beautiful beaches in the world.”

The beach closest to their hotel, the one his parents used to bring him to as a toddler, truly is beautiful. It’s too bad that Rey is too busy making out with Kylo and laughing at his muttered complaints about sand to pay much attention to it.

“Can’t do anything in this fucking sand,” he mumbles against her neck as if she hadn’t grown up in a desert, and then he picks her up and carries her away from the beach, Rey shrieking with laughter and poking fun at him the entire time.

Together they travel the country and even some neighboring nations, and between it all they don’t even trade so much as a text message while they’re home. For their grand finale that summer, before the freshmen come pouring in and it’s all hands on deck back home to welcome the students, Poe sends them off on a months-long international trip.

Not going home between trips means no sudden silences, no prolonged absences. Rey loves every minute of it, loves having Ben as her one constant while they jet from one foreign place to another and deliver their well-rehearsed presentations and speeches.

And Ben – well, Ben seems to like it just as much, because by the time they reach their final stop, he has no qualms about wrapping an arm around her waist as they walk into their hotel.

Maz’s Castle is said to be the finest hotel in Takodana, and any questions Rey had about why the department had shelled out the money to put them up here are laid to rest the second a tiny old woman heaves herself up on the counter.

“Ben Solo! You don’t write, you don’t call, and when you finally do visit you bring along some pretty young thing instead of that handsome uncle of yours?”

“Hi, Maz,” Ben smiles as they reach the counter, and he lets go of Rey to hug the tiny woman who’s apparently the Maz Kanata. “Uncle Chewie says hi, of course. He misses you.” Even with her perched on the counter, Ben still has to bend down to reach her. It’s adorable, Rey thinks. She’s adorable, all tiny and wizened with glasses that look more like goggles and lenses that give her the illusion of goldfish eyes.

Those goldfish eyes stop being as adorable when they’re focused on her. “So, this is the girl you’ve chosen to bring home to your aunt Maz,” she says to Ben as she studies Rey from head to toe. It’s unnerving, it’s as bad as all of her nightmares about running into Leia Organa, and it takes what feels like an eternity but is probably less than a minute.

Maz nods decisively, holds out her hand and yanks Rey into a surprise hug when she reaches for a handshake. “Welcome, dear. We’re so happy to have you here.”

“Um, thank you,” Rey says, smiling despite her confusion. She catches Ben’s eye over Maz’s shoulder and does her best to convey how lost she is, but Ben simply shrugs and mouths just go with it, grinning all the while.

It makes him look boyish and happy and young. Young, happy, boyish Ben Solo does things to her, things she should not be contemplating while an ancient woman is hugging her.

“Okay!” Maz scoots backwards and hops off the counter, climbs up a stepstool and adjusts her glasses as she types something into the computer. “Knew you were coming, so I’ve prepared a special surprise for you,” she tells Ben conspiratorially. “Our best cabin by the lake! It’s a beautiful lake, and there’s a lovely view of the forest too, you’ll just love it,” the little old lady assures Rey with a wink.

“Maz, you didn’t have to–” Ben begins to protest.

“Of course I didn’t have to, darling, I don’t have to do anything and haven’t for a very long time now,” she sniffs almost imperiously. “But I wanted to, and so I did. Now off you go, I have better things to do around here than squabble with you Solos. Lovely meeting you, dear,” Maz tells her, and with one last nod at Ben she motions for a young woman to replace her before disappearing into a door at the end of the check-in counter.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Solo. It says here that you’ll be staying in one of our lovely lake cabins for the next–”

Rey is painfully aware of how rude she’s being, but she can’t stop herself from turning to Ben to whisper, “Mr. and Mrs. Solo?”

The smile he gives her is pinched. “Maz’s idea of a joke,” Ben tells her flatly, and they don’t speak of it again as the woman finishes her introductory speech and hands them their keys.

There’s barely time to appreciate the cabin before they’re rushing to get showered and changed for the evening’s reception, and they take turns using the hair dryer while making last-minute changes to their Welcome to life in Naboo! presentation.

The rest of the day is a blur of coordinating with hotel staff and welcoming attendees and mingling with alumni, and by the end of the night they’re both so drained from traveling and interacting and presenting that they end up just falling into bed and dozing off almost immediately.

Rey dreams in disorientating snippets that night, jump cut after jump cut with barely anything in between, just a never-ending series of hotels and smiling receptionists and bookings made under the name Mr. and Mrs. Solo.

She wakes to the sound of birdsong, the gentle warmth of diffused sunlight, and a hand between her thighs.

“What time is it?” she asks in lieu of a good morning, moving closer to Ben without opening her eyes.

“Nine,” he murmurs against her bare skin, presses a kiss to her shoulder as his free hand snakes underneath her to cup her breast. “Still three hours before we have to be at the airport. Plenty of time to spare.”

Rey blinks as the world slowly comes into focus, smiles to herself at the sight of Ben’s eager hands moving underneath her tank top and pushing her underwear aside. She lets him work in silence for a while, helps him along by reaching down to take over when he finally slips two fingers inside her.

Ben nuzzles into her neck while they move in tandem, a well-practiced team at this point when it comes to preparing her for him. He speeds up when her breath starts coming out in sharp little gasps, slows down when she finally melts into him and turns around to blindly place an appreciative kiss somewhere on his upper arm. Rey knocks his hand aside while she regains her breath, and he takes the opportunity to properly divest the both of them of what little clothing they’d worn to sleep the night before.

“Like this?” Ben asks when Rey starts squirming against him, her back to his front, and waits for her to hum a small mm-hmm before he lines them up and pushes into her as if they have all the time in the world.

She tries very hard not to think of the fact that this is their last trip together for the foreseeable future, that this might be the last time she’ll ever get to share this with Ben. But it’s soft and slow and he’s whispering sweet nothings into her hair, and all Rey can think of is Mr. and Mrs. Solo and the fact that Ben has never once shown even the slightest interest in meeting up with her back home.

“You okay?” Ben murmurs, and Rey realizes that at some point she’s stopped moving with him.

“Perfect,” she claims, turns around to give him a smile and a chaste peck before she reaches for the hand around her hip and moves it to press down on her lower abdomen, right over the bulge of him inside her.

Ben moans at the feeling, his breath warm and ticklish on the sensitive skin right under her ear. Rey presses as close to him as humanly possible, clutches at his arm and begs him to go harder, bites back the desperate plea bubbling up her throat to make me forget, please, Ben, make me forget this is the last time make me forget this isn’t forever.

“Rey–” Ben chokes out her name, snakes his hand down to where she needs him. “So close, sweetheart.”

Their time together is drawing to a close, and Rey realizes with a burst of panic that she’s been so worried about it ending that she hasn’t taken the time to fully appreciate it, to feel everything and commit all of it to memory. She closes her eyes and makes a conscious effort to clear her mind of everything but this, everything but Ben and her and how they feel together.

“Me too,” she whispers as Ben’s movements start growing erratic, his lips dotting little kisses along her neck as he rubs tight, frantic circles into her clit.

He comes first, muffles a loud Rey by sinking his teeth into her shoulder. The intimacy and bittersweetness of it all pushes her over the edge not long after, and Rey twists uncomfortably in Ben’s arms to bury her face in his neck as she falls apart.

The sun has climbed higher now, past the canopy of trees. When Rey finally gives in to her aching muscles and turns back, she glimpses a thousand dazzling pinpricks of light dancing on the surface of the lake in between the gaps of their curtains.

It’s beautiful, and Rey mourns briefly for the fact that they didn’t even have the time to appreciate the view during their short stay.

She wants to voice her thoughts, wants Ben to hold her tight and promise her they’ll come back here someday and see everything together. But her phone goes off before she can come to a decision, an alarm set for 9:30 lighting up her screen, and suddenly it’s time to shower and pack and grab something to eat.

In the cab, on the way to the airport, Ben wraps an arm around her and looks at her with a tiny little furrow between his brows. “Are you okay? You’ve been a bit quiet this morning.”

“I’m great,” Rey assures him with a plastered-on smile, the one she hasn’t given him in months. It doesn’t set him at ease. “Just, you know, thinking about home and the office and real life. It’s going to be weird, adjusting to everything again.”

Ben’s arm slips from her waist and he retreats to his side of the backseat. “Yeah,” he mutters, looking out the window. “Weird.”

She knows that today’s the end, knows that it’s time to slowly start the adjustment process, but a part of her had hoped that Ben would at least play along until they land in Theed. Instead he pulls away from her at the first mention of their lives back home, and for the rest of the journey they barely talk aside from the occasional inane comment about last night’s reception.

At the baggage carousel, Ben wordlessly picks up their bags and hands Rey her carry-on and her suitcase before he shoulders his weekend bag and checks to make sure that his common black luggage is actually his.

“All right,” he says once he’s satisfied with his inspection, straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, looks at her without ever really meeting her eyes. “See you around, Rey.”

And with that, he walks off.

Finn comes over later that night with their usual celebratory Chinese to welcome her home. The minute he catches sight of her red-rimmed eyes, he turns around and walks back the way he came. “I’m going to kill that bastard,” he seethes, and Rey rushes out of her apartment barefoot and clad only in an oversized tee-shirt to stop him.

“No, Finn, come back. It’s not his fault,” she says weakly, pulls her best friend back into the safety of her home and locks the door behind her.

“You come home after two months with Kylo ‘Asshole’ Ren only for me to find you crying your heart out and somehow you expect me to believe it’s not his fault?” Finn demands, albeit gently.

“It really isn’t,” Rey insists, swiping at her eyes while she attempts to focus on unpacking the food he’s brought. “It’s just… it’s me. This one’s on me. God, Finn,” she chokes on a sob, slams down a pair of disposable chopsticks so hard they snap in half. “How could I have been so stupid?”

Finn rushes forward and pries the chopsticks out of her hands, inspects her for splinters before he guides her to the couch. “Hey. Talk to me, peanut. What’s going on here?”

The thing is, Rey’s been keeping it together – somewhat. Sure, her heart had broken at the sight of Kylo walking away from her at the airport. And fine, so maybe she had cried a bit while unpacking her bags only to be greeted with little memories of their time together. But for the most part, she’s been fine – up until Finn turns those big, worried eyes on her, calls her peanut, and pulls her into a familiar, comforting hug.

She clutches at his shirt and muffles a wail against his chest, and it’s like she’s opened the bloody floodgates because no matter how hard she tries, she can’t stop crying for even one fucking minute to give Finn a much-needed explanation.

Finn, to his credit, just holds her tight and runs a soothing hand up and down her back until she calms down.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says when Rey finally pulls back, diplomatically giving her a private moment to wipe her tears away and blow her nose.

Rey takes the glass from him with a shaky smile, sips at it while she tries to gather her thoughts and Finn turns the TV on but keeps it on mute. Finally, she settles into her nest of pillows on the far side of the couch and regards her best friend – her first friend, her oldest friend. He might well be the only person on Earth she’ll ever be able to admit this to, and so she does.

“I love him, Finn,” Rey confesses in a whisper, and it’s as much a revelation to herself as it is to Finn. Somehow, she hadn’t known the full extent of her feelings right up until the very second those words decided to escape her.

“I love Kylo Ren, and he doesn’t feel anything for me.”

Rey has spent her whole life studying the mechanics of addiction, trying to figure out how her parents could’ve been so far gone as to abandon their own child in the name of their endless quest for alcohol. She’ll never fully understand them, but she likes to think that at least this way she’ll never be like them.

But the part of Rey that misses him, the part of her that craves him the way her parents must’ve craved their next drink… that part of her isn’t something she’s proud of, but it isn’t something she can deny either.

So when Poe hands her a proper assignment sandwiched between a dozen on-campus student engagement activities, Rey jumps at the chance to see him again, to be near him again, even if it’ll only break her heart even more. All she wants is another hit, no matter the cost.

She wakes up bright and early on the first day of the Naboo Education Fair, held on the first week of October every year. The U of N booth is basically the fair’s crowning jewel, and every year the department sends two senior staff members to supervise the student ambassadors on their first day to make sure everything’s properly set up.

It’s her first time being assigned to the fair, but Rey barely even notices. She gets in the car an hour before she needs to leave, drops by the nearest café to pick up drinks for the both of them. There’s a joke around the office that Kylo is definitely the kind of person to drink coffee as black and bitter as his soul, but none of them have seen Ben fumbling with his coffee first thing in the morning, scooping in lump after lump of sugar and creamer until the drink is practically a dessert. It takes Rey a good five minutes to modify the drink to his liking, and as she walks out of the café she takes pity on the poor, horrified barista.

At ten to eight, Rey strolls into the office fully prepared to give Kylo a polite smile along with his cup of coffee, to pretend that he didn’t break her heart.

Instead, she finds herself face to face with Jessika Pava.

“Jess! What are you doing here?” Rey asks, her eyes discreetly scanning the rest of the office for Kylo even as understanding dawns upon her.

“Isn’t this exciting? Poe just called me yesterday, said Ren has something else to do and asked me to cover for him. I said yes soon as I heard what it was for and who I’d be partnered with. We haven’t worked together in ages! Oh, is that for me?” Jess asks, reaching for the cup of coffee.

“Um, I mean, you can have it. But be careful, it’s–”

Rey scrunches up her nose as Jess chokes down the coffee. “Holy mother of diabetes, what is this?” she asks, holding the cup at arm’s length. “It’s worse than one of those Starbucks frappes.”

“It was for Ren,” Rey mutters, taking the cup from Jess as they make their way outside.

“Was it a prank? Rey, that’s brilliant!” Jess laughs as they make their way to the sidewalk. Rey should’ve noticed Jess’ car parked out front, she realizes as she dumps the contents of the cup into a patch of grass before throwing the cup itself into the trash.

They decide to take Jess’ car – Rey puts up significantly less of a fight than she normally would have, but Jess doesn’t notice – and she uses the rest of the hour-long trip to the convention center to snap herself out of it and dive into work.

She ends up volunteering to supervise the fair for the rest of the week, but she needn’t have bothered – Finn tells her Ren doesn’t show up at the office the entire week, and Poe explains that he’s been borrowed by the President’s office for a bit since they’re short-staffed this semester.

Rey doesn’t buy it for one second, but it’s not like her opinion matters to him anyway. She throws herself into work, takes charge of every assignment that’s up for grabs, and somehow manages to make it all the way to Christmas before she sees Kylo again.

Well, see isn’t exactly the right term for it.

She catches a glimpse of him at the office holiday party, towering a full head above everyone else, and her heart starts beating so fast it physically hurts. Kylo turns around, definitely sees her too, because before she can gather up the nerve to say hi his head is bobbing away in the opposite direction.

He avoids her for the entire night, as if to really drive home the point that whatever they had is in the past now. Rey gets the message loud and clear, but that doesn’t stop her heart from aching for him anyway.

God, she misses him so much, and he can’t even be bothered to say the briefest of hellos to her. How are they ever going to work together again?

Even worse – what if they never work together again?

January rolls around and with it comes a new travel schedule.

To Rey’s surprise, she finds she’s been partnered up with Kylo again. To her total and utter lack of surprise, he goes ahead and boards the plane separately, greets her with a curt nod, and doesn’t say anything to her for the entirety of their flight to Canto Bight.

Canto Bight is too loud, too bright, with too rich kids ready to throw an obscene amount of money at Naboo as long as it means getting into a top five school and getting their parents off their backs. Rey hates every second of it – hates how her cheeks start to hurt from her fake smile, hates how some of the prospective students are clearly paying more attention to her body than her slides, hates how Kylo doesn’t say a single word to her all evening.

He comes to stand by her side as she thanks the attendees and wishes them a good night, and every single fiber of her being reacts to his physical proximity in a way that makes her want to tear her heart out and throw it into the ocean.

“So,” one of the rude douchebags from earlier saunters up to her, gives her a clear once-over as he picks her business card up from the table, “guess I’ve got your number now.”

“My work number, yes,” Rey says, feeling her smile start to crack as the rest of the boys join their friend. From the looks on their faces, she’s in for even more insufferable bullshit.

“So, Rey – I can call you Rey, right? –, how old are you, anyway?” a second boy asks, his friends snickering behind him as they jostle each other in a playful manner. “Because I think older chicks are pretty hot,” he adds with a smirk before Rey can so much as roll her eyes, and the rest of his entourage howls with laughter and drawn-out calls of ayyy.

An arm snakes its way around her waist, and the boys seem to take a collective step backward as Kylo moves forward. “So, how did you gentlemen enjoy the presentation tonight? I trust you found my wife’s slides very informative, since you don’t appear to have any actual questions about the university.”

Wife, he says so casually, as if it doesn’t hurt like a dozen knives through her heart, as if she hasn’t been haunted by Mr. and Mrs. Solo for the last five months.

The kids back off, stammer something about the presentation and yeah it was super helpful really looking forward to uni okay good night bye, and suddenly she finds herself all alone in a darkened hall with no one but Kylo, his arm still tightly wrapped around her waist.

Rey shakes him off and storms over to the table to collect what’s left of their course catalogues and pamphlets. “I could’ve handled that myself,” she mutters when Kylo’s shadow falls over the table.

“Well, it was taking you a while, so I thought I’d speed things up,” he bites back, stuffing their business cards and pens and sign-up sheets into his messenger bag.

“By pretending we’re married?” Rey confronts him, and makes the mistake of looking up just as he steps into her personal space.

Kylo grits his teeth, his jaw tense as he avoids her eyes. “If I had known that the mere thought is so abhorrent to you, I would’ve kept it to myself. My apologies.”

He snatches the pile of catalogues from her hands and storms off, and something about the sight of his retreating back just breaks her.

“Don’t you dare!” Rey calls out, picks her bag up from the floor and abandons the rest of their stuff to stalk after him. “You’re not walking away from me again, not after saying something like that.”

“Like what, Rey?” Kylo turns on her when she catches up to him at the bank of elevators, and for all the emotions she’s seen on his face, for all the tales she’s heard of his anger issues, the sight of him angry at her nearly knocks her off her feet. “Like the truth?”

“What do you even–” The doors open with a soft chime, and she follows him into the elevator. “What truth, Kylo? Because all I heard was you assuming that you know how I feel about you or marriage or anything! How the hell would you know the first thing about me after avoiding me for five months?”

Kylo stabs the button for their floor and backs himself up against the opposite wall, putting as much space between them as possible in this tiny metal box. “What was I supposed to do, Rey? Hang around the office and wait to see you walk in and out every day the way you walked in and out of my life? Did you really think we could go back to being whatever the fuck we used to be after you made it clear that our time together meant nothing to you?”

“Oh my god,” Rey yells as they storm off the elevator, “what even the fuck are you talking about right now? I made it clear? You’re the one who said see you around and turned your back on me!”

“Because you dumped me!” Kylo growls as he swipes his keycard into the slot, and Rey is so taken aback that she doesn’t move in time to follow him before he shuts the door in her face.

He thinks she dumped him. Ben thinks she dumped him, and he’s been… nursing his wounds for the past five months? Avoiding her because he was hurt?

“Ben!” She knocks on the door, starts all-out pounding her fists against it when he fails to open up. “Ben, let me in. Let me in right now, you impossible, unbelievable, idiot of a–”

She doesn’t notice the tears streaming down her face until he opens the door and stares at her in horror. “You’re crying. Why are you crying?”

“I’m crying because you’re an idiot and you broke my heart,” Rey says bluntly as she shoulders her way past him and stomps into the room.

“Rey–” Ben closes the door behind him, leans against it as he watches her pace the length of his room.

“How the hell did I dump you?” she demands, still pacing. “Explain. Now.”

Ben walks towards her almost warily, each step slow and deliberate and cautious. “That morning in Takodana… you were so quiet, so off. And then you said all that stuff about getting used to normal life again, and I just… I knew – I thought – you meant life before us. Life without me.”

Months. For months they’ve both been in pain because of a stupid misunderstanding. “Ben,” she sobs, brings a hand up to her mouth to muffle her cries.

“I waited,” he tells her, moving close enough to sit on the edge of the bed. “For you to call, to visit… hell, I would’ve been happy with a text, Rey.”

Rey stares at him while the gears in her brain grind to a sudden halt, and then she’s throwing herself at him and rolling them towards the center of the bed. “I missed you,” she gasps, taking his face in her hands, “so much,” tears obscure her vision as she leans down to kiss him, “every day.”

Ben brings a hand up to wipe her tears away. “Then why didn’t you–”

“I thought you didn’t want anything more! I thought I was being stupid and sentimental and–”

He stops her right there, pulls her down for a kiss and rolls them over until he’s all she can see, all she can feel. “I want more. I want everything with you, Rey.”

“Good,” Rey smiles, chokes on a laugh as she threads her fingers through his hair, “because I love you, and I want everything with you too.”

Ben laughs, leans down to press their foreheads together. “God, we’re such idiots. And I love you too, sweetheart.”

. . .

In the morning, Rey scrunches up her nose in delight when Ben greets her with an Eskimo kiss and burrows into his side.

“Now what?” she asks with a smile as Ben laces their fingers together.

He sits up straight, puts enough distance between them to look her in the eye. “We could get married. I mean, when in Canto Bight…”

Rey stares at him in wide-eyed shock until she spies a familiar gleam in his eyes. “You’re joking,” she calls him out, half-relieved and half-wary.

“You did say everything,” Ben reminds her very seriously, manages to keep the act up for a whole ten seconds before he gives in to the grin tugging at his lips. “But yes, I’m joking. For now, anyway.”

Rey tugs him down for a kiss. “Let’s revisit that in a couple of years,” she suggests.

(They do.)

Gods above and below, I thought this fic would never end! Look, at this point most of you probably know I always end up running over my self-imposed word limit. That's normal, I've gotten used to it. But this was a projected seven thousand words at most, and now it's nearly ten. It's ridiculous, even by my standards.

Also this is my first M-rated fic ever. Yeah, you read that right: after more than a decade of tame fics, I sinned for this ship. And you guys. Mainly you guys. Feedback would be great, but also maybe let's never talk about this again while I go burn in the eternal flames of my shame?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. As usual, thank you for reading and I'd love to hear from you guys so don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment/etc.

[bladengineer]

a loud house

Title: a loud house

Characters: Blitzkrieg Boys + Sasha Alexeyev (OC)

Word Count: 1558

Summary: Snippets of the Alexeyev Household – the home of teenage disasters, petty arguments, russian yelling and boisterous laughter all in-between.

It was almost ironic how time seemed to slow down when disaster was about to happen – infuriatingly more so, when you can’t prevent the said disaster in time. So, with a painful sounding thump!, Bryan slid another few inches forward on his belly over the wooden floorboards, arms outstretched as the expensive looking ming vase shattered into, what he felt like, a million of pieces. He could even feel the impact on his very finger tips, it made him both angry and irritated because oh fuck, that particular vase was Boss Lady’s favourite.

They’re so dead.

“We’re so dead,” he muttered horrified, wide eyes still glued to the pathetic heap of shards in front of him. Behind him, Spencer made a sound between a terrified squeak and pained groan. The two teenage boys proceeded to look at each other with various levels of fear and Bryan was sure, Spencer’s face journeyed through the entire stages of grief in a span of 10 seconds. He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so hellbent on trying to convince himself that all of this was a fucked up nightmare – Boss Lady will ground their asses well into the next century.

“What was that sound?”

Speaking of the devil. They had to act quick if they wanted to keep their generous outdoor life privileges, so Bryan quickly heaved himself onto his knees and hastily tried to scrape the shards together, mindful of the sharp edges. He threw a panicked look over his shoulder.

“C’mon Spence! Help me, it was your fault anyway!”

To his confusion however, instead of helping him, Spencer’s face went somber as the telltale sound of footsteps ascending the nearby stairs rang through the house. Slowly, Spencer backed away from Bryan, regret in his eyes as he shook his head. Bryan gaped at him.

“Spencer. Don’t you dare–”

The blond stood within his room he shared with Ian, slowly closing his door, face hard.

“Long live the king, Bryan.”

“Spencer, I swear– did you just quote The Lion King at me?!” Bryan hissed, “Spence– Spencer, get your ass–”

The door clicked close and he could only stare at the door in absolute disbelief – betrayed, in cold blood, by his very own brethren. Was this how heartbreak felt like? He couldn’t mull over it too much when a shadow fell over him. Bryan cringed.

“Is that my favourite vase?”

Oh man, and he was really looking forward to that Friday Sale at the local Arts & Crafts Store.

Sasha lifted off the rattling pot lid, mindful of the hot steam emerging from underneath. She took a good whiff, smiling contently at the pleasant smell of food. Swiftly, she picked up the ladle she had put aside previously, stirring the contents in the pot. Attempting a taste, Sasha scooped some of the curry out of the pot, free hand clawing at the countertop next to her. After coming up empty, she furrowed her brows, finally looking away from the pot.

“Huh,” she mumbled. Weird, she was sure she left the fork from before right there. Shrugging, she turned down the heat, checked the rice cooker and then opened the drawer where she put all her cutlery. There, she fished out another fork, only to blink, stunned, again.

Where did her wire whip go? She could’ve sworn it wasn’t missing before, she didn’t even use it today. Now suspicious, she pierced a potato within the curry, blowing on it to dispel some of the heat before eating it. Deeming the curry ready, she went on to get the plates. To her surprise, when she opened the plate cabinet, she was greeted by the sight of the electric hand mixer.

“What on earth–” Sasha muttered, taking the utensil out of it’s wrong spot, only to notice how much lighter it felt than normal. Then, as if on cue, one of the surrounding plastic shells dropped from its unscrewed position, allowing Sasha to discover that the entire motor was missing inside.

A beat of silence. Then, she turned her gaze towards the ceiling.

“IAN!”

Snickering, Bryan took in Tala’s dismayed look and the split lip the other was sporting. Meanwhile, Sasha was busy brewing tea and fussing at the same time.

“I can’t believe you punched that kid at the festival!”

Tala grunted, “He deserved it.”

The woman gave him an unimpressed look.

“Well,” Bryan drawled, “the guy did try to kiss Astrid without her permission, he had it coming.”

“He deserved more than a punch,” Tala grumbled further, leaning his head back against the couch. The Alexeyevs had decided to visit the local festival for a fun day and a chance to meet up with one of Sasha’s former daughters Astrid Rundström, a sweet but incredibly shy young scandinavian woman, who had left the household to attend her scholarship at a prestigious art school abroad. She had been the first ‘sibling’ the boys had met, and though the woman towered over almost half of them, her personality was meek but kind. And despite initially low-key teasing her constantly how her looks didn't match her character, Tala had taken an incredibly protective stance on her – sure, the other boys did too, Ian was even ready to deck the guy at the festival after Astrid had broken into a fit of anxious tears, but Tala had always been the one to fend off unwanted attention.

“So you just break a guy’s nose?” Sasha’s voice brought him back from his reverie.

“He also lost a tooth,” Bryan informed unhelpfully her, which earned him a scornful glare from Tala. Realising his mistake, Bryan shrugged as if to say ‘my bad’ and ducked out of the living room, back outside.

The traitor.

Tala heard Sasha sigh and he watched how she craned her neck to look out of the window – no doubt trying to see if the others were still outside. Spencer and Ian had taken up the task to calm Astrid down, the youngest pelting a joining Bryan with snowballs in an effort to make Astrid smile again. The redhead prepared himself for a long lecture, when a small bag of special festival-only dried chocolate-covered strawberries was shoved under his nose. he looked up to see Sasha grinning down at him.

“Don’t tell your siblings, Pretty One,” she said, winking, “good job on that jerk.”

Tala snorted, taking the bag and opening it eagerly – he had a taste of them before and they were absolutely delicious.

“You’re so full of shit, Babushka.”

He got another bag from Astrid later, who smiled down at him serenely.

“Bryan, you absolute piece of shit!”

Tala’s screech greeted the entire family seated at the table in the morning as he came thundering down the stairs. Sasha, halfway through her usual morning tea, immediately looked up, appalled and ready to rip her second eldest a new one. That was, until she saw his face.

“Ay, Pretty One, what happened to your face?” she blurted out, causing the rest to finally turn around. Ian snorted into his cereal, immediately cackling loudly as he pointed at Tala, whose usual clear skin was now mottled with what looked like green paint. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether in favour of trying to conceal his twitching lips. Bryan, however, unabashedly grinned at Tala’s misfortune while taking a huge bite out of his peanut butter-strawberry jam toast. Icy blue eyes immediately zeroed in on him.

“You,” Tala hissed, “you did this!”

Bryan only shrugged, finishing his toast.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Red, but I hope that teaches you not spill nice on other people’s sketch books.”

“Oddly specific for someone who doesn’t know what’s going on,” Spencer muttered behind his mug before taking a gulp. Sasha put her hands on her hips, ready for a lecture but Tala interrupted her as he leaned forward, glaring at Bryan with such ferocity, the other actually started sweating a little.

“I shall piss on everything you love,” he threatened and Bryan would’ve laughed if he didn’t know what Tala was truly capable of. Ian sniggered again.

“Kinky,”

Spencer choked on his drink.

“IAN!”

“Guys, this is a bad idea.” “Spence, you always think it’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah, because that shit usually blows up.” “Hey, you gotta sacrifice some things for innovation!”

“Well, your innovations always catch fire, Ian.”

“Uh, no they don’t.”

“The automatic potato peeler.”

“Self-serving coffee pot.”

“Automatic can opener slash jellybeans dispenser.”

“Oh god, that one was a mess.”

“You guys are all shitheads, you know that, right?”

“Shut up, pipsqueak, and fire it up.” “Don’t tell me what to do, Bryan!”

“10 bucks says it’s gonna blow up.”

“You’re on, Red!”

“Oh, fuck off, guys.”

“If you ain’t moving, I’ll do it myself then.”

“I– wait, Bryan, no! That– ouch! That is very sensitive, you can’t just–!”

“Eh, what could go wrong?”

“I really hate when you say that.”

“Zip it Spencer. Bryan, turn...whatever that is on.”

Sasha sat at her desk in her workshop, sketching up a new watch design, when a sudden explosion shook her room. Not a minute later, a barrage of angry russian floated through her open window, followed by roaring laughter. She shook her head, chuckling slightly.

My, what a handful they are.

She left her seat, sticking her head out of the window.

“Boys!”