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trillian-anders · 5 years ago

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four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 16k

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

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

2018

What a fucking asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want triple.”

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

She cried.

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

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

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

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

But it was fine.

It didn’t really matter.

You just wanted to go home.

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

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

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

It doesn’t matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ransom-”

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

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

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

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

100

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

105

110

115

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

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

“Take me home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me my keys.”

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

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

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

“Give me-”

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

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

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

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

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

2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck he was going to kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again.

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

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

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got him regular Trojans.

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

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parents-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More.

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

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

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

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed.

“I’m no better off than you now.”

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

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

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

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

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck.

“No Ransom, you did.”

2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom was disgusting.

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

He was doing this shit on purpose.

And you hated him for it.

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

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

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

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

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

Is she gone yet?

Fucking prick.

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

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

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

Crime of Passion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.”

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

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

Ransom was as good as he was, better even.

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

This was promising.

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

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

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

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

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

Eager replies.

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

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

...and yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every. Night.

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you going to-”

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

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

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

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

“I know.” He swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t ask you to.”

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

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

Fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never gets old.

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

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

It was intense. His love for you.

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

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

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

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

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

He’d bought you a house.

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God he is beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

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

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST //

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

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #Chris Evans

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nightshade-minho · 4 years ago

Text

3021: Starless

-(4)-

Warnings: presence of knives and weapons, android blood. explicit smut: master kink, spanking, rough facefucking, unprotected sex, degradation, light bunny kink, nipple play, creampie, voyeurism (i think? idk hyunjin is listening in on everything-), biting, a punch.

Wc: 6.4k

The alarm forced you awake, and you rolled over in your bed with a groan as you slammed the button violently, the incessant wailing finally stopping. With a sigh, your tired brain tried to remember why you'd set an alarm this early.

Oh. Right. You had a date.

You sat up with a smile on your face, stretching before going over to your closet and wondering what to wear. A part of you really wanted to impress Minho. Finally, you settled on a cute dress you rarely wore. Pulling it on, you looked in the mirror and nodded to yourself in approval. Not bad...

As you finished getting ready, you hovered near your trusty knives on the bedside table. You weren't going to need them on a date...and it wasn't like you could hide them in your dress, either. You shook your head and left them there, going to the living room.

Hyunjin was lying on the couch, his gaze fixed on the netscreen. As he noticed you walk in, he hurriedly switched it off, putting a smile on his face. Frowning, you went over to grab your keys, his shifty behaviour making you suspicious.

"Um, is there anything I should know?"

"What? Nothing! Absolutely nothing." He eyed you up and down, wolf-whistling under his breath. "Damn, who'd you dress up for?"

"That's none of your business. I'll be back later. Again-"

"Don't answer the door for strangers. Got it. I'll be careful. I'm not a toddler, Y/n."

You rolled your eyes as you opened the front door. "Could have had me fooled. Also...I'm tired of you walking around shirtless. I'll get Jisung to bring you some clothes."

Hyunjin smirked, placing his cheek in his palm. "Why, angel? Does it affect you?"

Deciding not to grace him with an answer, you left the apartment, locking it behind you, his chuckle the last thing you hear as you leave.

Minho's eyes lit up as you walked towards him from across the street, your footsteps lazy as you crossed the road.

"Hey there. You look really pretty." He smiled. You looked around, humming. You were downtown, on a long street lined with hawkers and stalls selling everything from netscreens to steaming hot dumplings. It wasn't exactly your first choice for a date night, but it could be fun. It was also very close to your home, so if an emergency were to happen, you'd be able to dash back...

"Thank you. So...what have you got planned?"

"Well, I've always found places like this interesting. Every person here probably has a different story..." he sighed as he looked around the crowd, before dragging his gaze back to you. "I just thought we could take a walk, reach the end of the street. Maybe browse some stalls. What do you think? Cause there's a nice restaurant nearby, so if you don't like it then...." He chewed on his bottom lip, worried that you thought his idea was lame.

"No, this sounds fun. Let's do it." You shrugged. His relieved grin made your heart flutter as he hesitantly took your hand, leading you down the street.

Jisung knocked on the door, clutching the bag in his hands tightly as he waited for Hyunjin to open up. You’d called him and told him to bring Hyunjin ‘some clothes’. Hearing your voice again had made him realize just how much he’d missed you, despite only being away for one night.

When Hyunjin finally opened the door, Jisung lifted an eyebrow as he noted his bare chest, and the tight sweatpants which he remembered seeing you wear on more than one occasion. Could you have...no. Slightly uncomfortable, he ignored the android’s cocky smirk as he pushed past, heading for the couch and dropping the bag there.

“Here are some clothes that hopefully fit you.” He wrinkled his nose, trying to avert his eyes from the scantily clad android. “So...you don’t have to walk around looking like that.”

Hyunjin hummed, taking a banana from the fruit bowl and handing it to Jisung as he sifted through the clothes. “Thank you.” He said simply.

Jisung regarded the banana with disdain, dropping it on the table as he looked around. “Do you...do you know where Y/n went?”

Hyunjin picked up the nervous edge to Jisung’s voice. Hmm.

“I don’t know, she didn’t say. But...my guess is she was going on a date. She dressed up real cute.” He shrugged, grabbing Jisung’s discarded banana and peeling it.

“A...a date?” Jisung swallowed, hating the mass of jealousy clogging his throat. “Y/n never dresses up...”

“Hm.” Hyunjin bit into the banana, talking with his mouth full. “When’s the last time you took a shower, dude?”

Jisung fought the urge to snap, his patience wearing thin. ‘I’m a mechanic, pretty boy. This is what I do for a living.” He wiped off the grease on his chin, looking up. ‘Did I get it?”

Hyunjin tilted his head in amusement. “Uh huh.”

Jisung glared, pausing as his neodisk’s alarm set off. Shit, he had to be back at the workshop in 15 minutes. He had really wanted to ask Hyunjin some questions, though. Why was he hiding from the palace? And how long was he expecting to do it?

“Bye.” Jisung mumbled under his breath, heading for the door. He didn’t know if it was jealousy or an actual fear of being found out...but he needed Hyunjin out of your apartment, as soon as possible.

"Those are fake, right?" You noted, your eyes falling on a stall lined with numerous neodisks and netscreens. "There's no way those are authentic, especially when they only cost that much." You said firmly.

"They most probably are." He shrugged, as you continued walking down the street.

So far, the date was going very well. Minho was funny, good at conversation, and he seemed to care about you a lot. This was the most fun you'd had in ages.

It was nice not having to be riddled with worries and burdens. For once in your life, someone else was taking the lead. It felt liberating.

The two of you had already consumed a fair amount of dumplings as well as managed to piss off every other person in the Sound Sensitivity stall, when your neodisk's extremely loud ringtone sliced through the silence, causing you to stumble and knock over an entire shelf of deflectors. Needless to say, the two of you were now banned from that particular stall.

You regretted pushing him away, wishing you'd given him the chance to show this side of him before.

"Oh look!" Your eyes suddenly focused an array of jewelry, laid across the table, most of the pieces looking suspiciously authentic.

"That looks interesting. Wait, look at those..." He said slowly, pulling you to the stall and running his finger over the item that had caught his eye right away.

You peered around him, letting out a small gasp as you saw what he was looking at.

There were a pair of beautiful, delicate rings lying on the table. Wow. You found yourself wondering about the history behind them. They seemed to be really ancient.

Minho took one in his hand, inspecting it as he turned it around. "Wow. This looks like a real ruby...if it's fake, then it's very well made."

"Are they wedding rings?" You noticed in awe as he handed the other, more petite one to you. Turning it over, you made a small sound of appreciation.

Unable to control the temptation, you slid the ring down your finger, raising your hand to look at it. It was so beautiful...

"Do you really like it?"

"I do..."

"Then buy it."

"I didn't bring any crescents with me." You sigh, moving to take the ring off. "It's okay-"

"No! Just...wait. Let me find out how much it costs, okay?" He quickly stepped into the stall before you could protest. You sighed, continuing to look through the rest of the jewelry as Minho found the shop owner, sitting at the back in a chair. He noticed her blinker, realizing she was an android. Fuck, she wouldn't be easy to bargain with.

"How much are these?" He asked, raising up the ring.

The woman paused, squinting at it before nodding. "If you want the pair, 1021 crescents."

Minho groaned inwardly. He didn't want to let you down...but if you knew he bought something that expensive for you on the first date, you would probably be weirded out. It's not like you knew how rich he was.

Sighing, Minho nodded. "Okay, I'll buy them." The lady nodded, handing him the crescent processor. He punched in his code, the woman taking the device back as it let out a tiny ping.

"All yours." She said, turning around and going back to her chair. Minho bowed gratefully before heading out again.

He walked over to you, smiling. "I got them."

"Oh, how much were they??"

Shit.

"Um, only 15 crescents."

You hummed in approval, smiling as he slid his ring on as well. "Wow, that's less than I expected for rings this intricate, but I guess this place isn't a certified jewelry store or anything. It makes sense."

"Yeah." He swallowed. He didn't like lying to you, even if it was just a tiny white lie...but he'd gotten used to lying. The smile on your face as you looked at him was enough, though. He watched you observe the glinting ring on your finger, swallowing. Maybe he should tell you those were real, and not a cheap knock-off...but no, you might think it's weird and return it. He definitely didn’t want that. Something about you wearing the ring he bought for you was making his heart thud impossibly fast.

His smile grew wider as you grabbed his hand again, tugging gently. "I'm hungry." You pouted.

"Didn't we just eat, princess?"

"Well yeah, but we didn't have dessert..." You mumbled, looking up. He smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Okay, let's go get something sweet. Like what, though?"

You looked around, your eyes falling on an ice cream truck right across you, letting out a sound of happiness in the process. Minho followed your gaze, smiling as he saw the stall.

"Do you want ice-cream, hm, baby?" He teased. You nodded, flashing him doe eyes as he tried to maintain his control, your innocent expression affecting him in a way he couldn't quite describe.

The two of you made your way to the stall.

After a lot of thought, you decided on a pinkberry popsicle. Minho chose not to have one, claiming he didn't have much of a sweet tooth.

You walked down the street, swinging Minho's hand lightly as you licked and sucked on your popsicle with fervor. It'd been so long since you had ice cream of any sort, choosing to ration your crescents to buy what really mattered. Humming under your breath, you glanced up at him, only to find his gaze burning into you, his expression having changed.

Minho tried to ignore the heat rushing south as you swirled your tongue around the tip of the popsicle, seemingly oblivious to the effect you were having on him. But no, you’d noticed.

You averted your eyes from him, his heavy stare causing your insides to twist. You tried your best to consume the ice-cream in a less...provocative manner, but it wasn't as easy as it sounds.

Eh, fuck it. You might as well have some fun with it.

You licked a stripe up the base of the popsicle to the top, sucking on it as you looked up at him, winking.

When his eyes darkened considerably, you knew you'd been playing a dangerous game. Minho kept his eyes firmly locked on the street in front of him, his hand tight around yours as he chose to ignore you.

You sighed under your breath at your failure to rile him up, choosing to finish your ice-cream silently as the crowd started thinning out, the two of you nearing the end of the street.

The road was now quiet, and the absence of the bustling noise you'd grown accustomed to around these parts made the atmosphere even more intense. You carefully avoided eye contact with Minho as you discarded the naked popsicle stick into a waiting trashmachine, not wanting to see his expression.

"You really seemed to be enjoying that ice-cream." He said lowly, his tone sparking something carnal in your lower half. God.

To tell the truth, you weren't big on sex. The only passion you'd ever harboured was toward your knives...So the deep arousal settling itself in your core was surprising, to say the least.

What did you have to lose?

"I was. It was delicious." You mumbled, leaning in closer to him and working up your courage.

"I'd rather taste something else, though."

Minho swore under his breath at your boldness. That was it, he couldn't hold himself back anymore. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you into an empty alley, pushing you up against the wall as his eyes bore into yours.

"Naughty kitten. I didn't expect this from you." He mumbled almost to himself, his finger coming up to tilt your chin higher, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"I like the bold ones, though." He whispered in your ear. His proximity was blindingly intoxicating, and you let out a small whimper when you felt his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

Minho's eyebrow raised. "What was that?" He let out a drawn out chuckle. "I barely did anything, kitten. Why are you already so riled up?

"I'm not."

His finger brushed across your cheek as he cupped it gently, his lips forming into a mock pout. "Your face is redder than a tomato...I guess I finally managed to fluster you. Yay me." He mumbled, his eyes on your lips.

"I never get f-flustered. Especially not by you."

Minho paused, his smirk growing wider as he noticed the way you couldn't quite look at his face, the slight tremble of your lip as you uttered the lie.

"Sure, whatever you say." Minho leaned in until his bottom lip brushed against yours. He found himself relishing the blown out innocence in your expression. For once, you didn't look completely self assured, confident you know what happens next. The light helplessness he had thrust you into was turning him on even more.

Your lips parted as you stared up at him, too shy to make the first move.

Inhaling, Minho let out a soft sigh. His breath tickled your chin as he finally molded his lips with yours, gently.

Your eyes blew wide as his admittedly soft mouth moved against yours, slowly drifting closed as you kissed him back. He tasted so sweet...

Minho's hands snaked behind you, gripping the backs of your thighs as he lifted you up, slotting himself between your legs.

"I've been wanting to do this for such a long time..." he mumbled against your lips, teeth pulling on your bottom lip as he stared into your eyes.

You held onto him tightly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing your lips back to his, parting yours. The two of you made out, each swipe of his tongue drawing out a moan from you, making you want more.

He broke away after a few minutes, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours.

"You-"

You were interrupted as he rolled his hips into yours out of nowhere, the thick bulge in his pants rubbing against your clothed folds. Letting out a choked moan, you whined softly, bucking your hips as your mind begged for more.

"Patience, kitten."

"I'm p-patient."

He raised an eyebrow, one hand sliding up your dress to cup your breast, his thumb running over your covered nipple and drawing out another whimper from you.

"Really? Doesn't seem like it."

"Please-"

"Please, what?"

"Please make me f-feel good." You managed to get out, looking up at him with pleading eyes and making him swear as he let go of you, setting you on the ground again as he pulled you out of the alley, his grip on your wrist firm as he walked to your apartment as fast as he could.

Fuck, it hurt. But it had to be done. Hyunjin stared at the bloody tracker in the sink. Setting the knife down, he breathed out slowly.

Smashing it with his fist, he made sure it was destroyed before tossing it into your trash can and sighing. He used his elbow to wipe the drops of blue on the counter. Shit, he was going to need a shower after this.

No matter what, one thing was for sure. He couldn’t let them find him.

Never.

As the two of you got closer to your apartment, your addled brain suddenly remembered the fact that you were hiding the royal android in your apartment- and here you were, bringing someone who worked for the government right to him. Damn it, all the making out had made you forget.

You stopped in your tracks right in front of your front door, Minho turning to you with a raised eyebrow at your hesitation.

"Open the door, Y/n."

"I...um..." you tried to gather your thoughts together. You couldn't send him away now. Fuck. You were already in too deep, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't need him inside you right away.

"I...um, my room is really messy. Uh, just let me go in and clean it a bit-"

Minho let out a low growl, trapping you against your door as he leaned in. "I don't give a shit about your room, kitten. I just want to fuck you until you're dumb and begging me for more."

You looked up at him, mouth opening slightly as you tried to think of what to say, his words effectively rendering you mute.

"P-please?" You managed to get out, pouting up at him. Minho's expression softened slightly, and he stepped back slowly with a sigh. "Fine. Go ahead." He leaned against the wall, raising an eyebrow at you. "Be quick. I don't want to stay out in this hallway with a boner any longer than I have to."

You smiled gratefully, quickly unlocking your door and shutting it behind you as you went into your apartment. Swearing under your breath, you quickly searched your tiny apartment, unable to find Hyunjin. Your heart started beating faster as you wondered where the tall android could have possibly gone.

Finally, you found him in your bathroom.

Naked.

"What the f- Hyunjin! I thought I told Jisung to get you clothes-"

"He did. I can't take a shower clothed, though, right?" Hyunjin smirked, clutching your towel in his fingers as he glanced up at your red cheeks.

"You look worked up."

"It's not because of you." You hissed, and the man scoffed. "Whatever you say, princess."

Your eyes widened as you heard your front door open, cursing.

Fuck this. You really didn't have time for this bullshit.

"Stay. Quiet." You snapped quietly, ignoring Hyunjin's confused expression as you quickly darted out of the bathroom, locking the door from the outside as you leaned against it, trying to seem nonchalant.

Minho walked in, his eyes falling on your messy bed as he pulled his shirt off, making you gulp at the sight of his chiselled torso.

"Well, you didn't really do a good job of cleaning, did you?" He laughed. "It's okay, I don't blame you."

He came over to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he tilted your chin up. "I'm going to ruin this pretty face of yours." He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours again as you whimpered against him. He groaned, his hands roughly kneading the flesh of your ass as he deepened the kiss even further.

He bit your lip again, his hand coming down to your thigh to lift it higher, his bulge gaining better access to your heat. "Fuck, I can feel how wet you are. Tell me, baby. How do you want me?"

You whined, the words stuck in your throat. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin's presence in the bathroom, and the fact that he was overhearing all of this.

Minho's hand suddenly came down on your rear, a sharp smack that snapped you out of your thoughts, making you yelp. "Answer my question." He growled.

All your hesitation melted away in that moment. You were too far gone.

"I w-want you, Master."

Minho's eyes widened a little at the title, swallowing as he noted your embarrassed expression at what had slipped out. He felt himself get harder, his pants constricting him uncomfortably.

A smirk grew on his face as he picked you up, kissing you as he sat down on your bed with you on his lap. “Good girl.”

You grinded down on him, moaning softly at the feeling of his erection. "M-master, I wanna taste you..."

He looked up at you, nodding. "Whatever you want, kitten. Get master's cock all wet, hm?"

You slithered down, unzipping his pants hastily. Consumed with the need to feel him, you pulled down his briefs as quickly as you could, the sight of his cock drawing out a groan from you.

Long and pink, a bead of pre-cum rested on its tip. Unable to control yourself, you leaned in and swiped your tongue over it, humming at the taste.

Minho threw his head back, the view of your soft lips wrapping around the head of his cock making him feel drunk on an emotion he never knew existed. On instinct, his fingers curled in your hair, making you take him even deeper.

You tried to focus on your breathing as Minho's cock hit the back of your throat, pulling on your hair roughly as he started fucking into you. "That's right." He hissed. "Little slut. Take this fucking cock-"

He grunted, reaching down to pull on your top, exposing more of your cleavage to him. Scared he was going to rip your dress, you reached behind you to unzip it.

Minho let you pull off his cock for a second, helping you slide the offending material off. As soon as you managed to get the dress on the floor, his hold on your hair was back, shoving you all the way down on his cock once more.

The lack of oxygen was making you lightheaded, as Minho resumed his almost cruelly rough thrusts. You loved it, though. The heat between your thighs was demanding your attention, but you just couldn't bring yourself to pull away yet. Just a little more...fuck, his groans above you sounded so heavenly. You wished you could hear them everyday.

Minho finally seemed to take some mercy on you, his grip on your hair tightening as he slid his cock out of your mouth slowly, inch by inch.

"Pretty." He mumbled, his thumb running over your lip, slick with his juices. You let out a mewl, wanting him to ruin you already. You wanted to be fucked stupid, like he said. Wanted to be his helpless little doll.

It scared you, how much you were willing to give away all your power to this man. Throw away any semblance of control, just to not be able to make decisions for once, for someone else to take care of you for a change.

Minho pulled you onto his lap, playing with the waistband of your panties as he gazed into your eyes. "I'm going to have my way with you, sweetheart." He said, pulling your panties off with a sudden, almost eerie calmness. ‘And you’re going to take it all like a good slut, hm?”

Minho's hands on your hips guided you over his cock, and your breath hitched as you feel his tip pressing against the velvet of your folds, his eyes falling on your chest. ‘Y-yes, Master.”

Minho's lips latched around your clothed nipple, nibbling on it gently as he pulled your other breast out of its cup, toying with the bud.

"Master..."

"Hm?" His eyes shot up to yours, and you're shocked at how different they look. Dark, filled with irate lust and an apparent need to claim you.

"I need you."

"Beg for it."

You swallowed, hesitation filling you. You looked up at the ceiling as your brain reminded you for a second about the asshole in the other room who was most likely having a field day eavesdropping. He was probably really enjoying it. You wouldn't put it past him.

The image of his dick, that you'd accidentally stolen a glance of, suddenly flashed in your head, turning you redder. It was beautiful...almost weirdly so. Inhumanely perfect. Obviously, it was manufactured to be, but that didn't mean you weren't going to-

Minho's squeeze on your ass cheek brought you back to the present, confusion filling you as you looked back down at the man, his head tilted as he glared at you.

Why the fuck were you thinking about that pain in the ass, when you had this god of a human underneath you? Honestly, Y/n, get it together.

“I told you to beg.”

You felt your uncertainty melt away as you inhaled, the neediness making a reappearance.

"Want my p-pussy destroyed. Want master to fill me up. Make me his." You said softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He buried his nose in your neck, humming in content. "Good girl. My good girl." He mumbled against your skin, lining his cock up with your entrance, pumping himself as he did so.

You let out a strangled moan as you felt him push his rigid length into you slowly, your walls hugging him tightly as you tried to adjust to the feeling. "F-fuck-"

"It feels good, doesn't it?" He said, tone a little softer compared to before. You nodded desperately as his hands found your waist, moving you and forcing you to take more of his cock, until you were sitting on him, him entirely inside of you.

Was sex always supposed to feel this good? It was almost euphoric, how good his length felt, stretching your pussy to its absolute limit. The pleasure shot through you, filling you up completely. Using your waist as leverage, he slowly started fucking up into you. Slow at first, and then his thrusts turned more animalistic, stretching your ass cheeks to take you deeper.

"It feels a-amazing, Master." You were finding it hard to speak incoherently, the sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room as you descended into a flurry of whines, as he bit your boobs, his lips kissing everything he could reach.

His mouth found yours again eventually, his lips parting yours as he pulled you close to him, your bodies sweaty and pressed together.

“Shit...”

Minho growled into the kiss, flipping you around and hovering over you as he lifted one leg over his shoulder, the new angle enabling him to hit your sweet spot accurately. The sight of your pussy twitching around his cock, stretching to accommodate all of him, was pushing him closer to the edge. You were perfect. So fucking perfect.

Minho had imagined having sex with you before. He'd never imagined it would be this heavenly, though. You were a completely different person now, the snark having disappeared completely. There were small whimpers falling out of your mouth, rather than the sarcastic comebacks he'd gotten used to hearing.

"My cute little slut. My bunny. Fuck." He snarled at the feeling of you clenching around him, his words driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. "You like this? Being a little whore for your master?"

You nodded in desperation, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he drove his cock into you like he was possessed. And he was, his emotions blurring as he felt you tilt your head back.

Minho bent down over you, hurriedly removing your bra and throwing it on the floor. He needed to see all of you. Running his hands over your boobs, he bit your neck, running his tongue over the marks he was making.

"I...I'm going to cum-" You cried out, raking your nails down his back as you squirmed. He held you down, your expression pushing him impossibly closer to his high. Minho frowned as he felt his heart pound. Even when he was inside you, he somehow wanted to get even closer to you. Groaning, he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. The metal of the ring he’d got you brushed against his skin, making his heartbeat accelerate.

For a second, he wondered why you were even letting him fuck you. Was this going to be a one time thing? Or did you really like him?

Did you want to be with him?

Minho opened his mouth, a groan leaving him as he looked at the spot where you two were connected. "Y/n..."

You looked up at him, quivering as you felt your orgasm overtaking you, hitting you full force. Waves of pleasure crashed through you as you tried to listen to Minho, your brain a mushy mess as your orgasm forced you to forget how to breathe.

"Y/n, I love..." Minho frowned, trailing off as he continued thrusting. No...fuck, he was too scared.

"...your pussy. Taking me in so well. Cum all over Master, there you go..." Feeling the sparks of pleasure in his abdomen build, Minho rutted into your limp body, desperately chasing his high. Maybe some other time.

"M-master...want your cum, please..." you whispered into his ear, unable to take the overstimulation for any longer. You felt him pounding into your sensitive pussy, the sensation overwhelming you.

"Fuck, take it then, bunny-" Minho growled, slamming into you as he came. You whimpered, feeling him paint you white. The stars behind your eyes faded slowly as you blinked, Minho's face a blur above you.

He rode out his high, collapsing gently on top of you, his head in the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss on the sensitive skin. Panting heavily, Minho lifted himself up, his eyes running over your naked body as he pulled out.

"You're beautiful." He mumbled, thumb stroking your wet cheek. You smiled weakly, sitting up a little. Minho followed your gaze to your pussy, his cum dribbling out from between your folds and forming a small pool on the mattress.

"Hm, we need to get you all cleaned up." He stood up. "Do you want to take a shower?"

You almost nodded, but then you suddenly remembered. Fuck.

"N-no! I...I'm tired. Cuddles?" You held your hands out to him, pouting as innocently as you could. Minho shook his head, grinning as he grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulling it on.

"Fine, just tell me where you keep the towels, then." He said, heading towards the door of your bathroom. Oh god.

You jumped up on your wobbly legs, stumbling a little as you went over to him and grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked at you, an eyebrow raised at your weird behaviour. You opened your mouth, wondering what to say.

A sudden sharp ring cut through the silence, coming from his discarded pants on the floor. You let go of Minho as he crouched down to pull his neodisk out of his pocket, frowning at the screen.

Oh no.

"Shit. Uh....Y/n, I've got to go." He looked at you in concern, clutching the device in his hand as he sighed, barely concealing his frustration. "Will you be okay?"

You tried to conceal your curiosity, knowing this would be to your advantage. No longer having to come up with an excuse, you nodded quickly, answering affirmatively. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

Minho quickly pulled his pants on as your eyes surreptitiously glanced at the bathroom door. You thanked whoever was up there for the distraction, watching as Minho clothed himself hurriedly.

Glancing back at you, Minho bit his lip. He really didn't want to leave you like this. He wanted to hold you close, wanted to kiss your face and tell you what a good girl you'd been for him. But he was helpless.

He needed one more kiss, though. Now that he'd tasted your soft lips, he wasn't sure he could stop himself from wanting to kiss you all the time. You'd always been intoxicating, but now you were even more so.

Walking to you, he grabbed your cheeks, staring into your eyes, his own straying down to your lips. Leaning in, he kissed you, soft and sweet.

"See you tomorrow, baby." He mumbled against your lips, giving you a half-hearted smile before turning around to leave. You sighed as he left, your heart cursing Hyunjin.

As soon as the door closed behind him, you twisted around, pulling on your clothes and walking quickly over to your bathroom. Your hand paused on the handle, as you felt the embarrassment bubbling up again. Whatever. Suck it up, Y/n.

You still craved Minho, wanted him to wrap you in his strong arms and make you feel safe. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself to snap back to the present. There was nothing you could do.

Hyunjin raised his head as you opened the door, his infuriating smirk still on display. And he was still fucking naked.

“Well, you seemed like you were having fun out there.”

“I was.” You snapped, shaking your head. “Did...did you really hear everything?”

Hyunjin stood up, walking close to you. Again, too close. He seemed to like invading your personal bubble.

“M-master, I n-need you~” He mocked, making his voice high-pitched in an attempt to mock you. Your glare grew icier. He shrugged, voice back to normal. “But you still sounded really hot. I bet I could make you feel even better, though. Make you moan louder.” His tone dropped deeper on that last sentence, making you swallow as you stepped away.

“Fuck off.” You muttered, trying to not show your expression on your face. “Now get out. I need a shower.”

He smiled. “A-”

“If the next sentence out of your mouth is a suggestion to join me, no thanks.” You grumbled. He chuckled at that, shaking his head as he eyed your limp with contempt.

“No, I was just asking if you were hungry. I have a million different recipes embedded in my memory, and I wanted to try and cook today. You know, as a thank you for letting me stay.”

You paused, turning your head and sighing. “Well, I’m not that hungry...but sure, go ahead.”

He smiled, bowing. “You won’t be disappointed, princess.”

You grimaced as he left, stripping naked once more as you stepped into the shower, not wanting to think about the possible feelings you had for Minho or Hyunjin and his annoyingly stressful presence in your house. You really had to ask him what he was planning on doing sometime soon. How long would this be going on?

Minho knocked carefully on the door to his father’s study, his heart pounding.

“Come in.”

He swallowed slowly, shoving the door open. His father was sat at his desk, his table piled with documents.

“You needed me?” He asked, voice quiet.

“You were supposed to hand out the Phantoms’ equipment today.”

Fuck. “I...well, I handed it over to Mr. Kim. He said he would-”

“Minho.” He turned around, rubbing his forehead, his face filled with exasperation. “Minho. You had one job. Oversee the Phantom processes. You’re the supervisor. You were supposed to be there, son.”

Minho let out a shaky exhale, looking down at his feet. “I know. I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time.” He promised.

“You better. Or I won’t pay heed to the fact that you’re my son. Now tell me, what was so important that you had to ditch official government business?”

Minho didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Fiddling with the ring on his finger nervously, he tried to come up with an excuse. But it was useless.

“That’s what I thought. Good night.” His father dismissed him with a disappointed sigh, turning back to his work. And that was that.

Minho left for his bedroom, blinking back tears of frustration as he climbed onto his bed. Taking the ring and his earrings off, he stripped to his underwear, burying his face in his pillow. He let his thoughts drift to you again, like they usually did this time of night. Usually he'd just be slipping into reveries and imagining you as his. Except this time, there was the tiniest bit of hope that you liked him back. He still couldn’t believe he’d kissed you. Fucked you.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, despite it all. He really did love you, and he was willing to take his father's wrath over and over again if it meant he could keep you in his life.

Hyunjin let out a groan as soon as you close your bathroom door, rushing over to the sink as he felt his body burn up again. He didn’t know what was happening. He’d dug out the tracker in his wrist a while ago, but the overheating still hadn’t ceased.

Advanced android. Hyunjin let out a bitter chuckle. If only they knew. If only they fucking knew what the ‘royal android’ actually was.

He opened the fridge, the cool air calming him down. Ahh, that was much better. He let out a satisfied hum after a few minutes, feeling cooler.

He turned around, wanting to make his way to your room to apologize for his earlier behaviour. It hadn't been his intention to flirt with you endlessly, to the point of annoyance. But now that he'd started, he found it hard to stop.

His mind replayed your moans and whimpers from before. He'd been telling the truth back then. Although he liked playing off his flirting as jovial, there was a small part of him that definitely meant every word. You were a beautiful woman after all, how could he not be attracted to you?

Consumed in his thoughts, he almost didn't see it coming. The punch to his face was sudden and powerful.

The force of it was strong, and so searingly painful he screwed his eyes shut as he gave out, slowly rocking back and forth before crashing onto the floor. Flickering lights, and a robotic whirr...the shock barely had enough time to sink in as he desperately tried to make sense of what his eyes were seeing.

Before he could, everything went black.

#minho smut #lee know smut #hyunjin angst #minho angst #jisung angst #han angst #skz smut #stray kids smut #jisung fluff #minho fluff #hyunjin fluff #skz series

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years ago

Text

Gale Reviews: Miraculous World: New York

(The following review contains spoilers, and if you would like to not be spoiled, I would recommend watching the episode before reading)

(I had to pause a LOT to get through this special)

-Oh s*** Cosmo bug and Astro Noir. That is so cool.

-Okay maybe its my audio, but their voices seem a bit deeper. No big, just something I noticed.

-Okay the yellow flower was cute. Good on you kitty.

- Also, side note. This is very nice animation. Very crisp.

- Marinette is moving on... kinda. Well, she is trying. Its not easy getting over someone you have a thing for. I guess that means Miracle Queen did happen and I will need to suck it up. But.... I am not moving on yet either.

- The puppet show was perfection. And honestly on par with what you would expect from middle school projects. (I almost thought it was the adults showing them and was like WTF)

-BACK THE F***. Madame Bustier is PREGNANT! PREGNANT?! I am so lost? What is the story!? Who is the father! Is she married? Is it artificial insemination! Is it the principal?

-Adrien so moved by Marinette’s outburst of Friendship. Marinette ‘Just a friend’ Dupain-Cheng is going the Tia Gardner method of friendship. Lol

-Marinette ready to fight and Gabriel just like ‘Yea sure whatever’ (Gabriel’s smile murders puppies)

- Kagami trying to cheer adrien up. If you love adrigami, get that juice. (That looked like a kiss kiss, but the angle seemed off, so I am not counting it that way.)

- Kitty Clicker is wonderful. This entire scene is gold.

- Gorrilla doesnt like planes, poor baby

- Plagg, you are a devious little s***. I love you so much. As a writer, his dialogue on how to convince adrien is so devilish its amazing. Using technicalities to tempt adrien.

-Lukanette shippers get your juice... even if it was still tainted a bit by Adrien inclusion. You still get a kiss.

- Okay, can we appreciate that Adrien is also having the same amount of trouble as Marinette moving on, but also include Guilt into the equation? I love this because you KNOW Chat noir is going to get an ear full later.

-Marinette has totally moved on from Adrien.... Oh my poor sweet little girl. You havent. You havent even a little. This ride is litterally the reverse of Startrain and its amazing. Alya is NOT helping. Also, give the person that drew Marinette’s Daydreams a f***ing raise. They earned it

-Marinette pulling herself OUT of the situation. Now adrien is slightly bummed out. Well i am sure that this is the last awkward experience with Adrien she will have. It isnt like the two of them will get lost in NY together... thats whats gonna happen isnt it?

-Marinette walking past all the couples sleeping together. JULROSE GET YOUR JUICE!!!

-Ah yes, nothing like watching the sunset with your good friend. Yes, you good pal, Adrien. Who is Just a friend. Wow, the realization that Marinette used the word friend in this movie more times then Adrien did in the entire series so far. (Or at the very least close)

- Adrien, STOP! Marinette is trying to move on from you! Stop making it so damn difficult for her. (I am not serious, i am eating this s*** up like Sushi)

-Nino confirms he loves Adrien. ADRINO COME GET YOUR JUICE! But yea, I feel alya and Nino’s pain. So they are going to help them both.

-Adrienette hugs. Yes, good.

-And thank goodness for Techno Pirate! Saving everyone from awkwardness by trying to bring down a plane... thats heading for NY...

-OH SWEET! BATMAN RIP OFF AND Captain Marvel rip off! And their sidekicks, Robin rip off and... Medusa girl? Okay Neat.

-Jokes aside, Majestia and Night Owl are boss as hell.

-Wow, I know that Ladybug and Chat noir got powerups now. But these United Heroes make their powers look so bland in comparison.

-Get rekt France!

-ADRIEN! DONT USE YOUR PHONE ON AN AIRPLANE! Well, unless he is using the in flight wifi, then he good.

-How come New York has a f*** ton of superheroes in this universe? America really gets all the cool stuff regardless of what fictional universe your in.

- Why are the superheroes so keen on watching over Marinette’s class? Do they know? Do they know Marinette and Adrien are there? Or is it like they just want to prevent an international incident. PLEASE LET IT BE THE LATER.

- I have only had Aeon for 15 seconds and I would violently murder anyone who harms her.

-Oh my Sabrina! GET YOURSELF AN AMERICAN BOY! ... And Chloé is going to ruin the fun. Oof tough break roomies.

-The entire class! I cant even! Not even a second after the door closes they out to party on the roof!

-Aeon, “See? They are made for eachother!”

- Damn, now that’s some guitar playing! Plus Her design is boss as heck. America really just has better versions of EVERYTHING.

-American boy basically snuck in to see Sabrina! GET IT GIRL!

-HOTDOG SUPERHERO! WITH MAGIC HOTDOGS!!!!!! BEST NEW YORK EVER!

-Nino and Alya be tag teaming this!

-Wow Zag, you stuffing me full of Adrinette goodness. Gorilla is a beautiful sunflower.

- Marinette and Adrien havent been in the US 24 hours and they already have two shippers of them. Also, what do doors have against them?

-Jess is Shipping it too hard. “Lets put them in danger!”

-Jess is having way too much fun with this.

-Hawkmoth akumatizing an actual Super villain. FINALLY!

- “Wouldn’t you rather have an Atomic Bomb?” I love Techno pirate.

-”Super Heroes should never use their powers for personal gain.” Hmmm I wonder how this will back fire on everyone involved.

-”OH S*** HE STOLE THEIR CANNONS! BOOM GOES THE CANNONS!”

-Okay, I take back what I said, these heroes need some Miraculous asap.

- Ladybug is 100% justified in being angry with Chat Noir. It is his fault.

-AEON!!!! NO!!!!!!! Okay, guess i have to kill that techno pirate, and Chat noir

-MAJESTIA IS F***ING PISSED! WRECK HIM MAJESTIA!

- Seems they really hammering it in that Chat noir f***ed up. They right though, but at least Ladybug isnt angry enough to agree that Chat noir should give up his miraculous to some rando. FLEEING FROM THE LAW!

-So lucky charm can only fix damage due to specific villains. It cant fix things when the villain is gone or they are out of range. I always knew it had limitations, but damn. Chat noir REALLY screwed the pooch on this one.

-Adrien no! Oh s***! He cant just... I mean.... He can but...

__________

-Gabriel stole the Eagle! The Kwami of Freedom. The irony is so delicious here.

- So night Owl and Sparrow are both chick with Masculine superhero appearances. Thats actually pretty damn smart, great way to keep people off their identity.

-Welp, i am depressed. Adrien doesnt have Plagg.

-EVEN THE PRESIDENT IS A SUPER HERO! AMAZING!

- So an akumatized person can USE A MIRACULOUS WHILE AKUMATIZED! WHAT THE F*** THATS AWESOME. Also why didnt catalyst do that?

-Gabriel actually getting adrien out of there while before s*** hits the fan. That is actually kind of a decent parenting move. Granted he is going to cause it, but appreciate it.

-Marinette the bike thief is back! And she is an international criminal!

- She tried so hard. Welp I am glad that Marinette is clearly over... actually no. This trip made that clear.

-Liberation, Wow. That is the most American power I have ever seen. I LOVE IT.

- Okay, so I never thought i would say this. maybe there is such a thing as too much freedom? Or at least Freedom that lets you impede on Other people’s freedoms.

- I know what Zag is up to, and it is working. I want a tv series Of Jess and Aeon. They are wonderful.

-So Majestia can casually move the moon. Yea, thats amazing and terrifying! I love her.

-Quantum masking! So there is a glamor effect! I knew it! So Aeon knows who ladybug and Chat noir are.

-DID I F***ING MENTION I WOULD MURDER FOR AEON!

-aeon will never see Tikki or plagg. Thats so sad.

-At least Adrien learned an important lesson.

-Cute LADYNOIR REUNION

-The was clever, using the keychain

- Eagle jess is epic.

-and Majestia can catch missles. Considering she can move the moon. Not surprising.

-OH DAMN, Night owl and Sparrow are LEGACY HEROES! Thats like the Phantom, Or like Jojo.

-That was sweet of Marinette and the class.

-Oh so the guardian of those miraculous came back to claim it.

-But now sounds like the set up for a new series.

____________________________________________________________________

Overall, I did greatly enjoy this movie. Though there were times i wanted to know more, and times I wanted to know less. I know this takes place sometime during season 4, but the exact time is vague. It did tell a really cool story. It felt like a three episode saga combined into one. It was kind of interesting. And damn the drama was higher.

I give it a 7.5/10.

I would rate it up there with my favorite ML episodes.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml ny special #miraculous world:#New york #ml ny #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years ago

Text

To Dye For

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Toya & Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Family Genre: Gen, Angst, Canon Compliant, Random Encounters, Character Study Word Count: 1.6k | AO3 Link

Synopsis: Natsuo encounters a mysterious man in the hair care products aisle at the grocery store.

Warning: The following contains mild spoilers for the Endeavor Agency Arc and the Paranormal Liberation War Arc.

Natsuo stared at his reflection in the mirror and frowned.

As a college student, hustle and bustle filled his everyday life. He attended classes, studied diligently, moved from one deadline to another, and participated in extracurricular activities. It was a lot to get used to at first, but the newfound freedom he had was nothing short of amazing. He could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Natsuo had spare time, he would usually spend it going on dates with his girlfriend or visiting Rei at the hospital together with Fuyumi. As of late, however, he had little time to do either. School activities had caused his schedule to become more hectic. The upcoming final exams would signal the end of the academic year, and Natsuo had a lot of tasks to accomplish in preparation for them.

He had been so preoccupied with his responsibilities that before he knew it, the streaks at the sides of his hair had grown crimson.

Growing up, Natsuo detested the crimson strands on his head. He didn’t mind how they stood out against his predominantly white hair at first, but as his hatred for his father grew, the sentiment spread to the biological traits he inherited from him. He loathed how those crimson streaks were the same shade as his father’s. In time, Natsuo despised how their resemblance was uncanny. People had always pointed out how his face and frame looked like a younger version of Enji. It was one of his pet peeves.

Natsuo would never forget how, for a long while, he was prohibited from visiting his mother at the hospital because she couldn’t bear to see him. He reminded her too much of Enji, even though his father was as good as a stranger to him. Natsuo wasn’t like him at all, but even if that was the truth, his physical appearance alone was an undeniable indication that he was his son.

When he was in his early teens, he started bleaching and dyeing the six streaks of his hair white. He had a way to lessen his likeness to his father, and he took the opportunity to do so. Now, truth be told, Natsuo had come to the point where he was unused to seeing his crimson hair. It was an odd feeling, but he had learned to live with it.

In retrospect, he should’ve requested a touch-up last week when he went for a haircut at the barbershop, but he had been in a rush. He disliked freeloaders and didn’t want to be one, so he prioritized attending the group meeting he had instead. With a sigh, he shook his head but didn’t regret his choice. He considered dropping by the barbershop again but thought otherwise. He could do it by himself. It had been a while since he had done the bleaching process on his own, but it was simple enough. He could do it.

Natsuo slipped his navy blue coat on and went on his way to the grocery store near his dormitory. The winter chill felt soothing and nice against his skin. It eased his mind and relieved the stress he was under, and he felt glad he decided to go out today.

At the grocery store, he proceeded to the aisle of hair care products and grabbed his favorite brand of hair bleach kit. He hummed to the tune of the music playing through the speakers and looked around, wondering if the hair bleach kit would suffice since he had the other products he needed in the dormitory. Now that he thought about it, he could do some grocery shopping as well. He should get a shopping cart.

A fellow customer entered the area he was standing on. The lanky man wore a hooded jacket that covered the majority of his face. He had his hands inside his pockets as he browsed the shelves.

The man seemed to be someone around Natsuo’s age, more or less. Natsuo was taller than him but granted, he was taller and burlier than most of his peers. He wondered if he was also a college student like him and, if so, if he attended the same institution he did. Natsuo attempted to catch a glimpse of the man’s face but failed. The stranger wore sunglasses, obscuring his features even further, except for the ebony hair hanging across his forehead. Although uncertain, Natsuo considered the possibility of this stranger’s covered-up attire being connected to his Quirk.

With a gloved hand, the man picked up a box of black hair dye and read the description on the packaging.

Oh, no, Natsuo thought, Anything but that one.

“Hey, man,” Natsuo called, approaching the stranger in a friendly manner. “I wouldn’t recommend that brand. The quality isn’t very good.”

The man stiffened but, nevertheless, replied, “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I used that brand when I dyed my hair blond when I was younger, and it completely faded after a few washes.”

“Why?”

“Well, as I said, the quality is—”

“Not that,” the man interjected, not bothering to face Natsuo fully, “Why would you dye your hair blond?”

“Ah, well… to piss my old man off,” Natsuo admitted.

“Why?”

“He has this… rivalry with a certain blond man, so he hates him. I thought it would irritate him.”

Natsuo was oversharing, and he knew it. His hand came up to rub the nape of his neck as he chuckled in mild embarrassment. He had nothing to be embarrassed about when he was just answering the man’s question, right?

To his surprise, the man probed, curious about his story, “And? Did it do the trick?”

“Nah.” Natsuo shook his head. “He just glared at me for a bit and went back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The man let out a humorless chuckle. “Figures.”

Looking back, Natsuo realized how petty of a prank that was. Of course, the man would think so, too. “Yeah.”

There was a lull in the conversation. The man shifted his head to look at Natsuo.

Natsuo was unable to see the man’s face due to his sunglasses, but he could feel his eyes as they traveled from the hair bleach kit in his hand and then to his hair.

The stranger’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh. He turned away and placed the low-quality hair dye back on the shelf.

Natsuo scanned the items near him and pointed to a certain section. “If you’d like a really good hair dye, this is the brand I’d recommend.”

“There’s no need.” At a leisurely pace, the man turned around and made his way to the shelf across them, grabbing a medium-sized bottle.

Hair dye remover, Natsuo noted, which made no sense to him. Wasn’t he looking for hair dye?

The man inspected the item in his hand and put it inside his pocket.

Natsuo’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him. “Hey, what do you think you’re—”

Ignoring his question, the man stepped closer to Natsuo, and with amusement laced in his voice, spoke, “Make sure to watch the news, okay?”

Natsuo froze. Why did this person seem almost… familiar?

“See you around,” the man said and walked away, “Todoroki Natsuo.”

Alarm bells rang inside Natsuo’s head. This stranger called him by his full name. He had never introduced himself nor was he wearing anything that would give away his identity.

The second Natsuo was able to collect his thoughts and get over his initial panic, he ran after the man to question him, but he was nowhere to be found. The security alarms didn’t go off despite the man stealing something from the grocery store, his escape successful.

Natsuo reported the shoplifting incident to a staff member. Since the man’s physical appearance was too obscured, the authorities had very little clue to his identity. They recorded the theft but could do nothing much about it, ultimately deciding to watch out for similar incidents from now on. When they asked Natsuo if there was anything else he had to say, Natsuo contemplated it but chose not to inform the authorities of the fact that the man knew his identity and was, most likely, after him.

On his way back to the dormitory, Natsuo clutched the handle of the paper bag of hair products in his fist, wary of his surroundings. He couldn’t help it. Having been targeted and attacked by a villain in the past, he had to stay vigilant. Moreover, why did that person tell him to watch the news? The crime he committed was theft—a petty one at that—and would hardly be worth a headline.

Still, it worried Natsuo. He sent Fuyumi a message subtly informing her of his whereabouts in case something happens to him. Not wanting to cause her unnecessary panic, he decided to leave out the details of the encounter he had at the grocery store. He’d tell her later, but for now, he reminded her to take care of herself. Shoto was at U.A., at least, he would be fine there. Rei would be safe at the hospital while Endeavor could handle himself.

Natsuo boarded the train and sat down. He set his elbows on his knees and shut his eyes, the pads of the fingertips of his right hand gently touching their counterparts on his left as he leaned forward and bowed his head, lost in thought.

Who was that man?

The question plagued his mind for a long time but held no answer.

Notes: This was supposed to be a humorous fic… but here we are.

When I was writing this story, I thought a lot about that panel in Chapter 302 where Rei said she “started seeing hints of [Enji] in the children’s faces,” and while Shoto’s left side was shown, Natsuo’s entire face was beside him.

I hope you’re all enjoying Season 5 so far. Thank you for reading! ♡

BNHA Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 4 years ago

Note

Hi💛 I've suddenly found your blog and I'm in love with its adorableness. I hope you're okay with me sending a prompt. I just need more fluff with Todoroki siblings: Shoto being too lazy on the weekend at his siblings' house and refusing to get up, so they try to get him out the bed to start a new day (Natsuo never stops teasing him about his relationship with Izuku)

Gahhh thank you so much - that really warms my heart! Yessss, I love this prompt so much! :O I think after all the drama recently, these poor kids deserve a break! Hope you enjoy 💛

Shoto looked around him, taking in his surroundings. He was in class. Present Mic Sensei had his back to him, writing the lyrics to some corny English song on the blackboard, while Kaminari sung them out loud with surprising accuracy.

'We're no strangers to love~'

Shoto turned to look at Momo, ready to ask her just what the hell was happening, but instead of his friend, he found a giant teddy bear with long black hair in her place. Shoto’s eyes widened with shock when the bear turned to meet his gaze, nodding to him before focusing back on the lesson.

Okay then… He thought to himself and tried another tactic.

He suddenly stood up from his seat and wandered over to Izuku’s desk, because apparently that was allowed. Even if it did matter though, their teacher didn’t seem to notice, too busy engaging in a dance competition with Ashido, while Kaminari continued to sing. Somehow, Jirou had managed to procure a keyboard and was playing a familiar tune that Shoto couldn’t quite recognise.

Ignoring the odd display, he approached his boyfriend’s desk to find him muttering to himself. Shoto welcomed the small semblance of normalcy.

‘Izuku.’ He began. ‘What’s going on-?’

He stopped abruptly when Izuku turned to face him. Instead of rosy cheeks adorned in freckles and wide emerald eyes, Shoto came face-to-face with a full head of broccoli. He took a moment to fully comprehend what was going on.

Breathe, Shoto. It’s okay. Your boyfriend is a broccoli. It’s fine. It’s going to be alright.

Shoto bent down to inspect the vegetable love of his life. ‘Izuku! Izuku, are you okay? What happened? Was it a quirk? Can you breathe?’

A large hole suddenly opened from where Shoto assumed Izuku’s mouth was. He held his breath with anticipation.

‘According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly.’

Shoto blinked dumbly.

‘What the fuck-’

‘Wake uuuuuuup!’

Shoto shot up out of bed, breathing heavily as he adjusted to the light of his room. The curtains had been opened, allowing the morning sun to flood in. He winced at the brightness before he noticed Natsuo, stood next to the window with a knowing smirk plastered to his face. Shoto grumbled something unintelligible and collapsed back onto his futon, pulling at the covers to hide his face.

He heard an amused snort. ‘Wakey wakey, Shotouto!’

‘Fuck off.’ Shoto retorted, face buried in his pillow. ‘It’s Sunday.’

‘Now now, that’s no way to talk to your oniisan.’ Natsuo tutted playfully as footsteps approached. Shoto remained silent, hoping his brother would take the hint and piss off, but no such luck. ‘Neechan told me to wake you up nicely, but I see now that you have forced my hand.’

Before Shoto could ask what he even meant by that, suddenly a huge weight collapsed on top of him and Shoto let out a noise he didn’t know he was capable of making. He flailed around under the covers, trying and failing to kick his brother off of him but to no avail.

‘Natsuo, get the fuck off me!’ He got up on all fours, carrying Natsuo on his back, before he rolled onto his side and the two of them went flying.

‘Yaaaaaghhhhh!’

Shoto landed on the tatami floors, his bed sheets wrapped around him and Natsuo’s leg draped over his head. Scrunching up his face in distaste, he shoved the prickly leg away with his right hand and smirked sadistically when his brother yelped in response. If Natsuo’s leg now had a patch of frost coating it, then that was his secret.

‘Neechan!’ Shoto yelled out, voice feigning innocence. ‘Natsuo-nii is being mean to me!’

‘He’s lying!’ Natsuo quickly shot back, picking Shoto up and lifting him above his head before he could even react. Shoto blamed his slow reflexes on his tiredness.

‘Put me down, dickhead!’ He tried to punch at his brother’s arms but the angle made it extremely difficult. Cackling maniacally, Natsuo spun them around in circles. ‘Stoooop!!!’

‘Who’s this Izuku you were talking about in your sleep, Shotouto?’ He asked instead, causing Shoto to still; he stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes and felt his cheeks burn.

‘None of your business.’ He bit back, but that just proved to further fuel his brother’s curiosity.

‘I dunno, seemed pretty serious to me.’ Shoto could practically hear the grin in Natsuo’s voice, before he abruptly stopped spinning them around. His brother let out a delighted gasp that Shoto did not like in the slightest. ‘Wait a minute, Izuku… You were dreaming about that Midoriya-kun you brought around a few weeks ago?!’

Shoto said nothing, not trusting his voice.

Natsuo chortled. ‘Oh my god, you were! Oh, Neechan is going to love this-’

His brother’s words were cut off the moment Shoto grabbed onto his forearm, sending a wave of ice down Natsuo’s body until he was fully encased, with only his eyes and nose exposed. Shoto turned his head and looked down at his brother, fully enjoying the irritated noises he was making.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Natsuo-nii. Did you say something? I can’t quite hear you.’

His brother let out a muffled yell, scowling at him. However, it didn’t last long. Before the situation could escalate further, the door to Shoto’s room suddenly slid open and Fuyumi entered, hands on her hips and a look of resignation on her face.

‘Oh, Natsuo’s being mean to you, eh?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really seems like it.’

‘Neechan-’

‘Don’t want to hear it. De-ice your Niichan or no soba for you.’

‘Soba?’

One word, one simple word and Shoto leaped off of his brother and pressed his left hand to his icy chest, promptly melting him. When he was liberated, Natsuo shivered violently and shoved him back.

‘Someone’s sensitive this morning.’ He grumbled, shaking his damp hair in Shoto’s general direction. However, before he could get drenched, Shoto quickly jumped out of its trajectory and bolted for the kitchen, leaving Natsuo and Fuyumi to stare at each other, bewildered.

He ran down the hallway when he suddenly heard Fuyumi speak. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head.

‘Come on Natsuo, pay up.’

‘Fuyumiiiii!’

‘Come on, you sabotaged yourself there.’ His sister retorted. ‘Of course, he likes Midoriya-kun. I called it. Now give me my 4000 Yen!’

Heat pooled to Shoto’s face, turning him bright red. Unable to control it, his left side suddenly burst into flames, destroying his pajamas and singing the walls.

‘I am a poor university student, Neechan! This is robbery- Wait...’ Natsuo suddenly sniffed the air. ‘Do I smell smoke?’

Fuck.

❄🔥❄

Shoto sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He was curious about his dream from before. However, after initially searching “What happens if your boyfriend turns into a vegetable” and finding several dark humour posts that he didn’t quite understand, he quickly decided to stick to the simple questions.

He was just familiarising himself with the song Present Mic Sensei had been teaching them in his dream, while simultaneously learning an entire branch of internet culture in the process, when Natsuo bounced into the room and draped himself over Shoto on the sofa. His brother rested his chin on his shoulder and squished his cheek against Shoto’s own scarred one.

‘Watcha googling?’ He mumbled, trying to look at his phone screen.

In that moment, Shoto stilled. He allowed a small grin to grace his face as he turned to look at his brother knowingly. Natsuo stepped back hesitantly, removing himself from Shoto and off of the sofa, worried. Maintaining eye contact with his brother, Shoto turned his screen to reveal his search results.

The lyrics to Never Gonna Give You Up shone across Natsuo’s face and his grey eyes widened with shock. Shoto’s grin broadened when his brother gasped dramatically and clutched at his chest before promptly falling to the ground.

‘Noooooooo!’ He sobbed, curling in on himself. ‘How could you, Sho?!’

Shoto rose from where he was seated and stood over his brother, victorious.

‘That’s for placing a bet on my love life.’

‘What is going on here?!’ Fuyumi ran into the room, out of breath. ‘I leave you two for five minutes and- Wait, Natsuo, why are you on the floor?’

In that moment, both Shoto and Natsuo looked up at their sister with uncanny synchrony. However, while Shoto flashed Fuyumi a cool smile, his brother looked significantly more distressed.

‘I can no longer go on, Neechan!’ He sobbed. ‘I have been rickrolled by my baby brother! I have brought dishonour to my family!’ He raised a fist and shook it at the ceiling. ‘Damn you, old man! You were right all along!’

‘Shoto, what did you do to him?!’ Fuyumi exclaimed, rounding on Shoto. ‘He just called father right. What happened?’

‘He literally said it.’ Shoto shrugged, weaving around his sister to exit the room so he could brag about his recent accomplishments to Izuku over the phone. After a moment of consideration though, he peeked his head back into the room. ‘Also, Natsuo-nii, remember to pay up. Izuku is a really good kisser, after all.’

The cry of anguish his brother emitted, along with Fuyumi’s joyful cackling echoed down the hallway.

Shoto allowed himself a small smile.

#todoroki shoto #todoroki family #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #tododeku #sibling chaos #i just need them to be happy #hopefully this makes up for the angst of the previous prompt mwhaha #AgarJelly writes #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #memes #sorry not sorry ;)

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constant-mason24 · 4 years ago

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Safety in Arkham (Jerome Valeska x Reader)

(Y/N) sat at a table, reading a newspaper. It was two months old, and there was a mysterious substance on the advertising page, particularly around an ad for a strip club. As terrible as it was, If she tried hard enough, (Y/N) could almost pretend it was pleasant. Besides it was really the best way to spend her time here. It's not like she would be talking to anyone.

Or so she thought

(Y/N) heard the footsteps and the whistling coming closer, hoping that if she ignored it they would pass on by. She had to look up when one of the boys around her age hopped over a chair to sit across from her.

"Hi, gorgeous. I'm Jerome." The boy grinned wickedly, and she looked him over quickly. It was best to be left alone here, and keep to herself, but she didn't want to piss anyone off. Especially if they were on the more violent side of things.

(Y/N) was currently stuck in Arkham. A deadbeat, abusive, drunkard of a father had been the ailment of all her life, and (Y/N) had always been the sweet and quiet type (probably to save her skin, no different from now). She had finally snapped one day, bashing her drunkenly sleeping father's head in with the bat he had used to hit her hours earlier. She actually turned herself in, and was rather compliant with the police, until one of the detectives got a little too "bad cop" for her tastes and she lunged at him. Now she was stuck here in Arkham, deemed violent and crazy, even though all she wanted was to be safe. Fat chance.

"Hello." The girl spoke softly. So softly, Jerome almost didn't hear her. He tilted his head, grin widening a good inch. She was adorable.

"What is a little cutie like you doing in a big bad place like this?" Did this boy ever stop smiling? It was somehow creepy and charming at the same time.

"I killed my father and attacked a police officer." (Y/N) returned her gaze to the newspaper again, hoping he would move on. Instead he turned fully towards her, placing his hands on the tabletop.

"Ah, me too!" Jerome clutched a hand to his chest. "Well, mom, anyhow. How liberating, right? Oh, what a rush!" Jerome flung his hands out dramatically, and the girl jumped a bit at his sudden movement. He definitely noticed, taking a longer look over her. If that's all it took to scare her, there was no way this girl would survive in Arkham.

"You see the big handsome fella staring at you like you're fried chicken?" Jerome pointed across the room, and (Y/N)'s gaze followed, the paper falling forgotten out of her hands. How long had he been staring? Apparently minding her own business wasn't going to work. Jerome continued, "He's a millionaire. Got his own airplane, got a boat with a hot tub on it. And he killed 25 people. Just for fun."

"He did?" (Y/N) looked back over at the man. Richard, his name was. Was Jerome lying to her? 25 people is a lot of death to be responsible for. But the man staring at her definitely had no good intention. Exaggerated numbers or not, he was dangerous.

"Yeah. And he likes you." Jerome leaned forward, smiling a bit. He was kinda cute, wasn't he? That made him dangerous too. "He wants to be your friend!"

"I don't think that would end well for me." (Y/N) muttered, unable to tear her eyes from Richard. He wasn't even ashamed of being caught staring. The man had no reaction, and his terrifying gaze never lifted from her.

"Probably not." Jerome's smile dropped for just a second. "A girl does need a good friend in here, though. Someone she can trust. Ya see, the guards, they don't care. They figure bad things happen to bad people. And they happen all the time. All the time."

"Well what can I do about that?" (Y/N) finally turned back to Jerome. His smile came back just a little. "I sure as hell don't wanna befriend Richie Murder over there."

"You don't have to." His grin was back in full swing once again. God, it was almost intoxicating. "You can befriend me instead."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at this, causing Jerome to chuckle. "No offense, Jerome, but this is kind of suspicious. What do you want from me?"

"What I want from you?" Jerome brought his hands to his chest, eyebrows furrowing. "Why would I want anything? I'm just trying to help a poor, lonely girl."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Well, I can try to prove it to you," Jerome tilted his head, looking up and the ceiling and pouting. "But what could I possibly do to convince you?"

He grinned wickedly again. "I guess it's just a risk you'll have to take, doll."

(Y/N) frowned. Jerome had a point. Being completely alone here was likely a bad idea, but would Jerome himself be a safe bet? She looked over at Richard again, shivering under his tense gaze. Maybe Jerome would be the best bet.

"Okay. What would be terms of our…. 'Friendship?'"

"Aww, don't say it like that, Doll." Jerome pouted. "You make it sound like I don't really care."

"Do you?"

"I do." He leaned forward. "I'll tell ya what, how about we scrap the whole 'friendship' thing and do something better?"

"Like what?"

"What say you be my girl, and I keep ya safe and sound?" Jermone gave a cheesy grin, folding his hands together under his chin.

(Y/N) snorted, leaning back. "Was this all some ploy to ask me out?"

"Maybe."

"Is big boy in on it?" She gestured towards Richard.

"No." Jerome sat straight, looking over at the man as well. "He actually wants to get at you."

"I don't want that." (Y/N) looked to Jerome, seeming so soft and vulnerable. How the hell had she managed to kill her father?

"I won't let it happen." Jerome leaned forward, almost reaching her face. "Come here."

(Y/N) leaned forward, and Jerome hooked a finger under her chin. He moved her face towards his, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. (Y/N) froze, utterly surprised, and Jerome pulled away. She expected him to look at her in disappointment, but instead his gaze fell on the creep at the other table. The bigger man immediately stopped his staring, and Jerome smirked. Oh, so it was that simple, huh?

"See?" Jerome turned back to her, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. "I told ya I'd keep ya safe." He winked.

(Y/N) already felt a lot better.

#jerome x reader #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska #Gotham #gotham fic #gotham x reader

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Dying for a Taste of You: Chapter 5

Chapter Title: The Side Effects of You

Chapter Summary: Michael and Alex follow Caber out to the middle of nowhere and witness a horrific sight. Michael makes a decision regarding Alex that doesn't work out the way he hopes.

A/N: I've officially planned out the rest of this story! I've never planned anything before and it feels strangely liberating. The remaining chapters will be longer (like this one) so I can wrap up the plot of this story in a reasonable amount of time. There's a pretty graphic depiction of blood and body horror in here so be warned. And we have the return of highly possessive Michael. So enjoy!

Kinks Explored: Somnophilia, bondage, wax play

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

Alex and Michael followed Caber out but lost sight of him as he wove through the cars. Alex watched Michael’s eyes as he glared at every small movement that Alex wouldn’t be able to see. He rested a hand on his arm.

“Just stay calm. He wouldn’t stray far from Alayna right? Are we really going to assume she just left?” Michael rolled his shoulders in response.

“I can still smell the creep. Wait here,” he said. He quickly unhooked the chain from Alex’s neck and he vanished. He was only gone for a moment before he was back and shoving a sweatshirt and gun into his arms. Alex raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I’d come here without having a way to arm you, did you?” Alex didn’t know what he thought. He had been perfectly willing to let Michael handle the fighting if need be.

What’s wrong with me? I never completely put my life in someone else’s hands. It’s stupid.

Alex pulled the sweatshirt on and wrapped the strap of the holster around his waist. Michael looked him over once and grabbed his hand, pulling him in a direction away from the club. Alex knew this would be faster to let Michael go alone, but he didn’t seem to be willing to do that.

His prosthesis made it hard to run. Michael seemed to be conscious of it but the pace he was walking certainly wasn’t easy. Alex just clenched his jaw and kept pace. He wondered if turning into a vampire would heal his leg. He assumed not but the rumor was that becoming a vampire healed everything. He had learned to live with it and it wasn’t as though it bothered him, but what would it be like to actually experience sensation again?

Michael gripped his hand tightly and seemed to slow his pace. Alex just squeezed his hand back as they walked. Michael was scanning over everything, occasionally lifting his head like a dog would, smelling the air. Alex wanted to chuckle but he figured he could tease him about it when they weren’t hunting a killer vampire.

“Hey,” Alex said softly, tugging on his arm. Michael stopped walking.

“I don’t know if Caber is the vampire behind the murders. But even if he’s not, I have to kill him for breaking the rules of the club.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities, but isn’t he way stronger than you?”

“I’m a lot more pissed off. I know you can’t smell it, but he’s surrounded by blood.” Alex nodded slowly and Michael turned to keep walking.

They were walking into an open field next to the club. The neon lights still obscured the stars and served as a beacon to find their way back. Not that Michael would get lost. The rocky New Mexico ground made Alex stumble but he never fell with Michael holding onto him.

The walk was silent except for the dirt under their feet. The darkness grew as they moved further into the opening. His eyes were adjusting slowly but the moon was absent so natural light was minimal. Alex looked up at the stars, wondering just how he had gotten into this mess.

He could just barely see the dip of the water retention hole. No water would be there now but the spring and the melting snow usually filled it. Michael sped up his walking again, pulling Alex along behind him. He was at a light jog by the time they got to the edge.

A small hint of light coming from one of the sewers caught his attention. The biggest one. He glanced at Michael who was hyper focused and glaring at the light.

“Stay here and I’ll be back,” he ordered quietly. Alex shook his head.

“There’s no way I’m letting you go down there alone. You gave me a gun for a reason,” he whispered back.

“I can smell a lot of blood. Whatever’s down there… I don’t think you should see it.”

“This is my job remember? I need to find the identity of who’s killing girls to clear your name. And I have a strong feeling it’s Caber.” Michael clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair.

“Dammit, fine.” He released Alex’s hand and lifted his to his mouth, biting it. Alex didn’t flinch as Michael lifted his bleeding hand and wiped it from his chin down his neck. He repeated the same motion on the other side. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“What’s all that for?” he asked.

“It’ll cover your smell for a little while. Hopefully long enough to get some useful information.” Michael started walking down slope to the basin. Alex watched after him for a moment before following. He stumbled a bit but Michael was right in front of him, looking over his shoulder as they walked.

When they finally made it down, Michael, grabbed his face gently. Even in the dark, his sharp features stood out. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It felt too much like a goodbye. When Michael tried to pull away, Alex grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Alex wasted no time running his fingers over his shoulders and up his neck to rest on his face. He kissed him again. Filling it with a promise of later that he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep.

Michael held him close for another few moments, sighing against his lips and hands slipping just under the sweatshirt so his fingers brushed over Alex’s skin.

“Stay behind me,” Michael mumbled. Alex nodded and they pulled apart. They walked as quietly as they could to the sewer opening, finding the grate cover set to the side of the hole. Michael had to duck slightly but it was wide enough for them to walk side by side. Alex followed him in, opting to stay only one step behind him as opposed to a few.

The light at the end of the tunnel pulsed and flickered every few seconds. Why would they light a fire in a place with almost no ventilation? Alex started to see the imperfections in the wall as they got closer. The tension in Michael’s shoulders refused to relax. Alex couldn’t smell what he did, but it must be torture.

They rounded the curve of the sewer, Michael trying to peak ahead before they accidentally walked out and gave themselves away. Alex grabbed his hand again, trying to make sure that he didn’t stumble too far forward. Michael squeezed his hand in a silent acknowledgment.

Suddenly he stopped and pressed himself against the wall as tightly as he could. He lifted a finger to his lips and inched his way along the stone. Alex tried to peak around his body but Michael kept him pressed back. Alex dropped his hand and reached for his gun. He finally picked up on the quiet talking.

“I promise baby girl, I’ll stop whenever you want. This is just a scene I’ve wanted to try,” he heard Caber say. His voice was weirdly gentle and reassuring.

“I don’t know if I like being tied up like this. I mean… what if you can’t stop?” A small voice squeaked out. They finally inched far enough that Alex could look around Michael.

Torches burned along the walls and in the center of the room. He watched a shirtless Caber walk around a stone slab. It was almost straight but rested at an angle with a girl who was still fully clothed chained to it. Alex chanced a look at Michael who looked sick to his stomach.

“You don’t trust me? I’m hurt. I promise you’ll enjoy this.” He stopped in front of the girl and leaned in, biting her shoulder. Her limbs pulled against the cuffs as she sighed in pleasure. Alex looked away. He started to feel hope. That maybe this girl wasn’t in danger, just at the mercy of some weird fantasy.

The tearing of fabric made him jump as his head jerked up to watch in horror as a knife ripped through her dress. She screamed and tried to cover herself but with her hands and legs restrained, she was helpless. Alex gripped the gun in his hand, ready to jump in and stop this.

“Stop! I don’t want this!”

“So you lied to me? That’s not very nice.” Alex could hear the sick joy he was getting from this. The girl’s eyes widened as he pressed the tip of the knife into her throat. She choked out a sob and desperately pulled at the cuffs.

Alex took less than a step towards them.

He thought he would go deaf from her scream.

Michael grabbed his arm.

“Your blood is for a good cause. Promise.”

Blood poured from the line running down her torso.

A hand clamped down over Alex’s mouth and pulled him back from the scene. His fingers trembled around the gun and his feet weren’t on the floor. Water spilled from his eyes and his stomach turned. The image burned into his mind replayed on every surface he looked at.

Michael held him so tightly he thought he might snap in half. But he also might fall apart otherwise. He mumbled soft hushing sounds into his ear. Telling him to wait for a bit longer. Michael pulled the gun from his hand and slipped it back into the holster on his hip.

Alex had seen the bodies after they had been drained. But they were never like what he just saw. He hadn’t considered what the other victims looked like while it was happening. Now he had a perfect visual. One that he couldn’t force away.

He could hear Michael mumbling words in his ear but couldn’t make any of them out. The light at the end of the tunnel was growing faint but even the dark couldn’t stop the replay of the knife cutting the girl open.

The night air brushed over his face, forcing him to finally blink. Tears still ran over his cheeks and the nausea hadn’t subsided. He struggled in Michael’s arms as his stomach flipped. He released him and Alex fell to his knees hurling. Sobs made his shoulders tremble and broke up the sounds of his emptying stomach.

Michael rubbed his back slowly, pulling him into his arms when he couldn’t puke anymore. They sat together as Alex cried, his eyes screwed shut, willing the image away.

“I know, I know. He won’t get away with this ok?” Michael reassured. But Alex couldn’t take it. The tears didn’t stop as he wrenched himself away from Michael, rage filling his body. “Alex—”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Alex growled out. He grabbed the gun and ran- as much as he could on shaking legs- back toward the entrance to the sewer. He didn’t get far before Michael was grabbing him again, arms wrapped around his waist as though he were a small child.

“You will die if you go back in there right now!”

“I don’t care! I’ll take that bastard with me!”

“Alex, listen to me! I will help you, ok? I will help you get rid of him but please, stop!”

“I can’t let him walk for another second!” Michael’s fingers dug into his waist as he was pulled back. Alex struggled but Michael held him fast. He was spun around to look at Michael’s face.

The background faded away and he couldn’t break eye contact. Michael’s eyes glowed bright red in the dark. His mark throbbed and he dropped the gun to the ground. His body relaxed and he struggled to remember what they were arguing about. Michael spoke slowly, but his mouth never moved.

Calm down. I’m here. Stop fighting.

And it was the best idea ever. Alex leaned in slowly and Michael pulled him to his chest. Soft kisses were dropped over his cheek and down his neck. He let his head roll to the side and eyes flutter shut.

Sleep. My love.

Light filtered in from the edges of the shade when Alex cracked open his eyes. He closed them again when he determined it was too bright. Feeling slowly returned to his body. The soft sheets were wrapped around him. Softer than normal cotton. They rested against skin all the way down his body. He was sore from the previous day but pleasantly so. He reached out and ran his fingers over the fabric before they brushed against another body. He turned over slowly and pulled his eyes open again.

Michael’s face was soft and his curls looked like a halo on the pillow where the light fell. Alex followed the lines of his face down his neck to his shoulders. He followed the hard lines until they disappeared under the covers at his waist.

Alex didn’t remember much after they followed Caber out of the club. It’s like there was a blank where memories should have been. Alex sighed and figured he would just ask Michael when he woke up.

He wanted the answers now but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the peace that was the two of them in bed together. Alex reached out again, running his fingers over Michael’s cheek and over his neck. He snored softly and shifted under Alex’s touch but didn’t wake.

He scooted himself closer as his hand ran over his shoulder and down his side. He slipped his fingers under the sheet and pushed it away slowly. Alex kept his eyes on Michael’s face, making sure he didn’t wake up. He rolled him to his back carefully, leaning down and kissing his chest.

Michael was beautiful and Alex had known that since the first time they met. But now he had time to really take him in. He might have blushed if he had been awake but this was his time. His time to be selfish.

Alex kissed his chest, flicking his tongue over his nipples and watching them harden from the attention. Michael sighed in his sleep as he slowly worked his way down his torso. The lower he moved, the more Michael’s cock hardened.

“’lex…” Michael mumbled. Alex held in his laugh from the joy of knowing he could have this effect on him, even in his sleep. He let his fingers dance over his skin, barely brushing the surface. The hair on his chest tickled his fingers and face.

He moved lower, nipping gently at the skin on his hips. Michael’s breathing was picking up, and soft moans occasionally escaped. Alex wondered what he was dreaming about. He ran his hands down his arms and tickled the palms of his hands. Tracing his mouth along the V of his hips, Alex positioned himself between Michael’s legs.

Alex started slowly, taking the head of his half hard cock in his mouth. A small whimper made him grin. He scratched his sides gently, moving down to his hips and then legs. Michael’s mouth opened slightly as he sighed. Alex swirled his tongue around the head, tasting the pre cum that had started leaking.

He pushed Michael’s thighs apart slowly, running a finger along the crease of his ass. He sucked his cock in as deep as his gag reflex would allow. Michael whispered a broken sound that might have been his name. Alex teased his fingers around his hole as he wrapped his tongue around his cock as much as he could.

Alex kept watch on his face as he moved his head up and down at a steady pace. His free hand massaged his own growing erection as it throbbed and begged to be stimulated by something else.

If I wake him up, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to solve this problem.

Alex pushed the tip of his finger into Michael’s ass. He’d wanted to do this yesterday but he’d been spent. As fun as it had been to include Forrest, he needed to own Michael. Make sure he was the only one Michael wanted.

He released his cock from his mouth and ran his tongue down his shaft before sucking one of his balls into his mouth briefly. Michael’s eyebrows drew together along with a soft moan. Alex moved on quickly, pushing his tongue against his entrance alongside his finger. He only lingered a few seconds before pulling away. He glanced around the room and noticed a brand new bottle of lube on the dresser. He ran his eyes over Michael again and decided against pulling himself up and putting on his prosthesis just for that. He pulled his fingers out and spit on them before pushing them back in.

Alex kissed Michael’s thighs as his fingers moved in him slowly. He watched Michael’s cock jump every time he pushed in. He went back and forth between his legs, working his way back to his hips and the head of his now fully hard cock. Alex let his eyes flutter closed as he took Michael in his mouth again.

“Well this is certainly my favorite way to wake up,” a groggy voice mumbled. Fingers ran through Alex’s hair as he opened his eyes to find Michael smiling at him. He hummed around him and Michael sighed happily, gripping the strands of hair. “Fuck,” he breathed out.

Alex curved the two fingers buried in his ass, pressing against his prostate. Michael’s cock throbbed in his mouth as small moans slipped out. Michael let him take his time. Never thrusted though he could feel the way his legs were shaking.

“God Alex, I won’t last if you keep this up,” Michael joked, breathless. Alex released his cock from his lips and grinned up at him.

“Fine. Do me a favor and get the lube you so kindly picked up.” Michael smiled back as Alex pulled his fingers out. Michael moved quickly and was back on the bed kneeling next to Alex in no time at all.

Alex pushed himself up on his knees to meet him halfway. Michael cradled his face in his hands as their lips met softly. Alex reached of his hips, running his hands over them to the muscles in his lower back. He splayed them over as much skin as he could, feeling the muscles flex.

Michael licked at his lip before tugging on it gently, making Alex sigh. He ran his hands down to squeeze his ass before pushing a finger back in. Michael yanked their bodies flush against each other, save for the space where he was gripping both of their cocks and stroking at the same pace as Alex’s finger.

“I had never seen anything so beautiful. You sleeping next to me,” Alex said during a pause in their kisses. “Every part of you free for me to take. I couldn’t help myself.” Michael chuckled and Alex could have sworn his cheeks were dusted pink.

“You keep reminding me how much I don’t deserve you. But I refuse to let you go.” Michael nipped at his lip again, slightly elongated fangs catching the skin. Alex pulled his finger out of his ass and gripped his hips instead.

“The feeling is mutual,” Alex said. Then he pushed Michael onto his back again. He dragged his hands more roughly over his torso than he had earlier. Michael rolled into his touch and reached up to run his own hands down Alex’s arms. Alex didn’t allow it for long, grabbing his wrists and pinning them together above his head.

Michael’s fanged smile turned Alex on more than ever. Everything about Michael was perfect. He leaned down to press hungry kisses against his mouth that Michael gladly returned. Alex rubbed their cocks together, shuddering at the stickiness that leaked from both tips.

He grabbed the lube and pushed the cap open. He released Michael’s wrists but he never moved them as Alex coated himself. Michael’s eyes burned holes in his skin as they roamed his body. Alex closed the lube and tossed it aside. He grabbed Michael’s wrists again and let his now lube coated fingers slip inside him.

Michael moaned and rolled his hips. His noises cut short by Alex kissing him again. He moved his fingers quickly, spreading and twisting them to relax the muscles. But Alex was already impatient, and apparently so was Michael.

“Fuck Alex, I need you inside me,” he pleaded between kisses.

Alex pulled his fingers out roughly, making Michael yelp and grabbed his cock, pushing the head into his ass. Both of their mouths fell open at the tight squeeze. Alex rocked his hips slowly but his legs were shaking with need.

Michael wrapped his own legs around Alex’s hips and pulled him in. He thrusted forward, burying himself deep inside. Alex’s head fell to rest on Michael’s shoulder as they both moaned and panted.

Alex thrusted roughly again and again. His eyes closed, lost in the bliss of Michael clenching around him. He pressed his mouth to his shoulder and kissed once, twice, then bit. Michael met his next thrust, making them both gasp.

“Alex, please. I need to touch you,” Michael begged. Alex met his gaze before releasing him. Almost instantly his arms were around his neck, hands tangled in his hair, pulling their mouths together. Alex kept his rhythm steady but he was close and it wouldn’t stay that way much longer.

“You’re mine, Michael,” Alex said when they parted. “I don’t want you going to anyone else for anything, understand?” He watched as Michael’s eyes turned red and teeth extended. He tried to turn his face away but Alex grabbed his throat, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I refuse to let you go.”

Alex held Michael down by his throat. Knowing full well that if he wanted to, he could escape. He sat up and bent one of Michael’s legs back so he could hit deeper. They moaned together at the new angle. Michael grabbed himself and started stroking as Alex snapped his hips forward.

His mind was getting fuzzy. All he could focus on was chasing the edge that he wanted to fall over. He squeezed his hand around Michael’s throat tighter and watched as his back arched and his fist twisted into the sheets.

“Cum for me Michael,” Alex ordered. Michael moaned and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from his throat. Alex smirked down at him as he pressed his lips to the pulse point in his arm. “Go on baby. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Alex’s hips stuttered in their rhythm when he bit down. It hurt. So much more than usual. Alex hissed but kept his thrusts going. He cursed as he felt the pressure in his groin. Michael was staring up at him, eyes as red as the blood that escaped from the side of his mouth. He wanted to beg Michael to kill him. To turn him.

Michael released his wrist and pushed himself up with his free hand. Alex leaned in to rest his forehead against his. They panted together, chasing the relief that they both needed.

“Michael, I’m…” He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before he was filling Michael’s ass with his cum. Choking out a low moan and grabbing his legs, bending them back so he could pound into him. Michael’s ass gripped around him, sending waves of overstimulation to the rest of his body. His cock throbbed as it emptied itself.

“’lex…” Michael moaned out. A few more rough thrusts pushed him over the edge.

Michael’s back arched as his hand pumped his cock. He came over his abs and fist, moaning brokenly as Alex’s thrusts slowed. Alex pushed himself fully inside Michael before letting himself fall forward onto his chest. Michael squirmed beneath him, rubbing his cock against Alex’s stomach and grinding his ass against his hips where they were connected.

“Stop moving,” Alex mumbled, nuzzling his face into his chest.

“Can’t. You feel too good,” he replied though he did attempt to still his hips.

Alex lifted his head and rested his chin on Michael’s chest. He watched him curiously. The blood on his lips started to dry and he seemed to be biting his bottom lip to keep himself still. Alex leaned up and kissed him, pulling his lip from between his teeth. Fresh blood slipped over Alex’s tongue and he sighed happily.

“If you need more—” Alex started. Michael cut him off by flipping them over. The mess on his stomach was now covering Alex’s too. He grabbed his cock loosely and rubbed slowly, grinding his ass down.

Alex whimpered quietly but didn’t stop him. He ran his hands over his legs and hips, moving Michael back and forth. His cock throbbed from the continued stimulation but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

It wasn’t long before Michael was gasping and moaning above him, jerking himself off with shaking legs. Alex dug his fingers into his hips and thrusted his own up quickly. Their hips met a few times before Michael shuttered and came again with a low groan. There wasn’t nearly as much as the first time but his cum still made a mess between them.

Michael pulled himself off Alex carefully before rolling onto his back next to him. Alex turned his head to watch him run a hand through his hair and smile. The sun caught his hair again and Alex chuckled. Michael glanced in his direction with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re still the most stunning person I’ve ever seen.” Michael just rolled his eyes but Alex saw the small grin that snuck out.

“I’ve got nothing on you, hunter.” Alex blushed and Michael rolled onto his side, running a hand over his arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone as perfect as you. Even though you’re reckless and let me drink when you know you shouldn’t.”

“I just want you to be happy. And I want to be the one to make you happy.” Alex took the hand that was running over his arm and pulled it to his mouth, kissing his fingers.

They laid there for a couple hours, talking about nothing in particular. Michael teased Alex about their activities the previous night and Alex was reminded of the missing time in his memories.

“Hey, I can’t remember anything after we left the club. What happened?” Any part of Michael that had been relaxed tensed under Alex’s fingers. He sat up and pretty much jumped out of bed.

“I believe I promised you a warm bath. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Michael was gone from the room before he finished speaking. Alex’s eyebrows drew together. What was he hiding? He had six days to solve the murders of the girls and he didn’t have time to worry if Michael was being honest.

He was almost certain it was Caber but couldn’t figure out why his gut insisted that. He needed proof if he was going to get Michael off the hook. Michael wandered back into the room a few minutes later with a cocky smile on his face. Alex didn’t have time to react before he was being scooped up into Michael’s arms and carried to the bathroom.

Michael’s tub was huge and had jets. He hadn’t used them last time he was here. But here he was, being set down into comfortably warm water with Michael sliding in behind him. His arms wrapped around his waist, pulling Alex against his chest. He kissed his shoulders and mark making Alex sigh.

This was obviously a distraction. Alex’s brain told him to just go with it. Michael would be happier if he did. Michael pressed a button on the side of the tub and the jets started shooting slightly warmer water. Alex tried to make sure he didn’t get lost in the therapeutic massage against his knee, just above where his missing leg was.

“Michael,” he mumbled out, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment. It would be so easy to just let it go…

“I’ll take care of you alright?” Michael said next to his ear. Alex slipped into the comfort of his arms. But only for a second.

He reached for the memories of last night again, only to come up blank. Something significant was cut from his recollection of the previous night.

“Michael. As much as I want to let you get away with the distraction, what happened after we followed Caber yesterday?” Alex leaned forward to put some distance between them. He looked over his shoulder at Michael.

His face was wrought with worry and nerves. He refused to look Alex in the eye as he grabbed the soap and lather his hands before rubbing the tension out of Alex’s shoulders. Michael washed slowly, digging his thumbs into the muscles. Alex sighed and looked away, allowing him time to think.

“You were horrified by what we found. So I took your memories,” he said quietly. For a minute, the only sounds were the water as it shifted with Michael’s movements.

Anger bubbled under Alex’s skin. Michael had told him he doesn’t use his powers like that. And now he’s gone and taken an entire evening of time from him. He wanted to jump up and run away but he was confined to the bath. He cursed his missing leg. Instead he gripped the sides of the tub until his knuckles turned white.

“Please understand Alex. I’ll tell you what you need to know but I wasn’t going to let you suffer with seeing visions.”

“You had no right to make that decision for me.”

“You were in a rage, Alex. I had to stop you. You didn’t handle what we found out well.” Alex paused but stood his ground. Even though it killed him to go against Michael.

“You’re going to give me every memory that you took back,” Alex said lowly. He glared at the white wall.

“Alex—”

“No! You are going to do as I say Michael Guerin. Or I swear to god I will leave.”

Alex’s throat burned with the words. He knew it was an empty threat but he didn’t know how to make Michael understand the betrayal he felt. Michael had gone silent behind him, fingers frozen in place on his skin. Alex turned to look over his shoulder at him.

He met Michael’s red eyes. Fury rolled off of him as his fingers started to dig into Alex’s skin. He flinched at the sharp pain.

“Michael. Let go of me.” He finally blinked and looked down to where his fingers were. He released Alex but it didn’t last long. Alex was yanked back by his waist and Michael was burying his teeth in his mark.

Alex yelped at the sudden intrusion and tried to squirm away from Michael. Tears pricked at his eyes as Michael sucked at the skin. He wasn’t drinking. The way his jaw clenched and bit made the message clear. This was intended to hurt. Alex pushed as much as he could but Michael refused to release him. Then words began to float into his mind.

You are mine. You will not leave.

His brain demanded that he believe those words. That they were the only right solution. Michael detached from his throat and Alex scrambled to the other side of the tub. The fear creeped into his mind and he grabbed at his neck, as though to stop the bleeding even though there was none. Michael’s eyes glowed bright red.

“What is wrong with you?” Alex snapped.

At his voice, Michael seemed to slump back. His eyes blinked rapidly as the red faded. He looked around the bathroom as though he didn’t know where he was. His gaze finally landed on Alex, who shook even though the water was warm.

“I— Alex I—” He shot up and climbed out of the tub, grabbing the towel and slamming the door closed behind him. Alex jumped at the sound.

Alex finished washing himself before climbing out of the tub and siting on the edge. Had he gone too far? Did threatening to leave send Michael into a frenzy?

He looked around and while there were new handrails on the wall, he wouldn’t be able to maneuver himself back to the room without crawling. He stared at the closed door for a few minutes before deciding to ask for help.

“Michael,” he called. He wasn’t sure if Michael was still here but he hoped. He let his anger get the best of him. While he didn’t think he was in the wrong, he could have gone about it differently. The door squeaked open slowly. Not fulling opening. Alex took a breath, thankful he hadn’t left.

“I need help getting back to the room,” he said quietly.

“I’ll bring your prosthesis to you,” Michael mumbled out before starting to close the door.

“No. I want you to help me.” Alex knew what Michael was feeling. He needed to make sure he understood that Alex still trusted him. Michael hesitated before pushing the door open. He had put on a pair of sweats with a loose t-shirt and he wouldn’t look at Alex. Just offered his hand. He shoved back the embarrassment of his next demand. “No. Carry me.”

“It would be better if I just got your prosthesis. You don’t need to pretend like you want me to help.” Alex’s nose twitched in annoyance.

“Carry me,” he repeated more firmly. Michael finally met his eyes and he could see they were red from crying. His heart broke. “Please,” he begged quietly.

Michael moved slowly but lifted him into his arms. Alex wrapped his arms around his neck, resting his head on his shoulder. Michael held him securely. There was no danger of being dropped. He wouldn’t hurt him.

He was placed on the bed gently and Michael stepped away before he could stop him. He walked across the room to pick up his prosthesis and bring it to him. He set it on the ground next to Alex.

Alex grabbed his wrist before he could move again. He tried to get Michael to look at him but he simply refused. He tugged on his arm to bring him closer. Michael hated himself and Alex could tell.

“Can you bring me some clothes?” he asked quietly. Michael nodded and moved to the dresser, pulling out more sweats and another shirt. He handed them to Alex before beelining for the door. “Wait!” He froze just as he stepped into the hall.

“I want to talk. About yesterday. About what just happened. About us.” Alex pulled the sweats on, then the shirt. Michael stayed in the hall while he got dressed. Only turning once he was done. He moved back into the room, leaning against the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Alex sighed.

“I’m sorry I said I would leave. I didn’t mean it.” Michael’s eyes flicked up to him for a second.

“I… You shouldn’t apologize. You have every right to want to leave. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“It hurt Michael. The way you bit me.” His eyes screwed shut and he gripped his arms.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I just wanted to find a way to keep you here. Keep you with me.” Alex knew this. Knew that he had tried to compel him to stay. But he fought it back. He was here because he wanted to be.

“You tried to compel me. It didn’t work.” Michael looked up at him, confusion written all over his face.

“It did. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Alex shook his head.

“No, Michael. I resisted the compulsion.”

“That’s not possible.”

“You’re the one who told me I had to learn how to fight off the influence of the mark. So I did. Compulsion is no different.” Michael stared at him. Dumbfounded. A small smile broke on his face before it vanished again.

“You never fail to amaze me,” he said quietly before looking away again. Alex sighed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you compelled my memories away yesterday. When I probably wasn’t prepared. You still had no right. I need all the information to make an accurate judgement,” Alex explained. Michael ran a hand through his hair and bounced one of his legs.

“I just wanted to protect you. I was scared you were going to get yourself killed.”

“I get that but I want them back, Michael. Then we can figure out what to do.” He looked at him and took a few steps toward the bed.

“We?” Alex’s shoulders relaxed for the first time since the bath. He gave Michael a small smile.

“Yes. We.”

Michael kneeled down in front of Alex and took one of his hands gently. Alex squeezed back in response. He lifted his free hand to rest on Michael’s face as he leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“I forgive you for taking my memories as long as you return them. And I forgive you for what happened earlier. I trust you Michael. That hasn’t changed.” Michael lifted his head and chased Alex’s lips, pressing soft kisses to them.

Alex allowed this for a long while. He could feel Michael’s hesitation and fear in the way his hands trembled. The pleading in his kisses that begged Alex to reconsider. Their lips slipped over each other easily, soft sighs breaking the silence.

When Michael finally pulled back, he took a deep breath and ran his hands up Alex’s arms. Placing his hands on his face and pressing their foreheads together made Alex feel safe. Michael spoke softly.

“The part of your memories I took was when Caber sacrificed a girl. You froze and I had to drag you out. Once you regained your senses you were determined to kill him. I used compulsion to calm you down then seal your memories.”

Alex nodded, placing his hands over Michael’s. He swallowed, suddenly nervous about what he would see. What if Michael was right and he couldn’t handle it? Sacrifice was far off from any of the hypotheses the police force had. He would need to convince them of a new motive and that Michael wasn’t part of it.

“Alex, I’m going to need you to look at me,” Michael said softly. Alex opened his eyes to get lost in the golden brown of Michael’s. He watched as they slowly shifted to a glowing red. Mesmerized, Alex leaned forward, lips brushing against Michael again.

Remember everything that happened before I compelled you.

Like he was speaking into his mind, Alex felt like the answers to the universe had been laid out before him. A realization that he had been reaching for but could never quite understand.

Images began flashing through his mind. Some were fuzzy as the nature of memories go but there was no mistaking the blood drenching every part of the vision in front of him. A girl chained to a stone slab, a knife, a cut down her body. He distantly felt Michael’s hands on him, holding him upright.

Michael’s hand covering his mouth to stop the scream was when things blurred. He couldn’t make out any of the walls. The sacrifice replayed over in his mind until the outside came into view. He remembered the disgust and anger. He felt himself throw up in the memory and he wanted to gag all over again.

Then he was raging, grabbing for a gun and Michael was yelling. They both were. Alex needed to calm down and Michael overpowered him. Then they were pressed together and Michael’s eyes were red.

Alex slumped forward into Michael’s arms, trying to control the urge to start puking again. He tried closing his eyes but the image of the knife running down the girl’s torso wouldn’t let up. It felt like it wasn’t as vivid as the previous night, as though he was already starting to forget.

Michael pressed kisses to his head and held him close. He had moved to sit next to him on the bed. He made soft hushing noises and Alex was grateful. He felt the anger rising again. At himself. At Michael. But mostly at Caber.

“Why did you stop me?” he asked once the nausea ebbed.

“Like I said yesterday. He would have been too strong. You would have died.”

Alex didn’t respond, not wanting to get into the same argument. He had always been prepared to die to protect people. He lost his leg protecting someone from a vampire and he would happily lose more limbs to rid the world of vampires like Caber.

“I know what you’re thinking. But my first instinct will always be to protect you.” Alex laughed humorlessly.

“That’s technically my instinct too. But you told me I should suppress it,” he pointed out.

“It’s different for me.” Alex snorted.

“How so?” Michael blushed and looked away from him.

“Because I brought you into this life. It’s my job to keep you safe. Besides, if I wasn’t there then you probably would have died that night we met.” Alex fell silent. Would Isobel have killed him? Everything that Michael said seemed to imply that she wouldn’t do something like that.

After a few moments of silence, Alex pulled away from Michael and grabbed his prosthesis. He rolled the sweats to above his knee and began the process of putting it on. He was acutely aware of Michael’s eyes on him but he tried to ignore it.

Once he was done he stood slowly, walking back and forth around the room to make sure he had put it on correctly. Then he rolled the sweats back down to cover it. He met Michael’s eyes and smiled.

“Let me make you some food,” Michael said, standing and offering Alex his hand. He took it and they moved downstairs together.

Michael made him pancakes and sausage and Alex would never not be surprised that he could cook so well. They tread carefully around their topics of conversation, wanting to wait until there wasn’t food in danger of going to waste.

Alex insisted on rinsing the dishes because Michael had cooked. But Michael was still intent on making up for attacking him. At least that’s what he assumed. He had grabbed everything before Alex even had time to stand. He had rolled his eyes and just decided to watch him.

His thoughts drifted to their activities in bed and he smiled. He would make sure to wake him up like that more often. His cock twitched and he shifted in his seat.

“Alex. I’m trying to give you a break after yesterday but I’m only a man.” Michael didn’t even look away from the plate he was scrubbing down. Alex felt the heat in his cheeks and tried to think of anything to stop the arousal.

Once the dishes had been placed in the washer, they both moved to the couch. In an effort to keep things serious, Alex sat across from Michael. As opposed to straddling his hips like he wanted to.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me for stopping you yesterday,” Michael started. “But just because we saw him do it doesn’t mean you have evidence right?” Alex nodded.

“It’s unlikely they’ll take my word on anything. Especially considering it’s not a theory they had come up with yet.” He took a breath. “You were right to stop me yesterday. I still disagree with your methods.” Michael looked away from him. “What sacrifice was he performing?” Alex asked. Michael ran a hand over his jaw and shrugged.

“There’s a handful of old rituals that call for sacrifices but they haven’t been used for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. They’re generally regarded to not work.”

“Well what are they?” Michael glanced at him before pushing himself up from the couch. Alex raised an eyebrow as he walked to a bookcase he had never inspected too closely. He ran his finger over the spines of a few books before grabbing one with a green cover. Michael flipped through the pages before handing it to Alex.

“This is just a record of the rituals that have been performed. Most didn’t work.” Alex skimmed through the script that he could barely read. The page seemed to talk about reducing the sensitivity to light.

“But some did?”

“Yes. The one’s that worked,” Michael pulled the book from his hand and flipped to the back, “are here.” He handed it back and there were a total of maybe fifteen rituals. Some of them even seem to be repeated.

Healing Sun Sensitivity Fertility Sun Sensitivity Human Immortality Sun Sensitivity

Alex read over them again and again. None of them sounded like something Caber would be interested in. He ran his finger over the word ‘immortality.’

“There’s a way to turn a human immortal?” Michael swallowed and shook his head, as though he was trying to get rid of bad memory.

“This is just a list of rituals that worked. That doesn’t mean it went well. It requires a horrific amount of sacrifices and the human killed themselves after finding out.” Alex couldn’t even imagine how many people were required.

“What about this sun thing? It’s done the most.”

“It’s repeated every few hundred years. How do you think I can go outside without burning to ash. It’s a… less intense… ritual. Only requires a few people.” Alex’s eyes snapped up to Michael, appalled at the way he talked like their lives didn’t matter. “Alex. I can promise you that we only use the worst of the worst for it. That one’s not picky with who’s blood is used.”

Alex swallowed. He believed Michael that they picked horrible people for the sacrifice. But his stomach still turned at the thought. Some of the rituals had requirements. Was it something stereotypical like women virgins? Or were there other specifications. He shook his head and flipped through the pages more.

“None of those sound like something Caber would want.” Michael took the book from his hand again. “Hey—” Michael pressed his mouth to Alex’s to silence any protest. It didn’t linger long but it was enough to leave him wanting.

“I will help you with this. Isobel and Max both have books with more information. We have a week right?” Alex nodded. It didn’t sound like much time to him but Michael seemed confident.

“I just want to keep you safe,” Alex mumbled. Michael smiled and cradled his face in his hands.

“I know.”

Michael was right when he said that Isobel and Max had more resources. They both brought by more dusty old books than he had ever seen outside of an actual library. Isobel had even hung around most days to help them. Alex was not spared the lecture that he was sure Michael had heard already.

“Look. I don’t know what Michael told you but these kinds of relationships almost never end well. Someone will end up hurt or dead. I love Michael and I don’t want him getting killed because you decide you hate vampires after all.” Alex chose his own words carefully.

“I care about Michael. I’m trying to clear his name so people stop coming after him,” he insisted. She glared at him, as though trying to determine if he was telling her the truth.

“You’re smart, Manes. I don’t have to tell you that I could kill you if you so much as breathe the wrong way.” Alex hoped the fear that made a chill run down his spine didn’t show on his face. She sighed and pulled out her phone. She tapped a few times before she turned the phone to show him a picture.

He looked at a photo of Caber with a new girl. Happy and seemingly all heart eyes for her. The nausea returned. Isobel scrolled and showed another girl. Then another.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him since that night Michael said you saw the sacrifice. I’ll send these to you. It’s not definitive proof but it should be enough to get the police to look into it right?” Alex was dumbfounded. She had done that for them? Maybe it was more accurate to say she had done it for Michael. She cleared her throat and he realized he hadn’t answered her.

“Uh, yea. It should be enough. Thank you,” he said. “These girls haven’t been reported missing or dead yet. If they had, the police would already be on the porch. I’ll run over there now.”

Before he had time to stand, the front door opened and Michael rushed in and slammed it behind him. Alex would have asked a question but there was a pounding on the door.

“Your friend is on me again. Claiming that I broke the deal.” Alex’s eyes widened and he rushed to the door. One of the girls had turned up. He looked back at Isobel. She wasn’t part of this but if she was seen with Michael, she might be pulled into it.

“Stay out of sight,” he ordered her.

Alex pulled the door open just enough to squeeze out. He didn’t think before shoving Kyle back and glaring.

“What are you doing here? I have two more days.”

“That was only if no one else turned up dead. But your little pet or whatever killed another girl.” Alex shook his head and felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

“No. He’s been with me the whole time!”

“Oh really? He wasn’t with you just now when I found him.” Kyle spoke like he won and Alex fumed. The accusation was meant to trip him up. He had used it on suspects before.

“Listen to me Kyle. He didn’t do this. But I know who did. If you’d let me come with you to the station then I could show the chief too.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and saw three attachments from an unregistered number that he assumed was Isobel. He clicked on the message to the three pictures she had sent and handed his phone to Kyle. “Look. This is the guy you should be focused on. His name is Caber.”

Kyle clicked through the photos. Alex saw him swallow and clench his fist around his phone. He shoved the device back against Alex’s chest.

“Send these to me and I can look into it. The chief will be back in two days and you better have something we can act on.” He stormed back to his car and Alex watched him until he disappeared around the corner. Only then did he let his shoulders relax.

He opened the door again to Michael and Isobel sitting on the couch. They talked in hushed voices, Isobel glaring at Michael. They stopped talking when the door clicked shut again. Michael stood again and moved to wrap his arm around Alex’s shoulders.

“Look, Alex is doing everything he can. If you insist on helping why don’t you seduce that cop?” Alex raised an eyebrow as he looked between the siblings.

“He is hot,” she said in a curious voice.

“Do me a favor and don’t kill him,” Alex replied half as a joke. He would be lying if he said that it wasn’t something he was concerned about.

“Oh honey, no. Just want to take him for a ride. You can bet that he won’t hate vampires after that,” she said, smirking. Alex chuckled and looked over at Michael who had a disgusted look on his face.

“Thanks for the gross image, now get out,” Michael said, gesturing to the door. Isobel rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I’ll be back when I figure out where the next sacrifice is. I trust you two can keep yourself occupied until then.” Alex felt the heat on his cheeks from the suggestion. She seemed to float out of the house and he and Michael were alone again.

Michael ran his hands over Alex’s shoulders, rubbing circles into his muscles. He sighed and let himself relax back against Michael’s chest. He ran his mouth over his neck as he rubbed, kissing softly. As much as Alex wanted to let this continue, he still had things to do.

“Michael, I have to send some emails. Not to mention I have to try and narrow down the search area for Isobel.” Michael just hummed and sucked gently at his pulse point. Alex moaned softly and let his head roll to the side. He cursed Michael for being so good at distractions.

It took all of his will power to pull himself away from his wandering hands and mouth. Michael pouted and grabbed his arms again. Alex stood his ground and gave him a disapproving look.

“You’ve done nothing but work all week. It’s ok to take a break.” Alex just sighed.

“Working on a way to save your life might I remind you,” he said.

“I feel like I should be insulted that you think I wouldn’t be able to get away from that little police force.” Alex couldn’t help but crack a grin. Michael made fun of him often for the education the academy provided.

“I’ll feel better when I’ve cleared your name.” Michael watched him for a moment before releasing his arms. Alex smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then he made his way over to his open laptop at the kitchen table.

The house was mostly silent for about twenty minutes apart from Michael moving around upstairs. Alex sent the pictures to Kyle and was searching through the police data base to see if there were any patterns to where the victims were found. He marked another red dot on the map for the most recent discovery.

They had sent Isobel and Max to the sewer area where he and Michael had witnessed the sacrifice but there was no indication that Caber had been back since then. If the rituals were moving around, then there must be a pattern. He had always hated ‘connect the dots’ but it’s what his map was turning into.

He was so focused on his map that he didn’t hear Michael come downstairs. In fact he had no idea he was nearby at all until he felt a pair of hands running over his thighs under the table. He jumped slightly and pushed his chair back so he could look down.

Michael just grinned up at him, trying to play innocent. Alex could only watch as he nuzzled his thigh and traced his nose up to where his cock was tucked. Excitement made him twitch under the attention. Michael kissed him through the fabric of his sweats and Alex shuddered.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?” Alex said sarcastically.

“I’m doing nothing. Feel free to keep working,” he replied almost innocently. Alex rolled his eyes and tried to ignore him, reading through the reports again.

Michael’s hands wandered, squeezing and rubbing his legs and thighs. His mouth was focused on gently teasing the outline of Alex’s cock that was slowly hardening. Michael ran his hands up and hooked his fingers in the waist of his sweats. He tugged gently and Alex considered making difficult for him but was more content letting him have his way. He lifted himself and Michael slipped his sweats down his legs and eventually off.

Alex scrolled to the next page of information as Michael’s breath hit his skin. Soft kisses landed on the inside of his thigh and traveled upward at a torturously slow pace. Right as Alex thought he would feel the warm wet of his mouth around him, he moved to the other side, avoiding his now annoying erection completely.

He read the same line for the fifth time as Michael kissed up his other thigh and nibbled at a spot that made him whimper. Alex looked down at his fingers on the keyboard as they trembled. He clenched his fists and demanded his brain focus on the task at hand. But Michael was making it hard to ignore him.

He tapped a few letters into the search bar before Michael was breathing right next to his cock, making it twitch. He ran his lips over him lightly, barely touching at all. Alex dug his nails into his palms and tried to read another sentence.

“You didn’t even ask where I was earlier,” Michael said sweetly from between his legs.

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to.” Alex cursed the way his voice shook.

“I got you a present. Of sorts.” The way he said it made his skin burn. It was then Michael wrapped his mouth around him. Alex’s hands flew from the keys to his hair. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned back in the chair, spreading his legs wider.

Michael worked him slowly, using his tongue to tease the tip while his hands roamed. One moved to cup his balls and run a finger over his ass. Alex’s hips rolled slightly at the stimulation. He pulled on Michael’s hair and felt the rumble of his groan around him.

“The present isn’t this torture right?” Alex gasped out. Michael released him with a wet sound that made Alex tug on his hair again.

“No, it’s not. But I thought I was being nice.” Alex looked down at him in time to watch him drag his tongue from the base of his cock to the head before swallowing him again. His hips jerked up and he moaned loudly.

“What made you think this was nice,” he scolded halfheartedly. He saw the glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he pushed a finger into his ass, making Alex squirm. Michael refused to answer him as he took his cock in until it hit the back of his throat. Alex cursed and let his head fall back again.

Michael picked up the pace and Alex was spiraling fast. The finger in his ass moved in time with the bobbing of Michael’s head. It occasionally curved to just brush over his prostate. The chair he was sitting on squeaked every time his hips rocked forward.

Michael pushed the chair back so he wasn’t under the table anymore. He grabbed Alex’s leg and lifted it over his shoulder. He repeated the same process with the other leg. Alex called out as the finger inside him curved up again. He gripped the edge of the chair to keep himself steady.

“Oh fuck,” Alex moaned out. Michael was too good at this. He sucked harder and Alex was sure he would be content letting him do this forever. His body screamed for more as Michael’s tongue swirled around the tip of his leaking cock. He teetered on the edge of orgasm and he wanted to move but Michael had him pinned.

“Michael please,” he begged. The fingers inside him spread open to make sure he was prepped. Michael took his cock to the back of his throat once, twice… then pulled off. Alex whimpered as he backed away, smirk on his face.

“I need you sensitive,” he said smugly. Alex’s cock throbbed as he tried to glare at Michael who swept him up in his arms.

Michael carried Alex to his bedroom and the smell of rain and lavender overwhelmed him. The room was dark except for the candles scattered about. Alex’s mouth opened but no words came out. How was he supposed to react? His heart pounded in his chest as his emotions ran wild. Then Michael spoke next to his ear.

“Who said I wasn’t a romantic?” His tone was teasing and he set Alex down on the bed. His hand ran over Alex’s face gently.

“What is all this?” Alex asked nervously. The little light the candles actually provided was enough to see his wicked smile. Michael grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off him. He tossed it to the side before grabbing his throat and squeezing.

“I’m going to remind your body exactly who it belongs to.” It didn’t answer his question but he didn’t care. He trusted Michael.

He tugged Alex’s hands forward and positioned them as though he were praying. He walked to the other side of the room and pulled something out of a bag. When he stood in front of him again, he could make out the braiding of rope. Alex’s cock jumped as he remembered the way some people had been suspended at the club.

He had almost forgotten his desperation and need in the surprise of the candles. His hormones hit him full force and his hips rocked on the bed. Michael wrapped the rope around his wrists in a figure eight, occasionally tugging to make sure it wasn’t too tight. Alex thought about squirming to see his reaction but it was too late for that.

Michael pushed him back on the bed and pulled his arms up by the rope, tying the ends around the headboard. The rope was soft but if he pulled too much, there would be marks on his wrists.

“I feel like I should be concerned that you knew how to do that so efficiently,” Alex teased. He heard Michael chuckle in response.

“Isobel taught me a long time ago. She claimed it would be ‘good to know.’” Once Michael was satisfied with the knot he traced his hands down over Alex’s body, making him squirm. He pulled but the rope held him mostly in place. Michael made quick work of his prosthesis and Alex couldn’t help but smile at how good he had gotten at it. He didn’t get to dwell on the sweet thought for long before Michael was back to his torture.

Alex’s hips rolled as Michael’s nails scratched lightly at his hips before one hand wrapped around his aching cock. He moaned and pulled at his ropes again, whining when they didn’t move.

“Makes it harder to be a brat doesn’t it?” His breath caught in his throat as he looked down his body to where Michael was unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and stroking Alex with the other. Alex rocked his hips into Michael’s fist a few times before he released him. He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and crawled onto the bed, hovering above Alex.

“I need you,” Alex begged. Michael traced his finger over Alex’s lips before slipping a couple over his tongue.

“I know what you need, baby,” he said tauntingly. Alex’s hips rolled as Michael dragged his fingers from his mouth and down his body, nails scratching his skin. “You’ll only feel what I want you to.”

Michael vanished from above him and Alex tugged on the ropes, needing some kind of stimulation. His hips jerked up into nothing. He whimpered out Michael’s name and heard him chuckle. He watched as Michael picked up one of the small white candles and carried it back to the bed slowly. He met Alex’s gaze.

“Stay very still for me.” Alex could only nod in response, unsure if he would actually be able to keep the promise.

Michael tipped the candle and poured the wax into his palm. He closed his fist slowly and opened it again before the wax could harden. Then he placed his hand over Alex’s chest and he hissed in surprise. It wasn’t ‘hot’ per say but the warmth seemed to spread throughout his body.

The wax cooled quickly as Michael pulled his hand away. Alex’s muscles in his arms flexed as he tugged at the ropes. Michael leaved over his face and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, avoiding touching any other part of his body.

“How did that feel?” he mumbled against his lips. Alex’s body shook with need but he forced himself to answer anyway.

“Warm. Nice.” His voice was breathy.

“Good. Now close your eyes,” he ordered gently. Alex did as he was told and his skin buzzed as he felt Michael’s breath travel down his body.

He jerked when Michael flicked his nipple with his tongue. He could feel the precum leaking from his cock as it rolled down his length. Michael didn’t focus on his nipple for long before he pulled away. Alex was tempted to crack open his eyes and peak.

A sharp burn hit his sternum. It rolled down towards his navel as his back arched and he cried out. The heat rippled over his skin as though it was Michael’s venom but it eventually cooled. His breath left him in small gasps as he felt Michael’s fingers trace the same path as the heat.

Alex’s cock jumped again and he rolled his hips. He needed to be filled. He needed the relief.

“Michael, please,” he whimpered out.

“Have a little patience. Doesn’t this feel good?” His voice was next to his ear, making him shudder.

“It’s too much,” Alex panted.

“Oh but we’re just getting started,” Michael taunted.

Alex could see the flickering of the candle behind his eyelids. Michael’s finger traced over his jaw and chin, tilting his head back. Alex expected a kiss.

His arms yanked on the ropes as an intense burn settled in the hollow of his throat. He squeaked out a moan that was swallowed by Michael’s lips. His cock begged for stimulation as it twitched and leaked. The wax ran out from the dip in his throat and over his neck. Michael pulled away and dragged his fingers through the wax and over Alex’s collarbone.

The wax hadn’t cooled before the burned started on his sternum again. This time it ran all the way down to his navel and Alex couldn’t help but squirm. He heard Michael chuckle.

“Am I going to have to tie your legs down just to keep you still?” A hot drop splattered over his abs near his hips. He gasped and felt the rope rub welts into his skin as he pulled. Michael’s fingers, covered in hot wax, ran over his bicep and Alex’s hips jerked up again.

“I need you to fuck me Michael. Please, I’m begging.” Michael just repeated the same movement over his other arm.

“Not yet,” he said, voice sweeter than honey. Alex could visualize the smirk that he would be wearing. His tongue would be running over his canines, taunting him with the idea that he might bite him.

Another hot drop splattered on his hips and upper thighs. His legs shook as he tried to stay still. If he moved too much, the wax would run between his legs. He moaned as Michael poured a long line of heat over his other thigh and down to his knee. Alex moaned.

“Michael,” he whispered out, voice shaking.

His cock throbbed again and every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He imagined Michael between his legs as another pool of wax was poured over his thighs, closer to where his legs connected to his pelvis than before.

Alex called out as his hips rocked more, making the wax drip down and over his ass. The heat continued to burn through him and on his skin. He imagined Michael bending his knees back and thrusting into him raw.

Every rough movement would hit just the right place. He would fist his own cock until Michael replaced Alex’s hand with his own. He would bend over him before sinking his fangs into the mark and Alex would grab at his back, leaving red scratches.

“Alex,” Michael panted out next to his ear. Another hot drop hit his pelvis and Alex’s body spasmed.

“Fuck, Michael!” His cock jerked and cum shot over him, mixing with the still cooling wax. His orgasm moved through him in waves, all as Michael whispered in his ear.

“Good boy… good boy… All mine. You’re all mine…”

As Alex came down, the wax cracked on his skin with movement. His eyes fluttered open and he turned his head, looking for Michael. The other candles around the room made sharp angles on his face but he could still see the gentle smile.

Alex lifted his head as much as he could and Michael met him halfway, pressing their mouths together sweetly. Fangs caught his lip and he sighed happily. Michael stood slowly and undid the buckle on his belt. Alex drooled at the way he popped the button. He pushed his jeans down in full view of Alex who’s cock twitched again.

Precum glistened on the head of Michael’s cock as his wrapped his hand around himself and stroked a few times. Then he was moving to grab the lube from the dresser and slicking himself up with the hand not covered in wax. Alex rocked his hips slightly and Michael smiled as he settled between his legs.

He pressed two cool fingers against his hole and pushed them inside easily. Alex’s toes curled and he rolled his hips. Michael scissored his fingers a few times before pulling them out and pressing the head of his cock inside instead. Alex sighed and clenched his fists that were still restrained above him.

“Fuck baby. I’m not going to last long,” Michael said, running his hands over Alex’s thighs and hips. He rolled his hips again and looked up at him, pleading.

“That’s ok. Use me however you need.” Alex rolled his head to the side, making it clear that he really meant what he said. Whatever he needed. He glanced at Michael again, noting the glowing red of his eyes.

Michael thrust his hips forward, burying himself inside Alex. Alex’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan. He felt Michael bend over him and there was a tearing sound as his hands were freed.

As soon as his arms weren’t blocking the mark, Michael’s head was buried in his neck, kissing and licking the mark before biting. Alex’s eyes rolled back as he wrapped his arms around Michael, digging his nails into his skin.

Michael’s hips started to slam into him with little restraint. Alex could hardly make a noise as his own oversensitive cock rubbed against Michael’s abs. He dragged his nails down over Michael’s skin, feeling the growl it elicited from him.

Michael fucked him roughly as he licked away the blood from his throat. Alex could feel the throbbing as he did his best to match Michael’s thrusts. He moaned louder with every move and could feel a second orgasm building fast.

Michael’s fingers dug into his hips as he guided the movement of Alex’s hips. His tongue pressed the wounds closed before he sat up and grabbed Alex’s legs, bending them back so Alex was spread wide.

“Ah—fuck!” Alex grabbed himself and stroked, watching Michael’s face.

His heart raced as he watched Michael’s look of pure ecstasy. He was so attentive. So sweet. Smart. Snarky. Helpful. Devoted. Perfect. Loving…

Alex’s mind went blank as Michael adjusted his hips again to rub against the sweet spot on every thrust. He called out Michael’s name over and over again, more breathless every time until it was just noises of pleasure. Alex twisted his free hand into the sheets and gripped his own cock harder.

“Gunna… cum…” he managed to moan out between noises. Michael grunted above him and any rhythm he had left was gone as he slammed into him.

“Cum with me, baby,” Michael encouraged, breathless. A few hard thrusts later, Alex was shooting another line of cum onto his abs and chest as Michael filled him. Michael ground his hips against Alex’s ass and it only served to drag out both of their orgasms.

Eventually Michael pulled himself out and collapsed beside Alex. He removed the rope from Alex’s wrists but they were clearly bruised. Michael kissed the welts and held Alex’s hands to his chest as his eyes drifted closed.

Alex watched him, knowing he wasn’t asleep. He traced the lines of Michael’s face with his eyes. His heart thumped in his chest and he was sure Michael could hear it, though he never said anything.

The wax on Alex’s body cracked and fell off as he shifted closer to Michael. He gently tugged one of his hands out of Michael’s and ran his fingers over the scratchy stubble along his jaw and cheek. His eyes opened again and they just stared at each other for a moment.

Alex was the one to lean in, kissing him more gently than they ever had before. There was no rush and no desperation in the way their lips pressed together. Everything felt easy with Michael. Even though there was all this outside drama, being with Michael was the only thing that felt right now.

He thought back to old books and poems. Every description of falling in love was defined by a moment. Maybe it was sudden. Maybe it was slow. But this was his moment. In the way their lips moved, hands touched, and the completeness of his heart.

I love you.

#malex #vampire au #malex vampire au #malex fanfiction #malex fic #roswell new mexico fic #michael guerin/alex manes #michael guerin #alex manes

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theasstour · 5 years ago

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 21k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽

A/N: my baby @shepherald... grazie mille my dear one! i’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for bb, and i’ll never be able to put into words how much you mean to me! i love you so much! thank you!

A/N2: so, this is it! last chapter of bb! it honestly doesn’t seem real, and i’m so sad i have to let painter!harry go cos i’ve grown quite fond of him the year i’ve spent thinking about him and this fic! what bb represents is what makes this fic so special to me. i - a plus size woman - never felt like i belonged anywhere. i assumed i was unloveable from never seeing a bigger person like myself in a book or a film where that person was deemed attractive. they were always the clown, or ‘the fat character’, or their entire storyline was based around them needing to lose weight. i’ve gotten pretty fucking tired of never seeing myself represented properly in fiction or irl or ANYWHERE for that matter, so i decided to take matters into my own hands, and i cannot begin to tell you how LIBERATING and AMAZING it felt! to each person who reached out to me saying bb made them confident, made them feel like they weren’t alone, opened their eyes to what life as a bigger person is: i love you all. this is the exact reason why i wrote bb. fat doesn’t equal ugly, it doesn’t equal unloveable, it doesn’t equal any negatively charged words. fat equals beautiful, it equals human. and anyone who ever tries to tell you otherwise can choke lmao. enjoy this last instalment of bb, i love you all so much x

Sunday, 1 March 2020

Y/N had always thought that the biggest changes were those you didn’t pay immediate notice to. Like the changing of the seasons, aging on your birthday, when the clock struck 12 and a new day began. Changes that were caused by time; that could not be prevented. Loads of changes couldn’t be prevented, but it was impossible to escape time. Manmade to make life simpler to live, and yet it’s what kills us in the end. However, Y/N had come to learn that some changes – the biggest and worst of them all – pained you so much, they didn’t fully leave your body. Like a volcanic eruption, they’d come every now and again, but would leave you scorched and burning for days. She chose not to think about those changes.

But it was hard when she was out shopping with her younger sister and said younger sister would not stop bloody chattering. The first day of spring had brought nothing but clouds and the occasional fall of some rain. Y/N wasn’t impressed. Wasn’t a new season supposed to bring something else? So far it just felt like any other winter day in south England.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Looking up at Portia, it was painfully obvious Y/N hadn’t been paying attention to anything her sister had been saying.

Portia raised her eyebrows. “Are you taking the mick right now?”

“What?!”

“You’re not even listening to what I’ve been saying.” Portia scanned her Oyster card and walked on into Haggerston station, leaving Y/N sighing behind her. Y/N scanned her own card and followed, knowing that her sister would not stop being annoying unless she asked what she’d been talking about. The second she began talking again, she’d forget Y/N wasn’t listening to begin with.

The two were on their way to Victoria Station, Portia was going back home after having stayed with Y/N in her shared flat in Hackney for two weeks, having had some modelling jobs to attend to. And now that she was done, she would be going home to their mother and staying there for a week until she had to come back down to London for some more jobs. Y/N was getting rather sick of her little sister staying with her when she could easily find her own flat, but she figured she’d bring that conversation up another time. A time when she hadn’t pissed her sister off already that day.

“Tia,” Y/N said as they reached the Southbound platform, the windy remnants of the storm that had just been making it freezing to be taking the Overground and wait outside for the next tube to arrive. “What were you saying?”

“Do you even care?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“This bloke I’ve been going on dates with while I’ve been here, right,” Portia started crossing her arms over her chest as the tube started approaching, knowing that a gust of wind would accompany it. “He’s got this friend that’s been eyeing me up the two times I’ve met him. He’s fit and everything, but I’m seeing Azeem, you know.”

“Tell Azeem his mate makes you feel uncomfortable and he’ll do something about it till next time you meet.”

“But he doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable, that’s the thing.” Portia sighed as the two girls walked up to the yellow line, waiting for the train to stop so they could get on. “I just think it’s annoying.”

“That men find you attractive?”

“That the fit one’s are always the ones I can’t have.”

“Oh, my days, Portia.” Y/N mumbled, getting on the Overground and sitting down in one of the orange and brown seats. Portia sat down next to her, putting her bag on the ground beside her feet.

“What, Y/N?”

“You just sound like a bellend.”

“How?”

Y/N gave her a look.

“How?!”

“’The fit one’s are always the ones I can’t have’? At least you’re dating someone, and they’re interested in you.”

“And Azeem is delicious, but his mate’s got…”

“Got what?”

Portia sighed. “Got nice arms.”

Y/N leaned her head against the wall behind her, it swayed with the moving coach.

“I know it’s not all about looks.”

“It really is not.”

“But I still can’t help myself.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“Don’t be rude.” Portia nudged her sister’s shoulder. “If you’d just go out and date people as well, you’d have the same problems.”

Y/N huffed, looking at Portia. “Doubt it.”

Portia rested one leg on top of the other, examining her nails. “You’re so boring sometimes.”

“Cheers.”

“No,” Portia glanced at Y/N again. “But isn’t it boring to just be sat inside all day?”

“Oh, it’s incredibly boring to get an education.”

Portia rolled her eyes.

“Go out of my mind going to lectures, writing my dissertation, doing other assessments, and applying to thousands of jobs a day.”

Portia crossed her arms, looking ahead.

“So boring.”

“I know you pride yourself on the fact you’re gonna be a vet.”

“Shouldn’t I?”

Portia sighed, refusing to answer. The two kept quiet after that. Y/N knew in order to make Portia shut up, she just had to bring up her education. Portia was fully aware that Y/N was the smartest one out of the two of them – quite frankly, the smartest one in their entire family – and if Y/N rubbed it in, Portia would keep quiet. Reminding her sister how she’d gotten into the University of her dreams and was doing great, was a low blow, Y/N knew that. But at the same time, Portia just pissed her off so much sometimes that she simply could not help herself.

The two got up as they reached their stop at Canada Water, and walked off towards the Jubilee line once the tube doors opened. Portia’s bag kept bumping into Y/N as they walked, and though she would normally tell her to piss off, to keep her bag closer, she didn’t know. Giving Portia a reason to start shouting at her in the middle of a tube station was not ideal. She was mad enough as it was.

They got on the escalator, Y/N was just about to tell Portia what direction to walk in once they reached the bottom since her little sister always forgot, but Portia gasped before Y/N got the chance. Looking up at her sister, Portia’s eyes were wide, a small smile lingering on her lips. She pointed to the digital posters that lined the wall along the escalator, making Y/N look to her right to see what had gotten her sister all excited.

It was the colour that stood out first. She remembered the exact shade of it. The painting stood out second, then the colour of the person’s hair, the shape of their body, the shoes. The landscape, the warm colours. It was her. It was the same day she’d found Viola. The same day Harry had supposedly… No, she couldn’t even finish that thought. She’d tried not to think of him for months now. As they passed another one of the posters, she looked at it again. In white and bold letters, the text on the poster said ‘H. Styles’ exclusive and limited new exhibition. 11:00-18:00. 23rd February – 1st March. Dover Street, Mayfair. £10 admission.’

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Portia said, tapping her finger against the screen multiple times as they passed yet another one of the posters. “What the fuck?”

The exact same statement was going on repeat in Y/N’s head as well. Seeing the painting, seeing herself on that poster, it brought back so incredibly many memories from a time she had tried to forget.

Ever since they had parted ways, Y/N and Harry had only talked on a handful of occasions. They would text one another – very early on, Harry even called her twice (only after making sure the time zones weren’t fucked and she wasn’t asleep) -, and they did so for a long while, but then Harry’s answers got shorter and shorter, and Y/N felt like he might be falling out of love. She didn’t want to ask him in case she was reading too much into things, afraid of what the answer might be. She was still in love with him, would probably be so till the day she died, but she didn’t want to force him to talk to her if he wasn’t feeling it anymore.

As time went on, their text conversations got less frequent, and by Christmas, they weren’t talking at all. Y/N had tried to forget about him, thinking that he might have just viewed what they had as an intense summer romance and that was it. After all, he was a passionate and artistic man, maybe he fell in love with the thought, image, and what she represented to his summer more than her person. It all hurt to think about, which was why she rarely allowed herself to think about him at all. She hadn’t seen him in almost seven months, she was terrified of what that distance had done to them. To his heart. Because hers still longed for his in every way a person could yearn for another. It proved hard living apart from a person whose name you had etched onto the organ that kept you alive.

They reached the bottom of the escalator and the two girls stepped off, Y/N blinking a few extra times because she simply could not hold tears back when she was thinking about Harry. Portia walked beside Y/N, mouth agape.

“Y/N,” she said. “We have to go.”

Y/N sniffled, pretending it was because she’d caught a cold. “Why?”

Portia glanced at her as if she was insane.

“What?”

“Don’t even start, Y/N. We’re going. I need to see those paintings and so do you.” Portia walked onto the Jubilee tube, Y/N following straight after. They held onto a pole, and when Y/N averted her eyes to the advertisement on the walls of the coach, she saw Harry’s poster again. They were everywhere, how hadn’t she noticed them before?

“Dover Street.” Portia said. “Right by Piccadilly, innit?”

“Yeah.”

“Brill, we just jump off at Green Park and walk for like five minutes and we’ll be there.”

Y/N sighed, suddenly feeling like she needed to throw up.

Portia grinned, looking at Y/N. “I’m excited now.”

“Portia, this is a bad idea.”

“It’s a splendid idea.” Portia corrected. “I need to see all the paintings. I’m sure they’re amazing.”

Y/N had never told Portia she hadn’t seen the paintings herself, that Harry hadn’t let her. But then again, there were a lot of things she hadn’t told Portia about last summer and H. Styles. Her heart was beating way faster than normal, she was suddenly sweating. The notion that Harry might be there was overwhelming, that he had probably been in London for a while now but not contacted her made her entire body ache in a way it had never done before. Though Harry being at his own gallery didn’t make sense on any other days than the opening one, Y/N was still sick thinking about meeting him. He wouldn’t be there, but she still was wary of going.

“What’s gotten into you, you look faint.” Portia pointed out, raising her eyebrows.

“I think it’s a really bad idea to go to that exhibition.”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Portia groaned. “These are paintings of you. You’re literally the star of the whole thing.”

Y/N shrugged.

“Besides, I don’t think we have to pay a tenner since you literally spent all summer with him so he could paint you. Free admission equals ‘why the fuck not’.”

Would Harry even want her there? They hadn’t talked after all; he hadn’t told her he was in London. Maybe he didn’t want her to come see the paintings. Maybe he just wanted her to stay away.

She hated how much she was overthinking this. The last thing she wanted to do was step on Harry’s toes, especially now that they hadn’t spoken in a while. Especially because she loved him and was afraid he didn’t anymore. However, realising the reason she was overthinking in the first place, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was because Harry meant so much to her. Never could she face him now without knowing if he felt the same way about her.

Portia dragged Y/N off at Green Park, walking towards the exit with an excited gleam in her eyes. Y/N’s stomach hurt so much she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to lay down in a foetal position and die. This was all so sudden, so overwhelming. They exited the underground, and as they reached the outside again, the sun was shining and the wind didn’t seem as horrible. It didn’t ease Y/N’s nerves one bit, though.

It took them a total of three minutes to reach Dover Street, and the exhibition was one of the first things that caught Y/N’s eyes. The entire front was made of glass, covered in a baby blue sheet that read ‘H. Styles’ new exclusive exhibition.’ Portia gripped Y/N’s arm, squealing before she looked both ways and crossed the street. Y/N knew Dover Street was known for having numerous contemporary art galleries, but looking down the street, none stood out as much as Harry’s. It was impossible to view any of the paintings through the windows, undoubtedly leaving people wanting to pay the 10 quid to do just that. Y/N was torn between actually wanting to walk inside or sprint back to Hackney.

“Why’re you hesitating? Come on!” Portia took Y/N’s hand and opened the door with the other, forcing Y/N in first.

The reception was dark, absolutely everything covered in black from the floor to the ceiling. There was nothing on the walls, nothing that stood out. But in the middle of the room stood another black wall, covering the proper entrance to the actual exhibition. In front of it stood a reception desk in the same colour, and behind it sat an old man, but he was accompanied by a figure Y/N recognised right away. Portia walked straight up to the desk, a huge smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the old man said, smiling right back at her.

“Hi, my sister and I would love to just enter the exhibition, please.”

“20 pounds, then.” Jamie said, standing bent over a pile of papers that they were signing and reading over.

“No, you don’t understand,” Portia started, turning around and beckoning Y/N over. “My sister is a good friend of H. Styles.”

Jamie looked up, their eyes immediately landing on Y/N. And just like that, she was brought right back to last summer and everything Jamie had told Harry on one of her last nights there. So many memories washed over her that it made her a little dizzy. The car rides where she and Jamie would sit in the backseat and discuss animals, life, or anything else that would’ve caught their attention. The other times when they’d wait for Harry to get ready downstairs. She didn’t know how to act. Did she give them a hug? Did she smile? Did she say something? This was exactly why she didn’t want to go.

“Y/N,” Jamie said, standing up straight.

“So you recognise her!” Portia was elated. “Can we just walk on in then?”

Jamie and Y/N didn’t break eye contact, both at a loss for words. It was clear that something went down between them, that there was something unspoken in the air of the reception hall. Y/N looked away, not wanting to have Portia ask her about Jamie once they entered the gallery. She didn’t want to tell her; didn’t want to recount anything from her time in Italy.

“Yeah,” Jamie hastily reached for two brochures, locking eyes with Y/N again as he handed them to her. Portia raised her eyebrows, catching on that something was going on. She looked at Y/N. “Don’t take any photographs, if any of our guards see you do so, you will be asked to leave and pay a fine. Other than that, I hope you enjoy.” Y/N knew they were talking to both her and Portia, but by the look in their eyes, she felt as though they were talking to her alone.

“Thank you very much.” Portia smiled, taking one of the brochures and walking away from them.

Y/N looked at the brochure, just as baby blue as the sheet that had covered the front of the gallery, the same writing on it as well. Her eyes met Jamie’s again, and there was something about the way they glanced at her that was so sad. Somewhere in the wrinkle between their eyebrows Y/N saw an apology of sorts. Regret so deep and intense that she could feel it herself. They didn’t say anything, but Y/N felt the agony; saw something in their eyes that she hadn’t experienced herself, but that they needed her to see. She gave them a small smile before following Portia and walking around the wall behind the reception desk, keeping her eyes on the brochure in her hands.

If meeting Jamie had her shaken up this bad, she didn’t even want to begin to think what an encounter with Harry would bring. The leaflet was shaking in her hand, begging for her to open it. What would it even hold? Copies of the paintings? No, if they weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, why would he have them attached in leaflets for anyone to see?

“Oh, my word.” Portia said, making Y/N look up.

The entrance to the gallery had her halting. Just like everything else, she recognised it right away. All over the wall was a painting she’d seen on her first week last summer; seen on one of her last days when she’d shown it to Harry.

“When I first moved into the flat, I found a painting in this wardrobe.” She pulled it down, taking a glance at the autumn painting depicting a gravel path leading nowhere into darkness. Turning around, she walked back over to the bed, handing the painting to Harry. “That’s only one of like, two of your paintings I’ve really seen, other was one of the sea back in your house. Mind if I ask what inspired this one?”

A projector planted it on the dark surface, welcoming the guests to the gallery. A gravel path leading off far into the dark distance, tall oak trees surrounding it, filled with the rich colours of autumn. Though it was filled with yellow and green, two colours that would normally have positive connotations, Y/N couldn’t help but get quite the opposite vibes staring at it, just like all the other times she’d seen it. There was something about it she couldn’t put her finger on. Like there laid a secret at the end of the path; an explanation in the black of the unknown.

“It’s the drive to my house back in Manchester. The drive up to my childhood home, or… this is facing the other way.” He explained, dragging his finger gently along the gravel path. “It’s what you see when you’re leaving.” He shifted the attention of his finger to the trees of different colours. “Autumn, the dull colours…” he trailed off, as if reliving a memory he’d almost suppressed; something he’d pushed so far into the back of his head it had almost vaporised and disappeared into nothingness. “This was when I left home, when I first moved to London.” He pointed at the darkness at the end of the gravel path. “That’s the end of the road, I couldn’t make it out clearly. My future, I mean. It’s all supposed to represent uncertainty.”

Portia looked over her shoulder at Y/N, squealing. The darkness at the end of the painting was a hallway, a dark corridor that seemed to be leading off into nowhere. Her sister stood there waiting for her, reaching her hand out so they could walk through the darkness together. But Y/N needed to take a moment and just look at the wall, because it was one of the very first of his paintings she’d ever seen, and now she was about to see all of the other paintings he had refused to let her see. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, took Portia’s hand, and the two walked into the dark hallway. Y/N felt her grip on Portia’s hand tighten for each step they took

“Why didn’t they just put some bloody lights in here?-“

But just as Portia said that, the exhibition was revealed to them. It was black. Dim white lights lit up the room on the walls and ceiling, illuminating the floating balls that were lined up down the room. Looking at the walls first, Y/N realised the light appeared as stars. Dotted along the walls and ceiling, lighting up the room and revealing the huge round objects that appeared to be floating, but was held from the ceiling and the floor by metal poles. The first one was completely dark, and as the two sisters walked on closer, Portia gasped a little.

“Y/N,”

“What?”

“How many planets are there in our Solar System?”

Y/N frowned, but as her eyes met Portia’s she understood immediately. Taking a step to the side, she looked down the room, seeing that there were quite a few others visiting the gallery as well. Harry was an immense painter, after all. Everyone knew who he was. However, Y/N couldn’t focus on the other people in the room with her, she started counting the different sized round objects that were nicely lined.

“Eight.” Y/N answered.

“And how many-“

“-Eight.”

Portia squeezed Y/N’s hand, eyes wide with some kind of realisation. The sisters looked at one another for a minute before Portia opened her mouth to speak again.

“Why the fuck has he done that, Y/N?”

Y/N shook her head. “Dunno.-“

“-You do.” Portia said. “That’s why that person back there looked at you all intense as well, wasn’t it? What happened last summer? You never spoke of it.”

Y/N sighed, closing her eyes. “Portia, it’s… it’s incredibly complicated and… and it’s a long story.”

Portia groaned, clinging to Y/N’s arm. “I don’t care, Y/N. I want to know. For fuck’s sake, look around you,”

Y/N opened her eyes, doing as her sister told her to.

“It’s so painfully obvious, Y/N.”

Y/N refused to believe it was. She didn’t want to believe that what Portia was insinuating was true, because it would mean the last few months had been for nothing. It would mean the countless hours she’d cried, the times she stopped herself from thinking about him, from yearning for him, from going back to a time spent with him and cursing herself for doing so; it was not worth it. Trying to forget him had meant nothing.

Portia tapped Y/N’s arm, catching her attention. She gestured at the painting they stood in front of, giving Y/N a little smile. Y/N looked at it, and she was immediately taken back to the exact moment of it.

There was a hole in the planet in the shape of the canvas, white light washing over it to reveal it completely to the gallery visitors. Portia opened the catalogue as Y/N studied the painting Harry had never let her view. His first painting of her.

“Miss Sweeney,” Harry said, pointing at the hill. “You-“

“-You can just call me Y/N.”

“You need to stand far away.”

Shocking. But there was no use making that comment. She took her cardigan off, putting it along with her purse in the backseat of the car.

“You will find a tree further down if you just walk straight ahead, it’s got a blue ribbon on it. Stop there with your back facing me. And don’t move until I tell you so.”

As she started walking down the hill, she could feel Harry watching her, studying her every move and every surface of her body. She supposed he wanted to make sure she found the ribbon, as well as to see what he was working with.

An abundance of colours surrounded her; green, grey, yellow, brown. She could barely make out the baby blue dress amongst the nature swallowing her, there was no way of knowing the colour of her hair, the proper colour of her skin, or any of her characteristics. The only thing that stood out was the colour of her dress, but even that wasn’t as prominent as she remembered the colour to be.

“Won’t that smear the paint everywhere?”

Harry looked at her, those two familiar lines appearing between his brows. “How?”

“Shouldn’t it be left to dry or something?”

“It’s dry.”

She frowned back at him. “Already?”

“I finished a while ago, left it to dry for around an hour.”

The memory made her smile some, regardless of how infuriated she remembered being. It was the fact that they had started out like that; polar opposites with absolutely nothing in common. Two people who couldn’t see eye to eye on anything. That fact was easy to note in the first painting, seeing the insignificant role she played in the actual painting. The Tuscan landscape could’ve done fine without her presence in it, she wasn’t even placed in the middle of the painting where nature parted to reveal Fosdinovo, but somewhere to the right of it, in the middle of the trees.

Portia tugged at Y/N’s sleeve, motioning for her to follow her to the next painting behind the first one. It was the same as the first one; a rectangle shaped hole in the dark planet, lights surrounding it to show it off. She smiled again.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“Do you see that rock over there?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“Sit there facing me.”

She knew there was no use saying anything back, so she simply walked over to the rock and sat down like he wanted her to. It wasn’t comfortable to sit on, and she didn’t think she’d be able to sit there for two hours straight. Then again if she decided she needed a break, the painter would undoubtedly show his annoyance in some way. He instructed her to straighten her legs, crossing them at the ankle, leaning back on her hands. He said he wanted her to “be looking directly into the sun.”

“That could literally ruin my eyes.”

“Art goes beyond comfort.”

“I want to be able to see said art.”

Y/N felt like she was transported right back to the moment of the painting, like she could feel, see, smell everything. Though she had known that would probably be the effect once she saw the collection, she hadn’t been aware it would be this intense. The notion Harry had painted these of her; that he had painted them before, during, and after everything happened between them, it struck her. He’d been working on these for so long; she had been a forced part of his life for so long. Maybe that was why they’d stopped talking. He’d gotten tired of her. Gotten enough of her.

The colour of her dress was the same as the previous painting; it stood out, but not in a contrasting way like you thought the colour of baby blue would when surrounded by woods. The white sunlight lit up most of her surroundings, making them blend well with the dress, but then again, she could recall quite clearly how bright the sun had been that day. Though she had hated the heat of the Italian weather in the beginning, towards the end she’d gotten kind of used to it. It was almost cold coming back home to a normal British summer.

Y/N groaned, positioning her head like he wanted her to. “Went to this baker Wednesday.” It just slipped out. She had genuinely not meant to say it, but now that she’d already mentioned it, she might as well go all the way.

Harry didn’t respond.

“Said you were known around town as the grumpy Brit.”

She didn’t see him stop painting, but she could tell he halted a little. “Who said that?”

Trying not to smile as she had somehow managed to capture his attention. “Does it matter?” Y/N didn’t know why people wanted to know what someone else thought of them. It was out of their control. Then again, she supposed, she’d brought it up so it was partly her fault he asked in the first place.

Harry huffed.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What was the –“ Y/N imitated his exasperated huff.

“Whoever said that,” Harry said, bending down a bit and disappearing completely behind the canvas. “They’re a fucking knobhead.”

Y/N nodded her head, pursing her lips before she clicked her tongue loudly. Harry glanced up. “Great argument.”

It was weird how there had been a time prior to how she was feeling now. That at the time of this painting, she hadn’t been in love with Harry. The hands that had created this artwork hadn’t yet touched her; hadn’t yet loved her. She wanted to reach through the glass that separated the canvas from them; wanted to feel the paint and the memories that came with it.

But Portia was impatient, having already started walking around the planet to the next one. She looked down into the brochure, a furrow to her brows and concentration on her face as she read something on it before taking in the third painting. This was the one Y/N almost remembered best. This was the one that changed her and Harry’s relationship in a way neither of them was made aware of till after. You don’t realise the pivotal moments in your life till after they’ve happened, but as they’re happening, you don’t understand their incredible impact. Harry nor Y/N knew how big of a role Viola would play in their lives. What her presence would do to them.

“Is that a smile I see?” she teased. “You got a rise out of me, and now you’re pleased with yourself?”

He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head without looking away from the painting before him.

“Right then.” Y/N said, eager to get the conversation going again. “What’re you best at? There’s a lot of stuff you can do with gymnastics, innit?”

Harry wasted no time. “Swing bar.”

Y/N’s eyebrows immediately shot upward. Trying to be subtle, she let her eyes fall to his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and the curve of his slight biceps. The tan he’d gotten did wonders to the outline of his muscles. Stop, stop, stop-

“Explains the arms.”

Oh. My. God. Immediately she felt her cheeks heat up. And her blushing got worse when Harry looked up at her. He huffed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been checking me out.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have not.”

She walked closer, feeling her bottom lip start to wobble as she saw the painting. Harry had depicted the cliff, the ocean, the forest, the atmosphere of that clifftop perfectly. It was exactly as she remembered it. Just looking at it brought her back to finding Viola, to watching Harry pet her to calm her down, the closeness in the back of Gioele’s car. How willing Harry was to help. How good he’d smelled. How hot his skin had been against hers. That was the first time she’d ever seen him smile; first time she’d seen him happy. It was the first time she saw him show compassion; saw him worry. She hadn’t known then, but she knew for certain now, that if Viola hadn’t stepped out of the woods at that second on that day while Harry and Y/N hadn’t been talking, then none of this would’ve happened.

“What?” His voice was a whisper, the small word leaving his lips like a simple puff of air that hit her jaw, sending a storm of goosebumps up and down her back.

“Your…” she started, swallowing thickly before looking down at the cat in her arms. “Your moped.”

“I’ll get it later.”

She hated that he sounded like he wasn’t faced by the close proximity at all.

“What if someone steals your painting?”

Looking up at him, she realised once again how close they were. They might have been close earlier when he helped calm the cat down outside, but this… this was close. She felt his hot breath against her lips, in her nose; felt his eyes on her like there was nowhere else to look in the car; felt everything too much. He was… so handsome. So incredibly good looking. There was undoubtedly sweat along her hairline and cupid bow, but she literally could not reach up to remove it right now. She was unable to move, not only because of the cat, but because of Harry.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N,” Portia said, pointing at the painting. “What’s that?”

Y/N walked over, looking at what Portia had asked her about. Though she didn’t see it at first, having mistaken it for a dark rock or something alike, Y/N gasped a little when she realised what it was. Small pointy ears, fur a dark brown with some striped black and desert brown and a tail swaying upward. The cat was so tiny, hidden amongst the tall grass by the forest, looking at Y/N with big pleading eyes. Y/N had almost forgotten what Viola looked like, but seeing her on the canvas, it was like being back in Fosdinovo, walking the cobblestoned streets with the little kitten following her every step.

“Viola.” Y/N answered, blinking a few times as her eyesight started to blur.

“What?”

“A cat.”

“A live one?”

“I, uhh,” Y/N nodded. “The day of that painting we found an injured cat in the woods and brought her to the nearest vet so I could help nurse her. She’d broken her foot.”

Portia looked at Y/N, raising her eyebrows. “And you called her Viola?”

“Yeah,” Y/N didn’t take her eyes off the cat. “She stayed with me the rest of the summer.”

Portia turned to face her sister. “Where is she now?”

“Dunno.” Y/N sighed. “I… dunno.”

Y/N looked at Portia, giving her a little smile before walking towards the next painting. Looking at Viola and knowing that she’d left the cat in Harry’s house in Fosdinovo, also knowing Harry had most likely moved out of the Italian mountain village, it hurt. She had no idea what happened to the cat after she left. Absolutely no idea of how she was doing or who was taking care of her now. There were many times when Y/N had cursed herself for not bringing Viola back home with her. After all, they had created a little bond between them that Y/N now realised would stay with her forever.

Walking up to the fourth painting, Y/N felt herself halt some, watching as Portia walked right up to it to study it properly. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was because Harry had taught her about how he painted during the summer, if she was getting an eye for these things, or if she was just that observant, but she could swear there was something about this one that set it apart from the other few she’d seen up till now.

It dawned on her that for each painting, her figure had gotten closer and closer to Harry. As if the focus shifted from the nature around her to her alone. From far away in the first one, to taking up the whole lower half of the canvas in this fourth one. Her figure was the first thing you saw. The baby blue dress that only barely covered her bum, her bare legs, her white knee socks, her white docs.

“Don’t bend your knee that much.”

Y/N readjusted her knee.

“No.”

“Then how?!”

The grass shifted behind her, and looking to her right, she noticed Harry walking over. For some reason, Harry getting closer got her heart beating so hard she heard it in her ears and her muscles tensing. He sat down before her, a concentrated furrow to his brows that wasn’t at all intimidating. He just looked focused, deep inside his own head, constructing and planning his new painting.

For some reason, she hadn’t thought of the reason for Harry coming over, only that he was. So when he reached for her leg, she almost jumped.

She blinked as she remembered the first time Harry touched her willingly like that. How he had barked orders at her in the beginning, to coming over and moving her leg like he’d done. It made her thigh seem very cold all of a sudden.

“You’re not being serious right now.” Portia hissed, sliding her finger in the air along with the outline of the mountains at the far back of the painting.

They were dark against the pink, orange, and blue sky, so was the forest, making Y/N stand out majestically against everything else. The hint of a small white outline in the sky showed the presence of the early moon, welcoming the oncoming night. Y/N couldn’t remember seeing the moon that afternoon, but then again, she didn’t remember much besides the fact that she laughed with Harry that day and he touched her bare thigh. But Portia had miraculously seen what had captured Y/N’s attention as well. The landscape in the painting, though it wasn’t blatantly obvious, it resembled her figure. It swayed where her hips did; dipped where her legs did. It did so in a natural manner, Harry had made them seem like actual mountains and not just a replica of her curves, but Y/N couldn’t see anything else.

“The blue,” Portia said, pointing at Y/N’s dress and then at the slight streak of blue in the sky. “Kinda looks alike, does it not?”

Y/N didn’t pay much attention to it. She started walking away, eager to see the next painting, which she knew was a very special one because it might be the one she remembered the most clearly. As she rounded the planet and started walking toward the fifth one, a huge white orb caught her attention. The detail in all of Harry’s creations caught her off guard, but the moon she was looking at right now looked so real it took her breath away. She saw herself standing in the water; saw the baby blue dress; the knee socks and her Dr Marten’s in the sand. It all looked like a photograph, only the moon was abnormally big. But all his paintings looked so real it was almost like if you stripped the display of the glass protection, you could walk right into the world he’d created on the canvas and live there forever.

“What about you?” he asked again, voice low like a mumble.

Y/N hoped he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was hammering, how every nerve in her entire body was on high alert, how every cell was screaming for him to get closer. “What about me?”

“You’re never as alone as your head makes you believe. The moon is always there.” He said, eyes searching her face. “What about you?”

“Will I always be there?”

He just looked at her, clearly thinking that his look was answer enough.

Her breath hitched somewhere in her throat, and she hoped the rush of emotions that was running through her didn’t show on her face. Portia looked at her with an open mouth before taking in the fifth painting. Y/N knew exactly how her sister was feeling; that overwhelming need to ask herself and everyone else in the room if this was an actual painting, or something from someone’s most desired fantasy captured exactly as it was and printed onto canvas. And maybe it was. But Harry had taken days, weeks, months to finish these paintings, Y/N knew. She remembered those times when she’d watch him paint and he’d refuse to let her see them. She didn’t know why he didn’t want her to see them.

It was so beautiful it was hard to believe someone had made it; it just seemed too celestial for it to be real. She wanted to touch it where Harry had touched it, feel the strokes he’d made, the lines of paint. There was something about this one that sent a shock of pain through her heart no medicine could cure.

“I’d stay up only to get a small glimpse of you.”

She balled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her skin to hold herself back from crying. Because all she could remember was how fast Harry had kissed her back when she’d kissed him, the feeling of his lips against hers, and the taste of peach tea on his tongue. His hands roaming her body, gripping onto her thighs as she hooked her legs around his waist. His body against hers, their cells mingling, the moon shining her white light down on them, and the ocean swaying around them.

Portia walked around the planet and onto the next one, and giving the moon one last glance, Y/N followed her. Y/N couldn’t even remember this one. Maybe it was because everything that happened after the wedding blurred together, or maybe she’d just not thought about it enough for it to take up space in her head. But as she got closer, the idea of her being a model for this painting seemed unlikely.

The canvas was black as night, a huge moon in the centre of it like the one before. A figure was floating in the middle of the white moon, a baby blue gown clinging to its form and floating up behind them like they were sinking. As she got closer, Y/N saw that this wasn’t her. All the other paintings were of her, but this one wasn’t. This was Harry.

His arms were floating at an almost 90-degree angle, the baby blue gown hovering behind his arms and torso, just barely covering some of his thighs and crotch. One of his knees was bent a bit more than the other, and the tattoos he had up and down his muscular legs were very visible, making Y/N think back to a time she’d been allowed to touch them. His neck was craned backward, eyes closed and mouth parted ever so slightly, bubbles of air leaving him and making a hasty return for the water’s surface. She remembered his fright of the dark, how much he hated the ocean, but his facial expression showed one of peace. He didn’t seem afraid; didn’t seem like he dreaded any of it. It seemed like he was okay; ready to reach tranquillity and the ultimate meaning to life. He was surrendering himself, it seemed.

“Y/N, I swear to you,” Portia said, pointing at different places on the painting. “Look.”

“At what?”

“You mean you don’t see it?”

“See what, Portia?” Y/N knew she must sound irritated, but with everything going on and all the emotions she was feeling at once, she simply could not hold her anger back.

“The painting,” Portia directed Y/N’s attention back to the canvas. “Do you see?”

Y/N took a closer look.

“Do you see all the blue?”

And it was like her little sister flicked a switch, and suddenly, Y/N saw it. Blue. Baby blue. It was hidden in the waves along the top of the painting, in the shadows of the water, in and around the moon, in his hair, his body, his gown. Taking a few steps back, Y/N wondered how she hadn’t picked up on the blue right away. It was all over the painting. Most of the details on that canvas were baby blue.

Quickly, Y/N walked all the way back to the first painting. Portia just watched her, unsure what was going on, but not wanting to interrupt something if Y/N had come to some sort of realisation.

The only blue in the first one was her dress, in the second one, the sky resembled her dress some. In the third, the sky, ocean, and a bit of the grass surrounding her held the same colour as her and her dress, and in the fourth the landscape swayed along with her form, the sky, the woods, and certain highlights were the exact colour of the dress. How hadn’t she seen it all the first time around? Because once she took a few steps back, the baby blue stood out starkly against everything else. Marching straight past the fifth and the sixth, Y/N wanted to see the last two. Because the second to last put the finishing touch on everything.

The entire canvas was baby blue. Her form was outlined in white, but none of her features were shown. Her breasts, face, or any other part of her body was not included. But Y/N would remember that exact pose till the day she died and long after that also. Because it was the one where Harry had drawn on her; her arms above her head, her knee bent, leg resting over the other. She wondered if this had been the one he’d painted when she laid on the floor of his loft, but why had he been so incredibly detailed when he painted on her if he was just going to erase it forever? Not include it in one of his masterpieces? It didn’t make any sense.

“You let him draw you like one of his bloody French girls.” Portia hissed, about to burst out laughing when she stopped herself. The room was silent as people walked through the exhibition, neither of them wanted to be thrown out or something to that effect.

Y/N looked at her sister. “Yes.”

Portia’s eyes got wide. “Shut the fuck up.”

“He painted on me.”

“Shut. Up.”

Y/N glanced at the painting again, noting that the only thing on that canvas was the very careful outline of her.

“Exactly how well did you fuck him for him to do that?”

“Portia!” Y/N hissed. “Leave off.”

“I’m serious, Y/N, this seems like the summer of your entire life.” Portia smiled, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Did he do you good at least?”

Y/N only gave her a look.

“Oh, come on.” Portia pouted. “I just found out my sister has been shagging with my boss all summer, I want the deets.”

“Can that happen another time? I’m a little busy-“ Y/N gestured around her and Portia nodded, clearly eager to be done here so she could hear Y/N explain everything to her over the phone on her commute home.

“You know,” Portia started, holding up the leaflet. “If you’d just bothered and taken the time to look in the brochure, there’s a lot of information about all the paintings.”

Y/N frowned.

“I kind of had my suspicions about the two of you before you even said something just now.”

Y/N looked down at her brochure, reading the front of it again as she walked toward the last painting. She wanted to go through everything one more time and read the leaflet, she needed to know all the details and all the reasons why Harry had done what he’d done. When she glanced up again, the first thing she noticed was how the planet surrounding the canvas was glowing. A dark golden colour, looking a little like the moon, but as if it was on fire on the inside, the surface of it pure gold. She turned around and looked down the row of planets, meeting Portia’s eyes right after.

“The first one is black,” Portia said. “And the last one is golden.”

Y/N felt her heart hammering faster, felt herself begin to sweat.

“With each planet, you slowly fade into-“

“-Venus.” She finished, looking at the last planet she’d been named after. Y/N Venus Sweeney. She was so overwhelmed she felt a little faint, though she hadn’t known what to expect from the exhibition, this – all of it – was not it. She didn’t want to draw conclusions and think this whole collection was about her, but right now, looking at everything around her, it was hard to think anything else.

She still had one more painting to go, so she grabbed the leaflet and walked to stand in front of it. Instantly, she remembered it. She’d seen this one before. It seemed like ages ago, but she had seen this painting. It was the same one Gioele had stolen from Harry’s house and given to Salvatore and Carina as a wedding gift. Y/N had no idea why that one would be in the collection, what had made Harry put it there. She was just about to open the brochure and read what it said about this particular one when she heard a commotion behind her. The screeching of joggers against the floor as if someone was running, some gasps, Jamie shouting something.

Y/N turned around, and she recognised him right away. Her heart immediately started screaming his name. He walked down the row of planets in a haste, frantically scanning the crowds surrounding each quickly till he came to the last one where she stood. He stopped abruptly as his eyes landed on hers, a sigh of relief leaving him in between pants for air. Had he been running? Quickly, he swallowed, trying to regain his composure before he did anything. While he did that, Y/N took him in.

His hair had grown, he must’ve trimmed it some since last summer, but his curls were lush, his hair thick, and just as brown as she remembered it. He was wearing a colour-block patchwork cardigan with all the colours of the rainbow, a white tee shirt with some blue artwork printed on it, washed denim jeans, and his signature pink Converse. He looked healthy, maybe not as tan as she remembered him to be, but he looked good. He looked like the same Harry she had fallen in love with back then; it was still him. He was here. Right before her. After months apart, he was here.

“Y/N.” He said, voice faint as he took a reluctant step forward. It was like he realised what he was doing – getting closer to her when he had no idea if she still wanted that - and was almost about to take a step backward again but stopped himself.

She was unable to say anything at all. One second she had been about to take in the last painting of the collection, and the next Harry had rushed into his gallery and now he stood right in front of her. It didn’t seem real. The months they hadn’t talked, the months they hadn’t seen each other. They all hung in the air between them, pushed them apart from one another; demanding them to keep separated. She wanted to defy their distance, wanted to fling herself into his arms and melt into him like she had done so many times before, but the uncertainty, the separation, and the many curious eyes watching them stopped her.

Harry was about to say something else when his eyes fell on something behind her, clamping his mouth shut.

“Hi,” Portia said. “Don’t know if you remember me.”

“I-I do, I…” Harry’s eyes fell to Y/N again as he trailed off, glancing back at Portia after clearing his throat. “Portia.”

“And you’re H. Styles.” Y/N could hear the smile in Portia’s voice, and Y/N knew instantly she was taking the piss, telling Harry she knew exactly who he was and why he was here. Whispers were heard, as if the visitors all suddenly realised who they were looking at. Someone gasped and someone on the other side of the room started walking closer. Harry looked around him as if he just understood what he’d done by coming here. Their eyes met again, and Harry let out a sigh.

“Can we talk?” he asked, eyes big and pleading. “Please.”

Y/N looked at everyone around them, then back at Harry, hoping he’d understand that she didn’t want to do it in front of everyone else. Taking a few steps backward, Harry began walking towards the exit of the exhibition, making sure Y/N caught up with him before he started walking normally. Y/N glanced at Portia over her shoulder, but Portia was grinning so widely Y/N knew her sister was okay with her leaving her behind for a bit.

The next room they entered was just as dark as the first one, but the paintings were huge projections onto the walls, ceiling, and floor, showcasing all the details each of them portrayed. Harry walked quickly through the room, having seen this multiple times before – having created this -, but Y/N slowed. The attention to detail was incredible; it looked so real, yet it still looked like art. She was never able to really put her finger on it, but then again, she supposed that was what creativity was. The lines between what was certain and what was a craft from someone’s imagination, blurred to the point of doubt, yet it’s human nature to find an explanation for everything; but in art we find an excuse not to have one. Maybe that was what drew people to it; it was real, but not real enough to need reason.

He held the door open for her, leading her to a smoking area in the back of the gallery. Two trees rose up, some dead grass sprung up between the stone flooring, and, thankfully, no one was there. The sun was still shining, and somewhere not too far off, an ambulance siren was going off. It was weird to be with Harry in an environment other than quiet, warm, rural Fosdinovo, it was almost as if she associated him with the peace of the Italian countryside now. But she didn’t mind having him here in London. Not in the least. In fact, she liked it very much.

“Y/N,” he repeated, almost as if he didn’t really know what else to say; almost as if he had to repeat her name over and over and over again to tell himself that she was really here. He just looked at her, studying her intently, probably to make sure she was okay.

“I didn’t know…” she started, blinking a few times. “Didn’t know you were in London.”

“I’m in London.”

“But I didn’t know you were.”

“But I am.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Harry sighed. “No.”

“Why?”

Harry opened his mouth but hesitated. “I… I just… It’s not as if I…” he ran a hand through his hair, sighing again. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

She frowned. “What made you think that?”

“We haven’t talked in a couple of months, have we? Maybe you’d forgotten about me.”

“You think I’d forgotten about you?” Y/N crossed her arms. “I’m not the one who got disinterested and pulled away.”

Harry’s face screwed up into that familiar scowl she had seen so many times before. “I never bloody lost interest, what’re you on about?”

“Seemed that way over text.”

“Those are text messages!” Harry gestured with his arms, very obviously frustrated. “How much can you tell from a text?!”

“A lot!”

Harry groaned. “Y/N, please.”

She stood her ground, looking at him and waiting for him to say something that would change her mind. How had they gone months without talking, months before that with barely any communication, and he didn’t think she’d be annoyed at him for that. She was annoyed at herself, too. It takes two to communicate.

“I don’t want to fight.” He said. “I… I just… I don’t want to fight. Can we just talk?”

“We’re talking.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the ground, nodding a bit before he dared look up at her. “What’ve you been up to?”

Though she wanted to yell at him, tell him that she’d been busy writing and researching her dissertation, that she had been busy missing him, she composed herself. She might be frustrated, but Harry was trying, so she should as well.

“Uni,” she simply said. “And you?”

Harry let out a short breath through his nose. “Figured, stupid question, really.”

She couldn’t help the slight tug at the edge of her lips.

“Been travelling the world, showing off the exhibition.” He gestured back at the gallery. “It’s been wonderful, but I’m glad it’s over now. Can relax for a bit before I start painting for clients again.”

“It’s quite the exhibit.”

Harry nodded.

“Almost a little too extra.”

He let out a chuckle, eyes falling to the ground again. “You think?”

“Wasn’t it hard travelling around with all of that?” Y/N asked, thinking about the huge planets – or rather Venuses – back in the exhibition. Seemed unlikely that they travelled far distances with all of that, but then again, what did she know, she hadn’t talked to him in a long while. And when they did talk, it wasn’t about the transportation of his collection from country to country because he never talked about it.

“No, we drove around most of the time, then by plane when it got to travelling from continent to continent.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

His eyes flicked between hers, inhaling slowly. The sun hit the top of his hair, making his locks shine like gold, and Y/N remembered the countless number of times before she’d seen his hair like that in the early morning light, or a bright sunset. Memories are supposed to bring you joy, especially those remembered with fondness, but those are also the ones that hurt the most to relive.

“Are we really gonna chat about anything but what we want to chat about?” Harry asked, face very serious all of a sudden.

“Which is?”

“Us.” Harry said, something in his throat making the word almost sound choked. “And… and…”

She waited, feeling her heart beat harder in her chest.

“And us some more.”

She let out a small chuckle.

“What?”

“Start then.”

She could tell he wanted to frown at her, as if he wanted her to have a certain reaction. But he didn’t, instead he let his shoulders fall a bit, taking her in for a few moments more before he decided to start talking again.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

It hurt every time he said that, as if he didn’t believe that what she’d felt this summer wasn’t half of what he had.

“Tortured me to think about you.”

She took a little step backward, not wanting to listen to him talk on about how she’d hurt him.

“But the thought of you also brought me peace, as it always has. Brought me inspiration and motivation.” He took a step closer to her. “I miss you. I’ve missed you since the day I was brought into this world, I never knew I did till I was without you.”

Those three words radiated throughout her entire body, her heart screaming them right back at his. I miss you I miss you I miss you I-

“Please don’t…” he trailed off, balling his hands into fists as if he was mad at himself for not finding the right words for what he was feeling. “Don’t leave.”

She swallowed, not wanting the hundreds of butterflies and warm feelings in her chest to get the better of her when she answered. “Don’t leave… now? In general?-“

“-Don’t leave me. If not as a lover, as a friend. I need you in my life to some capacity.”

“Harry-“

“-I’m in love with you, Y/N.” His voice was so soft, yet urgent. He needed her to feel the same way, to understand what he was talking about. “I love you.”

Every cell in her body vibrated with the effect of those words, telling Harry she felt the same. In every way one person could love another, she loved him.

“If you even feel a fragment the same, please tell me.” His eyes were so big, pleading with her.

She felt so much all at once, finding the right words – finding words at all – was difficult. Every single part of her tried, her brain working hard and fast so she wouldn’t leave him hanging. But that was exactly what she did. So overwhelmed with absolutely everything today had brought, she couldn’t do anything but feel.

Harry’s jaw visibly tensed with the lack of response. “Or don’t.”

She opened her mouth, brain working a hundred miles a second to find words for him.

“If you don’t, then that’s fine. I won’t pretend it’s not gonna hurt and I’ll need some time to come to terms with it.” He sighed, eyes falling to the ground as if he couldn’t look at her now. “I… I was terrified this would happen.”

She couldn’t just stay fucking silent, she had to say something. Speak you bloody nonce, don’t do him like this. “Harry-“

“-What I’ve been most scared about since we stopped talking is that I played an insignificant role in your life, when you played the most significant in mine.” His eyes were still on the flooring, gripping the ends of his colourful cardigan. “A part you won’t talk about with others, that you keep a secret.”

“I’m not ashamed of this summer, Harry-“

“-I feared you’d never need me like I need you.” He said, voice thick with something resembling torment. “Because I just… I know we have no power over who we end up loving, you meet someone and before you know it, they’re so important to you that imagining a life without them in it is like staring uninspired at a blank canvas. But I’ve chosen to pour every ounce of my love onto you. I’ve chosen you, and I’ll continue to choose you without hesitation and without fail, for the rest of my life.”

She felt her eyes sting, fearing that she’d start crying if he continued on talking. Why was it that before their first kiss, Harry hadn’t been one for talking, but after it he hadn’t dithered? Everything he’d told her since had been so heartfelt and true, she felt like he was putting words to her very own feelings.

The right words wouldn’t come, and she felt like the longer she left him standing there in silence, the longer she let him ramble on, the more catastrophic this would get. Because she felt the same for him, but what she felt was so enormous and she was afraid she’d never find words for it. She wasn’t one for art or expression. She studied science and medicine and animals, she knew all that, but she didn’t know how to tell someone like Harry what he wanted to hear. Most of the time, at least before, he didn’t need her to say anything. Her presence, her touch, her comfort was enough for him. He never expected anything else from her but to reciprocate his feelings. Which she did. Oh, did she love him. More than she thought possible.

“I-“ she started, but cut herself off as she didn’t know where it was going. Harry looked up at her instantly, instant hope in his eyes. “Your exhibit.”

Not the appropriate thing to be talking about right now, she thought to herself, but better than nothing.

“Could you explain it to me?”

He blinked. “Explain it?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling every surface of her body heat up. “Because I knew you were painting me, but I didn’t…”

His eyes lingered on her lips for a second, but he quickly composed himself, a slight redness appearing along his cheekbones. A wave of goosebumps ran up her spine.

“I didn’t expect…”

“Didn’t expect the whole exhibition to be about you?”

She just looked at him, biting her bottom lip.

Harry let out an amused chuckle. “You’re the smartest person I know, thought you might get it right away, to be completely honest with you.”

“It took me off guard.”

“Right, should I walk you through it, then?” Harry gestured at the gallery. “Want to see it?”

She sensed irritation in his voice and sighed. “You don’t have-“

“-Don’t fucking say I don’t have to. You asked about the exhibit. You don’t understand, even though I just made it very clear for you. So, let's.”

He walked toward the door, flinging it open and beckoning for Y/N to walk through it first. Walking first, he stomped straight through the entire exhibition, right past people who were leaving. They all looked over at Y/N and Harry as they walked the opposite way, a few raised eyebrows and some whispering. Portia still stood in the first room with the eight planets, looking up as Y/N and Harry came back. A smile first graced her features, but seeing the look on Harry’s face and how fast they were both walking, she quickly pieced together that something was happening.

“This,” Harry said as they reached the reception, pointing at the wall with the projection of that painting Y/N had found in the flat in Fosdinovo. The drive to his childhood home in Manchester. “You recognise this?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She gave him a look to tell him she didn’t appreciate his tone. He didn’t seem to care.

“Told you the path leads to uncertainty, hence the darkness at the end of it. I didn’t know where my life would lead me and I was terrified. Now,” he pointed to the dark corridor. “What does that lead to?”

Y/N blinked a few times, looking up at Harry when he didn’t continue talking. But he was already glancing down at her, raised eyebrows and a stoic look on his face. Though she was tempted to tell him to shove it if he was going to keep that attitude up, she didn’t. She needed to tell him how she felt, that he wasn’t alone in wanting more. She needed to find the right words. But right now, knowing Harry, he’d just get furious with her if she told him now that he was putting the effort in and showing her what everything meant.

“The paintings.”

“It leads to the exhibition.”

“That’s the same thing.”

Harry didn’t respond, he just walked towards the corridor without looking back. Y/N felt her anger bubble up, but she tried to control it as she followed him to the first room of the exhibition.

“Hope you know what the solar system is.” Harry shouted back to her.

She dug her nails into the palm of her hands, gritting her teeth from responding. Portia was standing at the other side of the room, watching them with wide eyes. Everyone else had left, she realised. The gallery was closing, and Harry’s exhibition needed to be taken down so the next one could be put up. This was his very last day showing his collection. Y/N gave her a look to keep quiet, the last thing Harry needed now was Portia intervening.

“Our solar system’s got eight planets-“

“-I bloody know how many planets there are in our solar system-“

“-But to me and my life,” Harry walked to the side of the room, pointing down at the last planet. The full Venus. Her plant. “In my universe, there’s only one.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“They each fade more and more into Venus. Notice how the first one’s black.”

“Like the end of the painting I found in Fosdinovo.”

Harry’s arm fell to his side, having proven his point on why he’d chosen space to be the theme for his exhibition. He walked on over to the first painting; straight past Y/N, jaw still tense and the look in his eyes enraged. She realised this was torturing him. Going through everything without knowing how she felt, and probably fearing – and believing – the worst. She had to say something.

“This one,” he pointed. “We can barely see you. You were a fucking pain in my arse.”

“Hey!”

“There’s only one dot of baby blue, you’re far away from where I’m standing.”

“If you don’t-“

“-Next one,” he walked onto the second one without Y/N even having reached him and the first painting. “You’re closer to me, still not very close, still not a lot of blue. Only some in the sky. Didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Harry, slow down-“

“-Third,” it seemed he was on a mission, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible. “You’re close. You can see baby blue in the sky, ocean, your dress, some in the grass. Still not doing it on purpose.”

She jogged over to the fourth as he did, really wanting to take a grip of his arm and tell him to calm down. But she had no right. Not now. But she was still getting annoyed with him.

“Fourth is when I start doing it deliberately. Realised I caught feelings for you, and you can see that in the landscape, how it follows the outline of your body.” Harry pointed just as the lights inside the planets went out. “There’s baby blue in quite literally everything.”

The lack of lights to showcase the paintings didn’t stop him, Harry walked on. She ran after him, about to tell him to slow down again when he walked right past the beach painting with the huge moon.

“The night you changed the moon for me forever. Now I do as you said you do; I talk to her. Every night.”

Y/N felt her heart ache. She wondered, if they were both talking to the moon at the same time, if they were talking about one another, why didn’t the moon whisper Harry’s words into her ear and hers into his? Why didn’t she help them?

“You’re further away in that one ‘cause I realised I’d have to let you go at the end of the summer, didn’t want to get too attached.” A dry laugh slipped past his lips. “Look how well that worked out.”

They stopped in front of the second moon painting, where he was floating in what looked to be the middle of a huge and dark ocean.

“You once told me the moon knows all your deepest secrets and biggest desires,” Harry pointed at himself in the painting. “Here’s me surrendering myself to her.”

“Why’re you in the ocean?”

Harry chuckled, running both hands over his face as if he couldn’t believe her.

“What?”

He looked at her for a few seconds while clenching his jaw. “I used to be terrified of the dark and the ocean. You taught me monsters won’t magically appear just ‘cause you can’t see. They’re just as likely to show themselves in sunlight.” He glanced at the painting again, blinking a few too-many times as he looked away from her. “If you take your time to understand and truly look at this painting, you’ll understand it.”

She was about to open her mouth when Harry said, “And don’t use your ‘I only know science, I barely know how to interpret art’ rubbish.”

“Well, it’s true.” She mumbled, but Harry only clicked his tongue, disinterested in her insistence on not understanding art. He walked on to the next one, the one that was completely baby blue, where her body was carefully outlined in white.

“Here you can clearly tell-“

“-I have a question,” Y/N said, making Harry shut up. “That painting of me… the one where I’m… Where’s that one? I mean…”

Harry stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to continue, but when she never did, he mumbled another question right back at her, “You think I’d put a painting of your naked body on display in my exhibition?”

She just looked at him, seeing something in his eyes that was vaguely familiar but too far away to fully grasp.

“I’m keeping that one-“ he stopped himself, swallowing hard. “It’s private.”

She nodded.

“Anyway,” Harry went back to the painting before them. “You represent baby blue to me, so here’s your colour – you -,” he paused for a second. “Becoming everything.”

She looked at him, feeling everything within her wither and bloom at the same time. The painting seemed to take him back to a time long ago, every urge he had to do this as quickly as possible seemed to leave him when he looked at that painting. They still had one left, but he forgot about that, losing himself in a memory. And Y/N lost herself in him. Suddenly, proper lights lit up the room and the stars that had illuminated everything prior, disappeared.

“Harry!”

Harry didn’t meet Y/N’s eyes as he stepped away from the row of planets, looking up at Jamie how had shouted his name.

“Closing time. We need to pack up, mate.”

Harry nodded, looking over at Y/N who suddenly felt her heart pick up speed.

Jamie clapped their hands together. “Come on, you lot, you need to leave.”

For a few moments, it was like the two of them moved in slow motion. Harry took a few steps so he could face the other way, ready to leave through the backdoor, not breaking eye contact with Y/N. Once they looked away from one another, the rest of the world would resume being and they had to leave. Y/N had to say something, she had to tell him. But everything was clogged up somewhere in her throat, she wasn’t able to say anything. This whole exhibit… it was about her. Harry had cared so much about her and he still did. But she couldn’t find the right words. She had to say something. Had to let him know she felt the same way.

Harry’s jaw clenched again before he looked away from Y/N and started walking back down the way he’d taken Y/N before. Everything inside her went into panic mode.

“Harry.” She said, but he didn’t turn around. She started jogging after him. “Harry.”

“Y/N-“

“-Just a sec, Portia!” Y/N continued to follow Harry through the now lit exhibit. “Harry!”

He didn’t turn around still.

“Harry, please.” She took a grip of his arm.

Harry stopped, dragging his arm out of her grip. “Y/N, stop.”

The force of his words took her off guard and it took her a few seconds to compose herself. “I’m sorry.”

Harry nodded, looking behind Y/N at the closing exit door. “What?”

“I… I need to tell you that…” she swallowed, feeling her palms get clammy. “You said earlier that…”

Harry looked at her expectantly, something in the frantic way his eyes moved over her face and the quick breath he took made her think he detected reciprocation in her voice. “Yes?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her heart was beating hard and fast, she was beginning to sweat.

“What, Y/N?”

“I can’t, I-“ She ran both hands over her face, frustrated with herself. She groaned.

“What?”

“I know how I’m feeling, but I don’t know how to say it.”

Harry took a small step towards her. “Say what?”

“How I feel for you.”

He let out a small breath. “And how’s that?”

“Just how you feel about me.”

There was a single second when Harry’s eyes were filled with elation; like he was ready to embrace her, kiss her, and never let her go. Wanted to become one with her right then and there, to never leave her side again. A ghost of a smile grace his features and his shoulders lowered; his entire composure seemed to relax. As if all the anger he’d been carrying around with him in the gallery disappeared. But the next second, realisation sunk in and he glanced away for a second.

“Need to hear you say it.” He said, voice weak. “Know you say you’re not one for words, but there are moments in life when words are everything.”

Y/N felt a drop of sweat run down her back. Her head was spinning.

“I deserve to hear you say it yourself.” Harry said.

“I know! That’s why I’m trying so hard to say something!”

Harry nodded, eyes falling to the floor. “You’re not ready.”

Y/N frowned, sure her panic showed on her face. “I am ready. That’s why I followed you out here, isn’t it?”

“No, Y/N, you’re clearly not. You might feel it, but being vulnerable is hard for you. Admitting to being vulnerable isn’t something you know how to do.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open.

“Your whole life you’ve put up this cold and hard exterior to protect yourself from feeling too much. You’ve had a hard time receiving the love you needed while growing up, and you’ve been burned in the past-“

“-Don’t psychoanalyse me.” She pointed a finger at him. “You know I have a hard time opening up to people completely.”

“You have a hard time admitting to letting your guard down. You do it willingly, but there’s a part of you that just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I said don’t psycho-“

“-I know, I’m sorry.” Harry took a few steps back, as if getting ready to walk away from her. “I’ll wait.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Harry nodded, just about to turn around and leave when she called his name again.

“You just begged me to tell you I felt the same way, and I did.” Y/N said, taking a few steps toward him, but stopping herself. “I told you.”

“That you felt like I did.”

“Exactly.”

Harry let out a small chuckle and though it sent a swarm of butterflies straight to Y/N’s stomach, it also hurt because she knew the next few words would send her into a panic. “And thank you for that, but I told you how I felt. Now you need to tell me. Physical show of affection is nice, but proper verbal confirmation that someone loves you…” he trailed off, looking at her in silence for some seconds. “It’s key.”

“Harry-“

“-I love you.”

She fell silent, taken off guard. But the words warmed her so that she was sure she’d never freeze again. He started walking away.

“I’ll wait, you need to figure this out on your own. I know,” smiling he continued, “Now I need you to comprehend.”

Mouth falling open as she tried to force herself to say something, she cursed herself over and over again for having built up that humongous wall around her. Being vulnerable was like admitting that you were weak, and she knew those two weren’t the same thing at all, but she’d associated them with one another her whole life. She needed to stop.

“I’ll wait for you.”

And just like that, Harry left her this time. She was tempted to run after him again, but to what purpose? To have him tell her yet again that he needed her to tell him she loved him when she couldn’t bring herself to? To hurt him again? No, she was going to deal with her struggles to admit vulnerability herself. He deserved to hear her say everything he’d just told her and much more. And hopefully Harry would still love her the way he did now by that time. How terrified she already was that he didn’t.

But if that was the case, at least she’d have taught herself the importance of vulnerability.

Thursday, 10 September 2020

“Smile, baby.” Elaine brought her phone up, snapping a picture of Y/N with her diploma in hand, standing in front of her University.

It was a nice day; the sun was shining through a thin layer of clouds and the temperature was high, but not so high that Y/N was struggling to breathe. All her course mates were milling around behind, beside, and around her, saying their last goodbyes before everyone was to part ways after this. It had been bittersweet saying goodbye to her mates. She knew she was going to see them again and knew she would be happier now that she didn’t have to care about uni, but it would be sad not seeing them and not knowing when she would meet them next. Though she hadn’t really been close with any of them, she still counted them as her friends and would miss their time together.

Portia stood beside Elaine and gave Y/N a little applause, grinning from ear to ear as her sister walked over to them again. “Look at you, all smart.”

“Yes,” Y/N said, doing a little dance with her diploma. “I’d like to think I am.”

“Look,” Elaine begged Y/N over so she could look at the pictures she’d taken of her. “You look lovely, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, the lighting’s amazing.”

“So peng.” Portia said, zooming in on Y/N’s face.

Y/N playfully hit Portia in the head with her diploma, making the two sisters chuckle before they turned back to their mother. Elaine smiled at Y/N, there was a look in her eyes Y/N wasn’t accustomed to seeing on her mother’s face when looking at her. It was something she often directed at Portia, but Y/N rarely got this. Pride. It almost made Y/N’s eyes sting with oncoming tears.

“Come on, girls,” Elaine said, taking each of her daughters’ hands. “We need to celebrate. What’s a good pub around yours, Y/N?”

“Hmm,” Y/N thought for a few seconds. “There’s a Gregg’s two minutes away.”

“Sausage rolls!” Portia exclaimed.

“We’re not celebrating you getting a degree at bloody Gregg’s, are you dim?” Elaine huffed, unlocking the car once they reached it. “We need to get a pint each, and a fancy dinner later.”

“Reckon we could afford a fancy dinner in London, Mum?” Y/N sat down in the car, putting her seatbelt on as Elaine started the car. “I’m skint.”

“Well, you’re not the one paying for the dinner, are you?” Elaine raised her eyebrows at her, driving away towards Y/N’s flat in Hackney. Portia reached into the backseat where Y/N sat, squeezing her knee before she sat back and focused on the city they were driving in. Y/N leaned forward and squeezed Portia’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming, P. Know you have a lot going on at the moment, but it meant a lot to me that you bothered to come.”

Porta looked over her shoulder at Y/N, studying her sister for a second before she smiled. “Might be busy, but it’s your graduation. It’s important to me.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up a bit, something they always did when she managed to discuss her feelings. “Thank you anyway.”

“You’re very welcome.” Portia’s smile widened, and she grabbed Y/N’s hand, kissing it before turning to look ahead again.

Y/N smiled herself, sitting back in her seat and looking out the window.

She’d never really gotten attached to London. Maybe it was because she didn’t really have anyone she was close to, or the constant fast-paced lifestyle you had to lead to live there. Y/N had always preferred a slow life, like the one she had grown up knowing in Maldon. Essex was calm, it was what she’d known her whole life and what she wanted to know forever. Regardless of where she wanted to live and where she felt she belonged; she’d gotten a job at North London Veterinary Clinic so she didn’t really have much of a choice in where she could settle down for a little while. North London wasn’t as busy as Central, so she wouldn’t be as overwhelmed as she usually was. She’d have to move and though the thought stressed her out, she was ready for a little change. It would be good for her.

“Do you remember that guy I was chatting to for a little while?” Portia suddenly asked, snapping Y/N out of her reverie.

“Drake?”

“No.”

“That Felix lad?”

“Not him.”

“Ezra?”

Portia shook her head.

“Jackson-“

“-Oh, for fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Portia turned around in her seat. “Do you have to rub it in?”

“That you date a lot of men? I don’t have to do that; you know it perfectly well yourself.”

Portia rolled her eyes. “Azeem.”

“Ahh! Azeem!” Y/N nodded her head, giving her little sister a smile. “Remember you talked about him, yes. Ages ago, though.”

Portia seemed to think back to the time she was talking to Azeem, getting lost in her own thoughts for a few short seconds before she blurted out, “Anyway, I met him on a night out like two days ago.”

“You did? What’d he say?”

“Just that it was nice to see me again.” Portia said. “Told me I looked good. And then he walked me home.”

In an attempt to come to terms with how she was feeling and letting other people know, it had been one of the first things Y/N had done. She sat Portia down when she came back to London, told her she loved the fact her sister came down and that they got to spend time together because it brought them closer – and she wanted to be close to her sister since they’d struggled being just that growing up -, but Portia needed her own place. If she was going to spend that much time in the capital, she might as well move there permanently. Elaine had struggled to come to terms with the fact that her youngest daughter would be moving out, especially considering how much time and resources she’d put into Portia and her career. But both the sisters had convinced their mother that this was what Portia needed to do. She needed to become independent. And besides, Portia wouldn’t be alone in London, Y/N lived there as well.

“And…?” Y/N urged, raising her eyebrows to show she was eager to know what happened next.

“He asked me out on a date.”

“He did?!” Y/N grinned. “Why did you stop seeing each other in the first place?”

Portia sighed. “It was hard to not see him very often, we lived far away from one another, and all that. But now that I live in London, maybe it’ll work out.”

“Is he a decent bloke, Y/N?” Elaine looked in the driving mirror back at Y/N. “I won’t take Portia’s word for it. You know she’s blinded by a good shag when she’s got one.”

“Mum!” Portia exclaimed. “Don’t say that! You’re not allowed to say that!”

“Say what? What you always tell me? You talk about lads and your sex life constantly.”

“I do not! Oh, my God!”

Y/N laughed, zoning out as her little sister and mother started arguing in the front. They soon reached Hackney and Y/N’s flat building. It felt weird knowing that Thursday next week, she’d be moving out of this flat and into a new one. Though Hackney wasn’t the nicest place to be living in London – or the nicest place to just be walking through – it had been Y/N’s home for five years now. Sure, she spent loads of time in Maldon and Essex, but this was her place in London. But soon, Hampstead would probably be it. It wasn’t that the commute would be horrible from Hackney and up to North London, but she would rather have a stroll to work in the morning instead of using public transit. It was bloody unbearable on the tube in the mornings sometimes.

They exited the car and Y/N rummaged through her purse for her keys, giving them to Portia when she reached her hand out for them.

“Thanks, babes.” Y/N said, getting her diploma out of the car seat before closing the door and letting their mother lock the car.

Portia glanced at Y/N for a little while, a grin spreading out over her lips.

“What?” Y/N asked, gesturing for her sister to unlock the door so they could walk on in.

“Dunno,” Portia shrugged, putting the key in the hole and turning it. “You never call me ‘babe’ or anything like that, but you’ve started recently.”

“Been watching too much Love Island.”

Portia laughed, holding the door open for her mother and sister. The lot of them walked up the stairs to the second story, about to let Y/N change out of her heels so they could go have a pint and then go out to dinner. Though she wouldn’t look as smashing as she did with her heels on, they would ultimately kill her feet and she was not about that life today. She’d just gotten a degree, she was going to feel good all day. So fuck heels.

They reached Y/N’s door and she let Portia unlock that one as well. Her flat was as simplistic as always; one single room with a small kitchen, a bed, a desk, and a door to a small bathroom. Elaine walked over to the desk, sitting down in Y/N’s office chair while Portia bent down and picked up something behind the door.

“Mail.” She said, giving Y/N a few envelopes.

“Thanks.” Y/N took it, looking through the envelopes to see nothing interesting. A couple of bills, some rubbish, and…

“Where are we going after this then?” Elaine asked, looking from Y/N to Portia. But Y/N didn’t hear what Portia was answered because she was too busy reading the small slip of paper that told her she’d gotten a parcel. Everything that was too big to slip through the mail slot was out into a cupboard on the outside of Y/N’s flat. Beside her front door was another, smaller door where her electricity metre was. If she wasn’t in to receive the parcel herself, she’d written on her mail slot to just pop it in there.

She put all her mail down on the kitchen counter before walking outside to check the cupboard. Upon opening it, she saw a single brown parcel, though it looked more like a gift than anything. She reached for it, bringing it out into proper lighting. She read her own address on the front, and when turning it around, she found it a little hard to breathe. Had he…

Y/N walked back into the flat, closing the door behind her and placing the package on the kitchen counter so she could unpack it. She knew Elaine and Portia were talking behind her about something, probably where they were going to go have their pint, but Y/N could not focus on anything but what was right in front of her. Ripping the paper off, a sea of colour was revealed to her and she recognised what she was looking at right away.

“A sunny morning in Essex.” Y/N smiled, looking at him. “The most beautiful sight in the world, if I may say so.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, putting the brush away and placing his hand on her thigh, turning to face her.

“Uh-huh.” Her smile widened some as he moved closer to her, brushing his nose gently against hers.

“I can think of more beautiful sights than a sunrise in bleeding Essex.”

She ran her hand over it, feeling the strokes of paint she’d put there with Harry’s help. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the paintings in his collection, but it was the most breath-taking creation she’d ever laid her eyes upon. It was something she’d made with Harry. It was art. Picking it up, something fell to the kitchen counter. An envelope.

“What’s that?” Portia asked, but Y/N couldn’t answer.

She put the canvas back down on the counter and reached for the envelope, tearing it open. It was his handwriting and she suddenly longed for him again. Months had gone by, but she thought about him every day. He was always with her, always motivated her; made her want to be better. And seeing something the two of them made a year ago, reliving the memory of them sitting close and creating something beautiful in the warm Italian summer night, it made her yearn in a way she never had before.

‘Complimenti per la laurea, celeste.’

Looking down on the canvas again, she suddenly recognised it. The landscape resembled the one in Tuscany, the one she had walked through and lived in all last summer. And in the corner was a white house, almost like a mansion of sorts, but not as big as some of the houses she’d passed on the countryside. She didn’t remember painting that. In fact, she barely remembered painting anything but the colour of the sunrise. Orange, yellow, blue. Harry must’ve completed the painting after she left.

“Y/N,” Portia said, now standing by her sisters’ shoulder. “Is that one of his paintings?”

Y/N just looked at he canvas, unable to say anything.

“Is that one of his fucking paintings?” Portia gasped, looking at Elaine and back at Y/N. “Imagine how much that is worth!”

“I’m not gonna sell his painting, Tia.”

“No, but-“ Portia gestured at the artwork, squealing. “What’d the card say?”

“Think he’s congratulating me on graduating.” Y/N put the card down, looking at the painting again. The room fell silent as nosy Elaine probably didn’t know which of her questions to ask first, Portia looked dumbfounded at the canvas, and Y/N yet again lost herself in daydreams of Harry. He knew she was graduating today. Sent her their painting. He congratulated her on finally getting her degree. He was still thinking about her like she was thinking about him. One of Y/N’s fears with taking so long to figure herself out, he’d somehow move on. But she believed in him enough, knew how she felt well enough, to know that they’d see each other again.

“You have to leave.” Portia said. “Y/N, it’s been six months.”

“I know.”

“You have to go to bloody Italy right this second.” Portia looked around Y/N’s flat. “Where’s your bag?”

“What about my life here? I’m starting a new job next week, I’m moving.”

“Figure that stuff out next week.” Portia smiled. “You’ve grown so much in the last few months, Y/N. You’re softer now, not so prone to fighting people for not having the same opinion as you, but you listen and you’re willing to change. Not for the world, but for yourself. Harry didn’t tell you to embrace tenderness just so you could admit how you were feeling about him, but also so you’d be nicer to yourself.”

“But I already am.”

“I know, but he wanted you to allow more love into your life. By seizing love and allowing yourself to feel, not only self-love, but the love of others, you allow yourself to live fully and completely.” Portia squeezed Y/N’s shoulder. “Without regret, without apology.”

Y/N smiled a little at her sister, studying her face. “Portia Cressida, when the fuck did you become so wise?”

“Can’t let people know I know shit or else I’ll ruin my dumb image.”

The girls laughed, and Portia rested her head on Y/N’s shoulder, glancing at the painting Harry had gifted her sister.

“Go, Y/N.”

Saturday, 12 September 2020

She remembered Italy to be hot, but something about Italy in autumn was almost unbearable. Everything was still a lush green, nothing had changed outdoors since last year it seemed, everything still looked the same. But Y/N wondered how that was possible when she wasn’t even in the southern part of Tuscany anymore, she was in Veneto, a county further up north. North-west Italy looked as summery in autumn as Y/N would’ve expected it to, and she loved it. Though she didn’t like the sun much, she’d come to appreciate it more than the rain of England. Besides, she could stand the heat if it meant meeting Harry again.

She’d called Jamie yesterday, asked them where she’d be able to meet Harry. She knew she could’ve just asked Harry, but she also wanted to see the surprise on his face when he saw her on his doorstep. So, she hadn’t told him she was coming. Which could either end with them living happily ever after or him saying he didn’t feel the same anymore. Thinking about the latter gave her a panic attack.

She hadn’t brought much with her, just a small bag as a carry-on and the clothes she was wearing. A see-through red, yellow, white, and pink tie dye crop top, showing off her cute black bralette underneath, a washed-out pair of high-waisted boyfriend denim jeans, and a black pair of Dr Marten’s. Though it had gotten a bit chilly on the plane, she knew Italy would be hot, and she had been very right about that. Besides, she needed to look extra cute now that she was seeing Harry again for the first time in six months.

The bus ride wasn’t as bumpy as the one she’d taken to Fosdinovo, the bus was new, and she trusted the driver to know if something was wrong. She hadn’t trusted Gioele to know the same, which she applauded herself for in retrospect. The bus was fairly new and the road to Padua, Veneto was nice. She’d done some research and figured out the reason why Harry might’ve moved up north and close to Padua. It was a city known for art; spectacularly pretty and often overlooked by Venice, a mere hour-drive away. Knowing Harry, he’d probably walk through the quieter streets of Venice to get inspiration or sit on a corner café in Padua to people-watch. She knew he wanted to get out of Fosdinovo, but he hadn’t been able to remove himself entirely from the Italian culture he had immersed himself in. His love for that country was too great for him to ever truly leave.

Reaching Padua, Y/N got off and got a taxi right away. She told the driver where she was going, and though it was a bit out of town and onto the countryside – not to Y/N’s surprise, Harry liked quiet after all – he agreed to get her there. It took them about 30 minutes to reach the house, and when they did, it was a simple gravel path. She obviously had to walk for a bit to get there, but she was glad she got to take in Harry’s new residence in the calmness that was the outskirts of Padua. She could make out the white house at the end of the road, the newly sown trees that lined the path, and knew when they had grown to their full height, they would envelope the drive like a tunnel of green leaves and nature. Y/N smiled a little to herself as she imagined it, knowing that Harry most likely had the exact same thought in mind.

It was nice seeing how he decided to live now, especially after everything that happened in Fosdinovo. Secluded, but a couple of neighbours a few minutes’ walk up or down the cemented road she’d just been on. It was undoubtedly his new paradise. And by the looks of it, the closer she got, it seemed he was still working on the house. White and grand, with huge French windows and sheer curtains on either side of them all, there was still some construction work going on on the outside, though the workers weren’t working today it seemed. It was only 12pm, but maybe Harry wanted them to take the day off to relax. She’d ask him, she told herself, because she was now in the driveway, viewing the red front door, looking in through the windows to see if she saw him. Her heart was hammering so fast in her chest that she noticed her tie dye top vibrating with each beat.

Reaching forwards, she pressed the doorbell, taking a step back so the door wouldn’t hit her in the face when he opened it. Nearly as quickly as it had gone off, she heard something very familiar inside the house. Spending time around animals nearly all the time, Y/N’s puppy radar went off when she heard the tiny barks of a baby dog inside. Immediately, her mouth fell open, and she walked to the closest window to look inside.

Down a white tiled corridor, the light from the massive windows on the other side of the house shining down on him, a puppy came running down on his big paws, his tail wagging so wildly his little bum moved with it.

“Hi.” Y/N cooed when he reached the window, standing on his back-paws to get a better look of her and bark some more. “Who’re you then? What’s your name?”

He sniffed the glass as if trying to get a sniff of her, but he whimpered when he couldn’t. And as Y/N got a good look of the little guy, she realised something very quickly that made her almost fall backward onto the gravel of the driveway. A Scottish deerhound.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Y/N said under her breath, walking back to the front door and ringing the doorbell again. Why was it that Harry had trouble answering the bloody door every time? She stood her ground this time, the puppy still barking at her and watching her in anticipation, ready to jump onto her the second Harry opened the door. But he didn’t. So this time she knocked on his door with her fist, not about to wait around for hours. She knew he was in. A puppy couldn’t be left alone in a big house like this, he’d either have to put him in a cage or take the pup with him.

With no response, Y/N decided to explore the outside of his house. Giving the pup a little wave, she stepped down from the front step, taking in the marble pillars on either side that held a small roof above the front door. The house was incredibly elegant and new. Had he built it himself? She walked around the side, admiring the huge garden and the tall stone fence that secluded it from everything else. There were a couple of trees that stood around a tiny pond, and it seemed he’d taken the time to put a grey stone bench beside it. The rest of the garden was newly trimmed and grand, though pretty empty still. There seemed to be the start of a pretty big doghouse beside another tree, and something else that might be the start of a veranda. Maybe he’d just about moved in. It would explain why everything looked so new, anyway.

It felt like Harry, though. All of it. Elegant yet simple, big but not too much. He was a simplistic person who loved grand things. The thought of him moving into a new house, probably a little anxious to meet new people and to get acquainted with his new life in a new town, it made her smile. He was restless and would move in a few years, but for now, this was exactly what he needed, she knew.

Faint, but Y/N still heard it with every single part of her being, a meow sounded from behind her. Turning around, there stood a striped cat looking over at her. She hesitantly moved forward and Y/N felt like breaking down crying.

“Viola,” Y/N hunched down. “Hi, baby.”

The cat made her way over quite hastily when she recognised who the person was, rubbing herself against Y/N’s outstretched hands. She’d grown, yet Y/N would know this little creature anywhere. She’d often wondered what happened to Viola, because when she left, she assumed Harry would take care of her till he left. But here she was. Had he brought her with him everywhere? She reached down, pressing a soft kiss to Viola’s forehead like she always did, and the cat meowed in response. Y/N giggled, the feel and sound of Viola brought her right back to her time in Fosdinovo. The cat had been there for her every single day, putting a smile on her face. They gave each other a home for a month.

Thinking she might explore more of the grounds, she stood upright, and Viola immediately perked up, ready to follow Y/N wherever she decided to go. Her eyes suddenly landed on a glass house attached to the mansion, and then on the figure standing by the open door leading into it. The inside of the winter garden was fully furnished, unlike the rest of the property that lacked the same attention. She couldn’t believe this. Not only was this Harry’s dream home, it was hers as well.

Their eyes met, and a jolt so intense rocked through Y/N’s body that it shook up everything. She fell in love with him all over again, seeing him there, looking right back at her with a look of startlement and longing and relief. She couldn’t wait any longer, she had to be close to him. Taking the first few steps, she felt the inside of her tummy vibrate as the butterflies inside her came to life again. The closer she got to him, the more every single part of her body tickled, itching to hold him again. And when it seemed to have dawned on Harry that this wasn’t a dream, he started walking toward her as well. The closer they got the more they picked up the pace. It had been too long, they had taken too much time, they had worked on each other for one another and for themselves.

Y/N threw herself into his chest and Harry wrapped his arms around her so tightly she was sure she’d fade into him. Though it had taken them so much to get to this moment, it had taken them a while for a reason. People needed to work on one another and for each other to make a relationship work, it didn’t just magically happen. And sometimes people need to be apart for a little while to gain perspective and mature enough to return. Harry needed someone who could be as open as him, and Y/N needed someone who wasn’t afraid to be himself to the fullest, without apology.

They broke apart, eager to look at one another again. Harry’s eyes moved over her frantically, taking her in again. He was wearing another silk shirt, tucked into high-waisted washed out denim jeans, and barefoot. Something about his bare feet was adorable. And the fact they were basically wearing the same jeans made her stifle a laughter.

“Hi,” she said, unsure how else to greet him.

He chuckled. “What the fuck, Y/N.”

“What?”

“You’re here.” He said, smiling at her. “I… I had no idea. But you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

He took her hand, squeezing it, looking her up and down. “Here.”

She smiled as well, feeling her hand heat up here his skin met hers. When he looked up at her again, eyes glistening, face lit up more than she’d ever seen before, dimples as deep as ever, she felt like tearing up. This was the man of her dreams; the man she wanted to spend every day with till death. And even after that she’d find him in their next life, or she’d find him in her afterlife, or wherever else they’d end up. There was no one else. Would never be anyone else.

“This is a big place.” She said, gesturing at the house and the rest of the estate.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, still looking at their joined hands. “Started building it back in March.”

“Big place for a big lad.”

Harry laughed, looking up at her again. “Need enough space for Viola and Gopher to wander.”

Y/N’s heart did a dreamy sigh. “Gopher?”

“Oh!” Harry pointed behind him at the house. “He was the one barking.”

“The puppy?”

“Yeah.”

She bit her lips together, looking down at their hands. “You adopted a puppy.”

Silence for a few moments before Harry said, in such a soft voice she swore it felt like a caress, “He’s been waiting for you.”

She glanced up again, happiness so overwhelming filled her to the point that she felt like flying. Eyes landed on the house and then back on Harry as he ran his thumb over her hand.

“Don’t you remember that day in the car last summer, when you first met Jamie?”

She didn’t at first, but it hit her like a truck and she almost gasped out loud. Harry only smiled a little at her, having remembered her words this whole time.

“A Scottish deerhound.”

“They’re quite big, aren’t they? Can’t remember how they look, but I think I know.” The phone was in Jamie’s hand, typing the name of the breed into the Google search bar.

“I’ve always wanted one. Always wanted to move to the outskirts of Maldon with two deerhounds. That’s where I want to settle down, I think.” She said. “With a winter garden and a big property so the dogs can run freely.”

She shook her head, not wanting to believe Harry had done this.

“Harry…”

“It’s not Maldon, or Essex, or England for that matter,” he said, stepping aside so she could look at the house. “But I tried to make it like you said, with some pieces of me in it, if that’s okay.”

The resemblance it held to the last painting of Harry’s exhibit was incredible, the same painting that had been stolen by Gioele. The painting Harry had an emotional attachment to of sorts. It was because it was this. It was the house. It was the place he hoped she’d settle down. With him.

“Wanna take a look inside?”

She smiled at him. “Please.”

He smiled back, letting go of her hand so they could walk into the winter garden. Viola followed them, strolling in through the door before Harry closed it. He took her into his arms and walked over to the door that led into the house, opening it and letting Viola walk away before closing the door again. They were left in silence, a few of the windows were open to let some air in or else the room would undoubtedly get incredibly hot with the sun shining right in. The roof was shaped like a spire, the whole glasshouse a half-circle, and green plants lined the window wall. Vines hung gracefully along some of the stiles, and in the middle of it all stood a big blue velvet ottoman. The whole place had a gothic feel to it and Y/N absolutely adored it. When she’d pictured a winter garden, she’d just wanted a place she could relax outdoors during wintertime, but this was something else entirely. It had a Harry feel to it, but it also felt like her.

“What do you think?” Harry asked, leaning his back against the windows.

“It’s amazing.” She mused, looking around. “Harry… I’m speechless.”

“Tried to make it into something that I knew you’d like. That’s why I painted it first and had an architect sketch the outline of the house after.” Harry explained. “Hope it falls into liking.”

She looked over at him, for the first time in ages, seeing the hint of doubt in his eyes again. Simply not able to help herself, she walked over to him, hesitating a bit before placing a hand to his cheek. He leaned into her, closing his eyes for a second and letting a sigh of relaxation leave his lips.

“I love it, I haven’t even seen the inside of the house, but I love it.” She told him, studying his dark eyelashes against his cheekbones. “And I love you.”

Harry’s eyes shot open, looking straight into hers. The absolute joy in them made the colour of his irises more radiant, and it was almost as if the sun shone a little brighter. As if the world fell into place; like how it was supposed to be all along.

“I love you.” She repeated, softer this time around.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice sounded like a whisper; a plea for her to really, really, really feel it – what was between them – like he did.

“I’m in love with you, Harry.”

He grabbed the back of her neck, swallowing hard. “I love you, too.”

She couldn’t help it when the sides of her mouth tipped upward. “I know.”

Harry smiled. “Smug bastard.”

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his, feeling his fingers stroke her scalp tenderly. God, it felt good to have him touch her again. It felt good to be close to him. It felt good to not be ashamed of saying ‘I love you’. It felt amazing to let someone else know how deeply you cared for them and see them light up in response because they felt the same way.

“Now fucking kiss me before I go out of my mind.” Harry said, an undertone to his voice that made a hot tingle run up Y/N’s spine.

“How about you kiss me?”

Harry frowned.

“After all, if I hadn’t kissed you in the ocean that night, would we even be here?”

“You take pride in that, don’t you? I would’ve kissed you eventually.” Harry said, and Y/N raised her eyebrows at him. “I would’ve!”

“Yeah, alright. When? The opportunity presented itself a couple of times, but you only had the nerve to kiss my hand.”

Harry gripped her hair hard in his hand, bringing her lips to hover above his. She gasped, looking down at his lips and then feeling it against her thigh. Very quickly, she felt hot all over, and the need to be closer to Harry grew so fast it made her dizzy.

“Got the nerve to fuck you good now, don’t I?” Harry said, voice so deep she felt it vibrate through her bones.

Y/N bit her lip. “What gentleman talks like that to a lady before he’s even kissed her for the first time in a year?”

“You want a gentleman?”

She ran her hands down his torso. “Depends on the situation.”

Harry kissed her jaw, leaving wet kisses down her neck. “Hmm, does it now?”

“Want a gentleman to walk the little puppy with, to make breakfast with, or to take me out for dates.”

“Do you want a gentleman between your thighs, baby?”

She closed her eyes at the feel of Harry’s lips on her, bit her bottom lip as he pressed her body closer to his. “Depends on how well that gentleman knows how to treat a lady.”

Harry chuckled, the feeling of his laughter against her skin was like heaven. “I’ll be a gentleman, the devil, an angel; I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

She huffed. “Thought we were doing dirty talk, and here you go turning it romantic.”

“I need you to shut up,” Harry said as his lips hovered above hers. “Because I’m about to kiss you and then fuck you on that sofa.”

She grinned, tilting her head to fit perfectly against his. “Kiss me.”

And he did. Hard and passionately. They wasted no time, slipping their tongue into one another’s mouths, clinging to one another, touching all over. They tasted the other, felt them right there. There were some birds singing outside, rustling of some leaves, but the two of them didn’t care. Harry pushed her backward till her legs hit the couch, but she stopped herself from falling back into it. Instead, she turned them around, pushing Harry back onto the ottoman.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” She said, and Harry let out a shaky breath at her words.

He quickly undid the buttons of his silk shirt, threw it somewhere behind him before he leaned on his elbows. “Nothing you’ve ever said has turned me on more.”

She giggled, taking her jeans and knickers off and straddling his lap. He sat up, attaching his lips to hers once again, grabbing onto her bum, begging her to grind against him. They both wanted some friction, and she knew that if he pressed her harder onto him, there would be wet marks from her left on his jeans. But in the moment, neither cared. They just wanted to be as close as humans could be, wanted to feel ecstasy. She buried her hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, and the heat between her thighs got more and more intense the more time went on. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through her as she felt Harry’s hand run up her back, reaching for her bra. He wanted to see all of her.

She let him, throwing her shirt off and letting her bra fall to the floor. Harry kissed her the second she was done undressing, moaning her name against her lips. She felt her centre ache, reaching for the zip of Harry’s jeans as quickly as possible. She couldn’t bare it any longer, she needed to be skin to skin; soul to soul. Y/N found that the people she had sex with, she formed an emotional attachment to them in a way that was unexplainable. There might not even be real feelings there, but you’d shared an intimate moment with someone, and it was a moment neither of you would ever forget. But with Harry, it was more than that. It wasn’t just a single moment she shared with him when they were like this; it felt like sharing an entire lifetime. It felt like happiness; it felt like the rest of her life. And she knew she was right to have spent time away from him, because she would tell him this over and over and over again, and she wouldn’t be ashamed or feel weak for admitting how much she loved him.

They got Harry’s jeans and boxers off, and as she took a grip of his cock, Harry stiffened. Their eyes met.

“A condom.” He said, reminding her what they were about to do.

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Harry gripped her thigh, squeezing her.

“You pay for the pill.”

He smiled, kissing her for a long time. “Fuck me, please.”

Slowly, she sat down on him, gasping at the familiar feeling of him inside her like this. Harry didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time, mouth opening wider for each centimetre he moved inside her. Positioning her feet on the floor, she started moving her hips over him. He instantly moaned, not able to help himself because it felt so good. He moved his hands up her thighs, her sides, her back, wanting to feel every single little part of her. Wanted her to know how much he appreciated every little thing about her. There wasn’t a single part of her body, of her soul, of her existence he didn’t love. She felt all his emotions in his touches, in the kisses he left along her collarbone, in the soft way he moaned her name.

She tried to push him down onto the ottoman, wanting to have him watch her as she rode him, but Harry stopped her. He shook his head, curls tickling her jawline and cheek.

“No,” he simply said, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m staying right here.”

And though he hadn’t meant it that way, Y/N still took it as him telling her he’d stay with her like this forever. After all, she’d been the one to leave him in the first place, but they were here now. Never was she going to leave him. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, the truest thing in her life, and her best influence. Had she ever been happy before she’d met him? Had she known true happiness till now? Because right now, feeling Harry’s bare skin against hers and hearing him repeat her name, she wasn’t so sure the happiness she’d felt before him could be counted as just that, happiness.

Harry squeezed her hips. “Like that,” he moaned, burying his face in the cook of her neck.

Nothing mattered besides the magic they were creating between them; nothing mattered but Harry and eternity. The soft skin of the inside of Y/N’s thighs against Harry’s hips and sides, pressed to him, sweaty. His tattooed body against her bare one. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

The burn in her core was really starting to build up now, and she knew it would burst any second. Harry moved his face so it was right in front of hers, studying her moving form above him. Her sliding hips, her desperate hands, her exclamations of pleasure. The butterflies in her stomach went crazy, all of them flying wildly in a single circle to intensify the oncoming orgasm. Harry’s hips moved more with hers, staring at her as she closed her eyes, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Harry said, hands trembling against her back.

She didn’t know why that almost brought her to tears, but it did, and she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. No one had ever made her feel as stunning as Harry. Though she was confident in her body and on her own, being with Harry made her feel on top of the world. His love, his encouragement, his compliments, it all made her feel so incredibly good about herself in a way nothing ever had before. She had no idea how she could ever thank him for that.

Their hips moved rhythmically, hard against one another, desperate for release. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. Y/N wanted to melt into him and have the two of them sitting like this forever. Wanted to feel him close, feel his love, feel his skin. Having him inside her like this, feeling him grip her hard, whimpering against her lips, moan her name; she felt powerful, beautiful, strong, and so so so good.

“Harry,” she moaned, looking into his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He said, bringing her closer. He reached between them, knowing that in order to come properly, she needed him to flick her bud. “Let me watch you come.”

“Oh, God.” She gripped his shoulders harder, moaning loudly as he rubbed her clit like he knew she loved so much.

“Yeah?” He watched her, flicking her faster. “Come for me, baby.”

She came hard. Harry watched her intently, clearly holding back his own release till he knew she was completely done with hers. She grinded on top of him, looking deeply into her eyes as hot flames lashed threw her body, rocking up her entire reality. She gasped for breath and moaned and repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it let like it was the only word she knew. Her legs were shaking, and it was hard for her to move properly so he could come to.

“Say it.” Harry said, his neck vein about to show and his face reddening with the oncoming climax. “Tell me.”

She knew exactly what he needed to hear. “I love you.” She whispered against his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the side of his lips as she continued to rock over him. “Everyday, for the rest of my existence, I’ll love you.”

“Fuck.” Harry moaned, not able to look away from her. “Y/N. My love.”

She held his face in her hands. “Never leave me. I love you too much.”

“Never.” Harry said, a moan escaping his lips. “Shit.”

He came, not looking away from her. A furrow appearing between his brows, lips parted, and Y/N had never seen anything so hot and beautiful. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. She watched him till he came down, feeling his cum inside her, feeling his breathing against her, his arms around her.

“You need to go meet Gopher now.” Harry said after a little while.

“My puppy.”

Harry laughed. “We’re gonna have a house filled with fucking animals, aren’t we?”

“And what about it?” Y/N smiled. “Don’t you want to see me happy?”

Harry’s eyes softened, smiling slightly up at her as he took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, then her palm, then the pulse of her wrist. “For the rest of my life, celeste.” His smile widened as he felt her beating hearts against his lips. “My baby blue.”

the BIGGEST thank you to all my beta readers! you lot have saved me and helped me more times than i can count! love you!

@aileenacoustic @sunflowervolumeeleven @emotionally-imbruised @fromyourstrulyh @harryisadogperson @harrysthighles @mellowstyles94 @toolazymyguy @clorenafila @dearest-rebecca @tpwkceline @tasteslikestrawberriesharry

and thank you to you! thank you for reading baby blue! thank you for the love sent both mine and bb’s way! thank you for letting me tell you yet another story, the fact that you sit down each sunday (or whichever day tbh) to read bb and immerse yourself in the bb-verse means so much to me!

as for what i’m gonna do next cos i’ve gotten quite a few questions about that! i won’t be posting writing on tumblr or wattpad till may, but in the meantime i’ll be over at patreon posting! there’ll be a poll there where some of my patrons can vote for what they want me to write next and i’ll post something every week!

my next fic will be announced sometime in april (tho i’ve talked about what it’s gonna be multiple times lmao), and the first few chapters will be available to read on my patreon before it starts posting on my other platforms!

ANYWAY, i love you all so much! thank you again! bb!harry and bb!mc appreciate you very much, as do i :’’)

thank you so much. till next time, stay hydrated.

your bestie, nora x

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